Roy Jacobstein

Everywhere the faces, hair, limbs
      are coal, obsidian, flawless black 
            sapphire, thus the rare mzungu*

like me stands out the way those
      remaining white moths once did 
            on industrialized London's trees.

A month fluttering The Warm Heart
      of Africa's long length on this Needs
            Assessment. We've found the needs 

many. But let us not talk of that, 
      as the people do not. Focus instead 
            on the vivid oleander & limpid sky

that domes the arid volcanic hills, 
      its lapis mirrored in the uniforms
            of the file of schoolgirls who stride 

the side of the road. And when the talk, 
      matter-of-fact, beyond resigned, bears 
            left at the roundabout, glances upon 

a cousin's funeral attended yesterday, 
      the two added children your colleague 
            from Lilongwe is now raising alone,  

funeral venues for this weekend, just 
      sit there as the Project Vehicle propels 
            you onward to the next Site, past 

the lone ads for toothpaste 
      & for study opportunity abroad, 
            & the many for caskets ("lightweight,

can be carried by one"), & say nothing.   
  

*Swahili for white person, literally "to travel around"


Copyright © Roy Jacobstein All rights reserved

Prairie Schooner, Fall 2005
Glenna Luschei Prairie Schooner Award, 2006
First Prize, Society for Humanistic Anthropology
   Poetry Competition, American Anthropology Assn., 2006