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102                     AN EXILE OF THE MIND                                                                      THE RIVER OF LANTERNS                         103


          then to walk gloomily in the pouring  torrent. Returning by ferry was not
          rain to the ruins. The clammy night  possible and we crossed the river in a
          was spent  in the  leafy  shelter  of a  dory, a dugout canoe, which seemed
          thatched hut, windowless with two  even more treacherous.
          camp beds under mosquito netting.       On our way back to  Belize a
          From its  doorway  hung  a strip  of  shaman disclosed  his cure for
          cloth to keep out wild animals.      cancer. A crow boiled complete with
            The archaeologist talked nonstop  feathers and the liquid guzzled down
          about his life among the ruins. About  with a shot of rum. Warned not to
          dangerous mountain lions, snakes,  broadcast  this  remarkable  find  to
          scorpions and vampires. At long last    the world, I  told him a fortune
          I slid into a welcome sleep to be         could be made by selling  his
          jolted awake by a loud explosion.         formula to a pharmaceutical
          A lantern quickly lit revealed a            company.
          charred hole smoking in the                    With my last dollar giv-
          commissioner’s mosquito                      en to the shaman, I waited
          net. A snake had dropped                    patiently  for the  bank  to
          from the bamboo ceiling                      send my funds. My landla-
          onto the net and was dis-                    dy or the ‘Madam’ as I now
          patched at point-blank                        called her, kindly offered a
          range. The commissioner                       loan of some illicit dollars
          hadn’t bothered to move                        from her establishment.
          from the comfort of his bed                    The  Pickwick Club, on
          and casually put his revolver                  learning I wasn’t pimp
          back under his pillow.                      material after all, invited me
            The  next  morning,  still  bleak  to afternoon tea where I showed my
          with  the  Stone  Woman’s  curse,  El  bad manners by scoffing most of the
          Castillo showed its head above the  cakes and five cups of tea.
          rubble and damp vegetation. Heavy       Despite  my dire  situation, the
          rain weakened our resolve to scritch  commissioner’s suggestion  to  visit
          away on the dig. With little funding  buried ruins  was tempting. Forty
          from government, many ruins would  kilometres south of Xunantunich as
          wait years to see the light of day. The
          swollen river was by now a raging        The ruins of Xunantunich today.
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