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another shelter. I couldn’t leave this one but had to stay and fight. The ants were coming at me from every direction, one after another, and I fought them off furiously. I didn’t have anywhere else to throw them, and a great pile of their corpses heaped up between my thighs.

It went on the whole night long. I can’t find words to describe the horror of it. The ants came at me from all sides and began biting my face, the back of my neck, my chest, waist, and thighs. One ant bit into the sole of my foot, and I couldn’t get at it, down inside the rubber bag, out of my reach. It took a big bite, tearing into the bloody flesh, took another bite, and another.

‘Come a little higher up. Come on, just a little closer, and I’ll rip you apart!’

I had begun collecting a few ants at a time, rubbing them together between the palms of my hands, letting the pulp fall between my legs. I didn’t have a moment’s rest. I had forgotten about my hunger and my aching feet. I was in a fury, filled with loathing and vengeance. I pulled them off my eyelids, out of my ears, out of my hair, from my arms and legs. The pile of bodies was enormous, and I had to spread my legs farther apart to make room for them all. I had gotten used to the stinging pain of their bite and killed them by the dozens, but the horror was never-ending.

With the first rays of morning light I pulled myself to a sitting position with a feeling of great