TFR Home Page | Contents | Prev. Page | Next Page | Comments |
By Nathan Leslie The men hold gourds in their left hands as they yank the lake with scoop nets for red-eyed tetras, the color of grass tendrils shot through with sun. They will grind the shoalers alive, stone into stone, a paste with cassava and rice, and egg. Fish all day for a pound. Some cast spells, rubbing board and root, others hex driving nails into a spirit carving. Can't do this always--luck's limit. Watch them by the waters, plucking prisms from their nets, thunking the gourds with the thrashing fish. |
© Copyright 1997, 2024, The Fairfield Review Inc., All Rights Reserved.
Document last modified on: 02/17/2003