Living with lizards

a love story

This is either Gladys or Georgina… [Siem Reap, 2016]

If you ask Southeast Asians what they’re afraid of, they will most likely say: ghosts, snakes and lizards. I can certainly understand why ghosts and snakes would be a legitimate concern.

But geckos and lizards? Why would Thais and Khmers fear them? It took a little sleuthing, but eventually I figured out through talking to many students over the years. But I still don’t get it. I like lizards. I suppose it goes back to being raised in Hawaii where geckos are common and part of everyday merchandise.

As children, we used to go lizard hunting. We never hurt them, but catching them can be quite difficult. My younger brother was great at it. We did this outside, as I cannot imagine trying to catch them in the house as they scale walls. So, while I never enjoyed a childhood winter, I was lucky to have played outside all year around, climbing trees, running, bicycling, and thriving in a tropical climate (free of snakes I might add, Hawaii does not have them).

After we caught them, we held the lizards gently, but firmly between our thumb and index finger just below their necks, so they can’t bite you. We knew how to open their mouths, and we pretended they talked when we held them up. Then we let them go.

I watched one hatch from its egg once. I noticed that a mom had put them in one of the holes of a volcanic rock wall. Curious, I poked at it, and in surprise saw that it was opening. I was afraid that I had hurt the little guy, but after he was free from his shell, he scurried off.

So, it turns out that these little buggers sometimes fall on you, and that’s why SE Asians don’t like them. I had it happened when I was washing the dishes, but I didn’t scream. I did recognize how that might scare people though.

The mating noises (that sound like kissing/chirping sounds) they make are also peculiar. Especially in a dark house, it might seem a bit spooky or even bothersome. But honestly, I think it’s the large tokay geckos that most SE Asians fear. They’re mighty defenders and have a way of getting into your house.

Our crocheted friends we got at a local market in Northern Thailand.

When I first moved into my Chiang Mai cat cave (aka wooden house in the bamboo woods), I couldn’t believe how much nature got into my house. When I squeezed a mop, a frog jumped out, mosquitos hungrily dined on my flesh, cicadas buzzed so loudly in the trees I thought there could not be a louder insect in the whole wide world until I heard the frogs in the nearby pond.

Unfortunately, my cats liked to play with them claw and kill. They were, however, proficient at killing little field mice, so I suppose they earned their keep. Although, I really needed them to do their work when a hearty tokay found its way into my upstairs bathroom. And here is when I discovered why they are so feared.

The one in the bathroom would not get out. I found this terrifying because he opened his mouth in defense, was large, and freaky scary, and I used this toilet often. I wanted the cats to be useful and chase him out, so I threw the first cat into the bathroom. He nonchalantly sauntered back out. Then I tossed the second cat in there. He, too, promptly left.

Next, I tried holding Romeo as close as possible to the tokay. But Romeo, my fighter, would have nothing to do with the lizard that knew better and stood still with his jaws wide open. I fetched Pippin, and by this time was sweating in stress and nerves, plus the cats were on the generous side, so I was getting quite the workout. I held him to eye level with the tokay, but Pippin simply left, again.

I grabbed a broom and tried to shoo the tokay out. Luckily, he snapped on to the broom bristles allowing me to carry him out while he clamped on snapdragon tight. The distance from the toilet to the outside patio never seemed farther. I’m glad he never let go.

We rescued this sprout from our fridge! [Chiang Rai, 2014]

My coworker-at-the-time, husband, loves lizards, fish, and frogs. He had them as pets. (Okay, he raised and bred them. He’s hardcore.) But I didn’t know this about him yet.

Well, one day, he decided to have a little fun with me and he stuck a toy rubber tokay lizard on my work locker. I guess he wanted to see me scream or something, as those toys are made exactly for that purpose and you can get them at the market. Instead, I saw it, laughed, then stuck it on my back shoulder and taught my following classes with the dang thing on me.

The rest you might say is history—heh, heh. We eventually moved in together and when we lived in Chiang Rai, our first house was a kind of tokay haven. We lived in a traditional wooden house, and at one point we had about 4 or 5 coming into the kitchen. I have to admit that was enough for me. I don’t mind an occasional one, but they were outnumbering the humans. He, on the other hand, was delighted.

It’s strange that I ended up with a husband who loves lizards and classrooms full of students who fear them. But I’ll happily be the bridge between those two worlds.