“Ants are the dominant insects of the world, and they’ve had a great impact on habitats almost all over the land surface of the world for more than 50 million years.”
– American biologist and naturalist, E. O. Wilson
IF there is one thing that appears to unite households – whether in my neighbourhood or across families – it isn’t just the laughter of festive gatherings or the aromas of hearty home-cooked dinners wafting through open windows.
No, what truly connects us is something much less welcome and much less romantic: ants.
For weeks now, my home has been the stage for an endless parade of these tiny invaders.
They appear without warning, marching in stubborn little lines as if they own the place.
The worst part is, they do not even have the decency to confine themselves to one corner or one cupboard.
Some days they are in the kitchen, forming trails towards the sugar jar or rice container.
Other days they surprise me in the bathroom, the laundry room, or – most alarmingly – near my baby’s things.
As a new mother with a two-month-old at home, the sight of ants is not just a nuisance anymore.
It’s a genuine concern.
Babies, after all, spend so much time on soft mats and cribs close to the ground.
The last thing I want is for my little one to have tiny ants crawling nearby and exploring places they should not.
Every new mother worries about germs, cleanliness, and safety – add an ant infestation into the mix, and it feels like an unfair extra load of stress.
Of course, like many people, I have tried everything you can imagine.
Ant sprays with pungent chemical odours.
Vinegar wiped across the counters.
Coffee grounds and chalk lines sprinkled like protective talismans.
Even those neatly packaged ant baits promising to “eradicate the colony in 24 hours”.
Each remedy seems to work for a day or two, only for the ants to regroup, reorganise, and march right back into the house as if scoffing at my efforts.
I have heard the same frustration echoed all around me.
Our neighbours exchange stories of the methods they have tried – one swears by pouring boiling water directly into ant burrows in the garden, another dusts cinnamon across doorways, convinced it disrupts their scent trails.
My mother, living miles away, faces the same issue in her home.
And my mother-in-law shakes her head, stating that ants today have developed a modern-day resistance to the old tricks our grandparents used to swear by.
In a way, that is what makes this battle both frustrating and oddly comforting: I am not alone.
We are all grappling with these obstinate little pests together.
But when I think about my baby, it does not feel so comforting.
I find myself triple-checking his cot, peering around the nursery floor, and wiping down every surface just to ensure the ants do not get too close.
At this stage of motherhood, sleep is already precious and fragmented – having to wage war against ants feels like one battle too many.
It makes me wonder if there is a larger story behind these pests.
Perhaps it is the climate, the humidity, or even urban development pushing them into our homes.
Maybe the abundance of packaged and sweetened foods makes our kitchens more inviting than ever.
Or maybe this is simply the reality of coexisting with nature: as much as we would like to keep our homes tidy, sterile and ant-free, these creatures are just trying to survive.
Still, that does not make it any less exasperating when I see a neat little line of them making their way across the floor, heading straight for my baby’s bottle steriliser.
There are moments when I feel as though they are mocking me – reminding me that no matter how many times I clean, mop, or spray, they will find a way back in.
Motherhood has a way of heightening every sense and every instinct.
Suddenly, small problems feel much larger because they touch on that primal urge to protect.
Before my baby arrived, ants were little more than a bother, a background irritation with their small, unassuming presence.
Now, they feel like trespassers, unsettling not only my kitchen but also my calm, their tiny ranks advancing endlessly toward any crumb, drip, or forgotten spill in sight.
It is not only my sugar jar they threaten; it is my sense of order, a quiet reminder that nature follows its own rules, unconcerned with the borders we draw.
Maybe the lesson is not only about keeping ants out, but about learning the fragile balance between protecting what matters and accepting what we cannot fully control.
We humans constantly wrestle our surroundings into shape, yet ants refuse to yield, a sharp reminder of the tenacity of the natural world.
In my home, this tug-of-war unfolds daily – sprays ready to be used, vinegar waiting as a gentler defence, patience thinning with every fresh line of invaders that dares to return.
Though I desperately want a retreat untouched by ants, trading stories with neighbours, my mother, and my mother-in-law brings comfort. We laugh, sigh, and roll our eyes together, finding relief in the shared understanding of this ongoing battle.
Ants, tiny yet tireless, have taken their spot among the daily foes of my new motherhood, reminding me that even small struggles draw deeply on our reserves.
Within this miniature saga of domestic life, they stand in for the countless hurdles we face – constant proof that endurance and support carry us through, even in the quiet, ordinary corners of our days.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune. The writer can be reached at sarahhafizahchandra@gmail.com.
