Across Continents

Standard

I drive down your crowded streets
20 people in a taxi meant for 14
bright pink stucco
painted to complement
a cell phone logo
in between:
corrugated tin shacks,
dried mud huts,
small brick sheds—
different places you call home
rubbish fills your three foot gutters
I watch people grill bananas
over gas stoves on the street
prepared bananas piled high
on a bed of peels
right there on the concrete
I walk through a maze of shades and shapes
but all of them unique from me
and they call out “muzungo”
like a magic charm or a witches curse
I’m not sure which
like they somehow believe
that I hold all the
answers
money
resources
I think such naiveté
must surpass my own
in this complex puzzle
I sit in the sun
watch a young girl twirl and bounce
to the steady rhythm of the blaring bass,
glance over and catch my brother and his wife
sweetly loving each other
across continents, cultures and colors
and think
I may never understand this place
but there is a beauty here
waiting to be appreciated

 

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