Friday, August 31, 2012


When I first caught a glimse of his lime-green cureled tail, I thought he was a lizard pure and simple. But then I saw him move.
Instead of speeding off in a huff, he reach one tentative paw forward and danced it about slowly before he chose where it would land. Every move he made looked as if he were swiming in molasses.

Seeing that I could catch him with ease, I picked him up and placed him on my arm. But he didn’t like that much, and subsequently let out a menacing puff of air meant to deter me.
        --but he failed.

Immediately, his lime-green facade burned browner and large camelflage speckles broke out on his back like a rash.
        --He was mad.

With time, his green hue faded completely and he stayed a steady brown which matched my skin tone expertly. He climped my arm, then dangled precariously on my earring, and eventually landed in my hair.

When the kids saw I had a chameleon peaking out from behind my brouwn curls, they freaked. Only the bravest got close enough to touch him.

Several of the older girls preferred to squeek and squeal at the thought, dancing excitedly about in an effort to shake the germ-infested image from their minds. All I could do was laugh.

Only later would I learn that chameleons hold a special place of fear in Mozambican culture. They are universally feared and hated because of their use in witchcraft. Apparently, witchdoctors use them in ceremonies, placing demon spirits on them.

When I learned this, I prayed for my sweet chameleon to be set free from any curses and I’ve not had any problems with him yet.

He doesn’t seem to want to eat anything though. I brought him a few ants and he just let them walk off. So I brought him a cricket (which I’m told they love), but he has been ignoring it for days.

Anybody know how often a chameleon eats?