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I hate to admit that I fear bees,yes,those tiny insects that others brush off ever so casually off their faces.

My paranoia around bees is informed by past undignified trauma.

I stopped denying that I suffer from an irrational fear of bees long time ago,and that took away a big chip off my bloated male ego..

Sample this recent encounter with a full colony of bees;

A female work colleague has a turned her guest wing into a private office where we spend long hours editing content for content blogging for our online clients on weekends.

On this particular day, I heard bees buzzing on her roof and immediately raised my concerns.

She explained that bees had set up a colony in her ceiling but an ‘expert’ was coming to sort it out.

Her casualness in this awaiting catastrophe was remarkable.

How could she be so calm with danger lurking above, up in her ceiling?

I should have listened to my instincts after all, but instead I listened to my big male ego.

I did not want appear overly paranoid,although I’ve seen a lion scampering into safety of thick bushes in face of these dangerous insects.

An hour into our peaceful afternoon, I heard
footsteps on the roof and a familiar sense
of uneasiness set in.

” Maybe we should step out and let the man on the roof finish his task”. I was dismissed with a wave of hand. “He is an expert. All the way from ICIPE.” ( International Centre of Insect
Physiology and Ecology).

I started to panic and true enough, moments later, an entire hive fell right through the ceiling into the room.

There was no time to think.

In a surge of adrenaline that propelled my flight response, I threw my jacket over the lady
and rushed her out of the door through a
hailstorm of bees.

Not a single bee stung her.

I got hit 9 times! and lived to tell the story,my best try at chivalry in presence of bees,so far.

I generally display a composed manner of a true gentleman, even where noisy banter is approved.

But that calm demeanour is blown to smithereens the moment I hear the distinct buzz of a bee.

The change of reaction surprises people.

Bees scare the daylights out of me.

A single bee drifting towards my coffee mug is
bound to set off all my panic buttons.

In female company, the panic attack is
heightened because at the back of my mind
is the inevitable and sheer embarrassment
of getting my ego stung as well.

Once in the company of an attractive young lady at a business meeting, a bee hovered in front of my face as if taking aim.

I lost track of conversation and was preoccupied with how to get away from the source of threat without breaking into a run.

The lady noticed my obvious discomfort and said reassuringly, “It is only a bee”. Of course, She wouldn’t understand. And her short well meaning observation made a big dent on my male ego.

How can I even pretend to be a “protector” of a lass who doesn’t fear bees?

In certain instances,bees have trampled on my hope for successful dating when they enter the scene.

I become flustered,incoherent,sweaty and stammering all at a low buzz of a single bee,ruining my date!

I can produce a very clear and detailed history of completely unprovoked attack from bees.

I have gotten stung so many times, I reasoned that this level of profiling bees as heartless insects can only be penance for my sins committed in a past life.

I have even been stung while getting interviewed for an agribusiness documentary.

The venue was a tropical garden.

On this one sunny day, a bee decided to crawl up my leg heading up to goodness knows where, and stung me just when I was getting into my groove for this exciting interview.

I took the sting like a man and did not utter
a word. the host was impressed when I told
him about it afterwards and he promptly
roasted me off air afterwards for being stoic.

The Tv man thought it would increased the ratings of the documentary if I had spontaneously hollered in horror in live camera at the sting of that single bee.

My friends told me later that I looked like a
man suffering from a constipation
throughout the remainder of the interview.

In another incident, during an important
fundraiser at a friend’s house, a bee landed on
the edge of my cup of water, placed on the
ground, next to my seat.

When I reached under the seat to take a cool gulp, I got stung on my upper lip.

Of all the cups in a gathering of about 50 people, I became the chosen one for this dishonour.

The commotion that followed was ugly.

I cursed the bee so ferociously in front of little children who started crying in horror of my swear words.

I spilled water over an elderly man, lost my
sense of bearing,charging like a wounded fighter bull for a few seconds as I
stumbled through chairs trying to suppress
the raw panic and the pain of the sting.

People panicked, some started running and if it
was not for a calm MC who laughed off my paranoia to the panicked crowd, I would have set off a stampede.

I was not very happy with my swollen face afterwards that looked like a freak deformed monster pumpkin.

Of course,I love the bees for their honey,but,Oouch! They do sting.

Just some random thoughts that came to my mind….©Profarms’ Random Thoughts®