Mosquito Nets Are From Heaven

Down to the lake with Solomon

Before we meet I have a cup of coffee
A luxury I brought from home
For mornings when there is time to brew it.

Solomon’s smile takes half his face
Very eager and proud to give me a tour
Little does he know, today he must be a good listener

We ride on bikes half way to the lake
Then walk the last half.

This isn’t a bad walk for me. In New York we walk everywhere, I walk for hours sometimes, just for fun. It isn’t as pretty as this. There aren’t fields or trees like here – only lots of cars and huge buildings. They go straight up on both sides, so you can only see straight ahead, and there are shadows all the time. See that tree? The buildings are like twenty of those stacked on top of each other. So tall. They block out most of the sky. They can be beautiful, but they make me feel like I don’t matter. I don’t know if I like them or not. The birds here are so great! Our birds are gray mostly, not bright colors like here. Also there aren’t any farms in New York City. We definitely don’t have cows. Your family, do they grow their own vegetables? I planted some herbs in my back yard before I left, and my roommate is taking care of them while I’m here. He loves to garden, and he’s great at it, but we have mostly flowers. We have to buy our vegetables. I think they come from New Jersey.

Poor Solomon. He smiles anyway.

The biggest lake in Africa — For a moment I think I see Uganda
When I was four years old I claimed I could see England from Atlantic City.

At Hippo Point the hippos hide until sunset.
Instead I see silhouettes of naked men bathing.
A tree is older than the moon
I remember where I am.

Another scene in a movie

Solomon tells his story:
Two hours away, his mother watches his siblings – 23, 18, 11, twins are now10;
One older brother, at 26, was killed one year ago (You can’t control nature, he smiles)
He stopped school then
To get a job, to earn money,

He needs:
Two more years and $7,000
To become an electrical engineer
I silently consider my own student loans, wondering
Why some dreams cost more than others
And why I am blessed to have mine so easily

The discussion wanders
Why do Americans hate George Bush?
How long are you staying for?
Do you like the food here?

We stop for soda on the way home
Walk through a forest of mansions owned by Asian businessmen

The sunburn on my neck will ache by tomorrow.

My day at the rural health clinic

We left at 9 am, stopped in town for gas and water
Picked up Elizabeth

At 10am I saw the biggest landscape of my life

Look, you see there – that tabletop is the plateau.
There are the Pineapples. Yes, Plantations. And tea.
Come, this is Oyugis. We can go to a “five star restaurant”

We had chapaties with tea at 11:30 am

Rosey, you go to Church? Oh, you are Judaism.
You’re mother and father, both Jews too?
In Pentacost, we believe in the Holy Spirit…

At 12:30 pm we arrived at the Bware clinic, on the border of Tanzania

Girls in navy blue dresses and white collars
Walk home for lunch
Like ants, against the widest Mother Nature I’ve met

I was a stranger
More intrusive and intriguing
With a Panasonic digital video camera
The girls stared — Hysterical when I showed them the footage

I arrived to the meeting
Twenty women sang to me.
In Swahili. It means:
They love you they love you Rosey Rosey they love you
I love you I love you Rosey Rosey I love you
I have it all on tape.

Our discussion began
On midwifery, microfinance, contraception
How can they get more latex gloves?
They are running out of vitamins…
Between topics, more songs

Meanwhile
I was bewitched by the backdrop of uncontrolled green;
Blue ants with white collars on a tabletop plateau.
By Mother Nature and the mothers singing to me.
An infant I filmed reminded me
The safest place in the world is in Mother’s arms.

It rained by 4pm
Camera away
Road turned to mud
We bought bananas for the ride home.

May 27th

Walking to work this morning

I was confident enough
To take photographs
Of the dirt roads I walked on
A flower that intrigued me
The pregnant cat by our gate

There were other pedestrians
Cars were very rare
Some people rode bicycles
One girl in her uniform – I see her every morning
Called the Swahili word for White
And waved to me

Under my sandals, the ground was uneven
Studded with rocks
Stones
Patches of Pavement resembled Ancient Roman Ruins
Artifacts, maybe, of smoother times

Every morning
I stumble at least twice on my way to work (which is uphill)
And at least once on my way back (downhill is easier)

But
Today my footwear had a mutiny
No longer would they be worked so hard
They were exhausted, enraged, and fairly so
Had I been forced into such strenuous labor, in such foreign conditions
I might strike too.

Sadly for me
The right sole gave.
Came unglued, Lost its mind
Leaving the leather insole strapped to my foot
Which, in turn, felt the sharp swells and craters of road.

I arrived to the office, sandal in hand
It was rushed to a cobbler
I sat at my desk for one hour
With a naked right foot

Will you teach me how to swim? She begged
I wore my new brown skirt to St. Joseph’s Church today

The body and blood of Kisumu, one holy Eucharist communion
Will you teach me how to swim? She begged

To walk in the markets – Ironic loneliness of a crowded café
The body and blood of Kisumu, one holy Eucharist communion

She recognized me on the bus ride home.
To walk in the markets – Ironic loneliness of a crowded café

Smoke is in love with the air this afternoon.
She recognized me on the bus ride home.

I wore my new brown skirt to St. Joseph’s Church today
Smoke is in love with the air this afternoon.

My day in Kisumu with my friend Carla

I waited by the gate at 10:15 a.m.
A young woman asked me if I spoke Swahili.
Sorry, I said.
So she asked for a job in English.

Kisumu is closer to the sun than New York.

In the market:
For 800 shillings I bought 2 skirts
For 550 shillings I bought 10 international stamps
For 10 shillings I bought an avocado

It’s hot, you know? Are you tired of walking?
Come, my brother works here. Isaac! Are you there?
Everyone is surprised that you are called Rose
That is a Kenyan name, you know.

To get to her house for lunch is to travel through time.

For 500 shillings, you can rent a house made of mud for one month.
I calculate this:
About nine stamps
Or fifty avocados

Children have shaved heads.
Little girls wear old church dresses
Little boys terrorize the goats
Every other man has a bicycle,
Every other woman has an infant

It is a movie set, almost.

Children yell:
– HOW ARE YOU!
I say:
– FINE, HOW ARE YOU?
They scream:
– I AM FINE!!!!!
I almost trip over a rooster, into a vegetable stand
Carla grabs my arm

Carla’s family has a beautiful home
Her sister loves Celine Dion music videos
I learn about Violence, Marriage, Jesus, How to eat scrambled eggs with my hands
A one-year-old boy soothes an awkward silence, but he doesn’t trust me until it rains.

Three hundred Stalks of Corn grow from her chest
Painful as the sun in your eyes
Mosquito netting pours four walls
The windows have blue trim to match the door

Children, in uniforms
Watch your birds that peck and fly
They shame the color of skyscrapers

It feels silent for the first time in my life
A Kiswahili love song?

Consider human beings, she thinks.
Her laptop sings a mix of American music
Her mind pours into a basin
Her mouth stays closed.