there is a phrasing in Oshiwambo that states:
Owuhenda nandjila iha tandilwa amu lalo—
a traveller can’t be denied a home

I am five hundred thousand miles away from home,
once in a village I am given water to mix with my blood
once in another, three children are cooking imaginary stew
to be eaten with sand
I once arrive at a city of 21st century diplomacy
where my evening is full of halves
where Amichai told me, half people in the world hate
the other half love
and that Gaza is now debris because her bricks were made of sputum and hate
that Berlin wall was an erection of vex and arrogation
that in 1886, the word hate came into the African dictionary

the word Ubuntu is the nuanced capital of human heart
when we come to it, we must hesitate
whether by water or wind we must define it with kindness
before we waste into worms

so when mother wants to define it,
she starts with a plate of primroses
by the seaside sharing their bodies and water
I imagine mother now on the bamboo bench
baying and belching about sociology of being
her words, breaking with the wind