They Ate My House

Quite literally, am not joking!  Folks like me who used to live in wooden houses in the kampong had to be on constant guard against termites – those tiny milkish white creatures for whom cellulose was one continuous daily Happy Meal.  And their appetites were voracious, to say the least.

Often, they also constructed tell-tale “covered walkways” on walls and other surfaces, which probably led from nesting holes to feeding grounds. 

But the real damage was always underneath the surface of the timber. Everything would look fine until a force was applied, and then it would crumble, revealing a severely-damaged interior. Sections of the house would collapse too.

Am glad that since 1973, I have been blessed to be living in concrete buildings, which are relatively unappetizing to those creepy white six-legged fellas.

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