Tower of Babel

I've had a love affair with English since before I could talk. I love finding just the right word to describe something. I love that you can change the pattern and cadence of a sentence to convey different mood and feelings. I love that the rhythm and taste of words can be beautiful and their meaning wondrous.

However, I have found English to be a jealous lover and there seems to be no room in my heart or my head for any other language. I tried repeatedly to cram Spanish in and accomplished very little. I did manage to have some minor success with American Sign Language, but other than that nothing seems to stick.

In The Gambia, everyone is multilingual. The official language is English, but most people speak at a minimum two tribal languages and usually more. There was an add in the paper for a mobile phone salesgirl. Among other requirements, the applicants had to be fluent in English and at least two local languages.

The majority of people in The Gambia are Mandinka but many speak Wolof as well. Wolof is the more prevalent language in Senegal one of The Gambia's major trading partners, so it has become the language of commerce. Fula and Jola are also common languages in the greater Banjul area.

As part of our study abroad program, we've being taking Wolof lessons. From my trip I took to The Gambia this past summer, I have a few (that is to say three) Mandinka greetings under my belt.

It's incredible how powerful even these rudimentary bits of language can be. The children are especially tickled. When they shout "Toubab! Toubab!" after us and we respond in Wolof or Mandinka, it's almost as if a dog had begun talking to them. Some of the older kids will laugh at our accents and some of the very little ones stare almost frightened at us.

Shop keepers, taxi drivers and passersby are so excited to hear a toubab speaking a local language. It's like Christmas has come early. I feel like a thief a few minutes later when they find out that beyond inquiring after the health of their family and thanking them, I can't say or understand much else.

I've had varying responses to my bumbling attempts at Wolof. An old Muslim man lectured me that if I was going to live in another country, I should already know the language. A friendly taxi driver taught me how to say "I have a husband." A security guard drinking attaya (green tea) told me I should be learning Mandinka instead.

I would love to be able to fully grasp even just one local language. It's frustrating to realize that even the little bit that I do learn is pretty much useless outside of Senegambia. Guess that means I'll just have to come back someday...