Arrival

A poem I wrote on the airplane:
Wedged within the crevice of a fast fluorescent pipe,
I wait for landing gears to grow and make this vessel ripe.

My sense of time has has atrophied into a ticking mush
I long for longitudes from where this aeroplane does rush.

But though the clock is different where this plane is bound to go,
a sun now shines on Africa that's same as that I know.


This is the portion of the house where we are staying.

This is corn being grown in the yard.

Here is the whole Nasuuti family house where we are staying.

This is the view from the front porch.