Kazi is cooking again, and I’m not just his helper. We cook together, Kazi and I, in this little kitchen. He went to the market with Amil as soon as he felt well enough and brought back ingredients for sai bhaji, the dish that will always remind me of home. We lined up the spinach, tomatoes, onions, chilies, and other ingredients on the table. Then I got the mortar and pestle I had been keeping in my bag by my bedroll. I hadn’t wanted to look at it since we got here. It was too sad. I had been wrapping our spices in a thin towel and crushing them with a rock.
