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‘You must be joking,’ I said, terrified.

‘No, I’m not joking. Everyone around here gets it once in a while, and it’s not particularly dangerous. Let’s take care of it now.’

I was first. Tico sat me down on the sandy riverbank near the canoe. He and his cheerful brother, Lulo, both lit cigarettes and began blowing smoke right onto the boil-like swelling. It felt peculiar, like something really was moving around inside.

‘The nicotine draws them out,’ Tico explained. ‘In just a minute you’ll see.’

Kevin and Lulo clenched my head, and Tico squeezed the boil between his thumbs. I bit my lip against the pain. Tico squeezed harder and . . . plop, the worm popped out of my forehead. Kevin looked disgusted. One more squeeze, and I, too, could see the worm, resting in the palm of Tico’s hand. It was fat and white with a few black spots, and it was still alive.

Kevin was next, but he was tougher than I had been, and no one had to hold him. They again exhaled smoke onto the boil, and Tico commenced pushing and squeezing. The worm that wriggled slowly out of Kevin’s neck was even larger than the one that had come out of me. It was a repulsive sight, like a long, white strip of fat. The thought that live worms had been eating away at us . . .

A few weeks later a dozen more worms were