Beware la Musa Tejedora
To get to Usiacurí, you take the buseta (a small bus or van) from Baranoa (the nearest large town) about twenty minutes down an idyllic country road past lush fields and rolling hills. You’ll know you’ve arrived when you see the Musa Tejedora – a monumental steel sculpture of a spider, the weaver muse. It is a sleek and elegant rendering – its body a figure eight with legs that arch up and come together to form a heart before extending down to the ground as supports, flanked by metallic flowers that take the edge off and give it a friendly and welcoming vibe.
The Musa Tejedora symbolizes two important aspects of Usiacurí – the artisans who weave palma de iraca into exquisite handbags, earrings, bracelets and other decorative items and the poet Julio Flórez who lived in Usiacurí and published a well-known poem called La Araña – the spider.
In the poem, the speaker is haunted by a spider that lurks above his bed. He ponders killing the vile creature but ultimately decides to let it be. It’s a rhyming reflection on learning to live with the darker aspects of our human nature.
I assumed the title character of La Araña was a convenient metaphor until the day I found the biggest spider I’ve ever seen in the kitchen sink. It was black with brown stripes, about three inches long, and completely terrifying.
My host mom came to the rescue. When I pointed out the araña, she immediately took off her sandal and started whacking away. After a few swift blows, the creature lay in pieces, and she dispensed with its carcass.
My host dad, amused by the horrified look on my face, asked: So you’re scared of spiders?
Up until this point in my life I would have said no. I have many fears but spiders weren’t high on the list. They were unpleasant of course and had no place in my home, but I wasn’t particularly worried about them. I naively believed, like in Julio Florez’ poem, that we could peacefully coexist.
I now realize that I had simply not yet met big enough or scary enough spiders. Neither the brown recluses that occasionally appeared in our basement in Missouri nor the wolf spiders that lurked in the corners of cabins at my summer camp in New Hampshire had prepared me for the creepiness of Colombian spiders.
If the kitchen sink spider had been a one-off, I perhaps could have brushed it off as an anomaly, but it wasn’t.
A few weeks later, as I was preparing my lunch, I found a massive, jet-black spider splayed on the inside of the bottom cabinet.
First, I gasped. Then, I panicked.
I was home alone. There was no one to save me. What do I do????
I considered the shoe method, but that would mean having to kneel down and reach into the cabinet with my body in uncomfortably close proximity to the enemy. If there was a counterattack, a hasty retreat would be nearly impossible. I couldn’t risk it. What if it crawled on me? I might never recover.
A couple weeks prior I had successfully vanquished a cockroach in the shower by crushing it repeatedly with a broom – a technique I had honed over nine years in New York City. Maybe that method would work on spiders too.
Armed with the broom, I took a deep breath and went on the offensive. The enemy had a clear tactical advantage – the sharp angles and small spaces between the cabinets and the wall were easily traversable for a nimble spider but not for a clumsily handled broom.
The beast scuttled out of sight. I am ashamed to admit that I accepted defeat and did not continue pursuit. I was too shaken.
As I lay in bed that night replaying the battle in my mind, I remembered the moment it deftly maneuvered itself through the miniscule crack between the side and back of the cabinet. That’s when the real terror set in. My room is directly adjacent to the kitchen. With this vile monster at large, I was not safe. I tossed and turned all night, convinced that every time the breeze from my fan rustled the bed sheets, it was the spider coming to get me.
The next morning at breakfast I recounted the incident to my host mom. I expected her to listen, smile condescendingly (aww the gringa is scared of las arañas, pobrecita) and brush off my alarm as no big deal.
To my surprise she sprang into action with more energy than anyone should have in 90-degree heat and proceeded to empty all the kitchen cabinets in search of the spider. We can’t just leave it in peace, she informed me matter-of-factly.
She was right, of course. I was no Julio Flórez, able to live out my days with a spider lurking nearby. I quite literally would not rest until this creature was dead. Unfortunately, the search proved futile, and as far as I know, the giant spider is still at large.
After we had put the pots, pans and pantry items back into the cabinets, my host mom looked at me very seriously and said: Clarita, next time, don’t hesitate. Go in with the shoe.
And that’s what I intend to do.
Photo: La Musa Tejedora by sculptor Gino Márquez, Usiacurí.
If you’d like to read La Araña by Julio Flórez, it’s available online here.
Have you ever unexpectedly found yourself sharing your home with a unpleasant pest? Tell me about it in the comments below.
