Day 1706

I am ready for battle if such is what he desires. My blade will taste of his soft flesh if such is his want. I shall know victory, for this is not for me, but for my people.

Day 1694

Whose blood drips now into the pond, in which I see a face beside my machete?

Day 1688

His machete has taken down one of the villager's  buffalo. The hide dries in the noonday sun. He will make sandals from his ill-gotten slaughter, while I continue to walk barefoot through the village and tend to the soil and my people.

Day 1685

The village suffers for my forbearance.

Day 1679

I seek not to harvest his scalp.

Day 1673

I taper the steel and sharpen the wide edge. I build a handle to encase the hard metal. With the tools I make, as best I can, I shall defend this village against its enemies.

Day 1671

Ahmed's boils have grown worse. I venture into the forest and forage for plants with which to make a soothing salve. I see the destruction wrought by his machete on the moist soil.  He is the cobra waiting in the weeds to strike.

Day 1665

He struts through the village wielding two stone-sharpened machetes, hacking at all in his path. Delicate flowers lie wilting on the soft earth. A tear forms in my eye as I cradle Ahmed in my arms.

Day 1656

Like weeds in the untended paddy, the German has planted many lies in my absence.

Day 1654

The German hunts birds with his pellet gun. I prepare the soil.

Day 1652

The German leaves the village on the morning of my breakfast celebration. The people come from their homes to welcome me with open arms. I will not serve Bavarian pastries.

Day 1651

After our stay in my country, I return to the paddy. My tiny flower is wilted. She lives with Manolo in Jefferson, Missouri. I make this post now so that Manolo may know my work. The land here is fertile and lonely. Progress abounds. The German is weak.