Find Phileas

Chapter 4

The cacti of Northern Mexico

"Phileas reached towards the spiky plant, his saddle and legs sliding sideways, his mule straining and staggering. When he finally pulled himself upright, his hand covered in thorns, laughter broke out amongst Juan and the guides. Even his trusty mule seemed to snigger. He drew the lime to his nose, took a deep breath then dropped it in his saddlebag. Its aroma was like no other, its tart sweetness the perfect partner for the poppy seed, both of which he would combine in his classic tortilla, made with pure white maize. When they finally kicked on, Phileas took his reins in one hand and held the other aloft like a pin cushion - his face a contorted mixture of pleasure and pain."

The cacti of Northern Mexico

Within a mile or two Phileas' hand began to swell and ache. Now, rather than holding it proudly in the air, he let it hang by his side in the hope that no one would notice and the breeze would ease the pain. Silently he hoped that the journey to their overnight resting point would be a short one. It wasn't. Juan's idea of a short ride and Phileas' were not even remotely similar. Ignorant of Phileas' discomfort and encouraged by the comical cactus episode, Juan commenced a guided tour of the country's vast array of prickly plants. "There are over 300 species in the Sonoran Desert alone" said Juan. "Over there is the giant Cereus, there is a beautiful Boojum tree and look down to the left, look! There are Sanguaro and some Barrel Cacti."

"Fascinating said Phileas with a false grin full of clenched teeth."

Then with a gasp Juan pointed into the distance and pushed his horse into a gallop. He stopped about 100 metres ahead of the rest of the party, looked down to the ground and laughed heartily. "It is here again Phileas your friend in full bloom!! The pin-cushion cactus, isn't it wonderful!" There were many ways, thought Phileas, to describe the aptly named plant. Wonderful wasn't one of them. However, when Phileas caught up a moment later he could see the reason for Juan's excitement. A cluster of cacti sat together, each in full bloom, a riot of vivid pink and yellow.

The sight of buildings and a church spire on the horizon gladdened Phileas' heart as much as the pin-cushion cacti had gladdened Juan's. The town was famous for silver mining in the colonial Spanish years and spiritual home of the folk-hero revolutionary Pancho Villa. In its dusty main square, overshadowed by the cathedral, Phileas was told about the many good uses the Mexicans had for the cactus. Fish hooks, roofing materials and pot scourers were just a few. Then he was introduced to their most enlightened invention, Tequila. The legendary spirit made from the Agave plant, friendlier cousin of the cactus. Phileas remembered how in the hospitals of early Victorian England, the only anaesthetic patients were offered was alcohol. Now a similar procedure was taking place. Miguel held Phileas' hand on the table whilst Juan, with studied concentration, picked out each thorn with a pair of ancient tweezers. With his free hand, Phileas downed shot after shot of tequila, laid out and replenished by a toothless bartender. With the removal of each thorn, Phileas could hear Juan was repeating two phrases in a near whisper. "Ella me adora. Ella me adora no. Ella me adora. Ella me adora no." She loves me. She loves me not.

Q1: What is the name of the town in which Phileas drinks Tequila?

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