“I Had A Hero” by Mike Tidwell (Zaire)
IN ONE HAND HE CARRIED a spear, in the other a crude machete. On his head was a kind of coonskin cap with a bushy tail hanging down in back. Around his neck was a string supporting a leather charm to ward off bad bush spirits. Two underfed mongrel dogs circled his bare feet, panting. “My name is Ilunga,” he said, extending his hand. “My name is Michael,” I said, shaking it. We smiled at each other another moment before Ilunga got around to telling me he had heard my job was to teach people how to raise fish. It sounded like something worth trying, he said, and he wondered if I would come by his village to help him look for a pond site. I said I would and took down directions to his house. The next day the two of us set off into the bush, hunting . . .
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One of the gifts of serving in the Peace Corps (though at the time we seldom thought of it as…