My 2 by 4 Inglish, bare grammatical errors. I man, result to broken English.
Deh propa name be pidgin, mix am wit our local dialect, code switching.
Boarding school initiated, adding its own rules n ting, strengthening a language tool.
Come back to London Town with a heavy accent. By the time one realises, in this “melting pot” from another “melting pot”. Cockney sounding, awite mate, chill out! African cockney, a uni mate once said to me.
Playfully adding patwah. Cos man, thinks him a rudebwoy. A who try fi tak rit dere soh! Not happening as I had expected. We still go go, try am small, small.
London blends like the multi-instrumentalists, multi-skilled, multi-talented ladies and gents. You see, hear, commune and play with.
Dem ones dere in isolation. In this lockdown situation. Some coping alittle and not others, pressure cooking.
We are open spaces, no borders. Borders caging walls, captured in. A prison not that prison!
Staying in mi, we yards, doing all sorts. Wiv family, lonesome, partnering and coupling.
Each and every one of these has their challenges, uplifts, adapting to the nu school.
This is teaching we, a new subject in life’s headmaster schooling. A kiss to the wind. An elevation to swing into new horizons.
Image by Mella Dee