I saw them twice when I lived in Florida, and they escaped both times because unlike a lot of roaches they are very very prone to flying, they fly around as much as a moth or something does!
Banana roaches are occasionally kept as pets. They’re not technically native to the U.S, they came in on fruit, but they’re now well-established in Florida, Georgia, and similar areas. We have them now and then in Central Texas. They aren’t considered invasive, and they don’t infest houses, they’re an outdoor-only roach unless they get in and get confused.
If you want to keep some, they’re very easy pets, and fun to watch. Mildly damp enclosure, a layer of leaf litter, a constant supply of cat food and a piece of fruit every few days at least, and you should have happy roaches. Nymphs are brown and flightless, adults are pretty green but very, very flighty. The main problem with them is their escaping due to flying when startled. Open the lid, startle 20 of ‘em, and suddenly they’re everywhere except in the tank.
“I realized today that kids haven’t changed. When I was a kid, we went outside and did stupid shit, in front of other people. Kids today do just as much stupid shit, but from the safety of their rooms! If we’d had Vine, maybe Steve wouldn’t have joined the army, and I’d have both arms-”
before season 7, ezor and zethrid were definitely not heroes, but they certainly weren’t torturous sadists. they switched sides so often they were essentially mercenaries, fighting whomever their leader told them to because they were damn good at it and it was a way to get by during such tumultuous times. ezor’s main traits were being clever and playful, while zethrid was most concerned with showing off her strength and her skill at fighting. neither of them showed themselves to be politically ambitious, nor especially cruel. it wasn’t until season 7, when they were hinted to be in a relationship, that they expressed a desire for power as well as an enjoyment of torturing other sentient beings. this shift from chaotic neutral to chaotic evil directly correlates with the implication of the pair as lesbian. it’s a really insidious type of homophobia.
A story that the Jews tell each other is that when the slaves were fleeing Egypt they came to the edge of the Red Sea and thought: well, fuck, this is it. Water in front of them and enemies behind. They had escaped, sure, but all this meant was that they were going to die free instead of in chains. A meaningful distinction in an abstract sense, but the Jews are a practical people, and mostly what they were concerned with in that moment was: they would be equally dead either way.
A man stepped out from the group. He stepped into the water. He said: mi chamocha ba’eilim adonai? Who is like you Adonai, among the gods who are worshipped? He sang that verse over and over again. He sang it as he waded into the sea. He gave his body over to his faith as he walked. There was nowhere to go but forward. If he was going to die, he figured, and be equally dead either way, he was not going to die in slavery and he was not going to die at the hands of the Egyptians, either. He was going to die walking and singing, believing, trying to find progress in the chaos, in the waves.
In the story, the water laps first at his feet, then his knees, his thighs, his ribs, his neck, finally flowing into his mouth as he sings and sings and sings. The words get choked, mispronounced: the hard cha of mi chamocha becomes mi kamoka, strangled but still certain.
In the story, this man is why the people get their miracle, the waters parting to let them cross through on dry land. It is an act of divine intervention, but it only comes because someone is willing to put his life on the line to make it happen. I keep thinking about him this week, that apocryphal man and how it is a story we make sure to keep telling each other: when there is water in front of you and enemies behind, you do not wait for your god, or a sign. You trust in something larger than yourself and open your mouth to sing about it. You put your feet on the ground and walk forward.
His name was Nahshon ben Aminadav. Descended directly from Judah, he fathered a line of kings. We tell his story to remind ourselves that God does not act in isolation. Humans are not just participants in holy work – we are vital to its success.
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