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I drank a few cups, forcing myself to consume only the liquid and to leave the residue for morning. Then, my stomach full, I organised my belongings. The rice and beans were wet and mouldy. So were the garlic and spices. I laid everything out on stones near the fire. I gathered more dry wood to keep the blaze going all night. I took the poncho and the mosquito nets out of the pack. I got everything else ready before I took my shoe off. That I put off to last, knowing that it would be far from pleasant.

The pain was excruciating. My socks reeked. They were covered with yellowish red stains. I gritted my teeth when I peeled them off. My feet were a horrible sight. Most of the skin had peeled off, and between my toes was a mess of inflamed flesh, blood, and pus. I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to walk. I knew that I had to dry my feet and put something on them. I dug around the first-aid kit again. In the absence of petroleum jelly I finally decided on the repellent cream and spray, which were slightly greasy. I spent the entire night holding my feet out to the fire and then pulling them back again. The pain was agonising, sleep impossible.

When morning came, I realised just how weak I was. I crawled out on my hands and knees to gather more wood for the fire. I added water to yesterday's soup and heated it again. There were a few pieces of mushy fruit left. I didn't want to waste them and forced them down my throat. I sat