This is what I see

A house is a room where a room is a house
Mud brick and thatching
Or concrete and corrugated iron
It makes little difference
No one here lives under a roof
Life is lived in the front yard
On the side of the road
Spiderweb displays hang between trees
Clothing shoes sports equipment spare parts for bicyles
Things that seem part of Africa
And things that should be a thousand miles away
Little fires in the dust drift smoke
Drift memories of camping
Men idly poking corn cobs
Turning slowly over glowing coals
Sweet potato too
Manned by the women
Slowly roasting
Everything slowly
Oranges balded in a single spiral of peel
Sugar cane stripped by a stroking knife
Ah the street food of Tanzania
Part of the scenery until the night comes
Then the darkness is made by the glowing coals