“It was quite an experience, handling someone elses feet. Seeing as how my ‘patient’ was a King, didn’t make it any better. Prior to meeting the King of the Burundi, I had some things explained to me on proper etiquette in the royal household. First, NEVER, EVER, say your here to ‘change the Borundi’, or anything remotely like it. When the initial party from the Belgian government said something along these lines they were shown a large wicker basket, filled with dried penises and scrotums. The dignitaries were informed that this is what happens to those who try to change the Burundi. I kept it in mind as we walked the mats to the King’s chamber. Oh, the mats. The King is not allowed to touch bare dirt. Elaborate woven mats connect all the various buildings in the royal compound. The buildings were made of mud, covered with a type of clay rubbed smooth. People swept constantly it seemed…Fortunately, a young man who was supposed to be my assistant, had some medical history behind him, so I felt a bit more confident I could play out my part. The King’s chamber was one large room. A high ceiling with an aperture to let out smoke was the only opening. The windows were made of animal membranes stretched over narrow, tall slits in the walls to let in light. There were entrances leading to other rooms, but I never saw the interiors. I always came and went using the same pathway. The King was not a pleasant man. His face showed he was an absolute ruler. As I gave a low bow, he nodded at me while the translators did their jobs, then put out his right foot, wrapped in scented cloths for me to inspect. Oh my, I almost fainted. From first glance, I saw his problem immediately. In grown toes nails had been neglected. It looked like someone had tried to rectify the problem and only exasperated it. The toes were badly infected. To brighten my mood, the translator informs me the last ‘Doctors’, skeleton was still hanging on a post somewhere near by. I pointed to his left foot. He let me inspect it, but gave me a look that said, “Don’t even think about hurting me!” His toes were fine on this foot, but the skin was stretched to almost breaking from swelling. I attributed this to his weight. I lightly rewrapped them and gave a reassuring smile to the King, while telling the interpreter I would make a decision on his treatment and return later. The King shook his head no. I’m informed by the translator after the King spoke to him, that I am now a guest. I’m taken to a small chamber off the wives’ quarters. My attendant is not allowed. Females only. Many of the King’s wives were giving me freightening looks as they went past my open doorway. A younger one, a bit friendlier, asks me in broken English if I am a virgin. I shook my head no. She then beamed and ran off. It turned out, the King only married virgin brides. Now the wives treated me a lot better. Over the next few nights, with the real doctor doing the work, disinfectants and clean wraps, did wonders. Some basic petroleum jelly helped the swollen skin. It was from the Kings weight that most of his problems arose. He had to have been 500 pounds. Plus, he never exercised one bit. He was carried where ever he went. Oh, we had to wait until the King was passed out from drinking this potent native brew, before we could treat him. A suggestion by the young wife I had met earlier. Alas, she was killed later on the King’s order for some reason we weren’t privy too…Now in the good graces of the King, we got down to the business we traveled so far for. Secure a large tract of land, build a compound for the Belgian government, then, purchase ten African elephants of various ages to begin their grand experiment. Teach African elephants to do the same work their cousins the Asian elephants had been doing for thousands of years. Some one high up in the Belgian ruling family thought it could be done, thus, enabling the beasts to drag the large hardwood trees out of the thick, impenetrable jungle. It would save transporting fuel, equipment and vehicles. A rail line was also planned to ship the new lumber source. I wondered why I had never been informed of such a grand project. It seems that until I became the King’s nurse, no one trusted me to stay on past the translating stage. Funny. I never said one word to the King. You could only speak to him if he spoke to you and he never uttered one word to me. Only by his translators. Thus began almost five years of my life spent on elephants. It was facinating and sometimes rewardiing. On the bad side? Everyone started dying…