Monday, December 10, 2007

Babies crying, Chirstmas cannons and boils

This is less a blog entry and more a moment.

I am lying face down on the bed, my right butt cheek exposed to the world while Cale re-bandages it. Just behind the house our littlest host brother is wailing at the top of his lungs and somewhere in the distance a family is firing the traditional Christmas cannon (basically a large, long piece of bamboo filled with kerosene). The booms of the cannon echo off the mountains and our host brother’s cries ring in our ears, just another day in the village in Sāmoa.

— Sara

1 comment:

Barb Carusillo said...

Honey chile, it sounds like you are beset and besot with troubles. Since your boils seem to be multiplying like Tribbles (Star Trek? That's right, you are too young to know "The trouble with Tribbles") I have forwarded your blog to a friend who is a wound care specialist, who has daily contact with plastic surgeons and wound care docs. Maybe one of them has some ideas on how to expedite the end of hurricane season for you. Thank God for Cale. Give him a big sanquine kiss for me.