When I was a little boy on the dusty road of Goodlands
I was told I was a ‘Telgu’.
My ‘Telgu’ father fathered a child with a ‘non-Telgu’ girl
Before marrying my mother
A ‘Telgu’ girl from Quartier Militaire
Where she had learnt Tifrer’s and others’ Creole songs
Which she sang to me:
• Pa bate li misie,
• Ler mo ti kontan twa Lilinn,
• Kari lalo milatres,
• Roule mon’pti Sir Zil,
• Nwar, nwar, nwar do mama,
• Charli – O, aret bwar diven banann …
My ‘non-Telgu’ friends who spoke Creole and Bhojpuri
Loved to tease me.
For them ‘tel’ was ‘oil’ and ‘gu’ was ‘shit’
And so I was – what was I? –
Oily shit or shitty oil?
