It seems there is weekly foot-checking ritual; first we estimate numbers of pareshy (burrowing sand fleas) for each volunteer based on their cleanliness, foot-vigilance and sandal vs. boot wearing preferences, then we each have a bucket of water and clean our blackened feet, checking for black dots beneath the skin. I find four and gratefully let Sheila dig out the first with my specially provided safety pin. I gauge out the rest myself; fortunately all of them are small and haven’t made an egg sack yet. Sarah has one that is about the size of a pea removed from behind her toe-nail. Throwing it on the fire to destroy it the whole camp site hears the pop as it explodes. That is just very gross I think whilst sitting by my bucket staring at my feet. This is a very different way to spend Sunday morning, but I’d quite like a croissant anyway.
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