Rachel Pieh Jones on the poet who taught Somalis how to love: “Some say Elmi was an idiot, weak. Some say he was a genius, the ideal lover. To me, it doesn’t matter which he was. What matters is the question his story raises.”
Now I stand on a wooden dock under a thatched roof and watch twenty Russians in white robes wade into the waist-deep Jordan. Some swallow large gulps of the brown, muddy water. Others fill plastic bottles of the sacred swill.