Two Frogs
For Sayeed
Jama
By Abdi
Ali
(posted Tuesday, July
23; to be composted Tuesday, July 30)
The first floor apartment
was home; Mr. Sargunam, uncle.
Mrs. Sargunam taught
English at the 11 th standard, some teaching
At college, and private
lessons to foreigners--you, I and others.
Mona, Huda and you stayed
with her; I may have for a week or two
Before the Aruldhases were
found, and for about a year Mum sent
Money and six umbrellas
(at one time!) through her. Seriously,
Vocation began here--the
story of two frogs,
One from Osaka, the other
Kyoto, eyes on the back
Of their heads. "From two
cities, two frogs ...," proper,
Lady Mrs. Sargunam,
alternately coughing--
Mannered, easing her
lemon-wedged specs to her nose,
"Set to visit the other's
city." Their visit is short
On a fictional hill
between the two cities. Befuddled,
The cities are alike, they
turn, return home.
I learned the story by
heart, also by heart Mrs. Sargunam,
Scholar-wife, no
homemaker, sitting for dinner café-style.
You left, enrolled in a
Catholic school in the hills. Aruldhas' daughter,
Beulah, pushed me,
rewriting words forty-fifty times, literally mugging
As we used to say. We met
one last time, Strand Hotel, Bombay;
Quizzing each other--Mona
was untouchable in Indian civics,
My knowledge of anatomy
defended the reputation of Adventist schools,
And you owned with skill
images, permanent stay of faith,
Placed over blackboards in
classrooms. "The Living-God," you said,
Making plain a mystery,
"is three-flavor ice-cream: strawberry, chocolate and vanilla."
(Plain-mystery by which
your son is now named
After the vegetarian
dream-consultant to Nebuchadnezzar.)
Frog-fate, or no
frog-fate, swear I see at times one
In these cities Kampala,
Mogadishu, Jeddah, Nairobi, Boston.
I think in your den in
Oslo, surrounded by sheiks requested by your mother,
You see the only one city,
Lamb-lamp lit.
