Jimmy Ferrer
speaker
3,222 appearances
8 recordings
1 series
first heard May 2026
last heard 14 Sep
Jimmy Ferrer’s voice in public audio — every appearance, attributed to the second.
Trend
recordings per month · last 12 monthsRecordings per month over the last 12 months — 8 in all, peaking in Sep 2026 with 2.
Appearances
I was badly dehydrated by then, and I prayed to my own gods that I might find water here.
And as I crossed the line into their town, I saw the well.
The wellhead was ornate and tall, perfectly chunky stones that looked like they came from an English garden, arranged in a solid circle supporting a wooden cap like a roof, a bucket hung from a pulley system, and I felt myself pulled towards it, like it had cast out invisible fingers and grabbed me by the tongue and was reeling me in.
And before I knew it, my hands were upon the stone structure, and I was peering down into the well.
cool air puffed up at me like the breath of the nighttime desert already my hand had fallen upon the wooden crank that let down the bucket into the well when a man yelled at me his voice was sharp and although the language was native
I did not need to speak it to understand his meaning.
I jumped away from the well, more out of surprise than a desire to obey his command.
The dehydration was a pounding drum in my head, sizzling symbols down all my nerves.
My blood was thick and hot, and I could feel it pulsing behind my eyeballs.
I would have drawn water no matter whose well it was, no matter the cost.
And then the villagers' hands were upon me, pulling me away, dragging me through the dry dirt.
I tried to speak with them, but my tongue cleaved to the top of my mouth.
They pulled me into one of the ramshackle huts and put me gently on the floor, but three of their men held me down.
Their faces hovered over me, the men holding me and the rest of the villagers, mostly old men and women, the youngest of them still older than me.
The oldest of the women said a few words in their native language.
At her command, a younger woman disappeared into the rear of the house.
Nobody spoke for a few seconds and I heard the sweet sound of water splashing and dripping.
The villager returned with a small dirty cup and squatted beside where I was being held down.
She held the cup to my lips and the old woman nodded her head emphatically, repeating one native word, either drink or water.
I glanced into the cup and what was in there could hardly be called water I thought but my thirst was too great and my tongue sought out the wet and it washed over my teeth and down my throat and the cup was tipped back until it was dry.
Showing 1201–1220 of 3,222 · page 61 of 162
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