Showing posts with label languages. Show all posts
Showing posts with label languages. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

MONSIEUR ALEXANDRE AND KASIA

Once, a long long time ago, I was not a teacher, I was not an expatriate and I was not even thinking of going abroad. In those days, I was your regular university student, majoring in linguistics, studying hard for her exams and writing term papers. Today's post will only partly be written by yours truly, resident of Gabon. I would rather say it comes from the already-forgotten linguistics student, who is sometimes looking for a comeback. However, do not despair! If you're not interested in forms of address in the various languages I speak, don't give up on this entry. I will tell you a little something about Gabon, too.

You and its many translations
Yes, today I want to talk about forms of address, or, in other words, the familiar and polite ways of addressing other people. The most natural starting point is English, as it's the working language of this blog. However, there's not much to be said about English, because it uses the pronoun you for both formal and informal encounters. Therefore, it is not through the personal pronoun that you mark the difference between a conversation with, say, your future boss, and a chat with a friend. Whatever you say, you it is.

The other languages I speak on a daily basis - Polish, Galician and French - are different as far as forms of address are concerned. All three of them distinguish between the familiar (ty, ti and tu respectively) and the polite (pan/pani, vostede and vous). In theory, polite forms are used between adults who don't know each other or as an expression of respect. Thus, in a Polish cafe, when served by a person my age, I will still be addressed as pani, and I will always refer to my friends' parents as pan/pani, even if I know them very well. On the other hand, the familiar forms are reserved for people of (usually) similar age, with whom you are on the first-name basis, such as friends, colleagues, etc.

In practice, Galician, similarly to Spanish, tends to settle for the familiar ti in most situations. For example, it's not uncommon to use this pronoun when talking to your university professor, which, by the way, came as a great shock to me (consequently, I was the odd exchange student, who would address her teachers as vostede). Only French and Polish really retain the distinction between the formal and the intimate, which means - behold! - that I have actually found a rule in French which came completely naturally to me.

Vous and the Gabonese French
The French are very formal when speaking to people they don't know. The polite vous is omnipresent, and honorifics such as Madame and Monsieur are - even to my Polish ears - overused. So, nothing simpler than to adapt, I thought. Finally something I don't need to learn from scratch! Or is it?

Grasping the whole tu/vous issue in French as spoken by the Gabonese is, sadly, more difficult than it seems. While in theory the rules remain unchanged, most Gabonese address their fellow Africans as tu. This goes in line with the Central-African saying On est ensemble (we are together), which stresses that we are all brothers and sisters. Or, more specifically, that they are all African brothers and sisters, for white people will usually be addressed using the polite vous.

This leaves me in doubt as to how I should speak to the Gabonese: I want to adapt to the African rules, but a tu coming from me may be interpreted as racist, and not as an invitation to a less formal, African-style conversation. It is true that many white people address the Gabonese as tu, while the latter respond with the polite vous. And this, in my view, is indeed an expression of racism. On the other hand, it is sometimes difficult to convince an African (above all of lower social status) to give up vous while talking to you. It took me months of work to have the school's cleaning ladies call me tu, and the security guard still gets confused from time to time and greets me with Bonjour Madame, vous... tu... allez bien?

An equally interesting socio-linguistic phenomenon can be observed in the case of our cleaning lady. She always refers to Jandro as Monsieur Alexandre, as he is the man of the house and her boss. This respectful form is met with a vous-treatment from Jandro as well. However, from the very beginning, I have been addressed as Kasia and tu. Even though I also pay her and tell her what to do, she considers me of little consequence, which is automatically mirrored in her language. I consistently use vous when I talk to her, but the situation is not to be changed, we have been dubbed Monsieur Alexandre and Kasia for all eternity.

Finally, some African people (again, I'm not talking of the emerging middle class and the rich upper class) will employ tu all the time, even when addressing their superiors, but they will stress their respect by the use of a honorific (Madame/Monsieur). This leads to such charming grammatical inconsistencies as Madame, tu as grossi! (Madame, you've put on weight!). This is how I was once greeted by my tailor, and, unfortunately, he was absolutely right. Luckily, gaining a few kilograms is a positive thing in Africa, and my tailor still thinks I'm pretty.

Are you confused yet?
After reading this entry, do you begin to understand what a linguistic mayhem the inside of my head must be? Living in several foreign languages is a huge challenge. The changing cultural frameworks, terms of reference, words you're currently missing, words that you confuse, words, words, words... The two weeks in Poland will definitely do me good.

The picture comes from here.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

MBOLO TO ALL!

When I first came to Gabon, I was very preoccupied with my low level of French. Actually, I envisaged Libreville as a kind of African Paris, where everybody would rattle away in French to my utter despair, not paying any attention to the little white girl's trouble with understanding. Even though I was not far from the truth when I imagined all this horror (I've told you about my adventures with French several times before), I must admit that for a long time I didn't really notice a very important thing: although Gabon is a French-speaking country, le français is not the only language present on its rich linguistic map.

The population of Gabon is constituted by an overwhelming number of about 50 ethnic groups. They are all similar but different, with their specific dances, ceremonies and... languages. Yes, we are talking about a country where not two, not three, but fifty languages are spoken daily. To this, you should add the Pygmies and 300 000 immigrants from countries such as Nigeria and Equatorial Guinea, who are also bilingual in French and the something else. What you get is an intimidating number of languages spoken in a relatively small country (Gabon is roughly the size of Italy).

It is important to know that the biggest ethnic group are the Fang (about 30%). Other principal groups include the My
énè, the Tsogo, the Eshira, the Bapounou, the Batéké/Obamba, the Nzébi, the Bakota and the Mdébé. From what I've heard, the Fang tend to look down on the other groups, and, consequently, they are not very much liked by them. They are also said to be the richest and the most influential. The latter might be true: the biggest shopping mall in Libreville is called Mbolo or Hello in Fang.

So, each ethnic group boasts its own language and, you'll have noticed by now, there are plenty. They are officially divided into the following categories:
  • the Mazona (Fang) group in the north, which includes: Betsi, Meké, Mvaï, Ntumu, Nzaman and Okak;
  • the Meryé group in the south-west, which includes: Lumbu, Punu, Varama, Vili, Vungu, Eshira and Masango;
  • the Memberé group in the south-east, which includes: Obamba, Kaningui, Téké, Tsitségé and Mindumu;
  • the Myéné group in the north-west, which includes: Orungu, Galwa, Nkomi, Enenga and Adjumba;
  • the Membé group in the centre and east, which includes: Apindji, Bavuvi, Evia, Tsogho, Okandé and Simba;
  • the Menkona-Menaa group, which includes: Akélé, Bendambomo, Bawumbu, Beseki, Bungom, Mbahouin, Misigu and Shaké;
  • the Menkona-Mangoté group, which includes: Kota, Benga, Mahongwé, Mindasa and Samayi.
The next question to ask is: how come is French the official language then? And this is a relevant, if annoying, question, at least for me. Let me explain why. The fact that everybody speaks French (a vast majority of schools are monolingual in this language) is a direct result of colonisation. Hence, one could logically reason, the language should disappear with the rising of independence. However, French has obviously become a lingua franca in both Gabon and the rest of French-speaking Africa. Without it, some Gabonese might have serious problems with communication - even though they usually speak a few national languages (it's true, they are all polyglots!), they will at some point inevitably stumble upon an interlocutor whose mother tongue will be unknown to them. Moreover, as the national languages have mostly oral traditions (and very few, say, grammar books exist), it would be difficult to use them as official, standardized languages. Finally, how do you decide on the official language if there are fifty to choose from? How do you avoid ethnic and political conflicts? Also, imagine the amount of irrelevant translation! Finally something to compete with the bureaucracy of the EU! And so? French is here to stay, minority-language lovers (that's me, by the way) like it or not.

As a result, some of the national languages are on the verge of disappearing. Many people become monolingual in French (mind you, this is the case of Gabon and not other French-speaking countries in Africa). Notably, the president of the International Organisation of Francophonie is African (Senegalese).

As a final test, try asking a Gabonese what languages s/he speaks. The usual answer is: French, some English, a bit of Spanish... Consequently, I insist: What about the national languages? I am then confronted with a dismissive: Oh yes, that too. What can I say? Wake up, Gabon! Your
émergence should not forget about the linguistic heritage that was so generously bestowed upon you!

Abora for reading.

PS. Mbolo and abora are Fang words, meaning hello and thank you respectively.

The map comes from here.