Monday

I spend Friday at home, resting up, writing up my journal. In the evening there is a power cut. Everyone else is out so Oma and I huddle round a candle at the kitchen table trying to decipher the rules to a National Geographic board game. The game is too complicated to take seriously but we have fun anyway, telling each other stories in the candle light until it is time to go to bed. I open “In the Memories of a forest

I wake at dawn, rested and comfortable and urged out of my hammock by a biological imperative in tune with the sun. As we go through the ritual of morning, the brushing of teeth, the washing of faces, the greetings, the slow waiting around while chai and rice is prepared I gently encourage a discussion of the day ahead. We agree we are going to leave at 4pm this being the generally acknowledged point when it gets cooler and therefore easier to rid