Mosquito Nets Are From Heaven

In the morning we went to meet
The chief of Nyalenda, the elders
They sat in plastic chairs in the shade
Their suggestion box was a beehive

First, Bea spoke
About home based care, about sickness, about community
Next, Francis – a health worker – answered questions
The elders listened.
I think we have their blessings

It was my last time in the “field”

That night I sat on the kitchen floor
To share a bar of chocolate with my new roommate, who goes
to the district hospital during the day. This week is surgery.

There were two patients:
1) A bloody cancerous tumor was removed from a man’s leg
2) A guy with HIV, and tons of infections, was too week for anesthesia. So the operation was cancelled
What chiefs did my roommate work with?
Hospital elders to settle disputes in the wards.

We are in the three unluckiest weeks of the year –
Until August 10th
Which must be why my anxiety skyrocketed
And I only slept for two hours

It’s a long crowded journey home
Three vans, one bike ride
I’m pressed against a window
There are people arguing about luggage.
One woman has her chickens in a plastic bag

I fall asleep to Swahili bickering, poultry clucking, and Kenyan pop on the radio
Just before I’m gone, I think, “you’re budget traveling alone in Africa. You deserve this.”

I. Putti
In the morning, from the hilltop
You can see to other hills
Just as high, but distant

I was the first one awake
Adina fed me bread, fruit, hard boiled eggs and tea.

We left at 8:00
Drove 25 minutes
To the smallest synagogue I’ve seen:
Walls of mud, Roof of grass
Their torah lives in a blue locked cabinet
Their prayer books are piled on a low table by a window
– The pages every morning with dew
I wondered about an eternal light.
If they had one, would the roof catch fire?
Services began at ten
Women sat on the left. Men on the right

We were treated like royalty in this African congregation
Even asked to speak.
When it was my turn, I said, “In Kisumu there are no synagogues. Only churches.”
I thought of the hill where I stood;
Remembered looking to others just as high, but distant
“So,” I said “Even though I am a visitor to you from far away,
You have given me something that reminds me of home.”

We did Kiddush with Jackfruit and homemade liquor.

II. LaShone Harah
Back on the Hill

Picture chairs in a circle under a tree.
We studied “Lashone Harah”—trash talk.
How do we manage our words so they aren’t harmful?

A man said, “I’ve told a rumor. How do I fix it?”
The advisor took a pillow, and brought the man outside.
He told the man, “Rip it open.”
Down exploded from the cloth.
“Now,” said the advisor “Go collect the feathers.”

III. Havdallah
The sun set at about 7:30
We watched it like a movie

By the third star, the ritual began
The candle
The spices
The wine
Songs from my childhood

Kids scream
SHAVUAH TOV!
And jump on me to save themselves from
Being tagged.
It’s not easy being base

Look up. The stars are unbelievable tonight.

It takes 8 hours
Walk through the slum
The bus is 2 hours late (as usual)
Cross the Ugandan border on foot at Busia
Take a bike ride through the dust
To a van aimed towards Mbale
Corn fields on the left, Sunset on the right.
Finally, a motorcycle to the top of the hill

We sat in the guesthouse
Sang songs for shabbos
Pounded our fists on the table
Passed passion fruits, shared tunes
–Some from Africa, others European
Until it was time to sleep