Bush Doctor

Jungles scream at night. The air is liquid lead dipped in green fur. The village has a lamp on a pole, when the dark rushes in that one light makes a yellow circle of light that we would run to if danger pounced out of nowhere. Insects are thickest around 2 in the morning they blanket ears and minds deaden the soul. Our savior arrives early, dawn struggles up from the reek and mire to clear our heads. Now it is the howling time, a monkey chorus proclaiming victory over the snakes and panthers. The village stirs, they go for water, feed the skinny chickens and the hairy pigs. The make-shift clinic opens its straw eyes, they come.