Last night, I had my first true, hands-on encounter with a snake.

Not as part of a tour, but in the way it simply happens when you live in the jungle.

While cooking, I nearly stepped on her — just 30 cm away, half curled up the kitchen floor.

Here, houses are open to the ground and the ceiling so animals can move in and out freely.

My heart skipped a beat.

I know nothing about snakes — not which ones are dangerous, not how to react.

Yaku ran to call the neighbour: “A boa!” he shouted,

and I laughed, because we’d just been talking about boas in the past days.

(And because we had encountered one in nature the other days, which is so rare)

I watched her in awe and fear as she glided silently through the kitchen

and curled up on an open cupboard floor.

I prayed we could set her free without harm.

The neighbours confirmed it — a young boa!

She had eaten, and now she was simply looking for a dry, safe place to rest and digest.

She looked innocent, almost shy,

and certainly not happy to be disturbed.

With a gentle sweep of the broom,

she slid fearfully yet gracefully out into the night.

Once my heart slowed down,

I felt nothing but gratitude.

What we don’t know, we fear, destroy, or condemn.

Last night, I let go of one stone of fear toward snakes

and made space for love.

May she be resting peacefully somewhere in the jungle now.