And so I told her, through the awkwardness of a translator, roughly what she could expect.
Yoella diagnosed a young woman with diabetes following a routine urine test. Tiffany gave her $60 to get herself seen at another hospital, knowing full well she will never get reliable access to insulin.
Leon won the pool – we saw 210 people.
We had roasted piglet and fried breadfruit (which has the same taste and consistency as French fries). Then Yoella and I (and eventually Steve) spent an hour on the roof feeling the wind, and watching the dark shapes of the clouds and the odd shooting star.
Tiffany checked her phone messages today, and there was one from the Canadian embassy, wondering if we’d survived the hurricane, which we now learned had killed at least one hundred people on the island of Hispaniola. Our families are likely freaking out. I called home and left a message.