Collected Poems

Carol Ann Duffy | 2 mins

Comprehensive

Tutumantu is like hopscotch, Kwani-kwani is like hide-and-seek.

When my sister came back to Africa she could only speak

English. Sometimes we fought in bed because she didn’t know

what I was saying. I like Africa better than England.

My mother says You will like it when we get our own house.

We talk a lot about the things we used to do

in Africa and then we are happy.

Wayne. Fourteen. Games are for kids. I support

the National Front. Paki-bashing and pulling girls’

knickers down. Dad’s got his own mini-cab. We watch

the video. I Spit on Your Grave. Brilliant.

I don’t suppose I’ll get a job. It’s all them

coming over here to work. Arsenal.

Masjid at 6 o’clock. School at 8. There was

a friendly shop selling rice. They ground it at home

to make the evening nan. Families face Mecca.

There was much more room to play than here in London.

We played in an old village. It is empty now.

We got a plane to Heathrow. People wrote to us

that everything was easy here.

It’s boring. Get engaged. Probably work in Safeways

worst luck. I haven’t lost it yet because I want

respect. Marlon Frederic’s nice but he’s a bit dark.

I like Madness. The lead singer’s dead good.

My mum is bad with her nerves. She won’t

let me do nothing. Michelle. It’s just boring.

Ejaz. They put some sausages on my plate.

As I was going to put one in my mouth

a Moslem boy jumped on me and pulled.

The plate dropped on the floor and broke. He asked me in Urdu

if I was a Moslem. I said Yes. You shouldn’t be eating this.

It’s a pig’s meat. So we became friends.

My sister went out with one. There was murder.

I’d like to be mates, but they’re different from us.

Some of them wear turbans in class. You can’t help

taking the piss. I’m going in the Army.

No choice really. When I get married

I might emigrate. A girl who can cook

with long legs. Australia sounds all right.

Some of my family are named after the Moghul emperors.

Aurangzeb, Jehangir, Batur, Humayun. I was born

thirteen years ago in Jhelum. This is a hard school.

A man came in with a milk crate. The teacher told us

to drink our milk. I didn’t understand what she was saying,

so I didn’t go to get any milk. I have hope and am ambitious.

At first I felt as if I was dreaming, but I wasn’t.

Everything I saw was true.