My sincerest thanks to all of you who read VSVEVG. I look forward to another year of sharing stories with you.
Dinner and a Swat Team
“We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”
Joan Didion, The White Album
On the other side of our small town in the foot hills of the Sierra Hualta, a four-year-old girl is having nightmares, she dreams of armed and masked men. She has begun to wet the bed. Even daylight she is afraid of shadows. She is afraid to be alone.
The child’s father stands on the path behind my house. Seeking healing for his daughter, he beckons to our houseguest, a practitioner of Santeria. Our guest visits the girl in the mornings before he and Felipe go off to work; he leaves before daylight, before coffee. Three days into the girl’s treatment I am told her tale…
One week before a trip to the US to renew my Visa, Felipe and I were enjoying a special meal; we had wine, and were using the fancy glasses. Suddenly, so suddenly the dogs didn’t have a chance to erupt into their usual cacophony, our patio filled with armed men, soldiers, some of them wearing facemasks. Snipers. They wear masks because they executioners. Our reaction was –this the shocking part, casual . We looked at each other, shook our heads and laughed at little. Continue reading