When I am home

"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 lipof 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 ugaliwith 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 piLugisu 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 Wasake7 November 2008