They're small, somewhat dull and wrinkled even on the surface. Two always belong together, growing together in one fruit: the coffee beans. They lie lightly in my hand. My memories wander far back. In 1988, I spent a year in Tanzania—a lifetime ago. On a small island in Lake Victoria, in the west of the country, I was given coffee beans as a guest by an old woman. Two or three of them were too few for a coffee. So what was the point? My hostess explained to me, sitting on the hay-covered floor of the mud hut, that coffee beans symbolize friendship and welcome. I was grateful for the warmth she expressed so unreservedly to me, a stranger in the country. "Mwenyeji" means to belong, no matter where I come from or where I go, the bond grows and endures. Since then, some of the coffee bean halves have been kept in a special box on the shelf, clearly visible, as a keepsake. I've given two away to very special people in my life...
