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When roaches felt at home in our new flat

The shifting process was a pain, naturally. There was no routine. Dinner was erratic.

Last week, we moved into a new house and it's lovely. I haven't missed the old place despite imagining that I was so attached to it that I would never be able to live elsewhere.
The shifting process was a pain, naturally. There was no routine. Dinner was erratic. The kitchen was running on one-horse power. Milk-less tea was all that was being made. There was no WiFi for three days (until the Du guy came and set it up). And the only décor for the first 48 hours was 100 cardboard boxes strewn around. I took pictures to archive this 'journey' from chaos to order. I am happy to report that bit by bit things have fallen into place. My muscles ache less.
However, the one minus point is cockroaches. They're tiny, babies. Rabbits the same age would be cute. And I'm stomping on these roach babies like a crusader because do you know how disappointing it is to spot cockroaches on your floor on the first night at your new apartment?! I wanted to cry. Then I cried. Exhaustion and cockroaches aren't a desirable combination. I never saw any in the old place. I was fuming. So why are they here?! More importantly, how are they here? And what can I do to destroy them?
There was no cooking going on, no garbage lying around, so this intrusion didn't make sense. And so, between browsing Dubizzle for "pre-loved" appliances and furniture, I began my research on roaches. They love water and grease. And the collective noun is a nest of cockroaches. Kill me, I thought.
I went to a nearby Carrefour to check out the aisle of chemical spray killers. This in itself was an education because I haven't had to deal with unwelcome guests of the four-legged kind in Dubai before. At the aisle, I saw a name I hadn't seen before: Pif Paf. Cute. I repeated it to myself as I moved right along.
From growing up in the third world though, I know 'Baygon' and 'Flit', and I didn't want those cans lying under the sink. They're ugly. Plus, I don't want a film of poison settling on the oranges and bananas in my fruit bowl. Nor am I keen on calling pest control just yet - same fruit bowl reason.
I was lamenting to a friend who was telling me, "I use a powder called Lakshman Rekha. It stops the cockroaches from crossing a line," he said, adding a laughing emoji. I was annoyed and typed: "For God's sake, I know what Lakshman Rekha is! I grew up in India too, you know."
Then I shared with my friend my newly learnt knowledge that cockroaches hate the smell of bay leaves. I got an, "Oh please" with an eye roll emoji and a predictable couple of lines to "Give up this organic fixation. if they can survive a nuclear holocaust. blah blah. you think bay leaves. blah blah".
I paid no heed. I went back to Carrefour and picked up a fresh-looking packet of Bayara bay leaves. The leaves were green. I was filled with hope.
In my research, from Wikihow.com, I gleaned that "just 2 or 3 drops of a soapy water solution can kill a roach. Ensure that it makes contact with the roach's head and lower abdomen"(!!) How should I ensure this, Wiki, how?!
So, I went home, ripped apart the packet of bay leaves and began littering them in cabinets, cupboards, near the fridge, under the sink, feeling like Florence Nightingale for my non-lethal, humanitarian approach to these wretched vermin. Soapy water could wait.
If the bay leaves don't work, I will try boric acid powder balls with flour and sugar that my grandmother taught me years ago to make. We once made a paste together and levelled a film of the gunk in the kitchen, under the kitchen counter. Now, if only I could remember whether that was effective.
nivriti@khaleejtimes.com