They ask me where I come from
And I’m not sure what to say;
Not certain of the question,
Or if I’ll play along today:
While they gaze at me expectantly
I ponder for a while...
‘So, where do you come from?’
They repeat with patient smile.

Hmm... where do I come from?
What would you like to hear?
I hear the words you utter,
But their meaning isn’t clear:
I’ve oft been asked that question –
My response should not take long,
But tho’ the answer’s mine to give
Somehow I sometimes get it wrong!

‘Where do you come from?’
It’s buzzing round my mind;
Such a heavy-loaded question
I very often find:
Referring not to who I am –
The way that I see me –
But laden with assumptions
‘Bout what they think they see.

My skin, it seems, speaks loudly,
But its message isn’t clear;
It depends on who is listening
And what they want to hear;
And because that is the way it is,
Sometimes, without intent,
I can’t hear the simple question
Without questioning what is meant.

Right, I’ve got my answer!
I know what I’ll reply;
The question isn’t difficult –
Sometimes I wonder why
I try to read so very much
Behind the word that’s said,
When the answer to the question
Springs instant to my head:

Tottenham! That’s where I’m from;
I’ll say it clear and loud!
It’s not everybody’s paradise
But I’m from Tottenham, and I’m proud!
Born just slightly up the road,
I’ve lived my whole life there;
A Tottenham-girl, that’s what I am,
If you know me, that’s quite clear.

A brief silence.
A kindly smile.
‘Yes... but where do you come from?
Jamaica...? If not, then where?’
All my life just isn’t long enough
To make me come from ‘here’!

And then there came my calling
And in truth I found it odd,
For the voice which said ‘Leave Tottenham’
To me did not sound like God;
For sure I heard God calling,
And yet it seemed to me,
An assumed and human answer
To leave home and family.

I know that quirky God we worship
Sometimes sends where we don’t know,
Throws a spanner right into the works
And dares us, ‘Will you go?’
But sometimes that self-same quirky God,
With His mysterious way,
Is not all that mysterious
And asks simply, ‘Will you stay?’

So I agonised and fell apart,
Then got a grip at last –
The Tottenham-girl that I had been
In part was in the past;
But she’s not gone, she’s not forgotten,
So my heart can cope somehow -
Re-formed and re-located...
Maybe Totten-Lutonian now?

A new home.
A new identity?
Where do I come from?

You know, it’s really quite peculiar -
All different, yet still me,
At once, no longer who I was,
But not yet who I’ll be.
Just trusting in that still, small voice,
Amidst the tumult, clear,
Which says ‘No matter who or where you are
You’re mine, and I am here.’

© Karen Campbell, 2005 and 2010