As it ended, Gus continued praying on his own—a prayer that apparently no one else recognized, for none of the others joined in. As he spoke, I saw him draw a cold blue object—a knife—from a sheath on his belt. He held it clenched in one trembling hand, then plunged its blade deep into his left palm. Drawing it free, he held it in the hand that now dripped with blood and repeated the process—stabbing his right hand so hard that several centimeters of the blade protruded from the back of it.