Then I remembered that in the past few days I myself had bought thousands of bricks for the new parish centre. A hundred years ago the village of Iquitos on the banks of the Amazon became famous for its rubber. Now it is a noisy, polluted city of more than 300,000 people. As the town spreads into the surrounding forest, institutions follow. As parish priest I cannot provide the religious, cultural and educational services for young and old without buildings.
Many people live in wooden huts with straw roofs.
I have my own bungalow on the edge of the town, of noble material. It stands on a large plot, half of which is monte. This doesn't mean mountain here, but untamed woodland or scrub. My neighbours advise me to clean it out and fill in the swamp. The only animals I kill are the occasional rat, cockroaches and malaria-carrying mosquitoes.