Nairobi, nineteen eighty three.
The first day and the first question:
Are you married? And why not?
And the first gift
A mango

The warm blush of it
Given by a man in a market stall
To welcome me,
The delicate curve of it
Coming to a shy point,
And later the taste
All juicy strangeness and intensity wrapped
Around a long hard stone,

And then those stringy fibres
In my teeth
For days.