There’s the idea of today having been better, attributed to a tea drunk last night that El Patron called to his wife to put in front of me, made from moringa (‘the tree of life’, its leaves ground into a muddy-green dust). My muscles aren’t as sore, but perhaps they’ve had time to have changed their minds.
More of yesterday today and the question from the bowlegged, hard-of-hearing one hoeing near me (‘alongside’ might suggest we share my brand of suffering), “Do you think you’ll last the three months?” The same question that had been in my head, so I laughed and looked away, returning to ask if he was awaiting an answer. Too cowardly to face myself after expressing nothing but gratitude to my hosts before the work started, sneaking out before the cocks start crowing isn’t an option.
The moments of joy are giddying and are found in simple things like the walk home in a drizzle; the sight of trees making clouds in the distant mountains; a chicken on the path above seeing me and dashing about, hands in the air as if it had been caught naked; picking wild blackberries (below) shiny from bursting with vitamin C (like limes); not minding the dogs welcoming me home with muddy front paws since I’m already filthy; sighing because there’s been no one to lead by the hand into the bush.
Limes
Enjoy the enjoyable and manage the other parts comprising the entire experience.
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