Saving Fish from Drowning - Heal Burma

SAVING FISH FROM DROWNING
make their way posthaste onto the boats. A few minutes later, the
two boats were speeding across the lake, the cool breeze soothing
throats that had so recently been swollen with the irritation of delays
and cheroot smoke. I sat at the prow of one boat, trying to warn
them to go back.
We drifted among islands of hyacinth, into one narrow inlet after
another. The canal turned and twisted like a waterlogged hedge
maze. After innumerable detours, the boats floated toward a
makeshift ramp constructed of reeds latched together and set atop
treadless truck tires.
“Are we sure this is steady?” Heidi said as she stood to climb out.
“Very safe,” Black Spot answered.
Moff sprang out first and extended his hand to help the others. In
single file, they walked through a slim cut in the thick reedy banks.
The air had warmed, and the mosquitoes were stirred to action by
their footfalls. Hands slapped at legs, and Heidi brought out a small
pump bottle of one hundred percent DEET, which everyone grate­
fully partook of. Vera, who had on thick-soled sandals, sprayed her
feet, and unbeknownst to her, the repellent dissolved her coral nail
polish, which she then smeared on her opposite foot, which she also
did not notice.
A little ways in was a one-lane dirt road, where a truck bulged over
the sides. “That must be at least fifty years old,” Bennie said. Two
young men waved. They seemed to be acquainted with Black Spot
and Salt, who walked over to them and began chatting energetically.
And in fact, they did know each other, for the truck driver was
Grease, Black Spot’s cousin, and the other man was Fishbones, the
thin man who had piloted the longboat with the luggage the day be­
fore. My friends noted that all four men were behaving rather oddly,
throwing nervous looks toward them. Ah, the travelers surmised
among themselves, they were doing their best not to give away wily
Walter’s Christmas surprise.
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