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?”