iv) Appetites Summoned

We sang as we waited
for dinner to beckon -
our appetites summoned
by war-rationed goodies.
Sometimes, who knows how
Mummy brought out the corned beef
a treat in those harsh times -
a currified hash.

Once pale British labourers
knocked soft at our door
bent, asking for food
looking weary from sweat.
And Daddy came rushing
from drying his hair
and said “No, nothing doing.”
This food was for brown skins.

He knew they were testing
to see if we’d help.
And not asking questions
if caught helping white skins
they‘d take us and shoot us
he knew that was that.

We sat without dinner
plates filled with cold curry,
each watching the next house
as pale British labourers
bent, weary, and hungry
crept up their front stairs.

We sang as we waited
for dinner to beckon -
our appetites dampened
by shots from a distance.


(c) Charlene Rajendran 1999