I happened upon a slaughter this morning when I was coming back from my bike ride.
Jubilee.
So, tonight… we dine. On meat.
Extra salty meet, unfortunately.
I distinctly remember watching Kim stand over the giant pot boiling on the coals and dump unreasonable amounts of season salt into the mix. This may or may not have something to do with the saltiness. But I didn’t say a word. So neither should you.
It was still delicious enough to cause Kim to burst into song. Great old hymns. Top of her lungs. Not exactly hitting every note. (I do believe a dog started to howl…)
Our dear neighbor Laudina yelled over and asked if Kim was drunk on balu. Many a night I’ve spent enduring the unpleasant musical stylings of drunken Lopit women, so her question made sense.
Hilarious.
Our little village is packed so tightly on this mountainside that I could hear other people chuckling at our conversation.
I’m off to convince them all that Kim isn’t, in fact, wasted. Wish me luck…
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