Tendai points to a huge gourd the size of a TV and tells me that she's made a batch of seven-day-beer for me. At seven days it's ripe, she says, but by then it's so strong Rabson can't smell it without reactivating his ulcer. This stuff here is four days and it's stronger than the stuff on the bus so take it slow.

I take it as slow as a frat boy at a chug-a-long and about the time I'm ready for a nap, Giveness, the sixteen-year-old, says she's going to the river for water. I go along for the air and discover that the river is a big hole with a puddle of muddy water at the bottom and a layer of translucent spume floating on top. We fill up our two five-gallon jugs with brown water, nearly drying up the river, and wheel-barrel them back to the huts, about a mile.

The way back I wonder if it was this mud-hole or some other cleaner mud-hole that supplied all the water for the seven-day-beer in my gut.

Back in the kitchen, Grampa has a firm hold of a goat, of all things. The poor thing's clamped between the old man's knees and making frightened little let-me-go noises. He's petting it and mumbling to his son-in-law. Rabson looks beaten, and I gather that this has something to do with bride price. The old man says something to me and Rabson translates. He wants to know if you can kill a goat?

I think about it for a half second. No thank you. I'm honored, but no. I hear myself and I sound like a wimp. Come, Rabson says. So we go out and he slits the poor goat's throat while I get to step on its head.

It's part of the bride price, he tells me. An interest payment. I give the goat meat to my father-in-law. Out of respect, he gives most of it back to me and the family. He'll give part to you as our guest. I say it doesn't sound all that bad. Why so glum?

Cause it ain't my goat. It's my wife's. She traded for it, raised it. When it got bigger, I think she had plans. I mean to ask what kind of plans, but get sidetracked when a flash of lightening blinds me, and the thunderclap makes me deaf for several minutes.

When do you give him the cows? I shout. Rabson doesn't know how to answer. He looks at the sky. Let's not mention the cows, huh.

By the time we finish skinning and cutting up the goat the sky's purple-yellow with clouds. A gusher starts that won't quit. In a big show, Rabson gives the old man the meat and he parcels it up just as Rabson said. For some reason, I get the testicles.

Tendai puts the meat directly on the fire to cook. My eyes are like drippy faucets from all the smoke. It seems that the old man likes me. He gives me a long speech about bride price. I don't understand a word of it, of course, and Rabson occasionally translates but his heart isn't in it. He's probably thinking about the goat whose name Giveness tells me is George.

The goat's the best I've ever had, charcoal all. I slog down another beer, trickle more tears into my plate and I'm ready for bed. It's dark in the cooking hut all the time, but on rainy nights with no moon and smoke so thick it's chewy, it's darker still. There's no light except for the fire, which partially explains my next move.

Tendai suddenly reaches over and puts something on my plate. I can vaguely make out that it's the testicles. I look to the old man who's smiling an honest smile, like this isn't a joke but an honor. What the hell? I grab the testicles and take a bite. Everyone in the room starts into a howl. Even Granny who I haven't heard peep one from all day.

I'd unknowingly bitten into the hairy sack that holds the testicles, which in this case is like gnawing on burnt hairy leather. Or, something akin to eating a Big Mac with the wrapper on.

Tendai politely cuts the sack away and exposes the mush inside. I'm ballin like a newborn from the smog, and I can't see a thing. I'm already stuffed, well past tipsy, people are talking all around me in a language I don't get, and I'm feeling a long way from home.

And believe me when I say the last thing I want at this moment is to chow down on George's testicles. Nonetheless, they all stare at me, waiting to see what I'll do. So I take one testicle firmly in hand, hold my breath, raise it to my mouth and bite down hard, intending to chomp it in half, but I can't do it or I've lost the will to chew, so I swallow the thing whole. As if to share my pain, or my proud moment depending on how you look at it, the old man grabs the other testicle off my plate and does the same.

Tendai's face glows. Rabson winks at me. Granny and the kids are in the dark somewhere chortling. And the old man grabs my hand and won't let go. I mop the tears from my face with my shirt. I feel like one of the family.