Surviving a flying cockroach and living to tell the tale

It started out as a peaceful South African evening – kettle boiling on the gas stove, a generator humming in the distance and the faint smell of braaied wors drifting from next door.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw it: a dark, winged shape moving with the confidence of something that doesn’t fear darkness.

A flying cockroach. Now, every South African knows the normal kind – the ones that scuttle under the fridge like criminals when you switch on the light.

But this one? This was the load shedding edition, battery-powered and airlift-enabled. It didn’t crawl. It took off.

I froze. My brain said “stay calm” but my soul was already halfway to Bloemfontein. It flew straight at me, wings flapping like an angry taxi driver’s hands in traffic.

I screamed so loudly that even my neighbour’s pit bull barked in sympathy.

Armed with a can of Doom (nearly empty, of course) and a broomstick, I launched my counterattack.

But this was no ordinary roach. It dodged the spray, swooped under the broom, and circled my head like it was auditioning for Top Gun: Insect Edition.

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At one point, it landed nonchalantly on the wall and stared at me. I swear I saw arrogance in its little antennas – the same attitude you get from people who park across two spaces at Woolies.

I tried to keep my cool. Believe me, I did. “It’s just a bug,” I told myself, while holding the Doom like a priest holding holy water.

But when it took flight again, I screamed something unprintable, threw the broom and ran into the passage like a coward with a heart murmur.

Neighbours thought I was being attacked by a Plastic City villain. Eventually, I trapped it under an old Tupperware bowl and slid a newspaper underneath.

I left it there overnight, because there’s no way I was lifting that thing before sunrise. The next morning, I set it free in the garden – far, far from the house.

It flew away with attitude, as if saying: “See you next load shedding slot, loser.”

I am never sending a cake over to my neighbours ever again. Imagine thinking my screaming fit was funny…

I’ve since learned that courage isn’t found in facing lions or burglars. It’s found in standing your ground against a flying cockroach in the dark – and living to tell the tale.

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