When he had finished knocking down cocnuts as if it were some kind of fairground game he flung the stick into the side where we were working.
I heard Anna, a Swedish volunteer
– but not very Swedish, if you know what I mean. –
cry out and thought she had banged her head on one of the metal supports inside as she was the dodging the stick, but she had actually been hit by the heavy piece of bamboo.
As she walked over she put her hand up to her head and it came away covered in blood. IT was one of those sickening moments when you realise something serious may have happened. Luckily it was only a small cut but one that nevertheless bled profusely. Here all cuts are treated as potentially dangerous not just because they can go septic very quickly in the heat and humidity, but also because of the possibility of infection from the animals. Anyway Anna is fine though only allowed to do light work for the next few days until the wound heals over.
But where is the Green Parrot?
Today as I was having coffee outside the Volunteer House I saw a beautiful pair of hanging parrots eating the fruit of the Jamaican cherry tree. They are a small bright green parrot with a scarlet cap and cartoon eyes.
I had seen them at a distance in the Dua Bersudara Park but never up close.
The birds often seem to go from one fruiting tree to another in small mixed flocks and with the parrots were a group of brilliantly coloured sunbirds.
I’m trying to finish off my work but for some of it I need internet access, and just now that is very slow. Writing can be very frustrating, hands get sticky with sweat, mosquitoes delight to feed on someone sitting still and laptops and the like get extremely hot; having one on your lap becomes unbearable after a while. But most of all it is the mosquitoes I hate. They go for my feet and if those are covered they try my ears and a braver one might explore the possibility of drinking blood from the end of my nose. This usually happens when I am trying to do a trick bit of formatting; I swipe at the mosquito, accidently hit a key on the laptop and lose a morning’s work.
Ants are a different matter. This morning gathering browse I got most of a red ant nest down the back of my neck and later spent a long time in the shower picking them off. The bites sting but don’t itch: it’s bit like standing too close to a sparking fire. I don’t mind the ants they don’t irritate me like the mosquitoes, except the tiny ones when the get into my bed and tickle as they struggle to swim through the sweat.
I’m sure I’ve said all this before but today is a thundery dead wind day, and particularly bad for mosquitoes and bad internet.
So I feel a remoan is not out of place.