invited, don’t hesitate –

children pull us into their homes,

small dark spaces between metal sheet walls,

geographical confines of laundry lines

linens and sheets hung up to separate rooms.

mud floors under simple woven mats spread

with a few blankets and pillows

(remember to take off your shoes)

i hesitate –

stepping into someone’s makeshift home

invited? uncertain.

that feeling is fleeting –

because every single time people smile,

wave us to sit down, move to sit on

the dirt and insist that we sit on their mats

they wait for government rations of food –

but do not think twice before immediately

pulling out coffee and starting the ceremony

(to serve their guests)

and how is it, how is it that i hesitated

the other day to give change to a homeless woman

telling myself, there are too many, i don’t have change

for them all and i –

every single time, they open their homes

their arms, their hearts to strangers

and this time? this time, cassie and i

sit with three women and their children

we hold babies and they breastfeed while

laughing and smiling and chatting

as we exchange oromo and english words

they speak to us is if we’re old friends

(as if we understand)

the smell of lavender smoke fills the room, they

reach for their precious allotment of coffee beans,

the baby pees on me.

backlit in the orange ember glow

they teach us how to roast the beans

over burning coal

we take turns grinding them in a

while the children hang on us and we

stumble to repeat the oromo words and songs

they try to teach us while they work

and as we wait for the coffee, the women bring a plate of food

injera, carrots, potatoes, traditional

i sit on a mat in the dim lighting,

pant leg soaked with urine

and they pour some water over our hands

encourage us to eat as we all reach in to scoop

up handfuls with our fingers

one of the women mushes it together in her right hand

and reaches out to feed me.

it’s a sign of respect, it’s a sign of friendship & love

she puts the food in my mouth and proceeds to feed

cassie, her children, other women, herself, and me

(again & again & again)

i see the saliva, i see the snot running down the boy’s nose

that touched her fingers and she mushes up more food and

puts it to my mouth again –

and i eat.

(i know how disease spread and – )

when the plate is finished

they pour us coffee in chipped tea cups and

i think how it started raining

i wanted to put my rain jacket on nasima

but i hesitated, there were so many children

how do you pick one so i – i –

in that moment we aren’t somali muslim refugees

and american christian missionaries –

we are just (wo)men,

human beings knit together

bones and blood and

together, sharing a meal

just people.

(and no one cares, that’s what our host says

no one cares about these people, they are

f o r g o t t e n )

but here, in this moment, we see each other

and we don’t need to speak the same language

to understand one another

(this is the human experience)

i am humbled to spend time with them

in their presence, learning what it looks like

not to hesitate

they give everything when they have nothing

whole hearted smiles brimming with generosity and

kindness and i – and i – hesitate

give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one

who wants to borrow from you

// matthew 5:42

truly i tell you, He said, this poor widow has put more than

all the others – all these people gave their gifts out

of wealth but she out of her poverty, put in all

she had to live o n

//luke 21: 3 – 4

every day we are invited

opportunities to love to give to serve

and the thing is

i don’t want to hesitate.