He was reading a book, one of the seemingly thousands of books he had been buying from dusty stalls in Ataba over the last few weeks. His wife scorned their presence all over the apartment, saying they were “horrible, dusty things cluttering up the place”. Well, what about all those women's magazine that tumble out of the book cupboard every time he opens one of the doors? Some of those magazines are very old. One advertises Chanel No 5 as a new product. However, his perusal of a mouse-nibbled tome on early Germanic poetry was interrupted by her moaning about the presence of “aunts” on the balcony. “Are you referring to a group of ladies who may be sisters of our respective parents?” he inquired. She clicked her tongue and stood before him, arms akimbo. “Or do you mean a gaggle of females of our acquaintance but on whom the term ‘aunt' in conferred as an honorific of fictive kinship?” he said in a bid to broaden his enquiry. “Of course, it should be pointed out that the term ‘tant' (with the ‘a' as in the English ‘father') is reminiscent of the French ‘tante', meaning ‘aunt', is bestowed upon Cairene harridans who age is considerably greater than the speaker's,” he added. She tapped her foot impatiently. “I think you need some more of those pills the doctor gave you last time,” she huffed. “I feel that medication at this time is inappropriate-” “Goodness me! You do go on, don't you? Look! I'm talking about the insect, you dunderhead!” “Indeed, you are referring to the insect, whose English name is said to derive from the Middle English ‘ante', in turn, from the Old English ‘aemette', note the change of ‘m' to ‘n' since the bilabial nasal preceding a post-alveolar unvoiced stop is an awkward combination,” he commented. She folded her arms and rolled her eyes, her foot still tapping. “The Latin name of this family of insects is ‘formicidae', which is in no way connected to ‘Formica' the trade name for a surface covering. On mature reflection, perhaps ‘Formica' is ant-resistant, since no ant has been known to burrow into this substance and lay eggs. “The Arabic equivalent ‘nimal' (both vowels short) is a generic plural, albeit singular in for, referring to ‘ants' in the plural. Maybe you have heard of an artistic movement inspired by these creatures, i.e. ‘mi-nimal-ism'. Anyway, for a single element of the set of ants, say ‘nimla', otherwise, they rarely occur singly, unless they are lost or socially deviant-” “Have you quite finished?” she said emphatically between her teeth. “Have you ever wondered how much time we spend negotiating over meaning?” “What do you mean?” “There you go! Now where're you going?” “I'm calling the doctor.” And well she might, as fifteen years with the same man who maunders on about etymology must feel like a lifetime. But the world's ants, all 1,200 species of them, have been around a lot longer than that – 150 million years according to fossil evidence. After the rise of flowering plants about 100 million years ago they diversified and assumed ecological dominance around 60 million years ago, a reliable source says, omitting the fact that they have taken to dominating the balcony of the unfortunate couples on whose conversation we eavesdropped above. By the way, the family Formicidae belongs to the order Hymenoptera, which may be an insectoid reference to happy marriages. Do you remember looking at apartments when you first came to this country or when you were on the brink of a lifetime together? And do you recall that distinctive strong, rotten coconut-like smell of empty dwellings, old and new? That was probably due to the presence of the Odorous House Ant. These ants are reputed to be very social – discos, parties, tennis clubs, parent-teacher associations and most sports events are popular haunts. They live in colonies of up to 100,000 members. Who on earth has the time or inclination to count these little bar stewards? Odorous house ants feed on dead insects and sugary sweets. While they nest in wall- and floor cracks, they pose no health threat, but they can contaminate food by leaving waste behind. Ugh! Do you keep your food on the floor? Or are we thinking of the odd cashew nut and grape that ends up on the floor during an evening of ‘Animal Planet' featuring members of the Formicidae family? Otherwise, plug up those cracks in the walls and floor and gear yourselves up for the invasion of the Pavement Ant on your balcony. They came up from the pavement long ago, soon after the construction of the apartment block was completed. These crafty little black or dark brown beggars, for all of their seven millimetre length, live in colonies of between 3,000 and 4,000, and they all spill out onto your balcony for a bit of fresh air on Friday mornings. They eat almost anything, so they are easily pleased. Again, they pose no health threat, unless you leave your glass of tea on the floor. Yum! Slurp! Just when you thought the curb on imports was beginning to have a positive effect on the economy, enter the Red Imported Ant. Unfortunately for us humans, these creatures can adapt to many climates and conditions in and around their environment. They have even been known to form a huge ball or raft if the colony senses increased water levels in their nests. And they sting. So, what is the solution? A freshly boiled kettle of water will kill the adult worker ants, but one rarely sees the queen that is laying all the eggs. Many insecticides contain borates, which sound prosaic, unlike arsenic trioxide, the active ingredient in few products. And once you are rid of the ants, try the arsenic compound on the husband who is obsessed with etymology.
