The Guinea Worm
Par Jean Painlevé
“My goodness, I was thirsty!” he exclaimed, knocking back a pint of this sparkling clear water while the tiny aquatic crustacean which he swallowed along with it – the common copepod – fell about laughing. For those in the know, it is quite amusing:
In some hot countries, particularly the Congo where this scene is taking place, the copepod often harbours hidden delights, something to amuse itself with: a worm. The two first met when the worm, in the form of an embryo a tenth of a millimetre in length, took a stroll in the same freshwater, and slipped into the copepod. Now, the latter will pass it on, in adult form, to a native or a colonist – this is its only choice.
“Oh hell”, the chosen one will cry when he realises what has happened to him… The male is not too disturbing, at 4 centimetres in length. But the female! Between 50 centimetres and 2 metres in length, 1 millimetre wide… Like half-starved spaghetti, you can’t do better than that. And the female is stuffed full of fertile eggs too, if you had the bright idea to accommodate a couple. As for the places where they set up home, these are diverse. Quite undisciplined creatures (have you ever seen worms march in procession?), they will make their home pretty much anywhere, but always in an amusing place: in the nose, breast, tongue, depending on the seriousness of the joke. One species takes itself off to the most unfortunate extremities and triggers a condition known as elephantiasis. The most unruly, on reaching sexual maturity, slide under the skin on the leg and tauten it like a violin string; some are in B flat, others F sharp: this is surely the origin of the monotone of home-grown tunes.
It is pointless to say to them: “Get lost, worm, and step to it!” Only the melancholic patience of anti-worm winders – a fine job, very relaxing – can pull out the unwanted guest. The necessary tool is not elaborate: simply a bit of wood around which the end of the worm is wound when it emerges - it may be assisted in this task - from the skin. Gently, without tugging it roughly, for fear that it will snap in two and possibly release the thousands of embryos inside, you turn the little piece of wood a quarter-turn, a half-turn, and then one day the job is finished.
Jean Painlevé
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