The wind blew that Sept. 11 letter under my stove and a gust of wind this afternoon caused it to reappear, so I am sending it to you late and incomplete, but hopefully still of interest. [most of this letter concerned the women’s association, so it is now in that posting in place of the phone conversation notes.]

I hope to have some work days in Tana when I plan to meet my sister in December to have computer and e-mail access for funding proposal writing. I’ve had around 40 CEG students come by my house to deliver application letters for the 5 spots reserved for V commune youths on our environment training with WCS staff in the forest at the end of October. I’d like to write a Peace Corps Partnership grant proposal to get funding for an environmental education youth trip to Nosy Mangabe some time this summer (or winter, in your hemisphere).

First and foremost I must write a funding proposal to buy plates, bowls, spoons, and cooking pots for that wonderful little women’s association on child nutrition where I spent the day on Tuesday.

A gecko is “laughing” at me from the kitchen wall. Since I had a crazy nightmare where I woke up to the gecko noise I had integrated into my dream, the sound irks me. Larium nightmares are no laughing matter, Mr. Gecko! As long as I can still make bad puns, I must be OK… Off to bed. Love you, Rachel.

Am longing to talk to my family but find that there is no cell phone reception at all today on the beach or in the little corner of my house. How frustrating that when I want most to call—when I’m alone at night in V instead of in the company of friends in M—there is often poor or no reception. I mustn’t complain though. If I had L’s site in A, I would never have reception, and had I arrived here just a few months before I did, M would also have been entirely off the “grid”. I still wish I could hear your voices and tell you about my day and all the memorable things that happened. Hopefully my envelope with photos, journal entries, and letters will arrive soon.

I don’t think anyone—canine or kiddie—has ever gotten as much pleasure out of a squeaky hamburger toy I received in a envelope/package recently as a handful of children in V did today at dusk in my front yard. We played with the hamburger (am saving the squeaky hotdog as a backup for later) for a good hour, playing keep-away, dancing to its various squeaks, and generally amusing the passers-by on their way home from collecting edible plants in the forest. Will have to enforce a firm no-squeaky-time policy for certain hours of the day, otherwise I’m sure I’ll regret ever getting out the toy.

This morning I brought the two young mothers (the ones I visited with their newborns at the clinic in C yesterday) each a little stuffed bear from a letter/package and some manioc cakes. The stuffed bears were for the newborns—I explained that it is an American custom to give stuffed animals to children. The manioc bread I brought each mother as a thank you for letting me visit with them on my tour of the clinic with the doctor and midwife yesterday.

One young mother looked very pleased with the gift. The other was too weak to sit up when I gave her the sachet of goodies. She tried to smile but was obviously either in great pain or deeply sad about something. I’m worried for her, but there is nothing I can do. These women are remarkable. They walk from villages up to 10 km away to give birth at the V clinic, stay three nights for observation, and then return home on foot, carrying their three-day-old infants with them. If not the babies themselves, I’m sure an older sibling will adore playing with the recycled stuffed bears from the thrift shop. It was lovely having them to give. I’m saving the nicest plush baby toy with a rattle inside for the neighbor across the lane who is bound to give birth any day now.

I have two stunning white epiphytic orchids blooming at my house right now, both taken from the little coffee grove down near the “mpandisa vary” [rice fields?], where they had either fallen to the ground or were dangling by a thread-like root from a broken limb. I used dental floss to tie one to the dying mango tree next to my kabone (toilet hut) and put…

This letter got lost, later found and sent, but ended here.