September 4th, 2023

Hello Friends,

      Secretly, I’ve always wanted to go to Africa. I’ve always felt that Africa is the place where life began and that….just, perhaps, it may prove to be where life can become sustainable once again. But that is politics and economics and this is about kindness.
    I first met Kajakne Karamba around 15 years ago. I had arrived at the store early one Monday morning and a blue van was parked on the side street. It looked like it had been there all night. After I unlocked the store and turn the lights on, there was a knock on the side window.  A very tall, African man had exited the van and wanted to talk to me. I wasn’t quite sure exactly what he had in mind, but I politely asked him to come in, and he kindly asked me if he could use my bathroom. Eventually he proceeded to tell me that he had looked into the windows of my store, and thought that perhaps I could be interested in some of the things that he sells. He explained to me that he lives in Africa for six months of the year and brings things that he buys there, back to New York, and then travels around the country selling his wares to collectors , museums and stores. He told me that, at the moment, he had many djembes (hand carved, wooden drums with a goat skin head), and that I should be interested in them because I could certainly sell them to people. He asked, politely if he could bring them in. Now, for no particular reason, I said, "Yes….of course….bring them in….why not djembes….after all, I’ve got banjos!". This sounded like fun. He started unloading them from his truck and before I knew it, I was knee-deep in djembes and I had made a new friend. Over the next few visits he sold me all kinds of artifacts ….things that had stories surrounding them. He said he traveled to villages in the hinterland of Africa and found museum quality objects that have been made hundreds and hundreds of years ago. I explained to him that I really wanted to find an akonting because it was the African ancestor of the modern banjo. On each visit, he would bring more interesting things, but they were frankly piling up in my store because I was not selling them. He brought me war drums. He brought me log drums. He brought me thumb pianos. He brought me coras. He brought me giant horns….but never an akonting. Over the years, we sold a few things, and he was always ready to replace them with something even more interesting. But what I came to realize was, that I enjoyed this man’s friendship more than anything else. Of the things he told me, I’m sure a good deal was fabricated, or at least enhanced, but it was still fascinating.

    This past weekend he stopped by unannounced. He brought his nephew who is 18 with him. He wanted to show his nephew what America was like, and he started telling me a little bit more about himself. He has a son who attended college in America on a basketball scholarship, obtained a degree but went back to live in Africa. We talked about the difference between ourselves… between Africa and America. He talked about witnessing people being shot on the street…in New York City, but never in Africa. Because he was the real Africa, not what we see on the news. And then we talked about his faith and the faiths of our ancestors. And he said to me, no religion orders someone’s death because of the way they pray, that is not a religion. At that point in the conversation I was mystically taken back in time….yes a thousand years…we were no longer in Rochester, New York. I had traveled in time. I was a crusty Sicilian merchant, and he was the traveling Arab tinker and we were bargaining over goods. It was a dance….he didn’t really need the money and I didn’t need the merchandise but for some reason we needed each other. I spoke to him of Sicily in the Middle Ages, where Jews and Muslims and Christians lived in peace…the only place in Europe to boast of this. He said he had been to Sicily and he loved the people there. He said it was a very accepting place and that the mayor of the city of Palermo had resisted the National government’s demand to refuse and return "boat people".  In fact, the Mayor, Leoluca Orlando, in June 2018, in defiance of orders from the National Italian government, stated that he would allow a ship, bearing over 600 migrants rescued off the coast of Libya, to dock in Palermo.  He stated "Palermo in ancient Greek meant ‘complete port’. We have always welcomed rescue boats and vessels who saved lives at sea. We will not stop now. If you land in Palermo…your are a citizen of Palermo." Anything less was genocide.

 Oh, when my minded finally drifted back to reality, I had a brand new 5 foot long, solid ebony, Massai horn and a great new walking stick, made in Cameroon. As he left with a fist full of dollars, we bowed to each other and promise to do the dance again.

With kindness,

John Bernunzio

It was harvesting/cooking week and this is a picture of a nice dish from the Balkans called Ajvar.

Traditional Sicilian Caponata, with most ingredients from our garden… the last panel is to show that I really cleaned up the entire thing myself as Julie was not home!

Pesto harvest,  yes in ice cube trays.

The absolute best fried eggplant, from our garden…with rice panko, cherry tomatoes, assorted cheeses and purple basil…

We are closed today for Labor Day.