He had a big stroke about 3 years ago, and came home to die, but didn't. His daughter cares for him at home. He can't walk and can't talk, but looks quite healthy otherwise. Mostly he sleeps, on a bamboo mat on the floor.
Mostly he looked lost in the fog, but every once in a while I would catch a glimpse of focused concentration, or a slight smile of something remembered, perhaps.
The village is an interesting place. I would guess there are about 200 people who live there, which means everyone knows everyone. I am known by association to Malida, who is known as the daughter of her father, who was very well liked, and would likely be one of the village elders now had he not died young.