Shapeless Plantain with black rubber skins
Salt fish shrivelled and dried up
like my flaky skin, when me nuh creme from mawnin

“Its not the right season”

So they gave me shoes
to walk the British walk
and talk the British talk
and the British food I cook
is from a British cooking book

But I’m still hungry

My tongue longs for the taste of my culture
With the well seasoned knowledge
from the garden of my roots
That is grown by my nature

“Its not the right season!”

So they gave me shoes
to walk the British walk
talk the British talk
and British food I cook
is from a British cooking book

“But it’s not the right season!” They cried
“No,” I replied,
“It’s just not the right seasoning.”

© Marcia Calame, 2008 (all rights reserved)