Six months??? Seriously?? I took French classes for six years in secondary school. And my poor dad was mandated to pay for extra summer classes at Alliance Francaise where I was taught “more” French. However, all I can remember now is Je m’appelle Marie. And maybe a few verbs. Manger - to eat. Dormir - to sleep. Because I love eating and sleeping!
Being bilingual is insanely exciting. For me, living and studying in America are experiences that I would want to have over and over again for a lifetime. I have been grounded in the English language more than I would ever be if I were back home (considering the fact that I have more materials within my reach here in the U.S.). English is a global language, and if I had not learned English, I would probably not have survived in America.
But English does have yet another phase. It is also a pulling apart force. Don't get me wrong. I do love English. I want to be a professor of English. I adore Shakespeare. But I am secretly depressed every day over the fact that English has pulled me away from me. English has created a dividing wall between me and me. I am my culture, and it is sad for me to have to study Yoruba in order to pass my New York University proficiency exam. This exam is supposed to give me twelve college credits for my electives. I am sad. I am sad because I have to google “months of the year in Yoruba.” I am sad because I have to call my friends who are back home and have them explain to me some Yoruba verb conjugations. I am depressed because instead of doing my intellectual thinking in Yoruba and translating to English, I am now studying for my proficiency exam and writing words down in English, thinking, “What on earth does this word mean in Yoruba?”
I have had my own fair share of America’s curiosity:
“ What!?! You speak English? Why? How?”
“So did you go to high school?”
“So how did you pass the SAT exam?”
This is why I beg to explain. English is Nigeria’s official language. Really, who doesn’t know that already? Yoruba language is spoken by over fifty million Africans, yes, and it is my mother tongue. But almost every Nigerian is bilingual. You speak English and Yoruba, or Igbo and Yoruba, or Igbo and Pidgin, e.t.c. I learned to translate from Yoruba to English and back from English since I could put pen to paper and correctly spell out my name. Eja - fish; Aja - dog; Omo - child.
Issues? Lots of them. I have a word in my head, in Yoruba, but I’m speaking to an American who does not understand Yoruba. I get huge brain blocks, and I just can’t figure out what the English translation of most Yoruba words are. Don't get me wrong; I do read, speak, and write Yoruba relatively well. However, a huge chunk of my intellectual thinking cannot be expressed sufficiently in Yoruba. I’m speaking to mynaija friends on the phone. With my too many years of English, I’m thinking of the English word in my head, searching for the best Yoruba equivalence.
This is what language does. Think of nuclear fusion. Language bonds; bonding being the very essence of the world’s chemistry. But language also pulls apart. Language creates a barrier between you and you. Think of nuclear fission. Language splits you into different yous.
I want to be the me that I was in high school. The me who was convenient speaking Yoruba fluently. The me who was less confused, who would think of Yoruba in her head and attempt fishing out a British English equivalent. I want to be the me who doesn’t say “wanna” or “y’all” or “I don’t know nothing.” I want to be me again. Will I ever be?
« return.