Am I a Dutchman?

Long ago I knew how to speak my mother tongue,
it was clear as the morning song bird,
fresh as the east coast sea breeze drifting into my room...

I was the Dutchman.
Strong and foolish I was, am and probably will be...
A rugby fanatic, a castle swallower as well as a barbeque zealot...

So what made me leave for far shores unknown?
I left for 2 years yet only 11 hours flight away,
those that knew me thought I’d be back the following day...
...but I did not.

I was transformed, it is my unusual knack in life to...
become what I see... to adapt to what surrounds me...
...I seem to evolve away from that which I was.

So much so I seem to even loose my accent!
The very thing that shows I am “supposedly” a Dutchman!
If I didn’t tell the pommie he'd never know...

I’ve transformed, I’ve evolved...
...but haven’t I progressed too?

No... I’ve turned my back on my heritage...
...Who would recognise me now?
...Standing in the middle of the place I once called home?
...I’ve returned from distant shores, my time there come to an end.

Yet I smile broadly when I walk into the house and the first words I hear is...
...”Jah, jou Dutchman, hoe lyk dit met ‘n braaitjie?”