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wafted through the dwelling. Louise inhaled deeply, hoping the smell would satiate her a little. The woman reappeared, carrying plates of hot food for Charles and Louise. However, for Don Pedro, Benjamin, and Maud, she brought only a bowl of mashed plantains. Louise immediately stood and offered her plate to her sister.
    “Maud can have my portion.”
    The awa dismissed her with a shake of his head.
    “Plantains and water! That’s all she can have until the healing is victorious!”
    “This is ridiculous! Get your things Louise. We’re leaving.” Charles said.
    Just then Maud awoke. For the first time since they left home no cough sputtered from her lips. She rubbed her eyes and looked around. Charles dashed to her side.
    “Maudy darling! Are you all right?”
    “Oh Papi! I dreamt I was at home in my bed,” Maud said, her eyes glossy with sleep. “Mother was there, and she brought me some plantains to eat. They smelled so good, and I was so hungry.”
    Charles could not conceal his astonishment. The bowl of mashed plantains rested on a trestle. Don Pedro picked it up and gave it to Maud.
    AT DUSK, AFTER EVERYONE HAD EATEN, the ritual began. Stars appeared one by one against an indigo sky. Don Pedro explained to them the special significance of twilight.
    “When night buries the day, the ancient memory of spirit prevails. It is time to talk to mediators and to Sibo, who owns everything you can see!”
    He dropped a bundle of leaves, roots, and vines into a cauldron of boiling water on the hearth. Stones of various sizes and shapes tumbled out of a small canvas bag onto the ground. The awa started to sing. He interspersed his song with questions and then blew on the stones.
    He shook the gourd rattle as if to cleanse the air. Benjamin sat on the floor softly beating a drum between his knees. To Louise, it was like the heartbeat of the verdant countryside. She could not help staring at him. Moonlight danced across his hands as he played. The uneven shadows cast by the fire on his face gave it an ethereal, painterly quality. At that moment Louise became aware of her sister, who had been watching her. She quickly diverted her attention to their father. Charles, leaning low in his chair, was fighting sleep. Outside a chorus of creaking frogs and crickets seemed to harmonize with Benjamin’s soothing rhythm. Her gaze wandered back to the awa’s grandson.
    The ritual went on a long time. To Charles’s relief, a local boy was sent to the river to tell the carriage to come back in the morning. Soon Louise’s head grew heavy and the ceremony began to fade. She was resting against a wooden pillar when she heard Benjamin start to sing. The clarity of his voice rose in the fragrant evening air. Through glazed eyes she saw Benjamin give Don Pedro the log he had stripped earlier, the one she heard him call an “ulu.” The awa scrawled drawings on the log with a piece of charcoal. From a distance it looked like all sorts of crude stick figures and abstract symbols. You’re an artist. Benjamin’s words echoed in her ears. There was something fascinating about him, in the way he moved and spoke to her. Somehow Benjamin and his grandfather were able to speak the language of nature, of healing; a language Louise did not understand but could sense its truth and goodness.
    The little woman came back again, this time offering blankets and hammocks for Louise and Charles to sleep in. It had grown quite cold and late. His first inclination was to refuse, but Maud had already been instructed to lie down in the hammock nearest Don Pedro, who, after covering her with a blanket, returned to his chanting. Maud, at last, slept soundly. Charles had no choice but to accept the offer. Benjamin sat cross-legged and still on a mat, assisting his grandfather in meditation. Louise got up from her stool, her limbs stiff from sitting so long, and swung her worn body into the first hammock near the fire. She fell asleep almost immediately, the