Collapsed in sand I was dying, and mouth was dry. On a dune a striding object silhouetted toward me, look of a man and an animal—a warthog-man. In delirium I felt him drag me. I came into shade and plants at oasis water’s edge, the warthog-man held my head over the water to drink.
The warthog-man brought back life to me in the next days. He fed plants to me, his bird friends fanned me. He did not speak my language. At night he did not sleep, I saw him looking into the desert. One day the warthog-man gave me a camel and provisions. He stared from his oasis at me riding away, back to civilization.
Still Eating Oranges