Letters From Abroad
Just before dusk, the people of San Carlos disappeared into their houses and pulled the curtains shut, as if an air raid siren had gone off at a frequency I couldn’t hear. Then, as the sun sunk over the lake, the chayules came. Tiny green gnats, flying in thick clouds, crowding my eyes, my nose, my throat. I tried to cover my face, but they darted through my fingers and into my mouth and ears. The occasional car, sliding by like a ghost in the gloaming, would illuminate hundreds of thousands of insects in their headlights. Because the chayules are attracted to white light, all the light bulbs in San Carlos are dark red, giving the empty city a hellish scarlet glow.
Back in my Jerusalem apartment, listening to Drummers of the Nile Go South: Nubian Travels, what I wanted most was to go back in time and have this incredible album accompany me on my long bus journey to and from Egypt. It would have been a good companion for my trip and a good substitute for Busta Rhymes.