"Yes suh",
"No maam",
or "Full English, no toast or egg?"
and too often; "Why, thank you for your custom!"
All day I chant,
speaking this people's talk,
and walking their walk,
but when I get home,
I shed off that mask,
of stiff upper lip
of stiff starched pants,
of stiff number badge job.
Soon as I am home,
out jumps mama's LP,
and after the pata pata dance,
the twist and the calypso,
on comes prince Nico,
belting out his ode to sweet mother,
I am then in my element,
dancing a jig,
as I shuffle to kitchen,
to knead a meal of ugali
with loads of chapati,
and nakati too!
When I am home,
I call Edward Lutakome,
and we chatter away in dialect strange,
Luganda today; eradde Ssebo,
Acholi tomorrow; Ike de pi
Lugisu always; Imbalu yarafua!
Soon as I am home,
I dream of plantain and ground nuts,
and a farm of cows and goats,
watching them file past me,
brand mark to show
"DW bududa farm ranch";
my own pie in the sky,
when I shall finally say;
out with the stiff upper lip,
in with the thick lower lip.
D E Wasake
7 November 2008
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3 comments:
dude, when yo home, you don't holla at the rolla dude, no?? shame :D
Now I know. If I want to learn the accent of 'outside nani' the trick is to keep a stiff upper lip.
It's a beautiful poem. I love it.
Absolutely funny ending. How brilliant.
I am now reading poetry of an author I need not have known - from a book I picked up and purchased because I needed the spaces in this poet's art to put in the space that's my own life.
This, my friend from Uganda, is absolutely brilliant, delightful poetry. It amazes me and is so entertaining.
Could such a writer be an accountant too? Wish I were able to do something to provide income and still be as committed a poet as this.
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