I could not decide to leave, to clear the small house and pack the luggage and reflect on the past few days and events in the village.

Often villagers enter our farmyard to greet us, to have a chat, a question…

– A sturdy woman, now stumbles with a found baton. Gasping, sweating and cheeks red of fever sits down. She pulls over her leg and lifts her skirt: open wounds full of pus. The overloaded cart she sat on, knocked down in the ditch. With her wounded leg she walked over 9 km home. I apply a bandage on her wounds, provide painkillers and call one of the strong boys of the village, who carries her on his back to the road. Together they leave for the hospital.
– A burning hut, a two year old died, a ‘lost’ father.
– A by a fire deformed young girl, does not react any more, refuses to speak, stays indoor….

The day I leave -5 hour drive on a very bad road-I hear on the road about the eruption of fire and ashes in Iceland.
The next day when I have returned home I hear good news: the physician decided not to amputate the woman’s leg and in a few weeks she can walk again in her farmyard. The strong boy decided to train handicapped children in swimming and foremost to offer them an hour of fun in the water.

Back in the village: my hesitation  to leave feels right, just, I could never presume its cause..
A more detailed report: see How, ‘travel stories’, but just in Dutch version!