Under African Skies
“I have malaria. Time to go. In a dark, makeshift bar on a dirt street covered in three inches of brown water I shake hands with a pilot, give him $50.00, and hitch a ride back to Nairobi. On the plane I’m sick. He laughs. We swing out over the Indian Ocean. The night cloudless. We fly low along the coast in the full glow of the malaria moon.”
