Free The Best American Travel Writing 2011 by Sloane Crosley Page A

really thought it would help, he just crouched down and pantomimed painting the cart with quick sidelong strokes, and smiled.
    He told me that the paint would cost 95 córdobas (about $5), but that he had only 40. He showed me the 40 córdobas. He was asking me for a loan. I told him that I had very little money. He said that if I gave him the money, he would bring me coconut milk every day until he had given me an amount of equal value. So I gave him 50 córdobas and told him I was looking forward to seeing the freshly painted cart.
    The next morning the coconut salesman did not show up, and once evening came, nobody had seen him all day. I just figured that I had lost about $2.50, and that I could learn some sort of lesson from it.
    The following day, when the coconut salesman saw me, he immediately grabbed a coconut, hacked the top off, stuck a straw inside, and handed it to me. I drank the milk and asked him why his cart was the same sorry green it was before. He told me that on the day I gave him the loan, a pickpocket stole all his money. I decided that whatever happened, the coconut salesman was making good on the deal we'd made.
    The next morning the coconut salesman came again, gave me my coconut, and told me he had a problem. I drank my coconut milk and told him I wasn't surprised. He told me that one of his sons wanted a Bible but that he didn't have the money. I told him that the managers of the hotel were Evangelical Christians and might be happy to give him one. He asked me if I would go in for him. I said sure, and went in and got him a Bible.
    The next day the coconut salesman told me he had another problem. I told him I wasn't surprised. He told me that his son was very happy with the Bible, but now his other son wanted one, too. He wanted me to go into the hotel and get a second Bible. I said: "I'm pretty sure there's a passage somewhere in the Bible about the concept of sharing. Maybe they could read that together." The coconut salesman listened to me, then went inside the hotel himself and got another Bible.
    About a week after that I noticed that the coconut salesman had placed a coconut on top of his cart as a way of advertising his product, and was selling his coconut milk in a much more energetic manner than usual. A couple of hours later, he was still there, and I asked him if his newfound promotional zeal had made him any money. He reached in his pocket and took out 60 córdobas. I encouraged him to continue with this kind of advertising and promotion. He told me that since he now had 60 córdobas, he only needed 35 to buy the paint for his cart. Could he borrow it from me, since he was now so close to his goal? I told him I would think about it. In early sobriety, and especially in Nicaragua, hasty decisions are rarely advisable. And so I went inside the hotel to take a nap.

Venance Lafrance Is Not Dead
Mischa Berlinski
FROM
Men's Journal
    A COUPLE OF WEEKS after the earthquake, the werewolves came down from the hills.
    "It's serious!" one man said.
    He was talking about the loup-garou, a distant cousin of the werewolf. In Haitian lore the loup-garou was a kind of sorcerer who had learned to transform himself into an animal—a cat, a goat, or even a cow. Thus disguised, the loup-garou went out into the night to feast on the blood of small children. Two or three days after such a visitation, children would sicken and die. Now, with so many people in Port-au-Prince sleeping in the open air, the loups-garous were believed to present an exceptional danger.
    He told me that not here but farther up on the mountain the werewolves had already killed a number of small children. This was the way the loup-garou story always went—not here, but not far away, the loups-garous were prowling. Another man told me that a
brigade vigilance
was formed to keep an eye out. Our baby's nanny later said that the police in her neighborhood had instituted a policy of zero tolerance for looters and