‘Right.’
‘And die of it!’ With this, he doubled up with laughter.
Eventually, having calmed down enough to speak, he said, ‘Lighten up, man. You’ve just got a bit of diarrhoea. It’s nothing. Drink water and you’ll be fine. At least you haven’t got this!’
He pulled up his trouser leg and showed me an angry-looking trench gouged out of his skin, just next to the shin-bone.
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s from a worm that lives in bad water. It swims through a tiny cut in your skin, or even up the end of your dick, then it grows inside you to a big, big size, living inside your… what do you call this?’
‘Your veins?’
I felt dizzy.
‘Veins. Exactly this. Once the worm gets to be big, you feel the pain, but there’s not a sign of it on the surface, and no one can tell what’s wrong with you. You have to keep your eyes out, and if you see a lump near the skin which is moving, you must dig with a needle, until you see enough of the worm’s head. You can’t pull it out all at once because it will snap, and worse than having a live worm in you is having a dead one, so you must put the head around a matchstick, and then give the stick one twist a day, until the whole worm is winding round outside your leg.’
My knees went weak, and a head-rush closed in on my vision. I gripped the door-frame tighter and tried not to listen.
‘If the worm gets to your heart, that’s it. The end. Paf! I am lucky. I get it out of my leg.’
We both admired the hole in his shin for a second. I felt some strength come back to my thighs and my peripheral vision returning.
‘And that’s lucky, is it?’
‘Yeah, sure.’
‘Is it ever going to heal?’
‘One day, I hope. There’ll be a scar, though.’
‘That’s good.’
‘Eh?’
‘Something to show for your efforts, and all that.’
‘Oh, no. I kept the worm. I can always use this if I need proof.’
‘You carry the worm around with you?’
‘No, don’t be silly. I post it back to my parents’ house.’
‘And they’re keeping it for you?’
‘I ask my mother to pickle it, but I think she’s not so keen.’
‘Strange, that.’
‘Yeah. Look – my friends are waiting. You want me to get you some water?’
‘Please. That would be great.’
‘You want some food?’
‘No. Can’t eat.’
‘You should.’
‘I can’t.’
‘I’ll get you bananas. When you feel stronger, you should eat boiled rice.’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘I’ll be back soon. Go to bed.’
‘Thank you. You’re really kind. You’ve saved my life.’
‘I don’t think it’s quite this bad.’
‘No, really. Thank you. I’m so grateful.’ I felt my eyes moistening, and my chest filled with a pressure that wanted to turn itself into a sob.
The guy put his hand on my shoulder. ‘You’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘Hey – what’s your name?’
I took a deep breath and spoke in a high-pitched, wobbly voice. ‘Dave, from England. You?’
‘Igor Boog, from Delft in Holland.’ He smiled at me and gave my shoulder a squeeze. ‘You’ll be fine, Dave. I come back soon.’
‘Thanks. Really – thanks.’
‘It’s OK.’
As he wandered away, his sandals clacking against his heels, I called after him, ‘Thanks, Igor.’
He laughed and raised a hand to me without turning round. ‘Be brave, Dave,’ he said and disappeared down the stairs, chuckling.
For the next week, I barely left my room. Igor popped in every morning and brought me water, bananas, and after a couple of days, boiled rice. He sat with me while I ate and cheered me up with tales of crippling and life- threatening diseases.
Near the end of the week, just as I polished off my first boiled egg, Igor told me that he’d already extended his stay in Bangalore by a couple of days, and now that I was on the mend, he really had to get going.
I felt myself wanting to cry again.
‘OK’, I said.
‘I have to go, Dave. There’s nothing left for me to do in Bangalore.’
‘OK. Thanks for everything, anyway. I wouldn’t have survived without you.’
‘I think you might have done.’
‘You saved my life.’
‘It wasn’t even dysentery, you know.’
‘I know, but I’d just had enough of everything, and… I mean, I’ve still had enough of everything, but at least I’ve got the strength to walk now.’
For some reason this made him laugh.
‘You have to be more positive, man. India’s a great country.’
‘I know, I know.’
‘It’s the best place in the world.’
‘After England.’
‘You should try travelling in Africa. In Africa they’ve this fly which lays its eggs in wet clothes. When the eggs feel the warmth of a body, they hatch into tiny maggots which wriggle through your skin and start to grow inside you. You can only get them out by rubbing Vaseline…’
‘Please, Igor. I’m not in the mood today.’
‘I’m just trying to cheer you up.’
‘I know, I just… feel a bit weak. I really am on my own once you’ve gone. I’ve got some friends in Cochin, but I’ll never catch up with them now, and it’s all just a bit shit at the moment.’
‘Dave – you were ill, now you’re better. So be happy.’
‘You’re right.’
‘I’m not going to be here to tell you funny stories any more, so you have to take a positive attitude.’
‘You’re right.’
‘You have to do it on your own now.’
‘OK. And thanks for everything. I mean – for staying behind to help me. Most people aren’t kind enough to… I mean, they wouldn’t… and you… you…’ I had to stop, or I would have burst into tears.
Igor squeezed my arm, and I started to sob.
‘Come on, tough guy,’ he said.
‘Sorry. I don’t mean it. I’m just grateful, that’s all.’
‘Hey – it was nothing. Anyone would have done the same.’ He passed me a corner of the sheet to wipe my face.
‘You’re very kind.’
