Ngo Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

NGO

“What is this…? ”
He shouted like a fish in pitcher:
“Most of them are stores for bread.”

Then compared: “Groceries, electronics and repairs.”
He talked of NGOs with anger:
“Generous, they are in expenses, advertise…on paper and on line.., ”

Took a sip of the tea:
“They spoil clients with peanuts…as if dogs…”

His vein bulged, had red eyes and voice harsh, like the fall of a bough:
“This too is dirty game…they purchase local tools and slaves, and pay them…”

Raised his hand, locked fingers behind neck; his elbows straight:
“Locals are the spies and are fed with the bones, greyhounds…”

I rolled eyes to resist or show him:
“You are a pessimist…”

He dropped his arms and shouted back:
“You recall nine-ninety…and Kuwait invasion, and escapes…? ”
I nodded to confirm.
“Who remained? What happened? ”
I knew; so silent I remained.
“Indians labourers, Philippine girls, the nurses…”
I saw all in my mind as if then, all alive,
Came truck with water
Came plane and dropped

People ran like the herds
African buffalos and giraffes in fear.

“The work is, of elite and the rich…”

He slowed, rational seemed to be, logical:
“Bridge and catalyst NGOs…”