As we drove I noticed a canopy of banana leaves, tunnel-like, enveloping the van. The moon light illuminated the way. We drove through this forest of banana trees - their trunks and stalks like strong, thin Africans, and the leaves like the poised and delicate hands of young African dancers. The darkness in-between the trees like phantom elephants, quite as mice, the giantess unseen. I turned to Charles and with my usual wide-eyed wonder asked him, "Would I be safe walking through this jungle, this forest of banana trees?" Charles replied, "No, Not so safe. No." But the question came out of the fantasy of moving through, in and out, of the maze of trees in the darkness, alone. I am Alice. This is my new wonderland. And I have "muchness." I am stirred by the night, and am seeking my way, "home" as usual. In my minds eye I stop and stand looking at the trees and up at the night sky. They are directional signals. I think of Scarecrow holding one arm pointing "that way", the other arm pointing "this way". Spinning and turning, arms akimbo, I fall down and land on the space I'll call home. I wonder why nothing is familiar and yet everything is known.
The Banana Tree passage-way toward Harriet's home seems long - I don't want to exit the dark. I don't want the ride to end. But we exit "Mars" and arrive at Harriet's doorstep. She races to the doorway and yells out, "Linderko nyigire" (crudely translated means, "Wait till I get in"). We wait. She stands in what seems like stillness, but all know she digs frantically for her keys so as not keep us waiting very long. She finally enters. No light. Nothing moving. Seconds of darkness. Then light appears and a curtain is lifted. Moses continues on to get us all home. Again, we pass the leaves that are like hands, picking us up and carrying us past the trees where I lived an adventure moments earlier. The trees bow in obeisance as we drive away. I close my eyes tight and promise to remember this moment, and I will. I do. I will remember.
