Blogging, Writing, and Publishing

The next morning, John set Buttercup down for a bumpy but otherwise perfect landing at the Tarampura airstrip. He made a mental note that the strip of land carved from brush and trees would have to be groomed before it got out of hand. He also noted Marta wasn’t there to greet him. “Hi, John! Are we going to fly on this nice day?” Tucker asked. “I don’t think we can. The nurse and I still have a lot of villages to visit,” John said. Numah smiled a bashful greeting. “Where is Marta? Doesn’t she come to greet friends anymore?” asked Sandy. “She want us to bring you. She fight with the village doctor,” Tucker said. They climbed hurriedly to the village. They could hear Marta yelling loudly in the local dialect. When frustrated, she threw in intermittent English. “What do you mean waving these feathers over him? This isn’t going to do any good. Just give it up and let me help,” Marta begged. The witch doctor just grunted and continued his magic. Multi¬colored sacred bird feathers fluttered...

   “Let’s help them,” Tucker said, grabbing John’s hand and pulling him toward the commotion in the forest.      The village surroundings had been busy with the sound of leaves crunching, vines cracking, and rhythmic chants for the past 30 minutes. Tucker led laughing gleefully as they went to investigate. Finally they found twenty men pulling on thick vines as they advanced the progress of a huge sago palm toward the village.      “It is big, John. It will bring us lots of food. The kind you eat a lot of last time,” said Tucker.      “I don’t remember eating food from a tree. What do you mean?” John asked as he stepped in behind one of the men.      Both John and Tucker were now struggling with the cumbersome tree. They made slow progress as the tree scraped across the jungle floor inch by inch. Awkward at first, John soon fell in with the rhythm of the cadence and found the load easier to bea...