The hovel was dark and hazy with smoke from the old healer’s cure. She leaned close to her patient as she spread the mixture of ointment and dirt and saliva onto the woman’s chest. In a little while the invalid would be resting again and the girl was hopeful as she watched the witchdoctor gather up her belongings. She followed her out into the little yard. The curandera was even more frightening in the daylight and she stank of her treatments. Her breath was bad. It reeked of the various things she smoked and blew onto her patients. The little girl looked at the medicine woman scratching her backside as she pointed to the remaining chickens. The girl complied. She didn’t need to be told, she knew that the payment would be dear. The sick woman had no earthly possessions, money, jewelry or any goods of consequence. The little girl didn’t know what they’d do without chickens as now there’d be no eggs. “She is beyond my help.” The curandera eyed the chickens doubtfully. The little girl wondered why, then, she was being paid.
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