Last baby frog

The factory is in the North West province of South Africa, on the side which is close to the neighbouring Gauteng province and summer is the rainy season.  Afternoon thunderstorms were most common with extraordinary lightning branching out in the sky and it thunders like you cannot imagine, usually followed by huge drops of rain or hectic hail.  Some makes of cars with less solid material used in the bonnet, roof and boot would sustain a few dents from the hail stones.  German cars are usually pretty safe though.  It would hail madly for a good 10 - 15 minutes and then continue to rain; other times the sky would clear after hailing, leaving behind snow-like white grounds.

 

In my observation, if you see a slight hint of lightning from the corner of your eye, then there is nothing to fear.  If you see a bright, clear, vivid illumination of the sky, put your hands over your ears immediately!  Hell was almost about to break loose after those ones.  There was one afternoon with the look of the usual thunderstorm approaching but nothing happening as yet.  Without a sign, the sky suddenly split open in light and sound and there was no time to respond.  I burst into tears; it was so deafening, so scary!  Till now, some twenty years later, I can still say that it was the loudest, loudest clap of thunder I have experienced in my life.

 

Baby mosquitoes, frogs, earthworms and dragonflies would emerge after a good afternoon rain.  This baby frog story started just after one of the typical afternoon thunderstorms when I was about ten.  I was at the factory and a short while after the rain stopped, hundreds of baby frogs emerged out of nowhere, hopping and hopping inside the factory.  They were really small, about 2cm in height, but tons of them.  It made my skin crawl with goose bumps; there were just so many of these slimy little green things, but I was not scared.  I decided I am going to chase them all out one by one. 

 

How?  I would make them hop out the door.  It took a good while but I was eventually down to the last baby frog.  The last baby frog was one more jump away from the door so I decided I would give a good loud jump behind it, to encourage it to make its last big leap out the door.  I stepped back, checked my distance from the baby frog and jumped, aiming to land right behind it.  The last baby frog never made it out the door as I landed right on top of it, squashing it flat with all of my 24kg weight.  I think I cried.  Even right now as I am writing this, I still feel the guilt and feel so, so sorry.  It was not my intention to kill it in such a cruel way; I can almost imagine its pain, as brief of a moment as it was.  But I cannot apologise to the baby frog, it cannot hear me.  Killing makes bad karma.

 

I have told this story many times as one of the most regretful things I have done in my life.  I feel that I am apologising by telling this story over and over again.