Continuing my reporting on Bhutanese refugees, tonight I went to a health event in Rogers Park. What I knew was that the health promoter I'm profiling was giving a talk. What I didn't know was that the event was called because the refugees' building had bedbugs.
Did you know that everybody -- no matter their race, creed, language or religion -- makes the same disgusted look when squinting through a magnifying glass at a plastic baggie full of dead bedbugs?
We may all taste the same to the little devils, but we're not all equally vulnerable. These folks don't have the money to run their clothes through the dryer (the first step in battling the bugs), let alone to buy the plastic mattress covers and caulking equipment that health officials recommend.
Apparently a number of apartments in that building are infested, and now I'm trying to figure out how to bake my clothes (yes, oven, low temperature kills 'em, too) and how to make my skin stop crawling.
Not exactly what I had in mind when I set out to swashbuckle...
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