“Hang on, I have to move your bones back in place. This might hurt, Chief, but I’ll be quick.”
“Please, don’t worry. I may be an old man, but I can handle a bit of pain,” replied the village chief through gritted teeth. From the sweat covering his forehead, I could tell how much pain he was in, but I could also tell that he was probably quite the tough guy in his glory days.
After receiving the village chief’s answer, I placed my hand on his dislocated joint, searching for the right spot, and then I pressed down hard. With a pop, the dislocated bone returned to its original position. This was a trick I learned when I used to get into a lot of fights as a little kid. I often came out of a fight with a dislocated arm and a bunch of bruises, and this was how the priest that my aunt and gran
