The small town smelled of burning wood in the evening.

People cooked using firewood. The smell coming from each house

smelled delicious. It was a very small town. No electricity. Drinking

water. No toilets but latrines. At times I thought I could have been

swallowed by one of them. The smell of chorizo and coffee was

inebriating. And you as a kid you eat as a horse. Which I did.

As the sun set, cicadas and frogs started their nightly performances.

Oh, and the owls…uuu….uuu….uuu….I walked all day long barefoot

without a shirt. Swam in the deep river along with a bunch of other

kids. God knows how I survived those perilous times. And when time

for dinner arrived, I was so hungry and ready to eat even the griddle.

Then it would be bedtime. Laying on a cot while my Father talked to

others by the fire. They looked as hooded monks. For the effect of the

petroleum lamp projecting their shadows against the wall.

Their conversation sounded as music to me. They talked about

important issues about life I was unaware to understand. Eventually I

would fall asleep. And next day it was the same beautiful routine in my

life.

EO