State Hospital Kampala, Uganda draft #3, 01/22/25
This dark building among these dark people
This dark building among these dark people
lining the unlit passageway of the hospital hallway
and these dark wounds the blood thick and cakey.
and these dark wounds the blood thick and cakey.
A man in the shadow hallway lifts his shirt to reveal
a black hole that seems to be too deep for the thickness
of his black body, his white, white teeth
a faint glow, smile-shaped, in the midst of a pain-killer-less state,
I think he might even be smiling
because the docs are all on holiday for the next month.
I think he is laughing. An actual laugh void of sarcasm.
A matter of fact kind of laugh.
I hear most of the docs go to Europe or the Americas
for their vacations leaving behind these slumping bodies.
Esoteric knowledge- a kind of mysticism
flickers above my head the electricity
hanging on by a hangnail in this hospital.
The same thing happened with the woman
who crawled on her belly to greet us in Gulu.
We continued to watch as she dragged her carcass
around her shadowy hut searching for her sewing needle
somewhere on the dirt floor
but no haystack, just this TV-less and phone-less existence and her
hospitality like bright jack fruit and fresh, sweet sunlight.
It's hard to make out their expressions-
these forever silhouettes
against the shimmering Ugandan sun outside
sneaking into the hospital
and my white white hands
hang uselessly at my sides
and occasionally fold into the shape of a church
the people inside, inside the darkness, praying.
*based on my experience in Uganda in the summer of 2009
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State Hospital Kampala, Uganda draft #2, 4/02/24
This dark hospital among these dark people
This dark hospital among these dark people
lining the unlit passageway way of the hallway
and these dark wounds the blood thick and cakey.
and these dark wounds the blood thick and cakey.
A man in the unlit hallway lifts his shirt to reveal
a black hole that seems to be too deep for the thickness
of his black body and his white, white teeth
a faint glow, smile-shaped, in the midst of a pain-killer-less state,
I think he might even be smiling
because the docs are all on holiday for the next month.
I think he is laughing. An actual laugh void of sarcasm.
A matter of fact kind of laugh.
I hear most of the docs go to Europe or the Americas
for their vacations.
Esoteric knowledge- a kind of mysticism
flickers above my head the electricity
hanging on by a hangnail in this hospital.
The same thing happened with the woman
who crawled on her belly to greet us in Gulu.
We continued to watch as she dragged her carcass
around her shadowy hut searching for her sewing needle
somewhere on the dirt floor
but no haystack just this TV-less and phone-less existence and her
hospitality like fresh jack fruit and sunlight.
It's hard to make out their expressions
these forever silhouettes
against the bright Ugandan sun outside
sneaking into the hospital
and my white white hands
hang uselessly at my sides
and occasionally fold into the shape of a church
the people inside, inside the darkness, praying.
*based on my experience in Uganda in the summer of 2009
_______________________________________________________________________
State Hospital Kampala, Uganda draft #1, 3/24/24This dark hospital among these dark people
and these dark wounds the blood thick and cakey.
A man in the unlit hallway lifts his shirt to reveal
a black hole that seems to be too deep for the thickness
of his black body and his white, white teeth
a faint glow, smile-shaped, in the midst of a pain-killer-less state,
I think he might even being smiling
because the docs are all on holiday for the next month.
I think he is laughing. An actual laugh void of sarcasm.
A matter of fact kind of laugh.
I hear most of them go to Europe or the Americas.
Esoteric knowledge- a kind of mysticism
flickers above my head the electricity
hanging on by a hangnail in this hospital.
The same thing happened with the woman
who crawled on her belly to greet us.
We continued to watch as she dragged her carcass
around her shadowy hut searching for her sewing needle
somewhere on the dirt floor
but no haystack just this TV-less and phone-less existence and her
hospitality like fresh jack fruit and sunlight.
It's hard to make out their expressions
these forever silhouettes
against the bright Ugandan sun outside
sneaking into the hospital
and my white white hands
hang uselessly at my sides
and occasionally fold into the shape of a church
the people inside, inside the darkness, praying.
*based on my experience in Uganda in the summer of 2009
