94 Mupini Drive

Last night I had a meltdown.

I gasped and panted, and my heart pumped.

A nightmare!

Someone had sold my mother's house.

I vaguely remember who, but had my usual suspects.

My father’s younger wife, his brother and my half-brothers.

Behind my back they had forged the papers and become owners.

I don't blame them, I had been away so long;

Stranger in a strange land.

Many times I had verbally expressed my dislike of it;

Dirty walls, broken windows and a plague of cultural wars.

This one time I went ballistic, exploded like a beast unleashed.

Waved a stick in the air (looked like my old cricket bat…) at my father’s younger wife.

She blamed my father’s brother, or attempted to…

In reality, I was kind and generous to both. Never inherited hate.

I threatened to destroy everyone, and to sue.

To sue? Who? In Africa? Another American influence in my dream.

Truth be told, I could afford another house, bigger, better and anywhere.

But I wanted this one, only this one, this grotesque parched piece of land

In the middle of nowhere: 94 Mupini Drive.

Someone had sold my house.

Then I woke up - (Its 5am, and I'm working today).