Sandflies

Maori have a legend that says that sandflies were made because humans simply stood around doing no work, but instead stared at the amazing landscapes of Fiordland. When some friends and I arrived at the DOC campsite at Lake Paringa, we also stood there, enchanted, maybe 700 or 800 years after them. We had just driven from Central Otago through the Haast Pass. Two completely different landscapes: one dry, agricultural; the other luscious, green and remote. No one lives in the 90 km stretch between Matarora and Haast. Everyone one sees is holding a camara, or is gawping, or is driving slowly. Only tourists own this land, it is public and everyone's. We arrived at Lake Paringa at sun-set. There were Kaka and Kea flying overhead, Kereru in the bush. We were staring at them, there were the hills around us reflected in the waters we had waded into knee-deep. And then there were the sandflies. We hadn't noticed them but they had noticed us. All four of us seemed to be the most attractive meal they'd seen in their lives. Everyone else in the site looked oblivious to the fact that there were these creatures absolutely everywhere. They came down on us for quick pit-stops, twelve or thirteen at a time, giving us no time to concentrate fully on setting up our tents or cooking. Or taking photos even.
When our meals had been made we were already starting to lose it. We were walking around in circles with our plates and teas in one hand, fork in the other. We couldn't stop or they'd devour us. The fellow campsite users looked and laughed. After a while we did too: four young adults walking around waving their forks at an invisible foe, shaking their heads and bursting into jumps or skips, swearing... Surely we were mad? We applied suncream, deodorant and burning tea to alleviate the bites until finally we got given some repellant.
Magic.
At last they were gone! We could stretch out our hands and they would fly away. Albeit our bites were itchy and painful. We decided to hide in our tents. They were in there too. I was killing them, clapping, and soon their blood, or ours, was all over the tent. They were everywhere. They were also trapped between the inner and outer layer of our tent. Their flying pounded over us like the rain that tends to hit these regions.
I'll quickly pause. You may think this campsite was hell but it isn't. The mountains and the lake and the birds and the trees were spectacular. There were Kaka, Kiwi,Kea and Kereru. All are extremely rare yet there they were, in one place!

The next day we were forced to skip breakfast and pack up quickly: the sandflies were out again. As we were throwing things into the car I told my friend that he shouldn't "doubt in killing all the sandflies while we drive". "Can we not push them out the window?" he answered. Out of the window? Push them? Save them? These nasty little vampires!? No - I thought. He's a vegetarian and believes that everything has a right to life. I understand what vegetarians are doing. I understand that it is ethically quite brutal to kill. Where do we draw lines though? Can we compare animals to insects? He would say that any creature that can think, any creature that is independant has the right to life. I don't think it is the same to kill a sandfly than it is to kill a cow. I know a cow pains when we hurt it, but does an insect? Does it now what it is to live and die?
It knows it lives. It is what it does. It knows it is there and what it has to do.
Push it out of the window!? By doing that aren't we just giving it the opportunity to attack someone else? Therefore, isn't it selfish to do so? Isn't it altruistic to actually kill it, kill one and ten die. We are stopping the future generations from suffering, albeit ridiculous suffering. I mean, wasn't it seen as a good thing when the US, Spain, Italy and so many other countries eradicated malaria? This wasn't done by pushing the mosquitos out of the country.
There is a difference between killing a fly and killing a human, or a cow. At least I think there is.