To spill the guts or not, that is the question. Poor gokiburi (cockroach), the bane of almost every Japanese, whose fate often ends beneath those thick geta clogs, or suffocating in those nerve gas-like insecticides, or worse, left starving to death in the infamous gokiburi hoi hoi (cockroach trap) until their pathetic lives flash before their very eyes.
I pity these hapless, totally harmless creatures, whose main purpose in life is just to feed itself and its family. Some of them may have even graduated with honors from Cockroach University, with advanced degrees in “Surviving Winter in Japan” or “Advanced Reconnaissance” just to avoid those “sadistic” humans, especially Japanese ladies who are often terrified by these gentle pets, I mean, pests.
Is this gokiburi just drunk or dead? (from Vectorstock).
But really, there are people known to keep cockroaches as pets and even for food. As lab animals, they are ideal, for they are easy to care for and safe to handle because they neither sting nor bite nor carry disease. And in their guts is a walking culture collection of bacteria and protozoa, allowing them to eat a wide range of substances. Like all other living things, they are part of nature, as unique as you and me.
The Japanese home, however, is a virtual battleground for humans and gokiburi, where all sorts of chemicals and gadgets are used to obliterate them from the face of the earth. But honestly, they really don’t mind. An ancient species, they’ve got 320 million years of evolution behind them, having hardly changed throughout several millennia. Humans are just kohais (juniors) compared to them.
And while humans would probably vanish in a nuclear war or if a large meteorite hits the earth, these gokiburis would still be happily going about their business, with those active, powerful antennae that can detect even tiny amounts of food and moisture from afar. There are also sensory structures behind their abdomen that enable them to sense minute air movements, allowing them to flee from danger within 54/1000th of a second. Beat that! The oily cuticle on their bodies, on the other hand, protects them from dehydration.
Despite all these facts, killing gokiburi is big business in Japan. Just check the nearest supermarket and you’ll probably see about 10 different kinds of insecticides, cockroach cottages with different designs, as well as those electronic types that irritate the gokiburis’ senses into leaving for the next house. In the height of summer when it’s their breeding time, you’ll probably kill or capture a couple hundred of them per week. But that doesn’t mean they’re gone; you just got the dummies. The more evolved, intelligent ones are probably having board meetings over coffee under your fridge.
I once had a Japanese lady-friend who was not only afraid of gokiburi; it actually became her mortal fear, a sort of gokiburiphobia. She told me that when she once saw one in her room, she shouted so hard that she lost her voice for more than three days. The cockroach, which was just nosing around some old newspapers hoping to catch the latest showbiz buzz, was utterly oblivious to this human’s unjustified terror. When the gokiburi saw her run away, it also ran in the opposite direction.
This inordinate fear can also cost money in the long run. I have this Japanese male friend who was willing to pay twice for a classier and cleaner apartment, believing that cockroaches aren’t found there. Came the warmer months and he saw three species playing baseball, his favorite sport, in one of his cupboards. Poor guy! He told me he screamed.
All these talk about gokiburis somehow reminded me of the great Austrian writer Franz Kafka, whose short story “Metamorphosis” tells about a hardworking insurance agent who awakens to find himself transformed into an enormous insect; rejected by his family, he is left to die alone.
Such may be the fate of the gokiburis trapped in the hoi hoi. But looking back at Kafka’s work, whose lucid style, blend of reality and fantasy, and tinge of ironic humor, could jostle us into thinking that these cockroaches could be former humans, but embroiled in a Kafkaesque world. Hmmm – that’s something to think about. Then if that is the case, it may also be possible that some humans now were previously cockroaches. I think I saw one just the other day reading a girlie magazine.
In revolutionary parlance, this low-intensity conflict between humans and gokiburis in Japan is a multi-billion yen operation. But don’t ever think that all these sprays, traps and gadgets will ever eliminate the cockroach population from Japanese soil. If all gokiburis were gone, then there would be no need for all these sprays, traps and gadgets, and you’ll have more jobless folks on the streets. They’re there just to kill some and keep the rest happily copulating in new, salubrious locations.
So if there’s no way to get rid of them, then just be nice and talk them out into moving for the next house. Who knows, they might answer back–in Japanese. Ngeee!
Originally published in Philippines Today.