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 Myénè, 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.

FRANÇAIS

Zimbabwe, São Tomé, South Africa, Mozambique, Angola or Mexico, Brasil, Nigeria, Russia... What do they have in common? Well, for starters, they are countries where I can (with some necessary adjustments) quite successfully communicate with other people. Gabon, on the other hand, together with Congo, Benin, Togo or Cameroon, is a completely different story.

Before I came here I'd had some French classes but I had never had time to study properly. In Santiago I had work, in Poland - work and my thesis, and thus, even though I had a couple of months to prepare myself for the linguistic shock, I hardly studied. I'm still suffering the consequences.

After a month of intense yet fruitless searching, we've found a French teacher for me. She's energetic, she speaks fast and she knows her stuff. And waits patiently for several minutes until in great pain I finish one of my brilliant sentences ("Today I am wearing a black dress and a bra."), which come out in some kind of strange Spanish anyway. I also do a German (!) - French tandem with a French guy once a week, I try to study a bit on my own and I acquire quite a lot by just being here. Supermarkets are a great linguistic opportunity, as are friendly taxi-drivers or other teachers at my school.

How did my friends learn this language, though? (Not a rhetorical question - friends, answer!) And, above all, why did I choose German at school? I mean, honestly, how can you not become frustrated with French? All those letters that magically disappear in pronunciation! Argh. But I am making some progress. After a month I suppose I've reached a level which allows me to get fruit on my own, to talk to the cleaning ladies outside of my building (and they are African! the accent is different!) or to understand what children say to me at school. The other day I actually managed to haggle in French and even though we probably overpaid I was terribly proud of myself.

Of course, I still have so much studying ahead of me. I often become irritated because a) I'm a perfectionist and consequently b) I don't feel I'm moving quickly enough. Like yesterday, when I couldn't explain to the taxi driver that he was going the wrong way and he ended up shouting at me. But then again, I managed to talk to the air-conditioning technicians who encountered an unexpected problem and I told them to come back in the afternoon (and they got it, since they are here right now).

Step by step (and they are small and painful and slow steps; and they are steps and not leaps; and I have weights attached to my ankles), I get closer to feeling a bit more comfortable in this strange country where five minutes last an hour, where everything costs a fortune, where I've seen the most beautiful sunsets ever.

AMÉRICAINE?

Last week I started working as an English teacher at a Gabonese (French?) elementary school. I teach ages 5 - 11 and, well, it's not easy but the kids (contrary to what I expected) are mostly great. I don't want to write about the school today, though; this blog is not about teaching in the end. The beginning of term brought about more concerns than just ESL methodology. I had to start moving around the city on my own - Jandro did not want to leave his job and become my full-time driver (the post is still free, interested?).

So, taxis. And, above all, speaking. French. Clearly. It is stressful, this taxi business. I described them in detail in April and, sadly, nothing's changed since then. The first time is always the most difficult but then, remember?, my first taxi was in April. Thus, this experience safely behind me, with new energy I started talking to the taxi drivers. With most of them it's easy: you say how much, you say where, they nod or drive away. Done. Of course, you have to get over the initial shock - the car, falling apart, is usually driven by some kind of NY gangsta imitation. But the rule is still Nike: Just Do It!

Consequently, many people have the pleasure of seeing my struggle with French. I have had quite a few successful conversations in that language, though: cleaning lady at the school (will switch off the air-conditioning), cheese lady at the supermaket (has three children, sister will get married soon), Senegalese taxi-driver (doesn't like Libreville but the job is good)... All of my interlocutors asked me immediately: "Américaine?" There must be something inevitably American about my accent and looks, I guess. I do always say I'm Polish and to that the reactions are many and diverse:
- Ahh, Poland! The Pope!
- Ahh, Poland! There was this football-player in 1970s., what's his name?
- Ahh, Poland! Close to Russia?
- Ahh, Poland! You speak English there?
- Ahh, Poland! Are you finally independent?

I wonder what people from Warsaw would say to a Gabonese person...? Ahh, Gabon! Where the hell is that?!

THE SUPERMARKET

Today for the first time I went by taxi all alone. And here's how it happened.

I had to go to the dentist's today (long story, let's just say thank God I bought travel insurance) and thus Jandro took me there after lunch. Then he had to go back to work and I decided to go to the M'Bolo supermarket all by myself. He told the taxi driver where to take me, I paid, mumbled "merciaurevoir" and went shopping. That was the easy part, of course.

I successfully asked for some cheese ("Bon soir, I'd like a piece of fromage du chèvre, s'il vous plaît") and then went on to buy some ham:

- I'd like 300 gramms of this ham, s'il vous plaît.
- ?
- This ham?
- (the lady takes the ham, puts it on the cutting thing and calls another lady)
- I'd like 300 grams of that ham, s'il vous plaît.
- ?
- 300 gramms? Three oh oh?
- Ahh, oui. C'est tout?
- Oui, c'est tout, merci.

I paid and then I proceeded to the special check-out place, where a gentleman has to put a stamp on your receipt. He is supposed to check if you paid for everything you have in your basket but in the end he just looks at you and stamps the receipt (I've already mentioned how good they are out here in creating unnecessary jobs, haven't I?). This gentleman (quite good-looking, I proudly admit) started flirting with me a little bit ("You first time M'Bolo? I don't see you early... My English very bad. You like Gabon?") but was not very successful.

And then the moment of truth came. I had to stop a taxi and say where I wanted to go and for how much. In French. As soon as I left the supermarket I saw an empty taxi approaching. I waved and he stopped. I said the thing I'd rehearsed millions of times in my head, employing my best French pronunciation: "Mille francs la course lycée Leon M'Ba". It worked. He said "Oui, madame" (I was flattered, they hardly ever say anything to you) and drove me home. I told him to stop in front of my building ("Ici c'est bon, merci.") and happily greeted the guard outside of our building. For the first time I felt like I was a tiny little bit from here. And I hadn't been this proud of myself in a looong time.

Of course, I was so concentrated on getting a taxi, that I forgot to get some bananas at the fruit stall outside of the supermarket. :)

The picture is of our fridge which I successfully filled with food.