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Uganda-born—should have known better than to visit a country where they might easily fall afoul of the law. The cynic in Bella wonders ifunconsciously Valerie was trying to steal Aar’s thunder by any means possible. He has been dead less than a week, after all.
    And then she thinks, enough of Valerie, at least until she learns more about her situation from Gunilla. It is time she thought about other topics of greater personal relevance. Her niece and nephew are far more important than a foolish woman who gets herself locked up in a Ugandan jail.
    At last she lowers her seat into a narrow bed and, turning and tossing in the confined space, wills herself to sleep.
    â€”
    She wakes when the service trolley rolls over the blanket that has been half covering her feet. She opens her eyes and stares at the flight attendant, waiting for the woman to apologize.
    But the stewardess only says, “Breakfast?”
    â€œHow much more time until we land?” asks Bella.
    â€œTwo hours and a bit.”
    Bella orders water, juice, and coffee. When she gets back from the bathroom, she notices that the woman across the aisle is filling in the form for immigration into Kenya. She presses the call button above her seat and asks for a form for herself.
    Bella has always found Kenya’s entry form to be ill designed and clumsy. It never gives the traveler the needed space to write the answers. In addition, Kenya has lately been a problem country for Somalis, who are harassed from the moment they present their papers to the immigration officials and are asked relentlessly embarrassing questions. She fills in the form with trepidation, holding her pencil in midair as she frets over the best answers to give for “reason for visit” and “length of stay.” She can’t afford to be in a nervous state when she presents her documents and is questioned about them. She hopes that herItalian passport, which boasts multiple entries into and exits out of numerous countries, will help allay anyone’s worries that she may overstay her welcome in Kenya. Even so, her best option is to state that she is a photographer in the country as a tourist. Then the officer is bound to say, “Welcome, madam,” and stamp her in.
    The pilot announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent,” and all of a sudden the sky, which has been clear, turns leaden and gray, and clouds envelop the plane like curtains being drawn. It begins to rain heavily, each drop, which are as big as one of Bella’s tears, splattering against the windows. What feels like a tropical storm is raging around them, as though the very heavens were angry. Outside the windows, lightning flashes as the plane careens down through the storm. The darkness becomes more intense and there is a loud banging, as if the wings were coming off the plane, and Bella can see nothing except the occasional flash of lightning and the endless gray clouds until suddenly the plane veers left, as if avoiding an oncoming object, then descends again with a lurch, and suddenly the clouds part and the ground is visible below them, very close.
    The pilot lands safely despite the weather and taxis to a stop far from the terminal. He counsels calm, urging the passengers to remain seated, but he allows them to use their mobile phones as they wait for assistance.
    â€”
    There is nothing like sharing a near-death experience to bring people closer, even briefly. And later, when they’ve all gone their separate ways, they’ll tell the same stories about it—the story of how the woman with the varicolored hair went berserk, or how another passenger threw off her seatbelt and bounced up and down like a dervish, madly reciting all the while what Bella took to be a Hindu prayer, or how a third wasscared so witless that his eyes grew to the size of golf balls, the pupils dilated, and his Adam’s apple went up and down as if he might be choking on his