Entebbe
Lake Victoria, obviously
Lies silver, out of reach
Debates about white guys in the water
There might be crocs, or bugs
Soaring eagles patrol along the beach.
The green amazes all the dryland people
Palms, sculpted banana fans, cactus, verdant
Trees with sinuous roots, crawling like snakes
Across the lawns, entwining one another
Still, humid, and much ado about the mozzies
Close the window, shut out breeze and birdsong,
Let's stew within, hot, unbitten.
Three walls, fences shield access to the beach
Two lovers frolic in the water
While all around workers fuss and factotate
Prepare the bar and snack house
Where no one drinks or eats, the staff vague
on the possibilities for satisfaction
The tea room is empty, huge, soulless
The service surly, perfunctory, plodding
More attentive to the billing than the board.
The African clientele are impolite to their serving cousins
Haughty, scornful, sharp in ways we never could consider
I cringe to be thought, caught, in the answering resentment.
A preacher plows his powerpoints at lunch
On Nineveh, and the sons of Ammon: Who!?!
Occasionally checks against his Word.
Believers in a secular faith troop
About some ernest acronymic confab,
Ebb and flow about the grounds
Brilliant as flora in their flowing robes
Regalia of age, matching headgear
Clothes declaring home, station, status.
In this language of attire, African
In fact, meaning, sense
I am illiterate, insensible:
Katrine tells me the German is, insensitive.
She says, Reverse the English.
Uganda did.