~y village lay halfway up the<br >eastern flank of a mountain. Approaching it from the valley at dawn，<br >you saw a cluster of houses emerging from the mist like wraiths， and<br >your heart trembled until you realized what they were. No matter how<br >many times you had been to the village， you were always afraid until<br >you knew the shapes you saw were houses and not dead men opening<br >their arms to you.<br > As you walked up the hoof-worn path that twisted right and left<br >around the boulders and clefts， the rude stone dwellings and mud ani-<br >mal sheds turned slowly white. 011 foot， you reached the village by<br >noon， when it slfimmered with heat. You went by dogs curled in the<br >dust， their tongues swollen puwle with thirst and exhaustion， and<br >donkeys in dirty flakes of straw， their flanks ceaselessly twitching with<br >the flies that crawled over them. None of the villagers was to be seen: it<br >was as if the earth had swallowed them alive.<br > My house was highest of all. None was above it and no other on its<br >~qanks. Like a fortress， it sat with its back to a sheer rise of cliff in which<br >eagles had built their nests. A ~q.de courtyard fronted the house， with<br >fig， pomegranate and loquat trees planted along its low rock walls. To<br >one side was a shed where we kept the livestock， and to the other a<br >grape arbor and a run for fowl. Over the door， chiseled in stone， was<br >my father s name: Evenezes.<br >