Why I hate frogs

Most of you seemed surprised that I was scared of frogs. This fear is quite rational, I assure you. I have some history with frogs, and it's not good.

I think the fear for started when I was six and my older sister (a Yekwana Indian foster child) stuck a dead frog in my shoe. This frog had been dead for days and was nah-stee. She told me to put my shoes on and when I discovered the rotting frog I was scarred for life. There was much screaming, wailing and gnashing of teeth. I never forgave her. Hmph.

Then, a few months later we went on our first, of many, survey trips to different Yekwana Indian villages. We went to the village of Toky, which is where my Indian brother and sister were from. One day my parents decided to go up river to another village a few hours away. They took my younger brother and sister with them, and I stayed behind with my Indian siblings and their biological family. They (my parents) were supposed to return that night, but had to stay due to a huge thunderstorm. So there I was, six years old, with an Indian family I could barely understand and wondering if I would ever see my parents again. That night I had a close encounter with a cow (another story for another day) and my older brother tried to feed me a frog. I came this close to eating it, but everytime I would reach for it to take a bite, he would toss it in my direction and RIBBIT. It was very convincing. I never ate it.

That night in my journal, which my mother still has, I wrote: "I am the only American in the whole jungle." I remember feeling very brave and heroic. Like I was David Livingstone or something. And also very creeped out by the whole frog episode.

And so, I hate frogs.

Can you blame me? :)