Postcolonial Linguistic Voices: Identity Choices and Representations 9783110260694, 9783110260663

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Postcolonial Linguistic Voices

Contributions to the Sociology of Language 100

Editor

Joshua A. Fishman

De Gruyter Mouton

Postcolonial Linguistic Voices Identity Choices and Representations

edited by

Eric A. Anchimbe Stephen A. Mforteh

De Gruyter Mouton

ISBN 978-3-11-026066-3 e-ISBN 978-3-11-026069-4 ISSN 1861-0676 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Postcolonial linguistic voices : identity choices and representations / edited by Eric A. Anchimbe and Stephen A. Mforteh. p. cm. ⫺ (Contributions to the sociology of language; 100) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-3-11-026066-3 (alk. paper) 1. Sociolinguistics. 2. Postcolonialism. 3. Multilingual persons ⫺ Social conditions. 4. Anthropological linguistics. I. Anchimbe, Eric A. II. Mforteh, Stephen A. P40.P655 2011 306.44⫺dc23 2011033423

Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available in the Internet at http://dnb.d-nb.de. ” 2011 Walter de Gruyter GmbH & Co. KG, Berlin/Boston Cover image: sculpies/shutterstock Typesetting: PTP-Berlin Protago-TEX-Produktion GmbH, Berlin Printing: Hubert & Co. GmbH & Co. KG, Göttingen ⬁ Printed on acid-free paper Printed in Germany www.degruyter.com

So, if you want to really hurt me, talk bad about my language. Ethnic identity is twin skin to linguistic identity – I am my language. Until I can take pride in my language, I cannot take pride in myself. Gloria Anzaldúa, Borderlands / La Frontera: The New Mestiza (1987: 58 – 59)

for Paul N. Mbangwana and Dick W. Janney

Preface The expression ‘postcolonial linguistic voices’, used in the title of this collection, refers to discursive, oral, written, and imagined reactions to, recreations of, discussions about, narratives of, and representations of, realities – linguistic and non-linguistic – in communities that were affected by colonialism. It covers languages, i.e. the plurilingual landscape, linguistic choices, linguistic identities, and general patterns of communication in these postcolonial spaces. These voices are general, common, and normal, having been hybridised – or are they still hybridising? – as a result of colonial encounter. Though the voices are many and disparaged, the fundamental issues they evoke are basically similar across the ex-colonial world. Our aim in this volume is to bring together some aspects of these voices in the descriptions of linguistic processes like code-switching, multilingualism, translation, and identity construction, within and across regions like Hong Kong, Taiwan, India, Mozambique, Botswana, Uganda, Cameroon, Kenya and Nigeria. The issues discussed range from cultural communication, nationhood discourses, political discourse, Bible translation, religious communication, dictionary writing and ethnolects or regional language standards and varieties. In order to understand the two extremes of the colonial encounter, we have brought together perspectives from both ex-colonial and ex-coloniser countries. The ex-coloniser’s point of view, experience, and how they cope with the outcomes of colonialism are placed side-by-side the ex-colonised perspective not in the historical sense but in synchronic time. Overall, our objective is to encourage community-based frameworks in the study of postcolonial linguistic behaviour both at home and abroad. In the past, several ready-made approaches from the West had been used which cast these communities on the outset. It is our wish that in depth studies that place these spaces at the centre of theory formation and analysis follow the ones presented in this volume – which without doubt are not exhaustive. Some of the chapters in this book were initially presented at the panel “Rewriting linguistic history: (Post)colonial reality on the fringes of linguistic theory” (organised by Eric A. Anchimbe) that held at the INST conference: Knowledge, Creativity and Transformations of Societies, Vienna, December 6–9, 2007. They are published here in signi¿cantly revised forms from those published in the proceedings, TRANS 17. We are grateful to the organisers of that conference. We would like to express our gratitude to the authors in this volume for their valuable contributions and active participation in the editing process. The

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Preface

anonymous reviewers and colleagues who read through and commented on chapters in this book deserve a special word of thanks. We are grateful to the following people who assisted us in various ways during the preparation of this volume: Hugo C. Cardoso, Bernard Mulo Farenkia, Yves Talla Sando, Edith Bwana, Jean-Benoît Tsofack, Jude Ssempuuma, Susanne Mühleisen, Jane Mforteh, and Joyce Abla Anchimbe. Many thanks are due for Joshua A. Fishman and Ofelia Garcia for taking interest in, and proposing this book in the series ‘Contributions to the Sociology of Language’. It was a pleasure working with Marcia Schwartz and Wolfgang Konwitschny at Mouton de Gruyter, to whom we also extend our thanks. Eric A. Anchimbe Stephen A. Mforteh

Contents Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

ix

Introduction Chapter 1 Postcolonial linguistic voices: Stitching together identity choices and their representations . . . . . . . . . . Eric A. Anchimbe

3

I. Postcolonial identities: Age, gender, ethnicity, and language Chapter 2 U r ma treasure bila measure: Identity construction in Kenya’s multilingual spaces . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Christiane Meierkord Chapter 3 Gender and cultural identity in a television show in Botswana . . . . . . . . . Sibonile Edith Ellece Chapter 4 The English language and the construction of a Cameroon anglophone identity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Eric A. Anchimbe

25

51

77

II. Nationhood discourses: Language, policy, and politics Chapter 5 Nation-statehood and linguistic diversity in the postcolony: The case of Portuguese and indigenous languages in Mozambique . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Gregório Firmino

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Chapter 6 The emergence of an indigenous language as lingua franca: The case of Luganda in Uganda . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119 Jude Ssempuuma

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Contents

Chapter 7 Roles and identities in postcolonial political discourse in Cameroon . . . . 143 Stephen A. Mforteh III. Translating the postcolonial: Religion and lexicography Chapter 8 Contesting the sacred in Tamil: Missionary translations and Protestant scriptures in colonial South India . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167 Hephzibah Israel Chapter 9 What mental images reveal about religious lexemes in Yoruba and English in present-day Nigerian churches . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 Folorunso Odidiomo Chapter 10 Foreign culture lexicography and beyond: Perspectives from the history of Igbo lexicography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201 Chinedu Uchechukwu IV. Living the postcolonial: Local tongues in ex-colonial languages Chapter 11 Lexical gap, semantic incongruence, and the medium-of-learning effect: Evidence from Chinese-English code-switching in Hong Kong and Taiwan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215 David C. S. Li Chapter 12 Lamnso’ English: A study in ethnic variation in Cameroon English . . . . . 241 Bonaventure M. Sala

Contents

xiii

V. Colonising the coloniser: Ex-colonialist discourses and immigration Chapter 13 Postcolonial continuities in Danish monolingual dictionaries: Towards a critical postcolonial linguistics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Antje Lann Hornscheidt Chapter 14 Cape Verdean Creole in Lisbon: The young generation’s perspective . . . 299 Christina Märzhäuser Chapter 15 Code-switching among Igbo-Nigerian immigrants in Padua (Italy) . . . . . 323 Francesco Goglia Conclusion Chapter 16 Meeting of the exs: The ex-colonised meets the ex-coloniser . . . . . . . . . . 345 Stephen A. Mforteh Contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 351 Subject index. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 357 Author index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 361

Introduction

Chapter 1 Postcolonial linguistic voices: Stitching together identity choices and their representations

Eric A. Anchimbe

1.

Overview of postcolonial societies

Anyone looking at the title of this book, Postcolonial Linguistic Voices, may immediately think of literature and cultural theory especially if the word ‘linguistic’ is omitted. This is perhaps because more attention has been drawn to the state of postcolonial life and realities in literature and cultural theory than in linguistics. The umbrella reference, Postcolonial Studies, referring to the institutionalised study of postcolonial writings especially could be a reason for this. Again, the much talked about and contested postcolonial theory emerged predominantly in literary and cultural theory even though investigating writings and discourses that represent the voices and choices of people in, on or about postcolonial contexts. But this book treats voices ¿rst of all as the outlet of language, as the carrier of expression, as the indicator of representations of ourselves and others, and the vocal channel of the choices we make each time we communicate. As an anecdote, it is the voice, i.e. the language which is twin to ethnicity, as the epigraph above shows (Anzaldúa 1987: 58 – 59), that people defend as a symbol of who they are, where they come from and what they represent. Irrespective of how the expression ‘postcolonial voices’ has been applied in literature, it is used here to show how through language postcolonial nations and ex-coloniser nations represent themselves in their various voices whether in written discourse, multilingual oral/written communication or through ideologies and conceptualisations of themselves and others, of their societies and others, and of the identities they create in order to maintain in-groups or counter out-groups. Postcolonial societies are generally very multilingual. They are multitribal and multiethnic. Bilingualism is more or less a rule and usually involves an ex-colonial language plus an indigenous or ethnic or tribal language. The mul-

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Eric A. Anchimbe

tiplicity of languages forces speakers to switch from one language to another depending on the context in which they ¿nd themselves and the topic they are involved in. And in switching they sometimes adopt the (social and linguistic) identities constructed around those languages to which they switch. In a way, they remake themselves anew each time they want to bene¿t from the wealth of opportunities offered by the language(s) they switch to. In these communities, code-switching is unavoidable and helps sustain the mixed or contact languages (pidgins, creoles, bilingual mixed languages) existing in these societies. There is a pervasive inÀuence of ex-colonial languages on indigenous languages to the point that the latter are often said to be endangered or in some cases killed by the former. Also, but from the other end, indigenous languages are often accused of negatively inÀuencing speakers’ performance in the excolonial languages. The former have also been marked as one of the causes of the disintegration or deterioration of the ex-colonial language in these contexts. We could go on and on listing features, conceptualisations and even stereotypes commonly identi¿ed – from both etic and emic perspectives – with postcolonial societies. To represent the multilingual status of these communities, this volume uses data from several languages and from many different regions. The above facts or features are not new about countries that were created at the end of European colonisation of especially the 18th and 19th centuries. The authenticity of these facts has also come under question at different times and from different perspectives. This too is not new given that the authenticity debate is still ongoing. What rather seems new, at least from the perspective adopted in this volume, is that the speci¿c patterns of multilingualism and multilingual communication, linguistic identity construction, ex-colonial nationstate life – the so-called postcolonial binaries – though signi¿cantly similar, have speci¿c aspects that defeat the hitherto generalised and simpli¿ed manner in which they have been presented. These binaries, which include such opposing extremes like coloniser-colonised, oppressor-oppressed, self-other, indigenous (language, culture, people, etc.)-foreign (language, culture, people, etc.), local-global, primitive-modern, etc., need to be taken with a pinch of salt since they do not represent most current realities of these communities. Although I still use the term postcolonial here – more from a historical rather than a consistent theoretical stance – the aim is to reiterate that each postcolonial community be treated, ¿rst, with respect to its individual speci¿cities before being plotted into the broader frame. This line of thinking previously proposed in Anchimbe (2007) is further substantiated here with case studies from more countries in Africa and Asia. Though this book concentrates on these two continents, the ¿ndings and analyses apply to other similar contexts in the Caribbean, South and Central America and South East Asia, already extensively covered in An-

Postcolonial linguistic voices: Identity choices and their representations

5

chimbe (2007). Future research could cover other regions in the Paci¿c, New Zealand and other ex-colonial languages like French, Spanish and Portuguese. With contributions from Cameroon, Nigeria, Kenya, Botswana, Uganda, Mozambique, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and India, on the one hand and Portugal, Denmark and Italy on the other, this book intends to throw light on how speci¿c, hybrid, and hybridising aspects of life in postcolonial contexts are, and how these have affected or are affecting life in the former coloniser nations. The three European countries, Portugal, Denmark and Italy, have been chosen because their role in colonialism has in the past been sanitised or downplayed in various discourses. Bringing them to the fore as chapters 13, 14 and 15 do helps us understand how they deal with immigrant discourses/voices and identities, and how they represent their role in colonialism. There already exists substantial research on the more typical ex-colonial nations like France and Britain (see Mühleisen 2002, Hinrichs 2006, etc.). Although focus here is on linguistic habits, the patterns stretch beyond language into cultural habits, religious leanings, interpersonal respect and (im)balance of power. These ex-colonised countries have different of¿cial languages but the patterns of colonial vs. indigenous language and/or pidgin or creole interrelationship are basically similar albeit speci¿cities that can only be understood through community-based or emic frameworks. The chapters in this book propose some of such frameworks as they advance answers to questions like: – Did the introduction of new languages at colonialism distort the balance between languages in the areas that were colonised? – How has the introduction of new languages played into cognitive, sociological and cultural structures in religion, education, commerce, and lexicography? – Was the relationship between indigenous and colonial languages the same in countries where only one colonial power was involved (e.g. Nigeria, Mozambique) and in those where more than one were involved (e.g. Cameroon)? – Has there been some form of back-colonisation, i.e. what we have referred to here as “colonising the coloniser” in the coloniser nations? – In which ways do colonisers present themselves today vis-à-vis colonial atrocities? Do they express remorse or rather sanitise their role in colonialism? – Will ex-colonial languages, which today have been nativised in postcolonial contexts, continue to serve as lingua francas or will indigenous languages rise to that role?

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Eric A. Anchimbe

These questions, like the facts or characteristics of postcolonial communities listed above, if studied in detail will lay bare some of the false assumptions held about the mix of languages and peoples, the patterns of interpersonal communication, and the trends in sociocultural interaction in these contexts. For instance, how apt is it to describe Cameroon as a bilingual country solely on the basis of the use of ex-colonial languages, French and English, as of¿cial languages? (see chapter 4). From what standpoint is it appropriate to say Indian gods are not almighty like the Christian God? (see chapter 8). We hope to provide if not complete answers then signi¿cant clues on these questions in the chapters of this book.

2.

Similarity or dissimilarity: On postcolonial binaries

In his recent book on Postcolonial Englishes (PCEs), Schneider (2007: 317) illustrates that these varieties of the language emerged in the same historical way but, however, reÀect “a delicate balance between forces of divergence and forces of convergence which characterise both human interaction and language use in general, a balance which needs to be continuously readjusted”. The idea of balance should not be interpreted from the perspective of power balance between ex-colonial communities and ex-coloniser countries. It should rather be considered, as this volume does, as a representation of these communities in their constantly re-adjusting statuses independent of the current impact of the ex-coloniser. Claiming as he does in his Dynamic Model that “despite all surface differences there is an underlying uniform process which has driven the individual instantiations of PCEs growing in different localities”, Schneider (2007: 21) levels the binaries built over years of the study of postcolonial communities, especially postcolonial writings. First of all, he includes into the label ‘postcolonial Englishes’ countries like the USA, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand which have generally been plotted into the centre rather than the colonial periphery or into the inner circle rather than the outer circle or expanding circle of Kachru’s (1985) much quoted ‘concentric circles of English’. Second, he advocates, on the same lines with Mufwene (2001), Mühleisen (2002), DeGraf (2003), and Anchimbe (2006), the study of PCEs and English-derived pidgins and creoles as naturally evolving languages whose prestige should not be curtailed simply because of the patterns and contexts of their emergence. This volume takes it from there and so advocates the study of postcolonial societies as sociohistorically complete societies whose patterns of evolution, though speci¿c to given contexts due to the mix during and even before colo-

Postcolonial linguistic voices: Identity choices and their representations

7

nialism, are not different from other normal societies. It illustrates that these binaries, arguably the inventions of the colonisers, have become so blurred that they no longer represent any speci¿c static situation in either the ex-colonised or ex-coloniser countries. Similar perspectives in recent sociolinguistic literature include Canagarajah’s (2005) focus on codemeshing as a mode of representing local identities, Pennycook’s (2007) notion of transcultural Àows and global linguistic Àows, Higgins’ (2009) work on multivocality, and Garcia’s (2009) discussion on translanguaging. However, to be able to understand the current state of postcolonial societies, it is important to show limitations in some of the binaries listed above. Attention is paid in the next two sections to 1) the conceptualisation of (ex-)colonial language(s) vs. indigenous languages and 2) notions of of¿cial language(s) vs. national languages. 2.1.

Ex-colonial language vs. indigenous languages

From a hawk-eye perspective, postcolonies have been plotted linguistically along two lines: the use of the ex-colonial language which is often the only or one of the of¿cial languages of the nation-state and the use of the large set of indigenous languages being the heritage of ethnic and tribal groups. Pidgins and creoles have been placed in the grey zone between these two. This linguistic classi¿cation is only a part of the extended binaries of local vs. foreign and indigenous vs. modern. These languages have often been treated on unequal basis, with the whole lot of the indigenous languages being considered as one and compared to the of¿cial language. The of¿cial language is, as a result, not classi¿ed as one of the languages in these linguaspaces but is given the status of the only non-local, ethnically-neutral, superior language whose status differs from that of the other languages. Several countries studied in this book display this classi¿cation: Kenya, Nigeria, Uganda, Mozambique, Botswana and India. This hawk-eye classi¿cation does not ¿t all ex-colonies. While in some the distinction is between two ex-colonial languages (e.g. Cameroon), in others it is between an ex-colonial language and a pidgin or creole (e.g. the Caribbean). In the case of Jamaica, Farquharson (2007: 249) makes this clear when he presents the two opposing groups in the debate on language: there are “(i) those that call for the continuous use of English and the abolition of Jamaican [Creole]; and (ii) those who consider Jamaican a normal language that needs to be recognised properly”. In Cameroon, the distinction is, besides the indigenous languages, predominantly between, and the construction of linguistic identities is also on, the two of¿cial languages, French and English, inherited from colonialism: francophonism and anglophonism respectively (see Anchimbe 2005). Came-

8

Eric A. Anchimbe

roonians, therefore, function on the lines of anglophones (being from the English-speaking part) and francophones (being from the French-speaking part of the country). So, the classi¿cation according to ex-colonial of¿cial languages vs. indigenous languages does not completely ¿t this context because the conÀict between of¿cial and indigenous languages and cultures witnessed in other contexts is rather played between the two of¿cial languages. Because in-group affection and collaboration are very strong within each of these groups, Wolf (2001: 223) says that “the feeling of unity is so strong that ‘being Anglophone’ denotes a new ethnicity, transcending older ethnic ties”. Several sociolinguistic problems have emerged between the anglophones and the francophones because each of them prioritises their colonially-inherited identity and language even over the locally-based indigenous language identity. The following incident, reported by The Post newspaper in Cameroon, took place in the National Assembly: A plenary seating of the just-ended parliamentary session devoted for the adoption of the 2005 budget on December 17, slipped into the sidelines of a row when one MP called Hon. Paulinus Jua a Nigerian. Hon. Jua, who is the MP for the Boyo constituency in the Northwest Province, had charged up to the rostrum with a motion that the adoption of the budget be postponed. He had hardly begun making his submission when the CPDM MP for Mayo-Sava in the Far North Province, Hon. Blama Malla, shouted that he is a Nigerian. Silence enveloped the hemi-cycle as MPs looked on with embarrassment. Then Blama Malla said it again; “Jua is a Nigerian.” Hon. Jua stood looking perplexed, but later shouted; “You call me a Nigerian?” Then the entire Parliamentary Group of the Opposition Social Democratic Front, SDF, went into a rage, saying it was an insult against all Anglophones. Anglophone CPDM MPs equally protested that somebody referred to a fellow Cameroonian as a Nigerian simply because he spoke in English. The violent melee lasted a little over seven minutes as Ministers gaped at the melee…When calm returned, Jua said he was happy and proud that he was born an Anglophone. Said he; “I am an Anglophone from former West Cameroon and I am proud of that.” (The Post newspaper, December 20, 2004)

The members of parliament who stream to the defence of Paulinus Jua do so because they share the English language and are hence anglophones. They defy party boundaries to show solidarity when their colonially-inherited identity is threatened by a francophone, who is normally opposed to them, the anglophones. In the linguistic scenario described above, the indigenous languages only come in third place. They are not considered for national or regional functions as Igbo, Hausa and Yoruba are in Nigeria, or as Swahili was in Kenya (before being declared of¿cial language as per the August 2010 Constitution), or as Lu-

Postcolonial linguistic voices: Identity choices and their representations

9

ganda is in Uganda. Like in most of the other ex-colonies, they are still treated in a lump and compared to the of¿cial languages. This book calls for more balanced, non-dichotomous classi¿cations that take into account the functional statuses of these languages. For example, the discussions of bilingualism in research works should not only be based on an of¿cial language plus an indigenous language but should be extended to cover competence in two or more indigenous languages or a creole or pidgin plus an of¿cial language or an indigenous language. 2.2.

National language vs. of¿cial language

In most traditionally monolingual countries, there is no distinction between an of¿cial language and a national language. Generally, such communities do not call their language of¿cial language. It is normal for the language – generally the only or the major language the nation has – to be the national language. But the distinction between an of¿cial and a national language has been introduced in postcolonial communities to accommodate the changing (political, especially) statuses of the many indigenous languages. In the very common cases, the of¿cial languages are the ex-colonial languages while the national languages are selected from the large number of indigenous languages. This is the hawk-eye postcolonial binary perspective but this classi¿cation takes place differently in different countries and the terminology is also generally different. In Nigeria, for instance, the term national language is avoided. In its place, the appellation major languages is used to refer to the three most spoken languages, i.e. Igbo, Yoruba and Hausa. In Cameroon, the expression national languages refers to all indigenous languages of the country since they are treated as part of the national heritage. Interesting English and French do not belong in this category in spite of the much talk in research circles of Cameroon English (Simo Bobda 1994, Anchimbe 2006, Kouega 2007) and Cameroon French (Biloa 2004, Mulo Farenkia 2008). Cameroon Pidgin English is not mentioned in the constitution at all even though it plays a big role in linking people from different ethnic groups, languages and walks of life. Similarly, Nigerian Pidgin English is not also mentioned in the constitution of the country. Kenya has Swahili as the national language (and recently also as of¿cial language) and English as the of¿cial language (see Meierkord, this volume). For some postcolonial countries, no clear distinction is made between the labels of¿cial language and national language so that the ex-colonial language plays both roles. Table 1 plots out these common assumptions held about postcolonial communities at the level of identity construction or attribution, and identi¿es some

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Eric A. Anchimbe

current trends found in them. Focus in the table is on three variables: historical, linguistic, and communicative variables. The three variables idealised in Table 1 show the relationship between colonially-inspired conceptualisations of postcolonial life and the realities of these communities. The current statuses of postcolonial communities represented in Table 1 defy any further defence of the binaries or dichotomies that place them at the periphery. Indigenous languages as well as pidgins and creoles now enjoy overt prestige and are performing lingua franca roles. Multilingualism is not, after all the political scare, a source of national disintegration. Indigenous languages are now used as medium of education in primary schools and are hence no longer primitive. As asked earlier, how apt is it to continue treating English, French, and Portuguese as foreign or second languages in postcolonial communities when these have been signi¿cantly nativised and so reÀect the local ecologies of the communities and their members? Are they still second or foreign language varieties even now that substantial numbers of native speakers exist for them? (Anchimbe 2008). Does English or French link people better than Pidgin English does? Why should one be the lingua franca and the other a language for wider communication? Answering these questions entails adopting emic rather etic approaches and frameworks that work from within the communities and not through hawk-eye evaluations. This is because as Bartels and Wiemann (2007: ix) say “Whoever attempts to hold the ‘total planet’ in his/her gaze will lose sight of people and other singularities”. Losing sight of singularities of speci¿c postcolonial contexts may trigger misrepresentations of their realities and, it may be argued that, such a loss opens the way for the use of foreign or estranged frameworks. Generally speaking, the linguistic issue in some postcolonial contexts has resulted in victimisation. Some languages have been presented as being more equal than others and are, therefore, dictating the pace at which upward social mobility, access to markets and jobs, access to public communication, and progress in education take place. Indigenous languages and pidgins constitute the set of languages not desired in public space or that must be avoided if the politically correct image of the country is to be portrayed. These countries are still named using linguistic signals linked to colonialism, e.g. anglophone Caribbean, francophone Africa, or lusophone countries, and never as Bantuphone, Swahiliphone or Yorubaphone. In spite of this, these communities have evolved in speci¿c ways that defy the colonial stereotypes; some of them illustrated in Table 1.

Postcolonial linguistic voices: Identity choices and their representations

11

Table 1. Postcolonial realities and binaries Variables

Identity features

Current trends & statuses

1. Historical variable Î Coloniser vs. colonised

– imposed identity – non-negotiable – civilised vs. uncivilised Æ but contested and challenged

– independence & nationhood – mix of identities (Anchimbe 2007) – religion & Bible translation (Israel, this volume) – identity opportunism, Àuctuation, & identity alignment (Lim & Ansaldo 2007)

2. Linguistic – prestige vs. primitivity – written indigenous languages variable Î – upward social mobility have prestige Colonial language vs. – non-native speakers of – social classes are less rigid indigenous language colonial languages – native speakers of new Englishes exist (Anchimbe 2008) 3. Communication – languages of wider variable Î communication international vs. local – colonial languages as lingua francas – bilingualism and multilingualism – hybrid/mixed languages

3.

– local languages are also lingua francas (Ssempuuma, this volume) – multilingual structures are bene¿cial and representative (Bokamba 2007) – now include use of two or more indigenous languages – Pidgins, creoles & bilingual mixed languages have social prestige (Sheng, Camfranglais)

Researching postcolonial plurilingualism: Emic or etic approaches

The need for emically informed approaches for the study of postcolonial communities has been invoked several times. Though etically based investigations somehow resolve the observer paradox, avoiding the emic and relying on etic approaches alone is not very productive. Of course, readers would bene¿t more from an etic investigation if its ¿ndings were corroborated by emic investigations. Franz Boas, the German-American anthropologist, had made a similar appeal at the turn of the last century when he declared that “the internal structure of [postcolonial] languages and societies must be allowed to emerge on their own, without the distorting imposition of European templates upon them” (Franz Boas, Handbook of American Indian Languages).

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Eric A. Anchimbe

For instance, Africa’s multilingualism has often been described on a par with European multilingualism. This is theoretically misleading because whereas European multilingualism involves several written languages, the African context predominantly involves only one (or two) written languages existing alongside oral languages founded on oral cultures and transmitted orally. It is about time more emic and community-based investigations were made that handle postcolonial areas not as being on the fringes of the West but as constituting centres of their own. Uchechukwu’s chapter (10) makes this evident as it calls for a local target audience for the work of African (or Nigerian) lexicographers working on African languages.

4.

This volume: Looking inside the postcolony and beyond

As mentioned earlier, this volume puts together research on some topical sociolinguistic aspects of postcolonial countries in Africa and Asia. It seeks to identify some of the major changes in postcolonial national and social life that could be traced to the contact between the local population and colonial institutions. Focus here is on intercultural multilingual communication, translation of religious dogmas into indigenous languages, the emergence of indigenised varieties of colonial languages, and the construction and representation of linguistic, national and social identities. In a way, it attempts to stitch together several linguistic voices of postcolonial societies in a bid to arrive at a whole that represents them as they are and not as foreign European-based theories and perspectives seem to have represented them in the last several decades. The book also gives a rare glimpse of the other side of the coin, i.e. how coloniser nations today deal with their role in colonialism and immigrants from ex-colonised nations in their countries. The aim is to show a balanced picture of the extent of colonial contact; how it changed not only the colonised regions but also how it is inÀuencing or affecting the coloniser regions. From the complex mix of peoples and languages in these (post)colonial settings, it is expected that patterns of communication (choice of language, linguistic victimisation, etc.), language policies, and linguistic identities would be complex as well – determined at various levels by multilingual discourses, globalising trends, and the delicate interaction of written (ex)colonial languages and oral local cultures and languages. This collection is not concerned with traditional issues of multilingualism, such as minority vs. majority language, second language acquisition, or endangerment of indigenous languages by of¿cial languages. These have been succinctly investigated in works on both ex-colonial and non-colonial contexts. The volume goes further to situate the

Postcolonial linguistic voices: Identity choices and their representations

13

current impact of the mix of cultures, languages, and sociopolitical systems created by colonialism on the present state of affairs in postcolonial countries. Nevertheless, focusing on postcolonial contexts gives us a unique chance to evaluate from fresh perspectives how multilingualism, code-switching, language policies, linguistic identities, religion, and cultural translations in these contexts differ from theoretical samples designed on Europe or the West. How stable are linguistic identities built on several competing languages? Did the atrocities of colonialism create resentment for ex-colonial languages like English, French and Portuguese? Why do people in postcolonial nations continue to construct linguistic identities on these ex-colonial languages when there are hundreds of indigenous languages in these areas? How is religion represented through local languages? Are religious concepts construed differently when translated into, or spread through, indigenous languages? These questions shed light on the patterns of linguistic behaviour and the sociolinguistic choices in interpersonal and interethnic or intergroup communication and representation in these multilingual postcolonial communities. The chapters collected here have been grouped into ¿ve thematic parts. Each of these parts seeks to answer some of the questions posed above. In a bid to facilitate understanding of the thematic strands, the next sections discuss them in greater detail and show their relevance to future studies of postcolonial linguistics and related sociohistorical processes. 4.1.

Postcolonial identities: Age, gender, ethnicity, and language

Given the advances in technology and movement of people today, it is very possible to hear the postcolonial voice almost everywhere – whether in its ancestral home or far beyond the waves in the coloniser’s backyard. What this means is that various indigenous linguistic patterns, whether in the postcolonial or in the coloniser communities, have been bound to change. These changes have affected the construction of identities: i.e. the languages on which identities are constructed, the strategies through which this takes place, the ethnic and/or social groups involved in such constructions, politeness strategies and their social representations, and conceptions of culture and gender roles. All of these taken together, there has been some form of a merger of aspects of the global and the local into a hybrid or perhaps still hybridising culture. There are also competing conceptualisations about the values from the indigenous and non-indigenous cultures. This part of the book handles these topics from various sociolinguistics perspectives. In chapter 2, Christiane Meierkord explains that, for social reasons rather than exclusively linguistic ones, the youth in the rich neighbourhoods of Nai-

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Eric A. Anchimbe

robi have adopted Engsh – a combination of English and Swahili on an English syntactic base – as a status dialect for their social identity. Implicitly, it represents those people who do not ¿t into the social identity group formed around Sheng – Swahili and English on a Swahili base structure. Drawing on both local and global linguistic elements, Engsh speakers carve for themselves an identity as urban, modern, city-dwellers, and this is accentuated by their extensive use of expressions from American English. In chapter 3 on gender and cultural identity in Botswana, Sibonile Edith Ellece presents the voices of the traditionalists in their desire to maintain the man on top of the family rising above those of the ‘progressivists’ as they call for modernisation and gender equality in marriage. Creating equality in the home, the traditionalists argue, could result in breakdown in the chain of responsibility. For the progressivists, equality is part of the modern trend and safeguards the rights of the woman. Ellece identi¿es several topoi in the argumentation strategies of the two groups involved in the television debate on which the chapter is based. The data were collected in Setswana, a major local language in Botswana. Identifying Cameroon as an odd member in the postcolonial binary of excolonial language vs. indigenous languages discussed earlier on, Eric A. Anchimbe in chapter 4 illustrates the creation of a Cameroon anglophone identity based on the commonality of the English Language. This identity group is pitted against the francophone group built on the common use of French. The social disputes between these two groups are played out on various scenes: in the parliament, in newspapers, on the street, in government of¿ces, and on the internet. 4.2.

Nationhood discourses: Language, policy and politics

As has been said many times, multilingualism in Africa did not begin with colonialism (Makoni and Meinhof 2003, Anchimbe 2007). Rather colonialism only added to this multilingual base structure written languages which modi¿ed the balance between the languages that existed there. It also confounded these languages into political structures called nations within which power depended on various differing factors: political strength, educational level, numerical advantage, etc. The lasting or ongoing effect of this is the search for equality of some kind between the languages, the continuous victimisation of some languages or their speakers, clustering of people around given languages in a bid to counter the power of other languages and their speakers, and the emergence of strong languages as lingua francas through this struggle for equality.

Postcolonial linguistic voices: Identity choices and their representations

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In chapter 5, Gregório Firmino questions the choice of Portuguese as the language that ensures nationhood and integration in Mozambique. As he explains, the “language question” in Mozambique is not solely a matter of choosing either Portuguese or indigenous languages but also of understanding the dynamic process through which the different languages are institutionalised within the society. However, in spite of the empowerment of Portuguese over the years, Firmino concludes that the language is adopting an indigenous Àavour that sets it within the local ecology of Mozambique. From a similar perspective, Jude Ssempuuma illustrates in chapter 6 the emergence of Luganda as a lingua franca over other indigenous languages and even English. With evidence from several contemporary contexts, he shows that Luganda is now extensively learned and used as a second language by non-native speakers and is hence fast encroaching into some of the domains reserved for the of¿cial language, English. The rise of Luganda defeats the common postcolonial dichotomy described above and further shows how blurred and unsustainable postcolonial binaries have become (or have actually always been). Stephen A. Mforteh takes the discussion into political discourse in chapter 7. In his study of political speeches by an opposition leader (John Fru Ndi) and a president (Paul Biya) in Cameroon, he describes the different roles and identities politicians adopt in their speeches in a bid to stay closer to their followers, invite them to take socio-political action, and/or to ridicule or discredit political opponents. Both politicians use the strategy of intro-interaction in which they present their monologues in the form of dialogue; asking the questions and at the same time giving the answers. 4.3.

Translating the postcolonial: Religion and lexicography

The expression Postcolonial Translation (Bassnett and Trevidi 1999) has been around now for a while and is not new in contemporary research. Its focus has moved from Bible translations into creoles, pidgins and indigenous languages around the world to all forms of translations involving postcolonial texts and discourses. As Mühleisen (2001: 248) says, “Bible translation has at all times featured prominently in the spread of the Christian message and, one might even argue, without it there might not be a distinct Christian religion”. Just as spreading the gospel met with several obstacles in the form of competing traditions and non-believing converts, the translation process also had obstacles of its own. Some of these obstacles have persisted today and condition the way Christians in postcolonial contexts approach the message. Translation of the postcolonial, as this part of this book conceives of it, does not only concern the

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representation of written signs in one language in another but also and especially the transmission of concepts and symbols in the coloniser’s Christian and educational system into the local space and its languages. As Hephzibah Israel explains in chapter 8, in order to signal the superiority of the Christian God over Tamil or Indian gods, Christian missionaries in South India had to choose terms or create terms in their translations of the Bible that suggested such a superiority. Based on translations of the Bible into Tamil, this chapter describes the ways in which Protestant Christian missionaries used existing sacred registers of the Tamil language to promote Protestant Christianity as the only ‘true’ religion whose God is superior to Tamil gods. In chapter 9, Folorunso Odidiomo revisits the religious theme several centuries later, this time in Nigeria, with the aim of ¿nding out if Christians who listen to the gospel in Yoruba and those who follow in English show any signi¿cant differences at the level of mental imaging of certain religious concepts like prayer (in English) and àdúrà (in Yoruba). The conceptual differences he discovers show that Yoruba worshippers have more practical understandings of prayers (e.g. as staff of war against the devil) than the English worshippers who tend to be more abstract (e.g. as means of communication with God). This, therefore, prioritises emic descriptions of patterns of religiosity in particular and in general patterns of communication and representation in postcolonial communities. Another form of ‘translating the postcolonial’ is through what Chinedu Uchechukwu studies in chapter 10, i.e. the lexicography of the local language but rather for the foreigner (and very often by the foreigner). The history of Igbo lexicography shows that whether by native speaker or non-native foreign, missionary or intellectual translators, the central target readers of most bilingual dictionaries has been non-natives, especially, Christian missionaries, colonial ¿eld workers and foreign expert linguists. He calls for a move towards ‘native culture lexicography’ that targets the native speakers. 4.4.

Living the postcolonial: Local tongues in ex-colonial languages

Ex-colonial languages, especially English, have been extensively described as indigenising or nativising into communities in which they were transplanted during or before colonialism. Indigenisation is proof that the local population owns the languages and dictates their evolution and standards within the community as well as their uses. Again, indigenisation makes these languages to become indigenous, hence no longer ‘neutral’ as they have been (erroneously) claimed to be. Linguistic identities are, therefore, built on them, and speakers use them in ways suitable to them and their society rather than as they are

Postcolonial linguistic voices: Identity choices and their representations

17

spoken beyond their borders, i.e. in the former coloniser country. The chapters in this section deal with English in three communities: Hong Kong, Taiwan and Cameroon. More on this line of argument could be found in chapter 5 on Mozambican Portuguese. In chapter 11, David C.S. Li studies the strong presence of English in Chinese-English code-switching by university students. He reports ¿ndings of a code-switching experiment in Hong Kong and Taiwan which indicate that referential meaning across languages cannot be assumed to be constant. Rather, as he documents, switching to and from a new language, especially in academic jargon and technical terms learned in one language, could be due to the recurrence of that language as medium of education; in this case English introduced over years of colonialism. Bonaventure M. Sala takes up the issue of ethnic accents of English in Cameroon in chapter 12 by providing a re-analysis of two very noticeable features of Lamnso’ speakers’ English pronunciation. The stigma placed on this accent has made Lamnso’ speakers to suffer linguistic victimisation. The emergence of ethnic varieties of ex-colonial languages indicates the extent to which indigenisation has taken place. 4.5.

Colonising the coloniser: Ex-colonialist discourses and immigration

Diaspora communities of people from former colonial nations are found in many parts of the world. Most of these are in the former coloniser countries. A number of studies have shown how these diasporas grow, interact with each other, reconstruct the home abroad, and how they are accepted and integrated into the host nation (Mühleisen 2002, Mair 2003). Focus in this part is on immigrant communities and how the coloniser countries cope with them, and how the colonisers represent their own role in colonialism. One of the immigrant communities studied here is not in its ex-coloniser country but in a country that had no colonial links with its country – the Igbo (Nigerians) in Padua (Italy). Its inclusion in this volume is to show the expanding conceptions of the postcolonial diaspora, which is no longer limited to speci¿c colonially-linked destinations. In these conceptions, Europe is an entity almost equal to the coloniser nation, since all colonisers in Africa were Europeans. Do the coloniser countries feel haunted by the atrocities committed during colonialism to the point that it could be said that they have now been colonised by the waves of immigrants within their borders? Do they feel any need to represent themselves differently or better than colonial records portray them? The three chapters in this part focus on the sanitising presentation of coloniallyrelated acts and terms in Danish monolingual dictionaries, the place of Cape

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Verdean Creole in the lives of young Cape Verdeans and their Portuguese peers in Lisbon, and the choice of language and identity negotiation by the Igbo immigrant community in Padua, Italy. In chapter 13, Antje Lann Hornscheidt illustrates how Denmark is coping with its involvement in colonialism. Although Denmark held colonies in the West Indies, West Africa and South India and is responsible for shipping at least 97,000 people as slaves from West Africa between the 17th and early 20th century, its role in the Slave Trade and colonialism has often not been as ampli¿ed as that of Britain and France. To keep this thus, this chapter describes some of the sanitisation strategies monolingual Danish dictionaries have used to rede¿ne and reformulate meanings of words that are directly linked to these two sad events in human history: the Slave Trade and colonialism. These words are given vague meanings, positive meanings, and neutral connotations while some are not included in the dictionaries at all. This is a way of exonerating the country of its involvement. From a completely different and more encompassing perspective, Portuguese youths in Lisbon, Christina Märzhäusler explains in chapter 14, are more receptive to, and treat as status symbol, the Cape Verdean Creole spoken by their immigrant peers of Cape Verdean origin. As the Cape Verdean immigrants construct an identity on Creole, they feel in it a link to the ancestral home, and as they see the interest shown in it (e.g. in Creole Rap music) by Portuguese youths, they ¿nd themselves in a rather hybrid state – which, of course, is not new for second and third generation diasporic or immigrant communities. Creole, therefore, is not only an in-group code for them but also a status symbol for their peers as they follow the emerging rap music played in it. Code-switching de¿nitely is part of the immigrant integration process but, as Francesco Goglia investigates communication among the Igbo in Padua in chapter 15, it could sometimes go beyond the common frames or specimens. His Igbo respondents code-switched between several languages including Igbo, English, Nigerian Pidgin English, and the Veneto dialect. The use of a local or regional dialect is generally not common in immigrant communities. Although Italy never colonised Nigeria the Igbo diaspora community has installed itself strongly in this region. Chapter 16, the conclusion, revisits some of the main issues discussed in the chapters of this book and traces the way forward for future research based on emic perspectives and the internal structures of especially postcolonial communities. Stepehn A. Mforteh brings together the ex-coloniser and the ex-colonised in the continuous multilingualisation of previously highly monolingual communities and the revision of certain conceptualisations, among them the binaries referred to above.

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In all, most of the perspectives highlighted in the ¿ve parts of this book, i.e. postcolonial identity construction, multilingualism in nationhood, translation, and immigration, carry various projections of postcolonial linguistic voices. Though there seems to be some good degree of unison in these voices, to grasp the message each of them projects, we need to adopt approaches that pay attention to their internal structures. This collection does this but also studies some of these communities in their micro interactional activities and behaviour. It is our intention that more studies follow with even more profound descriptions. This could be under the banner of analytical frameworks like postcolonial pragmatics (Anchimbe and Janney 2011), creole pragmatics (Mühleisen and Migge 2005), and postcolonial linguistics.

References Anchimbe, Eric A. 2005 Anglophonism and francophonism: The stakes of (of¿cial) language identity in Cameroon. Alizés: Revue Angliciste de la Réunion 25/26: 7 – 26. Anchimbe, Eric A. 2006 Cameroon English: Authenticity, Ecology and Evolution. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. Anchimbe, Eric A. 2008 Giving English-speaking tongues a name. Issues in Intercultural Communication 2(1): 29 – 44. Anchimbe, Eric A. (ed.) 2007 Linguistic Identity in Postcolonial Multilingual Spaces. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Anchimbe, Eric A. and Richard W. Janney (eds.) 2011 Postcolonial Pragmatics. Special Issue Journal of Pragmatics 43(6). Anzaldúa, Gloria 1987 Borderlands / La Frontera: The New Mestiza. 2nd ed. San Francisco: Aunt Lute Books. Bartels, Anke and Dirk Wiemann 2007 Global fragments: An introduction. In Bartels, Anke and Dirk Wiemann (eds.), Global Fragments: (Dis)Orientation in the New World Order. Amsterdam: Rodopi. ix – xvii. Bassnett, Susan and Harish Trevidi 1999 Post-colonial Translation: Theory and Practice. London: Routledge. Biloa, Edmond 2004 Langue française au Cameroun: Analyse linguistique et didactique. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang.

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Boas, Franz 1911

Handbook of American Indian Languages. Vol. 1. Washington: Bureau of American Ethnology. Bokamba, Eyamba G. 2007 Arguments for multilingual policies in African public domains. In: Anchimbe, Eric A. (ed.), pp. 27 – 65. Canagarajah, Suresh A. 2005 Dilemmas in planning English/vernacular relations in postcolonial communities. Journal of Sociolinguistics 9(3): 418 – 447. DeGraf, Michel 2003 Against Creole exceptionalism. Language 79(2): 391 – 410. Farquharson, Joseph T. 2007 Folk linguistics and post-colonial language politricks in Jamaica. In: Anchimbe, Eric A., pp. 248 – 264. García, Ofelia 2009 Bilingual Education in the 21st Century: A Global Perspective. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell. Higgins, Christina 2009 English as a Local Language: Post-colonial Identities and Multilingual Practices. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Hinrichs, Lars 2006 Codeswitching on the Web: English and Jamaican Creole in E-mail Communication. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Kachru, Braj B. 1985 Standards, codi¿cation, and sociolinguistic realm: The English language in the outer circle. In: Quirk, Randolph and Henry G. Widdowson (eds.), English in the World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 11 – 30. Kouega, Jean-Paul 2007 A Dictionary of Cameroon English Usage. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. Lim, Lisa and Umberto Ansaldo 2007 Identity alignment in the multilingual space: The Malays of Sri Lanka. In: Anchimbe, Eric A. (ed.), pp. 218 – 243. Mair, Christian 2003 Language, code, and symbol: The changing roles of Jamaican Creole in diaspora communities. Arbeiten aus Anglistik und Amerikanistik 28: 231 – 48. Makoni, Sinfree and Ulrike H. Meinhof 2003 Introducing applied linguistics in Africa. AILA Review 16: 1 – 12. Mufwene, Salikoko S. 2001 The Ecology of Language Evolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Mulo Farenkia, Bernard 2008 De docteur à docta: Créativité lexicale et adresse nominale en français camerounais. Linguistica Atlantica 29: 25 – 50. Mühleisen, Susanne 2001 “How is that we hear in our own languages the wonders of God?” Vernacular Bible translations in colonial and postcolonial contexts. In: Stilz, Gerhard (ed.), Colonies – Missions – Cultures. Tübingen: Stauffenburg Verlag. 247 – 263. Mühleisen, Susanne 2002 Creole Discourse: Exploring Prestige Formation and Change across Caribbean English-Lexicon Creoles. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Mühleisen, Susanne and Bettina Migge (eds.) 2005 Politeness and Face in Caribbean Creoles. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Nsom, Kini 2004 Row in parliament as MP says Jua is Nigerian. The Post Online News, Monday, 20 December 2004. www.postnewsline.com/2004/12/ strongrow_in_pa.html#more. Accessed July 5th, 2005. Pennycook, Alastair 2007 Global Englishes and Transcultural Flows. London: Routledge. Schneider, Edgar W. 2007 Postcolonial English: Varieties around the World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Simo Bobda, Augustin 1994 Aspects of Cameroon English Phonology. Berne: Peter Lang. Wolf, Hans-Georg 2001 English in Cameroon. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.

Part I. Postcolonial identities: Age, gender, ethnicity, and language

Chapter 2 U r ma treasure bila measure Identity construction in Kenya’s multilingual spaces Christiane Meierkord

1.

Introduction

Over the last decades, speech communities have increasingly been inÀuenced by languages previously spoken outside the community. In post-colonial nation states, this is mainly a result of earlier Western colonial expansion and the colonial powers’ imposition of borders which often respected neither cultural nor linguistic realities. A more recent development is the spread of English via music and ¿lms through the radio, television, and the internet. Many post-colonial nations have established a multilingual language policy, which promotes several languages as national or of¿cial languages or as media of instruction, to account for the ensuing linguistic variability. As a result, English is part of the linguistic repertoire of many of these countries and the individuals living in them. What these multilingual contexts have in common is that individuals can draw on the various languages to meet their diverse communicative needs and to construct their identities. However, multilingualism in these settings is a very heterogeneous phenomenon. Part of the population commands both local languages and English, albeit often at different levels of competence. For others, multilingualism may involve pro¿ciency in several local languages, for example, Maasai and Kikuyu in Kenya. In all individuals’ linguistic performance, such language contact ¿nds expression in the form of borrowing and transfer: lexical items, but also sound patterns and grammatical structures are transported from one language into the other. As far as English is concerned, there is borrowing and transfer at all levels of the linguistic system, including the discourse level. This is characteristic of the New Englishes spoken in post-colonial nations. These characteristics reveal that the New Englishes are “adapted to local or regional linguistic conditions” (Bokamba 1982: 92). The English language has been indigenised, or “altered so suit its new African surroundings” (Achebe 1975: 62), and it acquires cultural identity through Africanisation (Kachru 2001: 523).

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Besides the development of indigenised Englishes, language contact also results in code-switching, code-mixing, and mixed languages. When codeswitching and code-mixing, speakers alternate between two or more languages for social, situational, or stylistic purposes. Whereas this is optional in code-switching and code-mixing, mixing is obligatory in mixed languages (cf. Muysken 2001: 481). In this case “the presence of elements from two languages marks the resulting language as reÀecting a double identity” (Muysken 2001: 482; see also Golovko 2003: 191). Mixed languages are created by bilinguals and arise “within a single social or ethnic group because of a desire, or perhaps even a need, for an in-group language” (Thomason 2001: 198). As Webb and Kembo-Sure (2000: 41) point out, they develop “mainly due to intense language contact, which results from urbanization and industrialization, as well as migrant labour.” In Kenya, multilingualism with English has resulted in an endonormative variety: Kenyan English. Furthermore, two mixed languages, Sheng and Engsh, have arisen over the last decades. Sheng has existed since the 1960s and has mainly been associated with the slum areas of Nairobi. By contrast, Engsh is the label which has been given to a recent linguistic development in Nairobi’s more afÀuent neighbourhoods in the Parklands and Westlands. This chapter describes how Engsh reÀects young Kenyans’ drawing on the various languages and varieties thereof to construct their identity. Following a description of Kenyans’ linguistic repertoire, it utilises Mufwene’s (2001) model of the linguistic “feature pool”1 to account for the factors which determine the input to the “feature pool” as well as the processes which constrain selection from the competing features. Engsh is then presented as a new code which has resulted from young Kenyans’ choices from the competing features of various forms of English and other languages available to them. These choices are illustrated in an empirical section, in which I analyse Engsh as used in Kenyan magazines and newspapers.

1. Although the model was originally devised to explain the restructuring processes taking place in the formation of pidgins and creoles, it has the potential to serve as a starting point for explanations of a variety of contexts where speakers of different languages or varieties meet and interact, and where a form of language emerges that has not existed prior to these speakers’ interactions.

U r ma treasure bila measure

2.

The linguistic ecology of Kenya

2.1.

Kenya’s sociolinguistic pro¿le

27

According to Webb and Kembo-Sure (2000: 47), Kenya has a population of approximately 24 million and is home to 42 languages. The languages largely correspond to the 40 ethnic groups plus Kiswahili and English, and several of them have a sizeable number of speakers: Kikuyu (spoken by 20% of the population), Dholuo (spoken by 14%), Luluya (spoken by 13%), Kikamba (spoken by 11%), Kalenjin (also spoken by 11%), Ekigusi (spoken by 6.5%), and Kimeru (spoken by 5% of the population). Kiswahili has a long history as a lingua franca in the area, and it had already been present as such for several centuries, when English was introduced to the area in the 19th century (cf. Michieka 2005: 176). Following the establishment of trade with the region, British settlers arrived at the time, though not in large numbers. Nevertheless, the inÀuence of the English language was considerable, since it was soon used in administration, in law, and in the many institutions of education which the British established (cf. Zuengler 1982, Mazrui and Mazrui 1996, and more recently Michieka 2005). Following independence, Kenya chose to use Kiswahili as the country’s national language and English as the of¿cial language of administration, law, and higher education. For many Kenyans, this array of languages implies that they can potentially draw on all of these various resources to conduct their communicative activities depending on situational demands. The quote below illustrates what this might look like for one young Kenyan: An urban Kenyan boy will wake up on a Sunday morning and use his mother tongue (maybe Kikuyu, Dholuo, Suba, Maasai, or Tugen) with his family, go out to buy bread from a nearby shop and use Kiswahili to negotiate the purchase with the vendor. On his way home from the kiosk, he meets a friend with whom he might speak Sheng, or a mixture of Sheng, Kiswahili, and English. After breakfast, he goes to church, where the service may be in English or Kiswahili, depending on the socio-economic status of the family and the surrounding community. At school the next day, he speaks English in all his lessons except for the Kiswahili lesson. On the playground, depending on the type of school he attends, he uses Kiswahili and English. If it is a high-cost private school, the usual playground language is English, whereas at the less expensive public schools it may be either English or Kiswahili. When he goes to the headmaster’s of¿ce, the boy may use Kiswahili to address the secretary, but he will certainly speak English to the headmaster. (Webb and Kembo-Sure 2000: 100)

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However, it is largely privileged individuals who command English in the different forms it assumes in Kenya and abroad to such an extent that they can choose from a wide spectrum of linguistic features and select those features which they consider suitable to construct their identities. In fact, the linguistic repertoire of a Kenyan individual “is largely determined by the speaker’s ethnic background (which usually correlates with regional origin), social and economic status, and educational achievement” (Skandera 2003: 18). Webb and Kembo-Sure (2000: 47) estimate that approximately 16% of Kenyans know English as a second language. English is “assumed to be of little importance” (Skandera 2003: 19) for those 90% of the Kenyan population who live outside of the larger Kenyan cities, although Kenyans who have attended school will generally have some knowledge of English, since the educational system uses English as a medium of instruction from year four onwards. Since “English is acquired only through the educational system” (Kanyoro 1991: 415, see also Michieka 2005), it implies that for most Kenyans access to the language is predominantly restricted to the input they receive from their teachers. 2.2.

Kenyan English

Kenyan English (KenE) enjoys overt prestige in the country (cf. Kembo-Sure 1991). The endonormative variety of English which has developed in Kenya has commonly been subsumed under the label East African English (EAfE; however, Abdulaziz (1991: 396) notes that there exists a certain “ease with which one can distinguish KenE from Tanzanian English today”). It is characterised by a reduced vowel system, a tendency of diphthongs to be replaced by monophthongs, and a merger of the sounds /r/ and /l/ to a sound intermediate between the two at the pronunciation level (cf. Trudgill and Hannah 2002, Schmied 2004a). The following features are held to characterise EAfE (cf. Schmied 2004b) at the level of morphosyntax2:

2. However, Skandera (1999 and 2003) indicates that KenE has not yet been studied in suf¿cient detail, and that existing lists of features, therefore, need to be interpreted with caution. Furthermore, in contrast to the general trend to accept the above features as characteristic of KenE, Buregeya (2006) points out that several of these morphosyntactic features are not held to be acceptable by university-educated Kenyan speakers of English. Others, by contrast, indicate tolerance of syntactic deviation from the traditional British English norm. For example, the plural with non-count nouns as in the equipments have cost is rated as acceptable by 61% of Buregeya’s informants, and majority of people… even by 96%.

U r ma treasure bila measure

29

– There is a tendency to regularise verb endings, such as 3rd person singular present tense morpheme or irregular past tense forms. – The progressive form is frequently extended to stative verbs and is also used in contexts where it does not imply a progressive meaning: It is really very toxic to the user because it produces a lot of smoke heavy smoke and it is smelling. (Schmied 2004b: 930) – Phrasal and prepositional verbs frequently follow patterns different from those used in British Standard English, e.g. to discuss about or to deprive from (Schmied 2004b: 931). – Verb complementation varies as in the following example: Would you mind to tell us uh a brief background about ICAC and uh what uh are you going to discuss in Arusha. (Schmied 2004b: 931) – Noun phrases are not necessarily marked for number and case, and the use of the –s plural may be extended to non-countables, e.g. luggages. – Articles and other determiners may be omitted. Male and female pronouns are used indiscriminately, and prepositions are employed differently from Standard British English. Adverbs are often not marked as such, i.e. the –ly suf¿x is missing, and question tags tend to occur in an invariant isn’t it form. At the level of the lexicon, KenE is, as all second language varieties of English, characterised by borrowings from the indigenous local languages and from Kiswahili, such as boma (‘enclosure’, Kiswahili), ndugu (‘brother’, Kiswahili), or suma (‘cornmeal paste’, Kiswahili). Indigenous words may also form part of hybrid compounds, e.g. magendo whisky (‘black-market whisky’). Furthermore, loan translations, e.g., clean heart (‘pure’) or elephant ears (‘big ears’, someone, who does not listen) are pervasive. Frequently, the meaning of individual lexical items has been extended beyond its original meaning in British English, as is the case with medicine (referring to chemicals at large), dry coffee (‘coffee without milk or sugar’) or come with as in I will come with the Kitenge (‘I will bring the women’s cloth’).3 However, KenE cannot necessarily be conceived of as a homogeneous variety. From Kanyoro’s (1991) observation that speakers of Bantu languages reveal different characteristic features in their form of English from those observed with speakers of Luo, it emerges that there might even exist distinct Kenyan Englishes. Whereas a lack of distinction between /r/ and /l/ is characteristic for mother tongue speakers of Bantu languages, the replacement of the post-alveolar fricatives /6/ and /=/ by alveolar fricatives /s/ and /z/ is associated with mother tongue Luo speakers, due to the inÀuence of their different mother 3. All examples in this paragraph have been taken from McArthur (2000).

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Christiane Meierkord

tongues (cf. Schmied 1991a and 1991b).4 And Schmied (1991a: 177) states that African speakers use particular linguistic features “to identify themselves with and dissociate themselves from language groups with whom these features are associated.” Usually these features have become markers of group af¿liation and signal identity as e.g. a Luo, a Kikuyu, a Kenyan, or an internationally successful individual. Whereas in Britain ‘dropping one’s aitches’ may not be fashionable, albeit an important feature of group solidarity, the same may apply to avoiding truly centrally pronounced central vowels, to neglecting vowel length distinctions, or even to ‘confusing’ ‘r’s and ‘l’s in Africa. (Schmied 1991a: 177)

2.3.

Other forms of English in Kenya, and inÀuence from outside of Kenya

Besides KenE, further forms of English have entered Kenya ever since the beginning of British colonisation. English is spoken not only by the black population but also by the descendants of British settlers or of those Indians who came to Kenya as indentured labourers (cf. Lal 2007). There are various outside inÀuences, such as the Englishes spoken by international business people and tourists, and immigrant Englishes. Recently, further varieties of English have also spread in the country through the use of the diverse media, increasingly through SMS-writing. American English has started to play an important role due to its presence in popular culture and on the internet. Especially in the urban centres of Kenya, the younger generations identify with what might be called a global hip-hop culture, which is transmitted via music but also by the promotional videos accompanying the individual songs and by interviews with hip-hop and rap artists. Lately, Americanised forms or even forms which originate from African American Vernacular English have also been found to occur frequently in SMSes (cf. Thurlow 2003, Frehner 2008)5. Besides English, 4. Luo belongs to the Nilotic language family. 5. The use of mobile phones has increased dramatically in African countries over the last years as Deumert and Masinyana (2008) point out, and there seems to exist “what one might call a global English SMS standard” (Deumert and Masinyana 2008: 117). The speci¿c conventions which have developed over the last decade or so are shaped both by the opportunities but also by the constraints which the new electronic media place on their users. As regards SMSes, it is certainly the limitation of messages to 160 characters or alterations to “Call me” messages, which network providers make available for free to their clients. SMSes are characterised by abbreviations of lexical items, for example wknd (‘weekend’), and phonological approximations such as dis (‘this’) and rite (‘right’, cf. Frehner 2008).

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members of the afÀuent middle class also encounter a variety of other non-local languages – not only through the media but also through deliberate, instructed language learning. 2.4.

The earlier mixed language: Sheng

Sheng emerged in the Eastern suburbs of Nairobi, probably in Kaloleni, approximately forty years ago (Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997: 47), or in Kibera (Mazrui 1995: 174). It has been described as slang or code-switching (Mazrui 1995), as a pidgin (Githiora 2002 and Shitemi 2002, but see Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997, who reject this view) and as a youth language (e.g. Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997), and it has been related to the secret language used by pickpockets in the 1930s (Mazrui 1995). Over time, Sheng has spread from Nairobi to most other urban areas of Kenya. Today, it is spoken and understood by people younger than forty years of all social classes, including university lecturers and students. Public opinion regarding Sheng is generally negative. However, rappers (for example the group Ukoo Fulani) enjoy great popularity across all social classes when performing in Sheng (cf. Githiora 2002), and several FM radio stations broadcast programmes in Sheng. In 2002, Sheng was even utilised in the election campaign, when the opposition turned the then fashionable song ‘Unbwogable’ into its campaign slogan (cf. Hillewaert 2006). And recently, the code has also made its way into literature, as for example in the magazine Kwani?, in which young and coming writers publish their work. In sum, Sheng “has permeated all levels of society and gained much media and scholarly attention such as letters to editors, newspaper columns, advertisements, of¿cial health warnings on AIDS, and so on” (Githiora 2002: 174). Further diffusion of Sheng via popular culture, local radio, television stations, and print media seems to be irreversible, partly due to the fact the code allows individuals living in the large multiethnic cities of Kenya “to articulate this collective urban experience” (Hillewaert 2006: 4). The grammatical structure of Sheng is based on Kiswahili, and its lexical items originate in Kiswahili, several indigenous Kenyan languages (e.g. Dholuo or Kikuyu) and English.6 The following example gives a ¿rst illustration of what Sheng looks like.

6. Some authors have pointed out that the morphosyntactic structures of Sheng (cf. Ogechi 2002: 1) as well as the precise origin of many of the individual lexical items (cf. Kang’ethe-Iraki 2004: 58) cannot be described unambiguously.

32

Christiane Meierkord Example 1 Woyee tichee usiniruande – buu ndio ilinileitisha. ‘Please teacher, do not beat me – I am late because of the bus.’ (Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997)

The sentence contains three lexical items which originated in English but have undergone changes: tichee, which is derived from teacher, buu, altered from bus, and leit in ilinileitisha from late7. As Kang’ethe-Iraki (2004: 57) explains, these alterations result from the fact that Sheng adapts borrowed items to the Kiswahili syllabic structure. As a result, bike, originally English, becomes baiki, and chokra, taken from Hindi, changes to chokora. Additionally, “borrowings can also be modi¿ed either by reducing the number of or inverting the syllables. For instance, Basketball, Nairobi, zamani (early), and Safari give rise to bake, Nai, zamo and safo.” The words zamo and safo also indicate a further particularity of Sheng. As Abdulaziz and Osinde (1997: 57) point out, “[s] me of the most preferred sounds are o, sh, ny, e, and i”, which give Sheng its uniqueness. “The sound o, perhaps from Dholuo inÀuence, is quite common; it normally simpli¿es dif¿cult pronunciation and gives words a Sheng quality.” Inversion is more subtle. Mother used to be matha in the 1960s. In the 1990s, another transformation occurred and matha mutated to masa, and ¿nally the two syllables were inverted to yield sama (Kang’ethe-Iraki 2004: 57). Table (1) presents a number of Sheng words which indicate the particular Àavour achieved by the various strategies discussed so far but also by semantic change. At the levels of morphology and syntax, Sheng also makes changes to the system of its underlying language Kiswahili. Kang’ethe-Iraki (2004) points out that verbs are frequently not marked for the past tense and that relative pronouns are often left out. Example (2) below reveals that, nonetheless, many of the Kiswahili morphemes are retained in Sheng. For example the possessive pronoun wa and the tense-aspect markers li (describing past events) and na (indicating that an event is happening at speech time)8.

7. The word form ilinileitisha is composed of six morphemes: i (‘it’) - li (‘past’) - ni (‘me’) - leit (‘late’) - ish (causative) - a (¿nal vowel) and can be translated as “it made me late” (cf. Bosire 2006: 187). 8. Cf. Kang’ethe-Iraki (2004: 63 and 61). DEM stands for demonstrative and TAM for tense-aspect marker.

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Table 1. Lexical strategies in Sheng9 Sheng Àavours Strategy and example

Original word

Meaning

Semantic change dedi

dead

‘¿nish’

Clipping tizi

practice

‘physical exercise in sports’

Syllable inversion dika

card

‘card’

Sound addition oparo

para para (Kiswahili)

‘road’

Example 2 Teacher wa-mine ndiyo a-li-kuwa a-na-tu-tell hizo storo. Teacher of mine DEM he-TAM-be he-TAM-us-tell those stories. ‘My teacher is the one who was telling us those stories.’ (Kangethe-Iraki 2004: 63)

The widespread use of Sheng has recently inÀuenced speakers in the upper social classes and affected the way they use English in another mixed code. In fact, this new code, Engsh, seems to draw on almost all the linguistic resources available to its users, albeit to various degrees of intensity. Before I analyse in detail how features from the various resources mix in Engsh, the next section approaches the issue from a theoretical angle.

3.

Linguistic choices in Kenya and Mufwene’s (2001) model

The co-existence of different languages, different forms of English, and English-mixed forms of language implies that, theoretically, interactions between speakers of these different codes occur. That is, in Kenya a speaker of KenE might interact with a speaker of Kenyan Indian English, a speaker of Sheng, a speaker of American English, a speaker of White Kenyan English,10 or a 9. Examples have been taken from Abdulaziz and Osinde (1997) and Kang’ethe-Iraki (2004). 10. This label has been chosen here to refer to British expatriates as well as descendants of the original British settlers, the exact number of which is unknown.

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Christiane Meierkord

speaker of one of the different immigrant or diaspora Englishes spoken in the country. Such interactions involve various Englishes and can be conceived of as Interactions across Englishes (IaE, cf. Meierkord 2004, 2005). Furthermore, linguistic inÀuence from outside of Kenya as well as from the various media seems to play a role, as indicated above. Potentially, all speakers could use the various features associated with their individual variety in such interactions. From a theoretical point, we can conceptualise the processes leading to this mixing of features as well as to the codes resulting from this mix by utilizing Mufwene’s (2001) model of a linguistic “feature pool”. Mufwene argues that the co-existence of codes implies encounters of their linguistic features, and that this results in competition among different features which have the same function. These could be lexical items that refer to the same referent or concepts (in the case of Kenya, e.g. bad eye and the evil eye), grammatical and lexical means to express tense relations (e.g. I used to work at the hotel versus Before, I work at the hotel), or phonetic variants of a phoneme (e.g. the use of a double monophthong [,D] instead of the centering diphthong [,]). When related to Mufwene’s model, the different varieties in Figure 1, or, rather, the features characterizing them, can be considered as providing the input to the “feature pool”. They compete in the pool, where they are available for selection into those varieties which eventually emerge out of the contact situation and become available for linguistic constructions of identity. Figure 1 illustrates the potential coexistence of features which perform the same function, and which at the same time are associated with particular groups Kenyan Indian English Kenyan English

American English

Sheng

▓

o / ●

▓

o●/ White Kenyan English

/o

Media

Figure 1. Interactions across Englishes in Kenya

Outside influence

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of speakers. Potentially, individuals can select features to signal their identity, i.e. which group they want to be associated with (in Figure 1, these features are represented by circles, squares, blocks, dots, stars and slashes). These choices will most often be subconscious but may also be the result of deliberate decisions. However, neither input to the pool nor selection from the ensuing pool of features is a process which can be easily described. 3.1.

Input to the feature pool

o

▓

o o o

▓

▓

▓

▓

Some individuals contributing to the “feature pool” may have various forms of English at their disposal. Schmied (1991b: 420) points out that “a Luo hotel manager may talk in basilectal English to his Kikuyu cleaners and in acrolectal English to his foreign guests.” The speaker may choose the form of English s/he uses in order to “suggest a distinct identity to the hearer” (Schmied 1991b: 420). Figure 2 shows that the features which contribute to the “feature pool” are not necessarily those which an individual uses on occasions different from IaE. It suggests that, for example, in an interaction with another speaker of the same local variety of English (e.g. KenE or Indian English), the speaker might choose to use features which s/he would discontinue to use in an international context.

Figure 2. Individual input to Kenya’s linguistic feature pool

The graphic symbols represent, for example, lexical items belonging to general English (†), borrowings from the indigenous languages into KenE (e.g. boma) (o), and loan translations such as clean heart (ŵ). The ¿gure indicates that the speaker commands two codes. In both of these, a large number of lexical items are shared by other varieties of English. However, in one code, s/he employs

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Christiane Meierkord

borrowings to a high extent and some loan translations. When the speaker uses the other code, loan translations are more frequent but borrowings are not used. For input to the pool, the speaker may choose the second code, as indicated in the arrow,11 or the ¿rst. Whereas some second language speakers will be able to make such deliberate decisions as regards vocabulary or grammatical choices, not all second language speakers will be able to choose those features which they input into the pool, since they may not command more than one form of English. Whilst the cities, and particularly their afÀuent parts, involve multilingual spaces, there is an enormous divide between urban and rural Kenya, as Michieka (2005) points out. Rural as well as disadvantaged urban areas are frequently deprived of suf¿cient resources when it comes to education, with teachers being scarce and classrooms overcrowded. Frequently, individuals in such contexts have no other model of English available to them besides their teacher. In addition, rural contexts are often characterised by a lack of electricity, meaning that access to media such as radio and television, both of which frequently provide input for informal language acquisition in postcolonial contexts, is highly restricted. Contexts like these have largely been neglected in recent accounts of language use in postcolonial contexts, which have tended to focus on urban areas. In addition, the pool may contain further features which the speakers come into contact with, e.g. via further varieties that they encounter in the media or in other settings (e.g. at the workplace or in school). In a privileged, though small, part of the Kenyan society, English is also accessed through the many Englishmedium newspapers (cf. Skandera 2003: 21), radio, television, Western movies and the internet (cf. Michieka 2005: 17 – 178). However, there are also those individuals who migrate to the urban centres where they interact with tourists. Often, their English is rudimentary and restricted to a number of phrases and chunks which only suf¿ce to meet their communicative needs, e.g. in sales transactions. 3.2.

Availability of the feature pool

Whatever the pool looks like, the sheer existence of a somewhat stable feature pool does not yet imply that this pool is available to everyone for selection from it. Certain features, which may characterise a form of English spoken somewhere in the world, may never become available for input, simply because they are used by individuals who do not interact with those individuals who eventually select from the “feature pool.” For example, a Kenyan living in a rural area 11. Of course, this is just one of several possible forms which the input may assume.

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of the country will most likely never encounter Fiji English, simply because it is unlikely that s/he will ever interact with a speaker of this variety. 3.3.

Individuals’ selections from the feature pool and emerging new forms

When a particular pool of features is available, it is ¿rst of all the individual interlocutors who will be the ones making choices from among the competing features. Potentially, the individual may choose from all the features available in the pool, including those which s/he is only passively familiar with (cf. Thomason 2001). From a language acquisition point of view, the features available in the pool provide input to the individuals’ selection process. For one of the features to eventually become selected, the individual needs to, ¿rst of all, notice the feature, which may be a conscious or unconscious process. In case an individual does not notice individual features, these are not available to her/ him for choice. Whether noticing is a necessary process has been hotly debated within the Second Language Acquisition paradigm. According to Krashen (1981), language acquisition is a largely subconscious process, and the role of conscious learning is to monitor or edit an unconsciously acquired structure. But Schmidt’s (1995: 20) “noticing hypothesis states that what learners notice in input is what becomes intake for learning.”12 And for Gass and Selinker (2001: 298), noticing or selective attention is “at the heart of the interaction hypothesis,” and, therefore, a crucial mechanism. In fact, several recent studies have substantiated the claim that noticing leads to intake in second language acquisition (cf. Lai and Zhao 2006 for an up-to-date summary). And for Slobin (1985: 1164) noticing is also signi¿cant in child ¿rst language acquisition: “the only linguistic material that can ¿gure in language-making are stretches of speech that attract the child’s attention to a suf¿cient degree to be noticed and held in memory.” This implies that noticing also plays a role in early childhood bilingualism, i.e. when children select from the “feature pool.” In his study on recent innovations in Gullah-Geechee and Middle Caicos Creole, Klein (2006, 2007) offers an integrative view. He assumes that, especially at the level of pronunciation, “speakers are not typically consciously aware of the exact nature of microlinguistic processes and structures,” but “people can recognize and are able to talk about microstructures when they are pointed out to them” (Klein 2007: 325). An additional complication arises with features which occur in writing only, or which occur both in writing and speaking, but whose function in writing is different from the one they perform in spoken English. Access to written 12. A concise presentation of his position is found in Schmidt (1990).

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Christiane Meierkord

features, as well as to particular functions of features in writing as opposed to speaking, requires that written English is present in an individual’s everyday life – for example in the form of textbooks, newspapers, or signboards. Again, there is a divide between afÀuent urban citizens, who have access to all of these, and the majority of Kenyans living in rural or deprived areas, where written input in English is restricted to the occasional signboard, and where even access to textbooks is often limited. Cognitively noticing a feature, however, does not imply that an individual will select it into her/his own linguistic performance. For example, a speaker may notice that others choose different features and hence use a different form of English. S/he may then decide to either continue using the features s/he has chosen to select or select a different feature instead. Her/his decision will be inÀuenced by the same constraints that were already mentioned in 3.1. That is, factors such as power relations, the variety of English used by the interlocutor, issues of identity construction, accommodation etc. may determine whether a noticed feature is deemed worthy of adoption into her/his own speaking style, both on an ad hoc as well as on a more prolonged basis. 3.4.

Conditions of selection in Kenya

In the Kenyan context, a speaker may opt to select features associated with different varieties of English or English-mixed codes depending on their overt and covert prestige. Overt prestige is associated with the endonormative variety of English which has developed in Kenya (cf. Kembo-Sure 1991). But although public opinion regarding Sheng is frequently negative, Hillewaert (2006: 5) sees the attraction of the code “in the simultaneous rejection and embrace of English and the vernacular by allowing the usage of both in one code.” When English is accessible in both its oral and written form, the written mode allows for repeated as well as delayed processing of its features. Being able to choose from among features which compete for selection into a written form of English requires, ¿rst of all, literacy. According to the CIA’s World Factbook, 85% of Kenyans are literate,13 meaning that at least 15% of the population does not have access to written forms of English.

13. This ¿gure is the Central Intelligence Agency’s 2003 estimate. It stands in sharp contrast to the 45% mentioned by The Ethnologue, based on the of¿cial government ¿gure from 1987.

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4.

Recent choices from Kenya’s linguistic feature pool: Engsh and its use in Kenya’s newspapers

4.1.

Engsh

Engsh has evolved more recently in the afÀuent Westlands and Parklands areas of Nairobi and is spoken by people who have a different social and economic status than those who use Sheng.14 Whereas Kibera and Kaloleni are typical slum areas, characterised by a lack of sanitation and electricity, poor housing conditions, poverty, and unemployment, the Westlands and Parklands are home to Nairobi’s middle class and display well appointed detached houses and abundant green areas. “The African children in these areas have English as their ¿rst and primary language of daily communication, at home, at school, and in social domains” and Engsh serves as “a class marker, which draws a distinction between itself and the lower-class Sheng” (Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997: 54). Contrary to what obtains in Sheng, the syntactic structure of Engsh is based on English (cf. Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997, Nzunga 2002, and Ogechi 2005) as example (3) illustrates. Example 3 U r ma treasure bila measure ‘You are my treasure without measure’

The example also reveals some of the particularities which are typical of Engsh at the lexical level. Just like Sheng does, Engsh incorporates lexical items from the local languages: The word bila (‘without’) has been borrowed from Kiswahili. However, there are also items from American slang and various other sources. Example (3) contains two instances of what has previously been found to characterise language use on the internet or in SMS writing: U stands for you, and r for are. Example (3) is easily understandable due to its mainly English lexical material, but example (4) is somewhat more dif¿cult to process.

14. Somewhat different, Githiora (2002: 174) refers to Engsh as slang, “the version of Nairobi English spoken by the upper classes.” Githinji (2006) points out that more data is needed on Engsh before precise statements regarding its linguistic status can be made.

40

Christiane Meierkord Example 4 Si you akina pass for mwa morrows in your wheels, we do a swallow at them vuras.15 ‘Come for me tomorrow in your car so that we can go for a drink at the Carnivore.’

The Kiswahili word Akina refers to the company one is keeping, mwa (from French moi) means ‘me’, the item morrows ‘tomorrow’, and them vuras refers to the Carnivore Restaurant, a popular restaurant and nightclub on the outskirts of Nairobi. The sentence also illustrates that speakers make changes to lexical items and grammatical structures of different languages when they borrow these into Engsh. The English word tomorrow has been abbreviated and the letter has been added at the end of the abbreviated word: morrows. The word wheels has undergone semantic change. In Standard English, wheel refers to ‘a circular frame of hard material that may be solid, partly solid, or spoked and that is capable of turning on an axle.’ However, it denotes ‘a car’ in the Engsh example. Similarly, the meaning of the noun swallow has changed from ‘an amount that can be swallowed at one time’ to ‘a drink’. The two examples indicate that Engsh draws from various sources and strategies for its lexical input. In the following section, I will describe how the different strategies are used in three weekend supplements to Kenya’s quality newspapers. 4.2.

Engsh in Kenya’s newspapers

The Daily Nation’s16 weekend edition, Sunday Nation, includes a pull-out called Buzz, and The Standard17 publishes the four-page pull-out Teen-Talk as well as its weekend magazine Pulse. Engsh does not occur in Buzz, but the pullout has Sheng on its back cover page. Teen Talk has both Sheng and Engsh on its back cover page. And in Pulse, Engsh occurs both in a column called Smitta Smitten’s on page 5 and in the various photo stories usually shown on page 7. The rest, and in fact the majority, of the texts in these pull-outs and magazines are orthographically in Standard British English. The cartoon in Figure 3 is taken from the July 15, 2007 issue of Teen Talk. It represents the function which Engsh assumes in these papers: Engsh is not 15. This example has been taken from Abdulaziz and Osinde (1997: 55) 16. The Sunday Nation is the weekend edition of the Daily Nation, Kenya’s leading independent daily newspaper. 17. The Standard is Kenya’s oldest newspaper.

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merely used for entertainment purposes but also when serious topics are addressed – in this case the dif¿culty graduates face to meet the demands of future employers as expressed in companies’ job advertisements. Linguistically, the cartoon draws on various languages. The headline, hakuna kazi bila, is a phrase in Kiswahili meaning ‘there is no job without….’ An insert which zooms in on part of the job advertisement the character Nancy is contemplating is in Standard English. The main message, however, is presented in sentences which draw on English for their grammar and most of their vocabulary, but which also incorporate non-English elements as explained below.

Figure 3. Cartoon in Teen Talk

The clause Nancy has been applying for jobos, contains the lexical item jobos, meaning ‘jobs’. The word was originally borrowed from English into Sheng. At that time, the letter was added to create the special Sheng character, and the item was then taken into Engsh. Borrowing is also evident in the second half of the sentence, she thinks she won’t pata one coz she’s bila experience (which means ‘she thinks she won’t get one because she’s without experience’). Here the words pata (‘get’) and bila (‘without’) have been borrowed from Kiswahili.18 Besides borrowing from Kiswahili and Sheng, a number of other characteristics occur at the lexical level as example 5 illustrates. There are abbreviated 18. Also, alterations have been made to the word because: it has been abbreviated and its orthography has been changed to resemble the pronunciation, resulting in the form coz.

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Christiane Meierkord

lexical items (compe for competition), mock phonology as in diss and nex, inÀuence from SMS writing in the use of numerals (b4), and a particular use of the Slavic suf¿x –ski in Russki. Example 5 Speaking which, watu wengi (‘a lot of people’, Kiswahili) have been sayin’ I toa maoni (‘offer my opinion’) on the Penny Karibe / Lilly Muli ‘Whose Hotter? Debate!’ P’sonally, I think the compe should be ‘tween our Mwanaishs Chidzugs and Metro TV’s diss bunny Myra, but let’s hold the thought till I’m safely ensconced in Russki nex month b4 I unsleash my full list. Pulse, Friday May 4, 2007

Examples (6) to (11) further illustrate these different features. Example 6 Like, yaani, mumejuana kutoka zamani, y’know what I mean? Example 7 The smitta waz into this Sheila huko kedo standard 3, when our paros would take us guys swimming.

Example (6) illustrates borrowing from Kiswahili: yaani, mumejuana kutoka zamani translates into ‘in other words, knowing one’s husband since long.’ The sentence in (7) also contains a borrowed item from Kiswahili: huko kedo, meaning ‘since’, and it also includes a lexical item taken from Sheng: paros (‘parents’). Paro once more illustrates the tendency of Sheng items to end in . In example (7), we also ¿nd an instance of mock phonology in waz, and we ¿nd additional instances of this characteristic feature in (8) with whaccha and lookin. Example 8 Whaccha lookin 4ward to, tonight?

Example (8) furthermore displays the use of numerals in the item 4ward. Examples (9) and (10) indicate that Engsh borrows from various languages. Mamasitas is Spanish and you’se is frequently encountered in Black Vernacular English. Both borrowings indicate that Engsh users are inÀuenced by language use in America – probably through the vast presence of American English in the media. Additionally, (11) displays a peculiar use of the Slavic suf¿x –ski, apparently without any particular meaning attached to it here in eveski.

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Example 9 She’s a lil shy, one of our marketing mamasitas tole me. Example 10 Like you’se a fan of her fanny. Example 11 I decided to take a nap in Oduor’s car before the yet-to-unfold events of eveski.

Table 2 presents a summary of the different features which characterise Engsh. Table 2. Lexical strategies in Engsh Engsh Àavours Strategy

Original word

Meaning

nada (Spanish)

‘nothing’

just

‘just’

fabulous

‘fabulous’

before

‘before’

couple

‘couple’

Borrowing nada Mock phonology juzz Abbreviation fab Numerals b4 Sound additions capo

Besides the various strategies which characterise the use of Engsh at the lexical level, the publications also contained instances of some of those grammatical particularities which have been observed with KenE (e.g. by Schmied 2004b). In Don’t she know I’m getting down wid Odiero? The auxiliary is not used in concord with the subject she. Also, there is an omission of the article in Let me show you bongo-fea-va-move for getting a Pwani redy. On the other hand, there was no indiscriminate use of male and female pronouns, which would be more typical of KenE as opposed to general slang. Similarly, there was no particular use of prepositions, no unmarked adverbs, no characteristic patterns of phrasal and prepositional verbs different from those used in British Standard English, no characteristic patterns of verb complementation as in Would you mind to tell us uh a brief background about ICAC and uh what uh are you going to

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Christiane Meierkord

discuss in Arusha. There was, contrary to what Schmied (2004b) identi¿es, no extended use of the –s plural to include non-countables, e.g. luggages or an extended use of the progressive form as in It is really very toxic to the user because it produces a lot of smoke heavy smoke and it is smelling. For this reason, I would propose that the few grammatical particularities rather reÀect non-standard language use in general. Although the above examples document that Engsh is a form of language which incorporates many diverse features to express its users’ identity, these are used at very different frequencies. An analysis of the different magazines revealed that some features occur at a very high ratio, whereas others appear to be only of marginal importance. Figure 4 indicates the share of the different particularities within the total of those features found in the individual magazines. Features in %

60

50

40

Teen Talk Pulse

30

Smitta Smitten

20

10

0 Kiswahili

local languages

Sheng

other languages

other Englishes

KenE grammar

non-standard spelling

mock abbreviations phonology

numerals

Figure 4. Engsh features in selected magazines

In total, there were 260 instances of the different features. Teen Talk and Pulse have fairly high amounts of borrowing from Kiswahili, which is not as pronounced in the Smitta Smitten columns. The share of borrowings from Sheng and local languages is comparatively low in all publications. In both the Smitta Smitten column as well as in the rest of Pulse, borrowings from non-local languages even outnumber them. They include, for example, trez cool (trez derives from French très), funnyski, or headski (in these two items, the Slavic morpheme -ski does not add any meaning). At times, several phenomena combine into hybrid constructions. For example ma-celebz (‘celebrities’) involves mock

U r ma treasure bila measure

45

phonology as well as the use of the Kiswahili plural morpheme ma. Or in the sentence Circute hands Joel his mic and promptly forgets that he’s supposed to be performing, since he’s busy katikaring with Miss Manyake where katikaring is a combination of a Sheng word katika (‘dance’) and the English progressive morpheme –ing. At the same time, strategies which have been found to characterise adolescent writing across the world (cf. Thurlow 2003 and Frehner 2008) feature comparatively prominent, albeit at different ratios across the three publications: Uses of non-standard spelling, mock phonology, abbreviations, and numerals.

5.

Conclusion

The use of Engsh in various Kenyan newspaper supplements documents that language mixing has established itself as an accepted strategy for expressing one’s identity linguistically. Engsh users draw both on local as well as global (often inÀuenced by American English) resources to construct the code which they use to reÀect their hybrid identities. As Muthwii and Kioko (2004: 8) have explained, particularly urban communities “have evolved the ability to tell apart the varieties of the languages within their repertoire and to use them to communicate particular wants using particular varieties.” In Kenya, it seems that the users of Engsh use the code and its various lexical components to reveal, on the one hand, their af¿liation with Kenya through including large amounts of lexical material borrowed from Kiswahili and, on the other hand, their openness towards the world, particularly towards American culture. In addition, the very low amount of borrowing from local Kenyan languages might indicate that the users of Engsh construct their identities as “young, modern city-dweller with no links to traditional African culture” (cf. Webb and Kembo-Sure 2000: 37). In sum, given the hybrid make-up of Engsh, the code seems to indicate a ‘glocal’ identity, which combines local, modern Kenyan and global belonging. Whether Engsh will continue to develop as a separate code is an issue which requires further observation and discussion. Hillewaert (2006) holds that the divide which existed between Sheng and Engsh as codes used by the lower versus the upper-middle class is dissolving, following the spread of Sheng.

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References Abdulaziz, Mohamed H. 1991 East Africa (Tanzania and Kenya). In: Cheshire, Jenny (ed.), English around the World: Sociolinguistic Perspectives. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 391– 401. Abdulaziz, Mohamed H. and Ken Osinde 1997 Sheng and Engsh: Development of mixed codes among the urban youth in Kenya. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 125: 43 – 63. Achebe, Chinua 1975 Morning yet on Creation Day. London: Heinemann. Bokamba, Eyamba G. 1982 The Africanization of English. In: Kachru, Braj B. (ed.), The Other Tongue: English across Cultures. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press. 77 – 98. Bosire, Mokaya 2006 Hybrid languages: The case of Sheng. In: Arasanyin, Olaoba F. and Michael A. Pemberton (eds.), Selected Proceedings of the 36th Annual Conference on African Linguistics. Somerville, MA: Cascadilla Proceedings Project. 185 – 193. Buregeya, Alfred 2006 Grammatical features of Kenyan English and the extent of their acceptability. English World-Wide 27(2): 199 – 216. Deumert, Ana and Sibabalwe Oscar Masinyana 2008 Mobile language choices – The use of English and isiXhosa in text messages (SMS): Evidence from a bilingual South African sample. English World-Wide 29(2): 117 – 147. Frehner, Carmen 2008 Email – SMS – MMS. The Linguistic Creativity of Asynchronous Discourse in the New Media Age. Bern: Lang. Gass, Susan and Larry Selinker 2001 Second Language Acquisition: An Introductory Course. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Golovko, Evgeniy V. 2003 Language contact and group identity: The role of ‘folk’ linguistic engineering. In: Matras, Yaron and Peter Bakker (eds.), The Mixed Language Debate. Berlin: de Gruyter. 177 – 207. Githinji, Peter 2006 Bazes and their shibboleths: Lexical variation and Sheng speakers’ identity in Nairobi. Nordic Journal of African Studies 15(4): 443 – 472.

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Githiora, Chege 2002 Sheng: Peer language, Kiswahili dialect or emerging creole? Journal of African Cultural Studies 15(2): 159 – 181. Hillewaert, Sarah 2006 The unbwogable NARC. A case study of popular music’s inÀuence on political discourse. Paper presented at the 2006 ASA Annual Conference (San Francisco). 1 – 11. sitemaker.umich.edu/ahgworkshop/¿les/hillewaert2006.pdf. Accessed 07 July 2001. Kachru, Braj B. 2001 New Englishes. In: Mesthrie, Rajend (ed.), Concise Encyclopedia of Sociolinguistics. Oxford: Elsevier. 519 – 524. Kang’ethe-Iraki, Frederick 2004 Cognitive ef¿ciency: The Sheng phenomenon in Kenya. Pragmatics 14(1): 55 – 68. Kanyoro, Musimbi R.A. 1991 The politics of the English language in Kenya and Tanzania. In: Cheshire, J. (ed.), English around the World: Sociolinguistic Perspectives. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 402 – 419. Kembo-Sure 1991 Language functions and language attitudes in Kenya. English WorldWide 12(2): 245 – 260. Klein, Thomas B. 2006 Consciousness and linguistic agency in Creole: Evidence from Gullah and Geechee. Trans. Internet-Zeitschrift für Kulturwissenschaften 16. www.inst.at/trans/16Nr/03_2/klein16.htm. Accessed 10 March 2009. Klein, Thomas B. 2007 Linguistic identity, agency, and consciousness in Creole: Gullah-Geechee and Middle Caicos. In: Anchimbe, Eric A. (ed.), Linguistic Identity in Postcolonial Multiligual Spaces. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. 310 – 334. Krashen, Stephen D. 1981 Second Language Acquisition and Second Language Learning. Oxford: Pergamon. Lal, Brij V. 2007 The Encyclopedia of the Indian Diaspora. Singapore: Editions Didier Millet. Lai, Chun and Yong Zhao 2006 Noticing and text-based chat. Language Learning and Technology 10(3): 102 – 120. Mazrui, Alamin M. 1995 Slang and code-switching: The case of Sheng in Kenya. Afrikanistische Arbeitspapiere 42: 168 – 175.

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Mazrui, Alamin M. and Ali A. Mazrui 1996 A tale of two Englishes: The imperial language in post-colonial Kenya and Uganda. In: Fishman, Joshua et al. (eds.), Post-Imperial English. Status Change in Former British and American Colonies, 1940 – 1990. Berlin: de Gruyter. 271 – 302. McArthur, Tom 2000 The Oxford Guide to World English. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Meierkord, Christiane 2004 Syntactic variation in interactions across international Englishes. English World-Wide 25(1): 109 – 132. Meierkord, Christiane 2005 Interactions across Englishes and their lexicon. In: Gnutzmann, Claus and Frauke Intemann (eds.), The Globalisation of English and the English Language Classroom. Tübingen: Narr. 89 – 104. Michieka, Martha M. 2005 English in Kenya: A sociolinguistic pro¿le. World Englishes 24(2): 173 – 186. Mufwene, Salikoko S. 2001 The Ecology of Language Evolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Muthwii, Margaret J. and Angelina N. Kioko 2004 Editorial: A fresh quest for new language bearings in Africa. In: Muthwii, Margaret J. and Angelina N. Kioko (eds.), New Language Bearings in Africa. Clevedon: Multilingual Mattters. 1 – 9. Muysken, Pieter 2001 Intertwined languages. In: Mesthrie, Rajend (ed.), Concise Encyclopedia of Sociolinguistics. Oxford: Elsevier. 481 – 483. Nzunga, Michael P. Kipande 2002 Sheng & Engsh. In: Rissom, Ingrid (ed.), Languages in Contrast. Bayreuth: Breitinger. 87 – 93. Ogechi, Nathan Oyori 2002 Trilingual Code-Switching in Kenya: Evidence from Ekegusii, Kiswahili, English and Sheng. Hamburg, Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek Hamburg. www.sub.uni-hamburg.de/opus/volltexte/2005/2749/. Accessed 07 July 2011. Ogechi, Nathan Oyori 2005 On lexicalization in Sheng. Nordic Journal of African Studies 14(3): 334 – 355. Schmidt, Richard W. 1990 The role of consciousness in second language learning. Applied Linguistics 11: 129 – 158.

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Schmidt, Richard W. 1995 Consciousness and foreign language learning: A tutorial on the role of attention and awareness. In: Schmidt, Richard W. (ed.), Attention and Awareness in Foreign Language Teaching and Learning. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i at Manoa, Honolulu. 1 – 64. Schmied, Josef 1991a English in Africa. London: Longman. Schmied, Josef 1991b National and subnational features in Kenyan English. In: Cheshire, Jenny (ed.), English around the World: Sociolinguistic Perspectives. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 420 – 432. Schmied, Josef 2004a East African English (Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania): Phonology. In: Schneider, Edgar W. et al. (eds.), A Handbook of Varieties of English. Vol. 1. Phonology. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. 918 – 930. Schmied, Josef 2004b East African English (Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania): Morphology and syntax. In: Kortmann, Bernd et al. (eds.), A Handbook of Varieties of English Vol. 2. Morphology & Syntax. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. 929 – 947. Shitemi, Naomi L. 2002 Pidginization: Sheng, the melting pot of the Kenyan languages and an anti-babel development. Kiswahili 64: 1 – 15. Skandera, Paul 1999 What do we REALLY know about Kenyan English? – A pilot study in research methodology. English World-Wide 20(2): 217 – 236. Skandera, Paul 2003 Drawing a Map of Africa: Idiom in Kenyan English. Tübingen: Narr. Slobin, Dan I. 1985 Crosslinguistic evidence for the language-making capacity. In: Slobin, D. I. (ed.), The Crosslinguistic Study of Language Acquisition. Vol.2. Theoretical Issues. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum. 1157 – 1259. Thomason, Sarah G. 2001 Language Contact. An Introduction. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Thurlow, Cripin 2003 Generation Txt? The sociolinguistics of young people’s text messaging. Discourse Analysis Online 1. www.shu.ac.uk/daol/articles/v1/n1/a3/ thurlow2002003 – paper.html. Accessed 28 June 2011. Trudgill, Peter and Jean Hannah 2002 International English: A Guide to Varieties of Standard English. 4th ed. London: Arnold.

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Webb, Vic and Kembo-Sure 2000 African Voices. An Introduction to the Languages and Linguistics of Africa. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Zuengler, Jane E. 1982 Kenyan English. In: Kachru, Braj B. (ed.) The Other Tongue: English across Cultures. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press. 112 – 124.

Chapter 3 Gender and cultural identity in a television show in Botswana Sibonile Edith Ellece

1.

Introduction

Since the inception of critical linguistics in the 1970’s (Fowler et al. 1970, Fowler and Hodge 1979), language has increasingly become the focus of social commentators and scholars as they recognise the central role language plays in the construction of our social life. Therefore, to carry out any authentic study of society, there must be a conscious focus on its language as well. As Halliday (1979: 31) upholds, “the study of social man (sic) presupposes the study of language and social man”. Bearing this in mind, this chapter seeks to examine the role of language in the construction of gender and cultural identity in Botswana. The data used here come from two sessions of the television programme Matlho-a-phage (The Eyes of a (wild) Cat, a metaphor referring to face to face communication). These sessions were on the abolition of the Marital Power Bill in 2004 (Botswana Parliament Bills), and each of them is about 50 minutes long (aired on the 12th and 19th of December 2004). To be more precise, the chapter analyses the intersection of gender and culture in the discursive construction of Tswana identity in the television programme, Matlho-a-phage, broadcast on Botswana’s national television, Botswana Television (BTV). Using critical discourse analysis (CDA) and, in particular, the discourse historical approach (see Wodak et al. 1999, van Leeuwen and Wodak 1999, Reisigl and Wodak 2001, and Wodak 2002), the chapter examines the argumentation patterns used to construct a ‘Tswana identity’ (see section 2 for more on ‘Tswana’) through the legitimation and/or delegitimation of speci¿c cultural practices, values and beliefs on gender relations. CDA is adopted here because of its commitment to unmasking socio-political ideologies, some of them encoded in language, that are responsible for social inequality and social injustice in general (see Fairclough 1992, Wodak et al. 1999).

52

Sibonile Edith Ellece

The study is based on reactions to the amendment of the Marriage Act of 1982 and, in particular, section 4.3 of the Act. Before December 2004, a husband had ‘marital power’ over the person and property of his wife. However, this was reversed on the 1st of December 2004 to make partners equal in marriage by abolishing ‘marital power’ from the Marriage Act. Following the passing of the Marital Power Bill of 2004 into law, there were ¿erce debates in the media in Botswana. The debates were aired on radio and television as well as in editorials and opinion letters in local newspapers. In the debates, some criticised the law reform as ‘uncultural’ while others hailed it as progressive and democratic. In this chapter, I argue that these debates showed a tendency to justify old practices as encoded in the law as ‘culture’, and this Tswana culture was de¿ned in terms of how men and women related to each other in the marriage institution. I also show how this ‘Tswana identity’ is not only contested but also that this contestation characterises most postcolonial identities. I con¿ne my analysis to the televised debates, and show how the panellists legitimise their points of view and construct a Tswana identity. The analyses also show how the different speakers offer contesting and often contradictory constructions of the Tswana identity which often comes across as Àuid.

2.

Brief sociolinguistic pro¿le of Botswana

The people who inhabit present day Botswana are called Batswana (singular ‘Motswana’, often shortened to ‘Tswana’ people or the ‘Tswana’). But as Molokomme (1990) rightly observes, the people of Botswana do not belong to a homogeneous linguistic or cultural group. The great majority of the people are of Tswana origin, that is, they belong to the Tswana stock of the SothoTswana group of people of Southern Africa whose language is Setswana, (sometimes abbreviated as the ‘Tswana’ language) a Sotho-Tswana group of Bantu languages. It is believed that there are in fact more Tswana people outside Botswana (Cole 1955). Three million are found in South Africa, 29,000 in Zimbabwe, 6,000 in Namibia and in Botswana there are about one million Setswana speakers (Otlogetswe 2004, Lewis 2009). Of those found in Botswana there are several sub-groups which are distinguished by minor cultural and dialectal variations. These are the Bangwato, Bakwena, Bakgatla and Batawana. These four have a common ancestor and have as their distinctive tribal dialects Sengwato, Sekwena, Sekgatla and Setawana respectively (Cole 1955: xx). Other Tswana groups include Batlokwa, Balete, Barolong, Bahurutshe and Bangwaketse and their dialects are Setlokwa, Selete, Serolong, Sehurutshe and Sengwaketse respectively.

Gender and cultural identity in a television show in Botswana

53

Apart from Setswana-speaking Batswana there are several groups of nonTswana speaking people in Botswana. These include the Basarwa or Khoesan (also Bushmen), Bakalanga, Bakgalagadi, Basubiya, Bayei, Baherero, Bambukushu, Batswapong and Babirwa. The noun ‘Batswana’ englobes both the citizens of Botswana, regardless of their ethnic/linguistic origin, and members of the Sotho-Tswana stock who speak Setswana (Cole 1955, Molokomme 1990, Otlogetswe 2004). In all, there are about and 28 languages, including English, spoken in Botswana. English and Setswana) function as of¿cial languages. Setswana is spoken by at least one million people (Lewis 2009, Otlogetswe 2004). Despite its multilingual status, Botswana’s language policy recognises only English and Setswana as languages of of¿cial business, education and wider communication, which is why the television debates were conducted in Setswana.

3.

The concept of identity

In order to account for how cultural identity is constructed in the mediated debates, I wish to explain brieÀy the sense in which the term identity is used in this chapter. The construction of identity is a well researched phenomenon that has been construed in various senses by people from different disciplines and perspectives. Wodak et al. (1999) rightly point out that the concept of identity is a very complex one. One way in which it is often conceptualised is in relation to two levels: as individual-related or as systems-related. Individual identity refers to the ways in which an individual is ascribed certain social traits or characteristics such as sex, class, age, sexuality, as well as role expectations and memberships from outside which the individual then takes up in their images of themselves or which other people see as their external attributes (Wodak et al. 1999: 16). Systems-related identity refers to the characterisations of groups rather than individuals. Identity in this case is conceptualised in terms of organisations, classes, ethnicities and cultures. Members of such groups would then see themselves as, for example, Batswana, women, farmers, immigrants, Moslems, and so on. This characterisation includes both those who de¿ne themselves as being in the system (in-groups) and those who see themselves as existing outside of the system (out-groups). For example, the Basarwa in Botswana may not see themselves as belonging to the national Tswana identity, because of their historical marginalisation. However, as has been said by many scholars, it is to be noted that identities are not ¿xed or unchanging. It should also be acknowledged that the idea of one

54

Sibonile Edith Ellece

homogeneous, ‘pure’ identity at the individual or the group level is ¿ctional. Any individual is “enculturated in many heterogeneous, and often conÀicting regional, superregional, cultural, linguistic, ethnic, religious, sexual, political and otherwise de¿ned ‘we’ identities” (Wodak et al. 1999: 1). As a result, we talk of people having multiple identities because of the wide spectrum of sources of identi¿cation at their disposal (Wodak et al. 1999, Wodak 2003). In discourse, identity may be constructed as homogeneous or as fragmented. Identity is one effect of discourse (Fairclough 1992). As discourses occur in networks (Sunderland 2004) one’s individual and group identity is always shifting as different discourses construct him/her in different contexts. Butler (1990) talks of how individuals can ‘perform’ their identity such as when men dress like women (and vice versa) or change their sex. This way a man can ‘perform’ his (individual) feminine identity and a woman can perform her (individual) masculine identity. In postcolonial Africa in general, linguistic, national and cultural identities have become hybrid. In Botswana, for example, while the label ‘Tswana’ (or Motswana) refers to all citizens of Botswana, regardless of the language they speak, ‘Tswana’ may also be an exclusive label for speakers of Setswana (see Otlogetswe 2004). People in Botswana can be identi¿ed as Batswana (on account of their citizenship) or non-Tswana (on account of their linguistic or cultural identities). Therefore, constructions of identities (linguistic or cultural) in discourse are often contradictory and conÀicting. In the analysis of the television programme, I show how a Tswana identity is constructed, legitimised, challenged and rede¿ned in an endless tussle between traditional discourses that encode skewed gender relations and emerging discourses of equality and human rights.

4.

The data

The data for this chapter consist of two sessions of the Matlho-a-phage television programme aired on Botswana’s only state controlled television, Botswana Television. The data form a corpus of about 7,000 words, and were taken from the library records of Botswana Television and transcribed using a transcribing machine. They were coded in terms of conversational turns. Reference to the data is in terms of conversational turns and lines (T23, for instance, means Turn 23 as it occurs in the transcript). The show features various topics ranging from political to social issues and often explores current affairs which are topical or controversial. The show is conducted in Setswana, the national language of Botswana spoken by about 80% of the population. It generally consists of a

Gender and cultural identity in a television show in Botswana

55

presenter and panellists who may be specialists on the topics under discussion or have been involved with the issues in some way. It is aired during prime viewing time (8 – 9pm) on Sundays. The abolition of Marital Power Bill of 2004 and its subsequent enactment into law on December 1st, 2004, generated so much debate in various media quarters that BTV decided to have two shows about the issue. Hence, it was featured on the 12th of December and again on the 19th, 2004. It was hosted by Festus Mogagane, who was then the regular presenter of Matlho-a-phage. Table 1. Participants of the Matlho-a-phage programme Participant

Stance on issue

Role and organisation

Session 1: 12 December 2004 th

Festus Mogagane

Presenter

Moeng Pheto

For

Minister (Labour and Home Affairs: government)

Joyce Anderson

For

Women’s group: Emang Basadi (Stand up Women)

Pono Moatlhodi

Against

Member of Parliament

Pastor Mthethwa

Against

Evangelical Fellowship of Botswana

Session 2: 19th December 2004 Festus Mogagane

Presenter

Gordon Mokgwathi

Against

Member of Parliament

Citrus Mookodi

Against

Kgosi (Chief), Gaborone West

In the ¿rst programme, there were four panellists and in the second there were two. Although the bill was passed with little opposition in Parliament, there were a few very vocal Members of Parliament (MPs) who opposed it. Two of the MPs who were most vocal in raising objections to, and reservations about, the passing of the bill into law featured in the programme. These were Pono Moatlhodi who featured in the ¿rst session on December 12th and Gordon Mokgwathi who featured in the second session aired on December 19th. Citrus Mookodi, the representative of Botswana’s traditional leadership or Dikgosi (chiefs) and a member of the House of Chiefs (which plays an advisory role to the Botswana Parliament), was also strongly opposed to the changes in the law. He took part in the in the second debate. Table 1 shows the participants and their roles or the organisations they represented.

56

Sibonile Edith Ellece

The participants in the debate belong to two opposing camps: 1) those in support of the new law (Pheto and Anderson) whom I refer to here as the progressionists, and 2) those against it (Moatlhodi, Mthethwa, Mokgwathi and Mookodi), i.e. the traditionalists.

5.

The struggle for marital equality in Botswana: A historical backdrop

Botswana has a unique legal system which comprises two parallel legal frameworks: the customary framework (customary law) and the civil framework (common law). Customary law is a largely unde¿ned, unwritten legal framework based on the cultural norms, values and practices of different ethnic groups. Traditionally the custodian of customary law is the chief/king who is both prosecutor and judge in matters relating to civil disputes and crime. Common law on the other hand is a formal, written legal framework inherited from Botswana’s colonial system and it is based on the Dutch Roman Law (see Mokomane 2001). It was used in the colonial era for those people who were not natives of the then Bechuanaland Protectorate (present-day Botswana). Today, the common law is the most commonly used legal framework in both criminal and civil proceedings, including marriage. It has not been without setbacks of different kinds, one of them directly linked to the Marriage Act. The struggle for marital equality in Botswana started to be felt in the late 1980’s when Judge Unity Dow, who was then a human rights lawyer, won a landmark case against the Government of Botswana in what became famously known as the Citizenship Case (Unity Dow vs. Attorney General CA No. 4/91). In this particular case, Ms Dow took the Government of Botswana to court for refusing to grant her children Botswana citizenship on the grounds that their father was a foreigner. Her argument was that the Citizenship Act of 1982 discriminated against her on the basis of her sex; by denying her the right to pass her Botswana citizenship to her children because they were born to a foreign father. According to the Citizenship Act of 1982 children born to Tswana citizen fathers and foreign mothers were granted automatic citizenship but those born to citizen mothers and foreign fathers were denied citizenship. The Citizenship Act was in a way related to the Marriage Act in that Section 4.3 of the Marriage Act recognized only the home of the husband as the wife’s (and children’s) domicile. This meant that the children of Mrs. Dow were treated as American citizens because their father was American. This was despite the fact that they were born and raised in Mochudi, Botswana, and one of their parents, their mother, was a Motswana.

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57

Dow took the government to court to contest the validity of the Citizenship Act of 1982 in view of Chapter II of the Botswana Constitution which incorporates a Bill of Rights, Section 3 of which guarantees every individual freedoms and rights regardless of race, religious or political opinion, sex, colour or creed. Dow won the case, but it was a long time before the Government amended the Marriage Act and the Citizenship Act to make them gender-neutral. Dow’s case acted as a springboard for women’s activism in Botswana and fuelled protests against gender discriminatory laws including the Citizenship Act, the Marriage Act and Property law. The ¿ght against discriminatory laws was led by Emang Basadi (Stand up Women), a women’s organisation in Botswana, and supported by Ditshwanelo (Botswana Centre for Human Rights), among other organisations. In 1990, Unity Dow founded the Metlhaetsile Women’s Information Centre which promoted the human rights of women and children. The efforts of these women and their organisation resulted in law reforms, one of which is the abolition of ‘marital power’ from the Marriage Act, which came into effect on December 1st 2004. This law gives men and women equal rights in marriage. The women’s ¿ght for equality, though applauded in of¿cial circles, was highly criticised in private because women’s rights are seen as counter to Tswana culture.

6.

On argumentation strategies

When people argue, they use persuasion as the main ingredient of their arguments. Persuasion aims at “inÀuencing a person so that he or she adopts perceptions, attitudes to and views on persons, objects and ideas” (Reisigl and Wodak 2001: 68). Argumentation, van Eemeren and Grootendorst (1983: 9) assert, “is an attempt to convince a rational judge of the rightness of a particular standpoint in respect of the acceptability of an expressed opinion”. What this means is that when two or more speakers are engaged in a debate, one speaker addresses the other(s) (his/her addressees) who must assume the position of the rational judge and evaluate the validity of the argument. The roles of speaker (addressor) and judge (addressee) are interchangeable so that a participant in a debate can be a speaker at one point and a judge at another. Arguments are discursive strategies in that they are more or less deliberate speech acts designed at achieving a particular communicative goal. In a television show such as Matlho-a-phage the panellists are all listeners (judges) as well speakers at some point during the debate. On the sidelines, we also have the viewers who can only be watchers or listeners and, therefore, can only play the role of judges with regard to the debate – even though they do not get the chance to speak.

58

Sibonile Edith Ellece

Throughout the television debates there are arguments and counter arguments that serve to legitimate or de-legitimate the changes made to the Marriage Act. The tension between the discourses referred to in the talk show is shown by the way speakers who support the law that is supposed to bring equality between spouses employ different argumentation strategies from those opposed to the law reforms. Coming from different walks of life and representing different opinions, the participants construct various identities in their turns: Tswana cultural identity, female identity, political identity, etc. This shows, as mentioned earlier and as other chapters in this book show, that postcolonial identities are malleable, Àuctuating and dependent on context, issues at stake and cultural background. Using the rules of argumentation as guiding principles, focus in the analysis is on the examination of topoi. These are content-related warrants or rules that link the argument to the conclusion or claim and show how speakers employ argumentation strategies to legitimate or delegitimate gender inequality in the marriage institution. The analysis also includes the examination of arguments that support the law that makes men and women equal in marriage. I show how the arguments for and against the new law contrast in the employment of argumentation strategies and, as a result, in the gender relations they construct. I refer to the two camps (see above) in this chapter as the traditionalist (against marital equality) and the progressionist (for marital equality).

7.

Traditionalists’ gendered discourses and their legitimation

In the next sub-sections I look at arguments advanced in opposition to changes to section 4.3 of the Marriage Act. The majority of speakers (4 out of 6) were against the law that made spouses equal. The host of the programme, Festus Mogagane, appeared to be on the side of those opposed to the law. This is retrievable in his questioning style that sometimes prompted the panellists to agree with an opinion implied in the question. Those against the law reforms draw extensively from traditional gendered discourses or beliefs in a bid to construct a Tswana cultural identity. They rely on the customary system of the Batswana to insist that the man be in control of the person and property of the wife. I use the topoi developed by Reisigl and Wodak (2001). Attention is paid in this section to argumentation strategies used to legitimate discourses of a damaging nature (Sunderland 2004) to the traditional set up, and how these strategies help the speakers to de-legitimate progressive discourses. In particular I am looking at arguments that are used to oppose the

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2004 changes to the Marriage Act. I also examine the use of metaphor as a persuasive device by some of the speakers. 7.1. The topos of male discrimination The speakers use the topos of male discrimination to accuse the law reforms of discrimination against men. This topos draws from the premise that a group that is favoured by a social system claims discrimination when there is a reversal of roles (Reisigl and Wodak 2001). In excerpt 1, Moatlhodi blames women for many marital problems and, as if this is not enough, the law still supports them; the law is on their side. For him, therefore, men are now the discriminated gender: Excerpt 1 Moatlhodi (T28): bomme, molao o o sireletsa thata bomme le mororo borre bangwe re ora mo Botswana mathata a. Er re na mathata bangwe borre thata. Mo Botswana borre ka bontsi ba na le mathata a nyalo mme o itlhela e le gore go tsalwa ke bomme mme molao one o le ntlheng ya bomme women, the law protects women more… we bear these problems in Botswana. Er, we have problems some of us men. In Botswana, many men have marital problems that are caused by women but the law is on the side of women. (my translation)

According to Moatlhodi, since the changes to the Marriage Act discriminate against men, it is clear the power scales have been tipped in favour of women. This, according to Moatlhodi, places men in a victim position. The topos of discrimination against men is best epitomised in the use of a ¿re metaphor discussed below. By claiming that the law discriminates against men, the speaker is subverting the equality discourse espoused in the new amended law and legitimated by those who support law reform. This is an example of what Reisigl and Wodak (2001) refer to as argumentum ad misericordium fallacy, i.e., unjusti¿ably appealing for compassion over an issue. In excerpt 2 below, Moatlhodi goes on to refer to men under the new law as ‘mesutsa’ (plural of ‘mosutsa’), that is, wet logs. This is a ¿re metaphor, men are like wet logs of wood that cannot burn in ¿re, and it is used here to refer to men who do not ¿t the Botswana masculine ideal. The ‘mosutsa’ metaphor is used by Moatlhodi to position men as powerless, emasculated and weakened by the amended law. A ‘mosutsa’ hisses and produces smoke if one lights it, but it does not burn easily or give out much energy. A ‘mosutsa’ man, therefore, does not ¿t the ‘proper’ Tswana masculine identity. The ‘mosutsa’ metaphor

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is an allusion to a statement that a female MP, Margaret Nasha, had made in the Parliamentary debates that she did not understand why women should be compelled to accept the leadership of males who may not even have leadership qualities. Moatlhodi in excerpt 2, ironically, rationalises that women should respect their ‘mesutsa’ because they chose them over ‘real’ men: Excerpt 2 Moatlhodi (T 86): Jaanong nna se ke se buang ka re one mosutsa oo o o itlhophetse, e ntse o …o tlogetse banna wa tlhopha mosutsa, jaanong mosutsa oo o neele tlotla ya gore ke tlhogo ya lwapa, ke rraagwe bana ba gago.

Now what I say is that you chose that ‘mosutsa’ for yourself. You by-passed (real) men and chose a ‘mosutsa’, now give him respect that he is the head of the household; he is the father of your children. (my translation)

Another ¿re metaphor that constructs men as victims of this ‘unjust’ law is used by Mookodi, when he says: “We, our feelings as the chieftaincy is that this new law puts men on the smoky side” of the ¿re (Mookodi T115). This metaphor builds on the image of people sitting around a ¿re, as they often do in the evenings. Under the new law, men are conceived of as sitting on the side to which the smoke Àows and so take the biting pain of it in their eyes. This implies that women are enjoying the warm ¿re from the vantage position of the nonsmoky side. He uses the open ¿re metaphor which is very commonly used in the Setswana language to express a sense of injustice. Mookodi de-legitimates the new law by labelling it as unfair to men (who are made to sit on the smoky side of the ¿re). Mookodi’s argument is that because the law has suppressed the superior status of the man as head of the household, it has rendered him valueless in front of the woman. This suggests that men ¿nd it hard to accept equality and insist that in any relationship someone must be dominant, and in this case, the dominant partner is the male. Throughout his contribution, the chief is oblivious to any argument that suggests that under the old law women were disadvantaged. 7.2.

The topos of threat to culture

Throughout their arguments, the traditionalists refer to the need to preserve Tswana culture. They want certain practices to remain simply because they are part of the culture even though at the beginning Mokgwathi, a traditionalist, concedes that culture is not ¿xed and that the culture of our ancestors is not necessarily the culture we have today. Indeed, culture is the main argument used and it forms the basis for all other arguments. Atanga (2007) in her

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study of the construction of the ideal Cameroonian woman concluded that culture was used to legitimate expectations of how ‘decent’ Cameroonian women should or should not behave. For example, the ideal Cameroonian woman is one who is submissive, stays at home and looks after the family, whereas an outgoing woman who displays a sense of independence or shares public spaces with men is constructed as a whore. Similarly, in the marital power debates, the traditionalist panellists use culture to legitimate traditional gender relations in Botswana. Although Mokgwathi acknowledges that culture is not static, half way into the discussion he shows that he is just as opposed to changes as those who do not even acknowledge the need to shape the culture to be in line with the needs of modern day Botswana. In excerpt 3 below, Mokgwathi (T182) says that the common law marriage is for people who have taken off their ‘culture dress’ and have gotten married the European way of life. On this basis, therefore, their marriage is not culturally legitimate: Excerpt 3 Mokgwathi (T184): ee tota bo tshwanetse bo rerisiwe mme ga ga se gore ke lenyalo la Setswana. Bogosi bo tsena mo lenyalong le le customary la ngwao le mokgwa. Jaanong le go buiwang ka lone le ga se la mokgwa le ngwao ya Setswana, ke la ba ba ikapotseng, jaaka nne ke bua gore with all due respect, ba ba ikapotseng ngwao. Gongwe ha nka dirisa er mahoko a a neng a diriswa ke Mministara Pheto, ke ba ba senang badumedi mo ba senang tumelo mo Modimong Yes, truly it (the chieftaincy) needs to be consulted but it is not the Setswana marriage. The chieftaincy is concerned with the customary marriage, the traditional and cultural one. This one we are talking about is not according to the Setswana customs and traditions. It is for those who have thrown away, as I have already said all with due respect, it is for those who have removed their ‘culture dress’. Maybe I will use some of the words the minister used; it is for those who have no faith in God. (my translation)

Mokgwathi is very concerned with Setswana customs and traditions and sees the new law as a total threat to Tswana culture. He distances himself and the local culture from the reformed marriage law, which for him regulates marriages only for those people who have turned their back on their culture. Apart from the suppression of the position of the man as the head of the household, other cultural practices that are potentially threatened include the right of parents to be involved in their children’s marriage processes and the chief’s role as mediator in marital conÀicts. The traditionalists argue that, ¿rstly, the erosion of these practices means that couples will now have to go to court to sort out

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domestic disputes, thus incurring heavy legal costs. Secondly, the law reforms demote the husband and, as consequence, the Setswana family might descend into chaos because of a leadership vacuum. The traditionalists use a ‘dress’ metaphor. Those who abide by customary marriage still, by implication, have their culture dress on while those subscribing to the common law marriage with its new reforms are culturally ‘undressed’ or naked. They are construed as being out of the society, in a way, as blacklegs. They are not only said to be undressed or naked but to have also erased their culture, as Mokgwathi (T297) insinuates in the exchanges with the moderator in excerpt 4: Excerpt 4 Mokgwathi (T295): […] a go nne le molao o e leng wa Botswana hela, Let there be an exclusive Botswana law, Festus (T296): hmmn Mokgwathi (T297): o e leng gore o tlaa re o sena go nna o batla o bo o ya go gorosa mosadi, gongwe le bo le ya go saena ko ga molaodi. Mme e le o o lebaganyeng le Botswana. O ka seka o o re molao ke wa sekgoa o ya go nyalwa ko ga molaodi, o ya go phimola mokgwa le ngwao ya Setswana. which when you have sought a wife [through patlo] and then brought her home,1 maybe you could then go to the District Commissioner’s and sign. But it must be aimed at Batswana exclusively. You can’t say that the law is a European one. It is going to erase the customs and culture of Setswana. (my translation)

This is a fallacy which ampli¿es anticipated ills of the new legislation and blames a foreign culture for what it is supposedly going to do to Tswana culture. Mokgwathi uses the ‘dress’ metaphor to warn people that if they do not do something, the foreign culture will obliterate the Tswana culture. Note also how Mokgwathi mitigates his argument by hedging “I will say with all humility and respect […]” and “[…] with due respect” (T84) to ameliorate the facethreatening act of castigating those who marry under the common law. Later on in his turn, Mokgwathi evaluates the so-called ‘common law wives’ negatively, as he uses the intensi¿er ‘much’ three times and the diminutive marker ‘less’ to pre-modify the adjective ‘envied’ as a predicational strategy: “these people are much much much less envied than they seem to imagine”. It is important to note here that, he makes the remark in English, perhaps for emphasis given that 1. ‘Go gorosa’ is a concept in Setswana marriage which refers to the physical and symbolic translocation of a woman from her father’s house to her husband’s (family) house and implies certain rights for both the man and the woman.

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common law was, like the English language, introduced during colonialism and both are foreign to Botswana. He further uses a foreign element, religion, i.e. “for those who have no faith in God” to draw parallels between the new law and Tswana culture. 7.3.

The topos of threat to morality and social order

The premise of the topos of threat to morality is that change in the marriage law in Botswana could lead to moral degeneration characterised by divorce, samesex marriages and leadership chaos – caused by unde¿ned roles – in the household. This argument is used to warn the audience against helping law-makers to lead the nation into a state of chaos, by using the metaphor of ‘Mmapereko’s house’; a very powerful evaluative strategy. Mmapereko’s house, although the genesis of the metaphor is unclear, describes a state of affairs where there is no order, rules or laws to live by. It depicts a society that has collapsed: ‘Kwa ga Mmapereko’ (at Mma Pereko’s house) is where there is no order, where there are no rules and everybody does what they want. From a [traditional] man’s point of view it is when a husband’s authority is not recognized or listened to by the wife. A marriage, according to this view, only becomes stable when a wife listens and is submissive to her husband. (Mompoloki Bagwasi 2006, personal e-mail communication).

The equality of spouses could lead the Botswana society into ‘Mmapereko’s house’. Mokgwathi labels changes to the law as a step towards divorce and same-sex marriages. Equality is equated with moral degeneration and social regression where the traditional values of the society will be reversed and destroyed. In excerpt 5, he says that the new law signals the end of the marriage institution, i.e. Mmapereko’s house: Excerpt 5 Mokgwathi (T367): Ee jaanong ke tsela ya ntlha ya tlhalo. Ee koore se ba se dirang ke gore jaanong go bo go sena therisanyo ya gore le neelane le dumalane. Ke gore se se buiwang ke gore ke ko ga Mmapereko. Jaanong ko ga Mmapereko ha go na lenyalo. Ee, ke sone se molao o se rayang. Ha le lekalekana go sena tlhogo o tla re nnyaa…. Yes, now it is a step towards divorce. Yes, now what they are doing is so that there is no longer sharing and consultation. That is, what is being said is that we are now in Mmapereko’s house. Now in Mmapereko’s house there is no marriage. If there is just equality without a head, you will say no… (my transaltion)

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For Mokgwathi, the Botswana society would be in Mmapereko’s house in the absence of male authority in the home. By this he is advocating a traditional or customary marriage with the husband as the head, an aspect that de¿nes Tswana culture. 7.4.

The topos of religion

Related to the topos of morality is the topos of religion. The topos of religion is an appeal to religious authority through real or feigned reverence for a higher authority, and in this case, for divine authority, that is, it is an argumentum ad verecundium. Using this topos, Mthethwa and Moatlhodi point out to the viewers that they are a nation of believers (in a Christian God) and have obligations to obey and live by the principles laid out by their religion. The assumption is that all their viewers (and panellists) subscribe to the Christian religion, whose scriptures represent the sacred and incontrovertible authority of God. They appeal to the viewers to think of the implication of accepting laws that go against their religious beliefs. The noun ‘tshaba’ (nation) is used to construct a homogeneous religious and cultural identity. In order to convince his viewers, Moatlhodi, in excerpt 6, refers to Paul’s letter to the Ephesians (Ephesians 5: 23) thus: Excerpt 6 Motlhodi (T12): Nna ntlha e ke neng ka e bua ke gore bagaetsho, le gakologelwe gore mo lehatsheng je ja rona je re tšhaba e e ntlheng ya Modimo (raised voice), re tšhaba e e dumelang mo tumelong. Mme lekwalo la Modimo, molaetsa wa Modimo mo Lekwalong la Baefesia wa botlhano temana ya masome a mabedi le boraro wa re, “monna ke tlhogo ya mosadi hela jaaka Jesu Kresete e le Jesu… e le phut… ele moeteledi wa phuthego”. Me, the point I was saying is this, our people, you should remember that in our country we are a nation on the side of God. We are a nation which believes in the faith. In the book of God, the message of God in the book of Ephesians chapter ¿ve verse twenty-three says “man is the head of woman just as Jesus Christ is the head of the church. (my translation)

By claiming that ‘we are a nation of God’, Moatlhodi constructs a homogenous religious identity for the Batswana. He uses the inclusive (and also exclusive) ‘we’ pronoun and the inclusive phrase ‘our people’ to show his af¿liation to the Batswana. He hopes to show that by seeing themselves as one threatened religious group, they will act as one against the changes to the marriage law. He uses the quote from the Bible, which gives him the opportunity invoke authorisation by appeal to religious authority, to show that the relationship between a man and a woman in marriage is naturally designed and sancti¿ed by God.

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And because it is made by God it cannot be changed by humans through laws. He also tries to show viewers that social hierarchies are made by God and are, therefore, permanent and sacred. Similarly, pastor Mthethwa says that human rights, and in particular, women’s rights, are incompatible with the laws of God and the Church. Mthethwa asks Batswana to choose God’s law and reject the new amended law. He quotes the same scripture that Moatlhodi has quoted above and goes further to say that: “we can’t change the law of God. When the word of God says man is the head of the woman that is how the word of God is; it cannot be changed by a person” (Mtethwa T18). An assumption that both speakers make is that all Batswana are (practising?) Christians. In this way, they ascribe all Batswana a Christian identity and its associated cultural and religious practices. These speakers are genericising through the use of inclusive pronouns as in “we are a nation on the side of God”, “we are a nation that believes in the faith…” By appealing to the Bible the speakers argue for the maintenance of those gender relations sanctioned by divine authority; and this they see as a strong enough warrant for the rejection for the new law which is seen as countering the laws of God. 7.5.

The topos of foreign ideas

This topos is based on the belief that changes in the Marriage Act are a result of ideas that do not originate in Botswana and, therefore, are counter-productive. This is rejects what could be positive intercultural cross-pollination and is related to the topoi of threat to morality and social order and threat to culture. In except 7, Mthethwa legitimates his call for the rejection of the new amended law by saying that it has a foreign origin, and since everything foreign has to be treated with caution; there is reason not to accept the reforms: Excerpt 7

Mthethwa (T32): Batswana ba tshwanetse gore re se lemoge ke gore re le Botswana nako tse dingwe re na le bothata ba gore dilo tse dingwe ga di tswe mo Botswana. Ke melao e e leng gore e ka ko ntle ga Botswana. Batswana need to know that sometimes we have the dif¿culties that some of these things do not originate in Botswana. They are laws that come from outside Botswana. (my translation)

I call this strategy ‘foreignisation’; by it, all potentially unacceptable or threatening ideas (which maybe progressive from a feminist perspective) are attributed to (harmful) foreign inÀuence. The outside world is blamed for most

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negative changes that take place in the society. An interesting dichotomy here is that, whereas the traditionalists are resentful to foreign inÀuence, the progressionists see it as the most reliable way through which the Botswana society could move ahead. For the progressionists, embracing ‘positive’ international values such as human and women’s rights is important for Botswana to be accepted as a member of the international community. In excerpt 8, Mthethwa further argues that the introduction of unwanted foreign practices could well be the beginning of disintegration of the marital institution itself, where there will be no more reference to husband and wife: Excerpt 8 Mthethwa (T32): […] jaaka rra ke ka e baya ka tlhamalalo ke re er mo mahatshing a mangwe a a tlhabologileng er ka ha a buiwang ka teng, kgang e ya lenyalo jaaka re e itse e setse e senyegile. […]Jaanong ha se ke lekang go se tlhagisa ke gone hela gore ha gongwe re ka ntsha lehoko le le reng ‘rre’ kana ‘husband’, mme ha o e lebelela, rona ba re lebelang ko ko pele re kgona go bona gore goo mo ke paakanyetso ya gore e tle e re goo gongwe ko isagong, go bo go sena ‘husband’ go sena ‘wife.’ […]Jaanong e tle e re ke bua ke re kgang e ya ditshwanelo is not necessarily gore ke selo sa Modimo. As I can put it this way sir, in a straight way and say er in some developed countries, the way they are talking about this issue of marriage, the way we know it has been destroyed […] Now, what I am trying to warn against is that we may destroy the words ‘man’ and ‘husband’ and if you are observant, those of us who look ahead we can see that all this is preparation for the future where there will no longer be ‘wife’ and ‘husband’ […] Now, I sometimes say that the issue of rights is not necessarily a thing of God. (my translation)

Mthethwa’s aim is to construct a link between women’s rights and gay rights. The disappearance of the terms husband and wife suggests that there will already be homosexual marriages. If these rights are granted, he believes, homosexuals would also want similar rights. This strategy resonates with Baker’s (2005) ‘thin end of the wedge’ discourse in which those who were against law reforms in the House of Lords (United Kingdom) claimed that if they gave in to gay people’s wishes for equality before the law gay people would keep demanding more and more. So those against female equality claim that after women’s equality there would be more coming and no end to the demands. Mthethwa’s strategy is also an appeal to Batswana’s homophobic sensibilities. He knows that he will score more points if he used these scare tactics by invoking homosexuality. It is worth noting here that though the gay rights movement is growing in Botswana, homosexual relationships are still criminal and could attract a penalty of up to 10 years in prison. Mthethwa also appeals

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to the people’s religious beliefs that presumably do not allow the practice of same sex relationships. The fear of the foreign is really, I argue, the fear of homosexuality. This comes out bluntly in minister Pheto’s turn in excerpt 9: Excerpt 9 Pheto (T46): There is something the pastor said that I wish to comment on that there is a concern that this is a way in which we are going to allow laws from outside countries where men marry each other and women marry each other. I say that is something we hate intensely in the law. We don’t agree with that as Batswana. We disagree with it completely. We don’t intend to move towards recognising gay and lesbian marriages. That is not the intention.

Because homosexuality is illegal in Botswana, it is also a taboo subject, associated with foreign culture. Even the minister, Pheto, who is very progressive in his arguments (see below) is aware of the people’s feelings about homosexuality and has to reassure them that gay rights are not part of the agenda in the amendment of laws. He is categorical, “…something we hate intensely”, in expressing his stance on the matter. References to homosexuality immediately remind people of the judgement passed by the Supreme Court in the homosexuality case between Kanane (a Motswana) and Graham Norrie (a British).2 Interestingly, the minister immediately aligns with the Tswana identity constructed by his opponents, the traditionalists, when it comes to the issue of homosexuality. The issue of foreign ideas is a powerful topos for the traditionalists especially because (male) foreigners are generally seen as a threat to (local male) members of Botswana society. Women who founded the women’s movement were highly educated members of the community. Some of them are married to foreign men, probably because they studied abroad and met their partners while studying or travelling internationally. As I have already shown above, these women are very often referred to as ‘women married to foreigners’ (Mokgwathi T258). Because they did not follow the Setswana marriage customs (excerpt 3, Mokwgathi T262) they are disquali¿ed as Tswana women. This de-legitimates not only their Tswana identity but also their position as spokespersons for Botswana women. They are also described as a “few, minority women” who are “incapable of managing their own families and marriages” (Mogagane T255), 2. Graham Norrie and Kanane were arrested in December 1994 and charged, under sections 164 and 167 of the Botswana Penal Code, with “engaging in unnatural acts and indecent practices between males”. Norrie pleaded guilty to the charge, was ¿ned and then left Botswana. See, Judgment in Kanane v. State 1995 BLR 94 (Botswana High Court 2003).

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and by implication, they are trying to destroy well-managed Setswana marriages. Ironically, sometimes the topoi contradict one another. For example, the topos of religion, in referring to the higher power of God and Christianity, is used to legitimate traditional gender relations in Botswana. However, Christianity is a ‘western’ religion, and could contradict the foreign ideas topos, which argues that outside beliefs are wrong and unwanted. Such contradictions are not highlighted in the debate, and suggest that the participants in the debate draw on topoi in a selective way in order to support their own arguments. This contradiction, like most of other contradictions in postcolonial continuities discussed in this volume (see the volume introduction), show that postcolonial communities form hybrid entities that are complete in their hybridity.

8.

Progressionists’ arguments for change and their legitimation

Attention is paid here to the strategies used by those in support of the law reforms, that is, Minister Pheto and Joyce Anderson – the progressionists. The equality and human rights argument is the dominant strategy the two speakers use to express their support for the new laws. 8.1.

The topos of collective consensus (inclusiveness) and localisation

The topos of collective consensus strategy used by the progressionsts consists in insisting that the law-making process is an all inclusive exercise that did not leave any stakeholders out. Minister Pheto, in excerpt 10, makes it clear that the law was not single-handedly designed by the government. Many other organisations were consulted. He, therefore, spreads responsibility for the law to other parties in a bid to reduce the negative bearings that go with the rejection of the law in certain quarters of the population. In a later turn (T23), Pheto, emphasising the collective consensus for the law, says that it was unanimously passed by Parliament. This means that since MPs are elected by the people, they represent them and so would not vote laws that disfavour them or put their ways of life at stake. Excerpt 10 Pheto (T6): Ee jaaka ha ke bua ke bontlha bongwe ja tiro ya puso, er re rerisanya re dirisanya le makgotla a a harologanyeng jaaka boEmang Basadi jaana, boWomen’s Coalition, er ba ba ma makgotla a harologanyeng hela a bomme ka ha le bone ba neng ba tshwenyega ka teng.

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Yes, as I say this is part of government work, we consulted and worked with various organisations such as Emang Basadi, Women’s Coalition, different women’s organisations in the way they were concerned [about gender inequalities enshrined in the law]. (my translation)

This collective consensus strategy contrasts with, or is meant to counter the argument advanced by the traditionalists that the law reforms represented the voices of a few women – the educated, married to non-Botswana men. In a further bid to counter the foreignisation argument used by the traditionalists, Pheto lists only local organisations, especially women’s movements, which were consulted on the law. His aim is to show that the ideas borne in the law are home grown and hence well meant; they are not imposed by a foreign body; and they are not modelled on a foreign ideal. This strategy has been referred to here as ‘localisation’. Anderson, in excerpt 11, emphasises on the localisation argument by extending the collective consensus for the reforms beyond organisations to include individuals on the streets, normal men, women, sisters and children in households. The reforms, she insists, came from Batswana – the people of Botswana – who felt they had suffered a lot under the old law, e.g. men’s ability to sell the family home without consulting their wives. By implication, the traditionalists have no reason to complain because the law, through the collective support of the people, took care of their worries. Excerpt 11 Anderson (T36) […] Nne go sa tswe ko ntle. Nne go tswa mo Batswaneng. Batswana go lemogiwa gore, go lemoga le bone borre tota, gore basadi, bana ba bone le bokgaitsadiabone ba mo mathateng. Ka gore er borre ba tsaya tshono ya go rekisa dithoto tsa lelwapa. Le ha go ntse go twe tota motse wa lelwapa ga o rekisiwe mme ka gore go ne go setse go tsenye mabaka a gore batho ba itse madi gore ha ke rekisa motse o madi a tlaa mpoela. It [the idea] did not come from outside. It came from Batswana. Batswana, it was realised that, even the men realised it; that their wives, their children and their sisters are in trouble. By the way, men had the opportunity to sell household property. And even though we know that the family home should not be sold it had come to a point where people realised that their homes could give them money. (my translation)

The way Anderson frames her turn is persuasive in that she shows that oppression in marriage does not occur to unknown women but indeed to our sisters and children. She targets the men, “even the men realised”, who are notoriously opposed to the reforms given that it curtails their privileges as family head.

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8.2.

The topos of justice and human rights

The topos of justice and human rights justi¿es the reforms by showing that they conform to the country’s supreme law, which declares equality for all persons. In excerpt 12 (T19) below, Pheto appeals to his fellow panellists’ and the viewers’ sense of justice to legitimate his viewpoint and persuade them to align with him. For him, the old Marriage Act was against the principles of the Botswana Constitution. By appealing to the authority of the Constitution, the minister argues that if the marriage law is to be valid and just, it has to be in harmony with the principle of the Botswana Constitution which guarantees every person individual freedoms regardless of religion, colour, creed, or sex. He, therefore, quotes directly from the relevant section of the Botswana Constitution: Excerpt 12 Pheto (T19): Mme gape re batla go gatelelela rra ra re kana re na le molao motheo wa lehatshe le la Botswana. Er kgato ya ntlha, Chapter one ya Constitution ya Botswana ke article three. E bua hela e re, ha nka quota se e se buang, “Every person in Botswana is entitled to fundamental rights and freedoms of the individual, that is to say the right whatever his race, place of origin, political opinions, colour, creed or sex” er close quote. Se re se buang ha ke gore batho ba nne le tekatekano. A batho ba lekane ka dithata[….] And I want to emphasise, Sir, that we are saying that the supreme law of this country, er Chapter one Article three of the Botswana Constitution says, “Every person in Botswana is entitled to fundamental rights and freedoms of the individual, that is to say, the right whatever his race, place of origin, political opinions, colour, creed or sex” er close quote. What we are saying here is that we make people equal. Let people have equal powers. (my translation)

Related to this is the political topos in which Anderson (excerpt 13), as a supporter of the law reforms, hails the changes as an advancement in democracy. Beyond equality in the home, Anderson sees equality in the running of the country – what she refers to as democracy. Aware, perhaps, of the dif¿culties in maintaining this political analogy, she relativises it, “I don’t mean physical equality”, and makes it rather vague. Excerpt 13 Anderson (T10): Ee nna rra maikutlo ame a ko godimo thata ka boitumelo ke gore ke mongwe wa batho ba ba sa bolong go bua ka molao o gore tota o kgoreletsa tsamaiso sentle ya puso ya batho ka batho ka batho. Ya gore batho ba lemoge gore ba ka tshela mmogo ka tekatekano. Tota ga ke reye tekatekano ya marapo, tekatekano ya botshelo ya gore le gone yo mongwe o ka thusa yo

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mongwe sentle yo mongwe le ene a thusa yo mongwe sentle ka tsamaiso e e lolameng kana ya lelwapa kana ya molao ka ha ntle ga lelwapa. Yes, me, Sir, my emotions are very high with joy because I am one of the people who have long talked about how the [old] law impeded the smooth running of our democracy. The democracy that people should realise they can live together in equality. Really, I don’t mean physical equality, I mean the equality of life that one can help the other and the other help another properly in the proper running of the home and outside the home. (my translation)

8.3.

The feminist topos

The feminist topos targets issues of discrimination against women. Through this topos the two progressionists speakers further articulate the equality argument. This topos overlaps other topoi such as law and justice and human and women’s rights since it considers discrimination just as bad as murder. By invoking this comparison to stabbing with a knife and shooting with a gun, Pheto, legitimises his support for a change to the old law which could be said to be responsible for murdering women. This is intensi¿ed by his use of a clearly hyperbolic reference to the supposed “excessive powers” of the husband as a form of murder. Although, excerpt 14, does not make a clear reference to husband or wife, it is clear from the context and also from his earlier and later turns what he is referring to. Excerpt 14 Pheto (T71): kana go bolaya motho ha ga se go er mo tlhaba motho ka thipa kana go mo hula ka tlhobolo hela, polao e ka nna e e leng gore e senya botshelo ja batho ba mo eleng gore yo mongwe dithata tsa gagwe ke tse di heteletseng thata thata, ka ha re buang ka teng. By the way to kill a person does not just mean stabbing them with a knife or shooting them with a gun, murder could mean the destruction of someone’s life such as one person has excessive powers, that is what we say. (my translation)

The other feminist argument that Pheto (excerpt 15) uses is that the old law treated women as though they were children (see also Molokomme et al. 1998). It is the spirit of the new law, he claims, to raise the wife from the level of a child, because she indeed is not a child, to level of a partner in the marriage. We again see the equality argument resurfacing in this excerpt.

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Sibonile Edith Ellece Excerpt 15 Pheto (T38): (interrupts presenter) ee rra, ee ke ne ke… ke ne ke batla go gatelela thata gore kana se re se tlosang mo common law er marriage as it stands now, ka ha e ntseng ka teng ke gore mme e be e le gore ke ngwana mo lapeng, ga se molekane wa monna wa gagwe. Yes sir, yes, I was … I wanted to emphasise much that what we are removing from the common law er, marriage as it stands now, the way it is is that the wife is the child in the house, not her husband’s equal… (my translation)

With this argument Pheto takes a critical feminist stance that challenges the traditional ‘wife as child’ discourse (Ellece 2007) in which a married woman is constructed and treated as the ¿rst child of her husband (Report of the Law Reform Committee 1986, Molokomme et al. 1998). He makes a link between the Marriage Act before it was amended and the status of the woman under that law and explicitly points to the relationship between institutional practice and gender relations within marriage in Botswana. This indicates that institutional practice shapes gender relations. As excerpt 16 illustrates, Pheto challenges the earlier references to the Bible by the traditionalists, especially Moatlhodi and Mthethwa, when they quoted the Bible as saying that women should submit to their husbands. Even though he does not quote the Bible himself in excerpt 16, he makes allusion to it and rede¿nes equality as consultation. Almost contradicting the stance of the progressionists, he gives the impression that the law is not interested in hierarchy in the home, in who “takes him/herself as above the other”, but in consultation between husband and wife. What we can read out of this is that, he, as a man – a Motswana – is still inherently attached to his cultural norms and identity, which prohibit a man to be a wet log. He apparently supports the law because of his position as government minister. Without purporting that this is a valid interpretation, it, however, accentuates the hybrid nature of postcolonial citizens who from day to day and in different contexts have to defend the constitutive (sometimes opposing) parts of their being. Excerpt 16 Pheto (T4): Ga re ise re re mme ga a tshwanela go tlotla er monna wa gagwe, mme e bile se re e gatelelang ha rona ra re er morero. Jaanong gore yo er mongwe o itsaya jang mo lapeng a o itsaya a le ko morago ga yo mongwe ampo a le ko pele ga yo mongwe ampo a le tlhogo kgotsa a le mogatla wa yo mongwe, ga se se molao o se buang.

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We have not said that a wife should not respect her husband, and what we are really emphasising is er consultation. Now as to how each positions themselves in the home, whether she/he takes him/herself as above the other, or as the head or the tail of the other, is not what the law says. (my translation)

Contrary to expectations, the minister does not re-af¿rm the equality argument identi¿ed with the progressionists. For him, it is not the concern of the law if the man is the tail or the head or vice versa. The cultural sphere of power seems to interfere in the way he interprets the new law. We go away with the impression that the law calls for equality but does not determine the roles partners play in the household. But, if someone plays the role of a head and another the tail, it means the old status quo is still in place. The questions we ask, given that Botswana like most other African and postcolonial countries, has a communal, group-based culture in which an individual’s problem is effectively the community’s problem, are: are laws really effective? Aren’t they pieces of legislation that are used only on the few who stray into the judicial system? Will marital problems still not be solved by in-laws and in more dif¿cult cases by the chiefs – except perhaps women married to non-Botswana men?

9.

Conclusion

This chapter set out to describe arguments used to construct and legitimate particular relations between men and women as part of the Tswana identity. These arguments, whether for or against the marital law reforms, show tension between the local culture and the global culture as Botswana interacts with the world in this era of globalisation. As Besnier (2007: 70) asserts, “the global and the local are in a mutually constitutive relationship, in which local arrangements and global ones constantly de¿ne and challenge one another”. Speakers also draw on the assumption that “localness is well de¿ned; that there exists a natural and unproblematic mapping among code, territory and community” as well as that “the global is necessarily a threat to the local” (Besnier 2007: 74). Contradictions characterise the arguments as the foreign Christian religion is embraced (as indeed are other aspects of imported culture) and yet ideas about spousal equality are rejected as foreign. Those in favour of law reforms argue for a more progressive Tswana culture which embraces any ideas, foreign or local, that could lead to Tswana society being more democratic and inclusive. As sustained in the discussion of identity above, postcolonial discourses are characterised by tensions and internal contradictions as new and old cultures wrestle for ascendancy. As the arguments of the panellists show, there is no pure Tswana cultural identity, which is what the opponents of the law reforms,

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the traditionalists, want the audience to believe. Rather, Tswana culture is a hybrid between traditional pre-colonial cultures and cultures borrowed from former colonies. The use of the Roman Dutch law in Botswana is an example of how the coloniser inÀuenced the colonised. As a result such a law will always be constructed by some as anti-culture and by others as compatible with modern day Botswana. I argue, therefore, that the de¿nition of Tswana culture (and by extension Tswana identity) through the incongruent arguments presented by the panellists is contradictory and exceedingly unpredictable. The contradictions in the discourses articulated in the debates are symptoms of cultural change. As Fairclough (1992) indicates, discourse contributes to the maintenance of the status quo as well as to its transformation. Traditional discourses articulated by opponents of the law reforms tend to seek to maintain the traditional status quo, which is to have the man as the head and decision maker in the family, while those articulated by supporters of the law reforms seek to transform it by arguing for equality. The processes of identi¿cation are, therefore, continuous as no meaning can ever be ¿xed.

References Atanga, L. Lilian 2007 Gendered Discourses in the Cameroonian Parliament. Unpublished PhD Thesis, Lancaster University. Baker, Paul 2005 Public Discourses of Gay Men. London: Routledge. Besnier, Niko 2007 Language and gender research at the intersection of the global and the local. Language and Gender 1(1): 67 – 78. Butler, Judith 1990 Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. New York: Routledge. Cole, Desmond T. 1955 An Introduction to Tswana Grammar. Johannesburg: Longman. Ellece, Sibonile E. 2007 Gendered Marriage Discourses in Botswana: A CDA Approach. Unpublished PhD Thesis, Lancaster University. Fairclough, Norman 1992 Discourse and Social Change. London: Polity. Fowler, Roger and Robert Hodge 1979 Critical linguistics. In Fowler, Roger et al. (eds.), pp. 185 – 213.

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Fowler, Roger, Robert Hodge, Gunther Kress and Tony Trew 1979 Language and Control. London: Routledge and Kegan. Halliday, Michael A. K. 1979 Language as Social Semiotic: The Social Interpretation of Language and Meaning. London: Edward Arnold. Lewis, M. Paul (ed.) 2009 Ethnologue: Languages of the World. 16th edition. Dallas, Tex.: SIL International. Online version: www.ethnologue.com. Accessed, June 10th, 2009. Mokomane, Zitha S. 2001 Laws affecting unmarried and married women in Botswana: A theoretical review. Paper presented at the International Colloquium: Gender, Population and Development in Africa. Abidjan, 16 – 21 July. Molokomme, Athalia 1990 Women’s law in Botswana: Laws and research needs. In: Stewart, J. and A. Armstrong (eds.), The Legal Situation of Women in Southern Africa. Harare: University of Zimbabwe. Molokomme, Athalia et al. 1998 Draft Report on a Review of all Laws Affecting Women in Botswana. Gaborone: Women’s Affairs Department (Ministry of Home Affairs). Otlogetswe, Thapelo J. 2004 The BNC as a model for a Setswana Language Corpus. In: Lee, M. (ed.), Proceedings of the 7th Annual Colloquium for the UK Special Interest Group for Computational Linguistics. University of Birmingham. 193 – 198. Reisigl, Martin and Ruth Wodak 2001 Discourse and Discrimination: Rhetorics of Racism and Anti-Semitism. London: Routledge. Report of the Law Reform Committee June 1986. Gaborone: Botswana Government Press. Sunderland, Jane 2004 Gendered Discourses. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Eemeren, van Frans H. and Grootendorst Rob 1983 Speech Acts in Argumentative Discussions: A Theoretical Model for the Analysis of Discussions Directed Towards Solving ConÀicts of Opinion. Dordrecht: Foris Publications. van Leeuwen, Teun and Ruth Wodak 1999 Legitimising immigration control: A discourse historical approach. Discourse Studies 1: 83 – 118. Wodak, Ruth 2002 The discourse historical approach. In: Wodak, Ruth and Michael Meyer (eds.) Methods of Critical Discourse Analysis. London: Sage. 63 – 95.

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Wodak, Ruth 2003 Multiple identities: The roles of female parliamentarians in the EU Parliament. In: Holmes, Janet and Miriam Meyerhoff (eds.), The Handbook of Gender and Language. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 671 – 698. Wodak, Ruth et al. 1999 The Discursive Construction of National Identity. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.

Chapter 4 The English language and the construction of a Cameroon anglophone identity Eric A. Anchimbe

1.

Introduction The Vice-Prime Minister, Minister of Justice and Keeper of the Seals in what is obviously a Àagrant violation of the constitution of the country sent shock waves through English-speaking Cameroonians by banning the use of English during his press conference in Yaounde last Friday, January 5. (V.N. Mbai, The Post, January 8, 2007) […] nous assistons à l’impérialisme linguistique de certaines langues, il n’est pas inutile de préserver un espace où l’on parle français. (Paul Biya, interview on France 24, November 2007)

The two quotes above, uttered in the year 2007, reveal two opposing positions about the status of two languages operating within the same country as of¿cial languages under a state bilingualism language policy. The two speakers seem to belong to two (opposing) poles, with each trying to project the importance of the language to which he belongs and at the same time deploring the pervasiveness of the other. These two languages are French and English. The two speakers interestingly are very unequal in political strength: the ¿rst is a reporter and the second is a head of state. The country, their country of origin, is Cameroon. But one thing makes them Cameroonians of different and conÀicting belonging: the of¿cial language they each belong to, evident of course in the position they take in the excerpts above. The use of strongly worded emotional statements like “Àagrant violation of the constitution […] shock waves” and “l’impérialisme linguistique” by the two speakers shows that the languages they come up to defend represent identity signposts for them. These identities, built on two international, postcolonial languages, simply show the extent to which sociopolitical disputes within the country have extended to the linguistic realm and are hence expressed through

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various forms of linguistic victimisation. The political entities which reunited to form the then Federal Republic of Cameroon at the end of colonialism in 1961, now form themselves into identity in-groups on the basis of their colonial (language) belonging: French Cameroon now the francophones, and British Southern Cameroons now the anglophones. This makes Cameroon an odd entity in the common postcolonial binaries discussed in the introductory chapter of this book. These binaries which function in opposition include indigenous languages and cultures versus colonially introduced languages and cultures and indigenous values versus western values. Cameroonians, it is clear, are ¿rst of all anglophones and francophones before being, if the need arises, Cameroonians or Africans. The aim of this chapter is to show at what point the anglophones consider themselves an identity entity through their use of English. In other words, how strong is the English language variable in the construction and consolidation of a Cameroon anglophone identity? Is this linguistic border strong enough to keep away non-group francophones, who, from a political point of view, are considered opponents or in some quarters oppressors? What then is the place of the over 270 indigenous languages in this identity battle? These questions form the basis of this chapter and will be answered with reference to certain socio-political issues that have put these identities to a test in the past three decades. A close look at The Buea Declaration – the ¿rst of¿cial document on the marginalisation of the anglophones – will reveal the importance anglophones attach to English as their in-group marker.

2.

Linguistic identities: To speak or not to speak others’ languages C’est simplement parce qu’il s’est exprimé en anglais. On ne va pas fonder le monde de demain sur une seule langue et donc une seule culture, ce serait une régression dramatique. Nous nous battons pour notre langue. Ce n’est pas seulement l’intérêt national, c’est l’intérêt de la culture, c’est l’intérêt du dialogue des cultures. (Jacques Chirac, interview after the EU trade summit in Brussels, 2006) I have to say I was profoundly shocked to see a Frenchman express himself in English at the [EU] Council table. That’s why the French delegation and myself walked out rather than listen to that. (Jacques Chirac, interview after the EU trade summit in Brussels, 2006)

‘To speak or not to speak others’ language(s)?’ is an inescapable question in the delineation of identity, especially in multilingual communities where linguistic communities are constantly in competition or conÀict. Interestingly, the above

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statement was not made in the notoriously multilingual societies typi¿ed in sociolinguistic research (Africa, South East Asia, and the Caribbean) but in central Europe. With its elastic linguistic policy, it would have been expected that the use of any of the many EU of¿cial languages would not meet a radical repudiation as that shown by former president Jacques Chirac. His reason for storming out of the meeting is that “we cannot afford to build the future on one language and culture”, i.e. the English language and culture. To him, there must be a sphere in which cultures can dialogue, even beyond the limits of nationhood, and to achieve this we must not all Àock to one culture. The question that comes up in relation to the above is: How well can postcolonial nationals, who inherited some of these European languages and now have them as of¿cial media, create similar sociocultural identity and emotional attachment to them? Do these languages carry a culture that could be attributed to these regions, irrespective of what they represent in their European origins? Why should anglophone Cameroonians feel excluded from francophone circles simply because they speak English, and perhaps vice versa? The relationship between language and identity provides answers to these questions. As LePage and Tabouret-Keller (1985) already make clear, language acts are acts of identity. Our ways of speaking as well as the languages we speak could be used to identify us or vice versa. This is especially true because, as Tabouret-Keller (1998: 317) explains, “a single phonemic feature may be suf¿cient to include or exclude somebody from a social group”. First of all, these two languages have been signi¿cantly nativised to the sociocultural environment of Cameroon to a point where Cameroonians no longer think of them as either repressive colonial tools or foreign codes (see Simo Bobda 1994, Anchimbe 2006a for Cameroon English and Mendo Ze 1999 and Biloa 2003 for Cameroon French). Second, the desire to thrive in political dif¿culties has pushed them to solidify in-group (linguistic) boundaries on basis of these two languages. Third, the much talk about bilingualism in the country is more a societal rather than an individual status, making linguistic boundaries to be charted on these languages and even geographical basis. As a result, the over 200 ethnic groups with their distinct cultures seem to have merged into two superordinate cultures built on these two of¿cial languages. These superordinate cultures, it must be emphasised, are not in any signi¿cant way modelled on French or British1 cultures, but are hybridised entities that bear signs of precolonial and colonial ways of life. 1. The anglophones, nevertheless, claim strong attachment to, and af¿nity with, Britain and what they often refer to as the Anglo-Saxon culture. For instance, the University of Buea is referred to as an Anglo-Saxon-styled university.

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The type of linguistic victimisation carried out by Chirac in the above excerpts is also common in Cameroon and is sometimes even worse; despite the fact that no Cameroonian claims ancestry to any of these languages. In anglophone as well francophone towns, there is a subtle attitudinal warfare that involves repudiating the other and their language (and perhaps culture too). The anglophones conceive of the francophones as cheats, political usurpers responsible for their marginalisation and so consider speaking French as further stooping to this marginalisation.2 The francophones, on their part, regard the anglophones as political opponents, who will stop at nothing to oppose them. English for them is a tool of these opponents. Keeping them at bay, therefore, implies keeping English too at bay. The two groups (though with inherent differences within them) keep reinforcing these identities, which unfortunately, given the diversity within each of the groups, are held together by language. And doing this is best achieved by ‘not speaking the other’s language’.

3.

Language, ethnicity and social grouping

Several works have been published that study the intersection of language, ethnicity, race, culture, and identity. Attention has been paid to predominantly monolingual communities and multilingual societies in which speakers switch identities as they switch to other languages. Fishman (1989: 7), for instance, believes that “at every stage, ethnicity is linked to language, whether indexically, implementationally or symbolically.” This is true as long as we accept that ethnicity does not preclude bi- or multilingualism. But if ethnicity is exclusive and prevents speakers from speaking many languages without necessarily ethnically identifying with them, then multilinguals would not operate convincingly in their competitive societies. Members of multilingual societies often construct identities that stretch across ethnic ties. In this regard, LePage and Tabouret-Keller (1985) talk of acts of identity in Creole communities. Anchimbe (2006b), in the case of postcolonial communities, comes up with the notion of identity opportunism in which multilingual speakers in competing postcolonial linguistic communities switch to the identities of the in-group whose language they temporarily switch to in order to bene¿t from the group. This makes a clear de¿nition of patterns of social and linguistic identi¿cation 2. This is an ambiguous position because anglophones generally have to learn French if they must work in the francophone towns, including the capital city, Yaounde and the economic capital, Douala. For them, emotionally, it is treacherous but pragmatically and economically, it is unavoidable.

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very complex. It further shows that ethnicity is not always the major deciding factor. Economic survival, political security, and safety seem to be more important especially in multilingual communities in which skin colour does not necessarily betray racial or ethnic origin. We can, therefore, talk of differences in the relation between language, ethnicity and identity in monolingual and multilingual (especially postcolonial) societies. These differences are important for any analysis of linguistic victimisation or sociolinguistic exclusion or inclusion in these two types of societies. In the case of Cameroon, focus, as mentioned earlier, will be on its postcolonial linguistic heritage. Ethnicity is ruled out given that none of the speakers of either English or French in the country can claim ethnicity to these languages. Since these languages were introduced during colonialism, and are not ethnic to the country, in the strict sense of the term, focus, therefore, will be on how sociolinguistic in-groups have been formed on them. These in-groups are in a way, especially among the anglophones, growing into ethnic entities larger than the indigenous or ethnic language groups.

4.

Cameroon: A complicated linguistic history

As stated by Mufwene (2001), Makoni and Meinhof (2003), and Anchimbe (2006b), multilingualism in Africa started long before colonialism. Migration, trade, wars, and inter-ethnic marriages account for the mix of peoples and languages during pre-colonial days, when ethnic or racial entities were not distinguished on basis of nation-state but by their belonging together as cultural, linguistic and social groups. Cameroon, referred to often as Africa in miniature, still bears traces of these migrations. There is an estimated 200 ethnic groups in the country who use a total of about 270 ethnic languages. As Greenberg (1966) further points out, three of the four language families in Africa are found in Cameroon. Colonialism had two signi¿cant impacts on the linguistic status of the country: ¿rstly, it complicated the multilingual landscape by introducing written languages whose functions differed from the local oral indigenous languages; secondly, it increased avenues for the construction of linguistic (and social) identities. The arrival of French and English eclipsed the hitherto smaller identity boundaries around indigenous ethnic languages, making it possible for several ethnic groups to cluster together on grounds they share one of these languages. The outcome has been sentiments of attachment to French and English, which Anchimbe (2005) calls francophonism and anglophonism respectively.

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Table 1 below shows the current populations of the anglophones and francophones. Another outcome has been Àuctuations in identities since people often engage in identity opportunism in order to, 1) bene¿t from the group they are switching to, 2) avoid linguistic victimisation or exclusion, and 3) distil distrust in members of the group they are switching to. The anglophone group has over the years solidi¿ed its in-group boundaries to a point where, “the feeling of unity is so strong that, ǥbeing Anglophone’ denotes a new ethnicity, transcending older ethnic ties” (Wolf 2001: 223). This solidi¿cation entails creating religious, educational, cultural structures that target or are primarily reserved for the anglophones, especially in francophone towns. For more on the history and political impact of the anglophone identity consult Konings and Nyamnjoh (1997, 2003), Jua and Konings (2004). Table 1. Population of anglophones and francophones in Cameroon Groups

Population estimates

Percentage

Anglophones

3,712,583

19.5

Francophones

15,306,055

80.5

Total

19,018,638

100

The population estimates in Table 1 are taken from World Gazetteer (2008: www.world-gazetteer.com). The small size (numerical and geographical) of the anglophone in-group normally makes them the minority. As Figure 1 shows, they account for only 19.5% of the population. They occupy only two of the ten regions or provinces.3

Figure 1. Anglophones and francophones

3. Since November 2008, the administrative units previously called ‘Provinces’ were transformed into ‘Regions’ as part of the decentralisation scheme. I have used these two appellations interchangeably in this chapter.

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Although focus in this chapter is on of¿cial language identities, these are not the only identity signposts in the country. The of¿cial language identities take forestage, however, because they have been exploited for political gains. As explained in Anchimbe (2006b), four main linguistic identity signposts could be spotted in Cameroon. These function as boundaries within which each group ¿nds safety from the generally suspicious multilingual environment. These boundaries are: indigenous language boundaries: ethnic identity, of¿cial language boundaries: anglophone or francophone identity, English-French bilingualism boundaries: bilingual identity, social esteem boundaries: individual identity. In a sense, the languages in the country, except perhaps Cameroon Pidgin, provide linguistic in-group boundaries for their speakers. At all levels in these identities, there is exclusion and inclusion, sometimes due to the need to construct convenience boundaries to achieve momentary access to the group. These identities could be represented as in Figure 2 below. 200 ethnic groups 270 native languages

Native language identity

Bilingual (EnglishFrench) identity

Official language identity

Anglophones

Dual (nativeofficial language) identity

Individual (foreign) identity

Francophones

Many native language identities

Figure 2. Linguistic identities

The second tier in Figure 2 represents the different identities within the country. These tiers apply to both francophones and anglophones; what may differ are the languages involved. A further tier is added to the of¿cial language identity showing the two main groups opposed to one another. Though these two groups claim the of¿cial language identity, they still belong to different, and in some

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cases, conÀicting ethnic identities (for instance, the problems among anglophones). They, nevertheless, overcome these differences and conÀicts through their common use of the of¿cial language. It is not only language that gives people the sense of belonging together. Ethnicity, race, skin colour, body features, cultural practices, etc. also function as markers of identity (see Ross 1979, Giles and Coupland 1991, etc.). To these could be added natural geographical boundaries. These serve as physical gateways into the physical homeland, hometown, or own soil (as in son or daughter of the soil) and also the identity group constructed with these natural boundaries as icons. Many of such natural geographical icons have been used by Cameroonians to build convenience identity groups. These “[g]eophysical similarities are used to bridge the more glaring differences of languages, ethnicity, religions and cultural practices. Common among these”, Anchimbe (2006b: 250) says, “are references to regionally shared characteristics and natural boundaries.” During political campaigns and social crises, the following natural geographical elements are used to construct identities. These identities very often cut across ethnic boundaries and the anglophone-francophone of¿cial language divide that has strong historical (colonialism) origins. – the coastal people: South West (English-speaking) and Littoral (Frenchspeaking) provinces – the Grand North: three French-speaking northern provinces (predominantly Muslim) – the Grassland cultures, the Grass¿eld people: North West (English-speaking) and Western (French-speaking) provinces – the forest people: in opposition to the Grass¿eld people: South West province – on the other side of the (River) Moungo: River Moungo runs between the English- and French-speaking parts of the country None of these identities is foolproof binding. This explains why people generally turn to them only when there is an interest at stake that is above the ethnic or of¿cial language identities. The next sections seek to locate the place of English in the construction of the anglophone identity. Although the two anglophone provinces are situated on the other side or perhaps preferably on this side of the Moungo, this geographical marker is not enough to create an in-group that easily ¿lters out non members. The English language seems to be that element.

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5.

85

Historical origins of the anglophone identity

The construction of identity groups is generally provoked by social suspicion. Although social identities may be common in all societies, these are not often the outcome of people questioning their belonging, their origin, or their identity. These are generally occupational, regional, and generational (youth, elderly) groups that want to show they have something in common and not necessarily to keep off competing or opposing groups. However, in multilingual or immigrant societies, identity construction is often in reaction to social hostilities from other groups. As hostilities intensify, so do groups tighten their identity boundaries. In situations where certain languages are imposed on people, the construction of identities may result in opposition camps that use their marginalized language to ¿ght for their linguistic human rights. Kassahun Checole, organiser of the Asmara, Eritrea 2000 conference titled “Against all Odds: African Languages and Literature into the 21st Century” declared in his opening speech : “If you take away my right to speak my own language by mandating another language […], you pull me out of circulation; you take me out of the dialogue” (qtd Omoniyi 2003: 13). The anglophones in Cameroon intensi¿ed feelings of an in-group in the early 1990s when multiparty politics was authorised. This period, which Konings and Nyamnjoh (1997: 207) term “the political liberalisation process,” saw anglophones complain of unequal treatment in the predominantly francophone administration, especially in appointment to government positions, the disproportionate representation in state agencies, the army, diplomatic missions, etc. All of these complaints have been summed up in the expression, “The Anglophone Problem” (for more see Konings and Nyamnjoh 1997, Anchimbe 2005). A brief historical sketch of the relationship between these two communities will help understand the origin of the animosities between them. At the end of the First World War, the German territory Kamerun was shared between France and Britain. France gave up some of its smaller holdings in West Africa to take a greater part of Kamerun which it added to its Central Africa territories. Britain took two other smaller patches of what was left, i.e. British Northern Cameroons and British Southern Cameroons, which it administered from its Nigerian headquarters. At the time of independence in 1961, British Northern Cameroons voted to join Nigeria while British Southern Cameroons (the present-day anglophone provinces: North West and South West) voted to reunite with Cameroun (the former French colony). Franco-British colonialism could be said to be the beginning of the francophone-anglophone problems in the country today, and their search for identities that keep the other out. Although the two territories accepted to reunify in 1961 as a Federal Re-

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public, they still maintained their of¿cial languages: i.e. English for the former British colony and French for the former French colony. During this period, there was no social discontent since each group had adequate autonomy and control over its policies. In 1972, the two federal states decided to form a united republic. This ended federalism and launched an era in which both would try to ¿nd a common national identity that surpasses the regional identities built over decades of colonialism and federalism. The return to multiparty politics in 1990 was the peak of this search. It had two great historical landmarks in the anglophones’ quest for an identity and the disdain the francophones harboured for them: 1) the launch of the Social Democratic Front (SDF) political party in Bamenda, and 2) the post-1992 presidential election strikes (ghost towns), violence, and state of emergency in Bamenda and the rest of the North West Province (see Konings and Nyamnjoh 2003, Jua and Konings 2004, and Anchimbe 2005). The outcomes have been far-reaching, worsening the mutual suspicion and distrust that had cropped into the relationship between the anglophones and the francophones. 5.1.

Mutual suspicion

Since the early 1990s, both groups have been involved in circles of mutual suspicion. Each has stereotypes of the other, even up to the highest level of the administration. These stereotypes have been extended to the language each group speaks, and are responsible for resistance to learning them by school children and government workers. The low level of bilingualism in both of¿cial languages could also be attributed to this mutual suspicion. The impact is also strongly felt in the way members of each group treat members of the other group in government of¿ces. It has resulted in many forms of linguistic victimisation. In some cases, interlocutors are obliged to speak the of¿cial language of the government of¿cial, and if they do not, they are not served. The following excerpts show how each group conceives of itself and the other. In his discussion of francophone “Anglophobia”, Ngome (1993: 28) makes the following observation: Anglophones see Francophones as fundamentally fraudulent, super¿cial and given to bending rules: cheating of exams, jumping queues, rigging elections and so on […] The Francophones are irked by what they see as the Anglophone air of self-righteousness and intellectual superiority.

Ngome shows how anglophones attribute positive qualities to themselves and negative ones to the francophones – the group they consider is opposed to them

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or the group oppressing or colonising them (Chia 1990). Chia (1990: 2), wrote during the hot political upheavals of the early 1990s. He criticises the dependent attitude of the francophones blaming it on the neo-colonial presence of France. He emphasises the positive attributes the anglophones hold for themselves. This phenomenon is typical of competing groups in mixed societies. It is a means of sanitising the in-group’s stance and giving it the moral backing to oppose the other. The Francophone psycho-social background is neo-colonised and as such one must not expect them to be as independent-minded as the Anglophones. For instance, Anglophones see themselves as people who can live without depending on Britain and France for aid, but the Francophones do not even believe that they can run a simple administration in the civil service without the so-called expert direction from France. To blame them, nevertheless, is to condemn the deep French cultural alienation of Francophone Cameroon.

As a means of humiliating the anglophones, the francophones often refurbish the colonial link of British Southern Cameroons to Nigeria. Below, the Cameroonian ambassador to Belgium refers to her interlocutor from the South West Province as being part Nigerian and part Cameroonian (see Jua and Konings 2004). In similar humiliating situations, the francophones use other words like Biafra, les Biafrains, or insults like anglofou, and anglofools on the anglophones, who also retaliate with insulting appellations like frogs, francofou, and francofools. So, it has moved from just mutual suspicion to mutual insult. We recently heard the story that when told by a visitor that he hailed from Kumba, the economic capital of the South West Province in Anglophone Cameroon, the Cameroonian Ambassador to Belgium, Isabelle Bassong, exclaimed: “Oh, Kumba, donc vous êtes moitié Nigérien et moitié Camerounais”.

This mutual suspicion goes even beyond competence in both languages. Eyoh (1998: 263) reports the frustration of one of his interviewees (a young, welleducated anglophone lady), who is still exposed to linguistic victimisation even when she tries to pass for a francophone. Her accent unfortunately betrays her. No matter how bilingual you are, if you enter an of¿ce and demand something in French, because of your accent, the messenger may announce your arrival simply as ‘une Anglo’ or respond in a manner to mock. […] But the constant reminder that as an Anglophone you are different creates the impression that we are second-class citizens. That is what irritates Anglophone elites. You can imagine the frustration of older and less educated Anglophones who have to deal with a bureaucracy which operates mostly in French and state of¿cials who are so rude to the people they are supposed to serve.

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The response of the anglophones has been outstanding. They have refused to be treated as second class citizens and have been involved in several protests activities that show their discontent. This has forced them into building a group that is united most strongly by the commonality of English. I will refer to just two of such activities. First, two All Anglophones Conferences were held in Buea (1993) and Bamenda (1994). The Buea conference had the aim of “adopting a common anglophone stand on constitutional reform and of examining several other matters related to the welfare of ourselves, our Posterity, our Territory and the entire Cameroon Nation” (The Buea Declaration). It came out with The Buea Declaration, which listed recommendations for change in the treatment of the anglophones by the predominantly francophone administration. If these recommendations were not met “in a reasonable time”, then the second conference would be convened, whose aim would be to work towards the autonomy of the former British colony. Because the government refused to acknowledge there was an anglophone problem, the Bamenda conference was convened. Here groundwork was made for secession. Second, the Southern Cameroons National Council (SCNC) formed during the Bamenda conference has launched a bid for secession. Although this was not supported by the SDF, the main anglophone opposition political party, it deepened the rift between the anglophones and francophones, giving them good reasons to intensify the stereotyping and linguistic victimisation. The anglophones have projected English, their claim to the Anglo-Saxon culture, their spirit of the force of argument (and not argument of force as the francophones, they claim), and the respect of law as in-group attributes.

6.

The claim to an anglophone identity

This section identi¿es the qualities and icons that make the anglophones to cluster together as a group. The main marker of this identity, as mentioned before, is their common use of English, which they inherited from British colonial rule. Evidence for this will be provided from The Buea Declaration published after the First All Anglophones Conference in 1993. Due to the historical disputes outlined above, the anglophones in Cameroon have come to consider themselves as a homogenous near-ethnic entity, held together not only by the commonality of English but also by several cultural and ethical values. These values, they claim, make them different from, and thus better than, the francophones. Spread across only two of the ten provinces or regions of the country and occupying less than a third of the population (see

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Table 1 and Figure 1), the anglophones are always united in their resistance or opposition to francophone hegemony. They claim to belong to the AngloSaxon culture by virtue of colonialism. This culture, as they hold it, de¿nes the basic characteristics of this identity: – – – – – – –

Orderliness and respect for the law and others Systematic and consistent in doing things Well-behaved and good training in childhood Successful through hard work Open to dialogue and the force of argument Intellectually independent and Àexible Force of argument rather than argument of force

This identity is de¿ned by use of the common law system, which stipulates a person is not guilty until proven guilty as opposed to French law in which a person is ¿rst of all guilty until proven otherwise. This is the basis for free speech both in court and out on the street. It perhaps explains why the anglophones are often ready to take on strike actions to resolve crises. The English language and institutions created with English as major medium of instruction are at the centre of the anglophone identity. The curriculum of the University of Buea (UB) is almost exclusively in English. A running footer on the university’s website reads “UB: The Place to be. The Seat of English-speaking Higher Education in Cameroon”. In the past half decade many English-medium private nursery and primary schools have been created in francophone urban centres to carter primarily for needs of anglophones. These schools take much pride in offering English-only education. These schools are considered the only ‘safe’ places where anglophone children could grow up or develop strictly according to anglophone ideals without being intoxicated by francophone realities. Interestingly, these schools have more francophone children than anglophones (see Anchimbe 2005, 2007a and Mforteh 2007). The Buea Declaration made several claims about the marginalisation of the anglophones’ language, English. Any misfortune befalling English is interpreted as a direct attack on the anglophones. The Declaration decries the secondary role of English in of¿cial texts and documents: In spite of the of¿cially bilingual character of Cameroon, and in spite of its wide international spread and high international standing, English is treated as a secondary language in Cameroon. Of¿cial texts and documents are issued mainly, and often exclusively, in French.

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To the anglophones, pushing English to a secondary position is synonymous to pushing them, they for whom English is an identity marker, to a secondary position as well. The Declaration also makes reference to the broadcast of English programmes and events on national TV as opposed to French programmes: Broadcast time on Radio and Television is very unevenly divided between English and French programmes, even though it does not take longer to inform, educate or entertain in French than it does in English. In the end, Anglophones who share equally in the burden of ¿nancing Cameroon Radio and Television get far less than ¼ of the service provided by this public utility.

The Declaration traces the linguistic issue farther back into history, making it clear that anglophone marginalization is not a coincidence or a mishap of history but rather a well planned scheme aimed at assimilating and annihilating the anglophones. Reuni¿cation, therefore, could be considered the origin of the francophone-anglophone split that has now set up the country on two opposing and competing identity poles. The Declaration reveals in this line that: After reuni¿cation all cinema theatres in Victoria, Buea, Kumba and Bamenda and other Anglophone towns were compelled to show only French-language ¿lms. Television ¿lms and programmes originally made in English are shown in Cameroon only after they have been translated into French, and only in their French version.

The above claim makes it clear that the francophone administration has been involved in a systematic scheme of assimilating, or annulling anglophone feelings or identity. Forcing French-language ¿lms on people who had no competence in French at the time, i.e. 1972 cannot be interpreted otherwise. This has, especially in later years and spurred by political differences, rather solidi¿ed the anglophone identity. The use of the same ex-colonial of¿cial language has given rise to the notion of “Brother Nations”. Diplomatic documents make reference to some nations as “Brother Nations” but not others. As the Declaration further points out: Francophones forget that just as their “brotherliness” vis-à-vis Gabonese, Chadians etc. is enhanced by their common Francophone heritage, so do Anglophone Cameroonians feel “brotherliness” towards Nigerians born of a common Anglophone heritage.

Gabon, Chad, and other francophone countries are not only “Brothers” because of French colonialism but also because they use French like francophone Cameroon. The anglophones, faced with this, are hence pushed to refurbish their

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common English language heritage with neighbouring Nigeria. This is ambiguous because anglophone Cameroonians consider it a grave insult to be referred to as a Nigerian. This is a limited type of what Lim and Ansaldo (2007) refer to as “identity alignment” in their study of displaced postcolonial communities of the Sri Lankan Malays.

7.

How strong is this identity?

Linguistic identities in postcolonial multilingual and Creole-speaking communities are not ¿xed; there are constantly adjusting and adapting to changing realities (see LePage and Tabouret-Keller 1985, Anchimbe 2007b). The strength of these identities depends strongly on the opposition the group faces from competing groups. This, therefore, means that communities that claim a common identity may still have cones of smaller identity groups within them. These smaller cones are the strict, impenetrable, generally, ethnic bonds smoothed by the use of a common ethnic or indigenous language. The anglophones in Cameroon though united as an English-speaking community, still function on basis of cones of identities at the ethnic, cultural, provincial and also the geographical speci¿city level. As mentioned earlier, they still remain bound together strongly enough when countered by francophones. Or put differently, they quickly fall back to their of¿cial language identity each time the francophones pose a threat. But among the anglophones themselves there are many disuniting problems that seem to make it dif¿cult to believe they claim a common heritage almost on the basis of ethnicity. This has led to the use of geographical and cultural characteristics to differentiate or to exclude other anglophones from certain anglophone in-groups. For instance, the two English-speaking provinces often ¿nd themselves opposed to each other in political issues. The South West Province considers the Social Democratic Front a typically North West party. As a result, a few parties were created to serve as South West parties on a par with the SDF. Again, to make a distinction between these two provinces, references such as the “gra¿” (grass¿elds) and the “sawa” (the sawa cultures from Douala down the coast to Limbe) have emerged and are often used derogatorily. The “come-no-go” issue was a strong indication that the anglophones were only united inasmuch as the francophones posed a threat to them – since for most government agencies, the two anglophone provinces are treated as one region. The “come-no-go” was an attempt by the South West provincial administration to force out of the province North Westerners who had migrated to the South West province as labour force for the colonial plantations, i.e. the Cameroon

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Development Corporation (CDC). It has, ever since, been a major rift in the relations between these two anglophone regions. Besides these provincial disputes, ethnic groups or villages in the North West Province have been engaged in several unending inter-tribal wars that have led to loss of lives and destruction of property. A recurrent conÀict on these lines is the Bali-Kumbat vs. Bafanji wars. A recent one (2007) was between Bali and Bawock. But beyond these ethnic or village levels, they still identify themselves as anglophones and are united in their struggle against francophone hegemony. The problems between the two anglophone provinces have somehow spread into diaspora communities from these provinces. These diasporas represent themselves and their anglophone identities online. They make a distinction between the North West (gra¿) and the South West (sawa). On the interactive columns of The Post Online Cameroon (newspaper: www.postnewsline.com) and Dibussi Tande’s Scribbles from the Den (www.dibussi.com) there are many reactions to ongoing crises in the country and on the anglophone-francophone divide. In the following excerpts, the two posters make reference to the anglophone-francophone and the gra¿-sawa problems. To the second poster (Ma Mary) – in reply to the ¿rst poster (SJ) – the gra¿-sawa problem is escalated by the francophones to keep the anglophones divided and hence subdued. SJ: Looking at the big picture negates the small picture and palavers of graf¿ and sawa, “northwest” and “southwest,” and it scares the apologists for this fatricidal jungle regime who would want the people of the Southern Cameroons to remain programmed in animus against each other. Ma Mary: How would you feel if a Francophone said the following (I simply changed the characters in your statement above)?: “Looking at the big picture negates the small picture and palavers of Anglo and Franco, “French Cameroons” and “British Cameroons,” and it scares the apologists for secession who would want the people of the bilingual Republic of Cameroon to remain programmed in animus against each other. (see www.dibussi.com/2007/01/can_cameroons_n.html. Accessed 10 November 2007).

8.

Conclusion

The future of an enduring anglophone identity based extensively on the use of English cannot be guaranteed on a hundred percent basis. No clear predictions can be made now given that the spread of English worldwide is still ongoing and may change communities beyond their natural sociocultural structures.

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One of such changes, as discussed by Anchimbe (2005) and Mforteh (2007), is the francophones’ continuous interest in, and learning of English. Francophone politicians strive to project themselves as bilingual in English and French. Many francophone parents are sending their children to English-only schools in Bamenda and Buea: two major anglophone towns. This notwithstanding, Paul Biya, the President of Cameroon, is determined to carve a haven in which French would continue to thrive in the face of what he refers to as “linguistic imperialism” by English: We have ancient ties, cultural ties, [with France] at a time when we are witnessing the linguistic imperialism of certain languages; it is worthwhile preserving a space where French is spoken”. President Paul Biya, interview on France 24 (November 2007)

The focus in this chapter has been on English and how it has been used by those in the former British Southern Cameroons as the major icon of their identi¿cation. Occupying just two of the ten provinces, anglophone Cameroonians use English to de¿ne themselves, to ¿ght for their rights, to exclude non-group members and above all to refurbish the links of unity created by colonialism. An ethnicity based on English and a claim to Anglo-Saxon culture has emerged, and is the springboard for opposition to the francophone-dominated administration. However, if English were to be taken away from this very multicultural and multilingual group, it would be left with more differences than similarities. But due to the overriding place of English as an identity marker, the strings of unity and similarity are still strong due to several reasons: 1) competition from the other major group, i.e. the francophones, 2) the ever growing strength of English internationally, and 3) the quest for lasting political, economic and social alliances. Grievances like the anglophone problem, the Southern Cameroons secession bid, among others, are connected to the search for a linguistic identity centred on the English language. The Buea Declaration (1993) touched signi¿cantly on the unequal use of French and English. This inequality is interpreted as intricately representative of the marginalization of the anglophones who are de¿ned in relation to their use of English. The above discussion has been based on the premise that the claim to any identity is incomplete if it is not accompanied by a language in which such an identity is expressed or transmitted. Since the late 19th century when imperialism was authorised at the Berlin conference of 1884, many European languages found their way into other parts of the world, especially Africa, Asia and the Caribbean. One of the outstanding outcomes of this expansion has been the creation of more identity attachment avenues in these languages. The anglophones

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in Cameroon ¿nd in English a larger identity sphere within which to express themselves and the postcolonial values they consider a part of them.

References All Anglophone Conference 1993 The Buea Declaration. Limbe: Nooremac Press. Anchimbe, Eric A. 2007a Linguabridity: Rede¿ning linguistic identities among children in urban areas. In: Anchimbe, Eric A., pp. 66 – 86. Anchimbe, Eric A. (ed.) 2007b Linguistic Identity in Postcolonial Multilingual Spaces. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Anchimbe, Eric A. 2006a Cameroon English: Authenticity, Ecology and Evolution. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. Anchimbe, Eric A. 2006b Hybrid linguistic identities in postcolonial Africa: The intricacy of identity opportunism in multilingual Cameroon. In: Heidemann, Frank and Afonso de Toro (eds.), New Hybridities: Societies and Cultures in Transition. Leipzig: Olms Verlag. 237 – 261. Anchimbe, Eric A. 2005 Anglophonism and francophonism: The stakes of (of¿cial) language identity in Cameroon. Alizés: Revue Angliciste de la Réunion 25/26: 7 – 26. Biloa, Edmond 2003 La langue française au Cameroun. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. Chia, Ngam 1990 The Path to Social Justice. Bamenda (mimeo). Eyoh, Dickson 1998 ConÀicting narratives of anglophone protest and the politics of identity in Cameroon. Journal of Contemporary African Studies 16(2): 249 – 276. Fishman, Joshua A. 1989 Language and Ethnicity in Minority Sociolinguistic Perspective. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Giles, Howard and Nikolas Coupland 1991 Language: Contexts and Consequences. Minton Keynes: Open University Press. Greenberg, Joseph 1966 Languages of Africa. The Hague: Mouton.

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Jua, Nantang and Piet Konings 2004 Occupation of public space: Anglophone nationalism in Cameroon. Cahiers d’études Africaines 175. http://etudesafricaines.revues.org/document4756.html. Accessed March 18th 2008. Konings, Piet and Francis B. Nyamnjoh 2003 Negotiating an Anglophone Identity: A Study of the Politics of Recognition and Representation in Cameroon. Leiden: Brill. Konings, Piet and Francis B. Nyamnjoh 1997 The Anglophone Problem in Cameroon. The Journal of Modern African Studies 35(2): 207 – 229. LePage, Robert B. and Andrée Tabouret-Keller 1985 Acts of Identity: Creole-based Approaches to Language and Ethnicity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lim, Lisa and Umberto Ansaldo 2007 Identity alignment in the multilingual space: The Malays of Sri Lanka. In: Anchimbe, Eric A. 2007b (ed.), pp. 218 – 243. Makoni, Sinfree and Ulrike H. Meinhof 2003 Introducing applied linguistics in Africa. AILA Review 16: 1 – 12. Mbai, V. N. 2007 Ahmadou Ali violates Constitution, bans English at press conference. The Post. January 8th, 2007. www.postnewsline.com/2007/01/ahmadou_ali_vio.html. Accessed 10 June 2007. Mendo Ze, Gervais (ed.) 1999 Le français langue africaine: Enjeux et atouts pour la Francophonie. Paris. Editions Publisud. Mforteh, Stephen A. 2007 In search of new identities in multilingual Cameroon. In Anchimbe, Eric A. 2007b (ed.), pp. 87 – 101. Mufwene, Salikoko S. 2001 The Ecology of Language Evolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ngome, Victor E. 1993 Anglophobia. Focus on Africa 4(3): 27 – 29. Omoniyi, Tope 2003 Language ideology and politics: A critical appraisal of French as a second of¿cial language in Nigeria. AILA Review 16: 13 – 25. Ross, Jeffrey A. 1979 Language and the mobilisation of ethnic identity. In: Howard Giles and B. Saint Jacques (eds.), Language and Ethnic Relations. Oxford: Pergamon. 1 – 13. Simo Bobda, Augustin 1994 Aspects of Cameroon English Phonology. Berne: Peter Lang.

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Tabouret-Keller, Andrée 1998 Language and identity. In: Coulmas, Florian (ed.), Handbook of Sociolinguistics. Oxford: Blackwell. 315 – 326. Wolf, Hans-Georg 2001 English in Cameroon. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.

Part II. Nationhood discourses: Language, policy, and politics

Chapter 5 Nation-statehood and linguistic diversity in the postcolony: The case of Portuguese and indigenous languages in Mozambique Gregório Firmino

1.

Introduction

For most sociolinguists and language policy makers, there is a ǥlanguage question’ in postcolonial Africa, apparently suggested by the asymmetrical and competitive coexistence of ex-colonial languages and indigenous languages. Ex-colonial languages, in opposition to indigenous languages, are viewed as exogenous entities and are usually associated with disruptive effects on political, economic, social and cultural development. This chapter argues that such a view oversimpli¿es the complexities associated with the process of nation-state building in a linguistically diverse country like Mozambique. It will also show that the case of Mozambique suggests that the ‘language question’ is not solely a matter of choosing either Portuguese or indigenous languages but also of understanding the dynamic process through which the different languages are institutionalized within the society. In this connection, for instance, the chapter demonstrates that Portuguese is undergoing a process of nativization making it one of the legitimate linguistic resources citizens manipulate in daily activities. This perspective undermines the rather pervasive premise that ex-colonial languages must necessarily be treated as exogenous entities with disruptive effects on African nation-states, as some analysts have continually argued.

2.

The language question in postcolonial African countries

A recurrent theme in sociolinguistic literature on African countries is the socalled ‘language question’, i.e., the dilemma arising from the institutional dominance of ex-colonial languages over indigenous languages (Heine 1990, 1992). The choice between indigenous languages and an ex-colonial language, the so-called ‘language of wider communication’ (LWC), illustrates the fun-

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damental dilemma surrounding the linguistic issues of developing countries. Some scholars (e.g. Fishman 1972, Geertz 1973) have tended to conceptualize the dilemma as an outcome of two different goals that developing countries tend to pursue: on the one hand, the establishment of a communicational framework that would cope with the drive towards modernity and, on the other hand, the desire to preserve indigenous traditions. Thus, the adoption of a socalled language of wider communication – which has occurred in the majority of African postcolonial countries (Heine 1990, 1992) – has been justi¿ed on the grounds that it is vital for the functioning of the social, economic and political institutions of the New State. Another justi¿cation is that an LWC fosters the integration of the different groups into the national system, on which an indigenous language would supposedly have a disruptive effect. In addition, there is the belief that an LWC facilitates the unavoidable integration of the postcolonial country into the international economic system. There is, however, growing opposition to the continuing use and/or of¿cialization of ex-colonial languages. This opposition is based on the belief that these languages are not only exogenous entities, but are also detrimental to the process of nation-state formation. For instance, some people consider the usual justi¿cation for the use of an LWC as an of¿cial language, i.e., its ability to reach out to many people from several language backgrounds, not sustainable because, as it is well known, the LWC in postcolonial countries is accessible to only a small portion of the society and, therefore, like the indigenous languages, it also has a divisive effect. The divisive effect introduces social classi¿cation into society since those who speak the LWC are linked with education and high standard jobs. As Table 1 shows, less than half of the population of the seven randomly selected African countries is literate in the of¿cial language. For more on this exclusionary role of the exogenous languages see Bokamba (2007). Mazrui and Tidy (1984: 300ff) further argue that although LWC help to integrate Africa into world culture and are politically neutral in the context of Africa’s multi-ethnic societies, ex-colonial languages do not foster national integration. Others have questioned their continuous empowerment on grounds that these languages are intrusive entities whose institutionalization and use correlate with elitist policies (see wa Thiong’o 1987, Myers-Scotton 1993), as well as with alienation from what is perceived as a genuine and authentic African identity (wa Thiong’o 1987). Still others have linked the preference for excolonial languages over indigenous African languages to economic stagnation. The argument is that the use of these languages prevents active participation of the masses in the conceptualization and implementation of national development policies (Djité 1991).

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Table 1. Adult literacy in of¿cial languages in Africa Country Benin

Total population Adult literacy (2008) (%) (2007)

Female (%)

Male (%)

Youth (%)

8,532,547

40.5

27.9

53.1

52.4

Burkina Faso

15,264,735

28.7

21.6

36.7

39.3

Mozambique

16,099,246

44.4

33.0

57.2

52.9

Mali

12,324,029

23.3

16.0

31.4

29.3

Niger

13,272,679

30.4

16.4

44.3

39.0

Senegal

12,853,259

42.6

32.3

53.1

51.3

6,294,774

38.1

26.8

50.0

54.1

Sierra Leone

Sources: http://stats.uis.unesco.org/unesco/TableViewer/tableView.aspx. Population statistics from CIA’s The World Factbook www.cia.gov/library/publications/ the-world-factbook/

The perspective under which analysts view the linguistic situation of some African postcolonial countries requires reexamination. Views about the coexistence of ex-colonial languages and indigenous languages have been inÀuenced by ideological considerations which, while they may be justi¿ed within the anti-colonial stance, fail to recognize the linguistic scenario as it has developed in recent years. After four decades of independence, the ex-colonial languages have expanded their social space and roles in these African countries, both as symbolic artifacts and as communicative tools. At the same time, the indigenous languages have not remained as static entities; rather, they have also acquired new social functions following their adaptation to the dynamics of the postcolonial countries. For this reason, to view the coexistence of ex-colonial languages and indigenous languages as conÀicting, on the assumption that they can be contrasted in terms of legitimacy, endogenization, and usefulness to national development, seems to oversimplify the actual situation. The use of excolonial languages may have negative effects, but such effects do not always occur and do not always occur exclusively with those languages. Similarly, indigenous languages are not necessarily a panacea for linguistic problems in African countries, even though they may have positive effects on society. Notice, for example, the cases of Chichewa in Malawi during the presidency of Hastings Banda (cf. Foster 1994, Vail 1989) and of Lingala in contemporary Democratic Republic of Congo (Goyvaerts 1995). Both indigenous languages have also been associated with divisive, elitist, and hegemonizing policies.

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In fact, it has been argued that LWCs in postcolonial countries have been undergoing change not only structurally but also socio-symbolically, to such an extent that new functions and usages of LWCs are being created following a sociolinguistic process that has been variably termed nativization (Kachru 1982, Schmied 1991), linguistic adaptation (Schmied 1991: 196), contextual dislocation or transplantation (Kachru 1982: 43) of European (or North American) linguistic models. This sociolinguistic process leads to the institutionalization of the so-called non-native varieties (Kachru 1986). The structural and symbolic change of LWCs calls for a new conceptualization of their competition (Wardhaugh 1987) with the indigenous languages, at least, in some countries, mainly, former Portuguese and French colonies. Excolonial languages have not remained as static products but have acquired new symbolic meanings and structural features raising them to a status of language varieties with value in their own right and not exclusively as mere folkloristic distortions of European languages. As Tengan (1994: 128 – 130) has pointed out, African societies were never closed systems immune to an integration of new elements and transformations or changes due to external inÀuence; rather they have open structures that continuously allow new realities and incoming elements to be transformed and adapted to the African context. Transformations of standardized European languages in Africa are part of this process as they suit themselves to rapidly changing socio-cultural and political realities. Having in mind previous considerations, I want to discuss the case of Portuguese in Mozambique (PM) and advance the argument that, as a consequence of the type of its historical implantation in Mozambique, since the colonial period, it is undergoing nativization which, as already said, is making it one of the legitimate linguistic resources citizens manipulate in their daily activities. Meanwhile, indigenous languages, which are also undergoing change play an important role, but not necessarily in conÀicting terms with PM. Rather, PM and indigenous languages are playing complementary roles both instrumentally and symbolically, as citizens use them to ful¿ll a diversity of functions arising in the dynamic context of the Mozambican society.

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3.

The case of Portuguese in Mozambique

3.1.

The Acquisition of Portuguese by the urban African middle class in the colonial period, especially in Maputo

The seeds that led to the wider use of Portuguese in Mozambique are directly linked to political, economic and cultural transformations that followed the establishment of the colonial state in the aftermath of the signature of the Berlin Act in 1885, by which European colonial powers agreed on how to undertake the partition of Africa. Under this act and following the obligation of having to prove effective control over its colonial territories, Portuguese authorities changed their colonial posture by the beginning of the 19th Century by undertaking actions to assert their authority and make the colonies more pro¿table to their interests (cf. Newitt 1995: 415 – 6, Penvenne 1995: 5). The administration of Mozambique was hence reorganized and in 1902, the city of Lourenço Marques, now known as Maputo, became the capital of the colony, as a result of the expansion of economic ties with nearby South Africa (Newitt 1995: 382). The designation of Lourenço Marques as the capital of the colony was accompanied by the installation of a bureaucratic infrastructure to support the colonial state as well as the economic activities now intensi¿ed by contacts with South Africa. This intensi¿cation of contacts was epitomized by the development of the port and rail system that linked Lourenço Marques to South Africa. The ¿rst signs of the extensive use of Portuguese by part of the African community in that city (Lourenço Marques) can be traced back to the political decision of designating Lourenço Marques as the capital of Mozambique. As Penvenne (1982) indicates, the growing capitalist sector in Lourenço Marques, signaled by the expansion of the port complex, the implantation of the state bureaucracy, and the development of international commerce, required the use of native people because not many Portuguese settlers were present1. The system required not only local traders, artisans, and commodity producers, but also the training and education of skilled labor at a lower cost that could make the bureaucratic and commercial institutions functional. In addition, the inclusion of natives in the growing colonial capitalist sector helped to form a comprador group with a consuming power. Thus, there was a local tiny “African petite bourgeoisie” (Penvenne 1982) with a command of Portuguese in the ¿rst decades of the last century. In fact, the beginning of the 20th Century seems to 1. In the early 1960s, the European population in Mozambique was estimated at 100,000. By the end of the colonial regime in 1975, it had doubled (Newitt 1995: 477).

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be the ¿rst time that a social group of native Afro-Europeans and Africans2 in Lourenço Marques started to establish, distinguish, and impose itself on the basis of peculiar skills, which included literacy in, and mastery of, Portuguese. The African petite bourgeoisie included Afro-Europeans and Africans who either through property, prestige, and social networks3 or through education4 had been able to attain a stable social condition within the colonial social system, mostly working as bureaucrats or professionals. For instance, under the law they were not considered as indígenas (natives) but as não-indígenas (non2. I borrow the distinction between Afro-Europeans and Africans from Penvenne (1982). The term Afro-Portuguese has been used by Newitt (1995) in the same sense as the term Afro-Europeans. The distinction captures socially signi¿cant racial categories in the native population: the mulattos or mistos, who usually had a European father and a native black mother, and the black natives. I will also coin the term Euro-Africans, to make reference to white Mozambicans descending from former Portuguese settlers. I will use Africans to refer to black Mozambicans. 3. Penvenne (1982: 2) indicates that “The privileges which accrued to the AfroEuropean elite of late nineteenth century Lourenço Marques were due to the fact that some very important and wealthy African women lived with or married some equally inÀuential and wealthy Europeans. By the turn of the century, their children comprised the city’s only settled middle class. They were able to exploit the property, prestige and social networks of both their African and European families and prospered until white families began to settle in signi¿cant numbers”. A similar point is made by Newitt (1995: 441). 4. By the end of the last century, as the supply of literate manpower became necessary, Portuguese authorities recognized that some educational opportunities should be given to the não-indígenas in the towns. In 1907, legislation was passed giving the local government the power to enforce standards in all private and state schools. Teachers and textbooks had to be approved by local authorities, and instruction had to be in Portuguese. Indigenous languages would be used during a transitional period of three years, after which only Portuguese could be the language of instruction (Helgesson 1994: 125). Education was never to be conducted in any other foreign European language, which was an effort to curtail the activities of foreign Protestant missions that were educating mostly Africans (cf. Newitt 1995: 439). In 1929, a two-track primary education system was established, separating ensino elementar (elementary education) from ensino rudimentar (rudimentary education), also known later as ensino de adaptação (adaptation education), and ensino missionário (missionary education). The former was designed for the não-indígenas and assimilados, and the latter for the indígenas. Theoretically, after rudimentary primary education an indígena could proceed to a uni¿ed secondary education system. Notice, however, that there are indications that formal education was reaching a tiny minority, mostly in the southern provinces of Inhambane and Maputo (then districts of Inhambane and Lourenço Marques).

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natives) or assimilados (assimilated),5 which meant that, at least theoretically, they had been granted full Portuguese citizenship. A fundamental requirement for acquiring the status of não-indígena was mastery of Portuguese, which meant that the assimilation policy set a precedent: the emergence of a social ideology that linked social mobility among the African population to knowledge of Portuguese. The Portuguese language became one of the social capitals closely attached to the economic, ideological, and symbolic systems that controlled social mobility and the assignment of personal abilities and of social status in the colony. There is reason to assume that this generation of middle class Africans was, however, bilingual in both Portuguese and an indigenous language, mainly Ronga, the native language spoken in Lourenço Marques. The indication that Ronga was still very important for this generation can be grasped in the intellectual activity of its most prominent representatives. Some of them were proli¿c writers, mainly journalists and columnists. Part of their work was published in Ronga in the local press (e.g. Brado Africano). Besides, even when writing in Portuguese, part of their communicative strategies was to rely on resources from Ronga, often in the form of lexical items. Some common examples of such words include: kubvana - ‘rabble’ (from Ronga), used by João Albasini to refer to an illiterate Portuguese immigrant (cf. O Africano, 27 January 1917) and Djambu dja Africa, ‘Sun of Africa’ (from Ronga), the title of a monthly magazine published by the Congresso Nacional Africano de Moçambique (African National Congress of Mozambique), one of the political organizations representing Africans that Àourished at the beginning of the 20th Century (cf. Honwana 1989: 74). Nevertheless, for most natives of Lourenço Marques, at least among Africans, Ronga was still the main language of socialization. There is reason to believe that they conducted their daily activities in Ronga, for example, social interactions with relatives outside institutional settings. Ronga was also widely used in religious activities with which most Africans were connected, mainly in Protestant and Muslim circles (cf. Honwana 1989). 5. The distinction between indígenas and não-indígenas was established in 1899, with the colonial labor law prepared by Antonio Ennes. It distinguished between citizens with full Portuguese citizenship living under the metropolitan law (não-indígenas) and those that were under the African law, who were subjected to contract labor and shibalo (forced labor). The distinction was further re¿ned several times, for instance, with the introduction of the Carta Orgânica (Organic Charter) of 1933, the ¿rst constitution of Mozambique. To acquire the status of não-indígena or assimilado (full Portuguese citizenship), an African had to ful¿ll certain criteria, which included knowledge of Portuguese, steady income, level of education (4a classe), and acceptance of monogamy.

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Contacts with the Portuguese language occurred mostly in institutional settings or in interactions with Portuguese settlers, such as, in work environments or in some social gatherings where the native middle class assembled. These include intellectual activities or dancing sessions (bailes) organized, for instance, by local associations like the Grémio Africano, later Associação Africana or the Instituto Negró¿lo. Nevertheless, in some of these social gatherings Ronga may still have been extensively used. Given the links with South Africa, many members of this middle class also had knowledge of English.6 It appears that knowledge of English was more common among Africans educated in Protestant missionary schools under the inÀuence of foreign missionaries with links in South Africa (cf. Honwana 1989). Students in these schools were often sent to South Africa. Thus, it can be concluded that in Lourenço Marques there was a triglossic situation: a) Portuguese was the high language associated with colonial ideology of civilization, institutional activity, and social advancement b) English, with which many Africans were familiar, was used in the private sector c) Ronga, despite its importance in asserting attachment to tradition and a sense of Africanity, was mostly used in low domains of daily family and informal life and had no access to institutional settings. In the late 1930s, after the establishment of the Estado Novo (New State) in Portugal, Mozambique witnessed a new impetus in the expansion of economic activities under several development plans that were implemented until the end of Portuguese rule in 1975 (Newitt 1995: 461). This expansion spurred the enlargement of the bureaucratic sector. It was also tied to the promotion of “white immigration” from Portugal, which was to increase the colony of native speakers of Portuguese. The linguistic consequences of this policy were far-reaching. Given the preferential treatment that the Portuguese received, the skilled and 6. An illustrative example is the case of João Tomás Chembene, the ¿rst leader of the Congresso Nacional Africano de Moçambique, a political organization that was founded in the 1920s. According to R. B. Honwana, he was a well-educated man and could speak both English and Portuguese very well. After having spent some time in South Africa, where he had contacts with the South African ANC, he came back to Mozambique and worked for a British ¿rm as a clerk. Other prominent Africans who knew English include Brown Paulo Dulela, who worked for the Fábrica de Cimentos do Língamo and was the ¿rst President of the Instituto Negró¿lo (later Centro Associativo dos Negros de Moçambique), Jeremias Dick Nhaca, and Lindstrom Mathithe (Honwana 1989: 74 – 5).

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educated natives faced an unfair job competition. Penvenne (1982: 8) explains this situation thus: In the nineteenth century some Africans and Afro-Europeans held important military and civil service positions and enjoyed equal pay and mobility with whites. By the nineteen thirties, only a handful of Afro-Europeans, all of whom had very strong family and patronage ties, still held top positions. By the end of the Second World War, most educated Africans and Afro-Europeans were trapped in designated black jobs, subordinate professions, apprenticeships or lower echelon civil service posts.

In most instances, the natives had to prove they were over-quali¿ed in order to gain access to decent jobs. One index of this over-quali¿cation was obviously knowledge of Portuguese. Thus, it can be assumed that with the establishment of the Estado Novo the association of the Portuguese language with social mobility was signi¿cantly reinforced. Throughout the pre-independence period, the acquisition of Portuguese by the African population was primarily motivated by the position that the language maintained colonial ideology together with its socio-cultural and economic systems. However, the limitations imposed by the colonial system, which had neither the capacity nor the willingness to enlarge the class of civilized Africans, forbade its acquisition by a large segment of the African population. By the time colonialism ended in Mozambique (1975), the Portuguese language was part of the linguistic repertoire of a minority group of Mozambicans, mostly in urban centers. For most of these speakers, Portuguese was their second language. It was learned formally in school and used mostly in institutional domains. Moreover, these speakers of Portuguese perceived it as a prestige language. The association of Portuguese with social prestige and upward mobility did not disappear at independence. Rather, this prestige was reinforced by wrapping Portuguese into a new ideological framework, which promoted and embraced it as a major symbol of national unity, since it became the of¿cial language of Mozambique. As a result, the use and users of Portuguese expanded 3.2.

Appropriation of the Portuguese language in postcolonial Mozambique

In independent Mozambique, the Portuguese language has been granted the status of of¿cial language, which means that, just like during the colonial period, Portuguese continues to be the only language used in of¿cial functions. Besides, Portuguese has also been promoted by of¿cial discourse to the status of língua de unidade nacional (language of national unity). The choice of Portuguese as of¿cial language and symbol of national unity was a predictable

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outcome given its history of use in Mozambique, the type of linguistic diversity prevailing in the country, the ideological premises related to the type of society conceived for the country by the ruling party, as well as the need to co-opt the educated elites into the power structure and the bureaucratic institutions of the new state. As shown earlier, being a consequence of colonial policies and correlated linguistic ideology, Portuguese emerged as the prestigious language associated with institutional activities and social mobility. In addition, it was also the fundamental symbolic marker of the educated elite, regardless of ethnic, regional, or racial origins. Since the functioning of the national institutions of the new state had to rely on this social segment, which could not operate in any other language but Portuguese, the of¿cialization of this language followed naturally. In addition, no indigenous languages with which Portuguese was competing could claim an overwhelming majority of speakers evenly distributed over the national territory. Moreover, no indigenous language had a history of use in institutional domains. In fact, since the elite was educated in Portuguese and communicated in indigenous languages exclusively in family or non-institutional domains, they were not prepared to conduct of¿cial business in an indigenous language. However, the most important rationale behind the of¿cialization of Portuguese does not arise in connection with practical reasons such as those mentioned in the previous paragraphs. Rather, it is connected with the development of an ideological framework that associated Portuguese with the promotion of national unity and the creation of a national consciousness. The ¿rst indications of the development of such an ideological framework were given during the anti-colonial Armed Struggle for the Liberation of Mozambique, when the nationalist movement, FRELIMO (Frente de Libertação de Moçambique, Front for the Liberation of Mozambique) decided to adopt the Portuguese language in the interest of preserving unity among Mozambicans of different backgrounds involved in the uprising. When FRELIMO the ruling party came to power in 1975 with the independence of Mozambique, the ideological assumptions that had guided the nationalist movement during the Armed Struggle were extended to the entire territory. The main motivation that had led to the adoption of Portuguese during the anti-colonial uprising, i.e. the preservation of national unity, continued to be relevant in the process of nation-state building. FRELIMO envisaged a nova sociedade (new society), which integrated people from diverse backgrounds and strove to build “modern social relations in a modernized economy” (Newitt 1995: 547). Such a society would be symbolized, inter alia, by the adoption of Portuguese not only as the link language and promoter of social integration but

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also as an instrument of national progress. Such a vision is documented in the following passage by the then Minister of Education and Culture, taken from the opening address to the I Seminário Sobre o Ensino da Língua Portuguesa (First Seminar on Teaching Portuguese) held in 1979: The Portuguese language is the means of communication among all Mozambicans, which allows the breaking of the barriers created by the native languages. Through it, the ideology of FRELIMO, which incarnates the interests of the working classes and expresses their revolutionary values, is diffused and studied in order to be put into practice, hence leading our People in the struggle for the creation of a just, prosperous and happy society, the Socialist Society. The Portuguese language is also the language that conveys scienti¿c and technical knowledge. In literacy campaigns for thousands of workers and peasants, it ful¿lls an important role because it provides the necessary instruments for controlling production, in sum, for improving social and material welfare. It is also by using the Portuguese language that we communicate with other people in the world, letting them know of the rich experience of our people as we also receive the contribution of the cultural heritage of the world. (my translation)

The fact that Portuguese, the language of the enemy, had been appropriated by FRELIMO from the outset of the liberation struggle provided a powerful legitimacy for its adoption in independent Mozambique. The adoption of Portuguese could not be perceived in the eyes of the general public as a sign of colonial nostalgia. Moreover, as widely known, the of¿cial regime in Mozambique pursued a strong non-aligned stance which, by no means, could be associated with neocolonialism. For this reason, it has been argued that in Mozambique, unlike in many countries on the [African] continent, the situation of Portuguese is not one of an inconvenient legacy with a transitional nature, while a ‘genuine’ African language is yet to be found. … It is a project that aims to nullify all the consequences of the arbitrary geographical borders of the country, give it a national identity and cultural consciousness through the people that live in it. (my translation)

Consequently, Portuguese became the primary medium of communication in public domains, not only in institutional settings all over the country but also in daily urban interactions in public spaces, such as restaurants, streets, and marketplaces. An effort was made to widen the community of speakers of Portuguese through the expansion of education and literacy campaigns, both of which were conducted exclusively in Portuguese. Pressure was even exerted on the population in general so that Portuguese could be widely used. For instance, signs posted in public of¿ces reminded people that the use of the of¿cial language was mandatory. Literally, some of the signs would say “é expressa-

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mente obrigatório falar a língua o¿cial – it is expressly mandatory to use the of¿cial language” (cf. Rosário 1982: 64). At some public rallies, the translation of Portuguese into indigenous languages was avoided in order to reinforce its importance as the of¿cial language and symbol of national unity and to coerce people into learning and speaking it. This policy favoring Portuguese led to a climate conducive to its social appropriation, which resulted in its spread or expansion to new speakers and new domains. As people used Portuguese in many different ways, it started to transcend its role as a political and administrative tool to become a carrier of new types of communicative and symbolic messages. These new types of messages related to the vitality of new national life in Mozambique. The number of speakers of Portuguese also rose signi¿cantly, especially in urban centers.7 The exact number of speakers of Portuguese in 1975, the year that Mozambique became independent, is not available. It can be estimated, however, that less than 10% of the Mozambican population knew Portuguese, given that the illiteracy rate was over 90% and Portuguese was mainly acquired through education. By 1980, the illiteracy rate had dropped to about 80% in the entire country and about 40% in the cities. Among the Mozambican population, 24.4% claimed to know Portuguese: 23.2% as a second language, and 1.2% as native speakers. The census of 1980 also showed that the illiteracy rate in Maputo was estimated at 46.7%, and about 50% of the population living in the city claimed to know Portuguese (cf. Conselho Coordenador do Recenseamento 1983, MINED 1986: 46). Thus, many residents of Maputo claimed knowledge of Portuguese, with the difference that the community of white settlers had dwindled considerably. This means that most of these speakers of Portuguese were Africans. 3.3.

Nativization of Portuguese in Mozambique

Following its expansion in use, Portuguese in Mozambique has started to ful¿ll new communicative functions connected with new social activities that emerged in the postcolonial period. So to say, Portuguese is expressing a new ideology and carrying new socio-symbolic values. Moreover, Portuguese is acquiring new grammatical and rhetorical features which social interactants have to manipulate. In this way, Portuguese is beginning to be seen as less and less 7.

In connection with this point, there is an assumption that African Portugueseusing countries have done more for the expansion of Portuguese in the few years of independence than colonial Portuguese authorities did during the colonial period (Ferreira 1988: 38).

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intrusive and exogenous to Mozambican realities, especially in urban centers. It is used to enact typically Mozambican relationships and to invoke social realities peculiar to Mozambique. Like the new Englishes, it is now a new Portuguese – Mozambican Portuguese – since it portrays the linguistic and social habits of its new ecology. Consider this illustrative usage of Mozambican Portuguese: a)

use of the word cabrito (‘goat’) 1. 2.

Vai ali um cabrito (Literally, ‘There goes a goat’, but meaning ‘there you have a corrupt person’) Ontem tive que cabritar no hospital (Literally, ‘Yesterday I had to goat in the hospital’, but meaning, ‘Yesterday I had to bribe someone in the hospital in order to get treated’)

The meaning of the two sentences cannot be understood without invoking the social reality of the country. The word cabrito (goat) has been linked with corruption, which is a social phenomenon perceived to be rampant nowadays in Mozambique. The cabrito eats the grass around it (e.g. “O cabrito come onde está amarrado”, i.e., “the goat eats where it is tied’). By allusion, a corrupt person takes advantage of the chances around him/her. Thus, cabrito is now used to refer to corrupt people. From cabrito a verb has been formed, cabritar, i.e. to bribe or to corrupt, which can be conjugated normally as any similar verb in the language. A noun cabritagem has also emerged meaning corruption. b) use of the term malume (uncle – only mother’s brother) and its correlate n’tukulo (nephew – only sister’s son), words borrowed from Xironga, one of the local indigenous languages, as in the following dialogue. Person A: Malume, chegou o dia, vamos todos votar, não é ? (‘Malume, the day has come, let’s all go and vote, all right?’) Person B: É verdade n’tukulo! Mas, atenção, não vais com essa camisete nem as bandeiras, OK? (‘That’s right, n’tukulo! But, listen, don’t you go with that T-shirt or the Àags, OK?’)

This dialogue, taken from the daily newspaper Notícias (October 27, 1994), is part of a message intended to mobilize people to vote and to explain voting procedures to them. The reference to T-shirts and Àags is related to the fact that voters were not allowed to take to the polling-stations any item linked to the parties and candidates running in the elections. The message builds its communicative intent by making reference to a fundamental feature of matrilineal societies in the south of Mozambique, namely, the joking relationship between the malume, the mother’s brother, and the n’tukulo, the sister’s son. (cf. Junod

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1962[1927]). For someone outside this socio-cultural context, the use of malume and n’tukulo is meaningless. These two examples warrant the assumption that Portuguese is becoming embedded in the socio-cultural context of postcolonial Mozambique and could be said to be signi¿cantly far into the process of nativization. This process corresponds to the development of a new ideology of languagehood as both of¿cial authorities and public opinion perceive and recognize Portuguese as an of¿cial and national link language. Meanwhile, as the new ideology of languagehood evolves, the Portuguese language in Mozambique incorporates new distinctive linguistic characteristics. Thus, nativization encompasses two interconnected dimensions: a symbolic one, with the emergence of new attitudes and social ideologies towards the use of the language; and a linguistic one, with the development of new forms of language usage.

4.

Language diversity and nation-statehood in Mozambique

The fact that Portuguese is acquiring native status keeps open the question of the effects of linguistic diversity on nation-state building in Mozambique. Portuguese is essentially an urban language, used alongside several other languages by speakers who have an indigenous language as their native language. Then, to what extent can Portuguese be nativized, or used as a link language, or identi¿ed as a symbol of national unity? Can Portuguese coexist with indigenous languages? Should it be replaced by an indigenous language? Direct answers to some of these questions are not immediately available and may still not be available in a long time given that the spread of Portuguese may in the future be challenged by the spread of English – it is not the focus here though. Also, the language situation in Mozambique shows the fragmentary and regionalized nature of ethnolinguistic variation in the country. In fact, Mozambique includes regional pockets of speakers of different indigenous languages, each one dominating in speci¿c areas of the country. There is no indigenous language widely spoken across the country and, consequently, none of them is in the position to function as a single national link language. Indigenous languages are mostly associated with intra-ethnic communication. Although these languages have been institutionally marginalized and excluded from of¿cial settings, there are also social activities, such as religious activities, in which they, rather than Portuguese, are used. This fact indicates that the coexistence of indigenous languages and Portuguese does not necessarily entail the over-valuation of the latter at the expense of the former, as has

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often been assumed in the presentation of the competition between ex-colonial languages and indigenous languages. Members of the Mozambican society interact with each other using linguistic repertoires which encompass the indigenous languages and Portuguese. These languages are not, however, uniformly distributed among Mozambicans, which enables them to be used as symbols that individuals manipulate as markers of their social personae. One’s social image is built on the use of speci¿c linguistic forms of a language in speci¿c social activities. Furthermore, not only linguistic forms derived from Portuguese but also those from indigenous languages may, in some social activities, bring about social rewards. Indigenous languages, Portuguese, and other foreign languages have been allocated their social space and value in conformity with the complexities of the types of social activities particular to Mozambique: church, politics, etc. The implication of this remark is that all languages spoken in Mozambique should be given their due social value. So, in dealing with the ǥlanguage question’ the issue that needs to be addressed ¿rst is how far and in what ways different languages have become linguistic resources suited to the ecology of the different countries. The social institutionalization of the different languages, regardless of their origin, needs to be researched rather than assumed. Arguably, social conÀict in a polity is not predicated on the pattern of primordial cultural differences. Rather, it has to do more with how interest groups, most of them based in urban centers where contacts among people of different social background are frequent, put forward their demands and manipulate ethnicity or other cultural symbols (e.g. race, gender, and age) to build coalitions in order to compete for societal goods (Das Gupta 1971, Horowitz 1985). In other words, ethnic boundaries are Àuid constructions that are manipulated to serve particular objectives in a certain space and time, as ideology-based approaches to nationalism would argue (cf. Fox 1990).

5.

Concluding remarks

I, therefore, conclude that cultural diversity, as such, does not necessarily affect the process of nation-state building in a negative way. In fact, the stability of a nation-state is not proportional to the degree of cultural assimilation its members might have achieved, but rather to how different interest groups, which are usually based on the ideologization of cultural differences, are made mutually compatible by an adequate political, social, and economic system. In this regard, it can be argued that the accommodation of conÀicts of interest lies in the organization of a “civil society” (cf. Taylor 1995) with institutionalized

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mechanisms for addressing the interests of different social groups and making the state accommodate their demands. Language conÀicts do not exist in themselves; rather, they reÀect conÀicts at other levels over other issues related to the distribution of social goods. For this reason, claims to revise the role and status of ex-colonial languages vis-à-vis indigenous languages as a way of redressing social inequalities in postcolonial Africa (as proposed, for instance, by Ngugi wa Thiong’o 1987) are misdirected. They focus on language as such and not on other political, economic, and social issues that bear on the reproduction of social inequalities. Language loyalties are symbolic manifestations of other grievances on a political, economic, or social level. Thus, the stability of Mozambique will not depend strictly on whether Portuguese is replaced by, or used in conjunction with (one of the), indigenous languages. Similarly, the use of Portuguese as a national language will not per se guarantee the unity of the country. Rather, the strength of the Mozambican nation-state will be a function of how the different social groups (or more exactly the elites, who derive power from their relation to social groups) are allowed to be part of the nation-state and feel that they bene¿t from the resources made available by the national system. The chapter has argued that the institutionalization of Portuguese in Mozambique has led to the transformation of the language as it adapts itself to the political, social, economic and socio-cultural context of Mozambique. It is nativizing and hence acquiring new structural and symbolic features. Given the fact that Portuguese is immersed in a multilingual and multicultural nationstate in which indigenous languages ful¿ll signi¿cant instrumental and sentimental functions, both Portuguese and indigenous languages should be granted their due value so that all of them can contribute to building a viable nationstate in Mozambique. In addition, notice that the language question does not have to do solely with the languages per se but with the way interests that may be channeled through language conÀicts are resolved.

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References Bokamba, Eyamba G. 2007 Arguments for multilingual policies in African public domains. In Anchimbe, Eric A. (ed.), Linguistic Identity in Postcolonial Multilingual Spaces. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. 27 – 65. Das Gupta, Jyotindra 1971 Language ConÀict and National Development. Berkeley: University of California Press. Djité, Paulin G. 1991 Langues et development en Afrique. Language Problems and Language Planning 15(2): 121 – 138. Ferreira, Manuel 1988 Que Futuro para a Língua Portuguesa em Africa? Linda-A-Velha: ALAC (Edições A Preto e Branco). Fishman, Joshua 1972 National languages and languages of wider communication. Language in Socio-Cultural Change. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. Foster, Peter G. 1994 Culture, nationalism, and the invention of tradition in Malawi. The Journal of Modern African Studies 32(3): 477 – 497. Fox, Richard G. (ed.) 1990 Nationalist Ideologies and the Production of National Cultures. Washington: American Anthropological Association. Geertz, Clifford 1973[1963] The Interpretation of Cultures. New York: Basic Books. Goyvaerts, Didier L. 1995 The emergence of Lingala in Bukavu, Zaire. The Journal of Modern African Studies 33(2): 299 – 314 Heine, Bernd 1990 Language policy in Africa. In: Weinstein, Brian ( ed. ), Language Policy and Political Development. New Jersey: Ablex Publishing Corporation. 167 – 184. Heine, Bernd 1992 Language policies in Africa. In: Herbert, Robert K. (ed.), Language and Society in Africa. Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press. 23 – 35. Helgesson, Alf 1994. Church, State and People in Mozambique. An Historical Study with Special Emphasis on Methodist Developments in the Inhambane Region. Uppsala: Uppsala University (Studia Missionalia Upsaliensia). Honwana, Raúl Bernardo 1989 Memórias. Lisboa: Edições ASA.

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Horowitz, Donald L. 1985 Ethnic Groups in ConÀict. Berkeley: University of California Press. Junod, Henry P. 1962[1927] The Life of a South African Tribe. New York: University Books. Kachru, Braj B. 1982 Models for non-native Englishes. In: Kachru, Braj B. (ed.), The Other Tongue: English across Cultures. Urbana-Champaign, IL: University of Illinois Press. 31 – 57. Kachru, Braj B. 1986 The Alchemy of English: The Spread, Functions and Models of Non-native Englishes. Oxford: Pergamon Press. Mazrui, Ali and Michael Tidy 1984 Nationalism and the New States in Africa. London: Heinemann. Mondlane, Eduardo 1976[1969] Lutar por Moçambique. Lisboa: Sá da Costa. Myers-Scotton, Carol 1993 Elite closure as a powerful language strategy: The African case. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 103: 149 – 163. Newitt, Malyn 1995 A History of Mozambique. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Penvenne, Jeanne 1982 The Unmaking of an African Petite Bourgeoisie, Lourenço Marques, Mozambique. Boston, MA: Boston University African Studies Center. Penvenne, Jeanne 1995 African Workers and Colonial Racism. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Rosário, Lourenço 1982 Língua Portuguesa e Cultura Moçambicana: De Instrumento de Consciência e Unidade Nacional a Veículo e Expressão de Identidade Cultural. Coimbra: Centro de Literatura Portuguesa da Universidade de Coimbra. Schmied, Josef 1991 English in Africa: An Introduction. New York: Longman. Taylor, Charles 1995[1990] Invoking civil society. In: Taylor, Charles, Philosophical Arguments. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. 204 – 224. Tengan, Alexis B. 1994 European languages in African society and culture: A view on cultural authenticity. In: Putz, Martin (ed.), Language Contact and Language ConÀict. Amesterdam: John Benjamins. 125 – 138. Vail, Leroy (ed.) 1989 The Creation of Tribalism in Southern Africa. Berkeley: University of California Press.

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wa Thiongo, Ngugi 1987 Decolonizing the Mind: The Politics of Language in African Literature. Harare: Zimbabwe Publishing House. Wardhaugh, Ronald 1987 Languages in Competition. The Hague: Mouton.

Chapter 6 The emergence of an indigenous language as lingua franca: The case of Luganda in Uganda Jude Ssempuuma

1.

Introduction

Uganda, like many African countries, is a multilingual and multicultural country. As a means of fostering intertribal or intergroup communication, Kiswahili and English have been promoted and encouraged by colonial and postcolonial governments as languages of wider communication. However, the present language situation in Uganda indicates that both Kiswahili and English have failed to ful¿l this function. Whereas Kiswahili has received great resistance, most especially in the central and southern part of the country where it is treated as a foreign code and as language of the lower class, English, on the other hand, is regarded as a language of the classroom and the elite. This study intends to show how Luganda, an indigenous language, is emerging as a lingua franca in Uganda. As recent studies by Mukama (1991) and Kasozi (2000) have observed, it is now the most widely spoken language in Uganda. This chapter aims at illustrating the factors which qualify Luganda as a lingua franca. In the ¿rst place, it will demonstrate the development of Luganda as a language of administration and education during the colonial and postcolonial periods. Secondly, it will look at the role of the Baganda (native-speakers of the Luganda language) and Kampala city in the promotion of the Luganda language. Thirdly, it will present some examples of how non-native Luganda speakers use this language. And lastly, the conclusion will con¿rm the emergence of Luganda as a lingua franca in Uganda. The chapter will also illustrate that notwithstanding people’s attitudes of and government policies towards the Luganda language, it is nevertheless the most widely spoken language: it is not only spoken by its native Baganda people but also increasingly by non-natives, which is why I posit here that it is emerging progressively as a lingua franca in the country.

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2.

A lingua franca: How it is perceived in a multilingual society

In one of its earliest meanings, the term lingua franca referred to “a contact vernacular used during the Middle Ages and Renaissance in the Mediterranean area and based primarily on Italian, but with heavy admixtures from Arabic, French, Spanish, Greek” (Pei 1966: 148). However, due to increasing cultural and linguistic contact, as a result of inter-regional and international movement of people, the meaning of a lingua franca has been extended to refer to a tongue of common intercourse among people of different backgrounds. For instance, Crystal (1992: 230) observes that “it is an auxiliary language used to permit routine communication between groups of people who speak different native languages”, for example, English among people from different parts of India and other parts of the world. He goes on further to remark that ‘lingua francas’ are very common in heavily multilingual regions such as West and East Africa. It is in this respect, therefore, that I intend to discuss the emergence of Luganda as lingua franca in Uganda’s multilingual society, most especially in Kampala, the Capital city. However, before discussing Luganda as a lingua franca in Uganda (section 4), I intend to shed light on multilingualism in Uganda in the next section.

3.

Multilingualism in Uganda

Uganda is a multilingual nation with about 40 local languages, which are listed in well-known publications, for example, Gordon (2005) lists 45 languages including English, out of which two (Nyang`i and Singa) are already extinct. In their study of the Ugandan language situation, Ladefoged et al. (1972) identi¿ed approximately 63 native or indigenous languages and dialects. These various local languages reÀect a sense of ethnic and cultural af¿nity. To use Ehret’s (2000: 275) words, “they are used as vehicle of social and cultural communication”. These local languages, some of which are presented in Table 1, are the media through which people’s traditions and cultures have been passed on from one generation to the next. The richness of these languages is reÀected in the great use of proverbs, wise sayings, anecdotes, fables, riddles, songs and idioms. In addition, these languages are remarkably rich in vocabulary and have been dynamically used in various ways by people of various backgrounds. For instance, Finnegan (1970: 58) remarks that “the picturesque and imaginative forms of expression of many Bantu languages are particularly noticeable”. Though most of these local languages do not have a written form and those which do cannot claim a long tradition of a writing system (not more

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than 150 years), nevertheless, people attach great value to their use. For example, the Luganda proverb Ozaayanga omubiri n’otozaaya lulimi, which can be translated into English as ‘Estrangement of the body can be tolerated, but not that of language!’ shows how the Baganda treasure their language (Lugira 1970: 16). Table 1. Principal Ugandan ethnic groups and their respective languages according to regions (Nganda 1996: 82) Region

People

Central

Baganda, Bakenyi, Baruli, Baziba, Luganda, Lukenyi, Luruli, Luziba, Bakooki, Lukooki,

Languages

Eastern

Iteso, Kumam, Bagisu, Bagwere, Atesot, Kumam, Lugisu, Lugwere, Banyole, Basoga, Japadhola, Sebei Lunyole, Lusoga, Adhola, Kupsupin

Western

Banyoro, Batooro, Banyankole, Banyarwanda, Bafumbira, Bahoororo, Bamba, Bakonjo

Lunyoro, Lutooro, Lunyankole, Lunyarwanda, Lufumbira, Luhoororo, Lumba, Lukonjo

Northern

Acholi, Langi, Karamojong, Suk, Labwor, Tepeth, Alur, Madi, Kakwa, Lugbara

Lwo, Akirimajong, Madi, Kakwa, Lugbara

Even though the Baganda are the biggest ethnic group in Uganda, there are other groups that are also signi¿cantly big. Table 2 shows the ethnic groups that number at least 1 million. It is based on the September 2002 Census, and gives a clearer picture of the multi-ethnic and, of course, multilingual nature of Uganda. Table 2. Principal ethnic groups in Uganda (from Langlands et al. 2008: 1247) Ethnic group

Population

Baganda

4,126,370

Banyakole

2,330,212

Basoga

2,062,920

Bakiga

1,679,519

Iteso

1,568,763

Langi

1,485,437

Acholi

1,145,357

Bagisu

1,117,661

Lugbara

1,022,240

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4.

Luganda as a lingua franca in Uganda

Luganda is the language of the Baganda. Since the Baganda belong to the Bantu family, they are believed to have originated from central Africa (Nzita and Niwampa 1995: 12). However, Kiwanuka (1971: 31) argues that the founders of the Baganda ethnic group and the Buganda kingdom involved both the indigenous and immigrant groups. Therefore, he contends that the Luganda language “evolved from the indigenous Baganda”. These indigenous Baganda, who are referred to as Bannansangwawo were from the ¿ve original Buganda clans of Ffumbe, Lugave, Ngeye, Njaza, and Nnyonyi Nnyange (Kiwanuka 1971: 32). Today, there are ¿fty clans approved by the current Kabaka (King), Muwenda Mutebi II. They are largely exogamous, universally totemic, and patrilinial. Presently, the Baganda are the largest single ethnic group in Uganda. They make up almost 16% of the total Ugandan population (Crystal 1992: 402). According to Langlands et al. (2008: 1247), the census of 12 September 2002 estimated their population to be 4,126,370. They occupy the central part of Uganda which was formerly called the Buganda province and during the colonial era, the Buganda kingdom. They can, therefore, be found in the present districts of Kalangala, Kampala, Kiboga, Lyantonde, Masaka, Mpigi, Mubende, Mukono, Rakai, Ssembabule, and Wakiso. Luganda is a symbol of belonging among the Baganda. In the words of Herriman and Burnaby (1996: 10), it is a symbol of group membership and solidarity. As it has been mentioned above, Luganda is the language of the dominant group in the multilingual Ugandan society and therefore offers its speakers advantages over other groups. For instance, respected writers on language situation in Uganda, such as Herrick et al. (1969), Richards (1969), Ladefoged et al. (1972), Mukama (1991), Kasozi (2000), and Nsibambi (2000) have argued that it is the most spoken language in Uganda. For example, it was used as a language of administration not only within Buganda or Central region but also in other parts of the country such as Bugisu, Busoga, and Kigezi. The following section discusses the status and functions of Luganda as a language of administration and education both during the colonial and postcolonial periods. 4.1.

Luganda as language of administration

In Uganda, the Luganda language enjoys a special status. During the colonial period, for example, it was the language of administration in most parts of the Protectorate. This was mainly due to the fact that the British colonial masters accorded the Baganda a special status which increased the inÀuence of their language and its use among other ethnic groups. For instance, Thomas and Scott

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(1949: 87) note that in the 1940s, “the Luganda–speaking population was estimated to consist of about 650,000 Baganda, 300,000 Basoga, and the dialects of the Bavuma (3,752), Banabwera (1,754), Bakoki (13,500), Basese (4,565), and Bakunta (4,000)”. In the same respect, Richards (1969: 10) remarks that “Ganda [Baganda] continue to conduct all their administrative and legal business in their own language and are proud of doing so”. He goes on to assert that “in fact, the language has become one of the important symbols of their ethnic distinction”. Other authors, for example, Fontaine (1959: 12), Nganda (1995: 25), Kasozi (2000: 27) point out that in 1896, Semei Kakungulu, a Muganda chief, administered the Eastern district of Uganda which is inhabited by the Luhaya, Kumam, Ateso, and Langi, on behalf of the British. Baganda agents remained in control of the Teso region until 1913 and the Kiganda-type of administration was introduced in other parts of the protectorate, for instance, in Kigezi area, Western Uganda in 1911. Since the ¿rst Europeans to come to Uganda (missionaries and political administrators) ¿rst had contact with the Baganda, it was Luganda that was used as a lingua franca in their communication with other ethnic groups in what is today known as Uganda. Moreover, its strong family resemblance with the Lunyoro language, another widely spoken language in Uganda, made its learning easier among the Bantu ethnic groups. It is important to note here that a big part of the present Buganda kingdom was part of the great Bunyoro-Kitara Empire during the 18th century. However, since the beginning of the 19th century, the Baganda have risen in status above other ethnic groups in Uganda. They welcomed Western life-style earlier than other ethnic groups in Uganda. It was the ¿rst local language to have a writing system. As Thomas and Scott (1949: 87) observe, the Luganda language had a more consistent and standardized system than any other local language, hence, its adoption by both the Europeans and Africans in Uganda as a lingua franca. The use of Luganda in Buganda kingdom and other parts of Uganda under the Baganda administrators was also encouraged by the failure of Kiswahili as a lingua franca in Uganda. Although the colonial administrators enforced the use of Kiswahili, it, however, received great resistance among the Baganda and the missionaries (Low 1971: 89). Even when English was promoted by the British administration and encouraged by the Baganda after the Second World War, Luganda remained the main language of administration in Buganda. For instance, Hudson the education secretary in the Buganda kingdom in the 1950s reports that: Kintu (the Katikiro or Prime Minister of the Kingdom) always spoke in Luganda, on principle, but I found that he understood English very well, so I usually

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spoke in English to him and he replied in Luganda to me. […] Once in a scholarship committee meeting where all discussion was in Luganda, I was trying to make a point of principle and having dif¿culty with the Luganda, he broke in as chairman, ‘Yogera Lungereza, tujja kutegeera’ (i.e. Speak English, we shall understand) (Hudson 1996: 98).

During the colonial period, Luganda had established itself as a lingua franca. Its status as the of¿cial language of the Buganda kingdom was strengthened in 1962, when Uganda was declared an independent state. Since the Buganda kingdom was given a special federal status, Luganda became the of¿cial language of the kingdom. However, this did not last long. As Herrick et al. (1969: 118) and Richards (1969: 34) observe, the political conÀict between the Buganda kingdom and the Ugandan government in 1966 led not only to the abolition of kingdoms in Uganda but also to the elimination of the Luganda language as a language of administration and education. English was declared the language of administration and education throughout the entire country. It was not until 1993, after the installation of the new Kabaka of Buganda (Ronald Muwenda Mutebi II) and the recognition of traditional and cultural institutions in the Uganda Constitution of 1995 that the Luganda language gained its former status as the of¿cial language of the Buganda kingdom. It is the language of the Lukiiko (Buganda Parliament) and is used in the administration of the Kingdom, for example, in Enkiiko z’ebika (clan meetings and courts’ proceedings). Luganda is also used by the Central government of¿cials (employees in the public service) and politicians within the Central region as a common language, most especially in their oral communications to the general public. For instance, during political campaigns (both presidential and parliamentary) it is Luganda that is used in Kampala and in the entire Central region. The inÀuence of the Luganda language in Uganda can further be noted in the use of Luganda slogans in the National government policies and campaigns. As Table 3 shows, these slogans appeal to the population better in Luganda than they would in English. Even the president also uses Luganda from time to time in his speeches to the nation. In his address at the celebration of Liberation day (26th January 2009), President Kaguta Museveni, whose speech was in English, kept on repeating in Luganda “Kirungi kasita Ssebaggala waali era nkimanyi nti awulidde” (It is good Ssebaggala is here and I’m sure he has heard), each time a complaint was directed to Kampala City Council. To sum it up, Luganda has now or is progressively emerging as the language of the general Ugandan public. It is not only used in the administration of the Buganda kingdom and cultural affairs but also in national politics. The posi-

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tioning of all government ministries within Kampala city, the heartland of the Buganda kingdom also boosted its use as a common language within Kampala. English, the of¿cial language of the country, is limited to the written of¿cial communications among employees of the public service, with Luganda taking the lion’s share of the spoken or oral communications. As Boadu (1985: 83) observes, spoken words are important in transmitting messages collectively and for maintaining societal continuity from one generation to another. Luganda is, therefore, more of a social language than English, hence, its emerging status as a lingua franca in the country. Table 3. Luganda slogans used in national politics Slogan

English gloss

Entandikwa

initial capital

Bonna bagaggawale

richness for all

Bonna basome

education for all or free primary and secondary education

Okulembeka

tapping resources

Olulimbi

one’s task or duty

Ekisanja

presidential term limit

4.2.

Luganda as language of education

Christian Missionaries were the pioneers of formal education in Uganda. Since missionary work started in Buganda, education was also ¿rst concentrated in Buganda. For instance, Herrick et al. (1969: 115) report that “by 1890 there were six schools with 454 pupils in Buganda”. The Baganda were, therefore, the ¿rst to have a taste of the fruits of formal education. In addition, Ssozi (1988: 2) and Walusimbi (2002: 9) note that in Uganda, reading and writing in the mother tongue started in Buganda in the late 19th century when Christianity was introduced in 1877 and 1879 by the Christian Missionary Society (CMS) from Britain and the Catholic White Fathers from France. In their move to spread the Gospel, the Missionaries pioneered the codi¿cation of local languages, beginning with the Luganda language. They then embarked on the duty of translating both the Bible and the Catholic Catechism into Luganda. As Kasozi (2000: 26) observes, as early as 1897, Pilkington (a member of the CMS) had produced a Luganda Grammar and translated part of the Bible into Luganda. In the same respect, Reverends John Roscoe and Rowlings had produced a number of works in the Luganda language. The role

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played by the missionaries in the spread of literature in the local languages is further underlined by Thomas and Scott (1935: 333) who state that “one of the mission’s most active institutions is the White Fathers’ Printing Press at Bukalasa (Buddu) which, besides supplying the mission’s general requirements, publishes three periodicals and has issued a steady stream of religious and educational publications”. Because the ¿rst schools were started in Buganda and since Missionaries were the pioneers of education, Luganda was used both in church and schools in Buganda as well as the Eastern region (Busoga and Bugisu). For instance, Thomas and Scott (1935: 16) remark that in Uganda, “the medium of instruction is either Swahili [Kiswahili] or (in Buganda and Busoga) Luganda, while English is taught as a subject”. For example, Rwagacuzi (1981: 82) observes that: [T]he boys of Kings and chiefs of Bunyoro, Toro, Ankole and Busoga went to Namirembe, the high school of Buganda … the boys from outside Buganda spoke a different dialect from that of the Baganda people. All of them were obliged to learn Luganda because, besides Charles Hattersley, there was a Muganda teacher and because of him, Luganda became the of¿cial language of instructions … these schools were located in the Buganda region, the language of instruction was of the Baganda.

Luganda continues to be used as a lingua franca in educational institutions in and around Kampala, although English is the of¿cial language of instruction at least in Kampala city, right from primary one and in some cases from kindergarten.1 However, research has showed that there are situations whereby, teachers spontaneously code switch between English and Luganda in classroom. For example, Nganda (1995: 112 – 113) observes that in an English composition lesson in which the words; colour, nice and tall had to be used, the English teacher started off by saying, “‘Leero tujja kugenda mu colour. Ani ayinza okumbuulira erinnya lya colour yonna gy’amanyi?’ i.e. Today we shall go into (discuss) colours. Who can tell me any of the colours he/she knows?” Further occasions of Luganda-English classroom code switching were observed by Ssempuuma (2008). He found a growing tendency among the Baganda to Lugandarise English words. The abolition of the punishment for students who spoke their vernacular language in schools has also encouraged the use of Luganda in schools within the Central region and Kampala city. One reason for 1. Due to the multilingual make up of Kampala, English is the language of instruction from primary one although outside the city it is the main local language in the region that is used as language of instruction from primary one up to primary ¿ve.

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127

this could be that English, in spite of its of¿cial status, is still somehow regarded as a foreign language. This signi¿cantly limits its application as a language in which one can express himself or herself freely. For instance, in a speech event quoted below (example 1), the teacher code switches from English to Luganda in order to make his point clearer to his students. The excerpt is taken from the corpus of Luganda-English code switching I put together in 2008. It involved recordings of language use in both formal and informal contexts like school or social occasions, e.g. weddings, the home. Some of the data collected is reported in Ssempuuma (2008). Example 1 Setting: Speech by the sports teacher to students at the end of the Sports day. 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Sports teacher: To those who have been working with him, I am not happy with You. Yes. ‘Enswera ekwagala y’ekugwa ku bbwa. Kandigweeko.2 Sports teacher: For me, this is a question I put to you. And above all, we have leaders among us who are supposed to guide us in the various sports activities. So for me, the question is: How long are we going to continue pushing you? Tubaleze ekimala kati nammwe muyige okwetengerera. Yeee! Mwetengerere! Akaana bwe kaba kayiga okutambula, osooka n’okakwaatako, ne kagenda nga katambulira ku kisenge, nga bw’okakutteko. N’okayimbira n’obuyimba kaleme kugwa. Oluva awo n’ogamba nti oba kagwa kagwe naye kayina okuyiga okutambula.3 Nsaba nammwe mwenyigire mu mizannyo, ne activities za seminario zetuteekawo zibateekemu omutima gw’obukulembeze. Nazze wano dda, n’eyo gye tubadde mbadde mbuuza nti leader aliwa? Leader ng’ angamba nti “Nninda Rev.” Rev. Ssiyeyalibadde wano mu butuufu. Leader owabayizi akulira sports yeyandibadde atuwa report ku lunaku nga luno. Nti ebintu byange bitambudde bwebiti ne bwebiti. Nsanze kino nakino. Sinenya Mbidde yekka. Njogera ku ba-leaders

2. English version: To those of you who have been working with him, I am not happy with you. Yes. “It is the Ày which is fond of you that mercilessly lands on your open wound/sore. (Lit. meaning: “The truth is often bitter!” (Therefore [sic]. Let me do the same i.e. land upon your wound/sore.) 3. English version: We have baby seated you enough. Yes, become self reliant. Even when a small child is learning how to walk, you begin by holding her or his hand, then s/he begins walking along the wall while holding on to your hand. One even sings him songs of encouragement so that s/he may not fall. There comes a time, however, when one says: Enough is enough. No matter whether s/he falls down or not, s/he must learn to walk alone.

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17 bonna. Tukyabulamu omutima ogwobukulembeze.4 As long as I am still in the 18 sports team, I will be less informed. I want you to get ready for leadership.

In the above example, in line 02, the teacher employs a Luganda proverb to emphasize his bitterness. He goes on to illustrate his point by using the Kiganda cultural way of training a child to be self reliant (lines 06 – 10). The speech which was started in the English language was thus ¿nished in the Luganda language with limited English-word borrowing such as activities, leaders, sports, and report. He continues to switch between the two languages but where he gets emotional, the tendency is to switch to Luganda. The continuous use of Luganda in educational institutions can be explained by considering its position both at the local and national levels. As Mukama (1999) observes, the Luganda language is still in a strong position since it is the only indigenous one being developed and promoted at both ethnic and national level. In her opinion, the promoters of the Luganda language appear to have a de¿nite plan that has “well amalgamated with an equally de¿nite cultural planning framework” (Mukama (1991: 338). This can be demonstrated in the average Ugandans who can hold a conversation in Luganda. For instance, the study by Ladefoged et al. (1972: 25) reveals that 39% of Ugandans could hold a conversation in Luganda in 1972. This percentage was higher than that for Kiswahili (35%) and English (21%). Although there is no current research on this aspect of the language situation in Uganda, the observation I made during ¿eldtrips in Kampala in 2007 indicates that the percentages of people who can hold a conversation in the three languages have increased and the status quo in percentages of speakers may not have changed. It is also important to mention that although the teaching and learning of Luganda as a subject have been con¿ned to the Buganda region since the abolition of Buganda’s political hegemony and its special position in Uganda in 1967, still, it takes the lion’s share as the most learned language subject (with the exception of English which is compulsory at both primary and secondary levels). This can be clearly portrayed by looking at the number of learners registered for the four language subjects between 1993 and 1997 as shown in Table 4 below. 4. English version: I request you to get involved in sports and activities of the seminary presented to you, so that you learn leadership skills. I arrived earlier here, even wherever I have been, I have been asking where the leader is. The leader has been replying “I am waiting for Rev”. It should be the sports leader to stand here and give us his report. Like that our sports have run like this and that. We have had such and such challenges. I do not blame Mbidde alone but all leaders. We still lack a spirit of leadership.

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Table 4. Number of learners per language registered for the Uganda Certi¿cate Exams (UCE) (Kagaba 2000: 33) Year

Kiswahili

German

Luganda

Arabic

1993

20

103

5527

164

1994

58

93

6443

139

1995

128

106

7720

280

1996

223

109

7966

273

1997

251

97

8540

325

Total [38,565]

680 (1.7%)

508 (1.3%)

36,196 (93.8%) 1,181 (3.2%)

The landslide preference for Luganda shows, among other things, people’s attitude towards Kiswahili, the only other almost native language in the list. In the years 1993 and 1994, there are more candidates for German than for Kiswahili. The negative attitude towards Kiswahili in the 1990s to the present day may be that for many people in Uganda, Kiswahili was the language of soldiers, robbers, and rebel groups. It was the language used to intimidate and command people to death during the Civil wars in Uganda. The number of students who go for Luganda is on a steady in all ¿ve years. If this trend has remained thus, twelve years after, then it is clear that Luganda has regained its lingua franca role in education. Figure 1 makes the picture even clearer. Whereas the graph for Luganda and Kiswahili keep rising, the others Àuctuate from year to year. The most signi¿cant and persistent rise is of course witnessed for Luganda. 100 80 Kiswahili 60 40

German Luganda Arabic

20 0 Figure 1. Students registered for UCE according to language

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5.

Factors leading to the promotion of Luganda as a lingua franca

Apart from being the language of Kampala, the heartland of Uganda, Luganda is the language of the central and most fertile section of Buganda. In addition, the economic, educational and social developments in the Buganda region have continued to act as a magnet which attracts people to this region. Furthermore, the hospitality of the Baganda makes immigrants from other regions to feel at home. As Roscoe (1965: 6) observes “their manners were courteous and they welcomed strangers and showed hospitality to guests”. From a historical point of view, Kampala city developed from the Buganda Kibuga (capital) which was at Mengo by the time Europeans came to Uganda. It was the of¿cial seat of the kingdom of Buganda and developed as an African urban centre. At the beginning of the 20th century, its functions were extended to cover other parts of the Uganda protectorate. For instance, Munger (1951: 11 – 12) contends that under the 1900 Agreement between the Buganda kingdom and the British government, Kampala had administrative, legislative, and judicial powers over an area comprising one-¿fth of Uganda. It further developed as a trade, transport, and commercial centre; site of eighteen religious headquarters, eight of which have jurisdiction extending outside Uganda; the principal centre of higher education in all of East Africa; and on some occasions, the effective seat of the whole British administration, although Entebbe was the Capital of the Protectorate. For example, Southall and Gutkind (1957: 3) remark that in 1906, “Kampala was gazetted as a township administered and ¿nanced directly by the Protectorate administration and in 1949, declared an independent municipality administered by Mayor and Deputy Mayor from 1950 till today”. In recent decades, it has evolved into a media centre with operational television (TV) and radio stations5 (Asaph and Ssempagala 2005: 88 – 92). These TV and radio stations broadcast in English and different local languages with Luganda taking the lion’s share of air time. The Baganda have also contributed to the spread of their language. For instance, Munger (1951: 80) contends that “because the Baganda have been the political and intellectual leaders of Uganda, the centre of their ideas has inÀu5. The television stations in Kampala include; Uganda Television, Lighthouse Television, Wavah Broadcasting Services, TV Africa, and Multichoice Uganda. Some of the radio stations are; BBC World Service, Butebo Radio, Capital Radio, Central Broadcasting Service, Bukedde FM, East African Radio, Greater African Radio, Green Channel, Impact FM, Power FM, Radio France International, Radio Maria, Radio Sapientia, Radio Simba, Radio West, Sanyu FM, Star Radio, Top Radio, and Voice of Africa.

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enced not only Buganda but the whole country”. For instance, Herrick et al. (1969: 78) report that in 1968 the majority of the African language newspapers were in Luganda, and a considerable body of literature existed in this language. In addition, Munger (1951: 62) reveals that the vernacular press, for example, the of¿cial bulletin of the Buganda government Akiika Embuga and Ebifa Mu Uganda (both in Luganda), strengthened Buganda’s unity in appearance, language, and customs. The development of literature in the Luganda language is further emphasized by Walusimbi (2002: 9) when he notes that “Luganda by the year 1966 had far more books, newspapers and other printed documents than any language in East and Central Africa, Kiswahili inclusive”. The Luganda language is not only promoted in the media (TV, radio and written press) but also in the different forms of entertainment. These include music, drama, and theatre. Almost 90% of these forms of entertainment are engineered by the Baganda and their performance is in the Luganda language. For example, Kadondo Kamu (single guitar) groups such as Kulabako and Matendo Singers use entirely the Luganda language. Another striking form of entertainment is the Luganda theatre in Uganda. The inÀuence of this type of theatre on the Ugandan community is colourfully described by Mbowa (1999: 227) when she reports that: Out of the more than 400 theatre groups registered with the Ugandan Theatre Groups Association, more than half are operating in Kampala itself, the immediate neighbourhood of the Capital or the Buganda part of the country. Banners at the busiest intersections of Bombo or Kampala Road or at the roundabouts leading to the city centre, advertise the plays of The Theatricos, The Bakayimbira Dramactors or The Ebonitas, theatrical groups that are often housed in former cinema halls and perform their Luganda plays every weekend to packed houses. On the major roads, the Entebbe Road or the Masaka Road, smaller groups offer their shows in less formal venues, in church community centres or even in public bars. In terms of quantity, theatre in Luganda has de¿nitely become the dominant genre of cultural or creative activity and one of the most popular forms of entertainment in the country.

These theatre performances focus on the social, cultural and political atmosphere of the day. For instance, Ndiwulira (a drama on the spread of HIV/ AIDS) by the Bakayimbira Dramactors was promoted by the Ugandan government as a means of HIV/AIDS awareness among the Ugandan population and with special focus on students. The political turmoil in Uganda has led to the ascendance of the comical and political escapist farces. The Ugandan music and entertainment industry is also inÀuenced by the global trends in the movie and video production. For instance, the Amarula Family in their videos such as Akaama ka CHOGM, M7, and Pastor’s wife, though designed on the

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Nigerian movie making style, nevertheless use Luganda as the main language. These Nigerian-movies which are produced in English are synchronised in the Luganda language. The synchronisation from English to Luganda in Uganda is not limited to the movie and video sector. For instance, in the broadcast of the European club Champion’s League competition, people watch football on television while listening to the commentaries in Luganda on the Central Broadcasting Service (CBS Radio Buganda). Kampala being the capital of Uganda, it attracts people from all parts of the country. Since these people speak various languages which are generally unintelligible to many Ugandans, we could also claim that they have no choice but to use Luganda as a common language. Moreover, as Herrick et al. (1969: 78) remark, it is widely spoken in the southern part of the country. Mazrui and Mazrui (1998: 134) also report that “the barely literate house-servant at Makerere would speak to her family in Rutoro and to her neighbours in Luganda”. Speakers of Luganda in Kampala are further represented by Myers Scotton (1972: 80 – 1) when she states that: For the overall sample, 38 per cent of the Eastern Bantu group and 18 per cent of the Western Bantu group report using some Luganda with neighbours of a different ethnic group. But 28 per cent of the Baluyia and 18 per cent of the Eastern Nilotic group also say they use some Luganda. In the inter-group work situation, 18 per cent of the Eastern Bantu groups in the overall sample say they use some Luganda and 8 per cent of the Eastern Bantu group report using some. But 11 per cent of the Baluyia and 8 per cent of the Sudanic group also say they use some. With an African shopkeeper – where use of Luganda may be at its highest – again several other groups use as much Luganda as the non-Baganda Ugandan Bantu groups. As usual, the Baganda themselves report using the most, with 76 per cent; the eastern Bantu group follows with 52 per cent and the Baluyia with 50 per cent.

In this section, the discussion has focused on the factors that have led to the development of Luganda as a lingua franca. We have seen that the Baganda have played a great role in the promotion of their language. Even today, the two Luganda language committees in the country – the Luganda Language Society and the Luganda Academy – are doing very well in encouraging publication and research in and on this language. The low pro¿le of Kiswahili as a lingua franca also contributed to the spread of Luganda as a lingua franca in Uganda. Further still, the role of Kampala as the seat of the Buganda kingdom and the capital of Uganda has also emphasised and increased the use of Luganda as a common language. The next section illustrates more areas and cases in which Luganda is used as a lingua franca.

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Evidence of Luganda as a lingua franca in Kampala

This part of the chapter presents some of more evidence for the use of Luganda as a lingua franca. The examples were collected during the ¿eld study carried on in Kampala in August and September 2007 and from October 2008 to January 2009. These ¿ndings are a qualitative representation of language use in Kampala. In 1972, Myers Scotton (1972) conducted a quantitative study regarding language use in Kampala. Her study was mainly concerned with people’s attitudes towards the use of Kiswahili, Luganda, and English. When asked what language they believed a Kampala bus conductor should know, the nonBaganda Ugandan Bantus gave responses closer to those of other non-Baganda than to the Baganda themselves. For instance, 62 per cent of the Baganda believed some Luganda would be necessary, but only 26 per cent of the Eastern Bantu group and 29.5 per cent of the Western Bantu group agreed with this (Myers Scotton 1972: 81). These attitudes, if weighed today, fall short of the extent to which Luganda is used in the public transport system. The qualitative samples from the transport, trade and commercial sectors, and billboards advertisements reported below indicate actual language use rather than people’s attitudes about which language should be used in Kampala and Uganda. 6.1.

Evidence from the transport sector

Transport is one of Kampala’s chief preoccupations. It has a complex series of varied hinterlands extending in some instances beyond the borders of Uganda. The following observations were made in the two Mini-Bus taxi parks in Kampala. First of all, Luganda is the language used by Utoda Transport Agents to call passengers to board buses going to different destinations in Uganda. Passengers are then directed to the right taxi travelling to their destination in Luganda. For instance, a taxi travelling to Masaka is generally announced thus: Masaka mutuule mw’eno, Kosita yiiyo. (Those going to Masaka sit in that coach); Masaka, agenderawo tuula mu maaso awo (One travelling immediately to Masaka, sit in front of this one); Masaka, mujje mw’eno (Those to Masaka, come in this one). The same style and almost the same Luganda words are used to call passengers travelling to other parts of Uganda, for example, “Mbarara, Rukungiri mu maaso awo”; “Ow’e Jinja, Nakawa tuula awo”; “Ow’e Hoima agenderawo yiiyo egenda”. Another evidence of Luganda as a lingua franca in the transportation sector is illustrated in the communication in a taxi destined for Jinja. In example 2 below, the conductor who was communicating with the driver in Rutooro changed to Luganda when communicating with the passengers.

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Example 2 Conductor: Waliwo avaamu ku Kampala Road? Driver: Waliwo atatuuka ku Jinja Road? Conductor: Temuli. Passenger: Ssebo Ssente ziizino. Conductor: Okoma wa? Passenger: Jinja Road. Driver: Wa wennyini? Conductor: [to passenger] Kaakati ompadde ka mitwalo ebiri, kati change namujjawa? Obadde ompeera ebiri mu Park. Naye kati tutuuse wano nze change namujjawa? Okoma ku Shell Jinja Road? Shell Jinja Road, bwetuyita wali netugwa ku Kitante Road, kiyinza okukukosa? Tuyite wano waggulu. Conductor: [to driver] Tumuteeke ku Shell wali tufunewo ne ku change. Driver: Aviiramu ku Shell? Conductor: Yee, agambye wona woofuna parking. Conductor: [complaining] Omuntu n’omanya nti olugendo lw’ogendako lwa shilling lukumi, naye kati n’ompa Shilling emitwalo ebiri. Singa wambuliriddewo mu Park. Kale ogenda n’ompa Ssente nga nnyingi ate ng’ogenda wantu wampi nnyo. Kitukalubiriza! Kati obudde bw’etumalira nga tukunoonyeza change. Singa kati tuli wala. English version (my translation) Conductor: Is there any one stopping at Kampala Road? Driver: Is there any one going as far as Jinja Road? Conductor: There is no one. Passenger: Mister, here is my fare. Conductor: Where do you stop? Passenger: Jinja Road. Driver: Where exactly? Conductor: [to passenger] Now that you have given me twenty thousand shillings, where am I going to get change? You would have given me twenty thousand at the park. Now we have reached here, where am I going to get the change? Are you stopping at Jinja Road? Shell Jinja Road, if we take the other route and pass near Kitante Road, will it inconvenience you? Conductor: [to driver] Let us leave him at Shell so that we can get change. Driver: Is he stopping at Shell? Conductor: Yes, he has said anywhere you can get parking. Conductor: [complaining] If you know that the fare of your journey is one thousand shillings, why do you give me twenty thousand shillings? You would have told me when we were still in the park. It is disturbing to give me big shillings when you are stopping very near. It disturbs us a lot. We have spent a lot of time looking for your change. We would have been very far now.

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When I asked the conductor why he uses Luganda rather than English the of¿cial language or Kiswahili the national language of Uganda, I was not only laughed at by my fellow passengers but also the reply from the conductor was in Luganda, “Olowooza bwoyogera Oluzungu bonna baba baasoma?” (You want to use English; do you think that all people went to school?). The excerpt above and the reaction of passengers to my question and the conductor’s answer demonstrate that Luganda is the language of the common people and English is treated as a class erecting language. It is, therefore, no doubt that Luganda is preferred in normal daily activities. 6.2.

Evidence from trade and commercial sector

Trade and commerce are common activities in Kampala city. Many people from different parts of Uganda Àock the city to purchase different merchandises. From the small shops to the big super markets, Luganda dominates as the language of trade. Even in shops owned by foreigners such as Indians, a person who speaks Luganda must be employed to ease communication. For instance, in a super market owned by Indians at Wandegeya, Luganda-speaking attendants were the ones communicating with the customers. I also observed that Luganda is used in most daily markets, selling vegetables and foods. Surprisingly, some market attendants could speak to each other in their respective local languages but when they had to talk to a customer they immediately switched to Luganda. In one incident at Nakawa market (example 3), one of the market attendants answered my questions in Luganda although her parents are both from the Lugbara ethnic group. Example 3 JS (Jude Ssempuuma): I have heard many people using Luganda rather than English in the Market. Why do most of you use Luganda when talking to your customers? MA (Market attendant): Yee, munnange, okutunda mu katale muno oteekwa okuba ng’Oluganda olumanyi bulungi. Naye kiba kirungi okubeera linguistic nga buli lulimi olumanyi. (Yes my friend, you must be Àuent in Luganda in order to sell your items in this market. But it is also good to be a linguist and have competence in many languages.) JS: How many languages do you speak? MA: Nze manyi Oluswayiri, Oluluo, n’Olwange. (I know Kiswa-hili, Luo, and my mother tongue.) JS: Which one is your mother tongue? MA: Lugbara.

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JS: And how did you learn Luganda? MA: Eee! Nze nzaliddwa muno, nsomedde muno, nfumbiddwa muno eh! Kati kiki ekisobola okunnema? Kati tolaba, Kati ndi wa muno. Ewaffe nkyalayo bukyaazi n’enkomawo. (Eeh! I was born, went to school and married here (Buganda or Central region). What don’t I know in Luganda? Now you can see that I am from Buganda. I just visit our ancestral place and come back here.)

The above incident demonstrates how non-native Baganda people use Luganda in their daily activities. Although I spoke to the market attendant in English, she consistently answered me in Luganda. She assumed that I knew Luganda. This con¿rms that knowledge of the Luganda language makes communication in Kampala easier. 6.3.

Evidence from advertisements and billboards

The language of advertisement in a multilingual city like Kampala is another indicator that such a language is a lingua franca. Unlike in Kenya and Tanzania where Kiswahili is the main language used in advertisement, in Uganda, Luganda dominates the domain of advertisement and billboards. The competition for customers among different companies has revolutionarised the advertisement industry in Uganda. Since Luganda is the language of the common person in Kampala, these companies have coined very interesting phrases in Luganda and have inserted them in their advertisements on radio, television, in newspapers and even on billboards. By speaking Luganda and rubbing shoulders with both native and non-native speakers of Luganda during their prize give-away ceremonies in towns, these companies hope to beat their competitors and meet their sales target. Some of the commonly used Luganda slogans are presented in Table 5. Table 5. Luganda slogans used in advertisements Company

Slogan

English gloss

Celtel

Kibooko

Something strong and long lasting

Century Bottling Co. Limited Bonga ne Coke

Go with Coke

Dyer and Blair

Bannange gyemuli? Guys, are you there?

MTN Uganda

Kabiriiti

Something new and of good quality

Standard Chartered Bank

Yoola Omudidi

Get cash

Uganda Telecom

Katikitiki

Seconds (Air time)

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In Uganda, telecommunication companies hold a near monopoly in billboard advertisement. Still in this sector, Luganda is the dominant language of advertisement as Figures 2 and 3 demonstrate.

Figure 2. MTN Uganda billboard in Luganda Emiwendo giri ku ttaka. MTN Zone okukekkereza okwensuso essaawa 24. Ate kisukkawo ekiro ne ku Wikeendi. (Prices are reduced. With MTN Zone you save 24 hours. It is even extreme at night and on weekends).

Figure 3. Warid Telecom Luganda billboard Funa Eyattayimu ow’obwereere olwokufuna amasimu. Enkola eneekola ku masimu gokka agakukubirwa okuva ku mikutu emirala. Enkola n’obukwakkulizo bigobererwa. (Get free airtime by receiving phone calls. This offer is for phone calls received from other telecom companies. The conditions of the offer have to be followed).

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It is also important to note that in both advertisements, the English words “weekend” and “Air time” have been Lugandarised as Wikeendi and Eyattayimu” respectively. The nativisation of these words both in pronunciation and orthography shows how deeply rooted the spread of Luganda into different spheres of life is. It is rapidly incorporating foreign lexical items related to new technologies into the wealth of its vocabulary in a bid to serve its speakers. The use of Luganda in advertisement is not only limited to billboards. Even other institutions in Uganda (both government and non-government organizations) have acknowledged the importance of Luganda as a language that speaks to the public. For instance, Figure 4 is an advertisement sponsored by both the central government (Ministry of Health) and the NGOs (Population Service International (PSI) and Youth Aids), and illustrates the place of Luganda in formal domains hitherto reserved only for the of¿cial English language.

Figure 4. Luganda language billboard sponsored by central government and NGOs Wandikkirizza omusajja ono okukozesa muwala wo atanneetuuka? N’olwekyo lwaki ggwe okozesa owuwe? Eby’okwegadanga wakati w’abantu abakulu n’abavubuka abato bikoma ku ggwe. (Would you accept such a man to have sex with your young daughter? If not why do you misuse his? Sex between adults and children should stop with you).

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In this billboard, the central government through its ministry of health and NGOs PSI and Youth Aids use Luganda to campaign against cross-generational sex. The man in the picture is not a star or a VIP as it is common with most advertisements but is an unknown, common, any-man-at-the-corner face used to pass on the message.

7.

Conclusion

As the many historical facts and contemporary examples discussed in this chapter show, the Luganda language is not only spoken by the Baganda but also by many people from different linguistic backgrounds. This study has tried to show how an indigenous African language can be used as a lingua franca. It has discussed the factors which have led to its development as the most widely spoken language in Uganda. It has stressed the role of the missionaries and the Baganda in the promotion of Luganda during the colonial times and in present days. The status and location of Kampala city which, besides being the capital of Uganda, is also the seat of the Buganda kingdom, have contributed to this resurgence of Luganda as a lingua franca. Luganda’s role as language of administration and education were key factors to indicate its status as a lingua franca during the colonial era. The present situation reveals how the main activities of Kampala city, that is, transport and trade, necessitate communicative competence in the Luganda language. As the evidence in section four and Table 4 have illustrated, Luganda is now extensively used as second language by non native speakers. It is encroaching, rather rapidly, into some of the domains reserved for the of¿cial language, English. It is used in schools, in regional administration in Buganda, and is the preferred language due to its strange neutrality in the battle with English and Kiswahili. Strange because one would normally expect, as it is the case in most other African countries, speakers of other indigenous languages to resist the spread of Luganda. This is not the case, perhaps because of the long history of the language as a political, economic and social tool, promoted over the years by different actors: the Buganda kingdom, the Christian missionaries, and the colonial administrators. Will Luganda challenge English in its of¿cial functions in the future? Will its spread result in more negative attitudes towards English on similar lines as the conductor in the bus conversation quoted above? Answers to these questions could only be obtained through quantitative studies: which unfortunately lie beyond the scope of the present chapter. They are nevertheless important lines of investigation for future research.

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References Asaph, Robert and Ssempagala, Mpagi 2005 Uganda Districts Information Handbook: Expanded Edition 2005 – 2006. Kampala: Fountain Publishers. Boadu Samuel Osei 1985 African oral artistry and new social order. In: Kete, Asante Mole¿ and Asante Kariamu Welsh (eds.), African Culture: The Rhythms of Unity. London: Greenwood Press. 83 – 90. Crystal, David 1992 An Encyclopaedic Dictionary of Language and Languages. London: Penguin Books. Ehret, Christopher 2000 Language and history. In: Heine, Bernd and Derek Nurse (eds.), African Languages: An Introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 272 – 297. Finnegan, Ruth 1970 Oral Literature in Africa. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Fontaine, La J. S. 1959 The Gisu of Uganda. London: International African Institute. Gordon, Raymond G., Jr. (ed.) 2005 Ethnologue: Languages of the World. 15th edition. Dallas Tex.: SIL International. Herrick, Allison Bulter et al. 1969 Area Handbook for Uganda. Washington D.C: Foreign Area Studies the American University. Herriman, Michael and Burnaby, Barbara (eds.) 1996 Language Policies in English Dominant Countries. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Hudson, Harry Laity 1996 Time Remembered: Reminiscences of Education in Uganda and Nyasaland 1946 – 1964. Edinburgh: The Pentland Press. Kagaba, Peter 2000 Promoting Kiswahili in Uganda schools: A report on progress. In: Parry, Kate (ed.), Language and Literacy in Uganda: Towards a Sustainable Reading Culture. Kampala: Fountain Publishers Ltd. Kasozi, Anthony B. K. 2000 Policy statements and the failure to develop a national language in Uganda: A historical survey. In: Parry, Kate (ed.), Language and Literacy in Uganda. Kampala: Fountain Publishers Ltd. 23 – 29. Kiwanuka, Ssemakula 1971 A History of Buganda: From the foundation of the Kingdom to 1900. London: Longman Group Limited.

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Ladefoged, Peter, Ruth Glick, and Clive Criper (eds.) 1972 Language in Uganda. London: Oxford University Press. Langlands, B. W, Alan Rake, and Linda Van Buren (eds.) 2008 Uganda. In: Africa South of the Sahara 2008. 37th Edition. London: Routledge Taylor and Francis Group. 1232 – 1259. Low, Anthony D. 1971 The Mind of Buganda: Documents of the Modern History of an African Kingdom. London: Heinemann. Lugira, Aloysius M. 1970 Ganda Art: A Study of the Ganda Mentality with Respect to Possibilities of Acculturation in Christian Art. Kampala: Osasa Publication. Mazrui, Ali and Alamin Mazrui 1998 The Power of Babel: Language and Governance in the African Experience. Kampala: Fountain Publishers. Mbowa, Rose 1999 Luganda theatre and its audience. In: Breitinger, Eckhard (ed.), Uganda: The Cultural Landscape. Kampala: Fountain Publishers Ltd. 227 – 246. Mukama, Ruth G. 1991 Getting Ugandans to speak a common language: Recent developments in the language situation and prospects for the future. In: Bernt, Hansen Holger and Twaddle Michael (eds.), Changing Uganda: The Dilemmas of Structural Adjustment and Revolutionary Change. Kampala: Fountain Press. 334 – 350. Munger, Edwin S. 1951 Relational Patterns of Kampala. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Myers-Scotton, Carol 1972 Choosing a Lingua Franca in an African Capital. Edmonton: Linguistic Research, Inc. Nganda, Cecilia Namulondo 1995 Primary Education and Social Integration: Ethnic Stereotypes in the Uganda Basic Text Books. Bayreuth: Bayreuth African Studies. Nsibambi, Apolo 2000 Language and literacy in Uganda: A view from the Ministry of Education and Sports. In: Parry, Kate (ed.), Language and Literacy in Uganda. Kampala: Fountain Publishers Ltd. 2 – 5. Nzita, Richard and Mbaga Niwampa (eds.) 1995 Peoples and Cultures of Uganda. Kampala: Fountain Publishers Ltd. Pei, Mario 1966 Glossary of Linguistic Terminology. New York: Doubleday and Company, Inc.

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Richards, Audrey 1969 The Multicultural States of East Africa. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press. Roscoe, John 1965 The Baganda: An Account of their Native Customs and Beliefs. London: Frank Cass and Co. Ltd. Rwagacuzi, Faustin 1981 A History of Ugandan Disunity with Special Attention to Buganda from the Middle of the Nineteenth Century to the First Years of Independence in 1962. Claremont: University Micro¿lms International. Southall, A. William and Peter C. W. Gutkind (eds.) 1957 Townsmen in the Making: Kampala and its Suburbs. Kampala: East African Institute of Social Research. Ssempuuma, Jude 2008 Luganda-English Code-switching among the Baganda. Unpublished MA Thesis, University of Bayreuth. Ssozi, A. D 1988 Primary education in Uganda. In: Abidi, S.A.H. (ed.), The Future of Education in Eastern Africa. Nairobi: Professors World Peace Academy of Uganda. 1 – 8. Thomas, H. B. and Robert Scott 1935 Uganda. London: Oxford University Press. Thomas, H. B. and Robert Scott 1949 Uganda. London: Oxford University Press. Walusimb, Livingstone 2002 Multilingual literacy in Uganda: A state of the art and challenges for the future. In: Glanz, Christine and Okot Benge (eds.), Exploring Multilingual Community Literacies: Workshop at the Uganda German Cultural Society, Kampala, September 2001. Hamburg: Universität Hamburg. 8 – 12.

Chapter 7 Roles and identities in postcolonial political discourse in Cameroon Stephen A. Mforteh

1.

Introduction

Following Goffman’s (1974) notion of the multiplicity of roles and the personrole continuum, and more recently, Pavlenko and Blackledge’s (2004) discussion on negotiated identities, this chapter analyses pre-prepared political texts read out by political leaders to their benevolent followers in a postcolonial context. Two speeches, essentially monologues, by leading political ¿gures in contemporary Cameroon are used to highlight assumed political leadership roles and also to assess the multiple identities gleaned through the roles performed. These political leaders are President Paul Biya, chairman of the ruling Cameroon Peoples’ Democratic Movement (CPDM) party and Ni John Fru Ndi, chairman of the opposition Social Democratic Front (SDF) party. The aim of this chapter is to investigate the different roles and identities politicians adopt in their speeches in a bid to stay closer to their followers, invite them to take socio-political action and/or to ridicule or discredit political opponents. The analyses illustrate the complex interrelations between personal identities and social roles in political leadership discourse. The texts analysed here are considered prototypes of the type of political discourse that obtains in the postcolonial era in Cameroon. From their surface content, the texts show how political ¿gures are highly concerned with social rights and obligations. An important aim of this chapter is to show how these politicians construct these rights and obligations discursively. The linguistic signals indicate that identities and roles are commonly evaluated in terms of the duality of personal identity and social obligations, and that the identities and social roles of leaders are often conÀicting. In order to set up the contract of communication between the leader and their followers, discourse expectations carry explicit references but role-assertions are merely implicit and often slightly attenuated within the text.

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Political leadership discourse, especially spoken monologues or written dispatches, is not a highly rule-governed discourse activity, as it is the case with news interviews wherein discourse patterns are determined to a large extent by an assumed division of roles between interviewer and interviewee (see Heritage 1985, 1998, Greatbatch 1988, Heritage and Greatbatch 1991, and Drew and Sorjonen 1997). Whereas in interviews there is a certain division of roles involving asking questions, reacting to and answering questions, in monologue political speeches, the politician often, ¿rst of all interacts with herself or himself in what I call ‘intro-interaction’. This involves producing a discourse that comprises, besides the normal statements, questions and answers, attacks and counter attacks that are clearly dialogic and interactional as if they (politicians) were responding to some visible interviewer. Secondly, the political leaders in their dispatch or monologue assume different roles, and attempt to ful¿l them, at least discursively. Hinged on Goffman’s (1974) notion of role (i.e. capacity or function) as an aspect of personal identity, and Pavlenko and Blackledge’s (2004) discussion of negotiated identities, this chapter highlights the sociolinguistic interrelations between personal identity and the roles performed by the political leader within the con¿nes of his monologue.

2.

Theoretical frame

Goffman’s (1974) de¿nitions of identity and role have been adapted to the context of the present chapter. Goffman (1974: 128 – 129) supposes that each person possesses a personal identity, which makes him or her “a concrete organism with distinctively identifying marks, a niche in life” (p.128). In other words, s/he is a physical being with idiosyncratically identifying signs and a corresponding biography that show cultivated intellectual, domestic, professional, social, moral capacities or roles: all of these contribute to his or her personal identity. Pavlenko and Blackledge (2004) expand this perception of the individual to include the ways in which individuals align themselves with the expectations of their societies: Identity for them includes the social, discursive, and narrative options offered by a particular society in a speci¿c time and place to which individuals and groups of individuals appeal in an attempt to self-name, to self-characterize, and to claim social spaces and social prerogatives. (Pavlenko and Blackledge 2004: 19)

Expatiating on the issue of identity, Pavlenko and Blackledge (2004) argue that identity formation and the links between linguistic practices and social positions are also tied to issues of political and economic power relations and nego-

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tiations. This is most evident especially in situations of hegemonic leadership and the imposition of certain identities on other (minority, disadvantaged, etc.) peoples. In such contexts, the range of identities available to any individual is indexed by particular practices, especially linguistic behaviour. Language varieties are valued differently in the linguistic market, and this dissimilar valuation is related to the unequal status of individuals and groups within society. To sustain this argument on imbalance in power, this chapter juxtaposes two politicians: an incumbent leader – who is in power and an aspiring (opposition) political leader – who is vying for power. By extension, this imbalance also includes, as the politicians’ discursive choices show, their political parties and members of these parties. The postcolonial politician’s innate and cultivated roles or capacities could be deciphered from the discourse strategies adopted in their monologue political discourses. Focusing on the social roles generally ascribed to political leadership, they try to present themselves as being part of, and close to, the population. The roles adopted, in the case of postcolonial Cameroon, are inÀuenced by several factors, among them, the linguistic, religious, and tribal diversity of the country, the regional conÀicts between certain groups of people (tribes, social groups, etc.), the educational gap between certain classes of society, and the political orientations of the population1. The construction of (a political) identity and assumption of roles in Cameroon political leadership discourse could be traced to political uni¿cation after independence and the prevailing social conditions. The re-inception of multi-party politics in the 1990s created the chance for the performance of active political and social roles and the creation of (political) identities that had hitherto been stiÀed. The concepts of role, identity and membership category used here are derived from Antaki and Widdicombe (1998: iv), who show, among other things, that identities are constructed ‘live’ in the actual exchange of talk. They also explore “just how it is that a person can be ascribed to a category and what features about that category are consequential for the interaction”. This highlights the extent to which the roles and identity markers people adopt during conversation could project or curtail their aspirations and intentions. Politicians are aware of this and so constantly construct identities or discursively play roles that keep them closer to their electorate or party members. And as Pavlenko and Blackledge (2004: 27) further add,

1. There are more than 250 political parties in Cameroon. How effectively could the president address the nation without making reference to members of his political party?

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individuals are agentive beings who are constantly in search of new social and linguistic resources which allow them to resist identities that position them in undesirable ways, produce new identities, and assign alternative meanings to the links between identities and linguistic varieties.

The scope of the present chapter does not allow me to delve into the extensions of, and differences between, the concepts of role, identity and membership category. However, a simpli¿ed notion of ‘leadership role’ is rather conceived here whereby one or several functions are restricted to a presupposition of membership categorisation. A leader, according to this conception, will be said to realise a role only if s/he identi¿es himself or herself as a member of a given category. This notion of role further takes into consideration the obligations entailed in category membership. Role obligation pushes the member and in our case study, the political leader, to act in the interest of his or her group: in this case the parties and supporters of the political leaders. Discursive markers of group membership are expected to feature in the discourse of both leaders as they seek to identify with those they address. The importance of role-obligations in discourse is explained by Labov and Fanshel (1977: 95), when they state that “there are many obligations that a person must ful¿l in order to be seen as performing his normal role in society with full competence”. However, the study of roles per se is not without problems. For example, Schegloff (1991, 1992) and Sacks (1995) are of the opinion that roles should be investigated to the extent that they are made relevant by the speakers, and have consequences for their social interaction. Greatbatch and Dingwall (1998: 121) are concerned with how linguists, psychologists, psychiatrists, etc. can logically ascertain which of the identities that are applied to participants are pertinent to understanding their discourse. If the wrong identity is attributed, for instance, in a divorce hearing, the decision will certainly be affected by this. In spite of these problems, several roles could be identi¿ed in the discourse of Cameroonian politicians. The politician could in the course of the same speech present himself or herself as performing or being able or ready to perform roles such as management, mediating, inciting, opposing, pacifying, etc. These roles are revealed in many ways and in varying degrees of explicitness. Different discourse strategies are used to perform these roles. In interviews, for example, Weizman (2006) says, certain utterances by the interviewer, especially, could be interpreted as implying that the addressee has not ful¿lled his or her role appropriately or totally. In monologue discourses like political speeches, this is done by asking rhetorical questions about political opponents and leaving listeners to ¿nd out.

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Mforteh (2006a) enumerates several discourse strategies through which leaders directly or indirectly attack the positions of their opponents, e.g. use of irony, metaphor, and allegory. Some of these strategies recur here.

3.

Data

The data used for this chapter are taken from two speeches delivered by President Paul Biya (Text B – appendix 2), chairman of the Cameroon Peoples’ Democratic Movement (CPDM) party and incumbent president of Cameroon since 1982, and John Fru Ndi (Text A – appendix 1), chairman of the opposition Social Democratic Front (SDF) party since its inception in 1991. The SDF is the main opposition party in Cameroon. Text A (875 words) was delivered on May 26th 1990 at the launching of the SDF party in Bamenda, North West Region. Text B (675 words) was delivered as a president’s speech to the nation on March 23rd 1994. Following a classi¿cation based on lexical clues, initially proposed in Mforteh (2006a), Text A could be said to belong to the sub-genre of inciting discourse while Text B belongs to the educative/informative subgenre. These two texts are used here to illustrate the multifaceted relationships between roles and identities in leadership discourse. At the time the speeches being analysed were delivered, the strife for political leadership in Cameroon was rife. Particularly in 1990, before multiparty politics in Cameroon, the quest for multiparty practice was of very high premium and with the advent of the economic crisis in 1993, leadership discourse took on different tenets. This de¿nitely tilted the thrust of the two leaders to the prevailing circumstances: John Fru Ndi is inciting followers via carefully selected lexical items, allusions, and comparisons to participate in democratic activity while Paul Biya, through emotive appeals, is making a harsh socioeconomic situation to look normal, widespread and transient. The two leaders are, however, aided by three elements, viz., context, the presence of credulous listeners, and the hope and assurance of success instilled in the listeners. By selecting two politicians from opposing camps and with different pro¿les, I intend to illustrate the different but in some cases similar roles and identities revealed through their leadership discourse in the postcolonial era. Since their positions are evident from the start, our interest will be in the linguistic choices each makes to fully accomplish the different roles they choose to take and the identities they project via these roles.

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4.

Analysis and results

4.1.

Inclusive discourse strategies

As members of a group or category, the followers’ expectations hinge on the ways the political leader identi¿es with them, and conveys information that relates to their needs. Through the technique of inclusion, the leaders actually identify themselves within their respective categories. In the examples that follow, the choice of lexical items that signal closeness or rapprochement, especially the word ‘fellow’ (examples 1 and 2) with its connotative meanings (member, associate, colleague, comrade, equal, partner), is complemented by the careful use of inclusive (¿rst person plural) personal pronouns and possessive adjectives. An interesting fact is that both leaders use similar inclusive strategies but those included vary. While for Biya we includes all Cameroonians, Fru Ndi’s we is sometimes limited to members of the SDF and supporters present at the rally. In example 1 and 2, the two politicians use the word fellow as a distanceclosing strategy through which they set themselves closer to ‘Cameroonians’ (1) and ‘countrymen’ (2). In example 1, although Fru Ndi addresses members of the SDF, he targets, through the use of ‘fellow Cameroonians’, the entire population of the country. This enables him to reach across political, ethnic, religious and linguistic divides and unite the people behind him. This strategy works well for the type of discourse he engages in, i.e., inciting people to support him and hence reject the old political system. Example 1 (Text A) Fellow Cameroonians today is the most signi¿cant day in the struggle for democracy in Cameroon. Example 2 (Text B) Fellow countrymen, the Executive Board of the International Monetary Fund has endorsed our economic recovery programme.

In example 2, although the speaker also transcends party borders his intention is signi¿cantly informative. In a bid to show that the economic achievement is not his alone, he uses the inclusive plural pronoun our. Example 3 (Text B) On my part, I want to pay tribute to you, my fellow countrymen, for the courage with which you accepted and bore the sacri¿ces imposed on you.

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Biya, in example 3, uses my to bring the listeners even closer: ‘my fellow countrymen’. Even though he uses the distinctive pronouns my (in ‘on my part’ and ‘you’ (to you’), this distinction is somehow levelled by the ensuing use of ‘my’ together with ‘fellow countrymen’. The second inclusive strategy applied by the politicians is the use of the ¿rst person plural pronouns: ‘we’, ‘us’ and ‘our’. Both politicians use this inclusive strategy to refer to two distinct groups: in some instances they refer to members of their party and in others to Cameroonians as a whole. Relatively signi¿cant is the frequency of inclusive personal pronouns and possessive adjectives in the two texts (Table 1): we, us and our. In Text A, there are 30 tokens of these pronouns out of 875 words, and in Text B there are 38 tokens from a total word count of 675 words. Table 1. Personal pronouns and adjectives used to show group membership Inclusive marker

Text A

Text B

Total

1 per. plural pronouns (we & us)

we (22) us (5)

we (9) us (6)

31 11

1st per. plural Adj. (our)

our (3)

our (23)

26

Total

30

38

68

st

Let us examine how the president uses this inclusive strategy (Text B). The ¿rst thing to signal here is that he uses we and our to refer to himself and perhaps by extension to a small group of people, i.e., the administration (4). Here he does not expect the listeners to be involved in preserving the “work accomplished these past years”. Example 4 (Text B) We will do everything within our power so that the work accomplished these past years in all ¿elds, is not jeopardized.

There could be two possible interpretations for his choice of these pronouns: 1) avoiding responsibility for any failures that may come up in the future – the blame will be on an unspeci¿ed we and our. 2) showing the listeners that they too are part of the decision-making group, hence winning them over. The latter reason is more glaring in example 5 in which the listeners are not involved in any substantial way in ‘internal reconstruction’. They still, as (5) indicates, form the bigger set ourselves, i.e., the nation of which Biya and the government are the nucleus.

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Example 5 (Text B) We must focus on internal reconstruction tasks by relying above all on ourselves.

In examples 6, 7 and 8, Biya speaks in his capacity as president of the nation. He, therefore, includes all Cameroonians in the plural pronouns he uses. In doing this, he takes on his role as head of state. The use of we and our present dif¿culties (6) applies to all Cameroonians, he being one of them. He then goes on to use a distance-closing strategy when he says our people – in reference to those he is addressing; the same people he included in we and our in the preceding clause. Example 6 (Text B) I am sure that we will overcome our present dif¿culties, and our people will fortify their faith in the future.

Although the inclusive and distance-closing strategies seem to work here, the use of their faith shows that he is apparently not part of the ‘faith in the future’. In examples 7 and 8, Biya presents the business and life of the state as part of the responsibility of all people. He calls on listeners to ‘take a look around us’ (7) – involving them in a collective conscience or collective responsibility – and also informs them that the funds will ‘give us access to external ¿nancing’ (8) – reminding them of collective gain. Example 7 (Text B) Let us take a look around us. All countries, great or small, rich or poor, are facing dif¿culties and are according priority – which is normal – to their own needs. Example 8 (Text B) This third “stand-by arrangement”, should give us access to external ¿nancing worth some fourteen hundred thousand million CFA francs that would make us cope with our immediate needs and reduce our debt burden.

By including listeners and other countries ‘great or small’ in the dif¿culties (7), Biya derails any blame that could have been put on him. It is like saying, look around, it is not only us, others are facing similar dif¿culties. After involving listeners in this collective blame, he goes on to relieve them by including them in potential pro¿ts that may be ripped from the ‘third “stand-by agreement”’ (8). The president discursively detaches himself from responsibility when he switches to I in (9). In the ¿rst and second we and in our, he seemingly includes

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not only the administration but also the entire country. But this inclusive usage changes when he adopts the role of the supervisor, the head and distances himself from the administration. It is the job of the administration to ‘apply reforms that still appear necessary’ and not his. In the event of failure, this implies, the blame should be addressed to the administration and not to him. Example 9 (Text B) We are therefore on the right path; but we must not relent in our efforts. I am waiting that the administration further mobilizes itself and apply reforms that still appear necessary.

Let us now turn to the strategies adopted by the opposition leader, John Fru Ndi. Although the inclusion motif remains the same, the objective is to attract political support and to incite people to call for change. As example 10 illustrates, Fru Ndi uses inclusive and exclusive pronouns to incite or appeal to listeners. Addressing the crowd live, he talks directly to them, which is why the use of you and your is not absolutely exclusive. In order to suppress feelings of exclusion, he uses the neutral inclusive term people. Example 10 (Text A) Today we call on you to yell… “unless people yell a lot, they get ignored”. You can’t afford to get ignored. You must yell because if you are ignored, your children and your children’s children will get ignored tomorrow.

However, we could also say that the inclusive-exclusive nuance in example 10 is between those who have not yet accepted ‘to yell’ as the opposition leader is doing, on the one hand, and those Cameroonians (including the speaker) who have not accepted that the government intends the best for all. In either case, there is an implied inner and outer circle of followers. The above notwithstanding, Fru Ndi also uses inclusive pronouns even when he refers to himself. In examples 11 and 12, we, us and our own refer back to him. He and not the crowd shares the views of the Archbishop because, certainly the crowd does not know the Archbishop (11) and the act of assuring in example 12 is done by him and not the crowd – the crowd rather falls, to different degrees, in the everyone reference (12). Example 11 (Text A) In this context, we share the views of Archbishop Abel Muzorewa…

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Example 12 (Text A) Let us assure everyone here present that our own view of democracy is one where the people will retain their power to speak, to decide and act in the overall interest of their own society.

In other situations the inclusive pronouns refer to him and his immediate collaborators. Just like Biya does in example 4, Fru Ndi uses we and us in example 13 whereas what he refers to could only be done by him and his collaborators in the party. Example 13 (Text A) We are searching ways and means to secure the future for the generations that will follow us. And therefore, “to be democratic is to disagree about what democracy is”.

He, however, includes the crowd or listeners in his views and plans (examples 11 – 13) to assure them that he is concerned with their situation and is ready to serve them. He casts himself in the same mindset as the listeners. But when he decides to incite the listeners to stand up and oppose dictatorship, he still uses we but it is clear that the listeners are completely involved (examples 14, 15) and have to indeed ‘eschew any form of dictatorship’ (14) and ‘rid the Cameroonian society of a system that deprives it’ (15). Example 14 (Text A) We have to eschew any form of dictatorship because in contrast to a true democracy where the people decide what is good for them, dictatorships produce the following results “…oppression, servility, cruelty and more abominable is the fact that they breed stupidity.” Example 15 (Text A) We have to set as one of our goals to rid the Cameroonian society of a system that deprives it from being free men or otherwise punishing them for daring to think freely, associate freely, assemble peacefully and freely.

Like Biya in example 8, Fru Ndi enumerates some of the gains Cameroonians would have if they follow him. He, therefore, also invokes a collective conscience and a collective guilt if his call to yell and get rid of dictatorship is not heeded to.

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153

Exclusive discourse strategies

In the same way as there are strategies for including the audience in the inner political or identity circle, there are also ways to exclude those parts of the audience that do not belong to this circle. This is predominantly realised through the use of exclusive and distance-creating pronouns like you (plural), them, their, and they (Table 2). By using these possessive pronouns and possessive adjectives, the leaders incite (Text A) or educate (Text B) their followers. In all, there are 63 occurrences of these pronouns although only a few of them are overtly exclusionary. 38 of these are in Text A and 25 in Text B (Table 2). Table 2. The use of pronouns and adjectives to signal exclusion Exclusive marker

Text A

Text B

Total

Pronouns (you)

you (14)

you (17)

31

Adjective (your)

your (3)

your (6)

09

Pronoun (they, them)

they (7), them (4)

–

11

Adjective (their)

their (9)

their (2)

11

Total

37

25

62

As mentioned earlier, exclusive strategies seek to exclude Cameroonians who do not belong to the political party of the speaker or who do not share the ideology of the speaker, e.g. about democracy. Interestingly, in the texts analysed here, the speakers do not adopt the overtly exclusive strategy. They rather use inde¿nite pronouns like anyone (16), someone, everyone (12) or the demonstrative pronoun those (17) which all signal distance to the opponents referred to. Example 16 (Text A) Make no mistake and don’t allow yourself to be misled or misguided by anyone, no matter his station in life. Example 17 (Text A) Whether those who govern us accept it or not, we believe as others before us have believed and asserted, that the essence of democracy is about local people controlling their day-to-day affairs.

Through the proximity shown by I, we, on the one hand, and the distancing exhibited by the pronouns you, they, those on the other hand, it is supposed that if the followers of the aspiring leader (Text A) do not yell enough, ‘they’ (exclud-

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ing the speaker) would be ignored. Similarly, if the administration implicated in the statement, “I am waiting that the administration further mobilizes itself and apply reforms that still appear necessary” (Text B) (example 9) fails to apply them, the blame would not be on the incumbent leader. In line with role expectations, the leaders use these pronouns and adjectives to draw the line between their responsibilities and those of others within the membership category (i.e. members of the SDF and fellow Cameroonians/fellow countrymen). From the point of view of interest, it is indisputable that the leaders place themselves on an equal footing with those they address but it is the relevance of their affection to the accomplishment of their set goal rather than objectivity that seems to be the real issue. 4.3.

Dialogic discourse strategy: Intro-interaction

A third discourse strategy used by the politicians studied here to maintain a close relationship with the audience is intro-interaction which takes the form of dialogue. That is, the politicians enact their discourse by posing questions and then answering them. The roles subsumed by the leader derive from the asymmetrical (uneven and unbalanced) distribution of power between the hearer and speaker, and writer and reader, where the leader assumes the role of the employer, doctor, specialist, teacher at one end and that of the employee, patient, unskilled student at the other end. The altering (shifting) of roles as the discourse progresses pushes the leader to check the tempo, the length, and the use of address in his unmediated talk. Even when he produces a monologue, it comprises of questions and answers, attacks and counter attacks etc., that are implicitly interactional, based on his intro-interaction i.e. anticipating what the followers expect, what role he intends to play in the given circumstance etc., as the following excerpts from the texts show. In example 18, Fru Ndi, though quoting Archbishop Abel Muzorewa, engages in a question-and-answer session with himself. The answers represent his point of view and invoke a collective consciousness aimed at rallying the people or inciting them into taking action against the political system in place. Example 18 (Text A) Question Why are we afraid to talk about the doings of the government or head of state? Answer You would get thrown into prison, accused of treason, or simply disappear. In such states, political leaders do not trust their own people. They are tyrannical in the sense that they will not allow criticism.

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In intro-interaction, answers to the question asked may stretch out on several paragraphs and may include direct answers as well as critical explanations of the consequences or advantages of the issues raised in the question. In example 18, the consequences of talking “about the doings of the government” are many: imprisonment, treason charges, and death. The aspiring or opposition leader focuses only on the negative aspects because these push his point further. On the contrary, the incumbent leader rather presents the advantages of the issues raised in his question (19). Although the economy will become competitive, the programme, Biya says, would help the country regain growth and revive employment. Example 19 (Text B) Question But ¿rstly, what is the aim of this programme? Answers Basically, the aim of this programme is to restore the competitiveness of our economy both at the internal and external levels in order to enable our country regain growth which is an indispensable condition for reviving employment.

In example 20, Biya does not concentrate on the negative outcomes of conÀict, which is the main issue in the question, but rather on peace – the positive element he wants to highlight in his administration. Interestingly, the word ‘conÀict’ does not recur in the rest of the speech. The immediate answer rather makes use of ‘peace’, the opposite of ‘conÀict’. This selective strategy helps him direct not only the discourse but also listeners’ minds to his achievements and away from the conÀicts in Africa. Example 20 (Text B) Question Does Africa, which is already torn by many conÀicts, really need new disputes between brotherly countries? Answer Our continent needs peace for its development and Cameroon is not an exception. We will do everything within our power so that the work accomplished these past years in all ¿elds, is not jeopardized.

The political leader combines this intro-interaction strategy with other rhetorical patterns (allusions, digressions, innuendos) to intimate his position and to give a picture of a leader poised to tackle challenges other competitors in the

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leadership race shy away from or are not in a position to tackle. The aspiring leader in his launching speech (Text A) does the following: – regrets the absence of democracy and declares the day the most important in the struggle for democracy in Cameroon – de¿nes democracy, discrediting other dictatorial de¿nitions of it, and – alludes to Aristotle, Abraham Lincoln, Jorge Luis Borges; “Argentina’s great blind writer”, and Archbishop Abel Muzorewa. These elements sustain the strength of his inciting discourse. By alluding to these democracy icons he encourages his followers to believe that it could effectively be implemented in Cameroon. On the other hand, while assuming the role of educator, the incumbent leader employs emotive appeals like, paying tribute, giving compliments, Àattering and showering praises, as in the following excerpts: – I want to pay tribute to you, my fellow countrymen, for the courage with which you accepted and bore the sacri¿ces imposed on you. – You have …displayed a high sense of responsibility. – To you…my young compatriots, of urban and rural areas … display your many talents, your enterprising spirit, your dynamism and your patriotism … show proof of civic responsibility, patience and moderation. From the analysis of the different elements, i.e., membership, role play and the rhetorical elements brought in by the leaders, it is clear that the leaders blur the boundaries between themselves and their followers: between us and them, and by extension between asking rhetorical questions and taking positions. The fraternity of us is similar to a teacher’s participation in a class game when s/he plays the role of a teacher. Thus, the incumbent’s ‘I am… waiting that the administration further mobilizes itself and apply reforms that still appear necessary’ (9) aligns him with his fellow Cameroonians rather than the administration he leads. On the other hand, the aspiring leader takes on a role similar to that of a much-admired commander of a crack commando unit who urges his men to accomplish a great task ‘Today we call on you to yell for democracy… You can’t afford to get ignored. You must yell because if you are ignored, your children and your children’s children will get ignored tomorrow’ (10). The incumbent leader, playing the role of a teacher distances himself from the administration in much the same way that the commander distances himself from the ‘yelling’ he encourages his followers to do.

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157

Identity markers and multiple social roles

In differentiating between identity and social roles, one needs to stress that both are very heterogeneous. While social roles are linked to ‘‘a multitude of capacities or functions – occupational, domestic, and so forth’’ (Goffman 1974: 129), identity “is endlessly created anew, according to various social constraints (historical, institutional, economic, etc.), social interactions, encounters, and wishes that may happen to be very subjective and unique” (Tabouret-Keller (1998: 316). According to Mforteh (2006b), who focuses on a political context, the list of roles could be extended to include informing, instructing, teaching, inciting, and exhorting. Obviously, several roles could be ful¿lled in one text. Whereas the multiplicity of social roles is inherent in any type of real life discourse, the political dispatch is a genre characterised by intro-interactional social roles which oblige the leader to assume the status and activities of other professionals such as physician, economist, legal expert, statesman, and technocrat. The choice of the inclusive we, our pronouns and the exclusive you, your, those pronouns is relevant here because it enables the politicians to negotiate the identity they want to show at any given stage. The incumbent in Text B takes on the role of: i) an economist: he gives details of the economic recovery programme, which he refers to using the inclusive our pronoun. He explains how competition would lead to more jobs and economic stability and reduction of inÀation, etc. ii) a statesman or diplomat: he talks of ‘our relations with our foreign multilateral and bilateral partners’, makes reference to ‘friendly countries’, ‘brotherly countries’ in the diplomatically and politically correct code of behaviour. iii) a motivator: he encourages listeners to take personal initiatives in economic recovery and for collective efforts, e.g. ‘we can sight the end of the tunnel’ and ‘Let us therefore pool our energies, show proof of imagination and work harder’. The aspiring leader takes on the following roles: i) an educator: he teaches on democracy, draws listeners’ attention to other people’s views and gives a history of democracy: ‘And that you should know that the struggle for democracy is no easier today than it was in Greece 2,500 years ago’.

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ii) an instigator: he exposes the ills of the government and then calls on the listeners to ¿ght for their rights. He incites them, and to make the call stronger, he uses you – not as an exclusive strategy but rather for the sake of intensi¿cation. This strategy makes the listener feel the message as being directed at him or her as an individual, as in the examples: ‘You can’t afford to get ignored’, ‘You have nothing to lose but the straight jacket in which, you… have been cast.’ iii) a propagandist for change: he compares Africa to Europe and challenges listeners to rise and make Cameroon a free state. He makes allusions to other countries and the political challenges, as in: ‘They are tyrannical in the sense that they will not allow criticism.’, ‘And yet these same people whom they now oppress elected them.’ A common feature in the discourse of both leaders is the motivating role they play via their positive reference to posterity, with expressions like examples 21 and 22. Even though these two examples are on political issues and the economy, the two leaders exhibit positive attitudes towards the future. While Fru Ndi sees change as the solution, Paul Biya sees hard work, perseverance and faith in the leadership as the accepted means for attaining the set objective. Example 21 (Text A) Let us assure everyone here present that our own view of democracy is one where the people will retain their power to speak, to decide and act in the overall interest of their own society…We are searching ways and means to secure the future for the generations that will follow us. Example 22 (Text B) I am sure that we will overcome our present dif¿culties, and our people will fortify their faith in the future.

As members of the groups they lead, the incumbent and the aspiring leaders perform the above mentioned roles. When these roles are considered alongside the use of lexis, and the use of personal pronouns and adjectives, one can see the different leaders reveal identities that enhance their leadership positions. This suggests that whenever an individual leader participates in an episode or activity, a distinction can be drawn between what is called the person, individual, or player, namely, he who participates, and the particular role, capacity, or leadership function he realises during that participation. The clues available

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in these two texts selected for exempli¿cation, and in the bulk of speeches by political leaders in the last decade of the 20th century, clearly support the double articulation of identity.

6.

Conclusion

Role play is very important in political leadership discourse because in performing the multiple roles and functions that followers expect of them, political leaders do not only bring in their identity to bear on the followers but also see themselves as helping them to attain their goals. To attain these goals, the leaders assign active or participant roles to these followers. For instance, the opposition leader expects his followers to: “yell for democracy”; “to rid the Cameroonian society of a system that deprives it from being free men”; and to “stand up and be counted amongst those who share our democratic ideal”. Similarly, the incumbent leader wants his followers to: “redouble your efforts at work and to continue to show proof of civic responsibility, patience and moderation”; “to display your many talents, your enterprising spirit…dynamism and your patriotism” and also to “show proof of imagination and work harder”. From a sociolinguistic perspective, the main interest in this chapter was to ¿nd out how these roles are established and performed. The multiple roles (instigator, educator, statesman, etc.) discussed here relate to a leader’s membership category, the identi¿cation of self with the inner circle, and distancing from or closeness to the outer circle, here represented by party militants and the entire country. Given the multiplicity and complexity of roles and identities, role-enactment and identity construction in a given situation are highly dependent on several factors: political atmosphere, target audience, and aspirations of the speaker. All of these are represented in the discourse and are achieved discursively. Their textual realisations range in degree of explicitness, i.e. from clear instructions to hedges. While taking a vantage point through the discriminatory sense of I, we, us as used in the texts, leaders ¿nd it dif¿cult to keep their identity from intruding in their social roles, for instance, when they ask their followers, ‘you, they’ to ‘yell’ (Text A) or ‘to redouble [your] efforts’ (Text B).

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Appendix 1: Text A John Fru Ndi, founding Chairman of the SDF, the main opposition party since 1990. “Launching the Social Democratic Front, SDF at Liberty Square, Bamenda, May 26th 1990” Fellow Cameroonians, Today is the most signi¿cant day in the struggle for democracy in Cameroon. You are here in your numbers because you do not only have faith in democracy but more so because you are determined to ensure it works in Cameroon. Thank you for that faith and determination. Make no mistake and don’t allow yourself to be misled or misguided by anyone, no matter his station in life. Democracy has never been handed over to a people on a platter of gold! For long you have heard several meanings attributed to democracy. Some of these have tended to justify tyrannies, whether it is the tyranny of the minority. Whether we go back to Aristotle’s Athens or we remain in the present with Abraham Lincoln’s America, we ¿nd ourselves with a variable de¿nition. That democracy is about people and the laws that they enact to govern themselves. And that you should know that the struggle for democracy is no easier today than it was in Greece 2,500 years ago. In this context, we share the views of Archbishop Abel Muzorewa when he wondered aloud: “Why is it that we Africans can go to Britain (and I here add Europe) and the United States of America and be free to criticize their governments and heads of state without any fear of disappearing the following night or fear of being deported. Why are we afraid to talk about the doings of the government or head of state? You would get thrown into prison, accused of treason, or simply disappear. In such states, political leaders do not trust their own people. They are tyrannical in the sense that they will not allow criticism”. And yet these same people whom they now oppress elected them. We say that democracy is about people because we believe that non-observance of the fundamental freedoms, namely the freedom of conscience and religion, freedom of thought, belief, opinion and expression, including the freedom of the press and other media of communication, freedom of peaceful assembly and the freedom of association, the people cannot be expected to enjoy their basic rights which are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness as human beings. The fact that we have had to put a hard struggle to hold this rally is abundant evidence that we have a long way to go in achieving the democratic process. Today we call on you to yell for democracy. For as someone has rightly said, “unless people yell a lot, they get ignored” You can’t afford to get ignored. You must yell because if you are ignored, your children and your children’s children will get ignored tomorrow. Whether those who govern us accept it or not, we believe as others before us have believed and asserted, that the essence of democracy is about local people controlling their day-to-day affairs.

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Let us make this clear to all those who are hearing us today that, in the view of the SOCIAL DEMOCRATIC FRONT, the struggle will continue, not only here, but anywhere in the world, as long as there is someone who is governing and someone who is governed. This struggle can only stop when all the people participate in their own government. But what we see today is that African leaders have cultivated the tendency of using the vocabulary of democracy to conceal modern forms of dictatorship and oppression that we join battle with anyone; and we assure you today that we shall emerge victorious. The SDF has included democracy in its fervent belief and conviction that the absence of the democratic process in any society means the denial of justice and the retardation of development. Because where the people are not free to go about their daily chores without undue molestations, they can’t exhibit their skills and talents. As we have just pointed out, we have to eschew any form of dictatorship because in contrast to a true democracy where the people decide what is good for them, dictatorships produce the following results in the words of Argentina’s great blind writer, JORGE LUIS BORGES: “…oppression, servility, cruelty and more abominable is the fact that they breed stupidity.” We have to set as one of our goals to rid the Cameroonian society of a system that deprives it from being free men or otherwise punishing them for daring to think freely, associate freely, assemble peacefully and freely. Let us assure everyone here present that our own view of democracy is one where the people will retain their power to speak, to decide and act in the overall interest of their own society. We are searching ways and means to secure the future for the generations that will follow us. And therefore, “to be democratic is to disagree about what democracy is”. Finally, we call upon you to stand up and be counted amongst those who share our democratic ideal. You have nothing to lose but the straight jacket in which, you, as freeborn citizens have been cast. Long live the S.D.F. Long live Cameroon

Appendix 2: Text B President Paul Biya, founding President of the Cameroon Peoples’ Democratic Movement (CPDM) party since 1984 “Address to the Nation” (23rd March 1994) Fellow countrymen, The Executive Board of the International Monetary Fund has endorsed our economic recovery programme and has decided to back it ¿nancially. This is an important event worthy of all our attention. Important, because it commits the future of our country. Important, because it will henceforth orientate, to a certain extent, our relations with our

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foreign multilateral and bilateral partners. At this juncture, and without further delay, I want to thank those friendly countries which stood by us during this dif¿cult period and without whose assistance we would not have made it. But ¿rstly, what is the aim of this programme? Basically, the aim of this programme is to restore the competitiveness of our economy both at the internal and external levels in order to enable our country regain growth which is an indispensable condition for reviving employment. This third “stand-by arrangement”, covering an 18 month period beginning 1 January 1994, should give us access to external ¿nancing worth some fourteen hundred thousand million CFA francs that would make us cope with our immediate needs and reduce our debt burden. If the present trend continues, new facilities could be granted to us on even softer terms over a longer period of time. This attitude of the international ¿nancial community is a clear testimony to the con¿dence it has in our country, and it is recognition of the efforts that you have made. I wish to thank it heartily on your behalf. On my part, I want to pay tribute to you, my fellow countrymen, for the courage with which you accepted and bore the sacri¿ces imposed on you. You have, under dif¿cult circumstances, displayed a high sense of responsibility. These sacri¿ces, as you can see today, have not been in vain. We are therefore on the right path; but we must not relent in our efforts. I am waiting that the administration further mobilizes itself and apply reforms that still appear necessary. To you, Cameroonian women and men, businessmen, industrialists, farmers and workers of rural areas, entrepreneurs of all sectors, I am asking you again to redouble your efforts at work and to continue to show proof of civic responsibility, patience and moderation. To you in particular, my young compatriots, of urban and rural areas, I am asking you today, more than ever before, to display your many talents, your enterprising spirit, your dynamism and your patriotism. If we succeed in maintaining the inÀation – which was inevitable following the devaluation of the CFA franc – at a reasonable level, our chances of coming out of the crisis will be good and our future promising. It should in fact be understood that no matter the assistance we will receive from our foreign friends and partners, the success of our recovery programme depends ¿rst and foremost on ourselves. Let us take a look around us. All countries, great or small, rich or poor, are facing dif¿culties and are according priority – which is normal – to their own needs. Development recipes that have been in existence since independence are today outdated. Henceforth, and more than in the past, we must focus on internal reconstruction tasks by relying above all on ourselves. Undoubtedly therefore, Cameroon cannot let herself to be lured by external adventures. While it will never be a question of giving up the slightest morsel of our sovereignty, our attitude remains one of moderation and conciliation. Does Africa, which is already torn by many conÀicts, really need new disputes between brotherly countries? Our continent needs peace for its development and Cameroon is not an exception. We will do everything within our power so that the work accomplished these past years in all ¿elds, is not jeopardized. Certainly, a great deal remains to be done, in order to reach the goal, but we can sight the end of the tunnel. Let us therefore pool our energies, show proof of imagination and work harder.

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At this price, I am sure that we will overcome our present dif¿culties, and our people will fortify their faith in the future. Long live Cameroon!

References Antaki, Charles and Sue Widdicombe (eds.) 1998 Identities in Talk. London: Sage. Antaki, Charles and Sue Widdicombe 1998 Identity as an achievement and as a tool. In: Antaki, Charles and Sue Widdicombe (eds.), pp. 1 – 14. Drew, Paul and Marja-Leena Sorjonen 1997 Institutional discourse. In: van Dijk, Teun A. (ed.), Discourse Studies: A Multidisciplinary Introduction, vol. 2: Discourse As Social Interaction. London: Sage. 92 – 118. Goffman, Erving 1974 Frame Analysis. New York: Harper. Greatbatch, David 1988 A turn-taking system for British news interviews. Language in Society 17: 401 – 430. Greatbatch, David and Robert Dingwall 1998 Talk and identity in divorce mediation. In: Antaki, Charles and Sue Widdicombe (eds.), pp. 121 – 132. Heritage, John 1985 Analyzing news interviews: Aspects of the production of talk for an overhearing audience. In: van Dijk, Teun A. (ed.), Handbook of Discourse Analysis, vol. 3. New York: Academic Press. 95 – 119. Heritage, John 1998 Conversation analysis and talk: Analyzing distinctive turn-taking systems. In: Cmejrkova, S., J. Hofmanova, O. Mullerova, and J. Svetla, (eds.), Dialogue Analysis VI. Tübingen: Niemeyer. 3 – 17. Heritage, John and David Greatbatch 1991 On the institutional character of institutional talk: The case of news interviews. In: Boden, Dierdre and Don H. Zimmerman (eds.), Talk and Social Structure. Berkeley: University of California Press. 93 – 137. Labov, William and David Fanshel 1977 Therapeutic Discourse. London: Academic Press. Mforteh, Stephen A. 2006a The language of leadership in contemporary Cameroon. Unpublished Doctorat d’Etat Thesis, University of Yaoundé 1.

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Mforteh, Stephen A. 2006b The vision of a new Cameroon: Linguistic signals of leadership in the closing decade of the 20th Century. In: Mbangwana, Paul, Kizitus Mpoche and Tennu Mbuh (eds.), Language, Literature and Identity. Gottingen: Cuvillier Verlag. Pavlenko, Aneta and Adrian Blackledge (eds.) 2004 Negotiation of Identity in Multilingual Contexts. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Sacks, Harvey 1995 Lectures on Conversation. Oxford: Blackwell. Schegloff, Emanuel A. 1991 ReÀections on talk and social structure. Boden, Dierdre and Don H. Zimmerman (eds.), Talk and Social Structure. Berkeley: University of California Press. 44 – 70. Schegloff, Emanuel A. 1992 In another context. In: Duranti, Alessandro and Charles Goodwin (eds.), Rethinking Context: Language as an Interactive Phenomenon. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 193 – 227. Tabouret-Keller, Andrée 1998 Language and identity. In: Coulmas, Florian (ed.) Handbook of Sociolinguistics. Oxford: Blackwell. 315 – 326. Weizman, Elda 2006 Roles and identities in news interviews: The Israeli context. Journal of Pragmatics 38: 154 – 179.

Part III. Translating the postcolonial: Religion and lexicography

Chapter 8 Contesting the sacred in Tamil: Missionary translations and Protestant scriptures in colonial South India* Hephzibah Israel

1.

Introduction

When Protestant missionaries ¿rst arrived in India in 1706, their primary focus was on translating the Bible for potential converts. This meant that they had to both acquaint themselves with the language cultures of the people they were proselytising and negotiate with the religious vocabularies that circulated amongst them. In some instances, they were unprepared for either the linguistic sophistication of the religious terms or the variety of scriptural traditions that already existed in early colonial India. As part of their polemical engagement with Hindu traditions, Protestant missionaries translated both the Bible and Hindu sacred literatures, using particular translation methods and linguistic strategies to convey the supposed superiority and ‘rational’ truths of the former over the latter. This chapter examines how in the colonial context, the missionary agency of Protestant Christianity used translation and language choice as a cultural tool with which to ascribe to the Bible superior truth status to rival existing scriptural traditions. Further, the chapter analyses how and why Protestant missionaries used existing sacred registers of the Tamil language to promote Protestant Christianity as the only ‘true’ religion and the Bible as the only divinely revealed scriptures.

* Some material from this chapter has been reproduced with permission of Palgrave Macmillan from Israel (2011) Religious Transactions in Colonial South India: Language, Translation and the Making of Protestant Identity PalgraveMacmillan.

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2.

Identifying the sacred: Labelling as scripture

Signi¿cantly, Protestant missionaries were ill-equipped to deal with either the conceptual differences and the plurality of texts designated as sacred in Indian religious cultures or the existing relationship between these sacred texts and their communities. Firmly rooted within Protestant models of conceptualising the relationship between scripture and the individual believer, they looked for a single corpus of writings which were believed by Hindu communities to be divine revelations presenting an authoritative spiritual guide for all believers. Instead, Protestant missionaries found competing bodies of sacred literature that apparently lacked the single authoritative divine voice that they thought was fundamental to any religion. As a result, one of the polemic strategies of Protestant missionaries was to draw several contrasts between the Hindu texts and the Protestant Bible producing a proli¿c output of polemical works that sought to prove the inherent superiority of Protestant Christianity over other existing religious traditions in South India. In colonial South India, Tamil was one such Indian language that possessed a sophisticated variety of devotional literature and intricate and ¿nely differentiated sets of religious vocabulary. There existed both Sanskritic texts translated into Tamil as well as what are known as the Tamil Vedas1. Confronted by this array of sacred texts, the missionaries developed some cultural and ideological strategies which are manifested best in their translation policies and in the kind of religious terminology that they adopted for Protestant use. First, Protestant missionaries used Christian models to redraw what they thought was the ‘proper’ relationship between sacred scriptures and individual believers. One aspect of this ‘proper’ relationship which the missionaries emphasized repeatedly was that divine revelation be made available equally to all members of the community. In contrast to existing cultural practices that limited access to Hindu scriptures to a select few, Protestant missionaries used translation as an occasion to make the point that the Bible was freely available to all. Further, they put forward the argument that since Protestant scriptures could be made available universally through translation, the very fact that its essential tenets could transcend linguistic barriers and cross cultural differences was proof that the Bible was the real truth as opposed to the false scriptures of the other religious communities. Second, a linked discursive strategy was the introduction of Protestant reading practices into the literary culture of South Asia and the application of these 1. Devotional poems to ViԕԜu written by mystic poets (the alvars) between the seventh to the tenth centuries. See note 12 for details.

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same to non-Protestant scriptures. Thus, in order to prepare the ground for the acceptance of the translated Bible, it was introduced to its Indian audience within the rhetorical discourse of ‘true’ and ‘false’ scriptures. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, missionary literature and religious tracts were published in each Indian language the Bible was translated into in a bid to draw contrasts between Biblical and Hindu and Islamic scriptures.2 Often distributed as bazaar books, these nineteenth-century tracts consistently referred to the Vedas as ‘your scriptures,’ while the Bible, or the Christ-VƝtam, was ‘the true scriptures’. A series of contrasts were presented between the claims made by the “true” scriptures and the “false”: the false contained nothing but superstitions, fables and impure stories that the missionaries claimed were too embarrassing to quote, while the true scriptures told its readers of historical facts and truths about God and His relationship with the human world. While the Hindu and Muslim scriptures were man-made, the Christian ones were God-given; hence, the Vedas were useless – they were available only to a select section of society; were written in dif¿cult verse so that the common people could neither read nor comprehend them; and so they led readers to unending doubt. The Bible, in contrast, was in language easily understood, could be read by anybody, translated into any language in the world and had travelled to all the nations (God 1901: 22). Using contrasting sets of literary images and tropes effectively, Hindu scriptures were compared to a forest in which one could get lost, to poison, to a disease and a false light. In contrast, the Christian scriptures showed the way to human salvation, were a life-giving potion, a healing medicine, and were compared to the light of a home. By setting up this contrast, they hoped to contain rival scriptural traditions by suggesting that their content, inaccessibility and plurality rendered them inadequate. However, such claims were in reality hard to sustain given that the translators had to work within the conceptual framework of pre-existing sacred registers of the Tamil language. As this essay demonstrates, when Protestant missionaries translated the Bible they stretched existing sacred registers of 2. Tracts with titles such as TƝyvam (God, 1901), ‘The Names of God’ (1897), ‘CƗstiram’ (1897), ‘The Koran’ (1893), ‘Integrity of the Gospel’ (1893), ‘Fatiha’ (1893) ‘The Koran’ (1897), ‘The Guru’ (1896), ‘Mantiram’ (1896) and so on sought to prove the superior and infallible nature of the Bible over all Hindu scriptures (the Vedas, the Gita, the Puranas and the Tamil TƝvƗram) and the Qur’an. These tracts, published as part of the ‘Bazaar Book Series,’ presented the contrast between Christianity on the one hand, and Hinduism and Islam on the other, examining and refuting the tenets of the respective religions point-by-point. As a result, Hindus were mobilized into forming parallel tract societies to combat the onslaught of Protestant tracts with counter-Protestant tracts of their own.

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the Tamil language to promote it as the only divinely revealed scriptures. This sharing of sacred linguistic registers undermined missionary efforts to differentiate the Bible from rival scriptures.

3.

Identifying the sacred: Naming the Bible

Of the many strategies employed by Protestant missionaries, this essay focuses on their decision to borrow central conceptual terms from titles of Hindu scriptures to denote the Bible. Finding the appropriate title for the Bible in Tamil was a pressing requirement since the Bible had to compete with existing religious scriptures available in Tamil society. This choice was inÀuenced by the desire to suggest that the Bible was superior because it was the only scripture that contained absolute and veri¿able Truth, and that it presented a factual history of humankind as opposed to the supposed fables and myths of the other religions. Yet, it was important that readers recognise the text as scripture, as a result, the title had also to be familiar enough to suggest its sacred contents. By using titles that were already familiar to their audience, Protestant missionaries hoped to convey not just that the Bible was equal to their scriptures but that is was superior to them. Thus, the missionary translators borrowed and used existing scripture titles to insert the translated Bible into the cultural and linguistic space already occupied by a sophisticated variety of sacred texts. 3.1.

Titles for the Tamil Bible

To translate the term ‘Bible’ the Protestant translators relied mostly on the two main terms connected with Hindu scriptures: vƝtam and Ɨkamam. VƝtam is the Tamil form of the Sanskrit term Veda (for transmitted knowledge or wisdom). Derived from the Sanskrit root vid meaning to see or perceive, it is a comprehensive term for authoritative and sacred Hindu literature. The ƗkamaφkaΣ (plural of Ɨkamam above) are considered sacred literature by Tamil ĝaivites, making this an important term in Tamil sacred vocabulary. An obvious alternative available to the translators was the Sanskrit term ĞƗstra, derived from the root ‘ĞƗs’ which means ‘to inform’ or ‘instruct.’ Apart from its meaning as authoritative religious text, it also refers to law and science – for instance, medicine, astronomy or geometry – in general. Though ĞƗstra does not occur in any Tamil titles for the Bible it forms a prominent part of the compound term used to designate the Hindi and Marathi Bibles. The title of the Hindi Bible is dharma-ĞƗstra, a term usually used to refer to religious and civic (especially

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Hindu) law. The Marathi title is pavitra ĞƗstra, where pavitra means ‘holy’ (or ‘pure’). For the Tamil Bible, however, compounds that included the terms vƝtam and Ɨkamam in different combinations were developed. A look at the way Protestant missionaries de¿ned these terms clari¿es why these were thought suitable for the Bible. Johann Philipp Fabricius (1711 – 1791), an eighteenth-century German Pietist missionary in South India, de¿ned vƝtam as “a system of a religious doctrine; a religion” and did not mention the four Hindu Vedas at all in his Tamil dictionary, Dictionary of the English and Malabar Languages (1786). However, he de¿ned the next entry, vƝtapusttakam, as “the book wherein the law of religion is revealed, the holy bible.” Similarly, Ɨkamam, according to him, referred in general terms to, “a law-book, a book of morals”. He made no indication of the existence of the body of ĝaivite literature which was termed Ɨkamam.3 By disassociating the term ‘vƝtam’ from the Hindu Vedas, Fabricius’s dictionary gave the misleading impression that the Bible was the only book or vƝta where the “law of religion was revealed.” Winslow’s (1862) and Rottler’s (1834) dictionary entries in the nineteenth century were more accurate. For instance, VƝtam, according to Rottler was “the generic term for the books, or writings, deemed sacred by the Hindus: said to have been delivered by Brahma, but compiled from tradition by Vyasa.” He followed this with the names of the four Vedas and brief descriptions of what they contained. He also mentioned vƝtapusttakam or pusttakam as a term of “Christian usage, the Bible.” By entering such compound terms as speci¿cally Christian, Rottler highlighted and formalised the difference in language use between Protestants and Hindus. In contrast to later Protestant usage, Catholic missionaries in South India, who did not translate the Bible, used the term vƝta quite differently. De Nobili (d. 1656) a Jesuit missionary in South India, for instance, had used the term in the seventeenth century to refer to religion rather than to scripture. Hence, his term for Christianity was tƝva vƝtam (divine religion). Since vƝtam referred both to a system of religion and a religious book, it was considered a general term that was safe to use as part of the title for the Tamil Bible. The ¿rst title for the complete Tamil New Testament was VƝtappoΙttakam (1714 – 1715), that is, a compound from the terms vƝtam and pustakam [book]. When the four Gospels and Acts were printed in 1714 as the ¿rst instalment of this New Testament, they were titled AñcuvƝtapoΙttakam, literally, ‘the book of 3. In contrast, the Tamil Lexicon de¿nes Ɨkamam not only as ‘sastras’ and scripture but as “scripture believed to be revealed by God and peculiar to ĝaivism, VaiĞnavism, Saktism or Jainism.”

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the ¿ve Vedas.’ The addition of ‘poΙttakam4’ may have been an effort to translate the Greek biblios, as well as to signal difference from the other four existing Hindu Vedas. The title VƝtappustakam was in use among Tamil Protestants until the early nineteenth century. Later in the century, the Tamil title for the Bible was VƝtaputtakam (1850) and the title of the Union Version (1871) was changed to Cattiya VƝtam (true Veda). This title indicated that the book was scripture similar to the Vedas, and more so, that it was the authentic Veda. Such usage was not without criticism from contemporary Indians. Arumuka Navalar (1822 – 1879), a nineteenthcentury Tamil ĝaivite scholar, who had helped in translating a draft version of the Bible into Tamil, had objected to the use of Veda for the Bible as the term referred exclusively to the four Vedas.5 Navalar thought it was inappropriate to use the term for any other sacred writing. The Bible Society committee in charge of the translation had overruled him and justi¿ed their choice on the grounds that the pre¿x indicated the difference between the two scriptures. Signi¿cantly, that pre¿x also indicated the difference as one between truth and falsehood. The use of the term vƝtam, which refers to scriptural parallels in other religious traditions, might have created confusion or misunderstanding for Protestant Tamils. On the contrary, the use of vƝtam was a success amongst Protestant Tamil converts. This success can be attributed to the shift in the relationship between Protestant Tamils and scripture. Protestant Tamils, many of whom were from lower caste Hindu social backgrounds, had had no access to the Hindu Vedas. Unlike other religious concepts or practices, where Protestant converts were required to make adjustments in understanding, attitudes and practice, the concept of the Bible as Veda did not represent a radical change. Since the Bible was the ¿rst sacred text they were actively encouraged to read and comprehend, it was easier for them to accept it as scripture or vƝtam. With added pre¿xes that denoted its holy and truth status, there was little dif¿culty in the assimilation of this title of the Bible for Protestant Tamils. In the Tamil title of the Revised Version (1956), the Tamilised forms of the Sanskrit terms vƝtam and Ɨkamam (representing two kinds of Hindu scriptures, the Sanskritic and the Tamil) were both used. The terms when combined formed VƝtƗkamam in Tamil, as if to suggest that the Bible encompassed the scope of the VƝtƗs and ƖkamƗs and its contents could replace both. The full title 4. Bartholomäus Ziegenbalg (1682 – 1719), the translator of this version misspelt this term. The correct transliterated spelling in Tamil is VƝtappustakam or pustakam. 5. See Sarojini Packiamuttu’s Viviliyamum Tamilum [The Bible and Tamil] (1990) for more details.

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of the Revised Version was Paricutta VƝtƗkamam, where the term paricutta (of high purity) reiterated its holy character. Although the Revised Version was not popular, twentieth-century reprints of the Union Version adopted its title. Thus, present editions of the Union Version are titled Paricutta VƝtƗkamam. The 1995 Tamil version, however, in keeping with its agenda to avoid Sanskrit terms,6 developed Tiruviviliyam (holy book) as a title for the Bible. The decision to transliterate the Greek biblios as the Tamil viviliyam, in conjunction with tiru (holy), resulted in the title Tiruviviliyam for the Bible, which was not very familiar to Tamils, whether Protestant or non-Protestant. The Madras University Tamil Lexicon (1924), however, has entered viviliya-nnjl (literally, book-book, where nnjl explains that the transliterated viviliya means a book) for the Bible but has no separate entry for vƝtƗkamam or vƝtappoΙttakam as terms in Christian usage. The term viviliyannjl was ¿rst used as an of¿cial subtitle for the Bible by the Revised Version. An alternative that the translators could have used was the Tamil term tirumaθai (holy book), which though in use amongst some Protestant Tamil theologians,7 was rejected as a title for the Bible on etymological grounds. The term maθai means ‘that which is secret or hidden’ and is a Tamil term for the ĝaivite sacred texts and the Vedas. Unwilling to convey the impression that the message of the Bible was concealed and available only to a select few, in the way Hindu scriptures were traditionally understood to be, the translation committee rejected this term. Perhaps the decision to use ‘Tiruviviliyam’ also arose from a desire to stop the competitive comparison of the Bible with Hindu scriptures. For instance, Thomas Thangaraj (1999), a Protestant Tamil theologian, supports the use of viviliyam because the “Vedas do refer to the Hindu Vedas and, therefore, if one respects the integrity of the Hindu religious tradition, one should refrain from using Veda for the Bible” (Thangaraj 1999: 141). He further comments that the use of viviliyam ¿ts well with the growing concern among biblical scholars in India to engage in Biblical hermeneutics in a multi-scriptural context. In this situation, one needs to af¿rm the particularity of each scripture, and using the word viviliyam af¿rms the uniqueness of Christian Scriptures while respecting the integrity of the Hindu scriptural tradition (Thangaraj 1999: 142). 6. The translators of this version, both Protestant and Catholic Tamil converts, were heavily inÀuenced by the Pure Tamil Movement, a political movement in Tamilnad that sought to remove all Sanskrit terms from the Tamil language in order to arrive at a ‘pure’ Tamil. This movement was at its height from the 1930s to the 1970s but continues to inform public and political discourses in Tamilnad 7. This term was used by Tamil theologians and at seminaries (such as Tamil Theological Seminary) in the 1970s as a useful Tamil term that avoided Sanskrit roots.

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In any case, while most of the previous titles had presented the Bible in familiar, universal terms, the twentieth-century title had an alienating effect, identifying the Bible as the book of a speci¿c religious system. Interestingly, there exists a poetical version of the ¿rst two books of the Old Testament in Tamil (1866) published in Sri Lanka for which the title is taken from another body of Hindu texts altogether. The main title, tiruvƗkkuppurƗΧam (very loosely translated, a history of holy words) combines three terms: tiru (holy), vƗkku (word or speech) and purƗΧam (history). The signi¿cant change in the title is the use of the term purƗΧam instead of the standard nineteenthcentury usage of vƝtam. PurƗΧam or the Puranas (in Sanskrit) literally means ‘stories of old.’ These are Hindu texts written mainly in verse form that contain legendary and mythological versions of history and of the creation and destruction of the universe. There are eighteen chief Puranas that go back to Vedic times. The Puranas are given sacred status by the Hindus although most Hindus would acknowledge that Puranic texts are sacred in ways different to that of the Vedas. In the Tamil context, the Civa-purƗΧam, in particular, enjoys high sacred and ritual status amongst ĝaivites. Did the translators use the term purƗΧam because they realised that in the Sri Lankan context, most Protestant Tamils converted from the Tamil ĝaivite Vellala caste and would have held the Civa-purƗΧam as their most sacred text? It would seem that this is a rare translation effort in that it attempted to approximate target-language scriptures at several levels. This version is the only nineteenth-century version in Tamil verse rather than prose, where it follows Tamil verse forms and poetic structures unlike all other translations that resemble the Western format for the Bible. It also begins with songs in praise of the Protestant Father, Son and Holy Spirit in the style of songs invoking the blessing of the gods at the beginning of Hindu texts. However, perhaps for these very reasons this version was not widely distributed as one of the standard or approved translations by the British and Foreign Bible Society in South India and Sri Lanka. 3.2.

Sub-titles for the Tamil Bible

The early translations of the Bible also had descriptive sub-titles that indicated the sacred subject of the book to the target reader. Ziegenbalg (1714 – 1715) gave very elaborate subtitles to his translations informing the reader in detail of what to expect. For instance, the title page of his AñcuvƝtapoΙttakam (Gospels and Acts, 1714) summarised the contents of the ¿ve books, beginning with cutaϝƗkiya caθuvƝcuraϝƗyirukkiθa yƝcukkiθiΙttu nƗtarƗϝavar inta pnjlǀkattil maϝuΙaϝƗyp piθantta viceΙaφkaΣaiyum, that is, “[it is a book that reveals] the news of the birth of the Lord Jesus Christ, who is also Son and God, into this

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world as man” (my translation). His titles for each part of the Old Testament (published in six parts between 1714 and 1728) were equally descriptive of the nature and abilities of an all-powerful God. He also indicated the sacred nature of the published book by adding that the book contained knowledge, which Moses had heard directly from the holy mouth of God (mǀce yeϝkiθavar caθuvƝcuraϝuΛaiya tiru vƗyile niϝΛθu kƝΛΛa nƗyaφkaΣ). Such sub-titles attempt to establish the sacred content of the subject as well as the authority of the authors, both divine and human. These descriptive titles signal the entry of a new text into Tamil culture by introducing a new set of sacred objects: a new God, a new set of religious tenets, and, importantly, a contextualising framework within which the translation was to be read.Similarly, the title page of an edition published in 1847 combining the Old Testament (1776) translated by Johann Phillip Fabricius (1711 – 1791) and the New Testament (1833) by Charles T. Rhenius (1790 – 1837) had the following title: cattiyavƝtam: itile maϝitar iraΛccikkapaΛumpaΛikkƗka caθvalǀka tayƗpararƗna kaΛavuΣ aruΣiceyta paζaiya yƝrpaΛum putiya yƝrpƗΛum. In English this translates to: “The true Vedam: in it are the Old and New Testaments given by the grace of God who is the benefactor of the whole world, for the salvation of mankind” (my translation). The title page of the New Testament of the Union Version, (1880 edition) was similarly descriptive: ‘karttarum ulaka iraΛccakarumƗkiya iyƝcu kiristuvƗϝavar aruΣiceyta putiya yƝrpƗΛu’ (The New Testament given by the grace of Jesus Christ, Lord and Saviour of the world). The recurrence of ‘world’ or the ‘whole world’ in the sub-titles emphasizes the supposed universal nature of the biblical message. An inclusive title such as this invited interest by emphasizing that the sacred contents of these books were meant for all, thus highlighting the text’s universal availability. It could be argued that long and descriptive titles were the norm in print culture until the beginning of the twentieth century and that the translators of the Tamil Bibles merely followed that practice. However, the corresponding English title pages for the same nineteenth-century editions were brief. The English title page of the 1847 edition mentioned above was: “The Holy Bible in Tamil: The Old Testament translated from the original by Rev. J.P. Fabricius; The New Testament by the Rev. C.T.E. Rhenius.” This difference between the Tamil and English subtitles indicates that the Tamil sub-titles had a speci¿c purpose: they were used to emphasize the superiority as well as the universal character of both the translated scripture and the God it professed. Further, by omitting the names of Fabricius and Rhenius in the Tamil subtitle, the implication is that these were scriptures given directly by god with no human interventions in the form of translators.

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The title pages of twentieth-century versions and editions of older translations, however, were brief, in comparison. Although the shift to shorter titles in twentieth-century print occurred generally it can also be argued that the Tamil Bible, now increasingly familiar as one of the religious texts available in Tamil society, had no further need to advertise its sacred contents through elaborate titles. Twentieth-century sub-titles usually pointed to its translated nature, that it was a work translated from the original Hebrew and Greek languages. There is an important addition to the title of the Tiruviviliyam: its subtitle, potu moζipeyarppu, (that is, common translation) draws attention to the use of Tamil “common” to all as one of the main aims of the version. This emphasis on the register of the target Tamil language used is signi¿cantly different from previous emphases on the subject or sacred message of the translated Bible. Importantly, these twentieth-century translations, by calling attention to the translated aspect of the Bible, no longer presented it as a direct message from God but as one which had been interpreted by human translators and mediated through language. 3.3.

The books of the Bible

The terms used to translate the titles of several books of the Bible also reveal the translators’ desire to monitor the interpretation of their contents. Ziegenbalg (1724 – 1728)8 and Fabricius (1776) used the term Ɨkamam in some titles of individual books of the Old Testament. The books of the Pentateuch in the Old Testament, for instance, were titled the ‘Ɨkamam’ and were numbered as the ¿rst or second Ɨkamam. This continued to be the practice until the translators of the Union Version attempted to translate the titles and to add the term Ɨkamam to them. So its ¿rst book was titled ƗtiyƗkamam, for instance, suggesting not only that it was the ¿rst book but perhaps also that it was the book (Ɨkamam) of beginnings (‘Ɨti’). The rest of the books of the Pentateuch were named: yƗttirƗkamam (the book of the journey), lƝviyarƗkamam (the book of the Levites), eΧΧƗkamam (the book of numbers), and ubƗkamam (book of Deuteronomy; originally, secondary ĝaivite Ɨkamas, said to be 207 in number). The Books of the Chronicles were similarly entitled naζƗkamam,, where nƗζ refers to ‘time’ or ‘days’. 8. Ziegenbalg was not able to complete his translation of the Old Testament. He was able to translate only until the Book of Ruth. Benjamin Schultze (1689 – 1760), a Lutheran missionary who arrived in Transquebar after Ziegenbalg’s death translated the rest of the books. This Tamil Old Testament was ¿rst published between 1724 and 1728.

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By using the same terms that denoted an important body of Hindu Tamil sacred literature, Protestant translators were claiming equal status for the Bible in Tamil culture. In contrast, the translators of the Tiruviviliyam made a point of avoiding Ɨkamam in preference for Tamil terms and gave titles that mainly translated meanings of the originals. For instance, the ¿rst ¿ve books of the Old Testament were titled: toΛakannjl (the ¿rst book or book of beginnings), viΛutalai payaΧam (journey of liberation), lƝviyar (the Levites), yeΧΧikkai (numbers) and iΧai caΛΛam (law). These titles did not merely replace Sanskrit with Tamil terms but encouraged a different reading. For instance, the translation of Exodus as ‘Journey of liberation’ points to the political leanings of Protestant and Catholic translators toward Liberation Theology,9 which has inÀuenced postcolonial Protestant Tamil theology in the second half of the twentieth century. With regard to other books of the Old Testament, the Bible translators also used titles to discipline the reading of certain books. Fabricius used an elaborate title for the Psalms derived from Sanskrit roots: nƗϝa caφkƯtaφkaΣiϝ pustakam [the book of wisdom songs]. He probably added the term ñƗϝa (wisdom) to suggest that they were different from songs of other religious traditions and secular songs. Later, this was shortened to caφkƯtaφkaΣ (songs) in the Union Version. The Tiruviviliyam, in keeping with its emphasis on Tamil terms, titled the book tirupƗΛalkaΣ (holy songs). One Old Testament book that needed particular attention was the Song of Solomon. Ziegenbalg (1724 – 1728) translated the title with adjectives such as makƗ uϝϝitamƗϝa (of an exceedingly elevated nature), suggesting that the songs were of an irreproachable nature. Likewise, the Union Version used uϝϝata pƗΛΛu (songs of an elevated nature) suggesting that the contents of the book were of a high moral standing. Both makƗ and uϝϝata being Sanskrit terms added further stature to the titles. Such a signalling may have been used to differentiate Biblical sacred poetry from both the considerable body of secular love poetry that forms classical Tamil literature and the Bhakti tradition of devotional songs10. Having labelled Tamil poetry in general as immorally sensual and effeminate, the missionary translators had to distinguish it from similar erotic poetry in the Bible.

9. Liberation Theology began as a movement within the Latin American Catholic Church in the 1960s as a response to social oppression. Deriving from Marxism, it now includes Latin American, Black and Feminist liberation theologies that seek to radically reinterpret Christian scripture and orthodox theologies with a view to a revolutionary transformation of society. 10. A large and heterogeneous corpus of devotional poetry written by Tamil ĝaivite and VaiԕԜavite poet-saints from the sixth century onwards.

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In contrast, the translators of the Tiruviviliyam have used iϝimai miku pƗΛal (songs of pleasure or delight), Tamil terms which do not veil the genre of the book, that is, a collection of love songs. However, in the introduction to the book, the translators clarify that the accepted interpretation was that these songs of love were an allegory for God’s love for his people and Christ’s for his Church.11 Thus, this translation continues to channel the reader’s interpretation towards a more accepted direction.

4.

Comparisons and conclusions

European missionary designation of non-Christian religions and religious practices as ‘heathenish’ and demoniac determined the kind of language choices they made to translate Protestant Christianity in colonial South India. Selective appropriation of linguistic terms offered them the possibility of entering a highly competitive Tamil religious culture. However, rivalry between religions expressed through conÀict over language use was not peculiar to Protestant Christianity’s entry in eighteenth-century South India. In the multi-religious and sectarian context of Tamil society there has been a long history of antagonism between different religions, for instance, between Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism; and between sects within one religion, such as the intense rivalry between the ĝaivite and VaiԕԜavite sects of Hinduism. Incorporation and appropriation between these traditions were not benevolent gestures but were annihilative moves. In a discussion on the manifestation of sectarian tension, Viswanathan (1998) cites Dehejia’s (1997) illustration through a study of Tamil religious art that the patterns of appropriating and borrowing of VaiԕԜavite features in ĝaivite art dispute the assumption that contention between two religious communities will lead to the total destruction of features of the rival religious system (Viswanathan 1998: 154). Instead, requisitioning the art forms of a competing religious system, if successful, could lead to a greater appropriation of the rival faith. Such appropriations had occurred between two other Hindu scriptural traditions, the Sanskrit Vedas and Tamil VaiԕԜavite devotional literature. Thus, the VaiԕԜavite TiruvƗymoζi12 is also known as the ‘Tamil Veda.’ Carman and 11. In comparison, the Hindi Bible uses shresth git (songs of excellence) as a title but the Urdu translation for the same is Ghazal-ul-Ghazalaat (where ghazal refers to a song of an amorous nature). 12. Devotional poems to ViԕԜu written by NammƗ԰vƗr, a poet-saint who lived between the eighth and ninth centuries C.E. Tamil VaiԕԜavites consider it primarily, and

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Narayanan (1989) have argued that the TiruvƗymoζi was unique for its claim of equal status with the Sanskrit Vedas and in its bringing together of Sanskrit and Tamil cultural traditions and religious literatures. They further argue that “the acceptance of the Veda or of a substitute is an important characteristic of the Hindu tradition as a whole and that calling the TiruvƗymo԰i a Veda ¿ts into this accepted pattern (Carman and Naryanan 1989: 4). As they point out, the TiruvƗymoζi is signi¿cantly not a translation of the Sanskrit Vedas but original devotional poems written in praise of ViԕԜu. In this context, the appropriation of the term vƝtam for the Bible by the Protestant missionary project is not entirely novel. However, unlike the VaiԕԜavite tradition that was according to one reading a “Àowing together of the Sanskrit and Tamil traditions of devotion to ViԕԜu as the supreme Lord” (Carman and Naryanan 1989: xi) Protestant mission meant to differentiate Christianity from Hindu traditions. Hence, the missionary project of translating Protestant Christianity faced a paradoxical situation. On the one hand, its dominant concern was to introduce Protestant Christianity as a unique religious system possessing a higher truth that would eventually lead to the collapse of other religious faiths in South India. On the other hand, Protestant Christianity could only be effectively communicated through the existing registers of religious language in use. Confronted with a sophisticated and elaborate Tamil religious vocabulary and scriptural traditions, Protestant translators were most wary of terms such as vƝtam that conveyed concepts similar to Protestant Christianity. Their main concern was that perceived parity between Protestant Christianity and other religious systems should not lead to either confusion or dilution of the Protestant message. This meant that although the same terms were used to de¿ne Protestant scriptures, the translators wanted to replace or extend old meanings with new Protestant connotations. As the discussion above indicates, the use of terms such as vƝtam and Ɨkamam were efforts to appropriate the sacred value attached to the Vedas and Tamil ĝaivite and VaiԕԜavite scriptures. Although eager to appropriate this generic value of the term vƝtam, the eighteenth and nineteenth century translators were keen to erase any reference to speci¿c Hindu texts. They did so by adding pre¿xes to these terms, by which they hoped to indicate that the Bible was truer, holier and superior in all respects to rival religious scriptures. Such translation decisions reveal the strained nature of the linguistic strategies employed by missionary translators since they expose the paradox of wanting acceptance within the normative codes

other devotional poems written by mystic poets (the alvars) between the seventh to the tenth centuries, as equal in sanctity to the Sanskrit Vedas revered by all Hindus.

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of a receiving culture, not by emphasizing similarity but by emphasizing cultural and religious difference. Signi¿cantly, despite this contradiction in the translation practices of Protestant missionaries, Protestant Tamil converts have adopted the term vƝtam as an appropriate term for the Bible. The comfort with using vƝtam both in formal Protestant literature as well as in popular, verbal contexts is often justi¿ed on the grounds that the term is not a proper noun that indicates a speci¿c Hindu text but a generic term for any scripture. Thus, whether or not, depending on their caste position, they had had direct access to the Vedas before conversion vƝtam was already a very familiar term that denoted both scripture and revelation. Further, as mentioned earlier, since the Sanskrit and Tamil Vedas and the ĝaivite Ɨkamam were not available to all members of Tamil society, they had, therefore, not been a part of the religious experience of lower caste groups for centuries. In contrast, the Bible, put forward as freely accessible to all, became the ¿rst scripture to be acquired and read by literate lower castes that converted to Protestant Christianity. This widening of the reading audience which complemented the missionary cooption of Hindu terms such as vƝtam served to market Protestant Christianity as far more egalitarian than its rival religious traditions. To conclude, this essay has drawn attention to missionary translators’ assumptions about religious language, religious texts, and translation processes which were under constant and tremendous pressure in colonial South India. They found that cultural differences as much as cultural similarities refused to be straitjacketed into a single set of straightforward, successful rules for translation or language use. Requisitioning the vocabulary of competing religious systems meant that the dangers of confusion or cross-over of concepts was felt to be a continuous threat. The repeated changes to the title of the Tamil Bible indicate unease regarding how best it could be related to the other religious traditions in colonial and postcolonial Tamil culture. These conÀicts in language use eased to some extent with late twentieth-century translations, where Protestant Tamil translators were more committed to presenting Biblical scripture in non-confrontational linguistic registers. This is manifest in the new term ‘tiruvivilium,’ part translation, part transliteration, where the title presents the Bible as a sacred text rather than the only sacred text in Tamil Society. Such shifts in translation strategies in colonial and postcolonial contexts highlight how language choices inÀuence religious cultures and organise relations between them.

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References Primary sources: Tamil Bibles Biblia Damulica. VƝtapostakam. The Old Testament in 3 parts. Bartholomaüs Ziegenbalg. Part 1, Tranquebar, 1723; Part 2, Ziegenbalg and Schultz, Tranquebar 1724; Part 3 Ziegenbalg and Schultz, Tranquebar, 1727. The New Testament. Ulaka iraΛcakarƗkiya iyƝcu kiθistuvinuΛaiya putiya yeθpƗΛu. C.T.E. Rhenius. Madras: Madras Auxiliary Bible Society, 1833. Cattiya VƝtam. The Holy Bible in Tamil, the Old Testament by Fabricius and the New Testament by Rhenius. Madras: Madras Auxiliary Bible Society, 1844. VƝtaputtakam. The Holy Bible Containing Old and New Testaments. Madras: Madras Auxiliary Bible Society, 1850. Cattiya VƝtam. [The Union Version, 1871] The Holy Bible containing the Old and New Testaments. Madras: Madras Auxiliary Bible Society, 1880. The Old Testament in Tamil. Fabricius. Tranquebar: Evangelical Lutheran Mission Press, 1898. Paricutta VƝtƗkamam. 1957. Madras: India Bible House, 1985. Paricutta VƝtƗkamam. Bangalore: Bible Society of India, rpt. 1999. TiruvƗkkuppurƗΧam. A Poetical Version in Tamil of the Holy Scriptures. Part I. Genesis and Exodus XX. Edited by C.C. Macarthur. Jaffna: Ripley and Strong, 1866. [Tamil subtitle of the version: kiθistucamaya vittiyƗcƗlai mƗΧƗkkarum piθarum cattiyavƝtannjlaik kaθθukkoζvataθkupyǀkamƗka mekkƗrtaraiyarƗl purƗΧnaΛaiyƗkac ceyvikkappaΛΛatu.] Tiruviviliyam: potu moζipeyarpu. Bangalore and Tindivanam: BSI-TNBCLC, 1995. Secondary sources Bergunder, Michael 2002 The “Pure Tamil Movement” and Bible Translation: The Ecumenical Thiruvivilium of 1995. In: Brown, Judith M. and Robert Eric Frykenberg (eds.), Christians, Cultural Interactions, and India’s Religious Traditions. London: Routledge. 212 – 231. Carman, John and Vasudha Narayanan 1989 The Tamil Veda: Pillan’s Interpretation of the TiruvƗymoζi. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Fabricius, Johann Philipp and Christian Breithaupt 1786 A Dictionary of the English and Malabar Languages. 2 Vols. Vepery: Lutheran Mission Press. God (TƝyvam) 1901 Bazaar Book Series 105. Madras: Madras Religious Tract and Book Society. Rottler, Johann Peter 1834 – 41 A Dictionary of the Tamil and English Languages. Vol. I. Part I-IV. Madras: Vepery Mission Press.

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Thangaraj, M. Thomas 1999 The Bible as Veda: Biblical Hermeneutics in Tamil Christianity. In: Sugirtharajah, R.S. (ed.), Vernacular Hermeneutics. Shef¿eld: Shef¿eld Academic Press. 133 – 143. Viswanathan, Gauri 1998 Outside the Fold: Conversion, Modernity, and Belief. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Winslow, Miron 1862 A Comprehensive Tamil and English Dictionary of High and Low Tamil. Madras: American Mission Press.

Chapter 9 What mental images reveal about religious lexemes in Yoruba and English in present-day Nigerian churches Folorunso Odidiomo

1.

Introduction1

This chapter deals with an issue that has largely been neglected by most cognitive theories of religion, namely, the cognitive signi¿cance of language in religious beliefs and practices. It particularly explores the relationship between language, the mind and religious life and activities as cultural paradigms, arguing that the language used within a ritual context has an impact on cognitive structures, and consequently the religiosity of adherents. The data reported in this chapter form part of a larger study conducted in South-western Nigeria in 2006 and 2007.2 The study was pursued primarily to investigate the meaning of lexemes of religious practices in a bid to understand the role of language and cognitive structures in the syncretisation process of Nigerian Christian churches. 120 informants, 30 each from the Yoruba-speaking and English-speaking parishes of the Cherubim and Seraphim Church (a prominent brand of the old Aladura (prayer) Church) and the Redeemed Chris1. This chapter is a revised and updated version of a paper I presented at INST Conference: “Knowledge, Creativity, and Transformations of Society”, Vienna, 6 – 9, December 2007, in the panel: “Re-writing Linguistic History – (Post)colonial Reality on the Fringes of Linguistic Theories” organised by Eric A. Anchimbe. Special thanks to Dymitr Ibriszimow, Johannes Kranz, Magnus Echtler and Eric Anchimbe for their inputs. I am deeply indebted to my wife Oluwayemisi Odidiomo for all her help. All inaccuracies and inadequacies in the paper are mine. 2. The sample data discussed in this chapter were collected for the interdisciplinary research project language, rituals and cognitive structures: Localizing Global Christianity in Nigeria. This project was carried out within the framework of the Humanities Collaborative Research Centre of the University of Bayreuth (SFB/ FK 560), and directed by Professors Dymitr Ibriszimow (African Linguistics) and Ulrich Berner (Religious Studies).

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tian Church of God (an example of the new Pentecostal/Charismatic Church), were asked to give within a 30 second time span the characteristics/attributes of lexemes of daily religious practices. The aim was to see how these attributes unveil the conceptual structures of adherents of these churches. The analysis carried out here is based on the respondents’ attributes of the concepts PRAYER (in English) and ÀDÚRÀ (in Yoruba). The methodology used here is borrowed from the prototype theory, and is based on the linguistic method of data collection known as the attribute listing task. The study focuses on a diverse range of cognitive organisation and structures, showing similarities and differences in patterns of conceptualisation between the different parishes within one church, i.e. the English-speaking and the Yoruba-speaking. These similarities and differences point to the role which language and/or language choice plays in the speci¿c structuring of human cognition. The analysis presented here, in which elements of traditional African culture and Christian tradition are combined, show the intricate intermingling of linguistic and extra-linguistic factors, hence underscoring the importance of language as a socio-cognitive tool. As mentioned above, this factor has generally been neglected in most cognitive theories of religion.

2.

Cognitive science of religion

Since the early 1990s, cognitive theories have gained importance within the ¿eld of religious studies. Admittedly, this trend is consequent upon the serious work done by Lawson and McCauley (1990), Guthrie (1993), Mithen (1996), Barrett (2000), Boyer (2001), and Pyysiäinen (2001). In recent years in particular, the modes of religiosity theory introduced by the cultural anthropologist Harvey Whitehouse (1998, 2002, 2004) has been widely discussed (Whitehouse and Laidlaw 2004, Whitehouse and Martin 2004, Whitehouse and McCauley 2005). These authors, along with others, have approached religion, or more speci¿cally religious rituals, from the perspective of cognitive science and have proposed links between ritual practices and cognitive functioning of the human mind (Lawson and McCauley 1990, Whitehouse and Laidlaw 2004). In other words, cognitive theorists of religion emphasise the inÀuence of rituals on human cognition, but the degree to which language is involved in, and the impact it has within a ritual context on, cognitive structures has generally not been thoroughly investigated. This chapter will try to ¿ll this gap

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with data from a postcolonial country in which religion has gained substantial grounds in peoples’ daily lives. Berner (2004) and Peel (2004) attempt in their respective studies to apply the Whitehousean paradigm of doctrinal and imagistic modes of religiosity to African Christianity. However, they do not focus on the speci¿c role of different indigenous African languages in religious rituals (e.g. baptism, marriage, and naming ceremony) and/or religious activities (involving spoken language, e.g. praying, singing, preaching, and testimony) of Christian churches. In contemporary postcolonial Nigeria, for instance, Christian churches are found sprawling with services conducted in local Nigerian languages and English as a result of local and global inÀuences. The “types of conversion” discussed by Berner (2004) could be understood as the basis of religious syncretism in Nigeria. Unfortunately, the signi¿cance of language and cognitive structures for the religiosity of individuals as a result of this transitional conversion from one religion to another has generally been downplayed. As far as conversion is concerned, one could mention the move from African traditional religion to Christianity or from one (Christian) religious denomination to another, i.e. from an Aladura Church to a Pentecostal Church and vice versa. Whitehouse, in his cognitive science-oriented theory of religion, already referred to above, distinguishes doctrinal and imagistic modes of religiosity. These divergent modes in turn are based on two speci¿c organisational principles of human long-term memory: semantic and episodic. Semantic memory consists of knowledge of general nature about our world (in the sense of a lexical memory), while episodic or autobiographical memory consists of speci¿c events in our life experience, usually remembered as peculiar episodes. The doctrinal and imagistic modes are marked by a set of cognitive and socio-cultural features that interact with each other, and are totally based on the production and reproduction of religious ideas and emotional rituals. One conspicuous feature of the doctrinal mode is the “highly routinised” (i.e. frequently repeated) religious teachings that are expressed in words. That is, religious ideas are verbally transmitted through the oratory of the religious leaders. Whitehouse (2002: 297) has argued that “a great advantage of frequent repetition is that it allows the establishment of a great deal of explicit verbal knowledge in the semantic memory”. The doctrinal mode is of low emotional intensity, and is able to rapidly expand globally. By contrast, the imagistic mode is based on personal experience. In the imagistic mode, less and rare rituals of high emotional intensity take place, and it is limited to a small, local group.

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3.

What this chapter examines

However, within the same interdisciplinary ¿eld of cognitive science hypotheses have been developed and, of course, there is a considerable body of evidence, particularly by scholars and researchers working in cognitive linguistics, that points to the relationship between language and cognitive processing in the mind (Talmy 1985, Johnson 1987, Lakoff 1987, Aitchison 2003). The present chapter, therefore, seeks to analyse the role of language vis-à-vis the interplay of ritual practices and general cognitive abilities in the human mind. It provides further evidence to support the wider notion of cognitive linguists, but it does this entirely from a different empirical focus. This chapter examines the effect which language, exempli¿ed in this case by English and Yoruba, has on cognitive structures drawn from lexemes of daily religious practices of Nigerian Christian churches. Thus, the term “mental images”, i.e. knowledge representations as construed by the human mind (Evans and Green 2006: 7), is adopted because of the nature – as in abstractness – of the data discussed here. The focus of the empirical analysis is on the mental images of the abstract religious concept PRAYER (in English) and ÀDÚRÀ (in Yoruba). As mentioned above, these are elicited from the members of the Cherubim and Seraphim Church (henceforth C&S) and the Redeemed Christian Church of God (henceforth RCCG).

4.

Background to the churches

Before going any further, a short background to the churches from where data were collected may not be out of place here. As said above, these churches have parishes in English and Yoruba. 4.1.

The Cherubim and Seraphim Church (C&S)

The C&S is a brand of the Aladura (praying) churches which belong to the so-called African Initiated Churches (AICs).3 The appellation ‘African Initiated Church’ refers to a church created by Africans in Africa, whose intentions and messages may not be just “for Africans” (cf. Tuner 1967). In religious discourse, the C&S has been analysed either as syncretistic or in terms of acculturation, and subsequently, been identi¿ed as an “authentic” African Chris3. These churches have been referred to interchangeably as African Independent Churches, African Instituted Churches, and African Indigenous Churches. The appellations all match the abbreviation AIC.

Mental images in Yoruba and English

187

tianity. It is classi¿ed thus because of the complex interplay between African traditional culture and Western Christian tradition. Very important is the fact that the C&S parishes which originally started with the Yoruba have not completely broken away from the Yoruba tradition. They rely much on practices (imagistic) and not on doctrine (Peel 2004). See Omoyajowo (1982) and Meyer (2004) for a detailed history of the evolutionary path of the C&S church and the pioneering role of the founding fathers, and also Adegboyin and Ishola (1997) for an overview of African indigenous churches. 4.2.

The Redeemed Christian Church of God (RCCG)

Prophet Josiah Akindayomi founded the RCCG in 1952 after a long period of religious and doctrinal skepticism. Pa Akindayomi was a Yoruba man from Ondo in South-western Nigeria. Before his conversion into Christianity he was an ardent believer in the African traditional religion; of course, not an idol worshipper as the Christian Bible would de¿ne it. In more speci¿c parlance, he was a traditional healer within the con¿nes of the Yoruba-type of African religion. He became a convert of the Church Missionary Society (CMS) in 1927. He later joined the C&S church in 1931 out of dissatisfaction with the Westernoriented doctrines of the CMS. His dissatisfaction with some of the doctrines of the C&S and, more particularly, the need to pursue his divine call, pushed him to leave the Church and to found the RCCG. At inception, the RCCG was positioned within the Aladura church. Precisely, it took its root from the C&S church. After the death of Akindayomi in 1980, a new educated leader in the person of Dr. Enoch Adeboye emerged in 1981. Adeboye gradually fashioned the church after the neo-Pentecostal movement, and thus propagated a ‘break’ with African tradition and the local societies. He took up membership with global or international organisations and, above all, facilitated ¿nancial success for members in the modern world. Adeboye aggressively reformed the church making it the fastest growing church in Nigeria with thousands of parishes spread across the country and abroad. In May 1988, the new leader created what came to be known as the model parishes (English service) as against the classical parishes (Yoruba service) (see Ukah 2005). In the classical parishes, there were efforts to hold the ideals of the founding father of the church. Notable among these are that women are not allowed to wear trousers, earrings and make-up, and have to cover their hair during fellowship. All services are conducted in Yoruba since almost all the members are Yoruba. The classical parishes emphasise above all holiness. The model parishes have a modern and liberal outlook, allowing for some Àexibility in the “don’ts” of the classical parishes. Services are mainly in English and are not translated into

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Yoruba. As the name indicates, the model parishes emphasise modernity and prosperity. For a detailed description see Ukah (2008).

5.

Methodology and analytic framework

As mentioned earlier, this chapter investigates the meanings of lexemes related to religious doctrine in Nigerian Christian Churches, with the aim of establishing the role of language in cognitive structure. The attempt is, ¿rst of all, to refocus the common tendency in most cognitive-semantic investigations, i.e. to move from concrete objects/words to the more abstract word-¿eld of religious concepts. The lexemes, i.e. prayer and àdúrà, investigated here are part of the following semantic ¿elds: religious notions (e.g. God, angel, hell, paradise); social relationships (e.g. family, marriage, father, mother); and physical objects (e.g. church, altar, water, candle). Focus, however, in the analysis is on the concept PRAYER in both English and Yoruba. The methodology used in this chapter is taken from the prototype theory (¿rst developed by Eleanor Rosch and her collaborators), which forms the core of the cognitive-semantic approach to the study of language. In cognitive semantics, word meanings are conceived of as reÀections of culture-determined cognitive structures that inÀuence and control everyday actions. In other words, meanings mirror perceptions, ways of thinking, and collective memories shared by speakers of a language. The assumption that we perceive and conceptualise our experience of the world through language is the basis of cognitive semantics. Cognitive semantics is chosen here because it treats linguistic meaning not as the relationship between words and the world (truth-conditional semantics) but as a manifestation of conceptual structures (Evans and Green 2006: 156). It, therefore, employs language as a key methodological tool to uncover conceptual organisation and structure. The prototype theory of meaning (see Schmid 2007: 134 – 136) includes the following principal assumptions: (1) word meanings are reÀections of conceptual categories or concepts, as they are being construed in the conscious mind, and (2) meanings of a word are not ¿xed but have fuzzy boundaries. The conceptual structures behind the lexemes from a range of religious word ¿elds were analysed on the basis of the attribute listing task (Ungerer and Schmid 2006). In this test, English and Yoruba were used as methodological tools – since we do not have direct access to the human mind – to elicit the attributes/properties of these lexemes as a means of elucidating the structures in the mind. The informants who participated in the test from the respective parishes of the (AIC) Aladura-type C&S and the Pentecostal RCCG were presented with

Mental images in Yoruba and English

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religious lexemes (e.g. English: prayer, Yoruba: àdúrà) and were instructed to write down within a time span of 30 seconds the attributes of the given words. They were instructed to write only what they felt to be essential for the description of the concept behind these words. These immediate responses made explicit the underlying cognitive structures. Following the standard analysis of the collected data, the attributes given by the individual informants were evaluated according to the indicators: frequency and weight (Ibriszimow, Schmid and Zulyadaini 2005). Frequency points out the number of informants who mentioned a certain attribute. Weight (in percentage) refers to the proportion of informants who mentioned a certain attribute within the group. The attributes were organised into two different groups: major attributes and minor attributes. The major attributes were those mentioned by at least 20 percent of the informants. By contrast, the minor attributes were those given by 10 to 20 percent of the informants. The attributes were organised in this way to retain not only the major attributes but to draw comparisons between the major attributes and some relevant minor information. Those attributes written down by less than 10 percent of the informants were invalid in the analysis because of the small proportion of the informants connected with them. They have, however, been included in the tables below just to give the reader an idea of the broad range of mental images these lexemes represent. As mentioned in the introduction, the ¿eldwork took place in South-western Nigeria where Yoruba is widely spoken. Of the 120 informants, 30 each were drawn from the English-speaking and Yoruba-speaking parishes of the RCCG and the C&S. So, four groups were involved in the test, namely: (1) Informants from a parish of C&S with liturgy only in Yoruba, (2) informants from an English-speaking parish of the same church with an exclusively English liturgy, (3) informants who belong to a Yoruba parish of the RCCG, and (4) informants who belong to an English parish of the same church, RCCG. The intention was to compare the conceptual structures of the respective groups in order to identify not only the similarities but also the differences in the conceptual structures of the respective parishes within one church and across the two churches.

6.

Results

At the heart of this empirical analysis is the religious lexeme prayer whose Yoruba equivalent is àdúrà. Below (see Tables 1, 2, 3 and 4) is a diverse range of mental images of these lexemes collected from informants in both Englishspeaking and Yoruba-speaking parishes. I have translated the Yoruba attributes

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into English but have maintained their original Yoruba meanings as much as possible. Table 1 provides information about the conceptual structures of ÀDÚRÀ from the Yoruba-speaking parish of C&S. In the major attributes, the religious concept ÀDÚRÀ is perceived and conceptualised in terms of concrete objects, for instance, as a ‘staff’ (37%), a ‘guide’ (37%) and a ‘key’ (33%). These particular concrete objects are relied upon for achieving astonishing goals through prayer or could be used for something speci¿c. For instance, they are needed to ¿ght ‘(a spiritual) war’, to obtain ‘victory’, and to receive ‘joy/joyful things’. Table 1. Àdúrà - attribute listings from the Yoruba-speaking parish of C&S Àdúrà

Translation

Frequency Weight (in %)

opa ogun kristiani

christian’s staff for ¿ghting war

11

37

amona fun isegun

guide to victory

11

37

kokoro ayo/a¿ n bere ohun key to joy/for requesting ayo for joyful things

10

33

fun asejopo ati biba olorun for relating and communisoro; idakeje pelu Olorun cating with God; meditation

9

30

fun abo Olorun

for God’s protection

8

27

fun wiwa oju rere olorun

for seeking God’s favour

7

23

agbara Olorun

power of God

6

20

itusile lowo ota

deliverance from enemies

6

20

ohun elo onigbagbo

christians’ tool/weapon

5

17

fun igbala

for salvation

5

17

sisi ona fun ojo ola

for opening paths to a better future

4

13

ohun idunu

a thing of happiness

2

7

iro okan

one’s thought

2

7

Note that in the minor attribute list àdúrà is also conceived of in terms of concrete objects such as a ‘tool/weapon’ (17%) and a ‘path-opener’ (13%) to a better future. Again in the major attributes, ÀDÚRÀ is conceptualised as a way of ‘relating’, ‘meditating’ and ‘communicating’ with God (30%). Apart from that, it ensures ‘protection’ (27%), ‘God’s favour’ (23%), and ‘deliverance from enemies’ (20%). Also the concept ÀDÚRÀ is conceived of in terms of ‘power’ (20%) which could be supposedly obtained only from God.

Mental images in Yoruba and English

191

Table 2 shows the cognitive properties of the concept PRAYER from the English-speaking parish of the C&S. The major attribute list indicates that the lexeme prayer is predominantly perceived and conceptualised as a ‘means of communicating with God’ (73%). It is understood as a form of ‘contact or relationship with God’ (27%). Table 2. Prayer - attribute listings from the English-speaking parish of C&S Prayer

Frequency

Weight (in %)

means of communicating with God

22

73

christians’ weapon

9

30

contact (relationship) with God

8

27

protection / for averting danger

3

10

victory

2

7

speaking in tongues

1

3

desire

1

3

blessings

1

3

words

1

3

healing

1

3

hope

1

3

worshiping

1

3

a way of giving thanks to God

1

3

The purpose of such interaction and the basis for relating with God are unfortunately not explicitly mentioned. The concept PRAYER is also conceptualised in terms of a physical object, i.e. ‘weapon’ (30%) that could be used by Christians for different purposes. In addition, conceptual information that mirrors the expectation of prayer, i.e. ‘protection’/‘averting danger’ (10%) is mentioned in the minor attributes. Table 3 gives information about the cognitive structures of the concept PRAYER from the English-speaking parish of the RCCG. The dominant attribute of the concept is that it is ‘a means of communication with God’ (90%). The conceptual properties: ‘requesting something from God’ (40%), ‘connection to the spiritual realm’/‘walking with God’ (23%), and ‘praising and worshiping God’ (20%) are listed as the purpose of prayer in the major attributes. Furthermore, the concept PRAYER is construed as concrete objects such as ‘a weapon’ (33%), ‘a master key’ (27%) and ‘a sword’ (20%). Other conceptual structures of the concept PRAYER from this parish, though mentioned in the minor attri-

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Folorunso Odidiomo

butes, that are relevant for the later discussion in this study are ‘solution from God’ (17%), ‘thanksgiving to God’ (10%), ‘special words’/‘words of authority’ (17%) and ‘communicating with God through Jesus Christ’ (10%). Table 3. Prayer - attribute listings from the English-speaking parish of RCCG Prayer

Frequency

Weight (in %)

a means of communication with God

27

90

for requesting something from God

12

40

believers’ weapon of warfare

10

33

a master key

8

27

to be in a spiritual realm / connection with heaven / walking with God

7

23

praising and worshipping God

6

20

sword of Christians

6

20

solution from God

5

17

special words/words of authority

5

17

thanksgiving to God

3

10

communicating with God through Jesus

3

10

confession

2

7

blessing

2

7

prayers open heaven

2

7

commandment of God

2

7

inheritance from God

2

7

Table 4 recapitulates the cognitive structures common among informants from the Yoruba-speaking parish of the RCCG. The predominant idea in this parish is that the Christian faithfuls ‘communicate with God’ (90 %) by means of prayer and, apparently, they do this in order to make their hearts’ desires known to God so he could then ful¿l them. Moreover, what prayer could achieve or do is presented in the main attributes, for instance, ‘receiving something from God’ (60 %), ‘victory’ (50 %), ‘giving thanks to God’ (23 %), ‘spiritual warfare’ (20 %). In the minor attributes are ‘getting out of bondage or troubles’ (17 %), ‘praising God’ (13 %), ‘protection’ (13 %), and ‘mutual relationship with God’ (10 %). The concept ÀDÚRÀ is connected notably also with symbolic representations of everyday objects such as a ‘staff’, and a ‘weapon’ in the main attributes. Note that ‘key’ (13 %) is enlisted in the minor attributes. ÀDÚRÀ is construed in

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terms of these material objects that can be used not only in ‘spiritual warfare’ but also for survival in the physical world or as reliable backups (‘believer’s trust’), i.e. ‘victory’ is assured through prayer. Table 4. Àdúrà - attribute listings from the Yoruba-speaking parish of RCCG Àdúrà

Translation

Frequency

Weight (in %)

ona ti a ¿ ba Olorun soro ki o le se edun okan wa

a means of communicating our heart’s desires to God, so that they can be ful¿lled

27

90

ona gbigba nkan lowo Olorun

a way of receiving something from God

18

60

opa isegun onigbagbo

believers’ staff for victory

15

50

ona fun idupe

a way of giving thanks to God

7

23

ohun ija emi / ohun igbekele onigbagbo

weapons of spiritual warfare/ believer’s trust

6

20

onaabayo ninu isoro tabi ide

a way of getting out of troubles or bondage

5

17

yinyin olorun logo

praising God

4

13

ebun olorun

God’s gift

4

13

kokoro onigbagbo

believers’ key

4

13

fun idabobo

for protection

3

10

Ibasepo laarin eniyan ati Olorun

mutual relationship between God and man

3

10

fun kikanlekun orun

for knocking the gate of heaven

2

7

ona ijewo ese

a way of confessing one’s sin

2

7

wiwa ojurere Olorun fun igbega

seeking God’s favour for an uplift

2

7

fun iwosan

for healing

1

3

7.

Discussion

As said earlier, it is the object of this study to present which mental images are revealed through religious lexemes and what these mental representations tell us about the understanding of the religious issues under investigation. The main concern here is to demonstrate that language plays a signi¿cant role in the

194

Folorunso Odidiomo

speci¿c structuring of cognition, i.e. it impacts greatly on the contents of the semantic and episodic memory. This reasoning is based on the premise that language is required (in this sense as a cognitive weapon) both in the transmission of religious doctrines and the dissemination of emotional ritual experiences. 7.1.

Mental images: ÀDÚRÀ/PRAYER in the parishes of the C&S

It is important to point out that there are more mental representations of the concept ÀDÚRÀ (Table 1) than PRAYER (Table 2). The informants from the Yoruba-speaking parish demonstrate implicitly or explicitly knowledge of their native language, whereas in the English-speaking parish, English cannot capture adequately their African (Yoruba) world view. In both parishes of the C&S, there are common structures found in Yoruba and English-speaking parishes. For instance, the lexeme prayer is perceived and conceptualised as a means of communication between God and the Christian. The informants also conceptualise PRAYER in terms of ¿ghting a spiritual war against presumed enemies. Typical enemies, as these churches conceive of them include witches, wizards, witch doctors, demons and, of course, other man-made dif¿culties. But the pattern of conceptualising what they use in ¿ghting the “war” differs in both parishes. In the Yoruba-speaking parish ÀDÚRÀ is conceptualised in terms of ‘a staff’, while in the English-speaking parish PRAYER is conceived of as ‘a weapon’. These different conceptualisations are rooted in both local (Yoruba) and foreign (English) inÀuences. Thus, the difference could not be in the ‘domain’ but rather at the level of speci¿city. The members of both the English-speaking and Yoruba-speaking parishes emphasise the need to ‘communicate regularly with God in order to remain in contact’, and they are also of the opinion that PRAYER is for ‘protection’. In that sense, to keep out of danger enemies are to be spiritually fought. In the Yoruba-speaking parish, the essence of àdúrà is premised on the saying that “life is war”. So, this consciousness is clearly represented in the mental images from this particular parish. Furthermore, there are differences in the attribute lists and these are mainly found in the Yoruba-speaking parish. The lexeme àdúrà is construed as a means for achieving speci¿c things, for instance, religious adherents purposely indulge in prayer for ‘victory’, ‘joy’, ‘God’s favour’ and ‘power’. The association of ‘a staff’, ‘a key’, ‘a tool/weapon’ and ‘path-opener’ with ÀDÚRÀ suggests understanding the abstract concept PRAYER in terms of concrete objects. Thus, taking into account that there are as many as eight major attributes for àdúrà in Yoruba (Table 1) versus three major attributes for prayer in English (Table 2), one could talk of a shift from imagistic to doctrinal mode ‘by default’, based on language and not rituals.

Mental images in Yoruba and English

7.2.

195

Mental images: PRAYER/ÀDÚRÀ in the parishes of the RCCG

Generally speaking, the perceptual information is distributed almost evenly in the English-speaking and the Yoruba-speaking parishes. Common patterns of thought are found in the mental images of the concept PRAYER /ÀDÚRÀ. For instance, there is a general conception among informants from both parishes that prayer is a means of communication between man and his creator. The mental images in both parishes also show that prayer entails: (1) indulging in the practice of ‘requesting’ or ‘receiving’ something from God, (2) giving thanks to God, (3) being purposely weaponised or armed to ¿ght a spiritual war, (4) praising and worshipping God, (5) possessing or making use of a key, and (6) asking for a solution to problems from God. There are, however, differences in ways of conceptualisation in both parishes of the RCCG. For instance, in the Yoruba-speaking parish, one ‘receives’ via prayer something from God. On the contrary, in the English-speaking parish one ‘requests’ something from God. It seems the informants from the Englishspeaking parish are aware that they have problems which need to be solved and, therefore, ask God in a polite way to come to their assistance. This reÀects the Biblical saying in Matthew 7:7: “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will ¿nd; knock and the door will be opened to you”. This is also a golden rule Christians follow in prayer. The perspective of the Yoruba-speaking parish is that God knows the mind of every person and is expected to meet their needs, since God considers Christians as his children – even if they do not request. The fact is that in the Yoruba world view God (Olódùmarè) is referred to as “Olumoran Okan” (“He who knows what is on our minds”). In the Yoruba-speaking parish, the outcomes of àdúrà are mentioned, i.e. not only in reference to the object ‘opa’ (staff) but also as a means to an end, such as ‘victory’. What this reveals of the Yorubas is that they are a people who expect results. In the same parish, the church members perceive àdúrà as a sign of ‘trust’ in God. Most of the results of prayer are mentioned as minor attributes (Table 3). The metaphors PRAYER IS A MASTER KEY and PRAYER IS A SWORD came up as main attributes in the English-speaking parish whereas in the Yoruba-speaking parish àdúrà is metaphorically conceptualised as PRAYER IS A KEY (in the sense of an ‘ordinary key’). The reason for the difference, I assume, is that it is not possible to translate ‘master key’ into Yoruba directly. In the English-speaking parish, PRAYER is also understood in terms of being in the spiritual realm and as directed, in most cases, to God. But the object or purpose of communication is not immediately mentioned. Prayer is also wea-

196

Folorunso Odidiomo

ponised, for instance, PRAYER IS A WEAPON OF SPIRITUAL informants from both the Yoruba and English parishes. 7.3.

WARFARE

used by the

Mental images: ÀDÚRÀ in the Yoruba-speaking parishes of C&S and RCCG

In the Yoruba parishes of C&S and RCCG, there are notable similarities in the pattern of conceptualising ÀDÚRÀ. In these parishes, ÀDÚRÀ is conceptualised as ‘a way of communicating with God’, ‘a staff’, ‘a key’ and ‘a weapon’. Also, the outcomes of prayer are listed in terms of ‘victory’ and ‘protection’. The differences are indicated in symbolic representations like ‘staff’ and ‘weapon’, and what they are used for. In the Yoruba-speaking parish of the C&S, the lexeme àdúrà was construed as a ‘staff for ¿ghting war’ while in RCCG it was perceived as ‘a staff for victory’. But ‘victory’ puts the focus on the result instead of on the process as the C&S does. The informants from the Yoruba-speaking parish of the RCCG construed the lexeme àdúrà in terms of ‘weapons of warfare’. In Yoruba world view, ‘a staff’ (as in Opa ase) is believed to be powerful and is mostly used by the great (often mythic) warriors in ¿ghting war. It is also commonly used by the Kings to pronounce edicts or decrees; as a sign of authority. Furthermore, ‘a staff’ is also regarded as possessing power even in the Bible. For instance, Moses was able to split the Red Sea in two by striking it with his staff. He used his staff in many other instances against the Egyptians. 7.4.

Mental images: PRAYER in English-speaking parishes of C&S and RCCG

There are signi¿cantly more major attributes in the English-speaking parishes of RCCG than in the C&S. This is perhaps because of the doctrinal orientation of the RCCG and the cultural inÀuence on the C&S church: The RCCG is based on the doctrinal mode of religiosity. The conceptual structures of both parishes are similar. They both perceive prayer mainly as ‘a means of communication with God’ and as ‘a weapon of warfare’. However, conceptual structures like ‘master key’ and ‘praise and worship’ that are present in the English-speaking parish of RCCG are absent in the attribute list from the English-speaking parish of the C&S. This absence could be accounted for by the choice of language. However, the end results of prayer are mentioned, but they seem to be less relevant in both churches given that they only qualify as minor attributes.

Mental images in Yoruba and English

7.5.

197

Mental images: PRAYER and ÀDÚRÀ in C&S and RCCG compared

There are no clear-cut differences in the concept PRAYER (ÀDÚRÀ) as construed in both parishes of the RCCG, but the parishes of C&S display a wide range of similar and different conceptual structures. In both churches, the results show a number of instances of the use of one kind of concrete object in interpreting the abstract concept of PRAYER. For example: PRAYER IS A SWORD, PRAYER IS A WEAPON, PRAYER IS A KEY, PRAYER IS A MASTER KEY, PRAYER IS A TOOL, or PRAYER IS A PATH-OPENER. The perceptual information ‘weapon’ is present in the respective parishes, English-speaking and Yoruba-speaking, of the RCCG and the C&S.

8.

Conclusion

This chapter has demonstrated that the use of Yoruba and English in the respective parishes of the RCCG and C&S results in different mental images. Those attributes that constitute the mental images of the concept PRAYER in both churches reÀect different linguistic and cultural traditions. First of all, they are couched in different languages: Yoruba and English. It is clear that these languages have different ways of representing certain elements based on cultural priorities. Note that Pastor Adeboye – the General overseer of the RCCG – “advises his audience to pray in the vernacular” (Ukah 2008: 321), i.e. in their different local languages. This is the point where adherents articulate their African awareness. Secondly, they display a combination of elements of African culture and Western Christianity. Speci¿cally, the informants from the C&S lean more towards the Nigerian or Yoruba traditional culture than those from the RCCG. Interestingly, Ogungbile (2001: 66) holds that the indigenisation of an African Christian religion can be attained through the use of a local language, a local culture with its beliefs and practices, and adherence to the biblical roots of Christianity.

Thirdly, the perceptual information that constitutes mental images in these churches is deeply rooted in metaphor. The essence of metaphor, according to the conceptual metaphor theory proposed by Lakoff and Johnson (1980), has to do with understanding and interpreting one kind of thing in terms of another kind of thing. The study, therefore, concludes that these mental images could act as facilitators in terms of understanding the religiosity of adherents in Nigerian Christian churches. The tendency of a believer to lean (more) towards an imagistic mode or doctrinal one depends not only on the semantic and episodic memory

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Folorunso Odidiomo

but also on the very impact of language as a cognitive tool in religious practices.

References Adegboyin, Deji, and S. Ademola Ishola 1997 African Indigenous Churches: An Historical Perspective. Lagos: Nigeria: Greater Heights Publications. Aitchison, Jean 2003 Words in the Mind: An Introduction to the Mental Lexicon. Oxford: Blackwell. Barrett, Justin 2000 Exploring the natural foundations of religion. Trends in Cognitive Sciences 4: 29 – 34. Berner, Ulrich 2004 Modes of religiosity and types of conversion in medieval Europe and modern Africa. In: Whitehouse, Harvey and Luther H. Martin (eds.), pp. 157 – 172. Boyer, Pascal 2001 Religion Explained: The Evolutionary Origins of Religious Thought. New York: Basic Books. Evans, Vyvyan and Melanie Green 2006 Cognitive Linguistics. An Introduction. Edinburgh: Edinburgh Unversity Press. Guthrie, Steward 1993 Faces in the Clouds: A New Theory of Religion. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ibriszimow, Dymitr, Hans-Jörg Schmid and Balarabe Zulyadaini 2005 ‘My clothes are my home or what do we really mean?’: A Hausa example. In: Baroin, Catherine, Gisela Seidensticker-Brikay and Kiyari Tijani (eds.), Man and the Lake: Proceedings of the XIIth Mega-Chad Conference, Maiduguri, 2nd–9th 12 – 2003. Maiduguri. 185 – 195. Johnson, Mark 1987 The Body in the Mind: The Bodily Basis of Meaning, Imagination and Reason. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Lakoff, George 1987 Women, Fire and Dangerous Things: What Categories Reveal about the Mind. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Lakoff, George and Mark Johnson 1980 Metaphors we Live by. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

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Lawson, Thomas E. and Robert N. McCauley 1990 Rethinking Religion: Connecting Cognition and Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Meyer, Birgit 2004 Christianity in Africa: From African Independent to Pentecostal-Charismatic Churches. Annual Review of Anthropology 33: 447 – 474. Mithen, Steven 1996 The Prehistory of the Mind. London: Phoenix. Ogungbile, David 2001 The dynamics of language in cultural revolution and African spirituality: The Case of Ijo Orile-Ede Adulawo ti Kristi (National Church of Christ) in Nigeria. Nordic Journal of African Studies 10(1): 66 – 79. Omoyajowo, Akinyele J. 1982 Cherubim and Seraphim: The History of an African Independent Church. New York: NOK Publishers International. Peel, J.D.Y. 2004 Divergent modes of religiosity in West Africa. In: Whitehouse, Harvey and J. Laidlaw (eds.), pp. 1 – 20. Pyysiäinen, Ilkka 2001 How Religion Works: Towards a New Cognitive Science of Religion. Leiden: Brill. Schmid, Hans-Jörg 2007 Light English, local English and ¿ctitious English: Conceptual structures in North-Eastern Nigerian English and the question of an English-language identity. In: Anchimbe, Eric A. (ed.), Linguistic Identity in Postcolonial Multilingual Spaces. Cambridge: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. 134 – 160. Talmy, Leonard 1985 Force dynamics in language and thought. In: Eilfort, William H., Paul D. Kroeber and Karen L. Peterson (eds.), Papers from the Parasession on Causatives and Agentivity. Chicago: Chicago Linguistics Society. 293 – 337. Turner, Harold W. 1967 History of an African Independent Church: The Church of the Lord (Aladura), vol. I; The Life and Faith of the Church of the Lord (Aladura) vol. II, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Ukah, Asonzeh 2005 Globalisation of Pentecostalism in Africa: Evidence from the Redeemed Christian Church of God (RCCG), Nigeria. IFRA Ibadan Special Research Issue 1: 93 – 112. Ukah, Asonzeh 2008 A New Paradigm of Pentecostal Power: A Study of the Redeemed Christian Church of God in Nigeria. Trenton: Africa World Press.

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Ungerer, Friedrich and Hans-Jörg Schmid 2006 An Introduction to Cognitive Linguistics. Edinburgh: Pearson. Whitehouse, Harvey 1998 Arguments and Icons: Divergent Modes of Religiosity. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Whitehouse, Harvey 2002 Mode of religiosity: Towards a cognitive explanation of the sociopolitical dynamics of religion. Method and Theory 14: 293 – 315. Whitehouse, Harvey 2004 Modes of Religiosity: A Cognitive Theory of Religious Transmission. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira Press. Whitehouse, Harvey and James Laidlaw (eds.) 2004 Ritual and Memory. Towards a Comparative Anthropology of Religion. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira Press. Whitehouse, Harvey and Luther H. Martin (eds.) 2004 Theorizing Religions Past: Archaeology, History, and Cognition. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira Press. Whitehouse, Harvey and Robert N. McCauley 2005 Mind and Religion: Psychological and Cognitive Foundations of Religiosity. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira Press.

Chapter 10 Foreign culture lexicography and beyond: Perspectives from the history of Igbo lexicography Chinedu Uchechukwu

1.

Introduction

The expression foreign culture lexicography refers to the early lexicographic tradition that can be traced back to the collection of word lists and vocabularies of the languages of colonized or explored territories as specimens of such foreign worlds and cultures (Ayivi 2000). The works produced within this tradition were mainly for a European audience. The history of Igbo lexicography not only illustrates this point but also demonstrates a shift away from the initial European audience in the later lexicographic works by native Igbo speakers. Through the examination of this development in Igbo lexicography, this chapter argues that a historical investigation of this shift should contribute to a ¿ner delineation of the target audience and to an improvement of the quality of the lexicographic works themselves. The rest of the chapter goes into this issue as follows. Section two examines the place of the target audience of lexicographic works within the context of a cultural-cum-linguistic independence while sections 3 and 4 relate the same issue to the early and post independence era of Igbo lexicography respectively. Section 5 carries the summary of the major ¿ndings arrived at and the conclusion.

2.

Lexicography and cultural and linguistic independence

A recent development in the history of African lexicography is the heuristic categorization of aspects of African lexicography as foreign culture lexicography (Ayivi 2000) and native culture lexicography (Uchechukwu 2006). Both categories cannot be described as explicitly worked out lexicographic principles; instead, they are to be seen as one of those “hidden principles” with which a lexicographer might work without being conscious of them (Piotrowski 2000: 16).

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With the examples of American, German, and Igbo lexicography, the two concepts shall be used to introduce and explore the connection between lexicography and cultural-cum-linguistic independence. The foreign culture lexicography has its origin in Ayivi’s (2000) examination of the development of Ewe lexicography. Generally, the early lexicographic works of many an African language had a wide spectrum of European missionaries, colonial administrators and traders as the target audience, and strove to provide as much ethnographic information as possible for this wide audience. One of the basic traits of these early works is the emphasis on foreign and culture. The works were to serve as a gateway into the foreign languages and cultures within the colonized or the as yet to be colonized territories. Ayivi designates them as Fremdkulturwörterbuch (Foreign culture dictionary), which he de¿nes as Ein Lexikon, das den Anspruch erhebt, seinem Benutzer eine fremde kultur bzw. eine ihm bislang unbekannte Welt in ihrer Ganzheit zu erschließen. Diese Ganzheit umfaßt die Einführung in die Fremdsprache sowie in die Disziplinen der Religion, Philosophie, Anthropologie, Ethnologie, Botanik, Zoologie usw. (Ayivi 2000: 16) A dictionary that makes claims to opening up to its user the entirety of a foreign culture i.e. the entirety of a world that is hitherto unknown to him. This entirety includes the introduction to the foreign language as well as the disciplines of religion, philosophy, anthropology, ethnology, botany, zoology, etc. (my translation)

The native culture lexicography, on the other hand, is a heuristic categorization from Uchechukwu (2006) with reference to the reactions of native speakers to the perceived misrepresentation of their culture in the foreign-culture dictionaries. Uchechukwu describes native culture dictionary as ein Wörterbuch…das einsprachig oder mehrsprachig und von Muttersprachlern geschrieben ist, mit Einbeziehung und Hervorhebung des eigenen Sprachgebrauchs und der in der Muttersprache ausgearbeiteten grammatischen Begriffe für die lexikographischen Darstellungen und ihre Strukturierung, aber mit dem Ziel die Vorstellungen in den Fremdkulturwörterbüchern zu korrigieren. (Uchechukwu 2006: 19) a monolingual or multilingual dictionary…written by native speakers, and includes and emphasizes the usages and grammatical concepts of the native language for lexicographic presentation and structure, but written with the goal of correcting the presentations in the foreign culture dictionaries. (my translation)

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203

Such a phase of lexicographically striving to promote one’s own language and culture as a reaction to either the actual or perceived suppression or misrepresentation of one’s culture from ‘outside’, or simply as a result of a certain cultural consciousness, always leads to a strong rhetorical emphasis on one’s native culture and usage. Depending on the peculiarities of the particular language and its lexicographic tradition, these two heuristic phases, the foreign culture lexicography and the native culture lexicography, could involve a monolingual or a bilingual context. To underscore the place of these two phases in Igbo lexicography, let us examine two similar but also very disparaging contexts in which similar lexicographical changes took place: the USA and Germany. This is to emphasise the relevance of native and culture in the production of dictionaries by native speakers. The American context is a monolingual settler colony that strove to become independent of the ‘motherland’, Britain. According to Algeo (1989), three phases can be established for American lexicography. Within the ¿rst phase, dictionaries from the motherland were simply imported and used. In the second phase dictionaries were produced in line with the models from the motherland, but with the inclusion of several peculiarities of the growing standard in the ‘new’ territory. The third phase marks the publication of dictionaries on the basis of the usages of the ‘new nation’. Algeo sees a connection between these developments and the struggle for political independence from Great Britain, the motherland, because within this period of American political history “cultural independence [from the motherland] became a matter of national pride” (Algeo 1989: 1987). This consciousness of a cultural independence formed the basis for American Lexicography as such, with a deliberate emphasis on the achieved native culture and usages of the ‘new nation’, which itself had already become the target audience of the lexicographic works. However, American English lexicography cannot be described as having gone through the phase of foreign culture lexicography. Instead, it has more of the traits of the native culture lexicography, especially in the struggle to incorporate the culture and usages of the new nation, and not allow them to be subdued by the lexicographic works from ‘outside’ (i.e. the former motherland). The German historical context, on the other hand, is marked by a movement from a Latin dominated bilingual to a German monolingual tradition. Here, there was neither a movement of the population to a new geographical setting like in the North American example nor colonialism by a foreign power as in the Igbo (Nigeria) case. The early period of German lexicography was marked by the struggle for German to emerge out of the shadows of Latin and to convey that which was peculiar in native German usage and culture. In the history of German lexicography one could come across such polemic statements as

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van der Schueren’s “an erster Stelle das Muttersprachliche, danach das lateinische Wort” (¿rst, the mother tongue, thereafter Latin) in his Theutonista vulgariter dicendo Duytschlender (1477) (originally translated into German by Grubmüller 1990: 2042 and cited in Haß-Zumkehr 2001: 48). The periods of agitation in the history of German lexicography can be said to be the phase of native culture lexicography. Only in the 17th Century did German lexicography ¿nally became monolingual, i.e. German headwords could be explained in German (Haß-Zumkehr 2001: 65) and to Germans as the target audience. The American and German examples referred to in passing above seem to indicate that, whether in a monolingual or a bilingual context, the movement towards cultural or political independence can contribute to a shift in the target audience of lexicographic works of a language. Given that Africa also went through a struggle for political independence, it was expected that a similar development be noticed in the history of the lexicography of many African languages. This, unfortunately, was not often the case. There were virtually no trained native speaker lexicographers of these languages to effect a change that could be comparable to the American situation. It is, therefore, not surprising that in spite of the political independence of many African countries; African lexicography did not witness much change in terms of its target audience. According to Busane (1990: 25), the post-independence dictionaries of the different African languages were still written with the implicit objective of inviting the foreigner into the world of the African languages and culture. This amounts to maintaining the same target audience as in the foreign culture lexicography. In the next two sections, it will, however, be seen that while the early lexicographic works of the language also maintained the foreign culture lexicography target audience, the post independence era has had a mixture of political issues that have made it not to ¿t into Busane’s (1990) classi¿cation of the post independence lexicography of African languages.

3.

The target audience of the early lexicographic works on the Igbo language (ca. 1860 – 1940)

In line with the foreign culture approach, the target audience of the early lexicographic works on African languages ranges from a simple mention of the (European) target audience to a description of the usefulness of the lexicographic work to the identi¿ed audience (Hair 1970: 15, cited in Awak 1990: 10). Awak describes these early lexicographic works as ‘Euro-centred’ because they were primarily intended for Europeans who wished to learn the African languages (Awak 1990: 15). This concentration on a European audience can be con¿rmed

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in both the early grammar books as well as the early lexicographic works of the Igbo language. With regard to the early grammar books, the German author, J.F. Schön, makes it clear that his grammar book was meant for “our missionary brethren, with a view to stimulate them to more extensive researches” (Schön 1861: 3 – 4). Spencer’s grammar, originally published in 1892, was reviewed and upgraded by T.J. Dennis and republished in 1923, but without any change in the target audience: “primarily for the use of missionaries” (Spencer 1892 [1923]: vi). Similarly, while Adams’ (1932) A Modern Ibo Grammar was written with the aim of “enabling Europeans working in the Ibo-speaking country to understand and speak the language, thereby introducing them into the native way of thinking” (1932: v), Abraham’s (1962) Principles of Ibo was meant “for specialists”. From these excerpts one can see the target users of the early Igbo grammar books as a wide and variegated audience of European missionaries, administrators, and ‘specialists’. The early lexicographic works on Igbo, divided into word lists and larger vocabulary collections, had a similar European target audience. Koelle’s (1854) description of his Polyglotta Africana, as a means of preparing the way for “preachers of the Gospel” and as a contribution to African Philology (Koelle 1854: v, iv), is representative of the word list group. A good example of the larger vocabularies is Zappa’s (1907) Dictionnaire Ibo-Français that was meant for his fellow French missionaries so that they could preach to the Africans in the language they could understand (Okafor 2005: 311). To this group also belong some explicit anthropological studies with large vocabularies like Thomas Northcote’s (1913) six-volume Anthropological Report on the IboSpeaking Peoples of Nigeria, three of which are “essentially lexicographic” (Williamson 1972: vi). Most of the early lexicographic works on the Igbo language fall within this group. The later works during the post independence era indicate the beginnings of a shift in the target audience.

4.

The target audience of the post independence era (ca. 1959 – 1972)

As mentioned above, it could be easily assumed that the post independence period of African lexicography was inevitably connected to the political struggles the continent went through before acquiring independence. But as the lexicography of many African languages testi¿es, the post independence era is nothing but a political categorization. There was, therefore, no great development in Igbo lexicography during this period. Instead, one was confronted with a mix-

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ture of issues that only make sense if looked at from a general perspective of the interconnection of some events in the history of the Igbo language. The ¿rst Igbo-English bilingual dictionary by a native speaker was Chidozie Ogbalu’s (1959) Igbo-English Dictionary. The author acknowledged that a monolingual Igbo-Igbo dictionary “in which words are explained in Igbo and not in English” (Ogbalu 1959: iii) would have been preferred by most Igbo speakers then, and saw his work as a contribution that needed to be Àeshed out by others in the future. This wish, which is comparable to what the Germans wanted to do, i.e. breaking away from the bilingual German-Latin lexicographic tradition, was never realized (not even after the author’s death towards the end of the last century). His work was like a lone voice in the wilderness; for his gesture was neither reciprocated nor did any native speaker follow his example. This impulse should have led to a native culture lexicography phase. In fact, the next dictionaries from Igbo native speakers only started emerging 30 years later. These are Nnaji (1985) followed more than ten years later by Echeruo (1998) and Igwe (1999). The gap between Ogbalu’s (1959) effort and the three later works can only be explained by a mixture of religious-cum-political developments in Nigeria. First of all, from the late 1920s upwards and for a period of about 33 years, an ‘orthography war’ had been going on between the Protestant Mission and the Catholics within the Igbo cultural region. The ‘war’ was triggered by a proposed change in the Igbo orthography so as to graphically realize some of the sounds of the language, which, without such additions, would simply not be recognized. This attempt was heralded by the colonial linguist, Dr. Ida Ward, and the colonial Superintendent of Education, R.F.G. Adams, as they tried to implement the recommendations of Westermann to the London International Institute of African Languages and Culture (IIALC). In the old orthography, originally designed by the German expert Lepsius for the colonial authorities, the Igbo form izu was meant to represent both ‘to buy’ and ‘to steal’, but in line with the sounds of the language, izu actually means ‘to steal’. In the new orthography it stands for ‘to steal’ while ‘to buy’ is realized as ͓zͭ. The Eastern Nigeria colonial government, the Methodists, and the Catholics adopted the new orthography, but the Church Missionary Society (C.M.S.) stuck to the old orthography. So, as Oraka (1983: 34) says, “That is how the old came to be dubbed the ‘C.M.S.’ orthography and the New the ‘Roman Catholic Orthography’”. The church politics, rivalry and competition further inÀamed and maintained the ‘war’ for about 33 years. But the issue was ¿nally resolved in 1961, when the Onwu Committee worked out an orthography that was satisfactory to the different groups. However, part of the negative effect of the controversy was the dampening of interest to write original works in Igbo. It has indeed

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been con¿rmed that the Igbo native speaker, Chinua Achebe, decided to write his world renowned Things Fall Apart (1958) in English because of the Igbo orthography controversy (www.kintespace.com/kp_emenyonu.html). It was, therefore, a remarkable feat that Ogblau (1959) could still write his Igbo-English Dictionary during this period of the orthography war. Although the Onwu Orthography of 1961 could be seen as having ¿nally created the needed and generally accepted graphic instrument for writing the language, Nigeria’s post independence problems did not create the suitable environment for the use of the orthography. More speci¿cally, the three-year Biafran war (between the Igbo-speaking dominated Eastern Nigeria and the rest of the country) between 1967 and 1970 further contributed to making lexicography a non issue for the native speakers. It is, therefore, not surprising that the available post independence lexicographic works during and immediately after the Biafran war were from non-native speakers. These are Welmers and Welmers’ (1968) Igbo: A Learner’s Dictionary and Williamson’s (1972) Igbo-English Dictionary. That is perhaps why Manfredi and Eze (2001: 328) described the two dictionaries recently in 2001 thus: “To date there are two linguistically adequate Igbo dictionaries”. From this overview it can be concluded that the initial orthography controversy might have resulted in the lack or absence of a ‘post independence lexicography’ of the Igbo language that should have emerged in reaction to colonialism. On the other hand, the conÀicts within Nigeria, which culminated in the Biafran war, simply made lexicographic works by native speakers impossible because the Igbo-speaking Eastern region was under attack and personal survival became more important than ¿ghting for the survival of the community’s language. In the forward to her Igbo-English Dictionary, Williamson (1972: xv) intimates that one of her good Igbo informants had to leave “because of the [war] crisis”. In such a war situation the search for one’s family or fear of being accused of sabotage within the Nigerian territory (where Williamson was doing the lexicographic work) could be one of the many reasons for the departure of the informant. It is for these reasons that the post independence lexicography of the Igbo language was written by non-native speakers. It is in these works that the characterization of the target audience within post independence Igbo lexicography has to be examined. Welmers and Welmers’ (1968) Igbo: A Learner’s Dictionary and Williamson’s (1972) Igbo-English Dictionary are the last two of the Igbo dictionaries by non-native speakers. This dictionary was a Peace Corps primer for Westerners who were mostly involved in charity work during the Biafran war (Manfredi and Eze 2001: 4). As they explain, their dictionary was prepared “primarily for speakers of English who have acquired at least a minimum of competence in

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speaking Igbo, and who are aware of the major structural pattern of Igbo (Welmers and Welmers 1968: i). They targeted a wide linguistic or learner audience made up of speakers of English that cannot be delineated. Williamson’s target users are not much different with regard to their delineation, even though her work was meant to be used in Nigeria. For example, while she explains that her work is “a very tentative beginning in the task of properly charting the lexical riches of Igbo” (Williamson 1972: lxv), the back cover of the book claims that “this book will be useful for schools, colleges and all who are interested in the Igbo language and Igbo culture”. The use of ‘all’ here includes both native and non-native speakers. Finally, from the above overview of the target audience in the post independence works, one could discern a gradual shift away from an external European audience, to an internal, indigenous but still generalized audience. The works by Welmers & Welmers and Williamson differ with regard to how they realize this shift. First of all, both works retain the focus on a generalized audience to a certain degree. Welmers and Welmers’ audience is “speakers of English”, while Williamson’s is “all who are interested in the Igbo language and Igbo culture”. Welmers and Welmer’s characterization of their users is in line with the tradition of an external, Western audience, but Williamson differs by including schools and colleges within Nigeria, thus marking a shift in focus to an internal audience. There is no doubt that “schools and colleges” is a generalized formulation, but the use of the expression by Williamson historically marked the onset of the gradual recognition of Nigerian schools and colleges as the possible target audience for lexicographic works on a Nigerian language. Nevertheless, it can still be seen in the later dictionaries from native speakers that some of them still do appeal to a general and undifferentiated audience, a ‘bekannte Unbekannte’ (Wiegand 1977: 59) (i.e. a familiar stranger).

5.

The target audience of the lexicographic works by native speakers

Although the later dictionaries by native speakers still included a generalized target audience, one can still recognize a gradual concretisation and elaboration of the shift towards an internal audience that started with Williamson (1972). This can be seen in Nnaji’s (1985) Modern English-Igbo Dictionary, Echeruo’s (1998) Igbo-English Dictionary, and Igwe’s (1999) Igbo-English Dictionary. In the preface to his dictionary, Nnaji explicitly describes his audience as “pupils learning English Language in Upper Primary and Lower Secondary Forms in Igbo speaking Nigeria”, as well as “Igbo indigenes who have little knowledge of English”, and “non-Igbo people who want to learn the language”

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(Nnaji 1985: Preface). Nnaji’s audience can actually be divided into two, a primary and a secondary audience. The primary audience is made up of the main target group of Upper Primary and Lower Secondary pupils, while the secondary audience is divided into (1) Igbo indigenes with little knowledge of English, and (2) non-Igbo individuals. Echeruo is not as explicit as Nnaji. In the back matter of his work, IgboEnglish Dictionary, the author identi¿es his target audience as “native and nonnative users of the language”, which is indeed a wide spectrum, similar to the generalized audience of the later postcolonial period. In addition, the expression “users of the language” seems to indicate someone already conversant with the language. This characterization is similar to Welmers and Welmers’ target audience who should already have “a minimum competence in speaking Igbo” or be “aware of the major structural pattern of Igbo”. Igwe’s (1999) focus in his Igbo-English Dictionary is similar to Nnaji’s given that it also targets the academic realm. But more speci¿cally, the target audience is described as (1) a general group of “anybody interested in the Igbo language”, (2) “teachers and students at secondary schools, colleges, and other places of higher learning”, and (3) Igbo language examiners and Igbo examination candidates (Igwe 1999: lvii). Finally, this overview shows that apart from Echeruo’s vague audience, the tendency is towards a more concretely speci¿ed audience. One can con¿rm a shift away from a generalized target audience of the post independence era. Williamson’s “schools and colleges” has become more speci¿ed in line with the Nigerian educational system. Hence, Nnaji’s audience of primary and junior secondary school pupils ¿ts into the lower level of the school system, while Igwe’s users fall within the higher level of secondary schools, colleges, and ‘other places of higher learning’, including the university. This is a positive development that involves a focus on the needs of the lexicographer’s society without the reactionary polemics of the native culture lexicography phase.

6.

Summary and conclusion

This chapter has tried to use the example of Igbo lexicography to explore some of the issues that could arise in connection with a gradual change in the target audience of the lexicographic works of a language. From the discussion above, we could con¿rm a shift away from the initial, exclusively European and wide target audience of the early lexicographic works, through an audience of English linguists and learners, and ¿nally to an audience that seems to align itself with the educational system of Nigeria. This signals a gradual recognition of,

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and greater attention to, the dictionary user. A similar gradual development in the recognition of the importance of the dictionary user has been con¿rmed for European lexicography. Within Europe the dictionary user became progressively more signi¿cant from 1960 onwards, but actual research on dictionary use and dictionary users started around 1980 (Bogaards 2003: 26). It still took a little while before the results of this research were incorporated into later lexicographic works. Thus, Hartmann’s (1989: 104) explanation that serious sociological surveys and analyses are the way to actually take into account “the likely needs of various users in various situations” during the designing of the dictionary has been and is still being taken into consideration in the lexicographic works in some of the European languages (Ripfel and Wiegand 1986, Hulstijn and Atkins 1998). It should not be far-fetched to picture a similar development within African lexicography. The insight from the history of Igbo lexicography is that any such development should start with chronologically examining the characterization of the target audience in the lexicographic works of the language. Only on the basis of such a step can one hope for lexicographic works that are user relevant and that have also gone beyond the eurocentric audience of the early foreign culture lexicography and the polemics of the native culture lexicography.

References Abraham, Roy C. 1962 Principles of Ibo. London: Lowe and Brydone. Adams, R.F.G 1932 A Modern Ibo Grammar. London: Oxford University Press. Algeo, John 1989 American lexicography. In: Hausmann, Franz J. et al. (eds.), pp. 1987 – 2009. Awak, Mairo K. 1990 Historical background with special reference to Western Africa. In: Hartmann, Reinhard K. K. (ed.), pp. 8 – 18. Ayivi, Christian K. 2000 Zweisprachige Lexikographie: Zur Adaptation von Wissen in ewedeutschen und deutsch-ewe Wörterbüchern. Münster: Waxmann Verlag. Busane, Masidake 1990 Lexicography in Central Africa: The user perspective with special reference to Zaire. In: Hartmann, Reinhard K. K. (ed.), pp. 19 – 35.

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Bogaards, Paul 2003 Uses and users of dictionaries. In: van Sterkenburg, Piet (ed.), A Practical Guide to Lexicography. Amsterdam: Benjamins. 26 – 33. Dennis, Thomas J. 1923 Dictionary of the Ibo Language, English-Ibo. Lagos: C.M.S. Bookshop. Echeruo, Michael J. C. 1998 Igbo-English Dictionary. New Haven: Yale University Press. Hair, Paul E. H. 1970 The contribution of early linguistic material to the history of West Africa. In: Dalby, David (ed.), Language and History in Africa. London: F. Cass. 50 – 63. Hartmann, Reinhard R. K. 1989 Sociology of the dictionary user: Hypothesis and empirical studies. In: Hausmann, Franz J. et al. (ed), Vol. I: 101 – 111. Hartmann, Reinhard R. K. (ed.) 1990 Lexicography in Africa. Exeter: University of Exeter Press. Haß-Zumker, Ulrike 2001 Deutsche Wörterbücher. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Hausmann, Franz J. et al. (eds.) 1989 Dictionaries: An International Encyclopedia of Lexicography, Vol. 1. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Hulstijn, Jan H. and Sue B. T. Atkins 1998 Empirical research on dictionary use in Foreign Language Learning: Survey and discussions. In: Atkins, Beryl T. (ed.), Using Dictionaries: Studies of Dictionary Use by Language Learners and Translators. Tübingen: Niemeyer. 7 – 19. Igwe, Egemba G. 1999 Igbo-English Dictionary. Ibadan: University Press Plc. Koelle, Sigismund W. 1854 [1963] Polyglotta Africana. Graz: Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt. Manfredi, Victor and Eze, Ejke 2001 Igbo. In: Garry, Jane and Rubino Carl (eds.) Facts about the World´s Languages: An Encyclopedia of the World´s Major Languages, Past and Present. New York: The H.W. Wilson Company. 322 – 330. Nnaji, Henry I. 1985 Modern English-Igbo Dictionary. Onitsha: Gonaj Books. Okafor, Edwin E. 2005 Francophone Catholic achievements in Igboland, 1883 – 1905. History of Africa 32: 307 – 319. Oraka, Louis N. 1983 The Foundations of Igbo Studies. Onitsha: University Pub. Co.

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Ӑgbalө, Frederick C. 1959 Igbo English Dictionary. (First edition 1959, second edition 1962.) Port Harcourt: C.M.S. (Nigeria) Press. Piotrowski, Tadeusz 2000 Examples: The ragbag of bilingual lexicography. Lexicographica 16: 14 – 24. Ripfel, Martha and Wiegand, Herbert E. 1986 Wörterbuchbenutzungsforschung: Ein kritischer Bericht. Studien zur neuhochdeutschen Lexikographie 6(2): 491 – 520. Schön, James F. 1861 Oku Ibo. Grammatical Elements of the Ibo Language. London: W.M. Watts. Thomas, Northcote W. 1913 Anthropological Report on the Ibo-Speaking Peoples of Nigeria. London: Harrison. Uchechukwu, Chinedu 2006 Grammatiktheorie und Lexikographie: Zu einer Theorie des zweisprachigen Wörterbuchs der Sprachen Deutsch und Igbo. Munich: LINCOM Verlag. Welmers, Beatrice F. and Welmers, Williams E. 1968 Igbo: A Learner’s Dictionary. Los Angeles: University of California. Wiegand, Herbert E. 1977 Nachdenken über Wörterbücher: Aktuelle Probleme. In: Drosdowski, Günther et al. (ed.), Nachdenken über Wörterbücher. Mannheim: Bibliographisches Institut, pp. 51 – 102. Williamson, Kay 1972 Igbo English Dictionary. Benin City: Ethiop Publishing Corporation. Zappa, Carlo 1907 Essai de Dictionaire Français-Ibo ou Francais–Ika (Avec le concours du catechiste Jacob Nwakobia). Lyon: Government Of¿cial Records.

Part IV. Living the postcolonial: Local tongues in ex-colonial languages

Chapter 11 Lexical gap, semantic incongruence, and the medium-of-learning effect: Evidence from ChineseEnglish code-switching in Hong Kong and Taiwan David C. S. Li

1.

Introduction1

There are two prevailing theoretical frameworks explaining motivations behind code-switching (CS): the Markedness Model (e.g. Myers-Scotton 1993, Myers-Scotton and Bolonyai 2001) and conversation analysis (e.g. Auer 1995, W. Li 1994, 2002). Both frameworks have greatly enhanced our understanding of some of the typical motivations behind CS. For example, Myers-Scotton’s (1993) analysis of CS data in East Africa shows convincingly that CS from a local vernacular to a prestigious supranational language such as Swahili and English is very commonly found in situations marked by a clear power differential, as in interactions between employer and employee, gate-keeper and visitor. Conversation analysis has shown that sometimes language choice in bilingual interactions may index the speaker’s dispreference when responding to a question raised in a different language (W. Li 1994). Notwithstanding these insightful contributions, there is one theoretical issue which to my knowledge has not been dealt with satisfactorily: by postulating that some social motivation or discourse-analytic factor is at work during CS, it is tacitly assumed that whatever the referential meaning(s) of an embedded language element, there exists a semantically and stylistically congruent counterpart – ‘translation equivalent’ – in the matrix language, such that referential meaning could be regarded as constant. But is this always the case? The validity of this tacit assumption has been called into question (D. Li 1999, 2001). 1. The work described in this chapter was entirely supported by a Competitive Earmarked Research Grant ‘CityU 1241/03H’. I would also like to thank the generous and useful comments on an earlier draft of this paper by a number of colleagues, in particular Rodney Jones, Angel Lin, Matthew Peacock and Ken Rose. I alone am responsible for any inadequacies that remain.

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The literature abounds with examples from different multilingual contexts where lexical borrowing is semantically motivated. On problems of referential equivalence across languages, see for example French-English (Grosjean 1982: 336); German-English (Berns 1992: 158); Japanese-English-Chinese (Honna 1995: 46); and Cantonese-English (D. Li 2001, Li and Tse 2002). A concern for referential meaning is arguably one of the most salient factors triggering CS. Lexical gaps in the matrix language are perhaps the most obvious types of evidence whereby intra-sentential CS is so dif¿cult to avoid, for example, unplugged, skyline, present (v.), presentation, and project (n.), for which there is as yet no satisfactory translation equivalent in Chinese (D. Li 2001; cf. Chen and Carper 2005). But even where a translation equivalent appears to exist, there is no guarantee that the speaker is aware of it at the moment of speaking or writing. It may be that the speaker is forgetful, tired or nervous. It is also conceivable that despite the existence of a putative equivalent, the speaker ¿nds it unsatisfactory because it carries additional, albeit unwanted, associations. This is one of the ¿ndings in Li and Tse’s (2002) experimental “purist” study, in which 12 English majors were asked not to use English for one day, the main objective being to see to what extent English was considered necessary and desirable in context-speci¿c social interaction with others (for more details on methodology, see below). In one instructive example, a female participant (F3) wanted to invite a friend to play wargames with her in the countryside. The idiomatic translation of wargame in Cantonese is ㇻ慶㇘ġ(daa35 je23 zin33, literally ‘¿ght wild battle’).2 In addition to that meaning, however, it is well-known that this Cantonese expression is commonly used in soft-porn literature (typically written in vernacular Cantonese) alluding to some illicit sexual activity. It so happened that F3’s invitation was made to a male friend. To abide by the arti¿cial Cantonese-only rule of speaking, she invited him to ‘¿ght wild battle’ with her, which turned out to be a great embarrassment for both. As she explained at the focus group discussion, she would have used the code-mixed expression ㇻġwargame (daa35 wargame) if she had not been inÀuenced by that arti¿cial, ‘no-Englishallowed’ rule of speaking. Examples such as these suggest that one important motivation behind CS is to avoid unwanted semantic loss or gain. In sum, there is considerable evidence in the literature to make a strong case for further scru2. Chinese morpho-syllables intended to be read in Mandarin are transliterated in Pinyin; those which are meant to be read in Cantonese are represented using Jyutping (䱝㊤), the Romanization system of the Linguistic Society of Hong Kong (http:// cpct92.cityu.edu.hk/lshk/Jyutping/). The two numbers in the superscript indicate tone contour.

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tinizing semantically motivated CS (D. Li 2001), with a view to examining how it articulates with the prevailing theoretical frameworks. This paper reports ¿ndings obtained from an experimental study, which show that referential meaning across languages cannot be assumed to be constant in CS research. Where there is (perceived) semantic and/or stylistic discrepancy between the target words in the embedded language and their putative translation equivalents in the matrix language, CS may be more adequately explained by the bilingual speaker’s attempt to avoid unwanted semantic loss or gain. One special case involves academic jargon and technical terms learned or introduced in English. The ubiquity of CS between Cantonese and English in informal interactions among Chinese Hongkongers is particularly interesting in view of the fact that they are under tremendous inhibition not to use English entirely among themselves (D. Li 2008, D. Li 2010). Rather than analyzing CS as Hong Kong Chinese bilinguals’ conscious strategy to enact a Chinese-cumwestern identity (see, e.g., Pennington 1998), the ¿ndings presented in this chapter suggest that, through English-dominant education, English continues to exert tremendous inÀuence in the local vernaculars of postcolonial societies such as Hong Kong SAR (Special Administrative Region).

2.

Data, methodologies and predictions

The research design of this comparative study draws on three methodologies: the ethnomethodological technique of ‘breaching’ or ‘revelation through disruption’ (Gar¿nkel 1967), language diary (Gibbons 1987), and focus group interview (see, e.g., Lunt and Livingstone 1996, Stewart and Shamdasani 1990). Earlier studies in sociolinguistics and anthropology found that speakers are not always conscious of their language use patterns. When asked whether, and if so, under what circumstances they would use a particular language variety, bilingual informants’ self-report data tended to be inaccurate and unreliable (see, e.g., Blom and Gumperz 1972, Gumperz 1972, Gumperz and Hymes 1972). This explains why in sociolinguistic research in the last three decades, little attempt has been made to include speakers’ metalinguistic comments about their own language behavior as a source of data. It is in this regard that Gar¿nkel’s (1967) technique of ‘breaching’ or ‘revelation through disruption’ proved to be extremely useful and productive. By disrupting the normal patterns of language use through some arti¿cial rule of speaking, this technique obliges the participants to reÀect on what they perceived as actually happening in contextually ‘rich’ situations. It has proved to work very well in Li and Tse’s (2002) experimental study, where 12 Cantonese-

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speaking English majors at City University of Hong Kong were asked (i) not to use any English for one day; (ii) to reÀect on the reasons why they wanted to use English in context-speci¿c situations with the help of a proforma which helped them to record key contextual information regarding ‘who speaks what to whom and when’ (compare Appendix I); and (iii) to participate in a focus group interview two days after the experiment. Very instructive ¿ndings were obtained. Practically none of the 12 participants were able to prevent at least some English expressions from cropping up when interacting with friends and peers on the day of the experiment. Among other things, they con¿rmed that where no negotiation of identity was involved, the typical motivation behind their wish to use English while interacting with others was out of a concern for referential meaning. In particular, they were either unable to ¿nd a suitable and satisfactory referential equivalent in Cantonese (i.e. due to a lexical gap in their mental lexicon), or, where an equivalent appeared to exist, they were concerned that the meaning was somewhat different from what they wanted to express (see, e.g., daa35 je23 zin33 vs. daa35 wargame discussed above). The data reported in this chapter were collected for a project designed to replicate the Li and Tse (2002) study. The experiment took place at three universities: two in Taiwan and one in Hong Kong. A total of 108 students participated in the experiment (65 in Taiwan, 43 in Hong Kong). For one day, they were asked to: (a) speak only their local, dominant community language (Mandarin in Taiwan, Cantonese in Hong Kong); (b) keep a record of speech events specifying ‘who speaks what to whom and when’ with the help of a proforma (soft copy sent to all participants by email before the experiment; see Appendix I); (c) write a reÀective diary (up to two pages) in a language of their choice and, when completed, send it to the investigators in the form of an email attachment; and (d) take part in a focus group discussion attended by participants studying the same discipline, sharing their experiences and views on the reasons behind their preferred language choice in context-speci¿c situations. At each site of investigation (Dong Hwa University, Hualien; Chengchi University, Taipei; and City University of Hong Kong), a brie¿ng was held in the evening before the day of the experiment, where detailed instructions were given and participants’ questions clari¿ed. The rationale behind the study was vaguely disguised as ‘a comparative study of tertiary students’ language use patterns in Taiwan and Hong Kong’. All participants were rewarded with a

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modest hourly remuneration. An overview of their major disciplines and numbers is presented in Table 1. Table 1. The number of student participants and their major disciplines at each of the 3 universities University and date Student participants’ major discipline of the experiment

No. of participants

National Donghwa University, Hualien, Taiwan (7 December 2003)

Chinese majors [DC] English majors [DE] Science / Technology / Engineering majors [DS] Business / Economics / Marketing majors [DB]

9 8 8 8

National Chengchi University, Taipei, Taiwan (13 December 2003)

Chinese majors [CC] English majors [CE] Psychology majors [CP] Business / Economics / Marketing majors [CB]

8 8 8 8

City University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong SAR (6 January 2004)

Chinese majors [HC] English majors [HE] Science / Technology / Engineering majors [HS] Business / Economics / Marketing majors [HB] Psychology majors [HP]

8 9 9 7 10

Total

108

In terms of language choice, there is a clear difference between participants in Taiwan and their counterparts in Hong Kong. Given that the majority of educated Hong Kong Chinese are Cantonese-English bilinguals, that arti¿cial rule of speaking in effect obliged the participants to use only Cantonese (cf. Li and Tse 2002). In contrast, since a majority of the student participants in Taiwan have Minnan Hua, Hakka or an Aboriginal language as their main home language in addition to Mandarin (the national language) and English which they learned in school, being obliged to use only Mandarin would mean that they should make every effort to prevent elements of their home language and English from cropping up in their conversation. The experiments proceeded smoothly. Participants’ reÀective diaries received by email were analyzed thematically with a view to extracting contextually rich descriptions and reÀective commentaries, which were then adapted anonymously into a list of rich points grouped under speci¿c headings serving as stimulus material for discussion by the focus group in question. During the focus group discussion, participants were invited to elaborate on the rich points they documented, while others were encouraged to share their views by citing

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similar or different experiences. With the participants’ consent, all the focus group discussions were video- and audio-recorded. Data thus consisted of two main sources: 108 language diaries and the transcriptions of 13 focus group interviews. In terms of coding, the diary data were ¿rst processed carefully and inductively, allowing for recurrent themes or categories to emerge emically. The identi¿ed categories were then coded inductively and exhaustively with the help of MAXqda, a Windows-compatible software which is especially user-friendly for the multiple coding of selected text segments. To optimize inter-coding reliability, all the 13 focus group transcriptions were coded independently by the research associate and me. Where differences or omissions occurred in the process of coding, they were resolved through clari¿cation and, if necessary, by making slight modi¿cations to the inventory of the coding categories (e.g., change in wording of existing categories, addition of sub-themes to given categories, or creation of new categories). In this way, a total of 63 sub-themes organized under 12 broadly de¿ned categories have been identi¿ed.3 In this study our focus is on the participants’ own words to account for the main reasons why they code-switched in context-speci¿c situations. Of relevance to this paper are three recurrent sub-themes under the category “Linguistic motivations of CS”: (a) A lack of translation equivalent: participants reported that CS was triggered by a lack of translation equivalent, or the improvised translation / circumlocution (in Mandarin in Taiwan, Cantonese in Hong Kong) failed to get across the intended meaning. 3. The 12 categories are: (a) What happened during and after the experiment (b) Language use patterns (c) Language choice with speci¿c groups (d) Linguistic motivations of code-switching (e) Other motivations of code-switching (f) Types of code-switching expressions (g) Attitudes / perceptions toward language use patterns (h) Where no code-switching occurs (i) Comments about medium of teaching and learning (j) Factors impacting on community language use patterns (k) Read aloud materials in another language (l) Language in the mind The focus of this chapter – lexical gap, semantic or stylistic incongruence, and the ‘medium-of-learning effect’ – are sub-categories under (d): ‘Linguistic motivations of code-switching’.

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(b) The putative translation equivalent is semantically infelicitous: participants reported that while a translation equivalent appeared to exist, it was semantically infelicitous or inappropriate in speci¿c contexts. (c) Metalinguistic comments on the ‘¿rst-impression hypothesis’ or ‘mediumof-learning effect’: participants attributed their CS to English in part to the cognitive salience of English terms as a result of encountering them ¿rst in English, or as a consequence of learning the related concepts through the medium of English. Owing to space constraints, this study will only draw on the diary data. When analyzing the diary data, care was taken to cross-check the focus group discussion data for consistency and elucidation where appropriate. Below are three key predictions based on the ¿ndings of Li and Tse (2002): (1) All participants will be inconvenienced to some extent by being arti¿cially prevented from using any language other than their dominant community language. (2) Despite conscious monitoring, elements from languages other than their respective community languages cannot be entirely suppressed, resulting in CS. (3) When the participants want to code-switch but are prevented from doing so due to the arti¿cial rule of speaking, linguistic motivations, especially a lack of semantically and/or stylistically congruent ‘translation equivalents’, account for the majority of the cases.

3.

Results

3.1.

The lack of translation equivalent

It is important to note that the analysis is based on the participants’ self-report data. In other words, when a participant claims that some speci¿c instance of CS was triggered by a lack of translation equivalent, it may or may not be accurate. This is because the participant may not be aware that there exists a dictionary equivalent, or that a fairly widely used translation exists. For example, one Hong Kong science major (HSM2) improvised the translation of FYP (‘¿nal year project’) as 㚨⼴ᶨ⸜⟙⏲ġ(zeoi33 hau22 jat55 nin21 bou33 gou33), which sounded very strange to his interlocutors. HSM2 was not the only one who had problems expressing FYP in Cantonese. When chatting about school work with peers, many CityU students in Hong Kong – whatever their discipline – found

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it impossible to avoid using this term, which is a graduation requirement of all undergraduate degree programmes. While the Chinese translation certainly exists somewhere (e.g. in programme documents and the Chinese page of the CityU website), it clearly did not have any currency among CityU students. Another Hong Kong participant (HSM3) reported wanting to say ‘log in’ but could not; he ended up saying 㲐Ⅎ (zyu33 caak33) instead of the standard equivalent in Chinese Windows: 䘣ℍ(dang55 jap22). However, inaccuracies in the participants’ perception is methodologically not a problem, for what matters for our purpose is their own awareness and perception which guided their code choice in context. Table 2 gives the number of participants who made such a claim in their reÀective diary. Table 2. Number of participants who claimed that CS was due to a lack of translation equivalent, or the improvised translation / circumlocution failed to get across their intended meaning Discipline

Dong Hwa U Taiwan

Cheng Chi U Taiwan

CityU of Hong Kong

Total

Business

6 (8) / 75 %

6 (8) / 75 %

6 (7) / 85.7 %

18 (23) / 78.3 %

Chinese

3 (9) / 33.3 %

4 (8) / 50 %

6 (8) / 75 %

13 (25) / 52 %

English

3 (8) / 37.5 %

4 (8) / 50 %

3 (9) / 33.3 %

10 (25) / 40 %

Psychology

–

5 (8) / 62.5 %

4 (10) / 40 %

9 (18) / 50 %

Science

4 (8) / 50 %

–

3 (9) / 33.3 %

7 (17) / 41.2 %

Total

16 (33) / 48.5 %

19 (32) / 59.4 %

22 (43) / 51.2 %

57 (108) / 52.8 %

Note: The number within brackets indicates the total number of participants in the group.

One domain in which English clearly prevails is electronic communication mediated by personal computers and the internet. Table 3 shows a subset of the English expressions which are frequently used in e-communication or computer applications, for which the participants claimed that there were no usable translation equivalents. Or, the expression in question was suppressed, but then the improvised translation or circumlocution in Chinese resulted in communication problems (those highlighted were mentioned by more than one participant):

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Table 3. A subset of English terms in the domain of e-communication which participants wanted to use but could not Taiwan

CD player, .net (‘dot net’), email, Excel, Google, hinet, html, ICQ, msn, power DVD, TRPG, URL, USB, Word, yahoo, yahoo messenger

Hong Kong CD-ROM, download, Google, hard disk, ICQ, Internet Explorer, log in, mouse, Netscape, print (v.), save, send email, sms, speaker, windows media player, website

It can be seen that the Hong Kong e-communication word list (types rather than tokens) is not only longer than the Taiwanese counterpart; it also consists of nouns (including noun groups) and verbs denoting word processing commands: download, log in, print, save, and send. This is not the case in the Taiwanese word list, which consists of only substantives. After cross-checking the focus group discussion data with Taiwanese participants (n=65), however, it became clear that word-processing commands such as click, delete, highlight and print were also heard and used occasionally, but apparently not as frequently compared with their Chinese equivalents àn (㊱), shƗnchú (⇒昌), fănbái (⍵䘥) and yìn (⌘), respectively. This is in sharp contrast with the language preference of bilingual Hong Kong Chinese learners, who typically refer to wordprocessing functions directly in English. To what extent such free variation is a community-wide or idiosyncratic practice in Taiwan remains unclear. There is clearly room for further research in this area. What seems certain is that, when the conversation touches upon e-communication, the pressure to code-switch to English is higher among Hong Kong participants than among their Taiwanese counterparts. A parallel pattern is found with regard to English abbreviations used for e-learning. Since most universities in Taiwan make use of a Bulletin Board System (abbreviated as ‘BBS’ in speech) for e-communication between staff, students and the school administration on the intranet, it is understandable why the acronym ‘BBS’ is so indispensable when reference is made to various aspects of e-communication on campus. Over half of the 65 Taiwanese participants mentioned how inconvenient it was when they were prevented from using ‘BBS’ with friends and peers. Similar remarks of inconvenience were mentioned by most CityU participations when discussing CityU-related topics with their classmates, but the range of English expressions cited is considerably larger (those highlighted were mentioned by more than one participant). For example:

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– add-drop referring to the adding or dropping of courses; may be used as verb or noun – AIMS: pronounced as [eims]; ‘Academic Information Management System’ – AWW: pronounced as [ei dnp dnp]; abbreviated title of the course ‘Advanced Writing Workshop’ – BACH: pronounced as [ba:t6]; abbreviated title of undergraduate programme ‘Bachelor of Arts in Chinese’ – BATI: pronounced as [ba:ti]; abbreviated title of undergraduate programme ‘Bachelor of Arts in Translation and Interpretation’ – CAPP: pronounced as [kep]; ‘Curriculum, Advising and Programme Planning’ – CSC: ‘Computer Services Centre’ – e-portal: name of the intranet for CityU staff and students – FMO: ‘Facilities Management Of¿ce’ – FYP: ‘Final Year Project’ (graduation requirement of all undergraduate Programmes at CityU) – GPA: Grade Point Average

Many of the English words that participants wanted to use but could not are high-frequency vocabulary words, especially nouns and verbs, in English for Academic purposes (EAP). One Hong Kong Chinese major (HCF3), for example, reported how inconvenient it was when she could not use English at a meeting with other fellow students. She cited a fairly long list of English words. According to HCF3, all of these words had no usable, satisfactory equivalent in Chinese, which is why she felt greatly inconvenienced and found it such a pain. She went on to state one instructive example concerning the improvised translation of ‘pair up’, which sounded awkward to herself as well as her interlocutors:4

4. Examples of diary input in Chinese will be translated into English by the author and presented in a two-panel format.

Lexical gap, semantic incongruence, and the medium-of-learning effect 1 㘂ᶲ攳Ḯᶨᾳ㚫嬘ĭġ 忁㚫嬘⮵ㆹἮ婒㗗㤝彃劎䘬ĭġ⚈䁢 㚫嬘ᷕㆹ㚱㚜⣂ㄋ䓐䘬劙婆ᶵ傥 䓐ĭġἳ⤪ˬmention˭ˣ ˬidea˭ˣ ˬtraining˭ ˣˬrun˭ ˣ ˬmaterials˭ˣˬfocus˭ˣˬpair up˭ˣˬsuppose˭ ˣˬmiss˭ ˣ ˬrange˭ˣˬworkload˭ˣ ˬkeep˭…….⮯⬫Ᾱ䓐⺋㜙 娙婒↢ἮĭġᶨἮㆹ奢⼿⼰ᶵ 㕡ὧĭġḴἮㆹ奢⼿㝸ṃ娆䘬 劙㔯䘤枛㭼ᷕ㔯Ἦ⼿㚜枮 ⎋ˤ㚱ṃ娆嬗ㆸ⺋㜙娙ĭġ䛇 䘬⼰⿒ĭġἳ⤪ˬpair up˭嬲ㆸ ˬ䳬ㆸᶨ昲˭ĭġ䷥奢⼿⿒⿒ 䘬ĭġ⇍Ṣ倥崟Ἦ㖶䘥ĭġỮṾ Ᾱ䘬堐ね⎬䔘…… (HCF3)

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In the evening we had a meeting, which was really a pain to me, because there were many common English terms that I could not use, such as ‘mention’, ‘idea’, ‘training’, ‘run’, ‘materials’, ‘focus’, ‘pair up’, ‘suppose’, ‘miss’, ‘range’, ‘workload’, ‘keep’…. To render them into Cantonese, I found it inconvenient on the one hand; on the other hand, the English pronunciation sounded more smooth to me. Some of these words sounded really odd when translated into Cantonese. For example, it was very strange to replace ‘pair up’ with zou35 sing21 jat55 deoi22 [‘literally ‘form a team’]. Others might understand [what I was trying to say], but their facial expressions varied…”

Terms of address in English constitute another area where some Hong Kong participants felt that the putative Chinese equivalent was less appropriate. Thus one major of translation and interpretation in Hong Kong (HCF8) reported being inconvenienced by not being able to address her lecturers in English using ‘title plus last name’, for example, Dr. Sin, Dr. Cheng. Such a practice appears to be less common in Taiwan. 3.2.

The putative translation equivalent is semantically infelicitous

Apart from a lack of translation equivalent in the bilingual’s mental lexicon, a perceived lack of semantic congruence between the English term and the putative translation equivalent in Chinese is also thematized in many participants’ reÀective diaries, including situations where no problem was encountered. Thus HCF5 pointed out that the English terms ‘selling point’ and ‘hard sell’ were suppressed and replaced with 岋溆ġ (maai22 dim35) and 䠔扟ġ (ngaang22 siu55), respectively, without triggering any communication problem. Similarly, a business major in Taiwan reported having no dif¿culty replacing ‘calories’ that she usually used with its Chinese counterparts, ⌉嶗慴ġ (kƗlùlƱ) or 䅙慷ġ (rìlìang):

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2 …ᶨ凔ㆹᾹ悥⼰佺ㄋ䓐ġ calorie Ἦ婒䅙慷ĭġ⯌℞⛐㷃偍 䘬㗪῁悥婒ˮ恋ᶨ栆㜙大ᶵ天 ⎫ġcalorie ⼰檀ˤ˯⎗㗗忁ṃ 性⃵ᶵ䓐婒劙㔯怬⎗ẍĭġ䓐 “⌉嶗慴”ˣ“䅙慷” Ἦẋ㚧悥怬 埴䘬忂ˤ(DBF6)

…[We] usually say calorie when referring to rìlìang, especially when on diet; [we] would say “don’t eat that kind of thing, [for] the calorie is very high. But it is not a problem using [its] Chinese [equivalent] kƗlùlƱ or rìlìang instead.

This example suggests that some Chinese translations of the English terms, be it transliteration or translation, or both, have been integrated into the mental lexicon of Chinese-English bilinguals, though the extent of integration in the local speech community remains unclear. However, there were many more participants who reported that, while a translation equivalent of a term in English or Mandarin appeared to exist, very often it was dispreferred because it was perceived as semantically infelicitous or stylistically incongruent. One high-frequency example is the translation equivalent of email: 暣⫸悝ẞġ (diànzi yóujiàn / din22 zi35 jau21 gin35), which reportedly has little currency among the participants in Taiwan and Hong Kong alike (cf. Li and Tse 2002). Where the availability of a translation equivalent was thematized, the participant typically showed awareness of, or thought that he or she knew, what the equivalent was, before explaining why it was dispreferred. For example, one engineering major in Taiwan pointed out why he had wanted to use the term ‘voltage regulator’ because its Chinese translation had hardly any currency among his peers. He also commented that the Chinese equivalent diànyƗ tiáozhƟng qì was more wordy and ‘not as smooth’: 3 …⮰柴⟙⏲ᷕ㚱姙⣂暣㨇柀 ➇䘬⮰㚱⎵娆, ⁷㗗Ⱦvoltage regulator”, ㆹ㚫゛䚜㍍⾝↢ Ἦ, ⚈䁢ᷕ㔯侣嬗⼴䘬⎵䧙, “暣⡻婧㔜☐”⼰⮹Ṣ䓐, ⫿㔠ḇ⼰攟, デ奢ᶵ⣒枮⎋, 侴ᶼ 䘤䎦嫃娙忇⹎嬲⼰ㄊ, 㭷㫉 天嫃⮰㚱⎵娆㗪, 悥天⿅侫ᶨ ᶳ忁ᾳ娆⼁䘬ᷕ㔯侣嬗, ㇵ 傥嫃↢Ἦˤ(DSM8)

…in the special report there are many terms speci¿c to mechanical engineering, like ‘voltage regulator’, I wanted to say that directly, because few people use its Chinese translation ‘diànyƗ tiáozhƟng qì’, it’s wordy and doesn’t sound so smooth; and (I) discovered that (my) speaking pace is slower, for every time a technical term occurs, (I) need to think what its Chinese translation is before saying it out.

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Table 4 gives an overview of the number of participants who made explicit mention (at least once) that the translation equivalent of a target word in English or other Chinese varieties than Mandarin led to some form of communication problem. In some cases, this awareness was arrived at after the participant failed to use the putative translation equivalent; in other cases, the putative translation was used, but communication was adversely affected in some way. Table 4. Number of participants who claimed that a translation equivalent might exist but it was semantically infelicitous or inappropriate in speci¿c contexts

Discipline Business Chinese English Psychology Science Total

Dong Hwa U Taiwan 4 (8) / 50 % 4 (9) / 44.4 % 2 (8) / 25 % – 5 (8) / 62.5 % 15 (33) / 45.4 %

Cheng Chi U Taiwan 2 (8) / 25 % 3 (8) / 37.5 % 6 (8) / 75 % 1 (8) / 12.5 % – 12 (32) / 37.5 %

CityU of Hong Kong 1 (7) / 14.3 % 4 (8) / 50 % 6 (9) / 66.7 % 8 (10) / 80 % 4 (9) / 44.4 % 23 (43) / 53.5 %

Total 7 (23) / 30.4 % 11 (25) / 44 % 14 (25) / 56 % 9 (18) / 50 % 9 (17) / 52.9 % 50 (108) / 46.3 %

Note: The number within brackets indicates the total number of participants in the group.

One instructive example regarding a lack of semantic congruence between an English expression and its translation ‘equivalent’ in Chinese concerns a casual remark made by a Hong Kong participant (HCF8) majoring in translation and interpretation on a psychologically ‘heavy’ topic (see example 4). That remark was uttered in order not to violate the Cantonese-only rule of speaking. In so doing, however, she felt an acute sense of discomfort because the improvised Cantonese ‘equivalent’ made her appear rude, resulting in unwanted semantic loss or gain, and regret.

228 4

David C. S. Li ㆹᾹᶨ䎕奒⍳婯⇘か ᶲ㛒㛇䗴䕯ㅱ㉙ỽ䧖 ゛㱽(…)ĭġᶨỵ旧⦐婒 天Ⱦㇻ⭂廠㔠ȿĭġ䁢冒 ⶙幓⼴ḳ ⭂⬱㌺ĭġ嬻 ⭞Ṣ⤥彎ˤㆹ␴⎎ᶨỵ 旧⦐娵⎴ĭġ忁㗗朊⮵䎦 ⮎ĭġ䧵㤝ㅱ嬲䘬㕡㱽ˤ ㆹᾹ᷎ᶼ娵䁢`劍傥 ⣯帇⛘㳣⣂⸦⸜ĭġ⶚㗗 ⸠忳ˤ侴ㆹ㛔゛婒ġȾ⶚ 䴻Ὢġbonus”ĭġỮ㚨䳪⎒ 傥婒 “⶚䴻ᾦ⣂Ἀ”ˤ 晾䃞 “ᾦ⣂Ἀ” シ⿅ ⶖᶵ⣂ĭġỮㆹ奢⼿㚱溆 䰿欗ˤ㇨ẍ⌛ἧシ⿅堐 忼⇘ĭġデ奢⥳䳪㚱⇍ˤ (HCF8)

I was sharing views with a number of relatives about patients suffering from cancer and who are terminally ill. One auntie said ‘[we had better] be prepared to lose the battle’, and [we] should make arrangements for what happens after [we] pass away. Another auntie and I agreed; [we] have to face reality, and come to terms with the inevitable. We also thought that if we could survive a few more years, we would be lucky. [On this point] I originally wanted to say ji23 ging55 hai22 bonus [‘already a bonus’]; but in the end I could only say ji23 ging55 bei35 do55 nei23 [literally ‘already giving you (something) in excess (of what you are entitled to)’]. Although bei35 do55 nei23 has a similar meaning, still I feel a little rude. Hence even though the meaning was gotten across more or less, [I] somehow feel that there is a difference [in meaning].

There are several similar reported instances of unwanted semantic loss or gain in the diary data. Such examples, together with those where participants made explicit reference to a lack of a usable translation equivalent, constitute strong evidence that referential equivalence of a given term in English (or for that matter, in any language or language variety) is not always assured. This lends empirical support to the observation that CS is sometimes due to the bilingual’s concern for referential meaning (cf. D. Li 1999, 2001, Li and Tse 2002). 3.3

Metalinguistic comments on the ‘¿rst-impression hypothesis’ or ‘medium-of-learning effect’

In addition to lexical gap in the bilingual’s mental lexicon and a perceived lack of a semantically congruent translation equivalent, more compelling evidence is constituted by the participants’ metalinguistic comments on the reasons for their inability to speak only Mandarin or Cantonese. Where English expressions popped out despite active self-monitoring, a few participants postulated that the cognitive salience of English terms might be a natural result of the ‘¿rst impression’ being in English. For example: 5

Ἀ䫔ᶨ㫉倥䘬⎵⫿㗗劙㔯, 䫔 ᶨ⌘尉⯙㚫㗗劙㔯…ġ(DCF3)

The ¿rst time you heard the term, it was in English, so your ¿rst impression [of that term] will be in English…

Lexical gap, semantic incongruence, and the medium-of-learning effect 6

㚱ṃ㜙大ᶵ䓐劙㔯婒⮵㕡⎗ 傥怬倥ᶵㅪ, ⁷㗗㺧ⷠ䓐⇘䘬ġ “BBS” , “VCD”, “MSN” , “CPU” , “ID” , 䫱䫱,䘤䎦忁ᶨ 栆⸦᷶悥㗗劙㔯䷖⮓⼴䘬⎵ 䧙, ⣏⭞⎗傥⽆䫔ᶨ㫉䞍忻㝸 㧋㜙大㗪, ⬫⯙㗗ẍ劙㔯䘬✳ ⺷↢䎦, 救⋿婆㕡朊㚱ṃḇ㗗 㚱䚠⎴䘬ね㱩, ⁷㚱ṃ⎫䘬㜙 大䘬⎵䧙⯙㗗⼰暋侣ㆸ⚳婆 䘬…ġ(DSM2)

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There are certain things that, if you don’t use English, others may not understand, like those terms that we use quite often: ‘BBS’, ‘VCD’, ‘MSN’, ‘CPU’, ‘ID’, etc., mostly English abbreviations; probably the ¿rst time we encounter them, they are in English. The same is true of some expressions in southern Min, like local snacks and delicacies; [this is why] it is very dif¿cult to translate them into Mandarin [satisfactorily].

Interestingly, according to some other participants, the cognitive salience resulting from the ¿rst impression helped account for the reason why the putative Chinese equivalent of an English term was relatively opaque. Thus one English major in Taiwan (CEF1) explained why it never occurred to her to refer to the Chinese equivalent of the word ‘syllabus’, because that word was used by the professor from day one of the course: 7 ⎎ᶨᾳἳ⫸㗗⣏⬠婚䦳䘬ˬ婚 䦳⣏䵙堐˭ㆾˬ㔁⬠忚⹎堐˭ ---ᶨ⻝䫔ᶨ➪婚㗪㔁㌰㚫䘤 ᶳἮ䘬㔜⬠㛇婚䦳忚⹎䘬 堐, ㆹᶨ䚜悥⎓⬫ġ “syllabus”, 䓂军㰺⍣゛Ṿ䘬ᷕ 㔯⮵䄏婒㱽, ⚈㬌䡘⇘⢾䲣䘬 ⎴⬠ṾᾹ倥ᶵㅪ⼴, ㆹㇵシ嬀 ⇘䃞⼴ㇵ⍣娊⓷℞Ṿ⎴⬠Ᾱ 䘬婒㱽ˤ (CEF1)

Another example is the ‘kèchéng dàgƗng biăo’ or ‘jiàoxúe jìndù biăo’ – a progress chart of the whole semester distributed by the professor at the ¿rst lecture. I have always called it ‘syllabus’, and never thought about how it is called in Chinese; hence it was only when classmates from other departments had dif¿culty understanding [this term] that I realized [the need to] ask how [syllabus] is expressed [in Chinese] by others.

A very similar point was made by a business major in Hong Kong (HBM4) with regard to the technical terms ‘sample size’ and ‘pilot test’ when talking to a lecturer: 8

during our conversation, I couldn’t avoid using some English words to express my meaning. Like when she asked about my progress in the research, I had to say something related to my sample size, pilot test, etc. I really don’t know what the Chinese words are for sample size and pilot test, so I didn’t mention this and just [kept] talking about something related to it or directly using the English words although I knew it violated the rule of this experiment. (HBM4)

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Likewise, a science major in Hong Kong (HSF5) reported that she had never thought about using the Chinese equivalents of ‘mentors’ and ‘mentees’, because the two concepts were always referred to in English: 9

we are mentors from Mentoring Scheme. We have never thought about the Chinese words of mentors and mentees. Although these words are very easy, we will never call these names in Chinese. (HSF5)

One particularly instructive example comes from a non-Cantonese-speaking exchange student from mainland China, who had been in Hong Kong only for four months at the time of the experiment. As she explained in her reÀective diary written in Chinese (simpli¿ed characters), before coming to Hong Kong she had rarely found it necessary to insert English words into her Mandarin. But after studying at CityU for only four months, she found it dif¿cult to avoid inserting English words of various lengths into her Mandarin, a surprising change in her everyday language use patterns that she became aware of after this experiment. One example of an English term that she gave is an abbreviated course title generally known to CityU staff and students as CCIV (pronounced as C-C-I-V), which stands for ‘Chinese civilization’ – a term that she cited as evidence in support of her ‘¿rst impression hypothesis’: 10 ⻻ᶨ᷒Ṣ䫔ᶨ㫉㍍妎ᶨ᷒㕘 孵㯯㗗䓐劙㔯㖞ĭġ⇁征᷒孵䔁 ⛐Ṿ傹㴟ᷕ䘬⌘尉⯙㗗劙 㔯ĭġẍ⎶ἧ䓐劙㔯㜍堐彦征᷒ 孵䘬㛢Ể㭼弫⣏ṃˤġἳ⤪Ļġ ㆹ䫔ᶨ㫉㍍妎⇘Ⱦᷕ⚥㔯⊾ᷕ ⽫ȿ䘬宦䦳㖞ĭġ⯙㗗ȾCCIV”ĭġ ⇁⛐ẍ⎶䘬堐彦ᷕㆹᶨ䚜ἧ 䓐ġ“CCIV”㜍堐彦ĭġ㛔㫉⭆樴 㗗ㆹ䫔ᶨ㫉䓐ᷕ㔯㜍堐彦ĭġ朆 ⷠᶵḈ゗ĭġᶵ冒䃞. (HEF9)

When a person ¿rst encounters a new term in English, the impression of this term in that person’s mind will be in English, and so later the chance of using that English term will be higher. For example, the ¿rst time I came across the course zhǀngguó wénhuà zhǀngxƯn [literally ‘Chinese Civilization Centre’] is ‘CCIV’. After that, I have always used ‘CCIV’ to refer to that course. [In] this experiment I used the Chinese term [of this course] for the ¿rst time, [which is] unnatural and [I am] not used to it at all.

In effect, what these participants were saying amounts to the same observation made by the participant F4 in Li and Tse’s (2002: 174) earlier study, namely, sin55 jap22 wai21 zyu35 (⃰ℍ䁢ᷣ), or ‘the ¿rst one who entered is the master’. There is thus prima facie evidence suggesting that when a new concept is introduced in a speci¿c language, the concept will subsequently be cognitively mediated and retrieved through that language. This ‘¿rst-impression hypothesis’ may be stated as follows:

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When a concept C is ¿rst encountered in language X, then C tends to be cognitively mediated through the language X (Cx), even if a direct translation of C is subsequently encountered in language Y (Cy).

This helps explain why Cx tends to be cognitively more salient than Cy. Now if Y is the matrix language (Mandarin or Cantonese in this study), the insertion of C in X (English) will result in (intra-sentential) CS. Of course, more empirical research is needed to ascertain the validity of the ‘¿rst-impression hypothesis’. It is, however, interesting to note that this hypothesis was generated emically by a number of participants after they had undergone the arti¿cial Cantoneseonly or Mandarin-only experiment for one day. One recurrent activity in which the ‘¿rst-impression hypothesis’ reportedly prevails is learning through the medium of English. Quite a few participants suggested that their CS to English was often a direct result of learning content subjects through English. This is especially true of those participants from Hong Kong who had undergone English-medium teaching and learning from secondary school onwards. For example: 11 …what we learnt and were taught in schools are in English. We all have a better understanding and good command of English and even more understanding than Cantonese. So, it is unavoidable in using English to have a communication with others. As a result, we always mix some English words in Cantonese or vice versa. (HEM2) 12 since I started learning computer, I haven’t come across any Chinese terms. So, when I was suddenly asked to speak only Cantonese, I found it very hard to get rid of saying some English during my explanation. (HEM3)

This point is nicely illustrated by a few instructive examples in our data. Some English majors in Taiwan obviously had come across the English term ‘codeswitching’ before. This is probably why this term (and the verb ‘switch’ as well) occurred in two participants’ reÀective diary: 13 忁ḇ㗗ᶨ溆ㆹ奢⼿㚫䓐⇘ġ code-switching 䘬⍇⚈ĭġ昌Ḯ 㕡ὧ佺ㄋĭġ㚱ṃ㗪῁䫔ᶨ⍵ㅱ ⯙↢䎦㝸ᶨ䧖婆妨ĭġḇ奢⼿⽫ 墉゛䘬天䓐忁䧖婆妨ㇵ傥堐 忼䘬㵳㺻䚉农ĭġ䓐ᷕ㔯䘬娙ĭġ ⎗傥䃉㱽恋湤䡢↯堐忼冒⶙ 䘬デ⍿ĭġ㇨ẍㇵ㚫ġswitch ⇘⎎ ᶨ䧖婆妨…ġ(CEF2)

I think this is another reason why I will use code-switching. Apart from convenience and habit, sometimes a particular language ¿gures in my immediate response, feeling that what I want to say can only be adequately expressed in this language; if I use Chinese, perhaps I won’t be able to express my inner feelings so precisely; this is why I switch to another language…

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14 ℞⮎ㆹ䛇䘬ⷠⷠ ġ code-switching ⓲…晾䃞ᶵ㗗㓭 シ䘬ĭġᶵ忶奢⼿㚱㗪忁㧋嫃 娙㚫㭼庫㳩⇑ĭġᶵ㚫㚱塓旸⭂ ỷ䘬デ奢ˤġ(CEF1)

As a matter of fact, I often do code-switching… although not on purpose, but [I] feel that sometimes saying things in this way will be more Àuent, [and that I] won’t feel constrained [in what I say].

These examples point to a ‘medium-of-learning effect’ (cf. ‘the learning effect’, Gibbons 1987), an important factor at work in topic-speci¿c Chinese-English CS. It helps explain why technical terms in English are so dif¿cult to avoid. Table 5 lists the number of participants who mentioned the ‘¿rst-impression hypothesis’ or the ‘medium-of-learning effect’ as one explanation of their cognitive dependence on English terminologies. Table 5. Number of participants who attributed their CS in part to the ‘¿rst-impression hypothesis’ or the ‘medium-of-learning effect’

Discipline

Dong Hwa U Taiwan

Cheng Chi U Taiwan

CityU of Hong Kong

Total

Business

0 (8) / 0 %

0 (8) / 0 %

2 (7) / 28.6 %

2 (23) / 8.7 %

Chinese

1 (9) / 11.1 %

1 (8) / 12.5 %

1 (8) / 12.5 %

3 (25) / 12 %

English

1 (8) / 12.5 %

2 (8) / 25 %

4 (9) / 44.4 %

7 (25) / 28 %

Psychology

–

2 (8) / 25 %

4 (10) / 40 %

6 (18) / 33.3 %

Science

2 (8) / 25 %

–

3 (9) / 33.3 %

5 (17) / 29.4 %

Total

4 (33) / 12 %

5 (32) / 15.6 %

14 (43) / 33 %

23 (108) / 21.3 %

Note: The number within brackets indicates the total number of participants in the group.

It can be seen that Taiwanese participants (9 out of 65, or 13.8 %) are clearly outnumbered by Hong Kong participants (14 out of 43, or 32.6 %). This is understandable to the extent that more English is used in universities in Hong Kong – both as a medium of teaching and learning as well as school administration – compared with their Taiwanese counterparts. This pattern is also reÀected in the language choice of the participants’ reÀective diaries: over 44 % of the Hong Kong participants (n=19) opted to write their diary in English, whereas the number of Taiwanese participants who chose English for their diary-writing is negligible (3 out of 65; see Table 6).

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Table 6. Number of diaries written in English

Discipline

Dong Hwa U Cheng Chi U Taiwan Taiwan

CityU of Hong Kong

Total

Business

0 (8) / 0 %

1 (8) / 12.5 %

2 (7) / 28.6 %

3 (23) / 13 %

Chinese

0 (9) / 0 %

0 (8) / 0 %

2 (8) / 25 %

2 (25) / 8 %

English

2 (8) / 25 %

0 (8) / 0 %

5 (9) / 55.6 %

7 (25) / 28 %

Psychology

–

0 (8) / 0 %

5 (10) / 50 %

5 (18) / 27.8 %

Science

0 (8) / 0 %

–

5 (9) / 55.6 %

5 (17) / 29.4 %

Total

2 (33) / 6.1 %

1 (32) / 3.1 %

19 (43) / 44.2 %

22 (108) / 20.4 %

Note: The number within brackets indicates the total number of participants in the group.

The above analysis shows that the use of English as the medium of teaching and learning is one important factor behind Chinese-English CS in Hong Kong, and to a lesser extent in Taiwan. A substantial part of English lexical items that occur in Chinese-English CS in Hong Kong and Taiwan are technical terms or academic jargon taught or introduced to students in English, resulting in cognitive salience with regard to the relative ease with which cognitive retrieval of these terms takes place. This psycholinguistic CS motivation, which is widely attested in our data, is topic-speci¿c (cf. ‘topical regulation of language choice’, Fishman 1972: 439) and is clearly a consequence of the medium of learning, hence the ‘medium-of-learning effect’. Fishman’s (1972) insightful observation is worth quoting at length: The implication of topical regulation of language choice is that certain topics are somehow handled ‘better’ or more appropriately in one language than in another in particular multilingual contexts. However, this greater appropriateness may reÀect or may be brought about by several different but mutually reinforcing factors. Thus, some multilingual speakers may ‘acquire the habit’ of speaking about topic x in language X (a) partially because this is the language in which they are trained to deal with this topic (e.g., they received their university training in economics in French), (b) partially because they (and their interlocutors) may lack the specialized terms for a satisfying discussion of x in language Y, (c) partially because language Y itself may currently lack as exact or as many terms for handling topic x as those currently possessed by language X, and (d) partially because it is considered strange or inappropriate to discuss x in language Y. (Fishman 1972: 439 – 40; emphasis in original)

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In a footnote on the same page, Fishman explains point (b) further as follows: This effect [i.e. lacking the specialized terms for a satisfying discussion of x in language Y] has been noted even in normally monolingual settings, such as those obtaining among American intellectuals, many of whom feel obliged to use French or German words in conjunction with particular professional topics. English lexical inÀuence on the language of immigrants in the United States has also been explained on topical grounds. (Fishman 1972: 439)

4. Discussion and conclusion With the help of Harold Gar¿nkel’s (1967) ethnomethodological technique of ‘breaching’ or ‘revelation through disruption’, we are able to tap into the metalinguistic awareness of bi- and multilingual speakers regarding the reasons why they feel the need to code-switch in context-speci¿c situations. It is a valuable source of data to the extent that the question ‘why do bilinguals code-switch?’ cannot be adequately researched without including the code-switchers’ own voices and views in the data for triangulation purposes (cf. Ten Have 2004: 180 – 181). In the past, self-report data tended to be dismissed because it was believed that speakers lacked the linguistic awareness needed to describe their own patterns of language use accurately (Blom and Gumperz 1972). The research design of this study, however, shows that qualitatively reliable selfreport data can be obtained provided the subjects’ metalinguistic awareness has been raised in regard to their code choice in context-speci¿c situations. To this end, the complementary methodologies – revelation through disruption, language diary and focus group interview – have been shown to be very productive. Regarding the motivations of CS, existing explanatory frameworks tend to emphasize either social motivations or discourse-analytic factors. In both frameworks, it is tacitly assumed that referential meaning may be held constant when switching between languages. The ¿ndings in this comparative study, however, suggest that such an assumption is not always warranted. One special case is switching that involves technical concepts acquired or introduced in a particular language – in this case, English. There is plenty of evidence in our data showing that our participants are either unaware of the Chinese equivalents of ¿eld-speci¿c technical terms in question, hence a lexical gap in their mental lexicon. Or, where such translation equivalents appear to exist, they are perceived as ‘not saying the same thing’ owing to a lack of semantic congru-

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ence. This is further compounded by a consideration of the (improvised) translation having little or no currency in the local speech community. This study has also found prima facie evidence of a ‘¿rst-impression hypothesis’, whereby a new concept C encoded and introduced in language X tends to be cognitively mediated and retrieved as Cx, even though the same concept is subsequently encountered in another language Y (Cy). This helps explain the cognitive salience of Cx vis-à-vis the relative opacity of Cy (if it exists). CS will result when instances of Cx and other technical concepts in X occur in the middle of a conversation in language Y. According to our data, one recurrent activity in which the ‘¿rst-impression hypothesis’ reportedly prevails is teaching and learning through the medium of English, resulting in a ‘medium-of-learning effect’ (cf. Gibbons 1987). This CS motivation has received considerable support in this study, where many participants provided logically sound ¿rst-person accounts of the reasons why they found certain English terms they had learned earlier cognitively more salient – and thus so dif¿cult to avoid – compared with their Chinese equivalents (if they existed). In sum, this study has furnished strong empirical evidence in support of Gibbons’s (1987) original observation that CS may be the direct result of Englishmedium education (‘the learning effect’). Such a motivation was con¿rmed and reported by many student participants themselves in their own words (¿rst in diaries, then in focus group discussions) after they had undergone a one-day experiment requiring them to use only Cantonese or Mandarin. The mediumof-learning effect is particularly revealing in the analysis of CS that involves academic topics in informal interactions between university students in Hong Kong and Taiwan. It should be noted that the CS motivations discussed in this study – lexical gap in the bilingual’s mental lexicon, perceived semantic incongruence between an original English term and its putative translation equivalent in Chinese, and the medium-of-learning effect – tend to prevail in informal interactions between educated Chinese friends and peers where little or no negotiation of identity is at stake. They constitute three more or less discrete reasons why CS is perceived as the unmarked code choice (cf. Myers-Scotton 1993). In short, the three predictions based on Li and Tse’s (2002) one-day experiment are all supported in this replication study, especially linguistic motivations of CS, suggesting that referential meaning cannot be bracketed off as constant when investigating CS motivations in bilingual interaction. What do linguistic motivations of CS among educated Chinese bilinguals tell us about the global hegemony of English in a postcolonial society like Hong Kong SAR? We have seen that, when the conversational topic touches upon their school experience or the formal learning of any content subject

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taught through the medium of English, bilingual Chinese Hongkongers tend to ¿nd it dif¿cult to avoid using at least some English in their informal interactions among themselves. In particular, technical jargon of a content subject taught and learned through English – from Medicine to Computing to Fine Art; from Physics to Economics to Linguistics – tend to be irresistible in the middle of Cantonese, which then assumes the role of the ‘matrix’ code in CantoneseEnglish CS. This point was already observed in Gibbons’ (1987) language diary study of several dozens of Chinese students studying at the University of Hong Kong. He referred to this CS motivation as ‘the learning effect’. Over two decades later, a very similar ‘medium-of-learning effect’ is attested among university students in Hong Kong (to a lesser extent in Taiwan; cf. Li and Tse 2002). What is remarkable is that the ubiquity of Cantonese-English CS is in stark contrast with Hong Kong Chinese bilingual’s reluctance to use English entirely for intra-ethnic communication. Rather than indexing a complex Chinese-cum-western identity, as some scholars have argued (e.g., Pennington 1998), I believe the ¿ndings in this study, in particular the medium-of-learning effect, provide strong evidence of the continued global hegemony of English in the realm of higher education in the postcolonial era (cf. Ammon 2001, Phillipson 1992, Skutnabb-Kangas 2000). Finally, in terms of what we can learn from patterns of language use in postcolonial societies, the prevalence of and dependence on English among educated Hong Kong Chinese when conversing among themselves in Cantonese-English ‘mixed code’, especially on matters related to academic study, is one of the clearest indicators of Hong Kong’s British colonial heritage. It can be traced to two main sociolinguistic factors. First, English has been an of¿cial language (alongside Chinese since 1974) for over 150 years. Second, more importantly, as a correlate of the emergence of English as the dominant language of higher education from natural science to humanities, an important part of being educated in the increasingly globalized world entails knowledge of and competence in using a large amount of ¿eld-speci¿c vocabulary, which tends to be invoked among bilingual speakers of English when conversing in their local vernacular. This linguistic and psycholinguistic phenomenon, which has been observed since Gibbons (1987) with regard to Cantonese-English codeswitching in colonial Hong Kong, is clearly borne out by one important ¿nding of this empirical study in the postcolonial era: the medium-of-learning effect – albeit to different extents in Hong Kong and Taiwan as a result of how deeply English has penetrated into the local education domain. Since July 1, 1997, Hong Kong has been re-nationalized and become a Special Administrative Region of China (HKSAR). Postcolonial subjects’ dependence on English, which is largely mediated by the medium-of-learning effect

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as attested in this study, shows that linguistically Chinese Hongkongers could hardly relinquish their colonial masters’ language – so long as higher education and learning takes place substantially in that language. Somewhat ironically, however, the majority of educated Chinese Hongkongers are acutely aware that, how well they fare in their struggle to go up the social ladder depends in no small measure on how well they are able to appropriate their former colonial masters’ language and blend it into the vernacular they know better (D. Li 2002). In this light, Cantonese-English mixed code may be seen as a linguistic artifact of Hong Kong’s British colonial heritage.

References Ammon, Ulrich (ed.) 2001 The Dominance of English as a Language of Science. Effects on other Languages and Language Communities. Berlin & New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Auer, Peter 1995 The pragmatics of code-switching: A sequential approach. In: L. Milroy and P. Muysken (eds.), One Speaker, Two Languages: Cross-disciplinary Perspectives on Code-switching. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 115 – 135. Berns, Margie 1992 Bilingualism with English as the mother tongue: English in the German legal domain. World Englishes 11: 155 – 161. Blom, Jan-Petter and Gumperz, John J. 1972 Social meaning in linguistic structure: Code-switching in Norway. In: J. J. Gumperz and D. Hymes (eds.), 407 – 434. Chen, Katherine and Carper, Gray. 2005 Multilingual Hong Kong: Presentᶨᾳġproject. www.foryue.org. Fishman, Joshua 1972 Domains and the relationship between micro- and macro-sociolinguistics. In: J. J. Gumperz and D. Hymes (eds.), 435 – 453. Gar¿nkel, Harold 1967 Studies in Ethnomethodology. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall. Gibbons, John 1987 Code-mixing and Code Choice: A Hong Kong Case Study. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Grosjean, François 1982 Life with Two Languages: An Introduction to Bilingualism. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

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Gumperz, John J. 1972 Introduction. In: J. J. Gumperz and D. Hymes (eds.), 1 – 25. Gumperz, John J. and Hymes, Dell (eds.) 1972 Directions in Sociolinguistics. The Ethnography of Communication. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, Inc. Honna, Nobuyuki 1995 English in Japanese society: Language within language. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 16: 45 – 62. Li, David C. S. 1999 Linguistic convergence: Impact of English on Hong Kong Cantonese. Asian Englishes 2: 5 – 36. Li, David C. S. 2001 L2 lexis in L1: Reluctance to translate out of concern for referential meaning. Multilingua 20: 1 – 26. Li, David C. S. 2002 Hong Kong parents’ preference for English-medium education: Passive victims of imperialism or active agents of pragmatism? In A. Kirkpatrick (ed.), Englishes in Asia. Communication, Identity, Power and Education. Melbourne: Language Australia. 29 – 62. Li, David C. S. 2008 Understanding mixed code and classroom code-switching: Myths and realities. New Horizons in Education 56 (3): 17 – 29. Li, David C. S. 2010 Improving the standards and promoting the use of English in Hong Kong: Issues, problems and prospects. In: Anwei Feng (ed.), English Language Use and Education across Greater China. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Li, David C. S. and Tse, Elly C. Y. 2002 One day in the life of a ‘purist’. International Journal of Bilingualism 6: 147 – 202. Li, Wei 1994 Three Generations, Two Languages, One Family: Language Choice and Language Shift in a Chinese Community in Britain. Clevedon and Philadelphia: Multilingual Matters. Li, Wei 2002 ‘What do you want me to say?’ On the Conversation Analysis approach to bilingual interaction. Language in Society 31: 159 – 180. Lunt, Peter and Livingstone, Sonia 1996 Rethinking the focus group in media and communications research. Journal of Communication 46 (2): 79 – 98. Myers-Scotton, Carol 1993 Social Motivations for Codeswitching: Evidence from Africa. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

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Myers-Scotton, Carol and Bolonyai, Agnes 2001 Calculating speakers: Codeswitching in a rational choice model. Language in Society 30: 1 – 28. Pennington, Martha (ed.) 1998 Language in Hong Kong at Century’s End. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press. Phillipson, Robert 1992 Linguistic Imperialism. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Skutnabb-Kangas, Tove 2000 Linguistic Genocide in Education – or Worldwide Diversity and Human Rights. Mahwah, NJ. and London: Lawrence Erlbaum. Stewart, David W. and Shamdasani, Prem N. 1990 Focus Groups: Theory and Practice. Newbury Park: Sage. Ten Have, Paul 2004 Understanding Qualitative Research and Ethnomethodology. London: Sage.

Chapter 12 Lamnso’ English: A study in ethnic variation in Cameroon English Bonaventure M. Sala

1.

Introduction1

The English language stands today as one indelible legacy for countries that experienced British colonisation, and the new ecologies for the language have resulted in the appropriation of the language, not only by individual nations, but by particular regions and peoples within the countries. McArthur (1998: 505) states that “there are as many Indian Englishes as there are languages in India.” The Indian experience is similar to the Cameroonian, where sub-varieties of Cameroon English abound, tied to particular local languages. Evidence also shows that, conversely, English has also inÀuenced local languages, as it is the case in Atechi (2006a), where young speakers of Awing, one of the many local languages in Cameroon, tend to anglicise erstwhile localised English loans in that language. The effect of English on local languages and that of local languages on English are natural processes in any language contact situation. In the life cycle of English in these new nations, scholars (e.g. Schneider 2007) have often mentioned the fact that English is transported, implanted, nativised and differentiated socially as it grows local roots by being adopted and appropriated. This last step is particularly important in this study: studying a subvariety presupposes that the umbrella variety has been determined somewhat. The range and web of variation in the English language in the world today is becoming denser. This is due to the fact that, with the increased role played by the language in the world and with the increase in the number of its users, those appropriating it tend to adapt it to their speci¿c social and discoursal contexts. Despite the geographical spread of English (cf. Kubota 2001: 48), every country, ethnic group, social class, region and even individual using English can be 1. This chapter is culled in part from a dissertation I presented to The Higher Teacher’s Training College, ENS, University of Yaounde I in 1999 in view to obtaining the Post-graduate teachers’ diploma, DIPES II.

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associated with at least a particular variety of English. While at the regional level, sections of continents can boost of sub-continental norms; and individual countries, of national norms, intra-regional homogeneity is rare. Considerable research has been carried out on mainstream Cameroon English (henceforth CamE) phonology (see Simo Bobda 1993, 1994, 1997, Simo Bobda and Mbangwana 1993, Kouega 2000, Atechi 2004, 2006b, Ngefac 2008a, 2008b). Yet in Cameroon, apart from CamE, which itself is still moving towards standardisation, there are many other sub-regional varieties that are the subject of current research in the country. This is the case with Lamnso’ English (see Yusimbom 1992, Dzelambong 1996, Ndzenyuy 1997 and Fonyuy 2003), Moghamo English (see Masanga 1983), Wimbum English (see Tamfuh 1989), Bafut English, Kom English, Akoose English and so forth. These internal varieties are differentiated both regionally and socially and stand in a continuum with mainstream CamE as described in Mbassi-Manga (1973: 1), Simo Bobda (1993: 441) and Ngefac (2008a). The existence of CamE, and then these sub-regional varieties, is a direct2 result of the encounter between English and other languages. Amongst these sub-regional varieties, Lamnso’ English seems to be the most talked-about among Cameroonians. It is also one of the least properly analysed both by researchers (as seen below) and the Cameroonian public. The study of sub-regional and ethnic varieties in CamE is important, ¿rst, because they make up the rich cultural diversity that characterises English in the world today. Second, it is the selective total of some of their idiosyncrasies that constitutes what can be called mainstream CamE. Finally, their individual idiosyncrasies, which allow only for ethnic identi¿cation, and not identi¿cation as Cameroonian, seem to me to be what should be called the basilectal variety of CamE pronunciation. This, in a way, settles the procedural worry about where to cut the line in a continuum. Hence, Àanked by the basilectal and the acrolectal varieties, the common core of CamE is the mesolectal variety. This chapter therefore provides a re-analysis of some two most noticeable features in the Lamnso’ speakers’ English pronunciation, a well-known and talked-about ethnic variety of English in Cameroon. With the help of a frequency test conducted on primary school pupils in Nso’ and of substrate evidence from Lamnso’, the chapter clari¿es the unexplained post-nasal alternation of [i] and [e]. It is seen that, contrary to erstwhile assumptions by some research2. Note that contrastive explications in CamE, taken nationally, suffer from the problem of determining which particular language out of the 248 languages has inÀuenced it. But at the ethnic level, one can clearly say that a particular local structure accounts for a particular output in English.

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ers, there is no rule that converts /i/ to [e] after nasals in the English speech of Lamnso’ speakers, but [i] tends to be more recurrent in that environment. It is also shown that the realisation of Cameroon English [o] (or RP [ԥփ]) as [u] is not an instance of negative transfer from the mother tongue, but that of transfer of training. Generally, the study reaf¿rms the fact that both contrastive and non-contrastive approaches complement each other in the thorough explication of variants in the New Englishes and shows that the Lamnso’ speaker’s phonological features can be traced predictably from Cameroon English and not from British English, contrary to the assumptions in previous works on Lamnso’ English. I also postulate a phonological model for tracing Cameroonian ethnic varieties of English from mainstream Cameroon English.

2.

Sociolinguistic background of Lamnso’ speakers’ English

Lamnso’ is the language spoken by Nso’ people in Bui Division in the North West Region of Cameroon. Bui Division is made up of ¿ve Sub-Divisions out of which Lamnso’ is spoken in three, namely, Kumbo, Jakiri, and Mbven SubDivisions. According to Chem-Langhee and Fanso (1997: 43), the Nso’ kingdom covers an area of about 2,500 square kilometers and has a population of about 250,000 people. This is a very substantial number when one considers the fact that Cameroon, with its estimated 19 million inhabitants, has about 248 languages. In the country, Lamnso’ speakers’ English (henceforth LSE) is one of the most referenced sub-variety, especially within educated circles. The LSE variety is problematic not only because it is the source of inferiority complex for its users but also because it occasionally poses problems of intelligibility to other Cameroonians. One can imagine a situation where “meet” and “met” are realised as homophones either as [met] or [mit] and how the non-Lamnso’ listener will be lost because s/he will not know whether it is the in¿nitive (meet) or the past tense (met) that the speaker is using. In the same light, if “meeting” and “mating” are rendered homophonous as [metiƾ], an announcement over the radio like the following will be ridiculous: “Members of parliament will be m[e]ting this afternoon …” By applying conscious effort, most educated LSE succeed in suppressing some of their features. Yet, on most occasions, usually in a free and relaxed atmosphere, what Selinker (1972: 36) calls “backsliding” takes place, and the features resurface. Phonological traits have become an element of identi¿cation of Lamnso’ speakers of English because they betray their origin. Practical experience has proved that, from the point of view of acceptability, this subvariety is rated low in Cameroon. Other Cameroonian users of English are in

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the habit of attributing most phonologically divergent performances in English to this variety. A lot of myths surround this problem in Cameroon. Researchers have attempted a description of the problem and have not hesitated to attribute its source to negative transfer from Lamnso’ as other educated Cameroonians do. In overtaxing the contrastive approach, they have overlooked the non-contrastive approach, which could further explicate some facets of the problem. In this way, researchers have made faulty assumptions about the causes of LSE performance. Dzelambong (1996: 43), after Yusimbom (1992), states that the alternation of [i] and [e] in LSE speech is due to a rule where, /i/ becomes [e] after nasals. He gives the following examples: Example 1 Token word meat knee neat meal mean

LSE [met] [ne] [net] [mel] [men]

RP [mit] [ni] [nit] [mil] [min]

As concerns the realisation of CamE [o] as [u], Dzelambong (1996: 45) states that the problem is a question of RP [ԥ8] being monophthongised into [u], yielding [hum], [lud] and [pus] for “home”, “load” and “post” respectively. Also accounting for the LSE data, Ndzenyuy (1997: 83) comes up with the following rule, which he calls “the vowel lowering rule” written as follows: Example 2 Ndzenyuy’s Vowel Lowering Rule [+syllabic] ĺ [-high]/ [+nasal ] ___ +high -low

The rule states that a high vowel becomes one step lower when it follows a nasal consonant. The rule implies that if the underlying vowel in that environment is [i], and when the lowering rule applies, it becomes [e]. He claims that this rule accounts for the articulation of “meat” as [met] and “minute” as [menet] and of “mood” as [mod] and “news” as [njos], since in the latter case [u] is lowered to [o]. A number of controversial issues arise from the above statements that call for re-analyses. First, Dzelambong’s (1996: 43) rule and Ndzenyuy’s (1997: 83) vowel lowering rule do not adequately explain the problem. Both of them do not see the case of name being pronounced [nim], or instances of [i] occurring after nasals. Far from being a problem of [i] occurring between na-

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sals, there are also other cases, like Mary pronounced [miri], where [i] is used. While Dzelambong’s (1996) mean is pronounced [men] and me pronounced [me], LSE also say [min] for men and [mi] for may/May. This chapter revisits these inadequacies by hypothesising the following contrastive and non-contrastive facts. First, the problem is not with Ndzenyuy’s (1997) rule but with the neutralisation of those sounds after nasals. Second, it demonstrates that the [u]-for-[o] problem cannot be explained using the interference hypothesis. So, if mood is pronounced as [mod], a different phenomenon accounts for it.

3.

Methodology

A list of thirty words (see example 4 below) was drawn up according to the following linguistic environments: Example 3 (a) [+nasal] ------ [open syllable] (b) [+nasal] ------ [+nasal] (c) [+nasal] ------ [stop] (d) [+nasal] ------ [fricative] (e) [+nasal] ------ [liquid]

The list was presented to thirty informants. The thirty informants were made up of pupils in the upper classes of primary school and students of lower classes of secondary school. They were selected using the following criteria: – They had to have Lamnso’ as their mother tongue; – They needed to be able to read out the words on the list submitted to them; – They had to be, at most, in form two in a secondary school in Kumbo, where Lamnso’ is spoken; and – They had to be willing to co-operate. Twenty of the informants were Class Seven pupils in a primary school in Kumbo Sub-Division, that is, Government School Mbveh. They were just two months away from their end-of-course of¿cial examinations, that is, The Government Common Entrance into Secondary Schools and the First School Leaving Certi¿cate examinations. They were subjected to a strict test in front of a recorder. In this situation, they were conscious and what they gave was what they believed to be their best. Hence, the data collected represents those very fossilised areas that the informants’ awareness could not conceal. It was

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necessary and more enriching to choose less educated informants to read out the words because they do not yet have the ingenuity to revise their pronunciations according to circumstances, as the socially-conscious, educated informant would do in a similar situation. Example 4 is a list of words presented to the informants. I have provided their RP and CamE transcriptions in order to signal the types of divergence recorded among the LSE speakers. Example 4 Word me may menthol main many member name meat met mate meet neat need net make negotiate message next maize measure mix melon melt meal kneel mill nail Mary merry merit

RP [mi:] [meI] [mİnșol] [meIn] [mİni] [mİmbԥ] [neIm] [mi:t] [mİt] [meIt] [mi:t] [ni:t] [ni:d] [nİt] [meIk] [nIgԥ86ieIt] [mİsiG=] [nİkst] [meIz] [me=ԥ] [mIks] [mİlԥn] [mİlt] [mi:l] [ni:l] [mil] [neIl] [mİԥrI] [mİri] [mİrit]

CamE [mi] [me] [mİntol] [men] [mİni] [mİmba] [nem] [mit] [mİt] [met] [mit] [nit] [nid] [nİt] [mek] [nİgo6iet] [mİsİG=] [nİks] [mez] [me=o] [miks] [mİlon] [mİl] [mil] [nil] [mil] [nel] [mİri] [mİri] [mİrit

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The problem with [i] and [e]

According to Dzelambong (1996: 43), /i/ is realised as [e] after nasals in LSE speech. This can be formalised as follows: Example 5 /i/ĺ [e] / [+nasal]---

This study shows that [i] also occurs in LSE speech in the same environment. There is therefore an alternation in the use of both sounds. From this premise, the frequency test that I conducted was aimed at ¿nding out the more recurrent sound between [i] and [e]. The following results were obtained from the vertical counting of [i] and [e] sounds per informant. By vertical counting here is meant the number of times a particular informant used [i] and [e] for the words tested (see the appendix for details). The numbers in example 6 therefore represent informant codes. Example 6

Vertical Counting (expressed in the ratio of [i]:[e]) e.g.,

Informant (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10)

[i]:[e] 25:5 16:14 20:10 16:14 23:7 29:1 19:11 25:5 12:18 23:7

Informant (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20)

[i]:[e] 18:12 23:7 18:12 15:15 15:15 26:4 17:13 19:11 17:13 26:4

Informant (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30)

[i]:[e] 19:11 9:21 11:19 25:5 19:11 28:2 11:19 14:16 21:9 8:22

Since this is only a frequency test of a more recurrent sound, the analyses ignore what CamE sounds are in the various underlying segments of the words. Consideration is only taken of the fact that CamE [i] and either [e] or [İ] have constituted the input in the selected words and that the LSE has processed the input to yield a new output. It is ¿rst of all necessary to observe that the 21 words in example 4 have either [e] or [İ] under the CamE column, giving a ratio of 9 [i] sounds to 21 [e] sounds. If these 21 words were presented to my informants, then the lower limit expected for [e] or [İ] would be 21 and that if the rule in example 5 were applied, all the remaining words with [i] would be realised as either [e] or [İ], resulting in 30 LSE words with either [e] or [İ]. But when we look at the corpus, generally, and inspect the vertical counting of [i]

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and [e] occurrences in example 6, expressed in ratios for each informant, we see clearly that the Lamnso’ speaker is more likely to choose [i] than [e] after nasals when speaking English. This clearly contradicts earlier research. The results can be summarised in the following table: Table 1. Results of vertical counting of [i] and [e] words Tokens of sound in words

Number of informants Tokens of [i]-sounds used

Tokens of [e]-sounds used

0 – 10

2

11

11 – 20

17

17

21 – 30

11

2

Total

30

30

The table provides three columns. The ¿rst column provides three brackets of the number of times the sounds recur in the data from the informants, viz. 0 to10 times, 11 to 20 times and 21 to 30 times. The second and third columns demonstrate the value [i] or [e] have per bracket of recurrence. When we consider the ¿rst row, only 2 informants used [i] for less than 10 recurrences and that up to 11 of them used [e] or [İ] for this bracket. This shows that there are more [e] sounds within this bracket. Row 2 shows that 17 informants used [i] for between 11 and 20 recurrences and that [e] equally registered 17. Finally, row 3 shows that up to 11 informants used [i] for between 21 to 30 times and that only 2 did so for [e]. This shows that there are more [i] sounds for this bracket. A closer look at the table reveals that the number of informants in the [i] column increases with the increase in the number of recurrences, that is, the smaller the number of recurrences of [i], the smaller the number of informants and vice versa. The reverse is true with the number of informants in the [e] column. It is in inverse proportion with the increase in the number of recurrences of [e]. This means that fewer informants use [e] many times and vice versa, and that more informants use [i] many times. This alone is indicative of the fact that [i] is more recurrent after nasals in LSE speech, contrary to the ¿ndings of previous research. If an informant pronounced all the 30 words following the ratio of 9 [i] sounds to 21 [e] sounds, then he was free from LSE traits. Example 6 above shows that no such ratio was registered. This means that the informants either overused the one or the other sound or simply struck a balance between them. This phenomenon further highlights the problem. It is also worth while to highlight some of those typical environments in which [i] is most frequent so as to

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see if a rule could be arrived at from such an effort. This is achieved from the horizontal counting of [i] and [e] words as seen in example 7. By horizontal counting is meant the number of times [i] or [e] occurred per word tested. Example 7

Horizontal counting (expressed in the ratio of [i]:[e])

Word me may menthol main many member name meat met mate meet neat need net make

[i]:[e] 27:3 22:7 29:1 18:11 23:7 21:9 20:10 18:12 18:12 10:17 24:6 21:9 24:6 15:15 19:11

Word negotiate message next maize measure mix melon melt meal kneel mill nail Mary merry merit

[i]:[e] 26:4 28:2 12:18 17:13 28:2 18:12 25:5 9:21 15:15 21:9 19:11 20:9 6:23 7:23 7:23

From the study of the above words, a cherished environment for the occurrence of [i] seems to be the post-nasal one, that is, when the word ends in an open syllable as seen in the scores registered by me and may. Other typical environments include [+nasal]-[+nasal] (as seen in the scores of menthol, many, member and name), [+nasal]-[sibilant] (message, measure and maize), and [+nasal]-[liquid] (melon and nail). But, surprising though it may be, words in which one would expect [i] to occur like meal and mill (even in CamE) instead scored very low [i] results. This is the case of melt (9:21), meal (15:15) and mill (19:11). The environment in which [i] is least frequent, as seen in the data, is [nasal-roll] since Mary, merry and merit score the least results: 6:23, 7:23, and 7:23 respectively. At this level, it is possible to propose that [i] is a more recurrent sound after nasals than [e], and that predicting its occurrence from the sound that follows it does not yield much advantage because in the same environment, the one word will score high [i] results and the other will score low ones. The number of informants using [i] is in inverse proportion to those using [e], irrespective of the distribution of the two sounds in English. The next question is: Why do [i] and [e] alternate after nasals in LSE speech? I postulate that evidence from Lamnso’, the ¿rst language of LSE, provides some explication for the problem. Though [i] and [e] are phonemes

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in Lamnso’, they lose their distinctive qualities after nasals as demonstrated in example 8 below: Example 8

Word li’ le’ mindzԥv mendzԥv niim neem

Gloss ‘prohibit’ ‘run’ ‘water’ ‘water’ ‘sleep’ ‘sleep’

This rule is formalised as example 9 below: Example 9 In Lamnso’, [i] and [e] are neutralised after nasals.

If we take example 9 to represent the competence of the Lamnso’ speaker, then, we can assume that it is this competence that the LSE transfer into English; and that, such a transfer is negative, leading to errors. However, this transfer of competence from Lamnso’ into English could also be positive, placing the LSE closer to RP than other speakers of CamE as shown in example 10. Example 10 Word Women medicinal melodic negotiate

CamE [wimİn] [mİdicinal] [mİlodik] [nİgo6iet]

LSE [wimin] [midicinal] [milodik] [nig6iet]

RP [wImIn] [mIdIsInl] [mIlcdIk] [nigԥ86ieIt]

The underlined segments in the CamE column above can be seen to be the result of spelling pronunciation. But the LSE is free from such a phonetic problem because s/he realises CamE [ũ] as [i], which is closer to RP [I] in that both sounds are [+high] and differ only in tensing. [(] has an additional difference from [I] because it is [-high, -tensing]. Though the above arguments seem to validate the contrastive analysis hypothesis as adequate in describing the [i] and [e] problem after nasals in LSE speech, there are still some complexities that the approach does not handle. If the competence that is transferred into English is that [i] and [e] are neutralised after nasals in Lamnso’, it means that it does not matter semantically (to the LSE) which of the two sounds occurs. This fact alone cannot explain why [i] is more recurrent and even fossilised in certain environments. It is therefore pos-

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sible that in grappling with the distinctive nature of [i] and [e] after nasals in English, the Lamnso’ learner of English decides between the choice of [i] forms as in ‘mean’ and ‘meet’ and [İ] forms as in ‘men’ and ‘met’. This intralingual explication illuminates the confusion in example 11 below: Example 11 Word mean men

LSE [men] [min]

CamE [min] [mİn]

It is dif¿cult to predict which sound will be chosen, why a particular sound should be more frequent and why there is the confusion above. This con¿rms the fact that a single approach cannot adequately explicate certain variant linguistic tendencies, and also brings out some limitations of the contrastive analysis approach. This is because a teacher who is meeting learners with a Lamnso’ background for the ¿rst time and has taken the care to make a contrastive analysis of the phonologies of English and Lamnso’ will not be able to predict a priori why [i] is more frequent than [e] or why the phenomenon in example 11occurs.

5.

The [u] for [o] problem

Another conspicuous tendency in LSE speech is the “u-ful” (i.e. having many [u] sounds) accent manifested in their inability to realise CamE [o] even though they have it in their phonetic inventory and, particularly, their systematic replacement of the sound by [u]. The following data (example 12) adapted from Dzelambong (1996: 46) highlights the problem: Example 12 Word home post own

LSE [hum] [pus] [un]

CamE [hom] [pos] [on]

RP [hԥ8m] [pԥ8st] [ԥ8n]

Explicating the above ¿ndings, Dzelambong (1996: 45) states that the problem is a question of RP [ԥ8] becoming [u] in LSE speech. This means that, since it is dif¿cult for the Lamnso’ speaker to use the RP diphthong, s/he makes a different choice which is [u]. This claim is not plausible because the LSE input is not RP. On the contrary, he is exposed to CamE in which the diphthong [ԥ8] is replaced with [o].

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Generally, the use of [u] for CamE [o], coupled with other words having [u] in English, makes LSE speech sound “u-ful” to Cameroonians. In investigating the causes of the problem, the following research questions were used: – – – –

Is Lamnso’ itself an “u-ful” language? What are the environments in which [u] appears in Lamnso’? What are the environments in which [o] appears in Lamnso’? How relevant is this information to explicate the problem?

Among educated Cameroonian users of English, the common belief is that the problem of the “u-ful” accent stated above is due to mother tongue interference. This belief seems logical because if particular errors are only common among the speakers of a particular mother tongue, then it is not wrong to suspect that such errors should have mother tongue origins. It will be shown that this belief is erroneous because there is nothing in Lamnso’ that occasions the LSE‘s incapability to articulate CamE [o]. It is ¿rst of all necessary to concentrate on the situation of [o] in Lamnso’. [o] is a sound in the Lamnso’ vowel chart since the word, “Lamnso”, (pronounced [lamnsoƢ]) has [o]. Furthermore, [o] is distributed in a variety of environments in the language as seen in example 13 below: Example 13 Word nó shóƾ só

Gloss ‘drink’ ‘thief’ ‘win’

It should be noted that any consonant in Lamnso’ can occur before [o] as demonstrated in Grebe (1976: 10ff). The only consonants that may not precede [o] are [kp] and [gb], which coincidentally are not English consonants. The only environment in which [o] may not appear in Lamnso’ is at word initial position. But this is of little consequence to the present analysis, given that LSE problem is not only with initial [o]. What is even curious is that there are some [o] words in Lamnso’ which are homophonous with CamE [o] words. Consider example 14 below: Example 14 (a) m - ó só I-PAST win ‘I won.’

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(b) m - ó nó I-PAST drink ‘I drank.’

If the Lamnso’ speaker can utter (14a) above, then, why can s/he not pronounce most and so respectively as other Cameroonians do? If s/he can utter (14b), why can he not equally pronounce moan and know as [mon] and [no] as their Cameroonian counterparts? At this level, it could be proposed that the realisation of RP [ԥ8], or CamE [o], as [u] by LSE is not because the Lamnso’ phonetic inventory is de¿cient. It should equally be noted that Lamnso’ is not an “u-ful” language. After a close study of Banboye’s (1992) dictionary of Lamnso’ with about 2,500 entries, I realised that the percentage of [u]-words in relation to other vowels in the language was as low as 8 % in a language with only six vowels. On the other hand, [o] has about 12 %, which is considerably higher than that for [u]-words. Once more, the [u]-for-[o] problem may not be because of saturation, that is, may not be explained by the fact that the [u] sound has a higher occurrence in the ¿rst language. It is necessary at this point to turn to some intricate issues about [u] in Lamnso’. According to Ndzenyuy’s (1997: 83) vowel lowering rule, high vowels become one step lower after nasals. He claims that his rule explains the data in example 15: Example 15 Word LSE CamE mood [mod] [mud] news [njos] [njus] (Source: Ndzenyuy 1997: 83)

In example 15, the [u] sound is lowered to [o]. I postulate that a different process engenders the phenomenon as evidenced from the distribution of [u] in Lamnso’ in example 16 below: Example 16 The con¿guration [nasal V (C)] is ill-formed in Lamnso’ if the V-position is ¿lled by [u].

Example 16 demonstrates that realisations such as *[mu], *[nu], *[ƀu] and *[ƾu] are not possible in Lamnso’. This means that [u] may not occur after nasals in Lamnso’. If we assume that example 16 above is part of the Lamnso’ speakers’ competence, then it would be thinkable that it is this competence that they transfer into English. This better explains the data in example 15 above.

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It also signi¿es that, since [u] never occurs in the environment after nasals in Lamnso’, the LSE is bound to make a different choice, which falls on the next sound on the chart as seen in the words in example 17: Example 17 Word mo ×oo

Gloss ‘me’ ‘soup’

After having provided the reason for the replacement of [u] by [o] after nasals in Lamnso’, we now go back to the [u]-for-[o] problem. The greatest question arising from the above discussion is why the Lamnso’ speaker says [mod] for mood ([mud] in CamE) and cannot say [mod] and [mos] for mode and most respectively, given that his competence in Lamnso’ shows that he can use [o] more comfortably after nasals than [u]. The only observable thing is that mood contains the sound [u] and mode, on the other hand, contains [o] in CamE. This breeds the same confusion, noticed in example 11 above, as seen in example 18 below: Example 18 Word (a) mood (b) mode

LSE [mod] [mud]

CamE [mud] [mod]

If example 18a is engendered by the phenomenon in example 16 above, why does example 18b not follow naturally and not pose a problem? The only possible conclusion to be drawn from these circumstances is that the realisation of mode and most as [mud] and [mus], respectively, by LSE is independent of Lamnso’, and that negative transfer rules like the realisation of [u] as [o] after nasals do not affect it. Another worthy issue about the present problem is that, from general observation, speakers of LSE who did not grow up and acquire primary and secondary education in Nso’, but have Lamnso’ as their ¿rst language would not have the “u-ful” feature in their speech. This again provides evidence that the [u]-problem is independent of Lamnso’. On the basis of that, it is logical to propose that the phenomenon is acquired in Nso’. If Lamnso’ speakers learn English largely in school, then it follows that the ‘u-traits’ are acquired from teachers, probably, at the primary school level3. The big question, which cannot 3. There is evidence from my general observation that those who did primary and secondary education in Nso’ and do not have Lamnso’ as their mother tongue also have ‘u-traits’ in their speech.

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be suf¿ciently answered here, is: Who taught the teachers this legacy that they now bequeath to generations of Lamnso’ learners of English? From the above arguments, it can be concluded that the realisation of CamE [o] as [u] by LSE is from without the language of the Nso’ people and that a contrastive analysis of Lamnso’ and English cannot explicate the phenomenon, contrary to what public opinion holds in Cameroon. The problem cannot be explained through the de¿ciency or distribution of [o] sounds or through the saturation of [u] sounds in Lamnso’. It can therefore only have intralingual origins. This lends support to the supposition by Simo Bobda (1997: 297) that East Anglian [u] for (RP [ԥ8]) soap, moan, and boat could be the remote source of the same pronunciation found in some parts of the North West Province of Cameroon.

It is probable that East Anglians settled in Nso’ as missionaries. Nso’ was one of those Anglophone regions that received a good number of missionaries in about 1926 at Shisong, one of its villages, where we now have a Catholic hospital. The missionaries are said to have operated mission primary schools and a teachers’ training college in Nso’. In those days, people graduated from the so-called ‘Standard Six’ and became teachers. This alone could be enough to create a vicious circle for the multiplication of linguistic traits in that region.

6.

Summary and recommendation

We have so far revisited two major problems in Lamnso’ English, namely, the [i] and [e] problem and the [u]-for-[o] problem. As regards the [i] and [e] problem, it has been concluded that there is no absolute rule that replaces [i] with [e] after nasals as other researchers have claimed. On the contrary, [i] is very recurrent in LSE speech and is fossilised in the following environments: postnasal, between two nasals and between a nasal and a sibilant. The problem ¿nds its roots from the fact that [i] and [e] are neutralised after nasals in Lamnso’, and that this phenomenon is transferred into English where the sounds are distinctive in that environment. Nevertheless, there is some confusion in analysing the data, in certain environments, that impedes the formulation of a neat rule to account for it. Apart from being a negative transfer, the fact that LSE have [i] fossilised in certain environments is also a positive transfer because it saves them from pitfalls such as spelling pronunciation postulated to account for some features of CamE. As to the [u]-for-[o] problem, I have argued that the problem is from without Lamnso’ and is picked up in Nso’. This is because Lamnso’ does not

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inÀuence it. [o] is one of the most recurrent vowels in Lamnso’ and is distributed in a variety of environments, including the post-nasal one. [o] has few restrictions about the sounds that must come before or after it. Lamnso’ has not got too many [u] words. Nevertheless, what I have called the “u-ful” accent is got from Nso’ because those who have Lamnso’ as their ¿rst language, and did not grow up in Nso’ do not have it in their speech. It has also been concluded that the ‘u-ful” accent is inherited from primary school. Therefore, it is a typical issue of transfer of training posited in Selinker (1972: 37). Generally, it has been demonstrated that, as far as the LSE pronunciation is concerned, contrastive analysis (wherever it is possible to postulate it) can only partially explicate their problems. In spite of the free choice between [i] and [e] after nasals carried forward from Lamnso’, [i] is more frequent and fossilised in some environments in LSE speech. This can only be explained using noncontrastive tools. LSE say [min] for ‘men’ and [men] for ‘mean’. They also say [mod] for ’mood’ and [mud] for ‘mode’ where CamE has [mud] and [mod] respectively. This can be linked to hypercorrection where a conscious effort to correct some errors leads to ‘overcorrection’, thereby rendering other right forms wrong. Hence, it can be seen that when L1 competence is transferred into L2, it takes turns that source language processes (i.e., contrastive analyses) can no longer handle. For example, the [i] and [e] problem shows that we move from the neutralisation of both sounds after nasals in the source language to Table 2. Model for treating LSE output Token

Name

Parent

Most

Women

RP input

[neim]

[pıԥrԥnt]

[mԥȤst]

[wȱmȱn]

Monophthongisation CamE

LSE

[nem]

[p(rԥnt]

[most]

-----

Analogy from ‘men’ or spelling pronunciation

-----

-----

-----

[w,m(n]

No vowel reduction

-----

[p(r(nt]

-----

[wim(n]

Consonant cluster simpli¿cation

-----

[p(r(n]

[mos]

-----

CamE output and LSE input

[nem]

[p(r(n]

[mos]

[wim(n]

/e/ and /İ /ĺ [i] between nasals

[nim]

-----

-----

[wimin]

[o] ĺ [u]

-----

-----

[mus]

-----

LSE output

[nim]

[p(r(n]

[mus]

[wimin]

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a high recurrence of one of the neutralised sounds in the target language, and ¿nally to fossilisation of the one and the other sound in particular environments and even in particular lexical items having the same environment of occurrence for the sounds. Lamnso’ speakers are also more comfortable with [o] after nasals than [u], but in their English performance, they ¿nd it dif¿cult to use [o] after nasals. The ¿ndings on Lamnso’ speaker’s English pronunciation show an appreciable level of predictability. As stated above, the input of the various ethnic varieties (which are the concern of current research in the country) is CamE and not RP. The majority of people in these regions have never listened to RP (though they may have learnt CamE from those who have listened to it). What is meant here is not that, in a country like Cameroon with over 248 languages, as many varieties should be standardised; but that CamE being the input, justice would be done to linguistic analyses if we passed through CamE to reach RP. Hence, after CamE rules have applied to the input from RP, the rules of the various sub-varieties could then apply to the input from CamE. Such a step would hasten research work aimed at standardising CamE because the norms of mainstream CamE would be arrived at faster through a study of the degree of variation of its sub-varieties,4 which should be considered to be the basilectal and stigmatised forms in the country. The data from LSE speech could be treated within such a scheme in Table 2. Table 2 shows four words (name, parent, most and women) that are the input for CamE. For us to reach the CamE renditions of the words, some rules (viz. monophthongisation, analogy from men, lack of vowel reduction and consonant cluster simpli¿cation) have to apply. The CamE output of the RP input then provide the input for LSE. For us to achieve the LSE output, other rules need to apply. For example, CamE [e] becomes LSE [i] after nasals and its [o] becomes LSE [u]. This shows that the rules that lead to the LSE output are not mapped on RP input but on input from CamE. Hence, we cannot explain [nim] in LSE speech by saying that RP [eI] in name is monophthongised in LSE to [i] and to [e] in CamE. It is rather the CamE [e] that becomes LSE [i]. The point here is that a variety and its sub-variety cannot have the same input. This model has serious implications for research work in English in Cameroon, especially those carried out in ethnic variations from CamE because, instead of compar4. There is some confusion as to what may be considered mainstream CamE today, especially in what concerns the level of education where the line may be cut. With the fuzzy nature of the lectal continuum phenomenon, mainstream CamE seems to be any variety that is free from diehard sub-regional variations. In this light, subregional variations may be considered to be the basilectal forms.

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ing the sub-varieties directly with RP, it yields better results to compare them with CamE, their direct input. Hence, with a given CamE input, it is possible to predict LSE output.

7.

Conclusion

This chapter has explicated two aspects of Lamnso’ Speakers’ English, involving the distribution of [i] and [e] after nasals and what we have called the “uful” accent. Earlier researchers attempted explaining the phenomenon. Their procedure was to compare LSE output to RP. Their conclusions were drawn based on their procedures. For example, they postulated a different kind of monophthongisation for LSE and a vowel lowering rule as accounting for LSE speech. By so doing, they classi¿ed LSE at the same level with CamE just as one would do between CamE and Nigerian English. In this chapter, I have shown that the procedure was inappropriate, and so too were their conclusions. We cannot place LSE or any other sub-variety in Cameroon at the same level with CamE, the mother variety. Comparing LSE to CamE and using substrate evidence from Lamnso’, the ¿rst language of LSE, I have arrived at conclusions that are different from those of previous researchers. I have shown that LSE renditions are highly predictable in Cameroon. I mentioned earlier in this chapter that the speech of LSE is the subject of ridicule in Cameroon, so much so that any pronunciation that deviates from mainstream CamE is often attributed to LSE. Hence, aspects of LSE are the source of identi¿cation for people from Nso’ in Cameroon. Observation shows that Lamnso’ speakers do not treat this stigmatisation to their English kindly. Many have hoped they never spoke the way they speak. This is a clear instance of what Anchimbe (2007) refers to as ‘linguistic victimisation’. Linguistic victimisation in the context of this chapter captures a situation where any deviant form in CamE is attributed to a socially low sub-variety much to the disapproval of its speakers. Another conclusion arrived at in this chapter is that not all aspects of LSE are attributable to Lamnso’, as speakers of Lamnso’ who were not bred in Nso’ are not likely to have the traits of LSE discussed in this chapter. This shows that some conventions of postcolonial Englishes emerge independently, i.e., on their own, in their habitats and could be the result of the kind of colonial master they had at the time. For example, [i] and [e] are neutralised after nasals in Lamnso’ and not in LSE, but the one and the other vowel is fossilised in particular environments. Again, all substrate evidence point to the fact that LSE should have no dif¿culty with pronouncing CamE [o], but that is just the vowel that poses dif¿culties for them.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

me may menthol main many member name meat met male meet neat need net make negotiate message next maize measure mix melon melt meal kneel mill nail Mary merry merit

i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i e i i i i İ i i i i e e e

1

i e i e i e i e e e e e e e e i i e i i i i e i i i i e i i

2

i i i i i i e i e e i i i e i i i e i i i i İ i e i i e e e

3

i i i e e e i i e e i i i e e i i e i e i i e e i i i e e e

4

I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I E E E E E E E

5

i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i İ i i i i i i i

6 i i i i i i e i i i i i i e i i i i i i e i İ e e e e a e e

7 i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i İ i i i ai e e e

8 e e i İ i e e i e e i i e e e i i i e i e i İ i e i e e e e

9 i i i ai i i i i i e i i i i i i i i e e i i İ e i i i i i e

10 i i i e i i i e i e i e i e e i i İ e i e e İ i i i i i e i

11

Table 3. Data collected for the [i] and [e] problem

Appendix

i i i i i i i i i i i i e e i i i e i i i i e i i i i e e e

12 i i i i i i i i i a i i e e i e i İ i i e i i e e e i e e e

13 i i i e i e i e e e i i i e e i i İ e i i e e i i e i e e e

14 i i i i i i e e e e i e i e i i i İ e i e i e e e i i e e e

15 i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i İ i i i i i i i i i e e e

16 i e i i e i e e i e i i i i e i i e e i e i i e i i i e e e

17 i i i i e e i i i e e i i i i i i İ e i i e i e i i i e e e

18 i i i e e i i e e e e e i i e i i İ i i İ i i i i i i e e e

19 i i i i i i i i i e i i i i i i i i i i i i e e i e i i i i

20 i i i i i i i i i a i i e e i i i i e i e i e e i e i e e e

21 e i i e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e i i i i e e e i i i

22 i e i e e e e e e i i e i i i i i İ e i e e e e i e e e e e

23 i ai i i i i i i i i i i i i e i i i i i i i i i i i i e e e

24 i i i i i i i e e e i i i i i i i i i i e i e e i e e e e e

25 i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i e i e i i

26 e e i e i e e i e e i i i e e e i İ e e i e e i i i e e e e

27 i e e e i i i e i e e e i e i i i İ e i e i e e i i i e e e

28 i i i i i i e e e a i e i i i i i e i i i i e e e i i i i i

29 i e i i e e e e i e e e i e e e e i e i e i e e e e e e e e

30

27:3 22:7+[ai] 29:1 19:10+[ai] 23:7 21:9 20:10 18:12 18:12 10:17+3[a] 24:6 21:9 24:6 15:15 19:11 26:4 28:2 12:18 17:13 26:4 18:12 25:5 9:20 15:15 21:9 19:11 20:8+[ai] 6:23+[ai] 7:23 7:23

TOTALS [i]:[e]

Lamnso’ English: A study in ethnic variation in Cameroon English

259

260

Bonaventure M. Sala

References Anchimbe, Eric A. 2007 Linguabridity: Rede¿ning linguistic identities among children in urban areas. In: Anchimbe, Eric A. (ed.), Linguistic Identity in Postcolonial Multilingual Spaces. Cambridge Scholars Publishing. 66 – 86. Atechi, Samuel N. 2004 American English and British English in Cameroon: Issues of intelligibility. Ibadan Journal of Multicultural/Multidisciplinary Studies: CASTALIA 19: 80 – 90. Atechi, Samuel N. 2006a The phonological inÀuence of English on Awing. English Studies 87(2): 230 – 248. Atechi, Samuel N. 2006b The Intelligibility of Non-Native English Speech. Göttingen: Cuvillier Verlag. Banboye, William W. 1992 The Basic Lamnso’ Vocabulary. Yaounde: SIL Cameroon (402:3 SIL). Chem-Langhee, B. and Verkijika G. Fanso 1997 Social categories, local politics and the uses of oral tradition in Nso’, Cameroon. Cologue International, Université de Provennce. Publication de l’Université de Provence. Dzelambong, Terrence Y. 1996 The InÀuence of Mother Tongues on English Language Usage in Cameroon: A Case Study of Lamnso’. Unpublished MA dissertation, University of Yaounde I. Fonyuy, Ernesta K. 2003 The Evolution of some Vowel Pronunciation Features in Lamnso’ Speakers’ English along the Educational Ladder. Unpublished MA Dissertation, University of Yaounde 1. Grebe, Karl 1976 A Phonology of Lamnso’. Yaounde: SIL Cameroon. McArthur, Tom 1998 Indian English. In: McArthur, T. and R. McArthur (eds.), Concise Oxford Companion to the English Language. Oxford: Oxford Unversity Press. Kouega, Jean-Paul 2000 Some aspects of Cameroon English prosody. Alizés 19: 137 – 153. Kubota, Ryuko 2001 Teaching World Englishes to native speakers in the USA. World Englishes 20(1): 47 – 64. Masanga, W. David 1983 The Spoken English of Educated Moghamo People: A Phonological Study. Unpublished Doctorat de 3è Cycle Thesis, University of Yaounde.

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Mbassi-Manga, Francis 1973 English in Cameroon: A Study in Historical Contacts, Patterns of Usage and Current Trends. PhD Thesis, The University of Leeds. Ndzenyuy, Vernyuy Francis 1997 Reduplication in Lamnso’. Unpublished Postgraduate diploma thesis. University of Yaoundé I. Ngefac, Aloysius 2008a Social Differentiation in Cameroon English: Evidence from Sociolinguistic Fieldwork. New York: Peter Lang. Ngefac, Aloysius 2008b The social strati¿cation of English in Cameroon. World Englishes 27(3/4): 407 – 418. Schneider, Edgar W. 2007 Postcolonial English: Varieties around the World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Selinker, Larry 1972 Interlanguage. IRAL X(3), reprinted in Richards, Jack C. (1989) (ed.), pp. 37 – 54. Simo Bobda, Augustin 1993 English pronunciation in Cameroon: ConÀicts and consequences. Journal of Multillingual and Multicultural Development 14(6): 435 – 445. Simo Bobda, Augustin 1994 Aspects of Cameroon English Phonology. Berne: Peter Lang Simo Bobda, Augustin 1997 Explicating the features of English in multilingual Cameroon: Beyond a contrastive perspective. In: Smieja, Birgit and Meike Tasch (eds). Human Contact through Language and Linguistics. Berlin: Peter Lang. 291 – 307. Simo Bobda, Augustin and Paul N. Mbangwana 1993 An Introduction to Spoken English. Lagos: University of Lagos Press. Tamfuh, M. Willy 1989 The Spoken English of some Educated Wimbum People: A Study in Vowel Variation. Unpublished MA dissertation, University of Yaounde. Yusimbom, M. Z. 1992 The Oral English of Some Educated Nso’ People. Unpublished MA dissertation, University of Yaounde.

Part V. Colonising the coloniser: Ex-colonialist discourses and immigration

Chapter 13 Postcolonial continuities in Danish monolingual dictionaries: Towards a critical postcolonial linguistics Antje Lann Hornscheidt

1.

Introduction: A claim for critical postcolonial linguistics

Since the mid 1980s, “Postcolonial Studies” has been institutionalized in Western academics, and since the 1990s, postcolonial perspectives have, especially in literary and cultural studies, become fundamental (Said 1978, Hall 2002). Postcolonial criticism mainly refers to detailed analyses of various discursive manifestations of colonial and imperial ideologies. As a part of this, the construction of self and other/s within a colonial frame has become a central object of research. Here, language as a tool and a medium for constructing ideological meanings plays a central role; it has become a primary focus of postcolonial analyses. A number of linguistic studies focusing on the interrelationship of linguistics and colonialism, especially in colonial situations and with regard to language planning, have been completed (see e.g. Fabian 1986, Irvine 1995, Calvet 1998, Blommaert 1999), but they have not yet found their way into Scandinavian or German language studies, which is especially astonishing with regard to Phillipson (1992), whose research activities are situated in Denmark. Even aspects of the way languages are represented and described by linguists have not been elaborately investigated from a postcolonial linguistic perspective. The strong tradition of describing non-European languages in an often evaluative way ¿nds its unreÀected roots in colonialism. The perspective in most of these studies is still an imperial one that doesn’t reÀect the power relations inherent in this kind of research, its presuppositions or its classi¿cations. Critical investigations of these practices like Irvine (1995) and DeGraff (2001, 2005) are still simply ignored in wide parts of linguistic research. This is even more interesting, when we look into the processes of discipline building in the 19th and 20th century, where we see that European colonialism plays a vital role in the development of knowledge building. This is particularly true for disciplinary classi¿cations that have a strong impact on many parts of

266

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linguistic theory building including categorizations of, and within, languages through or during grammar writing, or the close connection between the construction of race and linguistic differences (see Römer 1985). Above all, comparative historical linguistics is centrally connected to – if not profoundly based on – the process of European colonialism from the 18th century onwards: The transfer of oral into written cultures and the written agendas of earlier ‘unknown’ languages from a Western perspective into grammar books and dictionaries are key sources and documents for historical linguistics. Both of these, in many cases based on the huge engagement of Christian missionaries, could have developed due to colonial politics. Moreover, questions of typology, the relationship between assumed cultural development and the ‘type’ of language spoken in a certain community, the idea of pidgin and creole languages, all developed in the process of Western colonialism. The development of pidgin and creole languages as a result of colonization processes has been discussed by DeGraff (2001, 2005, etc.) and Mühleisen (2002) to name only a few linguists. They have among other things shown how the concept of creoles has evolved in historical contexts and with regard to the political impetus these languages and their form of categorization have. Typological categorizations of languages are not neutral or objective scienti¿c processes but they reÀect power relations and ideas about more and less important elements in languages evolving from communicative contact situations. If we have a look into how linguistics categorizes creole languages in Africa or the Caribbean, we observe that they are terminologically, categorized according to the respective European languages which are part of the respective Creole, e.g. English-based, French-based, Portuguese-based Creoles – and not according to the respective African or Caribbean languages, e.g. Yoruba-based Creole. The European languages are thus taken as more central, as the norm for the traditional categorization of Creoles. For more see (Bakker 2003) for a summary of Scandinavian Pidgins and Creoles, which are also in the Caribbean. A critical linguistic perspective has only recently begun to develop for some of these topics as the references above illustrate. Within this ¿eld of interest, aspects of language politics in former colonized countries are perhaps the main issue currently discussed in linguistics. Most of all, the different language policies, in particular of England and France, are discussed with regard to their still ongoing effects in different parts of the world. Brathwaite (1984), for example, shows that in Caribbean English it is derogatory to speak of English dialects as it underlines the idea of an English standard identical to British English, and a standardized deviation, U.S. American English. Instead, Brathwaite (1984) uses the term ‘nation language’ to avoid the evaluative and hierarchical di-

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chotomy of standard and dialect, which is not true for the postcolonial situation of, for example, The Caribbean. I think, however, that language does really have a role to play here – certainly in the Caribbean. But it is an English which is not the standard, imported, educated English, but that of the submerged, surrealist experience and sensibility, which has always been there and which is now increasingly coming to the surface and inÀuencing the perception of contemporary Caribbean people. It is what I call, as I say, nation language. I use the term in contrast to dialect. The word ‘dialect’ has been bandies about for a long time, and it carries very pejorative overtones. Dialect is thought of as ‘bad English’. Dialect is ‘inferior English’. Dialect is the language used when you want to make fun of someone. Caricature speaks in dialect. Dialect has a long history coming from the plantation where people’s dignity is distorted through their language and the descriptions, which the dialect gave to them. Nation language, on the other hand, is the submerged area of that dialect which is much more closely allied to the African aspect of experience in the Caribbean. It may be in English: but often is in an English which is like a howl, or a shout or a machine-gun or the wind or a wave. (Brathwaite 1984: 36)

Initiated mainly by literary scholars, the question of an ‘authentic’ language is continuously asked in this context. Today, language as national language in former colonized regions is mainly discussed as being a medium of identity for independent societies. But these societies are at the same time in need of a global communication language. Arguments for or against European languages as of¿cial languages in African, Asian or Caribbean countries oscillate roughly speaking between these poles. Zabus (1991: 74) has reformulated the ‘crossing’ of English vocabulary in West African usage with syntactic structures of different West African language as relexi¿cation (see also DeGraff 2002 on this issue): I shall thus here rede¿ne relexi¿cation as the making of a new register of communication out of an alien lexicon. The adjectives ‘new’ and ‘alien’ are particularly relevant in a post-colonial context in which the European language remains alien or irreducibly ‘other’ to a large majority of the West African population […] and a ‘new’ language is being forged as a result of the particular languagecontact situation in West Africa and the artist’s imaginative use of that situation.

These studies show that a critical postcolonial perspective in linguistics implies a basic questioning of some linguistic categorizations and norms introduced by European linguistics, which, until today, have been taken as universal and therefore not questioned further. These investigations build part of the so called ‘postcolonial linguistics’. ‘Critical creolistics’, as it has been de¿ned by DeGraff (2005) builds an important part of this branch of linguistic research.

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“[P]ostcolonial linguistics – with its scienti¿c results and its reÀexive meditations about, and criticisms of, certain (mis)practices in Creole studies – draws attention to the sociohistorical determinants and sociological consequences of metalinguistic attitudes in, and outside, linguistic research” (DeGraff 2005: 579 – 580). Mühleisen (2002), Anchimbe (2007), and others have emphasized the role linguistic classi¿cations play with regard to the so called standard languages, Creole and Pidgin languages and the effects these classi¿cations have (see also Mufwene 1994, 2001 for a critique of the term “new Englishes”). Linguistics has a central role in this process of naturalization and scienti¿c reasoning for race differences (see Römer 1985 and Mühleisen 2002 on this aspect). In linguistic investigations of colonialism, it has primarily been treated as a key factor for colonized societies. It is however, also essential to thoroughly consider the inÀuence of colonial activities on the colonizers and their languages as well. As the title of this part says, is there any form of “colonizing the colonizer” going on? It is thus stated here that postcolonial linguistics also has to take into account, how the position and self-understanding of the colonizers has been formed and constituted and whether there are any linguistic continuities of colonialism today to be found. By incorporating Critical Whiteness Studies (see Hornscheidt 2005, Nduka-Agwu and Hornscheidt 2010) into this kind of historiographic linguistic research, hegemonic norms within European linguistics could be questioned. Thus, the claim for a critical postcolonial linguistics is understood as crucial to research in, and for, postcolonial linguistics (see also Anchimbe 2007). The adjective ‘critical’ emphasizes the continual need to critically reÀect on all naming practices and norms taken over in the process of research. By calling it critical postcolonial linguistics, research is regarded here as an ideological and powerful discursive practice. The notion of criticism in critical postcolonial linguistics is hence identical to that in Critical Discourse Analysis. In this article, it is argued that discursive formations of colonialism are an important research need within postcolonial linguistics as well. The interrelationship between the colonial and the so-called postcolonial period could be examined with respect to their (verbal and discursive) continuities and discontinuities, argumentation structures and power positions. To give only a short example, there are numerous rhetorical ¿gures from colonial times in colonial discourses, which can still be found today in many different discourses, for example, in journalism and travel writing. Rhetorical strategies applied by colonizers to depict the colonized in different genres like science, media and literature, like surveillance, appropriation, aestheticization, idealization and naturalization, are still used today in depictions of non-Western cultures from a Western perspective. Rhetorical continuities are astonishingly

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recurrent; they can even show (post)colonial continuities in thinking and conceptualization (see Spurr 1993 for a detailed rhetorical analysis of English colonial discourses from the 19th century until today. See also Nduka-Agwu and Hornscheidt (2010) for many different discourse analysis and Hornscheidt and Göttel (2004) for a text analysis of a recent media text on Africa and the colonial images still to be found here). As a more general consequence, I would like to propose a stronger integration of a critical postcolonial linguistics into a trans-disciplinary postcolonial studies project. Linguistics in the aforementioned sense could give important and interesting insights into processes of verbal constructions of colonial identities – of the colonized as well as of the colonizers – during and after colonialism. I would like to emphasize that this process is twofold: not only are the colonized constructed as others in hegemonic colonial discourses but the colonizers are constructed in those discourses in their ‘normalized’ and universalized positions (see, for example, Dietrich 2007 for a discourse analysis of the construction of a white female position in European colonial discourses). I take this observation as a starting point for the empirical part of this chapter, in which I would like to show that a research perspective investigating the effects of colonialism on the colonizers and the role language plays should be a central issue in a critical postcolonial linguistics.

2.

Targets of the analyses and sources of data

I have investigated 14 monolingual Danish dictionaries published between 1859 and 2004 (see Table 1). They range from large dictionaries with a documentary purpose to smaller ones for a more general public daily usage. Two of the dictionaries focus on the collection of ‘new’ words in Danish between the 1940s and the 1990s; one is a dictionary of synonyms. A wide range of different monolingual dictionaries is thus represented. Danish is a small language so that this collection of resources can be regarded as representative of monolingual dictionary production in Denmark during the last 150 years: all general monolingual Danish dictionaries published in the 20th century have been taken into account here, but not those, which are very specialized (see Hjorth 1989. The largest, and until today most highly regarded Danish dictionary, ODS (see appendix for abbreviation code), was published between 1859 and 1952 in 28 volumes (see Danlexgruppen 1987, Hjorth 1990, 1989). Only recently a partly state-funded and comparably large dictionary project has been initiated to replace it. The ¿rst two volumes of this new dictionary, DDO, were published in 2003 and 2004. Although it is in itself an interesting topic, for rea-

270

Antje Lann Hornscheidt

sons of space, I cannot give more details on the ideological sites of the different dictionaries and their production. Nevertheless, ODS and DDO are central citation sources for Danish today and enjoy highest publicity and broadest usage. These two dictionaries take a central role in the analysis done in this chapter. Far more than 50 different words and word groups have been analyzed in this study. They are presented in Table 1 together with the dictionaries where they are found as word entries. Where no dictionary is mentioned, the words listed are from my primary source material only. Interestingly enough some of the new words depicting speci¿cs of the colonial situation from a Danish perspective, like crevellen, manillas and remidoren, are not mentioned in the dictionaries under investigation. The abbreviations of the monolingual dictionaries are explained at the end of this article. Table 1. Words and word groups analyzed Danish word entry

Translation

antropofag

man eater

Dictionary sources (year: page)

barbar

barbarian

DOF 1907 1: 37 DSO 1957 1957: 25 GF 1974: 45 DDO 2003: 290 DDO 2003: 290

ODS 1918 1: 1181, NDO 1969 1: 67 GF 1974: 45 PNO 2001, 1: 119

barbarisk

barbarian

DO 1859 1: 123 ODS 1918 1: 1181 NDO 1969 1: 67 ODS-S 1: 1007 DDO 2003: 290

DOF 1907 1: 37 DSO 1957 1957: 25 GF 1974: 45 PNO 2001, 1: 119

barbarisme

barbarism

DOF 1907 1: 37 NDO 1969 1: 67 DDO 2003: 290

ODS 1918 1: 1181 GF 1974: 45

barbariske folk

barbarian people

blåmand

“blue man”: black person

cassaren

marriage between female Africans and male Danes in the colonies

Postcolonial continuities in Danish monolingual dictionaries

271

Danish word entry

Translation

Dictionary sources (year: page)

civilisation

civilization

DO 1859 1: 303, ODS 1921 3: 367 NDO 1969 1: 151 DDO 2003: 584

DOF 1907 1: 108 DSO 1957: 45 GF 1974: 78

civiliseret

civilized

DSO 1957: 45

DDO 2003: 584

uciviliseret

uncivilized

DOF 1907 1: 108 NDO 1969 2: 1061

DSO 1957: 45

crevellen

small elephantteeth exchanged against slaves

den hvide race

the white race

DOF 1907 1: 373

NDO 1969 1: 409f.

eksotisk

exotic

OSD 1922 4: 252

DDO 2004: 32

eksotisme

exotism

ekspansionspolitik

politics of expansion

OSD-S 3: 345

DDO 2004: 32

ekspanisonshistorie

history of expansion

etnisk

ethnic

OSD-S 1997 3: 571

DDO 2004: 97

folk

people, folk

DO 1859 1: 526 OSD-S 3: 1054ff. PNO 2001, 1: 406

DOF 1907 1: 195 NDO 1969 1: 263 DDO 2004: 242

folkestam(merne),

folk, stem

DOF 1907 1: 195

folkestyre(tid)

time where the people reigned

fremmede

strange people, others

DO 1859 1: 655 OSD 1923 5: 1261ff. DSO 1957: 86 PNO 2001, 1: 461

DOF 1907 1: 238 OSD-S 3: 137 NDO 1969 1: 298 DDO 2004: 382

hedning/er/ne

heathen(s)

DO 1859 1: 894 NDO 1969 1: 375 DDO 2004: 672

DOF 1907 1: 330 PNO 2001, 1: 565

herrefolk

leaders, dominant DOF 1907 1: 339

DDO 2004: 700

høvding

chief

DOF 1907 1: 392 ODS-S 2001 4: 714 NDO 1969 1: 423 DDO 2004: 838

DO 1859 1: 1046 ODS 1926 8: 1299f. DSO 1957: 112 PNO 2001, 1: 621

272

Antje Lann Hornscheidt

Danish word entry

Translation

Dictionary sources (year: page)

infødte

native/s

DO 1859 1: 1084 ODS 1927 9: 205

DOF 1907 1 : 405

kannibal

cannibal

DOF 1907 1: 444 DSO 1957: 124

OSD 1927 9: 1203

kannibalisme

cannibalism

DOF 1907 1: 444

OSD 1927 9: 1203

klan

clan

DOF 1907 1: 465 NDO 1969 1: 493 PNO 2001, 1: 715

DSO 1957: 126 GF 1974: 267

koloni

colony

DO 1859 1: 305 OSD 1928 10: 1054ff. NDO 1969 1: 507f. GF 1974: 273

DOF 1907 1: 491 DSO 1957: 129 NDO 1969 1: 507f. PNO 2001, 1: 738

kolonialhandel

colonial trade

DOF 1907 1: 491

PNO 2001, 1: 738

kolonialhandler

colonial trader

DOF 1907 1: 491

DSO 1957: 129

kolonialvare,

colonial goods

DOF 1907 1: 491 PNO 2001, 1: 738

NDO 1969 1: 507f.

koloniembedsmand

colonial of¿cer

kolonihistorie

colonial history

kolonimagt

colonial power

OSD-S 4: 1126f.

kolonisatorisk

colonial

OSD-S 4: 1126f.

kolonisere

to build colonies

DOF 1907 1: 491 GF 1974: 273

kolonisering

to colonize

DOF 1907 1: 491

kolonialisme

colonization

OSD-S 4: 1126f. GF 1974: 273

kolonismør

colonial butter

OSD-S 4: 1126f.

kolonist/er/ne

colonizers

DOF 1907 1: 491 GF 1974: 273

kolonisted

colonial town

OSD-S 4: 1126f.

kompagni

company

NDO 1: 510 PNO 2001, 1: 742

kronkolonie(tid)

a crown colony (colonial time)

NDO 1969 1: 507f. PNO 2001, 1: 738 NDO 1969 1: 507f. PNO 2001, 1: 738 NDO 1969 1: 507f. PNO 2001, 1: 738 DSO 1957: 131

Postcolonial continuities in Danish monolingual dictionaries

273

Danish word entry

Translation

manillas

pieces of metal, put around the arms of slaves to show their value

maron/s

areas inaccessible for the colonizers, where slaves organized their ¿ghts against colonizers

maurer

maurer

ODS 1933 14: 341 GF 1974: 337

NDO 1969 2 : 647 PNO 2001, 2: 881

maurisk

adj. to maurer

ODS 1933 14: 341

GF 1974: 337

menneskeæder

cannibal

missionere

missionary

mission

mission

mor

moor

DO 1859 2: 119 ODS 1933 14: 341 GF 1974: 337

DOF 1914 2: 38 NDO 1969 2 : 647 PNO 2001, 2: 917

DOF 1914 2: 38

GF 1974: 337

DO 1859 2: 124 ODS 1933 14: 341 GF 1974: 337

DOF 1914 2: 38 DSO 1957: 156

DOF 1914 2: 59 NDO 1969 2: 668

morenkop morian

moor

Dictionary sources (year: page)

mulatter

mulatto

naturfolkene

natural folk

DOF 1907: 528 ODS 1933 14: 974 PNO 2001, 2: 944

naturreligion

natural religion

DOF 1914 2: 60

neger/negrene

negro/es

DO 1859 2: 196 DSO 1957: 161 GF 1974: 369

negerslave

negro-slave

DO 1859 2: 196 DOF 1914: 64 ODS 1933 14: 1155ff.

negerslavedebat

debate on negro-slaves

negresse

female negro

GF 1974: 369

negrid

adj. of negro

GF 1974: 369

DOF 1914: 64 NDO 1969 2: 672 PNO 2001, 2: 952

PNO 2001, 2: 952

274

Antje Lann Hornscheidt

Danish word entry

Translation

Dictionary sources (year: page)

negritude

negritude

GF 1974: 369

negroid

adj. of negro

GF 1974: 369 PNO 2001, 2: 952

nigger

nigger

ODS 1933 14: 1155ff. NDO 1969 2: 672 GF 1974: 369

palaver

negotiation between colonizers and Africans on matters of trade

OSD 1936 16: 402 NDO 1969 2: 727 PNO 2001, 2: 1032

DSO 1957: 181 GF 1974: 399

plantageejer

owner of plantation

DOF 1914: 134 NDO 1969 2: 749

GF 1974: 428

DSO 1957: 189 GF 1974: 443

plantagearbejder(ne) plantation-worker planteraristokrati

plantationaristocracy

primitiv

primitive

OSD 1936 16: 1294 NDO 1969 2: 763 PNO 2001, 2: 1084

primitivisme

primitivism

NDO 1969 2: 763

protektorat

protectorate

OSD 1936 16: 1394 NDO 1969: 769

GF 1974: 450 PNO 2001 2: 1093

race

race

DO 1859 2 : 524 DSO 1957: 195 GF 1974: 463 PNO 2001, 2: 1113

DOF 1914 2: 157 NDO 1969 2: 783 NO 1999: 695

racehygiejne

race-hygiene

NDO 1969 2: 783

racisme

racism

NDO 1969 2: 783 NO 1999: 695

GF 1974: 463 PNO 2001, 2: 1113

remidoren

African society

slave

slave

DO 1859 2: 844 DSO 1957: 215 GF 1974: 518 1254f.

DOF 1914 2: 279 NDO 1969 2: 898 PNO 2001, 2:

slaveri

slavery

DO 1859 2: 844 DSO 1957: 215 PNO 2001, 2: 1254f.

DOF 1914 2: 279 NDO 1969 2: 898

slaveskibe(ne)

slave-ship

DOF 1914 2: 279

Postcolonial continuities in Danish monolingual dictionaries Danish word entry

Translation

slaveemancipationen slave emancipation slaveoprør

slave-revolution

stamme

stem

275

Dictionary sources (year: page) DOF 1914 2: 279

DO 1859 2: 964f. NDO 1969 2: 937

DSO 1957: 224 PNO 2001, 2: 1306 DO 1859 2: 1267

træl

slave

DSO 1957: 245

vild

wild

DSO 1957: 270

vildmand

wild man

DSO 1957: 270

The words investigated here were chosen from historical sources like travelers’ journals, diaries, and letters. Other historical documents such as of¿cial certi¿cates and trade registers were also consulted for the type of vocabulary used. A third source that was considered included historical studies that mention some of the concepts and vocabulary of Danish colonialism (Hoxcer Jensen et al. 1983, Feldbæk and Justesen 1980). By analyzing the words and the explanations provided for them in the dictionaries, a number of additional words, which have been used frequently to explain them, were added to the list. Single words, compounds, derivations and antonyms were all taken into account.1 The analysis demonstrates to what extent monolingual dictionaries can serve as resources for investigating attitudes towards colonialism within a European country. Dictionaries are not understood here as lexicographic documents ‘simply’ presenting (objective) meanings of words but as powerful sites for ideological discourse formations. However, if the information in a dictionary is considered as pure objective information about the world, the cultural character of dictionaries is dismissed. In a very typical movement of Western culture, language is conceived only as a material support, as a simple label, of “things as they are”, turning dictionaries into what we could call “ontological catalogues of things.” (Lara 1995: 42)

Instead, it is assumed that, due to their authoritative and generally unquestioned position with regard to meaning formation, dictionaries contribute to conceptualizations that are more general. “Lexicography is not a disembodied activity taking place in a vacuum; it is an act of communication in a real-world context, and both aspects are essential to lexicographical decisions to be made.” (Zgusta 1. This last level could have been analysed in more detail as is done in the concrete case: It is assumed that lines of derivation, the building of antonyms by help of the pre¿x “u-“ in Danish (s.th. like “un-“ in English), for example, could be of interest.

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1989a: 291) Hence, as one result, this analysis is going to show to what degree dictionaries can convey how a society reÀects and constructs its own history, and presents its involvement in processes of colonialism. The analysis therefore, gives insights into whether monolingual dictionaries can serve as interesting linguistic material for an investigation of political involvement in processes of colonialism and its public conceptualization. With respect to the resource material chosen, this study is part of a rather younger tradition of critical lexicography (see Fishman 1995) as part of metalexicography. Metalexicography, as a sub-discipline of linguistics, has always been concerned with the social and/or stately interests, which are reÀected in dictionaries. In particular, the aspect of semantic comments, which is central to a theoretical conceptualization of monolingual dictionaries, is of importance for an analysis of norms and values reÀected in dictionaries. Thus, we must interpret dictionaries in context and see them as both resultant of and constructive of their contexts. Indeed, this is what we do with other cultural artifacts. We recognize them as reÀections of their contexts but as more than reÀections we recognize them as constituents of those contexts, contexts which we must try to know by means of as many other artifacts and cultural behaviors as possible. (Fishman 1995: 34)

Dictionaries are thus results of, as well as constitutive of, certain world views and ideologies. Dictionaries do at least reÀect more general conventionalizations of meaning. Moreover, they have an authoritative function within society and are generally used as references. As such they have a central role as normalizing discourses and are thus, extremely relevant to discourse analysis. Hence, the analyses presented here are a contribution to a critical metalexicographical analysis as part of linguistics (see Wiegand 1998). Monolingual dictionaries are not primarily regarded as linguistic sources and references, but as discourses, which are extremely authoritative within Western societies and which thus have a strong impact on public perceptions and negotiations of concepts. Monolingual dictionaries are used by almost everyone in Western societies to clarify a speci¿c meaning and/or to determine whether a term should been seen as derogatory or not.2 Often, individual language usages are authorized by referring to de¿nitions given in dictionaries. It has to be emphasized that this analysis is not at all meant to show personal responsibilities of dictionary makers or to imply intentional acts of racism. To 2. Whereas this aspect seems central to the question of whether derogatory usage of certain words has to be marked in dictionaries, it is also seen as central to questions of which words are taken as own dictionary entries in the respective dictionaries.

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the contrary, the analysis is situated within a social-constructivist frame and hence, does not ask for intentional authorship and conscious strategies applied in the production process. Rather, it is interested in the concrete discourses and even in the single texts and the possible role they play in the readers’ conceptualizations of history, race, and gender in this case. This methodological position means as well that the analysis does not become more relevant, when, for instance, a certain meaning explanation for a word entry is found in all dictionaries or when the strategies applied for meaning explanations for terms on colonialism can even be found for other entries as well. Starting from a social constructivist position, monolingual dictionaries are assumed to be important discourse formations within a society. Dictionaries do not simply ‘describe’ things but construct them as neutral or objective even though they often claim in the prefaces to simply ‘describe’ things. I would like to show how social ideologies can be investigated with regard to monolingual dictionaries. Taking colonialism as a strongly ideological political activity, the dictionary entries under investigation here can be classi¿ed as political vocabulary (Karpova and Manik 2002). Political vocabulary is normally characterized by its dynamic character: Because ideological-political words are so that important different social groups normally ¿ght for the ‘right’ meaning. Their meaning is explained by using synonyms, hyperonyms, and a traditional semantic component analysis. One aspect neglected in the analyses presented here in the context of colonialism is that by tracing the origin of words in other languages the origin of cultures is put into other cultures as well. This could probably serve as a legitimizing strategy for the own position towards colonialism for example. Two main inÀuences in the making of a dictionary can be mentioned here as ideologically inÀuenced: What words are taken up as entries into dictionaries and secondly, how they are ‘described’, de¿ned and/or explained.

3.

Traces of colonialism in Danish monolingual dictionaries

3.1.

The historical frame: Danish colonialism

From the middle of the 17th century, Denmark owned colonies in the West Indies and in West Africa as well as in South-India. Between the 17th and early 20th century Denmark shipped at least 97,000 people as slaves from West Africa, mainly to work on the Danish plantation colonies in the West-Indies. Only some of the African people were shipped to Denmark and sold as slaves there. When Denmark sold the West Indian islands in 1917, the Danish colonial

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period outside Europe had of¿cially ended. So, Denmark no longer had any colonies outside Europe. This, however, is not true for the Danish colonies in Europe: Denmark still had colonies in Iceland, the Faroe Islands and Greenland. Whereas Iceland is today politically independent of Denmark, Greenland and the Faroe Islands still have some kind of political dependency on Denmark. The Danish colonial involvement in Africa, the Caribbean and India is rarely mentioned in the context of a historical investigation into European colonialism. Instead, Spain, England and France have been singled out in Europe as the colonial powers. Besides Denmark, Sweden also had overseas colonies during this period. Introductory textbooks on colonialism like Osterhammel (2003) do not at all mention the Scandinavian countries in the context of European colonialism. But even in the countries themselves, colonialism as a Danish or Swedish phenomenon is hardly ever mentioned. Taking these observations as starting points, it might be interesting to see how Danish monolingual dictionaries construct colonialism. Entries in the monolingual dictionaries analyzed here include: word entries, the explanations of meaning, the concrete examples given, and the meta-linguistic and evaluative remarks provided for each of them. As shown below, these aspects are relevant to understand the various conceptualizations of colonialism in monolingual Danish dictionaries. 3.2.

The construction of self and other in dictionaries as a postcolonial topic

For the sake of consistency, I have con¿ned myself to how the ‘own’ position is constructed in the dictionaries with respect to colonialism. Taking postcolonial theory as a starting point, the constructions of self and other/s are central topics under negotiation in colonial discourses (Loomba 1998, McClintock 1995, Said 1978, and Fanon 1952). Colonialism as an ideology is strongly built upon the construction of the self as ‘normal’ and/or superior and the other/s as deviant and inferior. Both concepts always depend on each other and imply each other even if they are not always contrasted to each other in an explicit way. The implication of a simultaneously evaluated difference works much stronger in many cases than its explicit formulation. Monolingual dictionaries are based on a basic notion of alterity in their intention to clarify the meaning of words, as for example Hausmann (1989: 5) has formulated: “The most direct need for information springs from contact with the dif¿cult, especially the strange […]. The problem with strangeness (al-

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terity) shows in the ¿rst line up in reception, only secondarily in usage.”3 Taking a perspective-pragmatic frame, one has to add that dictionaries are not only important for the individual handling of alterity, but that they are important resources for the construction of alterity as well. This becomes even more crucial when the dictionaries’ high degree of everyday authority is taken into account. 3.3.

Levels of analysis for monolingual dictionaries and concrete results

3.3.1. Gaps on the level of word entries in the monolingual dictionary Two different observations are to be mentioned: On the one hand, there are words used in colonial discourses that have never found their way into monolingual Danish dictionaries. Maron for example, describes a certain landscape formation that seemed to be typical for the colonizers coming to West Africa. Cassaren means the marriage between a male Dane and a female African. Both words are frequently used in travel journals, of¿cial reports and letters but not mentioned in any of the dictionaries under investigation here. This could be interpreted as a sign of their infrequent usage and so are not important for Danish speakers.4 But on the other hand, the non-existence of contemporary verbalized concepts of the Danish colonial situation in the respective monolingual dictionaries makes this simultaneously less visible and less publicly recognizable. Even if it is impossible to judge the reasons for the absence of some word entries in dictionaries, the effects of this lack on public perceptions is nonetheless maintainable. In comparing different contemporary discourses it is interesting to see that some words are not given the status of dictionary entries, and consequently the chance for the perception of concepts connected to them by a broader public is minimized. By way of this, the invisibility of certain (perspectives on) realities is reproduced in dictionaries and thus con¿rmed. Moreover, some words are frequently used in the dictionaries’ word explanations and also frequently found in other discourses although they are not entered in any of the dictionaries as independent entries. One central example is the word in(d)fødte (native). Only the early 3. My translation. Original: „Das unmittelbarste Informationsbedürfnis ergibt sich aus der Begegnung mit dem Schwierigen, insonderheit dem Fremden, das sprachlicher und sachlicher Natur sein kann. Das Problem der Fremdheit (Alterität) zeigt sich in erster Linie in rezeptiven Zusammenhängen, nur in zweiter Linie betrifft es die produktive Verwendung.“ (Hausmann 1989: 5) 4. Cassaren in the Spanish and Portuguese context is, however, a more usual term and could reÀect the far greater tolerance of racial intermarriage which characterized Spanish and Portuguese colonial penetration.

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dictionaries, that is, the three dictionaries published before 1927, have entries for native: ODS 1927 9: 205 native […] 2) born and bred up in a special (closely de¿ned) place, esp.: in a country (in contrast to, immigrant, stranger (1 and 2), compare “born at home” 2); now esp. […] with reference to original, not-civilized inhabitants of nonEuropean countries; wild.5

In this early dictionary entry we can already see a meaning speci¿cation. In the last line, reference is made to “original, not-civilized inhabitants of non-European countries; wild.” By the double negation, a divergence from a simultaneously implicitly constructed normality is clearly marked. In all later dictionaries, native as a word is frequently used only in explaining other words but not as entry.6 In addition to that, we can observe a further meaning speci¿cation when native is solely used with regard to colonial or former colonial contexts.7 This continues to be the case today, with regard to the usage of the term on Danish internet sites.8 Due to that, a conceptualization of lacking civilization and 5. Danish original: Indfødt […] 2) født og opvokset paa et vist (nærmere angivet) sted, især: i et vist land (i modsætn. til indvandret, fremmed (1 og 2); jf. hemmefødt 2); nu især […] om de oprindelige, ikke-civiliserede beboere i ikke-europæiske lande: vild. Besides this entry there are only further entries in DO 1859 1, p. 1084 and DOF 1907 1, p. 405. 6. In addition to that, it is interesting to see that other possible terms like opridenligt (befolkning), urfolk, urbefolkning do not at all turn up in the meaning explanations under investigation here. Indfødt(e) thus seems to be the central term to be used in this context. 7. As further examples for monolingual dictionary entries using the term indfødt in their meaning explanations, see the following examples from 1907 up until 2001: DOF 1907 1: 444 kannibal […] [Forv. af karibal, indfødt paa de karibiske øer] […]; ODS 1933 14: 1155ff. Neger […] nedsæt. (efter eng. nigger) Nigger […] om de indfødte i Afrika af den sorte race. GF 1974: 399 palaver […] (engl., fra port. palavra ord, tale, af gr. parabole lignelse, se parabel; egl.: forhandling mellem europæer og afrikansk indfødt) […]; NDO 1969 2: 763 primitiv […] 1. oprindelig, tihørende et tidligt stadium af en udvikling: Australiens indfødte er primitive folk; PNO 2001, 2: 1113 racisme 1. den anskuelse at raceforskelle bør bestemme forskelle i politiske og sociale rettigheder Ƒ debatten drejede sig om hvordan racismen kommer til udtryk; kampen mod racismen; er fremmedhad det samme som rasicsme? tidligere byggede den sydafrikanske politik åbent på racisme; de indfødte beretter om mange tilfæle af skjult racisme. 8. All websites retrieved in google.dk in 2005 refer to American (Indians) or African “natives”.

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wildness is powerfully installed and manifested as a prototypical imagination connected to the concept. It seems that this is not restricted to Danish use but is a more general European tendency: The root sense of the term as those who were ‘born to the land’ was, in colonialist contexts, overtaken by a pejorative usage in which the term ‘native’ was employed to categorize those who were regarded as inferior to the colonial settlers or the colonial administrators who ruled the colonies. ‘Native’ quickly became associated with such pejorative concepts as savage, uncivilized or child-like in class nouns such as ‘the natives’. (Ashcroft et al. 2000: 158)

We can see here in the dictionaries an utmost strong and complex form of reproduction of certain racist presuppositions. This is further underlined by the fact that the concept is regarded as so unimportant that it has no entry on its own. 3.3.2. Comparison of compounds A comparison of compounds is a second way to investigate lexical gaps in the dictionary and the supposed semantic changes as well as metaphorical processes manifested in dictionaries as part of semantic change in a historical perspective. This can be seen for example, if the compound entries with sklave (slave) as a ¿rst component are compared in a historical perspective in different dictionaries. In the 1859 dictionary (DO), there are 25 different compounds with the word sklave: these are: slaveaag, slaveand, slavearbeide, slavebaand, slavelænker, slavefanger, slavejagt, slavejæger, slavefoged, slavefængsel, slaveri, slavehandel, slavehandler, slaveherre, slavehold, slaveholderm slavehuus, slavejagt, slavejern, slavekaar, slave¿æde, slaveklæder, slavelænke, slavesind, slaveskib, slavestand, slavetorv, slvaevogter. In DOF 1914 2: 279 a similar list of compounds can be found). All of them refer to different colonial situations, speci¿c living conditions of slaves in different ways. The only concrete examples given, however, refer to an African context, which is only one of many historical situations of slavery (e.g. Slaveskib, et. Skib, hvorpaa Slaver føres fra Afrika). In contrast to that, in the dictionaries from the 1950s onwards, compounds formed with the word sklave only use the concept slave in a metaphorical sense, transferring a concept of hard work to a supposedly European context. Thus, for word entries with sklave as ¿rst part of a compound, colonial history is not mentioned and hence ignored.

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NDO 1969 2: 898 Slave-institution: discriminatory (jargon) school or work-place. – Slave-work […] transposed for hard, monotonous work. – Slave-trade; white s. trade with white women as prostitutes. – Slave-life transposed for: existence full of hard work made for others.9

References to oppressive situations and hard work in the current dictionary become core meanings and are transferred from historical, also colonial situations, to a Danish contemporary context. Colonial conceptualizations are translated into class differences in Denmark in the 20th century. Here, the discrimination associated with a slave as a colonial reality is only indirectly referred to and used metaphorically. The discriminatory reality of European colonialism becomes thus a presupposition, which no longer has any relevance. The dictionary entries show a negotiation of a cultural history that has to be criticized from a critical postcolonial point of view. A similar criticism has been formulated by Hermanns (1982) with regard to German dictionaries and their handling of Nazi-vocabulary: Hermanns evaluates this as a wrong attitude towards synchrony called “present past” (“Gegenwärtige Vergangenheit” in the German original). As can be seen here, this criticism is true for Danish dictionaries with regard to colonialism as well. In contrast to that, the meaning explanations for the word entry slave from the 1950s onwards do not solely refer to the present situation but give a historical context for the term. However, this one is exclusively connected to the Roman slave trade or the American situation: PNO 2001, 2: 1254f. slave 1. a person without any rights, who does not have his personal freedom any longer because she or he is owned by another person and is forced to do hard work […] slaves in ancient Rome; slaves in America10

To summarize, a historical analysis of monolingual dictionaries with regard to the concept of slave reveals three different aspects:

9. Danish original: slave-anstalt nedsæt. (jargon) om skole ell. arbejdsplads. – slavearbejde […] overf. om hårdt, ensformigt arbejde. slave-handel; hvid s. om handel med hvide kvinder til bordeller. – slave-liv overf. om tilværelse fuld af strengt arbejde, der gøres for andre. 10. Danish original: slave 1. en retsløs person som er berøvet sin frihed fordi han er ejet af en anden person, og som er tvunget til at udføre hårdt arbejde […] slaverene i oldtidens Rom; slaverne i Amerika; similar entries can be found in NDO 1969 2: 898 and GF 1974: 518.

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– a transfer from the concept of the colonial other onto members of as inferior constructed classes. “The ideology of racial superiority translated easily into class terms”, Loomba (1998: 126) remarks. The metaphorical meanings of the compounds with sklave as a ¿rst part have become the normal(ized) ones in the Danish monolingual dictionaries. The act of metaphorical meaning transfer is often not even mentioned any longer in the dictionaries; – a conceptual linkage between implicit racist categories and workforce relations; – a lack of compounds for a differentiated appellation of historical phenomenon with respect to colonialism. The dictionaries con¿rm an impression that there is no need to express colonial realities in a differentiated way from the 1950s onwards. The analysis of compounds reveals one additionally interesting aspect in the case of sklave: We can see the construction of a complex parallelism between race and gender in the phrase hvid slavehandel (white slave trade). PNO 2001, 2: 1254f. slave trade 1. Trade with slaves […] white slave trade organized trade with young women sold to another country for prostitution.11

Although there are many other forms of domination as far as the concept slave is concerned, there is not a single entry in the dictionaries under investigation, which has made explicit that sklave is a racist concept, referring to a power-relationship, which is here implicitly reduced to one between Whites and Blacks. This knowledge is presupposed as becomes obvious in the frequent mentioning of the phrase white slave trade in the dictionaries from 1914 onwards. The entry functions as an exception to the simultaneously constructed ‘normal’ conceptualization, which is recon¿rmed or even naturalized in this way by not making it explicit in any case. In addition to that, the entry demonstrates the implicit construction of the colonial other as prototypically male. A parallelism between White women and the colonial other becomes obvious. In the language of colonialism, non-Europeans occupy the same symbolic space as women.12 Both are seen as part of nature, not culture, and with the same 11. Danish original: slavehandel 1. handel med slaver […] hvid slavehandel organiseret handel med unge kvinder som sælges til prostitution i et andet land. 12. It is interesting to see that even here the form ‘women’ is used instead of White women which would be more correct and explicit. By way of this, white women are re-stated as universal again.

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ambivalence: either they are ripe for government, passive, child-like, unsophisticated needing leadership and guidance, described always in terms of lack – no initiative, no intellectual powers, no perseverance; or on the other hand, they are outside society, dangerous, treacherous, emotional, inconstant, wild, threatening, ¿ckle, sexually aberrant, irrational, near animal, lascivious, disruptive, evil, unpredictable. (Carr 1985: 50)

The conceptual parallelism established between the colonized others and European women, re-effects each of both perceptions. But, moreover, this leads to a double exclusion of Black women even in critical postcolonial studies as has been continuously criticized by Black feminist (see Hooks 1984 and Loomba 1998 for a broad range of black feminist approaches). A critical postcolonial linguistics needs to take this criticism seriously. As the short analysis has shown, it can even support a critical view on the gendering of colonial processes. However, race, gender, and sexuality are not just additive to one another as identity categories nor do they simply provide metaphors for each other. Instead, they work together in a complex way which needs to be taken into account in a critical postcolonial linguistic analysis. 3.3.3. Predication of characteristics Colonial othering is not only manifested in collective person appellation, as has been demonstrated above, but also by way of predicating characteristics with, for example, adjectives. The example chosen from the two most renowned and biggest Danish monolingual dictionaries to demonstrate this is the adjective eksotisk (exotic). Further examples, however, include the adjectives primitiv (primitive), fremmed (strange), and uciviliseret (un-civilized) (see Table 1). OSD 1922 4: 252 exotic […] coming from another country (1800). […] living in or coming from warmer regions of the world13

This early entry already shows a change in meaning from a dynamic relational concept to a static one. Stemming from Greek “coming from a different country/region”, the meaning has been ‘stabilized’ by losing its dynamic character. This is a powerful strategy to normalize a certain perspective as neutral, one which, up till today can be observed in the use of the adjective exotic. The European point of view is thus manifested as a universal and neutral one. 13. Danish original: eksotisk […] udenlandsk (1800). […] som hører hjemme i ell. stammer fra varmere egne af jordkloden.

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By losing its relative character, the adjective simultaneously takes over an evaluation, as becomes obvious if we look in the 2004 dictionary: DDO 2004: 32 exotic […] coming from a far away and strange, esp. tropical region Ƒ exotic fruits, exotic surroundings .. atmosphere […] • (¿gurative sense) seeming to be exotic (and strange)14

The “strange” has in this case been concretized to a certain geographical region. A parallel to the conventionalization of the meaning of the English term exotic can be observed here: When the English language and the concepts it signi¿ed in the imperial culture were carried to colonized sites, through, for instance, English education, the attribution of exoticism as it applied to those places, peoples or natural phenomena usually remained unchanged. Thus schoolchildren in, for instance, the Caribbean and North Queensland could regard and describe their own vegetation as ‘exotic’ rather than trees like the oak or yew that were ‘naturalized’ for them as domestic by the English texts they read. (Ashcroft et al. 2000: 95) 3.3.4. Broadening of meaning in dictionary entries The examples given so far have shown acts of speci¿cation of conventionalized meanings in monolingual dictionaries over time. In addition to that, a broadening of meaning can be found as well. This strategy implies a dynamic adaptation to different needs in the construction of alterity. DO 1859 2: 119 Moor […] 1. Inhabitant of Northern parts of Africa or Mauritania. They are now generally called maurer. 2. a negro15

In the ¿rst meaning given above, the person appellation form mor (moor) refers to a geographically de¿ned region. In the second explanation with negro presented as a synonym the regional differentiation of the word is neglected and its meaning is generalized on a racial and thus racist conception. The dif14. Danish original: eksotisk […] fra en fjern og fremmed, især tropisk, egn Ƒ eksotiske frugter, eksotiske omgivelser, .. stemning Ƒ På safariparkens store savanneområde er det muligt at opleve eksotiske dyr på nært hold BerlT91 • (ofø) som virker fremmedartet (og mærkelig). Mærkelig is strongly evaluative in its meaning. 15. My translation. Danish original: Mor […] 1. en Indbygger af det nordlige Afrika eller Mauritanien. Disse kaldes nu i Almindelighed Maurer. 2. en Neger.

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ferentiation of various meanings of the form on the microstructure of the dictionary article can be interpreted within a concept of ideological polysemy, frequently used to characterize political vocabulary. Diverse meanings are, on the surface, clearly differentiated in this kind of presentation although the individual capability to perceive such a differentiation could be questioned from a usage focused perspective. Instead, I suppose that the different meanings are conceptually blended (Fauconnier 1997) so that a racist usage becomes the norm. Seventy years later in the 1933 dictionary, an equation between moor and maure takes place. At the same time however, maure is de¿ned on the basis of a religious categorization. ODS 1933 14: 341 Maure […] 1) originally an inhabitant of the Northwestern parts of Africa (Mauritania). […] especially for the mohammedan folk of Berber Arabic race, which in the middle ages occupied Spain coming from Nothern Africa. […] 2) (today only rarely) for Mohammedans or Arabs more in general.16 Moor […] 1) (obsolete) inhabitants of North Africa with a dark skin colour, esp.: Maurer, in a wider meaning, folk of this race: negro. The maurers broke into Spain and occupied almost the whole country.17

If we compare these entries to the earlier ones and those in later dictionaries, we can see an extension of the meaning for moor to “persons of the black race”. On the other side, there is a blending of moor and maure together with a blending of religious and racist concepts. With regard to British English, Loomba (1998: 106) makes a similar observation: Religious difference thus became (often rather confusedly) an index of and metaphor for racial, cultural and ethnic differences. […] Religious and cultural prejudice against both blackness and Islam, each of which was seen to be the handiwork of the Devil, intensi¿ed the connection between them.

However, the blending of categorizations of religion and race is not new in the colonial period but very prominent. The dynamics underlying religious concep16. My translation. Danish original: Maurer […] 1) egl. om indbygger af det nordvestlige Afrika (Mauretanien). […] spec. om det muhamedanske folk af berbiskarabisk race, der i middealderen fra Nordafrika trængte ind i Spanien og satte sig fast der. […] 2) (nu sj.) om muhamedaner ell. araber i al alm. 17. My translation. Danish original: Mor […] 1) (uden for talem. nu arkais.) om de mørkhudede indbyggere i Nordafrika, spec.: maurer; i videre anv., om folk af den sort race: neger. de Morer (faldt) ind udi Spanien, ob gemægtigede sig fast det heele Rige.

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tualizations over time can even be observed, if the entries for heathen (hedning) are analyzed. 3.3.5. Perspective in meaning explanations All dictionary entries for maure show an identical perspective, as is illustrated one more time with an example from a more recent dictionary from 2001: PNO 2001, 2: 881 maure 1. a person from the Western parts of North Africa who belongs to the Berber or Arabian race; esp. Arabs who occupied Spain in the middle ages = moor18

The perspective is restricted here to Europe. The other is conceptualized as dangerous and invasive. This example shows how the other in a colonial perspective takes over conceptualizations of being dangerous. Instead of, at least, also referring to the relevance of the concepts of mor and maure within the colonial situation, the act of colonization is transferred and restricted to a European context, making Europeans the victims of brutal acts of colonization. The dictionary entry could instead emphasize the cultural wealth brought to Spain by the maurers. Still another possibility would have been to mention the brutal slaughter and expulsion of maurers in the context of Spanish Christianization. These not realized entries are meant to show here that only one possible perspective is realized in the dictionary entry and that other aspects and perspectives have been ignored. 3.3.6. Asymmetrical antonyms and oppositions Another way in which the other is constructed in dictionaries is through the usage of asymmetrical antonyms in meaning explication. NDO 1969 1: 409f. white II […] the white race opposition: the coloured races19

18. My translation. Danish original: maurer 1. en person fra den vestlige del af Nordafrika som tilhører den berbiske el. arabiske race; især om de arabere der i middelalderen trængte op i Spanien = mor. 19. My translation. Danish original: hvid II […] den hvide race modsat: de farvede racer.

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The singular construction “white race” is put in opposition to the plural construction “the coloured races” so that an asymmetrical opposition evolves. The prominent position of white is thus re-af¿rmed, and the symbolic value of white as colorless contrasted to colored is also underlined. Skin color as the prime signi¿er of racial identity is recon¿rmed without questioning the generalizing images underlying the concepts of white and colored (in this case) or the relevance of skin color at all (see Nduka-Agwu and Hornscheidt 2010). In contrast to “white race” in the dictionary entry, “coloured races” serves as a collective term, subsuming different categorizations and giving them the same status towards the “white race” so that the hierarchical duality of a categorization of race is underlined. As can be seen in the following example, another more indirect, and therefore extremely powerful strategy, is the use of implicit asymmetrical oppositions: ODS-S 4: 1126

coloni-butter a. butter from the earlier English colonies Australia and New Zealand 20

“Coloni-butter” as a term has been used in the Danish colonial context for the butter imported from their Denmark’s colonies in the West Indies. In the only dictionary mentioning the term, it is, instead of referring to a Danish historical context, transferred to an English colonial situation. By way of this, the Danish colonial reality is made invisible and a conceptualization of colonialism is in a subtle way transferred to England. Thus, in the dictionaries an opposition of European countries and colonies is constructed for countries other than Denmark, so that Denmark becomes a neutral observer in the context of colonialism. To underline this hypothesis of Danish neutralization towards colonialism, further strategies can be considered. 3.3.7. References to history An important question to be asked in this context is, whether there are any references to historical events in the monolingual dictionaries. One would most expect to ¿nd them in concrete examples, often mentioned after an explanation of meaning. It is the function of meaning examples according to lexicographical theory to give prototypical usage situations for certain words (Harras 1989). In the 14 dictionaries and more than 50 words and word con20. My translation. Danish original: Koloni-smør, et. smør fra de tidligere engelske kolonier Australien og New Zealand.

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structions investigated, I have only found three concrete references to Danish colonialism: DO 1859 1: 305 colony […] The Danish colonies in the West Indies21 DOF 1907 1: 491 colonial […] counsel, a, regional, partly laws constituting person, esp. in the West Indies22 DOF 1914: 134 plantation-colony […] 2) (esp. in the West and East Indies)23

In all three cases, reference made is to the Caribbean plantation colonies of Denmark so that other colonial occupation forms realized by Denmark, especially those based on slave trade, become invisible. Due to that, we can see here in the rare cases mentioning Denmark in the context of colonialism, a form of prototypicalization of a concept of Danish colonies. Moreover, only in the 1859 dictionary, the relationship between Denmark and its colonies is explicated, in the 1907 and 1914 dictionaries Denmark is implied but never mentioned. After 1914, there is not a single reference to Denmark as colonizing state or about Danish colonies in the monolingual dictionaries. In addition to that, colonies and the act of colonization are always depicted as belonging to act of discovery, as two of countless examples in the dictionaries show. GF 1974 colonist = new-builder 24 DSO 1957: 129 colony – new-build, protectorate, mandate25

By using the af¿x ‘new’, colonies become void spaces for projections of new spaces and imaginations for the colonizers. The impression is given in the dic21. My translation. Danish original: Colonie […] De danske Colonier i Vestindien. 22. My translation. Danish original: kolonial […] -raad, et, kommunalt, til Dels lovgivende Raad, særl. i Vestindien. 23. My translation. Danish original: plantage […] 2) (is. i Vest- og Østindien). 24. My translation. Danish original: kolonist = nybyggere. 25. My translation. Danish original: koloni – nybygd, protektorat, mandate.

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tionaries that the colonies are uninhabited. A reference to the colonial situation as the, very often, brutal meeting between different groups in the process of occupation is made invisible in the dictionary entries. Loomba (1998: 1) makes a similar observation with regard to the Oxford English Dictionary and its de¿nition of colonialism: This de¿nition, quite remarkably, avoids any reference to people other than the colonizers, people who might already have been living in those places where colonies were established. Hence it evacuates the word ‘colonialism’ of any implication of an encounter between peoples, or of conquest and domination. There is no hint that the ‘new locality’ may not be so ‘new’ and that the process of ‘forming a community’ might be somewhat unfair.

By using certain encyclopedic information in the examples of usage in the dictionaries, the impression of neutral information given here is enhanced. Beside this strategy of transfer of historical references, another strategy can be isolated in this context: Some word entries, which could be explained with reference to colonialism, are instead explained with reference to more recent history and focused on Germany. We can ¿nd examples like “Germany’s barbarism in the period of Hitler” or “The Polish people belonged to an inferior race according to the Nazi-people. They were meant to work as slave-workers for the German herrenvolk.”26 Both examples are historically correct, but at the same time, they show a partial transfer from a concept of Danish history to German history when negative connotations are involved. Hermanns’ (1982) hypothesis of a lack of “present past” in monolingual dictionaries can thus be differentiated here even further: There is a “present past” to be found in Danish monolingual dictionaries, but it is transposed from Denmark and inscribed onto other countries. This is the case, when we have to deal with concepts, which are today evaluated as questionable and problematic. This hypothesis is further underlined by the following observation: In the dictionaries under investigation, there is only one piece of evidence indicating Denmark’s involvement – a usage example – in slave trade.

26. My translations. Danish originals: Tysklands Barbarisering i Hitlertiden. (ODS-S), herrefolk […] (folkeslag der hersker (el. ønsker at herske) over andre folk som det anser for laverestående Ƒ Polakkerne .. tilhørte efter nazisternes opfattelse en mindreværdig race. De skulle for fremtiden være slavearbejdere for det tyske herrefolk skoleb-hist.89b).

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ODS 1933 14: 1155ff. negro […] –trade […] beginning in the year 1803 the negro-trade for the royal subordinates had to come to an end. […] The Danish king was exemplary with regard to the abolition of negro-trade.27

The only evidence of involvement illustrates a positively evaluated activity – the role of Denmark in abolishing slave trade as a more general phenomenon. We can consequently see that not only are the colonized speci¿ed and differentiated as others, as has been shown especially with respect to English discourses (see Hulme 1986, Loomba 1998), but the colonizers themselves are differentiated, too. This is interpreted as a powerful but subtle strategy of selflegitimation in a postcolonial period. It however, simultaneously shows the continuation of colonial processes and ideologies. 3.3.8. Metalinguistic comments Metalinguistic comments reveal how colonialism and racism are constructed in monolingual dictionaries. A special emphasis is placed here on evaluative comments as a subgroup of metalinguistic comments. Evaluative comments present the attitudes ‘normally’ linked to a certain word or phrase. They are used to explain possible connotations of a word (Malkiel 1989). As a prominent example, the metalinguistic comments connected to the word neger (negro) are investigated against the background of an intensive public discussion on the derogatory content of the word in Denmark in the 1970s and 1980s (Frost 1997). The analysis shows that not a single dictionary after the 1970s and 1980s reacts in its metalinguistic comments to the public negotiation of the usage of the term. PNO 2001, 2: 952ff. negro 1. a person with negroid descent nigger […] 1. (discriminatory): = negro28

Instead, the derogation is subscribed to the form nigger. By way of this, the assumed neutrality of the form neger is reproduced. Nigger on the other hand is no longer in usage in spoken and written Danish today so that the ‘problem’ 27. My translation. Danish original: neger […] –handel […] Med Begyndelsen af Aaret 1803 skal al Negerhandel for de Kgl. Undersaatter ophøre. […] Den danske Konge gav Exemplet paa Negerhandelns Afskaffelse. 28. My translation. Danish original: neger 1. en person af negroid afstamning = sort, negroid; nigger […] 1. (Neds.): = NEGER.

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of racist appellation is constructed as non-problematic for Denmark in a subtle way. Furthermore, the example demonstrates a missing reÀexivity and reaction of dictionaries to other discourses. The status of dictionaries as resources for actual language usage can be questioned from here. The postulated functions of monolingual dictionaries either to inform or/and to document current language usage are not ful¿lled. A second aspect of metalinguistic comments closely connected to the ¿rst one is the graphic and semantic representation. There is a more general tendency in Danish monolingual dictionaries to refrain from metalinguistic comments. The comments on nigger are a prominent exception. The new Danish dictionary (DDO 2003/2004), which will probably become the future source for Danish linguistic norms, in its ¿rst two volumes presents in contrast to the earlier dictionaries a number of different evaluative metalinguistic comments: DDO 2003/2004 primitive folk (sometimes derogatory)29 barbarian (is also used as derogatory term)30 heathen (often derogatory or condemning)31

By using brackets to mark off the evaluative comments, they are constructed as possible usage options and stylistic comments that are not fundamental to the meaning of the words denoted. Hence, the derogatory practice becomes a tentatively named possibility of usage (see also Tirrell 1999). It is either intangibly modi¿ed in its frequency or it becomes a responsibility of the speakers by using a passive construction. The user of a dictionary thus does not get any information on the relevance of the metalinguistic comments: A non-derogatory usage becomes the implicit normality by tentatively mentioning a derogatory usage in an insubstantial way i.e. only in brackets. Furthermore, a differentiation between meaning as static and usage as dynamic option is reproduced here as well.

4.

Conclusions

The different levels of analysis presented here show the complexity of a process of constructing self and other/s in colonial and postcolonial discourse. Monolingual dictionaries as extremely inÀuential discourses in society (Zgusta 1989a, b) have been shown to be an interesting resource for a critical postco29. My translation. Danish original: primitivt folk (undertiden nedsættende). 30. My translation. Danish original: barbar (bruges også som skældsord). 31. My translation. Danish original: hedning (ofte nedsættende el. fordømmende).

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lonial linguistic analysis. Moreover, the traditional concept of meaning and the differentiation between core meaning and usage has been con¿rmed for all dictionaries under investigation. This has been criticized by perspectivepragmatic theory. As mentioned at the beginning, the words under investigation here have been classi¿ed as political vocabulary. Political vocabulary is normally characterized by a strong semantic instability since it is under continuous ¿ght from different political groups. As has been shown in the analyses with regard to the wording of colonialism, a variety of different meanings are totally lacking in the dictionaries’ presentations. Instead of being perceived and denoted as ideology, colonialism is solely conceptualized as a historical phase. This makes a critical attitude towards colonialism in a subtle way impossible. It contributes to a wider ignorance of dictionary users towards the ideological site of colonialism, and can be interpreted as having an impact, up to today, on the perception of racism. An interesting observation to be mentioned here for the Danish context is the public negotiation of racism as a totally new phenomenon to Denmark in the 1970s. The ignorance of colonialism as a part of Danish politics probably has contributed to this development in public perception. As has been shown, a detailed analysis of how colonialism is depicted in a linguistic source like monolingual dictionaries is a useful tool for an analysis within postcolonial studies. Hence, the integration of linguistic knowledge, especially from the ¿eld of critical discourse studies and pragmatics seems a useful project in the establishment of a critical postcolonial linguistics as well as a linguistic perspective in Critical Whiteness Studies. Not only is colonialism an extremely interesting topic and ideology for this kind of linguistic analysis, it is also a crucial historical phase for the establishment of linguistics.

References Anchimbe, Eric (ed.) 2007 Linguistic Identity in Postcolonial Multilingual Spaces. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Ashcroft, Bill, Gareth Grif¿ths and Helen Tif¿n 2000 Post-colonial Studies. The Key Concepts. London: Routledge. Bakker, Peter 2003 Scandinavians and their pidgins and creoles. Acta Hafniensia 35: 95 – 114. Blommaert, Jan 1999 State, Ideology and Language in Tanzania. Cologne: Köppe.

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Brathwaite, Edward Kamau 1984 History of the Voice: The Development of Nation Language in Anglophone Caribbean Poetry. London: New Beacon. Calvet, Louis-Jean 1998 Language Wars and Linguistic Politics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Carr, Helen 1985 Woman/Indian, the ‘American’ and its others’. In: Barker, Francis, Peter Hulme, Marc Iversen and Diana Loxley (eds.), Europe and its Others. Vol. 2. Colchester: University of Essex Press. Danlexgruppen 1987 Ordbøger i Danmark. En oversigt. Copenhagen: University Copenhagen. DeGraff, Michel 2001 On the origins of Creoles. A Cartesian critique of ‘neo’-Darwinian linguistics. Linguistic Typology 2(3): 213 – 310. DeGraff, Michel 2002 Relexi¿cation. A reevaluation. Anthropological Linguistics 44: 321 – 414. DeGraff, Michel 2005 Linguists’ most dangerous myth: The fallacy of linguistic exceptionalism. Language in Society 34: 533 – 591. Dietrich, Anette 2007 Weiße Weiblichkeiten: Konstruktionen von «Rasse» und Geschlecht im deutschen Kolonialismus. Bielefeld: Transcript. Fabian, Johannes 1986 Language and Colonial Power: The Appropriation of Swahili in the Former Belgian Congo 1880 – 1938. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Fanon, Frantz 1952 Peau Noire, Masques Blancs. Paris: Editions du Seuil. Fauconnier, Gilles 1997 Mappings in Thought and Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Feldbæk, Ole and Ole Justesen 1980 Danmarks historie: Kolonierne i Asien og Afrika. Copenhagen: Politikens Forlag. Fishman, Joshua A. 1995 Dictionaries as culturally constructed and as culture-constructing artifacts: The reciprocity view as seen from Yiddish sources. In: Kachru, Braj B. and Henry Kahane (eds.), pp. 29 – 34. Frost, Pernille J. 1997 En strid om ord. Det politisk korrekte sprog. Copenhagen: Forlag Fremad.

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Gottlieb, Henrik, Jens Erik Mogensen and Arne Zettersten (eds.) 2002 Symposium on Lexicography X. Proceedings of the tenth international symposium on lexicography May 4 – 6, 2000 at the University of Copenhagen. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Hall, Stuart 2002 Wann gab es ‘das Postkoloniale’? In: Conrad, Sebastian and Shalini Randeria (eds.), Jenseits des Eurozentrismus. Postkoloniale Perspektiven in den Geschichts- und Kulturwissenschaften. Frankfurt/M.: Campus. 219 – 246. Harras, Gisela 1989 Zu einer Theorie des lexikographischen Beispiels. In: Hausmann, Franz Josef et al. (eds.), pp. 607 – 614. Hausmann, Franz Josef 1989 Die gesellschaftlichen Aufgaben der Lexikographie in Geschichte und Gegenwart. In: Hausmann, Franz Josef et al. (eds.), pp. 1 – 19. Hausmann, Franz Josef, Oskar Reichmann, Herbert Ernst Wiegand and Ladislav Zgusta (eds.) 1989 Wörterbücher: Ein internationales Handbuch zur Lexikographie. vol. 1. Berlin: de Gruyter. Hermanns, Fritz 1982 Brisante Wörter. Zur lexikographischen Behandlung parteisprachlicher Wörter and Wendungen in Wörterbüchern der deutschen Gegenwartssprache. In: Wiegand, Herbert Ernst (ed.) Studien zur neuhochdeutschen Lexikographie II. Germanistische Linguistik 3 – 6 (80): 87 – 108. Hjorth, Poul Lindegård 1990 Danish lexicography. In: Hausmann, Franz Josef et al. (eds.), pp. 1913 – 1922. Hjorth, Poul Lindegård 1989 Leksikogra¿. In: Forskningspro¿ler (Ed.), Selskab for Nordisk Filologi. Copenhagen: Nordisk Forlag. 27 – 63. Hooks, Bell 1984 Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center. Boston: South End Press. Hornscheidt, Antje Lann 2005 (Nicht)Benennungen. Critical Whiteness Studies und Linguistik. In: Maisha M. Eggers, Grada Kilomba, Peggy Piesche, Susan Arndt (eds.), Mythen, Masken und Subjekte. Kritische Weißseinsforschung in Deutschland. Münster: UnRast-Verlag. Hornscheidt, Antje Lann 2008 A concrete research agenda for critical lexicographic research within critical discourse studies: An investigation into racism/colonialism in monolingual Danish, German and Swedish dictionaries. Critical Discourse Studies 5(2): 107 – 132.

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Hornscheidt, Antje Lann and Stefan Göttel 2004 Manifestationen von Rassismus in Texten ohne rassistische BegrifÀichkeiten. Ein Instrumentarium zum kritischen Lesen von Texten und eine exemplarische Textanalyse. In: Arndt, Susan and Antje Hornscheidt (eds.), pp. 224 – 251. Hoxcer Jensen, Peter, Leif Haar, Morten Hahn-Pedersen, Kaare Ulrich Jessen and Aksel Damsgaard-Madsen (eds.), 1983 Dansk kolonihistorie. Indføring og studier. Århus: Forlaget HISTORIA. Hulme, Peter 1986 Colonial Encounters, Europe and the Native Carribbean 1492 – 1797. London: Methuen. Irvine, Judith 1995 The family romance of colonial linguistics: Gender and family in nineteenth-century representations of African languages. Pragmatics 5(2): 139 – 153. Kachru, Braj B. and Henry Kahane (eds.) 1995 Cultures, Ideologies, and the Dictionary. Studies in Honor of Ladislav Zgusta. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Karpova, Olga and Svetlana Manik 2002 Public political vocabulary: Model of a dictionary. In: Gottlieb, Henrik et al. (eds.), pp. 173 – 184. Lara, Luis Fernando 1995 Towards a theory of the cultural dictionary. In: Kachru, Braj B. and Henry Kahane (eds.), pp. 41 – 51. Loomba, Ania 1998 Colonialism/Postcolonialism. London: Routledge. Malkiel, Yakov 1989 Wörterbücher und Normativität. In: Hausmann, Franz Josef et al. (eds.), pp. 63 – 69. McClintock, Annie 1995 Imperial Leather: Race, Gender, and Sexuality in the Colonial Contest. London: Routledge. Mühleisen, Susanne 2002 Creole Discourse: Exploring Prestige Formation and Change across Carribbean English-Lexicon Creoles. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Mufwene, S. Salikoko 1994 New Englishes and the criteria for naming them. World Englishes 13: 21 – 31. Mufwene, S. Salikoko 2001 The Ecology of Language Evolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Nduka-Agwu, Adibeli and Antje Lann Hornscheidt 2010 Rassismus auf gut deutsch. Ein kritisches Nachschlagewerk zu rassistischen Sprachhandlungen. Frankfurt/Main: Brandes&Apsel. Osterhammel, Jürgen 2003 Kolonialismus. Geschichte, Formen, Folgen. München: C.H. Beck. Phillipson, Robert 1992 Linguistic Imperialism. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Römer, Ruth 1985 Sprachwissenschaft und Rassenideologie. München: Fink. Said, Edward 1978 Orientalism. London: Routledge. Spurr, David 1993 The Rhetoric of Empire: Colonial Discourse in Journalism, Travel Writing, and Imperial Administration. Durham: Duke University Press. Tirrell, Lynne 1999 Derogatory terms. Racism, sexism, and the inferential role theory of meaning. In: Hendricks, Christina and Kelly Oliver (Eds.), Language and Liberation: Feminism, Philosophy, and Language. Albany. 41 – 78. Wiegand, Herbert Ernst 1998 Wörterbuchforschung. Untersuchungen zur Wörterbuchbenutzung, zur Theorie, Geschichte, Kritik and Automatisierung der Lexikographie. Vol. 1. Berlin: de Gruyter. Zabus, Chantal 1991 The African Palimpsest: Indigenization of Language in the West African Europhone novel. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Zgusta, Ladislav 1989a Principles of monolingual lexicography. In: Hausmann, Franz Josef et al. (eds.), pp. 287 – 296. Zgusta, Ladislav 1989b The role of dictionaries in the genesis and development of the standard. In: Hausmann, Franz Josef et al. (eds.), pp. 70 – 79.

Appendix: Monolingual Danish dictionaries and their abbreviations DDO 2003/2004 DO 1859

Den danske ordbok 2003/2004 vol. 1 and 2. Gyldendal, Copenhagen. Dansk ordbog indeholdende det danske sprogs stammeord tilligemed aÀedede og sammensatte ord, efter den nuværende sprogbrug forklarede i deres forskiellige betydninger, og ved talemaader og exempler oblyste. C. Molbeck. 1859 2. revised version. 2 vols. Gyldendal, Copenhagen.

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DOF 1907/1914

Dansk Ordbog for folket. 1907/1914 B.T. Dahl, H. Hammer und Hans Dahl (Ed.). 2 vols. Gyldendal/Nordisk Forlag, Copenhagen and Kristiania. DSO 1957 Dansk synonym ordbog, 1957 (4. revised version) Ulla Albeck, Mikal Rode and Erik Timmermann (Ed.). J.H. Schultz Forlag, Copenhagen. GF 1974 Gyldendals fremmedordbog 1974 (6. revised version) Sven Brüel (Ed.). Gyldendal, Copenhagen. NDO 1969 Nudansk Ordbog 1969 (4. version), Lis Jacobsen (Ed.). 2 vols. Politikens Forlag, Copenhagen. NDO 1988 Nudansk Ordbog 1988 (6. version), Lis Jacobsen (Ed.). Politikens Forlag, Copenhagen. NO 1999 Nye ord. Ordbog over nye ord i dansk 1955 – 1998. 1999 Pia Jarvad. Gyldendal, Copenhagen. NOD 1988 Nye ord i dansk 1955 – 75. 1984 Pia Riber Petersen (Ed.). Dansk Sprognævns skrifter 11, Copenhagen. ODS 1918 – 1956 Ordbog over det danske Sprog. 1918 – 1956 Verner Dahlerup (Ed.). 28 vols. Gyldendal, Copenhagen. ODS-S 1992 – 2001 Supplement til Ordbog over det danske Sprog 1992/1994/1997/2001 4 vols (A-Løvtelt). Gyldendal, Copenhagen. PNO 2001 Politikens Nudansk ordbog med etymologi. 2001 2 vols. Politikens ordbøger, Copenhagen. PSO 1982 Politikens Slangordbok, 1982 Søren Anker-Møller, Hanne Jensen and Peter Stray Jørgensen (Ed.). Politikens Forlag, Copenhagen. PSO 1993 Politikens Slangordbok, 1993 (4. version) Søren Anker-Møller, Hanne Jensen and Peter Stray Jørgensen (Ed.). Politikens Forlag, Copenhagen.

Chapter 14 Cape Verdean Creole in Lisbon: The young generation’s perspective Christina Märzhäuser

1.

Introduction

Migration as a central element of globalisation multiplies linguistic diversity in many countries, especially in the urban areas. The integration of non-native inhabitants and emerging linguistic minorities remains a great challenge to (especially monolingual) nation-states. For the members of migrant minority groups, the language of origin which features as a prominent marker of ethnic identity is important for maintaining local community networks and transnational family ties. Competence in the language of the host country is also important because it serves as socio-economic capital and key for successful integration in the new home. For Cape Verdean migrants (the largest immigrant group in Portugal) and their descendants, Portuguese is the language of the host country while Cape Verdean Creole (CVC), referred to by its speakers also as Kabuverdianu or Kriolu, is the language of origin. I have used these names interchangeably in this chapter. This chapter builds on two successive case studies1, participant-observation and qualitative interviews with young CVC speakers of Cape Verdean descent from suburban Lisbon. The surveys were carried out in 2005 and 2006. From the preliminary projections, CVC is vital as an in-group language among CVC speakers, and is now even spreading to non-Cape-Verdean peer group members. The levels of competence in CVC of the non-native speakers, who acquire CVC in the respective quarters and schools, stretches from single items picked up from Rap lyrics and conversations through passive competence to Àuency. 1. Märzhäuser, Christina (2005) Entre Kriolu e Português – Linguistic situation of Cape Verdean migrants in Greater Lisbon: A case study in Alto da Cova da Moura, Master thesis LMU Munich; and my dissertation: (LMU Munich/Coimbra) Märzhäuser (2011) Portugiesisch und Kabuverdianu in Kontakt. Muster des Code – switching und lexikalische Innovationen in Raptexten aus Lissabon, Peter Lang.

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This chapter shows how the bilingual speakers choose Kriolu as a marker of cultural identity, thus reversing the stigma attached to the Creole. This could effectively be interpreted as an act of postcolonial emancipation. It investigates the motivations of using CVC in cultural productions such as Rap music.

2.

Cape Verde and its Creole

The genesis of Cape Verdean Creole, a Portuguese-based Creole with WestAfrican substrate-languages, with the greatest inÀuence from Wolof and Mandinka, was on the islands of Cape Verde (see Lang et al. 2006). This formerly unpopulated archipelago, situated west of Africa facing Senegal in the Atlantic Ocean, was a base for the Portuguese slave-trade to Europe and across the Atlantic. It was a Portuguese colony between 1460 and 1975. The population is made up of descendants of various West-African ethnic groups deported or resettled as (freed) slaves, and Portuguese settlers. Through intermarriage in the early years of (re)settlement a mixed society was formed and this also marked the genesis of its Creole. French (2003) refers to CVC as a mixture of African and European elements, a fact which holds both for the society as well as for its culture and language. While this is true, it is always not possible to tell which had a greater impact but, as French (2003) says below, the new culture is so distinct that it makes no sense trying to trace its features to either African or European origins. In the mixing of African cultural elements and the inÀuences of Catholicism and Western civilization, it is not always possible to tell whether the African or the European inÀuence is greater. Rather, the intermixture is so complete that it makes more sense to speak of the evolution of a distinct and separate culture with its own expressive instrument: Crioulo. (Robert French, www.creoleinstitute.org, 2003)

There are signi¿cant dialectal differences between the Creole varieties of the nine islands that make up Cape Verde. The main dialectal distinctions are often made between the southern varieties of the Sotavento and the main island Santiago on the one hand, and the northern varieties of São Vincente and the other islands of the Barlavento group on the other. In addition to the distinctive diatopic features of the islands’ dialects, there are also urban-rural and sociolectal variations on each island. Common to all islands is the diglossic situation between Portuguese and CVC. Kabuverdianu is the national language and is very widely spoken. It is a written language even though there is a proposal for a uni¿ed alphabet,

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ALUPEC (Alfabeto Uni¿cado para a Escrita do Caboverdiano, i.e. Uni¿ed Alphabet for Cape Verdean Writing). It also enjoys a literary tradition. CVC has not yet been completely transformed into an of¿cial language in Cape Verde. Portuguese, the language of the former colonialists, remains the of¿cial language and is used for administration, the media and education. The diglossic co-existence of the two languages and widespread bilingualism in them have produced a situation of language contact in Cape Verde, which has led to a kind of variation that has been sketched as a divided post-Creolecontinuum. It stretches from the basilectal to the acrolectal levels of Creole on the one hand and Portuguese varieties on the other. This idea is illustrated in Figure 1 based on the designations of these varieties by Ramos (1985: 227 cited in Perl et al. 1994: 16): Kriolu Kriolu Kriolu fundu - leve - aportuguesado

Português Português Português acrioulizado - regional - culto

Figure 1. Divided post-creole-continuum

Apart from the above divided continuum, other models prefer a horizontal division of the Creole and its former superstrate, Portuguese. This is the model Sobotta (2006) proposes for Guadeloupe. Variation in local CVC and Portuguese varieties in Cape Verde certainly is an issue for further study, one too far removed from the scope of this chapter. The process of making CVC a second of¿cial language is still far from being completed, thus the Creole is neither used on formal occasions nor in of¿cial documents. Bilingual schooling, already established since the 1980s in some places in the US due to former American legislation for bilingual citizens, has recently started on Cape Verde. The of¿cial status of Kriolu, which had for centuries been mistreated as a ‘badly spoken dialect/variety of Portuguese’, continues to be an issue of political debate. This is ironical because CVC had played the role of a symbol of national unity and culture long before the islands’ independence in 1975. This, of course, is just one of the many incongruent binaries of most postcolonial communities referred to by Anchimbe in the introduction to this volume. It fortunately indicates, as French (2003) signals above, that these communities are evolving in distinct ways through their hybrid and hybridising patterns in language(s) and culture. Life on the archipelago has been marked by economic dif¿culties caused by isolation, droughts and famines. This has led to a high net migration rate of

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11.83 migrants per 1000 population per annum. In fact, of a total 1.2 million Cape Verdeans, nearly 700,000 live abroad (Evora-Sagna et al. 2002: 6).2 As the Instituto das Comunidades puts it: Cabo Verde é um país singular. Estima-se que existe mais caboverdeanos fora do que a população residente. No entanto, desconhece-se o número exacto dos emigrantes caboverdeanos e seus descendentes. (www.ic.cv) Cape Verde is a special country. It is estimated that more Cape Verdeans live abroad than on the islands. The exact ¿gures of emigrants and their descendants is unknown. (my translation)

Traditional emigration destinations for most Cape Verdeans have been the USA, Europe, African countries like Senegal, Angola and, due to forced migration during the Salazar era, São Tomé & Príncipe. In Europe, Portugal ranks ¿rst with a Cape Verdean community of over 100,000 persons, followed by France, the Netherlands, Italy and Spain. Of course, the numbers in Table 1 are mostly approximations and have to be taken with a pinch of salt. This is because 1) many ¿rst generation migrants have already acquired Portuguese nationality, and 2) their descendants are sometimes counted as Cape Verdeans and at other times as Portuguese citizens. These two factors have rendered statistics generally unreliable.

3.

Cape Verdean Creole in Portugal

Cape Verdeans are the largest immigrant group as well as the biggest group among PALOP3 immigrants in Portugal. Most of the other immigrants in Portugal come from countries like Brazil, Angola, Guinea-Bissau, Great Britain, Germany, Spain and recently various Eastern European countries, and on a smaller scale São Tomé & Príncipe, Mozambique and remigration from France. The Cape Verdean Instituto das Comunidades (www. ic.cv) estimated that in 1998 there were about 80,000 Cape Verdeans living in Portugal, 67,000 (i.e. 84%) of them in Lisbon and Sétubal alone. Estimates by the Cape Verdean Embassy in Lisbon show that there were about 140,000 Cape Verdeans in Portugal in 2009. Most of them are concentrated around Greater Lisbon. We can, therefore, taking into account different sources, propose that there are about 2. Estimate of the Cape Verdean National Statistics Institute (INE), see Evora-Sagna et al. (2002: 6) 3. PALOP = Países Africanos de Língua O¿cial Portuguesa (African countries with Portuguese as of¿cial language)

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100,000 speakers of CVC in Portugal. We could have a glimpse of the impact of CVC in Portugal by looking at the number of Cape Verdeans in the country. As Table 1 shows, there were close to a 100,000 of them in 2006 (¿gures are curled from www.sef.pt, 2006). Table 1. Cape Verdeans in Portugal in 2006 (www.sef.pt) Status

Number

Cape Verdeans with legalized residence

55,000

CVs who acquired Portuguese nationality

40,000

Descendants of Cape Verdeans born in Portugal

– (belong to groups 1 and 2)

Non-native speakers of CVC

–

Other immigrant groups that have competence in CVC are speakers of the Creoles of Guinea and São Tomé who adopt CVC due to its majority role within the Luso-African minority population in Portugal (especially the Greater Lisbon area). In addition, there are other speakers of CVC as L2 who are of Portuguese descent, as I will show later. Thus, the vitality of Cape Verdean Creole and the number of its speakers make this quote from a 1986 Portuguese newspaper in the archive of Moinho de Juventude, that “Kriolu é a segunda língua do país” (Creole is the second language of the country [Portugal]) still valid today, more than twenty years later. This fact, though, passes mostly unnoticed outside the Lisbon metropolitan area, where roughly 80% percent of all Cape Verdean migrants in Portugal have settled, especially in suburban areas like Amadora (Linha de Sintra), Chelas, along the Linha de Cascais and on the south side of the Tagus River, Margem Sul. The settlement concentration, mainly in suburban areas and often in the so-called bairros (quarters), degraded areas with slum, or still in self-built or social housing, gives rise to glossotopic ‘islands’ with high percentages of Cape Verdeans where Cape Verdean Creole is the language of everyday transaction. The term glossotope is taken from Krefeld’s (2004) concept about migration linguistics. It designates a small scale communicative area of linguistic communities, which can be seen as the basic unit of dialectal research. It could also be productively applied to urban migrant settings. The term is used here in the latter sense to designate a space where a habitual local use of a migrant language, in this case CVC, prevails, even though also in co-existence with Portuguese. For both languages different varieties are found to be in use. The following quote from a young informant from the quarter Alto da Cova da Moura (A.C.M.) located on the suburban train route Linha de Sintra, in a so-

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ciological study on young people’s sociability in A.C.M. by Raposo (2003: 83), shows how CVC is the ¿rst choice for the bilingual speakers within these areas: Aqui dentro do bairro um gajo fala só crioulo, um gajo pode falar português, sim senhor à vontade, mas um gajo sente-se mais à vontade a falar crioulo porque um gajo nem pensa em falar em crioulo ou português, de repente com um gajo posso falar em crioulo mas com outro gajo posso falar português, mas o crioulo vem sempre à tona. (Interview in Alto da Cova da Moura by Raposo 05/2003) Here in the bairro we only speak Creole. Of course, I can speak Portuguese but I just feel more at ease when speaking Creole. I don’t think about whether to speak Creole or Portuguese – for example, I speak Creole with one person and then suddenly Portuguese with another – but Creole always surfaces. (my translation)

In the bairros, certain aspects of African culture are visible in linguistic habits, African-style shops, hairdressers, music, life on the streets, and so on. The journal África Hoje, for example, makes the following comment on the bairro A.C.M.: “O kizomba e o kuduro ouve-se em cada canto” (Kizomba and Kuduro [Cape Verdean and Angolan dance music] are heard at every corner) in an article entitled “A magia de reviver África” (N°192, August 2004). There is a strong sense of belonging to these places marked by African cultures inside Portugal. As an informant in a thesis by Domingues (2005: 54) on members of the Lisbon hip hop scene of African origin, clearly states: A linha de Sintra é o meu país natal. (…) Quando fui morar para a linha de Sintra, senti que era o mais próximo do que eu tenho de casa… vivo ali dentro como se aquilo fosse o meu país e não posso viver noutro país, tenho de viver ali. A Linha de Sintra não é Portugal, faz fronteira com Portugal, é muito diferente, é a zona da Europa com mais africanos, a convivência ali é muito diferente. (MC E, Interview Domingues) Linha da Sintra is my home country. When I came to live here, I felt that this was the closest I could get to what was home for me. I live here as if this were my country. I have to live here. Linha da Sintra is not Portugal, it’s on the border with Portugal, and it’s very different. It’s the area in Europe with the most Africans. Social life is very different here. (my translation)

The creation of a consistent identity by young Luso-Africans has often not been without complications. For instance, the young generation in these areas is confronted with two cultures, their respective African cultures on the one hand and the Portuguese culture on the other. This apart, they are also often faced with the task of developing their own hybrid identity and cultural as luso-africano, i.e. an identity as Portuguese of African descent. This is different

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from other situations of postcolonial hybridisation which take place in the excolonial country. See, for instance, Anchimbe’s (2007) notion of linguabridity in Cameroon. In the case of Portugal, the hybrid identities are constructed in the former colonialist country in a manner that resembles the concept of colonising the coloniser often discussed in relation to large diaspora communities. The problems of second and third generation immigrants have been widely discussed in scienti¿c literature and public discourse. In most cases, these overshadow dif¿culties that arise from negative attitudes of the host society (like racism, discrimination and exclusion) to these immigrants and also the poor socio-economic status of the immigrant population. The children and teenagers of Cape Verdean descent, mostly born in Portugal, are growing up in areas that have a high percentage of (African) migrant population, often in precarious socio-economic conditions. They suffer from social marginalization because of their skin colour and social origin, being stigmatised as do bairro, i.e. from the ghetto, as speakers themselves recounted in the interviews. Due to the high birth rate the population is exceedingly made up of young people. For example, in the A.C.M. neighbourhood more than 50% of the immigrants are younger than 25 years.4 This explains the social background of the group investigated. Returning to the issue of language, the group investigated can be characterized as generally being bilingual in Portuguese and Cape Verdean Creole, sometimes with competence in other languages. The level of competence in both languages and the extent of their use differ considerably between individual speakers from the same social background and from area to area. Focus in this chapter is not on this but rather on issues of identity construction and belonging, among other things.

4.

Case studies

The major aim of this chapter as signalled earlier is to investigate patterns and motivations of language use and emerging language contact phenomena among immigrant youths in Lisbon. Focus here is on the linguistic habits of young bilinguals in CVC and Portuguese. The analyses are based on data from my ¿eldwork trips in 2005 and 2006. The data are from situations of language use in the family, at school, in peer group interactions, in the neighbourhood, and semi-structured interviews on respondents’ language preferences and judgments on their competence. 4. See Ntama: Journal of African Music and Popular Culture. www.ntama.uni-mainz. de/content/view/62/40. (17 – 7 – 2004)

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25 primary school kids (aged 5 – 12) from A.C.M., 27 teenagers (aged 14 – 18) from A.C.M. and surrounding quarters, 18 rappers (aged 17 – 31) from different bairros, and (for comparison) 13 Cape Verdean students at a Lisbon university (who only came to Portugal for their studies while their families continue to live in Cape Verde) were surveyed in relation to their linguistic habits. In all, 83 respondents took part in various ways in the survey. While I have tried to report on speci¿c aspects about each of these groups, some of the ¿ndings in the later sections are generalised to all of them. This is because whereas there were signi¿cant points of departure, many similarities could still be identi¿ed even between the students who came to Lisbon for studies and teenagers born and bred in Lisbon. Observations from the ¿eld and qualitative interviews back up the ¿ndings, revealing a signi¿cant turn in language use and preference among the teens, which translates into different social and cultural phenomena. In the following part, language use in various domains of daily activities of the speakers, such as family, neighbourhood, school and the peer group, is sketched and the respective results are presented. 4.1.

Language in the family

The language situation within Cape Verdean immigrant families in Portugal is determined by the tensions between (linguistically) passing on the culture of origin from Cape Verde and adapting to or integrating the host society of Portugal. The question, therefore, is: Do people generally show resentment towards one or both of these languages? It may not be complete resentment as such but the degree of allegiance they pay to each of these two languages differs. Since CVC (as language of origin) and Portuguese (as language of the host country) already co-exist in Cape Verdean islands in a diglossic relationship, basic (though often very limited) competence in Portuguese is generally a rule for most ¿rst generation immigrants coming from Cape Verde. In Portugal though, CVC only plays the role of a minority language without any of¿cially acknowledged status. The following assumptions could be made about the place of languages between immigrant families and the host society. It is important to check some of these assumptions against the ¿ndings I made surveying Cape Verdeans in Lisbon. – It is generally assumed that language shift is complete after three generations. – The native, home language is normally (though not exclusively) spoken between the members of the family, near relatives and friends (who are members of the home community).

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– As a minority language, the immigrants’ language serves to keep up social links within the ethnic or immigrant group. – The dominant language of the host country is used in situations outside the family, especially formal situations like education, press, politics, etc. The ¿rst assumption does not seem to hold true for the group studied, as second and third generation Cape Verdeans in the bairros tend to maintain CVC. This is perhaps because CVC has parallel functions to Portuguese. While Portuguese is generally associated with of¿cial and formal life, CVC takes care of interpersonal and communal bonds between its speakers who also share a sociocultural background. The second assumption is exceedingly true. The language of origin is important within the family, to solidify relations with members of the family who live in the country of origin, especially the older generation. This was veri¿ed in my case studies, where speakers reported they made visits to Cape Verde, and also made phone calls and/or wrote letters to relatives on the islands. All these interactions require a good command of Creole. But the second assumption may not completely cover those Portuguese youths who are now learning CVC through rap music or from Cape Verdean peers in school and in the neighbourhood. For them CVC is not a home language but rather a social identity icon, one that sets them apart from their fellow school mates and neighbours. The fourth assumption holds true for the immigrants, and is not very different from the diglossic situation back home. Competence in standard Portuguese is important for success in the school system and on the job market. Nevertheless, the typical areas of employment like civil construction, cleaning and catering, which do not require advanced educational quali¿cation, weaken the claim that Portuguese is an indispensable prerequisite for access to the job market. In fact, many school drop-outs justify their situation with the claim that they would still be able to work in construction, where they would get along well with colloquial Portuguese and sometimes even Kriolu. So, why wait another couple of years to ¿nish school? This justi¿cation, together with the (negative) experiences on the Portuguese job market of older peers, often diminishes many teenagers’ thrive to advance in their level of standard Portuguese, in opposition to their parents’ expectations. This clearly indicates that many Cape Verdean immigrant families are facing a complicated situation, which is rendered even more complex when they live in a predominantly Creole-speaking environment, conceptualised above as a glossotope. Some parents thus opt to speak only Portuguese with their children instead of CVC. The parents’ competence in standard Portuguese does appear signi¿cant for the success of this strategy, as their language variety em-

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bodies a normative point of reference for the young learners. Apart from cases where children “want to speak better than their parents, because their parent’s Portuguese is so bad”, as one eleven year old girl said, the variety of Portuguese spoken by the parents is often accepted as a model, even if it does not correspond to the norm required at school. In many families the choice is not whether to speak Portuguese or CVC: family life becomes bilingual, and this trend seems also typical for the communication between the generation of speakers born in Portugal and their own children. This range of conÀicting patterns can be seen in the individual constellations in the speaker sample (Table 2). 4.1.1. Results Table 2 shows the different scenarios of language use found among the respondents. It is interesting to note that no child or student ¿tted into scenario (3). As expected, scenario (1) (i.e. 27 respondents), typi¿ed by the diglossic distribution of languages according to context, is the most common. Scenario (2), i.e. bilingualism in all areas (24 respondents), is also common but mostly with teenagers, given that they are enrolled in schools and hence have a higher exposure to Portuguese. These teenagers are the only ones (4 respondents) who use Portuguese at home (Scenario 3). Scenario (1) Creole at home, Portuguese outside family Scenario (2) Bilingual in all areas of life Scenario (3) Portuguese in the family, Creole in school and peer group Table 2. Language use according to contexts Samples

Scenario 1

Scenario 2

Scenario 3

Children

12

9

0

Teenagers

5

13

4

Students

10

2

0

Total

27

24

4

The ¿gures in Table 2 show that Scenario (1) is also typical for the students, whose families still live in Cape Verde. The same pattern actually holds for young speakers born in Portugal. This indicates that while children or students may acquire Portuguese in school, they continue to correlate with their parents

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in the home through the communal language CVC. It does not matter much if the parents are in Portugal or in Cape Verde. Scenario (3) arouses attention because it shows that CVC is also learned and spoken in school and among peers – some of them non-Africans. This third scenario is discussed in the following section. 4.2.

Language at school

Some background details about speakers of CVC in schools in the Lisbon area may help illustrate clearly the relevance of the phenomena studied here. First, an average of 5% of the pupils in the Lisbon area speaks a Creole at home. Many Cape Verdean pupils do have problems of competence in the Portuguese language. Extra lessons in Portuguese as a second language are obligatory for pupils with a foreign mother tongue, but optional for Cape Verdean pupils, as they are classi¿ed as native speakers of Portuguese due to the diglossic situation in Cape Verde. Second, there are over 200 primary schools with high percentages of Cape Verdean pupils in the Lisbon area. At the secondary school level there is only one school with over 10% of Cape Verdean pupils, usually concentration is less signi¿cant here. The language of instruction in the classroom is Portuguese, and generally the use of Creole at school is not welcomed by teachers, as Pereira (2003) explains in the following statement. Os alunos, em geral, assumem que devem esconder do professor a sua língua e usá-la apenas com os colegas. In general, the pupils think that they have to hide their language (Creole) from the teacher and only use it with their peers. (my translation)

This fact is complemented by the results I obtained in an earlier study (Märzhäuser 2006), where 40% of 25 children and 46% of 27 teenagers in the survey from the quarter A.C.M said that they often used Creole during lessons. This means that they speak Creole with their peers but behind the teacher’s back. 85.7% of the children and 84.6% of the teenagers in the survey from A.C.M. use Creole during school breaks. The use of CVC as peer group language at Portuguese schools was judged as an obstacle to achieving good results in Portuguese by the teachers. This situation is similar to other contexts where there is a high concentration of minority language speakers in schools, e.g. second generation Turkish pupils in Germany who generally speak Turkish within the peer group. The educative role of Portuguese schools as integrative institutions promoting the national language, Portuguese, is apparently inverted when schools turn out to be places

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for learning CVC. Whether it really is subtractive to the children’s competence in Portuguese, though, has not been studied. The spread of Kriolu as a popular in-group language in schools happens when there is a suf¿cient number of pupils who speak it regularly to the point where it becomes popular not only among them but also among their non-Cape Verdean peers. This dynamic is reported by an informant in Domingues (2005). Born in Cape Verde, he came to Portugal at the age of six, where he grew up with relatives. While in Portugal, he spoke only Portuguese hence almost giving up his Kriolu. Referring to his secondary school, “A Germânia”, this is what the informant says: Na Germânia encontravam-se, juntamente com brancos, os negros da zona, dos pequenos bairritos e pequenas comunidades de africanos, cabo-verdianos, angolanos, guineenses, moçambicanos. A Germânia foi uma escola espectacular, porque foi nessa altura que comecei a falar crioulo com os meus colegas caboverdianos. Todos queriam aprender a falar crioulo, eu falei também, adorei e veio velhas memórias que estavam mais ou menos esquecidas. (Domingues 2005: 63) In Germania, white pupils mixed with the blacks from the small communities of Africans, Cape Verdeans, Angolans, Guineans, Mozambicans. Germania was a great school because it was at that time that I started to talk Creole with my Cape Verdean colleagues. Everybody wanted to learn to talk Creole, so I spoke it as well. I loved it, and old, nearly forgotten memories came back. (my translation)

So, for native as well as non-native speakers, school and peer groups could turn out to be important social loci for learning and speaking Kabuverdianu. 4.3.

Language preference in general interactions

This pattern, and the popularity of Kriolu as peer group language, turned out to be a decisive factor in the language orientation for speakers. Creole is not necessarily the language of choice among young speakers of all age groups and certainly not for all speakers. The results of the survey, in which the informants were asked the same question about their preferred language, at the beginning and a second time at the end of the questionnaire or interview, revealed patterns that are interesting in various ways: 1. children differed/switched a lot in their answers 2. many teenagers preferred CVC, their answers were quite consistent 3. for young adults (rappers), there was either an equal liking for both languages or a clear preference for CVC

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Especially, children were found to adapt their answers to the interviewer: at the beginning of the interviews (which were conducted in their school using an oral version of the questionnaire), the children took me for one of their teachers, and perhaps because of this, the most frequent answer to the question of which language they preferred was “Portuguese”, as this is what a teacher would like to hear. But as soon as they discovered my interest in Creole, especially when I switched to CVC in the conversation, there was the tendency to opt for CVC as preferred language when the question was asked a second time towards the end of the interview. The results are not too revealing but they show that CVC holds sway in educational settings in Lisbon: of the 25 children, one child switched from Portuguese to Creole, one from “both” to Creole. With three children the switch in opinion worked the other way round, from CVC to Portuguese, and one boy switched from CVC to “both” when they were asked a second time which language they preferred for general interaction. The rest, however, maintained their initial choice – most of them leaning towards Portuguese. Notwithstanding the above switches among the children, over 50% of the 27 teenagers answered consistently that they preferred speaking Creole, while for the 18 rappers the choice was either an equal preference for both languages or more preference for CVC; apparently they showed a more balanced relation to the two languages. Stated language preferences and actual language choice do not usually correspond to each other on a one-to-one basis. From my participant-observation experience, it can be stated that the use of both languages alternates in in-groupconversations. Language choice depends on internal and external factors, and on the speakers’ aim in displaying a Creole identity and showing group af¿liation. The choice of different registers in Portuguese has been observed to correspond to the social role performed by the speaker and the person(s) talked to. Equally, the different varieties of Creole are used by people from different backgrounds and for purposes that correspond to them and the interlocutors involved (see LePage and Tabouret-Keller 1985). Mixed registers are frequently used with bilingual partners. The role of trans-difference in the display of identity through language choice and ethno-linguistic markers has not been focused on in this chapter, even though it, of course, also plays a signi¿cant role. This shows that identities in such contexts are malleable and subject to factors that lie outside language though they manifest or are realized through linguistic acts of identity (LePage and Tabouret-Keller 1985).

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4.4.

Language in the peer group

For many children and youths investigated, CVC is the dominant peer group language. Its use strengthens identi¿cation with the in-group, one’s cultural roots, and it marks a border with ‘outside’ society. Group borders, though, do not necessarily run along ethnic lines but may vary according to situation. The choice and status of CVC as in-group language could be seen in its role in urban popular culture: Cape Verdean music, as well as other African music like Kuduro. CVC is very popular in this domain and there’s a lot of rap music in CVC. I return to this later on. The use of Kriolu within the peer group was con¿rmed by 81% of the 25 children and 84% of the 27 teenagers in A.C.M. To cross-check these ¿gures: out of the same group of informants 71.5% stated they used CVC with their mother while 14% said they used both languages. This shows that CVC thrives more in the peer group than in interactions with mothers – by implication, at home. Most of the rappers interviewed, i.e. those in the age group of 17 to 30 years, indicated they used both languages with their friends. For this group of informants (18 of them), the total preference for CVC is 75% both with mothers and friends. Another phenomenon arising from the strong presence of CVC is its use by non-Cape Verdean peers. In 2003, Pereira (2003) wrote about this trend: There are pupils of other origins, like gypsies or Angolans, who communicate in Creole with the Cape Verdeans, although their Creole naturally corresponds to a learning variety.

The same fact is stated by various informants I surveyed during my ¿eldwork trips. While Pereira talks only of gypsies and Angolans, the following respondents (excerpts 1 and 2) make it known that even Portuguese youths speak CVC Àuently: Excerpt 1 Conheço Portugueses que ratxam Kriolu (..) - aqueles do bairro. (MC T., Interview 2/2007) I know Portuguese who speak Creole Àuently – those of the bairros. (my translation) Excerpt 2 O Kriolu normalmente é: as pessoas crescem numa mini-sociedade, digamos, bairros, zonas ou não sei que. Aqui já temos uma mistura total, temos estrangeiros a falar Kriolu, mas tambem a nova geração de Portugueses, negros e brancos, que nasceram em bairros tambem falam Kriolu. Então o Kriolu já é

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mais espalhado, tambem na música Africana, é muito na moda. O Kriolu é um boucado fashion, até, hoje em dia.” (MC J., Interview 2/2007) With Kriolu it’s usually like this: people grow up in a mini-society, let’s say bairros, zones or whatever. Here we already have a total mixture, we have foreigners speaking Kriolu, but also the young generation of Portuguese, black and white, who were born in the bairros. They speak Kriolu too. Therefore, Kriolu has spread a lot, also in African music, which is very fashionable. You could even say Kriolu is a bit in fashion today. (my translation)

The phenomenon involving Portuguese youths learning Kriolu and/or getting involved in Rap Kriolu could be liked to the concept on crossing in the US involving white adolescents who are attracted black social cultures (see Rampton 1995). An area that adds signi¿cantly to the trend in the excerpts above is hip hop and rap music. 4.5.

Rap Kriolu

In recent years, hip hop has become more and more popular as urban youth culture in Portugal. Since the beginning of the movement in the 1980s there has always been a strong presence of rappers of African, and more speci¿cally Cape Verdean descent, e.g. Boss AC, Niggapoison, and Chullage, who use Portuguese and CVC in their lyrics. Rap in Kriolu became especially popular in the bairros, but has since then known a growing presence in festivals and media. Rap Kriolu could even be heard on national radio broadcast in 2007, when a song by the Lisbon based rappers, Niggapoison, both of Cape Verdean descent, hit the Portuguese charts. The choice of CVC as language for rap lyrics instead of Portuguese reÀects the same patterns analysed above in the sketch of the general linguistic situation: the search for and/or choice of a linguistic identity in given contexts, refurbishing links to the ancestral home, and maintaining social identity ingroups. One problem for linguistic research based on surveys is the fact that speakers’ comments about their own language or linguistic behaviour might be subjectively coloured statements, which often contradict their actual language choices in real life situations. The choices, especially for people from diglossic communities like the Cape Verdeans studied here, might very well be unconscious. Language choice for artistic production like rap, however, is completely conscious, crystallizing language attitudes in an especially conscious way. Language choices in rap music mirror the relations between the singers or MC (as the rap vocalists often call themselves, e.g. MC J., MC T.), their linguistic

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and cultural backgrounds and the audience. The motivation to rap in Kriolu is articulated by the MCs themselves in the following statements (excerpts 3 – 7): Excerpt 3 Eu canto mais em Kriolu. E onde eu sinto-me bem a comunicar tambem. Eu quando falo domino mais a palavra do Caboverdiano do que do Português.(..) Como tou aqui, como no meu bairro só falamos Kriolu, a maior parte dos tempos só falamos Kriolu. Pois, porque portugues não falo assim muito. (MC P., 2/2007) I sing more in Kriolu. That’s where I feel good to communicate too. I express myself better in Kriolu than Portuguese because here in my bairro we speak Kriolu most of the time. I don’t speak Portuguese so much. (my translation)

So, it becomes clear that habitual language use translates into the language preferred for artistic expression due to stronger linguistic competence. In addition, rapping in CVC serves as a link to the cultural roots, and CVC is said to have a good sonority for rapping: Excerpt 4 Nu ta kanta en Kriolu pamódi nu ta valoriza nós raiz e tamben pamódi Kriolu é un di kés lingua mais forte pa rap. (MC L.B.C. 7/2006, Interviewed by Edurne de Juan 2007) We sing in Kriolu because we value our roots and because Kriolu is a very strong language for rap. (my translation) Excerpt 5 Canto rap em crioulo, bem que eu tamben canto em portugues, mas raramente, mais em crioulo porque é, é uma forma de valorizar típo a minha língua, … nasci em Portugal, cresci em Portugal … meus pais sao caboverdianos … eu sou caboverdiano, sou africano. (MC B. 7/2006, Interviewed by Edurne de Juan 2007) I sing in Creole, sometimes in Portuguese as well, but rarely. It’s a way to somehow value my language … I was born and brought up in Portugal but my parents are Cape Verdean. I’m Cape Verdean; I’m African. (my translation)

Even if language pro¿ciency in both Portuguese and CVC could give both languages an equal choice in rap, CVC is often preferred for personal reasons. MC K. in the next excerpt (6) says he chooses what language to sing in and not because, as critics believe, his knowledge of Portuguese is weak.

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Excerpt 6 Alguns pensam que não canto em português por causa do vocabulário ou por que não sei … nããããããããoooo!!! Opção própria!! Se eu não canto em português é porque não quero. (MC K. 7/2006, Interviewed by Edurne de Juan 2007) Some people think that I don’t sing in Portuguese because of vocabulary problems or because of I don’t know what. No! My own choice! If I don’t sing in Portuguese that’s because I don’t want to. (my translation)

Even if the language of choice generally is Portuguese, parts of the lyrics might still be in CVC. The reason for this, MC S. says in excerpt 7, is at the same time artistic creativity and personal choice based on what sounds better, i.e. his feeling when writing the lyrics: Excerpt 7 Canto em Português mas de vez em quando se dar pôr uma frase em kriolu, ponho. Depende de como quero fazer a letra, depende tambem do feeling que tenho quando estou a escrever a letra…As vezes tens o rítmo dentro de tí e depois tu pensas numa coisa, depois dizes, só mesmo em crioulo e tu pensas: ah, aqui seria ¿xe pôr isso mesmo em crioulo. (MC S., 2/2007) I sing in Portuguese but sometimes when there is room for it I put a sentence in Creole. It depends on how I want the lyrics to be. It also depends on the feeling I have while writing… Sometimes you have the rhythm in you and then you think about something and then you say something in Creole straight away and you think, ah, would be nice to simply use this phrase in Creole. (my translation)

If one looks at the life of MC S. we understand clearly what he means by ‘feeling’. He was born in São Tomé; lived in Angola until he was 19; and has been living in Portugal for at least 15 years. He works with Cape Verdean youths in Lisbon and has always been in touch with Cape Verdeans. Thus CVC also is a linguistic choice for him. The audience of Rap Kriolu is not be limited to teenagers of Cape Verdean descent but it also includes Portuguese fans as well. Taking into account the excerpts above, we could say that rappers choose to rap in CVC for the following reasons: 1) it is a common language among youths – the basic audience of rap music, 2) it has gained substantial spread inside and outside the bairros, 3) it is the everyday language of the rappers and hence they feel more at home with it, 4) its sonority ¿ts well with rap patterns, 5) besides the youths in the bairros, other African (and gypsy) communities form part of its audience, and ¿nally 6) it represents the cultural roots of the singers and the link with Africa. Its use is attributed symbolic meaning as an act of black empowerment in the face of racism, exclusion, marginalisation, and, last but not least, it opens trans-national links to the Cape Verdean islands and

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diaspora communities that function as points of cultural reference, communities of reception and networks for distribution. Thus, MC Chullage raps in the song “Kabu Verd kontra racismo” (Cape Verde against racism): Excerpt 8 mi ê warria ness terra e mi ten nhas tropa pa judam de Margem Sul, pa Lisboa, Bóston, Paris, Rotterdam se ê pa vive de joei, mi ta morrê de pê mas ês ka ta kalam pa tud kriol mundo fora, nô konstrui nôs kingdom (MC Chullage, CD Rapensar) I’m a warrior in this country and I have my troops to help me/ from Margem Sul to Lisbon, Boston, Paris, Rotterdam/ If the question is to live down on my knees I’ll rather die upright, but they will not silence me, for all Creoles in the world we have built our kingdom. (my translation)

5.

Language vitality and social reality

The outcomes and consequences of the situation described in this chapter are dynamic and manifold. A brief concluding summary and outlook will be given in the following lines. First, CVC remains vital in the second and third generation of Cape Verdean immigrants in Portugal and is preserved as an important means of cultural expression. Its preservation adds to the cultural and linguistic diversity in Portugal, which still has strong links with the former colonized countries, a cultural and political heritage it cannot deny. In addition, CVC is learned by other groups in the society (for instance, immigrants from other PALOPS and their descendants, Portuguese peers in bairros and schools) and through popular music. Therefore, a reciprocal cultural exchange is taking place. For Cape Verdean descendants, a certain trend towards re-ethni¿cation can be observed, implying a draw-back from society and acculturation according to in-group norms. The fact that CVC has become stigmatised as language of the bairros, racial discrimination is acted out on the level of language and the historically low prestige of Creole languages which is still alive in post(colonial) complexes makes the status of CVC in Portugal a very ambiguous one. In schools, the use of Creole is often seen by teachers as a subversive act and judged to be subtractive for competence in Portuguese. This has begun to change, given that today there is teacher training in CVC and some pilot projects on bilingual schooling or education. As opposed to the general notion that suburban speakers lack adequate competence in Portuguese and CVC, a state classi¿ed as semilingu-

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ism (for a critique of this see Pereira 2003), the speakers engaged in cultural production in this study are perfectly Àuent bilinguals. In the speech production, a number of characteristic language contact phenomena typical of migrant situations can be observed. There is as a strong loan word practice and a high frequency of code-switching. What is special for a Creole in contact with its lexi¿er language is the fact that the continuous language contact could eventually make it dif¿cult to demarcate the border between the two closely related languages, and frequent interferences can be observed, as for example, the variation and interferences in article systems (see Albino 1994, Märzhäuser 2006). Already, Weinreich (1953: 98) pointed out the inÀuence of external factors on interferences: The absence of socio-cultural divisions to reinforce the difference in mother tongues is not only a factor facilitating language shifts but probably also deters the development of resistance to linguistic interference, and is thus conducive to interlingual inÀuence.

One consequence of this process is that mixed or hybrid forms continue to exist in the community, out of which eventually new varieties might stabilize. In the case of Lisbon suburban Creole, the existence of new mixed urban codes sometimes called Crioulo do Guetto (Ghetto Creole) by the speakers themselves, is stated in linguistic literature: In the Creole spoken by these children, often expressions from original, deep Creole, and lexical gaps are ¿lled by Portuguese expressions or a luso-afro-anglo-american slang. (Pereira 2003)

This code is also de¿ned by the speakers themselves. For MC C., Ghetto Creole is a mixture of Portuguese and African immigrants’ native languages. Interestingly, the older generation, A.T. points out in excerpt 10 below, does not understand the Ghetto Creole used by youths, since it is too urbanized and is different from bairro to bairro. So, rather than converging, CVC and its lexi¿er are moving apart under the impact of different forces: youth preferences, educational pressure, generational gaps, etc. It is almost already a (excerpt 9). Excerpt 9 slang kriado entre a lingua tuga e os dialektos dos palop’s. (MC Chullage in “Pretugal”, CD Rapensar) slang created using the Portuguese language and the dialects of the Palops. (my translation)

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Excerpt 10 O crioulo que os jovens falam aqui em portugal ja sofreu muitas alterações: os nossos cotas não entendem o crioulo que os jovens falam por aqui. Aqui é um crioulo urbanizado, é o criolo do ghetto, que de bairro para bairro difere em determinadas expressões (A.T., 9/ 2006, Rap-Project ‘Putos qui a ta cria’) The Creole our youths speak here in Portugal has already been altered a lot. Our old generation doesn’t understand it, it’s an urbanized Creole, a ghetto Creole, which differs in its expressions from bairro to bairro. (my translation)

Of course, there is no linguistic description of these substandard, fairly unstable varieties yet. Interesting conclusions can be drawn, though, from the following quote by the Portuguese anthropologist Martins (1997: 212), who writes about the code in two Luso-African teenage groups: A mistura dos vocábulos angolanos com os empréstimos sociolinguísticos do ingles e estrangeirismos (de igual inspiração) é veri¿cável em situações espontâneas, de diálogo corrente, quer nos jovens da Quinta Grande-no grupo estudado, a maioria é angolana- quer nos jovens do Alto de Santa Catarina. A diferença é que os vocábulos são utilizados entre os jovens da Quinta Grande a partir de uma base grammatical da lingual portuguesa, enquanto os jovens caboverdeanos de Santa Catarina reproduzem estes vocábulos de inspiração inglesa e do calão angolano, mas a partir de uma base grammatical crioulo. The mixture of Angolan vocabulary with sociolinguistic loans from English and estrangeirismos (of the same inspiration) can be attested for in situations of spontaneous speech, both for the youth from Quinta Grande, in their majority of Angolan descent as well as in Alto de Santa Catarina. The difference is that these words are used on a Portuguese grammatical base by the speakers from Quinta Grande, while the young Cape Verdeans from Santa Catarina reproduce these words of English origin on a Creole grammatical base. (my translation)

The frequent use of African American English-derived rap-Anglicisms can be observed in the lyrics in both Portuguese and CVC. Some of these lexical items or expressions are current in colloquial speech among the group investigated. From the ¿eld trips I made there, there is evidence that the Creole used by the speakers investigated for this research contained ad-hoc loan-words from Portuguese. Their speech leans heavily towards the suburban Portuguese slang or calão, which in itself contains an extensive vocabulary loaned from Luandes, the colloquial Portuguese of Angola’s capital, Luanda. Again, there are inÀuences from the Creoles spoken on São Tomé and Guinea-Bissau. On top of this, there is a high number of loanwords from Afro-American English Vernacular, especially Anglicisms drawn from rap lyrics. There exists also a number of

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locally coined neologisms. Of course, these mixed codes are mainly in-group phenomena of the suburban youth. Deriving from their use of Creole varieties, CVC could be seen as a form of resistance vernacular within the Portuguese society in which these immigrants live, as Martins (1997: 200) writes: Os jovens acabam por usar o crioulo como forma de resistência cultural e linguística. The teenagers use Creole as a form of cultural and linguistic resistance. (my translation)

While this could imply resistance, we cannot say it is always resistance. Whether the choice of speaking CVC is due to insuf¿cient or missing competence in Portuguese, or due to CVC’s social importance in suburban Lisbon; whether it is an act of cultural and political resistance or a conscious choice of perfectly bilingual speakers, are questions that could be discussed at length for every single speaker or every bairro or every ethnic or national immigrant group. Language choices and preferences will not only vary according to communicative partners, domains and places but can also change signi¿cantly during an individual’s lifetime.

References Albino, Cristina 1994 Para o estudo do crioulo falafo pela comunidade Cabo-Verdiana radicada em Portugal: Variação e mudança no sistema de artigos. Tese de doutorado, Universidade de Lisboa. Anchimbe, Eric A. 2007 Linguabridity: Rede¿ning linguistic identities among children in urban areas. In: Anchimbe, Eric A. (ed.), Linguistic Identity in Postcolonial Multilingual Spaces. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. 66 – 86. Anchimbe, Eric A. This volume Introduction: Postcolonial linguistic voices: Stitching together identity choices and their representations. Domingues, Nuno 2005 Jovens Negros em Lisboa: Biogra¿a(s) de uma Festa Hip Hop, Tese de Licenciatura, Universidade Nova de Lisboa. Evora-Sagna, Margarida, Vanessa Gray and Michael Minges 2002 The Internet in a Lusophone LCD: Cape Verde Case Study. www.itu.int/ itudoc/gs/promo/bdt/cast_int/82743.html (16.12.2002)

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Juan, Edurne de 2007 Nu ta valoriza nos raiz: el Rap Krioulo y la Construcción Identitaria de los Jóvenes en la Cova da Moura, Lisboa. Paper presented at the First International Conference of Young Urban Researchers, Lisbon. Krefeld, Thomas 2004 Einführung in die Migrationslinguistik. Tübingen: Gunter Narr Verlag. Lang, Jürgen et al. (eds.) 2006 Cabo Verde, origins da sua sociedade e do seu crioulo. Tübingen: Gunter Narr Verlag. LePage, Robert B. and Andrée Tabouret-Keller 1985 Acts of Identity: Creole-based Approaches to Language and Ethnicity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Märzhäuser, Christina 2006 Entre kriolu e Português. A situação de migrantes Caboverdianos em Grande Lisboa – um estudo de caso em Alta Cova da Moura. In: Krefeld, Thomas (ed.), Modellando lo spazio in prospettiva linguistica. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. 173 – 194. Märzhäuser, Christina 2011 Portugiesich und Kabuverdianu in Kontakt. Muster des Code-switching und lexikalische Innovationen in Raptexten aus Lissabon. FFM/Berlin: Peter Lang Verlag. Martins, Humberto Miguel 1997 Ami Cunhá Cumpadri Pitécu – Uma Etnogra¿a da Linguagem e da Cultura Juvenil Luso-Africana em Dois Contextos Suburbanos de Lisboa. Tese de Mestrado,Universidade de Lisboa. Pereira, Dulce 2003 Pa nu skrebe na skola. www.ese-jdeus.edu.pt/projectos. Perl, Matthias et al. (eds.) 1994 Portugiesisch und Crioulo in Afrika: Geschichte-Grammatik-LexikSprachentwicklung. Bochum: Brockmeyer. Rampton, Ben 1995 Crossing: Language and Ethnicity among Adolescents. London: Longman. Raposo, Otávio 2003 Sociabilidades Juvenis em Contexto Urbano – Um olhar sobre os jovens do bairro Alto da Cova da Moura. Tese de Licenciatura. Universidade Nova de Lisboa. Sobotta, Elissa 2006 Französisch und Kreolisch in Guadeloupe. In: König, Torsten, Christoph Oliver Mayer, Laura Ramírez Sáinz, and Nadine Wetzel (eds.), RandBetrachtungen: Peripherien, Minoritäten, Grenzziehungen. Bonn: Romanistischer Verlag. 99 – 114.

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Weinreich, Uriel 1953 Languages in Contact: Findings and Problems. New York: Linguistic Circle of New York.

Newspapers Africa Hoje, N° 192, August 2004. Cova da Moura: A magia de reviver África, p. 92 – 93. Newspaper Clipping, 11 – 6 – 86. Moinho de Juventude. Crioulo - a lingua estrangeira mais falada em Portugal.

Internet links www.myspace.com/chullage www.myspace.com/kromodighettokovam www.myspace.com/souljahkovam www.palcoprincipal.com/2780oeiras www.putosquiatacria.pt.vu www.myspace.com/niggapoison.rap www.bossac.com www.creoleinstitute.org www.sef.pt (Serviço de estrangeiros e fronteiras Portugal, dados 2006) www.ic.cv (Instituto das Comunidades) www.embcv.pt (Cape Verdean Embassy Lisbon)

CDs Boss AC “Mandachuva” (1998) Boss AC “Rimar contra a maré” (2002) Boss AC “Rítmo, amor e palavras” (2005) Chullage “Rapresálias” (2001) Chullage “Rapensar” (2004) Niggapoison “Podia ser mí” (2001) Niggapoison “Resistentes” (2006) Putos qui a ta cria (2006) SAMP “Other Life” (2006) Souljah “Pa nha rapazes” (2007) SS “Escuta só” (2004) Tony MC Dread “100 papas na lingua” (2004)

Chapter 15 Code-switching among Igbo-Nigerian immigrants in Padua (Italy) Francesco Goglia

1.

Introduction

This chapter aims to analyse instances of code-switching among a multilingual African community in the immigration context, namely the Igbo-Nigerian community resident in Padua (Italy). The Igbo-Nigerians in Padua are one of the largest immigrant communities in the Veneto region in Italy and the community’s linguistic repertoire comprises Igbo, English, Nigerian Pidgin English (henceforth NPE), Italian and the Veneto dialect.1 In African postcolonial societies, multilingualism is the norm. Speakers in these societies can communicate on a daily basis using a number of languages depending on who they speak to, the context, their preference, their level of education, the identity they want to express, etc. Auer (1984, 1995) has directed the study of code-switching towards the actual interaction processes. Under the conversational analysis approach, the occurrence of a particular switched item is interpreted with reference to a particular conversational interaction. Every utterance or turn could change in the communicative situation and each code-switching instance must be interpreted 1. The term ‘dialect’ is not used in this context to refer to a ‘variety of the standard language’, as it usually is the case when people refer to ‘English dialects’, varieties of the standard language that are spoken around the UK. Italian ‘dialects’ are not varieties of Italian, but separate idioms, sister languages in fact, just like French and Spanish, that developed from Latin alongside of each other. The standard language, Italian itself, is nothing more than one of these varieties, chosen out of the many to represent the national language: it emerged from the language spoken in Tuscany, in the city of Florence more precisely, and was modelled on the written form used in the 12th century. Although dialects are often thought of as lacking proper grammar because of their lower prestige, they all have their own syntactic and phonological systems which display features and traits that differentiate them from one another and also allow sub-categorising them into different groups.

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in relation to the other conversational turns. This approach offers a way to account for variation in code-switching even in the speech of the same speaker and offers a micro-level analysis for individual instances of code-switching. According to Auer (1995: 116), in order to understand a code-switching instance, attention must be paid to the conversational turn immediately preceding it, to which code-alternation may respond in various ways and [to] the following utterance by [the] next participant[, which] reÀects his or her interpretation of that preceding utterance.

Following Auer, I pay particular attention to the interaction and the speakers’ individual choice of code-switching. However, recent studies have shown that it is not always possible to associate code-switching with a particular function in the conversation, but some instances of code-switching are better analysed as part of an established way of speaking among multilingual speakers in a particular society. This second kind of code-switching can be such a natural linguistic behaviour that speakers themselves fail to notice when they produce it (Amuda 1986, Swigart 1992, Myers-Scotton 1993, Meeuwis and Blommaert 1998, Oyetade 2001, Igboanusi 2001). In this chapter, I will call the ¿rst kind of code-switching, meaningful code-switching, while the second kind of codeswitching will be referred to as unmarked code-switching. Multilingual speakers in postcolonial societies are used to mixing one or more languages when they speak and it is not always possible or useful to analyse switched items as belonging to one language or another, rather than to a single hybrid code (for a similar view see also Swigart 1992 as well as Meeuwis and Blommaert 1998). Some informants in this study say they speak Igbo with members of their community although they use a lot of code-switching from English. See, for example, informant H’s statement in example 1 (turn 4) below: Example 1 1

Int:

2

H:

3

Int:

4

H:

Con i tuoi amici nigeriani che lingua parli? (‘With your Nigerian friends which language do you speak?’) Parliamo igbo. (‘We speak Igbo’) Non parlate in inglese? (‘Do you speak English?’) No qualche volta esce qualcosa in inglese, però non è… parliamo solo igbo (H-66) (‘No, sometimes something comes out in English, but it is not…we only speak Igbo’)

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The immigration context represents an ideal locus for the study of codeswitching. This is speci¿cally because immigrant speakers add the language(s) of the host country to their already multilingual linguistic repertoire. According to different factors, immigrants may either abandon their languages in favour of the language(s) of the host country or maintain them in their daily life in speci¿c contexts. Similarly, code-switching behaviour may be retained or new patterns could be created. Newly established immigrant communities can reveal interesting insights into the ways speakers reshape their linguistic repertoire and their patterns of code-switching. In recent years, some interesting studies have focused on code-switching in recently established immigration communities in Europe, including Moroccan Arabic-Dutch code-switching among Moroccan immigrants in Holland (Nortier 1990), Twi-English-Italian code-switching among Ghanaian immigrants in Italy (Guerini 2006), TurkishDutch code-switching among Turkish immigrants in the Netherlands (Backus 1996), English-Chinese code-switching among Chinese immigrants in the UK (Li 1994). It is interesting to note that in immigrant communities of post-colonial origin, the speakers sometimes share the language of the former colonizer, as for example Zairians in Belgium (Meeuwis 1997), Algerians and Moroccan in France (Giacomi, Stoffel and Véronique 2000) or Caribbeans in England (Sebba and Wootton 1998), but this cannot be the case for the majority of immigrant communities in Italy because of Italy’s short colonial past. Most Igbo-Nigerian immigrants have neither previous links with Italy nor any substantial knowledge of the Italian language when they move to the country. We will see how, in the immigrantion context, patterns of Igbo-English code-switching already existing in the speech of the community merge with code-switching involving Italian and the Veneto dialect. I will present patterns of code-switching in both Igbo-English conversations among Igbo-Nigerians and Italian conversations between Igbo-Nigerians and the Italian interviewer. The chapter is structured as follows. Section 2 will present the sociolinguistic situation in Nigeria, which is necessary to assess language choice and codeswitching in the immigration context. In section 3, I will provide an outline of the Igbo community in Padua. In section 4, I will present the data on which the analysis is based. In section 5, I will discuss instances of code-switching in conversations both among members of the Igbo immigrant community in Padua and in the Italian speech between Igbo immigrants and an Italian interviewer. The chapter closes with a summary of the ¿ndings.

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2.

The sociolinguistic situation in Nigeria

In Nigeria, there are more than 400 indigenous or native languages. For historical reasons there are a few linguae francae that are more widespread and have of¿cial language status: English, the exogenous language, holds a national of¿cial status and is the language of trade, administration, education and the media.Yoruba in the south west, Igbo in the south east, and Hausa in the north, have since 1979 enjoyed a co-of¿cial status together with English (Babajide 2001, Adegbija 2004). In a country with so many ethnic groups and languages, the adoption of English for the purposes of administration and education represents a neutral choice (Bamgbose 1995, Ézè 1997, Adegbija 2004). Results of surveys conducted by Babajide (2001) and Adegbija (2004) show that more than 70% of Nigerians have positive attitudes towards the use of English as a medium of education and as a unifying force in multilingual Nigeria. Early education in public schools is in local languages, while secondary and higher education is in English.2 All Nigerians who have received formal education after primary school are bilingual in English and an indigenous language, or even multilingual if they speak NPE and/or other indigenous languages (depending on family background and the level of contact with other ethnic groups). Those without formal education tend to be monolingual in an indigenous language or bilingual in an indigenous language and NPE. Non-educated Nigerians residing in urban centres have access only to street or non-educated English, and NPE. A continuum from educated English through non-educated English to NPE (from acrolect to basilect) serves as a community link language for all classes (Bokamba 1991, Faraclas 1996). In recent years, the development of NPE has been particularly evident in the big cities and ports in the south of Nigeria, where it functions as a lingua franca among people belonging to different ethnic groups. The use of NPE is strictly linked to the urbanization process (Bamiro 1991), but not necessarily to illiteracy. It is widely used by traders and members of the police force and the army, and is increasingly popular among young people, writers, politicians and musicians. Generally, Nigerians disapprove of the use of NPE; all informants in this study, for example, denied any knowledge of NPE, saying that its use 2. The National Policy on Education 1977 states that: ‘in states where there is a predominantly written language, that language should be the medium of instruction for the ¿rst three years of primary education while English is taught as a subject; after this period English should be the language of instruction and the Nigerian language taught as a subject’.

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might prevent people from using English properly. However, NPE is actively used among members of the community and, in some contexts, its use can also function as an act of identity when speakers need to stress their ‘Nigerianness’, as opposed to their ethnic group identity. The Igbo are one of the most populous indigenous language speaking communities of southern Nigeria. Igbo is the of¿cial language of the south east, spoken in ¿ve eastern states of Nigeria, namely Abia, Anambra, Ebonyi, Enugu and Imo. The area is usually referred as Alaigbo (Igboland).3 Igbo is also spoken as a second language and is used as a lingua franca west of the river Niger and in the Cross River Basin. The estimated number of speakers is around 20 million, including internal migrants to the cities of Lagos, Ibadan, Kano, and Kaduna (Ugochukwu 2004). A large amount of literature exists in Igbo. The Igbo language is offered as a degree programme at the University of Nsukka and other Nigerian universities. Nowadays, the Igbo diaspora also produces publications and websites which deal with Igbo culture and language and which address both Igbo migrants abroad and non-Igbo people. Contact due to immigration has also created interest in Nigerian and more speci¿cally Igbo culture and language among other people. At the University of Padua, for instance, there is a Masters Degree course on cultural mediation, where Igbo is taught among other major community languages. Multilingualism in Nigeria is the norm: some Igbo speak other indigenous languages for various reasons: the father or mother belongs to a different ethnic group; the speaker has spent some time in another state of the Federation for study or work reasons, etc. Some informants of this study had lived in other parts of Nigeria before coming to Europe. Code-switching is very common and represents the norm rather than the exception. As Amuda (1986) notes in his study on Yoruba-English code-switching in Nigeria, code-switching is common between an indigenous language and English, or between two indigenous languages where at least one is a lingua franca in the country. This language mixing situation is “very common among educated and even not so-educated Nigerians” (Onuigbo 1993: 367). The Igbo refer to the mixture of English and Igbo as Engligbo (Onuigbo 1993). Amuda (1986) reports a similar development of English-Yoruba mixing, which the Yoruba call amulumala or adalu ade: ‘verbal salad’. The high frequency of English code-switching in Igbo discourse can be accounted for by the high prestige of the English language in Nigeria and by the fact that Nigerians who are highly educated have used English as an instruc3. Another term, Biafra, retains strong political connotations. It was chosen by the secessionist movement in the late sixties during the war for independence fought by the Igbo.

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tional medium, so they are more pro¿cient in this language with regard to many topics (Onuigbo 1993). Con¿rmation of this comes from Ézè (1997), who reports the result of a study conducted by Ahukanna (1990) on the acceptance of Igbo-English mixture among Igbo speakers. According to this study, Igbo speakers indulge in Igbo-English mixture for four reasons: 1) Igbo is not rich enough in vocabulary, 2) Igbo native speakers like to display their knowledge of English, 3) English has become very habitual to most Igbo native speakers, and 4) English words are often shorter and easier to use. We will need to take into account this sociolinguistic situation in order to understand the sociolinguistic situation in the immigrant context.

3.

The Igbo community in Padua

The Igbo community in the Veneto region is part of a wider Igbo Diaspora in North America, the rest of Europe and Australia. The pioneers came very early in the 1970s as students. At that time the Nigerian government itself offered grants to students who wished to study in Europe. The economic crisis that followed the coup d’état in 1983 meant that students who were abroad could no longer be supported by their government. Many of them had to abandon their studies, but instead of returning to Nigeria, decided to stay in Italy and look for work in the regions where opportunities were available. The Igbo who abandoned their studies formed the core of the Igbo migrant population in Veneto and later became a magnet which would attract new people, this time only those looking for work. A large number of Nigerians intended to stay only temporarily but many of them eventually decided to remain permanently and through the process of family formation a great number of Igbo-Nigerians are settling down. As the last report on immigration in the region shows, the number of families is growing (Fincati 2005). Many Nigerian men have married or have been able to bring their wives from Nigeria to join them. Many families have settled and have children who were born in Italy. These families now have children who constitute the ¿rst generation born in Italy. If we take a closer look at the situation in Padua, statistics show that Nigerians are the fourth largest foreign group, after Romanians, Moroccans and Albanians (Fincati 2005). Padua has the highest number of Nigerians in the region and they form very well organised community. The core of the community is the so-called African Street, an area behind the railway station where there are some African shops, all run by Nigerians. These places are very popular among the members of the Nigerian immigrant community; they are good gathering

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points where Nigerians can meet or buy their own food, drinks and newspapers. Padua also has a high number of children registered with the Health Service and of businesses run by Nigerians (Fincati 2005). These are all indicators of a stabilizing community. Somehow, Padua has become the centre of the Nigerian community in the region.

4.

Data collection and informants

The data on which this chapter is based belong to two different corpora. The ¿rst corpus consists of tape-recorded interviews which were conducted in Italian. The aim of the data collection was to analyse the communicative strategies in the Italian spoken by Igbo-Nigerians (Goglia 2006). I was the interviewer, the tape-recorder was always overt and anonymity was guaranteed to the speakers. In the excerpts used here, speakers’ turns are referred to with capital letters. The interviews were conducted in Italian in the informant’s home or in a suitable place for conversation and recording. Each interview lasted between 40 and 60 minutes. A total of 18 informants, all belonging to the Igbo community, were interviewed. Access to the community was granted through my Nigerian friends, who introduced me to other informants. Topics of conversation included life in Italy, daily routines, Nigerian culture (music, literature, usages and customs), differences between Nigerian and Italian culture, issues related to Padua, etc. The second set of data consists of a corpus of conversations in Igbo, NPE, English, Italian and Veneto dialect which was collected between August 2008 and January 2009 in Padua thanks to a British Academy Small Research Grant (SG-50672). A research assistant, who is also a member of the Igbo community, recorded and transcribed this data.4 A total of 10 conversations with ten informants were collected. All informants belong to the Igbo community in Padua. The conversations last from 20 to 30 minutes each. The tape-recorder was always overt and anonymity was guaranteed to the speakers; the informants were contacted in key places such as African shops, hairdresser’s and churches. Topics of conversations included the situation of immigrants in Italy, current events in the news, life in Italy, etc. The new data provide a more complete account of multilingualism, code-switching and language maintenance among the IgboNigerian community in the immigration context. The informal and spontaneous 4. I am deeply grateful to Mr Okechukwu Anyadiegwu for collecting and transcribing the data and for all our interesting discussions on the Igbo language, Nigeria, and immigration.

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nature of these conversations enabled the speakers to use more freely the wide range of languages at their disposal. Both sets of data also involved a certain degree of participant observation by me and the research assistant.

5.

Patterns of code-switching in the speech of Igbo-Nigerians in Italy

In the following sections, I will present patterns of code switching in two different kinds of communicative situations involving both different kinds of speakers and languages. The ¿rst is code-switching in conversations among IgboNigerians and the research assistant in Igbo, English, NPE, Italian and Veneto dialect. The second involves conversations in Italian between Igbo-Nigerians and an Italian interviewer. I will show how in the ¿rst communicative situation, the speakers may reproduce patterns of code-switching already taking place in conversations among Igbo-Nigerians: switching codes might be both meaningful or an unmarked way of speaking. What is new in the immigration context is that the new codes (Italian and the local Veneto dialect) can be used in the conversation in the same way as the other languages: they can appear as meaningful code-switching or become part of an unmarked switched code. The second context is that involving conversations in Italian between members of the Igbo community and an Italian interviewer. I will show how we can again distinguish two patterns of code-switching: there is the meaningful code-swtching which represents a communicative strategy at the disposal of the speakers while communicating in an interlingual variety of Italian, but some occurrences of English code-switching in the Italian conversation also reveal an unmarked use of code-switching which replicates patterns of speaking among Igbo-Nigerians. 5.1.

Code-switching in conversations among Igbo-Nigerians

Igbo-Nigerians in the immigration context generally reproduce the Igbo-English switched speech commonly used in Nigeria. Thus, code-switching can be either part of an unmarked, natural way of speaking or it can be invoked for a given purpose in the conversation, what I call meaningful code-switching. However, in the immigration context, the Igbo can also employ Italian and the Veneto dialect in their conversation. The following examples will show that Italian and the Veneto dialect code-switching instances may be used in the conversation in the same way as the other languages: they may be purposive, hence have a communicative function in the conversation, but can also become

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part of a newly created unmarked switched code. In the following examples, italics are used for English, bold print for Igbo, plain typeface for Italian, and underlining for NPE. Example 2 1

B:

2 3

A: B:

Na comune ebe m bi, enwe ndӏ, that is every ¿ve years, changie government, ӑbөlө ndӏ leghista then fa ebido problem… ebido problem, a little problem, so, mө nwa we jee one day jekwө the mayor m sӏ ya look io sono cittadino, ho giurato fedeltà, ho la fedeltà a questo paese (…) basta. I ¿nished everything (…) so from then up to this day they respect me... (‘In the local government where I live, there are people, that is every ¿ve years, when the government is changed, if it is the Lega Nord then they start a problem start a problem, a little problem. So, I myself then went one day went up to the mayor and said to him look I am a citizen, I swore allegiance, I am loyal to this country (…) that’s all. I ¿nished everything (…) so from then up to this day they respect me’) Because you respect yourself. They respect me very well. They’re doing everything…How many times ka fa sӏ m ah, vuoi fare l’assessore? Io non mi interessa perché? Perché voi siete razzisti me, I no dey hide am oo eh, che cosa abbiamo fatto? Cominciare dagli extraco- …eh…extracomunitari, digli che parte d’Europa si dice così? Perché vuoi che siamo discriminati prima…me, I no dey good ooh! (‘They respect me very well. They’re doing everything…How many times have they said to me would you like to be a town councillor? “I am not interested. Why? Because you are racist, I don’t hide it, what have we done? Let’s start from word non European citizen, tell them in which part of Europe do they say like this? Because you discriminate against us at the beginning, I, I am not good ooh!’)

Example 2 involves Igbo-English-NPE-Italian code-switching between two Igbo men. Speaker A is the research assistant while speaker B arrived in Italy 30 years ago and is almost ¿fty. He studied in Italy, and works for a ¿nancial group presently. The conversation took place in a shop which sells food and general goods imported from African countries. The speakers are talking about brutality and intimidation of immigrants by the Italian law enforcement agents. The example illustrates how speaker B makes use of the four languages in his linguistic repertoire in the same conversation. He speaks in an Igbo-English switched code and the majority of switches have no conversational function. There are no long pauses between the switches; the informant is simply speaking in a switched code, as it often happens in everyday conversations among

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Nigerians. The conversation also shows the use of Italian in the new context. See the Italian insertion comune ‘city council’ and leghista ‘member of the Lega Nord party’, an adjective used as a noun. The latter example reminds us that the Italian used by the Igbo is an interlingual variety. Both these switches represent the enrichment of an already switched speech with lexical items or expressions particulalrly associated with the Italian context. The following longer switched sentences in Italian function as quotations. It is very interesting to note that the quotation in Italian, i.e. “io sono cittadino, ho giurato fedeltà, ho la fedeltà a questo paese (…) basta” (1B, above) is introduced by the English word look, which is used elsewhere by the same speaker to introduce a quotation in English. In example 2, speaker B uses Italian to report the reasons why he has not accepted to work as councillor. Here the use of NPE, a we-code par excellence, in the middle of the Italian quotation reveals an intention to address a more restricted Nigerian audience. The use of NPE elsewhere in the corpus is not purposive, but appears simply to be part of the switched way of speaking of Igbo-Nigerians. Contact between Igbo and English is also represented by the switched English verb change integrated into the Igbo verbal morphology (1B). In the third example, speaker O is a 38 year old Igbo man working in an African shop. He has lived in Italy for the past twenty years and is Àuent in Igbo, English, Italian, Neapolitan dialect and NPE. The topic of the conversation, which takes place at an African shop, is Italian politics and the speaker switches code between Igbo and English. However, he is particularly Àuent in Italian. Example 3 1

A:

2

O:

3

A:

4

O:

Ka ayӏ kpakene political situation obodo a. (‘Let’s dicuss the political situation of this country’) The only thing abөdebe bө na mөnwa chӑӑ ӏghӑta the particular area aya-eje inside it. (‘the only thing is that I will like to understand the particular area we will discuss’) Like now, Berlusconi is the prime minister na Italy. (‘For example, now Berlusconi is the prime minister in Italy’) He is the prime minister… intanto persona being the prime minister, Italians, more especially, they are the same kind of people that can lament on everything. You cannot do any Italian good. You cannot intend to do an Italian good {interruption} (‘He is the prime minister…at the moment the person who is the prime minister, Italians, in particular, they are the same people who

Code-switching among Igbo-Nigerian immigrants in Padua (Italy)

5

O:

6

A:

7

O:

8

A:

9

O:

333

complain about everything. Nothing can please the Italians. You cannot please an Italian’) Ӑbөghӏ ma, anaghӏ m ekwu okwu gbasara politics Italo. Mөnwa aha ekwunwu ӑnө... (‘If not for, I don’t discuss issues concerning Italian politics. I ¿nd it dif¿cult to discuss’) ӎ sӏ na Italians, na enwero ife ӏ ga eme fa. (‘You said that Italians, there is nothing you can do for them’) Onweghӏ ife ӏga eme Italians ka ha hapu ӏ lamenti, Ӑ wөrө ndӏ veneto ha sӏ eeh sono lamentone, i veneziani sono lamentoni, so, in a way anything ӑbөna ӏ na emere ha, ӑbөrө na ӏchӑlө iplease ha, in modo che accontentarlo, ti sbaglio lo stesso. (‘There is nothing you can do to Italians that they will not lament, if they are Venetians, they say eeh they are whiners, Venetians are whiners, so, in a way anything at all you are doing for them, if you want to please them, so if you please them, you make a mistake anyway.’) You make a mistake because you cannot make them... you cannot satisfy any of them? (‘You make a mistake because you cannot please any of them?’) You can not satisfy any of them, If magari ӏ si this is what they want… (‘You can not please any of them, if maybe you say this is what they want’)

There are two very interesting Italian insertions intanto ‘in the meantime’ (turn 4) and magari ‘maybe’ (turn 9), which speaker O uses as if they were part of the switched code. Two more common connectives in the Italian of my informants are the adversative conjunction ma, i.e. ‘but’, also used as general subordinate clause introducer and the adverbial particle anche, i.e. ‘also’, which is often used as a noun phrase coordination conjunction (for an in depth discussion on connectives in the Italian of my informants see Goglia 2006). Switched connectives are very common in the Igbo-English switched code. Even Igbo monolingual speakers might sometimes use English connectives, not because they are borrowed into the Igbo language, but because they are part of a set of English content and functional words also available to non-bilingual speakers. The use of Italian connectives in the switched code would be a replica of a switching behaviour in the Igbo-English switched code (Goglia 2006). From sequence 7, speaker O employs Igbo, English and Italian to say that Italians are dif¿cult people to please. By repeating this in the three languages the speaker emphasizes his point.

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Example 4 1

A:

2

J:

Ma na enoticim na akwa ӏ na eyi na adӏ iche? (‘but I noticed that your dresses are always special’) That is what I am telling you. It has nothing to do with expensiveness. Like, if you go to Nigeria, you can go to Ok, ͔kr͓ka, ͔kr͓ka, [secondhand clothes shop] a na akpo ya Ӑkrӏka. (‘it’s called’), we call it Ok, you can go to Ok and buy things and when you come back you wash it, iron it and put it on, anybody, anybody fөlө gӏ na ya sef, (‘who see you in them’), you will look good better than ndӏ jee goo (‘those who went and bought’) ready made yiri (‘to wear’), you understand? So, dressing good as far as I am concerned has nothing to do with expensiveness…

In example 4, speaker J is a 30 years old Igbo woman who speaks Yoruba, Igbo, English and NPE, but who is not Àuent in Italian, having been in Italy for less than a year. The interview took place in the interviewer’s Àat and the topic of conversation was fashion. The speaker’s preferred code is English throughout the conversation and there is very little Igbo code-switching compared to the previous speakers. However, the excerpt shows three occurrences of Igbo alternational code-switching. These selected extracts show that in the immigration context, the Igbo speak in a switched code which might also involve the languages of the host country. The amount of switching from each language and the number of languages involved are speaker-dependent. 5.2.

Code-switching in conversations in Italian

The Igbo-Nigerians interviewed for this chapter had no previous knowledge of Italian at the time they moved to Italy. They did not acquire Italian through formal education, but generally from friends, co-workers, etc. Their interlingual variety of Italian is lacking in many morphological features of the Italian language and shows some interesting reanalyzed Italian structures more or less inÀuenced by their previously acquired languages (Goglia 2004, 2006). For my informants the main purpose of Italian is basic and effective communication with Italians (Goglia 2006). In this section, I want to illustrate some patterns of code-switching in their Italian discourse. My main concern is to show that even in this communicative situation, in which the Italian is the set language, speakers make use of code-switching although mainly English code-switching. It is very interesting to note that again there are two patterns of code-switching: a purposive, meaningful code-switching, which represents an optional communicative strategy at the disposal of the speakers as they communicate in an

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interlingual variety of Italian, and a more Àuid and unmarked code-switching which replicates patterns of an already available switched way of speaking among Igbo-Nigerians. Nearly all insertions in my corpus of conversations in Italian are from English. According to Goglia (2006), there are at least six factors which might explain the prominent use of English insertions in Italian discourse by the respondents. First, the diglossic relation between English and Igbo, which makes English the language of communication outside the ethnic group hence more appropriate to be code-switched while speaking with Italians. Second, codeswitching among Igbo-English bilinguals is very common, although it is bidirectional. When an Igbo needs to communicate with another Igbo who speaks a different Igbo dialect (where even vocabulary may vary) the use of English can overcome the problem.5 A third factor which explains the prominence of English code-switching is the informants’ metalinguistic judgements on the languages of their expanded linguistic repertoire in the host country. The fact that they de¿ne Igbo as dialetto ‘dialect’ and English as lingua ‘language’6 con¿rms the speakers’ awareness that Igbo is a local in-group language, while English is the language with high status (Goglia 2006). When asked which languages he speaks, informant F (example 5) refers to Igbo as a dialect: Example 5 1

Int:

2

F:

Hai imparato l’italiano parlando con la gente? (“Have you learnt Italian talking with people?”) Io parlato italiano come gente se trovi qualcuno strada così…ma io parlo bastanza inglese, poi mia dialetto di igbo…(F-17). (“I have spoken Italian with people if I meet someone in the street like this…but I speak quite good English, then my dialect Igbo”)

Note that NPE is often referred to as inglese stracciato ‘broken English’, hence occupying the lowest status in their linguistic repertoire. This makes it a less suitable candidate for code-switching (Goglia 2006). A fourth factor is again related to the role of English in the repertoire of the informants. While they are all bilingual in Igbo and English, English has been the medium of their education, the language they are often more pro¿cient in, when it comes to education related topics, since they will not have studied Igbo beyond primary 5. This is less likely to be true when the two Igbo speak the same dialect. Akere (1981: 297, cit. in Amuda 1986: 285) claims that when Yoruba/English bilinguals communicate in their local dialects, there are no English switches. 6. Gnerre (1990), in his study on Cape Verdean immigrants in Rome, noted a similar attitude towards Portuguese Creole and Portuguese.

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school level. A ¿fth factor is the international status of English, which makes it a possible choice in the new linguistic repertoire. Finally, we must take into account the communicative situation of the interview, in particular the fact that the informants were aware that I knew English, but not enough Igbo and NPE. Below (example 6) is an illustration of insertion due to lack of vocabulary. I asked informant F whether he had any Nigerian friends at all and in particular from other ethnic groups in his town. Speaker F is 34. He arrived in Italy ¿ve years before the interview was conducted. He speaks English, Igbo and NPE. His Italian is very basic and he ¿nds it a very dif¿cult language. He uses a lot of English code-switching when speaking Italian. In example 6, he answers using the insertion tribes: Example 6

1

Int:

2

F:

3

Int:

4

F:

5

Int:

6

F:

Hai amici nigeriani in Italia? (‘Have you got Nigerian friends in Italy?’) Sì, troppo, anche cugino (‘Yes many and also a cousin’) Sono nella tua città? (‘Are they in your city?’) No no, fuori un’altra regione sì. (‘No no, from another region yes’) Conosci anche nigeriani yoruba o hausa? (‘Do you also know Yoruba and Hausa Nigerians?’) Sono, conosce tanti di altre tribes (F-51). (‘I am, I know many from other tribes’)

The insertion of tribes in “sono, conosce tanti di altre tribes” (6 F) is accommodated in the Italian discourse by the preceding Italian di altre ‘from other’ which also shows number and gender agreement. In fact, the plurality is even over-expressed, if we compare the whole noun phrase di altre tribes with the standard Italian equivalent di altre tribù, where the word tribù is invariable in number. There are some instances of English switches which are immediately reformulated in Italian because the speaker realizes that he used the wrong word. In example 7, I asked speaker D to name the most popular Igbo dish. Speaker D is a 34-year-old man who lives in Padua. He arrived in Italy 6 years before the interview was conducted. In Nigeria, he had graduated from high school and was trained as a nurse. He now works in a factory not far from Padua. At the time of the interview, his wife had just arrived from Nigeria with their one-year-old daughter. They were present during the interview.

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Example 7 1

Int:

2

D:

Qual è il piatto igbo più popolare? (‘What is the most popular Igbo dish?’) Si chiama obua, è African salad, insalata di Africa, quando è maturare con sole apre tutti semina scatta…(D-59) (‘It’s called obua, it is an African salad, an African salad, when it ripens with the sun, it opens and all seeds come out…’)

In his answer, he uses the name of the dish in Igbo, obua. After a short pause, he appears to realise that the use of an Igbo word with a non-Igbo speaker is not only a switch but also needs further explanation. He restarts in Italian but in the attempt to explain what obua is, he switches to English. The switch, African salad, manages to explain what the Igbo dish is, of course, because I can understand English. After a second short pause, the only thing that is left to do is to restore the course of the conversation; so, the speaker self-repairs the switch with the Italian equivalent. This is a very good example of how the three languages at the disposal of the speaker can be used with different purposes in the communicative interaction in order to reach effective communication: the Igbo switch expresses a referential meaning, the English reformulation switch explains the Igbo word, and the subsequent Italian self-repair re-establishes the language of the conversation. In example 8, the topic is again Nigerian cuisine. Informant L explains how to prepare plantain and then gives various ways in which plantains could be eaten. She switches often, using English words to ¿ll her lexical gaps. Speaker L arrived in Italy ¿ve years before. The interview took place at her house. The word plantain was used by the informant at the beginning of the excerpt and because it was accepted by the hearer’s nodding, she continued to use it. On the other hand, the insertion pot is of a different kind. The speaker does not hesitate or wait for the interviewer to accept the insertion, as was the case with plantain. The word pot appears to be inserted as it was part of a mixed vocabulary, maybe because the word plantain was accepted by the hearer earlier. A third insertion, stew, is self-repaired. The speaker manages to recall the Italian word, so she reformulates it in Italian. A fourth insertion, egg, appears to be of the same kind as pot. Example 8 1

L:

…tu prendi plantain, [the interviewer nods] tu tagli due, tu mette in acqua, tu prende quello acqua e pot mette sopra di gas, quando ¿nito di cucinare tu prendi, tu vuoi mangiare con tuo stew, tuo sugo,

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Francesco Goglia quando tu non vuoi mangiare con sugo, tu vuoi mangiare con egg. (‘…you take plantain, you cut it in two, you put it in water, you take that water and the pot and put them on the hob, when it is cooked you take it, you can eat it with a stew, your stew, if you do not want to eat it with a stew, you can eat it with eggs..’)

Example 8 shows how variable the use of switches can be. Since there was no reaction by the hearer to the switch stew, the speaker could have gone on without any hesitation, as she did with the previous two switches. However, the word stew is different. The Igbo often use the Italian word sugo ‘sauce’ to describe Nigerian dishes. It is a recurrent item, part of a basic Italian vocabulary among Nigerians. Speaker L recalls the word and chooses to use it to repair the previous English switch. Examples such as pot and egg take place without any hesitation or pause; they do not have any particular discourse function, apart from ¿lling a lexical gap. Poplack et al. (1989) designate such switches as ‘smooth code-switching’. According to them, when using smooth code-switching “the speaker does not draw attention to the fact that language change has occurred, nor does the interlocutor have to acknowledge it” (1989: 133). Code-switching can appear in a more or less smooth manner according to different communities. For example, while the Puerto Ricans analyzed by Poplack et al. used more smoothswitching, bilingual speakers of French and English in the Ottawa-Hull region of Canada Àag code-switching by “metalinguistic commentary, repetition or translation” (Poplack et al. 1989: 134). Smooth code-switching is in most cases likely to be part of an unmarked switched code. This kind of code-switching is partly socially guided (Myers-Scotton 1993). This situation is also true for educated Igbo speakers primarily in informal conversations as we have seen in the previous section. Sometimes the Igbo have at their disposal both an Igbo and an English word for the same concept, and they choose the English because it is perceived in that speci¿c context as more normal and frequent. This is the case for words which belong to education, such as mahadum ‘university’, ulò akwukwo ‘college/school’ and nwatà akwukwo ‘student’. It is also true for legal and institution names: òchichi ‘government’ and ulò oru ‘of¿ce’ (Ugochukwu 2004). When speaking Italian, some Igbo speakers may replicate an already available switching behaviour in order to achieve effective communication. Evidence from metalinguistic judgements shows that Igbo speakers are aware of the diglossic relation between English and Igbo, the ¿rst being labelled as a language, while the latter is considered a dialetto ‘dialect’ (see example 5 above). The informants also show awareness of the diglossia in the Italian linguistic

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repertoire between Italian and a regional dialect (Goglia 2006). When the Nigerian linguistic repertoire merges with the Italian, the Igbo language selection works in the following way. The speakers know that the host country is not Igbo-speaking, so the English they-code is the only available code-switching provider for effective communication with Italians who also understand English. As for the Italian dialect, it is a we-code of local Italians, which all informants perceive as an Italian we-code, it being local in the same way that Nigerian languages belong to individual ethnic groups. The useful languages which are left are English and Italian. It is likely that when asked to speak Italian, the Igbo replicate unmarked code-switching patterns that would take place in an Igbo conversation. The use of this replicated unmarked code-switching does not cause any disruptive effect in the conversation, just as it took place in the English-Igbo switched code discourse: no overt long pauses, self-repairs, etc.

6.

Conclusion

In this chapter, I have discussed some instances of code-switching practice in the speech of Igbo-Nigerians in an immigrant context in Italy. I have presented two sets of data: conversational data among members of the Igbo community and semi-structured interviews involving Igbo-Nigerians and an Italian interviewer. Although the discussion in this chapter is not exhaustive, and the ¿rst set of data on conversations among members of the community needs further analysis, the data so far shows that Igbo speakers mix English, Igbo, NPE, Italian and the Veneto dialect when they are speaking with Nigerian interlocutors, and that code-switching could either be part of a mixed code without any immediate goal in the conversation or it could have a conversational function. In the migrant context, Italian and the Veneto dialect are added to the speakers’ multilingual linguistic repertoire and code-switching in these languages represents an enrichment of the lexicon and the communicative strategies at the disposal of the speakers. Examples from the second set of data show that English code-swtching in Italian discourse can help the speakers to achieve effective communication in their Italian interlingual variety. I suggested that some instances of English code-switching in the Italian discourse which appear without disrupting the conversation may be interpreted as a replica of an already established code-switching behaviour in English-Igbo discourse. It is interesting to note that Igbo-Nigerians’ postcolonial language use and code-switching patterns occur in a country which was not their colonizer. The linguistic outcomes in such a context are similar and yet more complex than those in other postcolonial immigrant communities all around Europe such

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as the Samoans in Amsterdam, the Jamaicans in London and the Algerians in France, because these speakers shared already the language of the colonizers. Further research needs to explore how language use and code-switching patterns will develop in the future generations.

References Adegbija, Efurosibina 2004 Multilingualism: A Nigerian Case Study. Trenton, New Jersey: African World Press. Ahukanna, Joshua G.W. 1990 Bilingualism and code-mixing in language use in Nigeria: The case of Igbo-English bilinguals. In: Emenanjo, Nolue E. (ed.), Igbo Language and Culture. Onitsha: Central Books Ltd. 175 – 291. Amuda, Ayoade A. 1986 Yoruba/English Code-switching in Nigeria: Aspects of its Functions and Form. PhD thesis, University of Reading. Auer, Peter 1984 Bilingual Conversation. Amsterdam: Benjamins Auer, Peter 1995 The pragmatics of code-switching: A sequential approach. In: Milroy, Lesley and Pieter Muysken (eds.), One Speaker, Two Languages. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 115 – 135. Auer, Peter (ed.) 1998 Code-Switching in Conversation. London: Routledge. Babajide, Adeyemi O. 2001 Language attitude patterns of Nigeria. In: Igboanusi, Herbert (ed.), pp. 1 – 13. Backus, Ad 1996 Two in One: Bilingual Speech of Turkish Immigrants in the Netherlands. Tilburg: Tilburg University Press. Bamgbose, Ayo 1995 Three decades of African Linguistics Research. In: Akinlabi, Akinbiyi (ed.), Theoretical Approaches to African Linguistics. Trenton, New Jersey: African World Press Inc. 1 – 17. Bamiro, Edmund O. 1991 The social and functional power of Nigerian English. World Englishes 10(3): 275 – 286. Bokamba, Eyamba G. 1991 West Africa. In: Cheshire, Jenny (ed.), English around the World. Sociolinguistic Perspective. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 92 – 508.

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Aspects of Language Contact: A Variationist Perspective on Codeswitching and Borrowing in Igbo-English Bilingual Discourse. PhD thesis, University of Ottawa. Faraclas, Nicholas 1996 Nigerian Pidgin. London: Routledge. Fincati, Veronica 2005 Immigrazione in Veneto. Rapporto annuale. Osservatorio Immigrazione Regione Veneto. Giacomi, Alain, Henriette Stoffel and Daniel Véronique 2000 Appropriation du français par des Marocains arabophones à Marseille: Bilan d’une Recherche. Aix-en-Provence: Publications de l’Université de Provence. Goglia, Francesco 2004 The interlanguage of Igbo Nigerians immigrated in Italy, with particular attention to the interference with the English language. In: Baur, Siegfried (ed.), Il soggetto plurilingue. Interlingua, aspetti di neurolinguistica, identità e interculturalità. Milano: Franco Angeli. 23 – 120. Goglia, Francesco 2006 Communicative Strategies in the Italian of Igbo-Nigerian Immigrants in Padova (Italy): A Contact Linguistic Approach. PhD thesis, University of Manchester. Gnerre Maurizio 1990 Il discorso sul linguaggio e il linguaggio del discorso: l’acquisizione del sistema verbale italiano da parte dei capoverdiani a Roma. In: Bernini, Giuliano and Giacalone Ramat Anna (eds.), La temporalità nell’acquisizione di lingue seconde. Milano: Franco Angeli. 131 – 146. Guerini, Federica 2006 Language Alternation Strategies in Multilingual Settings. A Case Study: Ghanaian Immigrants in Northern Italy. Bern: Peter Lang. Igboanusi, Herbert (ed.) 2001 Language Attitude and Language ConÀict in West Africa. Ibadan: Enicrown¿t Publishers. Li, Wei 1994 Three Generations, Two Languages, One Family: Language Choice and Language Shift in a Chinese Community in Britain. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Meeuwis, Michael 1997 Constructing Sociolinguistic Consensus: A Linguistic Ethnography of the Zairian Community in Antwerp, Belgium. Duisburg: LICCA papers. Meeuwis, Michael and Jan Blommaert 1998 A monolectal view of code-switching: Layered code-switching among Zairians in Belgium. In: Auer, Peter (ed.), pp. 76 – 98.

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Myers-Scotton, Carol 1993 Social Motivations for Code-switching. Evidence from Africa. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Nortier, Jacomine 1995 Code-switching in Moroccan Arabic/Dutch versus Moroccan Arabic/ French language contact. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 112: 81 – 95. Onuigbo, Gregory Nwoye 1993 Code-switching as a conscious strategy: Evidence from Igbo. Multilingua 12(4): 365 – 385. Oyetade, S. Oluwole 2001 Attitude to foreign languages and indigenous language use in Nigeria. In: Igboanusi, Herbert (ed.), pp. 14 – 29. Poplack, Shana, Susan Wheeler and Anneli Westwood 1989 Distinguishing language contact phenomena: Evidence from FinnishEnglish bilingualism. In: Hyltenstam, Kenneth and Loraine K. Obler (eds.) Bilingualism across the Lifespan. Aspects of Acquisition, Maturity and Loss. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 132 – 154. Sebba, Mark and Tony Wootton 1998 We, they and identity: Sequential versus identity-related explanation in code-switching. In: Auer, Peter (ed.), pp. 262 – 289. Swigart, Leigh 1992 Two codes or one? The insiders’ view and the description of code-switching in Dakar. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 13(1&2): 83 – 102. Ugochukwu, Françoise 2004 Dictionaire igbo-français. Paris: Édition Karthala et IFR.

Conclusion

Chapter 16 Meeting of the exs: The ex-colonised meets the ex-coloniser Stephen A. Mforteh

1.

Introduction

Several linguistic realisations, referred to here as voices, pertaining to sociolinguistic realities of different postcolonial communities have been discussed in the chapters of this book. The major revelation is that patterns of sociolinguistic interaction in most of these communities are predominantly similar albeit with regional peculiarities. The contributions shed light on the still under-developed ¿eld of ‘postcolonial linguistics’ raising hopes of it emerging strongly to handle aspects not properly covered by the predominantly literary, highly contested, ‘postcolonial theory’. The papers in this volume equally question our common understanding of cultural interrelationships across time, across cultures, and in multilingual settings through the varied and multifaceted investigations of discourses that represent the voices and choices of ex-colonised and ex-coloniser peoples. Irrespective of the varied nature of the topics discussed, the authors convincingly show that language is the conveyor belt that brings together the new identities and orientations emerging in the postcolonial epoch and projected in the different postcolonial linguistic voices. Language is equally that element that links the former coloniser and the former colonised in the far off geographical and ideological extremes in which they ¿nd themselves today. The contributions from Botswana, Cameroon, Kenya, Mozambique, Nigeria, Uganda, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and India reveal the extent to which crossbreeding or hybridisation is a feature of the postcolonial, especially if juxtaposed with the fairly stable but rapidly changing (monolingual) linguistic contexts exhibited in the contributions from Portugal, Denmark and Italy. Such juxtaposition provides insights into cultural habits, religious followings, interpersonal deference, Àuctuating identities, emerging idioms, and the shifting balance of power in the modern nation-state.

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The aim of the rest of this brief concluding chapter is to synthesise current conceptualisations of the former coloniser and former colonised as depicted in most of the chapters of this volume, revisit issues of identity choices and representations, establish the place of language in nationhood, and initiate trends in future postcolonial linguistic research. Before delving into the above, it is relevant here to return brieÀy to the major issues handled in the ¿ve parts of the book. In part one, focus is on the interplay of age, gender, ethnicity and language in the construction of postcolonial identities. The complexities of the postcolonial linguistic landscape and the coats of linguistic, national, individual and ethnic identities are revealed, and shown to play vital roles in patterns of social interaction and national or group bonding. Part two takes us deeper into nationhood discourses and how the nation-state, its of¿cial and indigenous languages, and its leaders are involved in various forms of ‘challenges’ in their representations and claims to national space and power. ‘Translating the postcolonial’, as part three is entitled, visits translations, representations, and conceptualisations of various colonially-introduced facets especially religion and lexicography. Religious texts constitute a major part of what has been referred to as, and studied under, ‘postcolonial translation’. The colonial encounter is projected here in the extent to which it affected religious belonging, lexicographic traditions, and attitudes towards standards of languages. In part four entitled ‘Living the postcolonial’, the way local communities have appropriated or nativised ex-colonial languages is presented with the help of data gathered from schools, ethnic groups and the general public. The postcolonial voices in these communities have ceased to justify the assumed ‘superiority’ of the ex-colonial languages and have moved on to modify, consciously or unconsciously, existing structures and identities or create new ones that are hybrid or hybridising but that represent them in their current internal states. Part ¿ve, ‘Colonising the coloniser’ offers salient glimpses into life and sociolinguistic interaction in the ex-coloniser nations as they cope with their roles in colonialism, integrate immigrant groups from ex-colonised countries, and adopt non-standard languages, creoles especially, from ex-colonised countries spoken in the European (Italy and Portugal) metropolis. In all ¿ve parts, the postcolonial linguistic voice emerges in different ways and in reaction to different tendencies as it represents choices in identity and expression.

Meeting of the exs: The ex-colonised meets the ex-coloniser

2.

347

Conceptualisations: Colonised and coloniser

As mentioned in the introduction to this book, linguistic outcomes and conceptualisations of colonisation go beyond the historical events generally identi¿ed with it: creation of political Western-based nation states, military conquests, and independence. This is because new sociolinguistic facets have emerged in these contexts that defy patterns introduced during colonialism. For instance, indigenous languages and pidgins are gradually encroaching into some of the lingua franca roles earlier played by ex-colonial languages – see the cases of Mozambique (chapter 5) and Uganda (chapter 6). Gender equality and ethnic group identities are no more tied to the controversial dichotomy of West vs. Africa or modern vs. traditional but have been recreated anew in ways that represent local reality – as in the case of Botswana (chapter 3), Cameroon (chapter 4) and Kenya (chapter 2). Colonially-inscribed religious dogmas have been challenged and redressed to suit local tastes and priorities – as shown in Nigeria (chapter 9) and South India (chapter 8). Ethnic accents now take pride in representing ex-colonial languages – e.g. in Cameroon (chapter 12). And the core of knowledge is no more linked with foreign standards and preferences but now has to be dictated by home standards, for instance, in lexicography and nativisation – as in Nigeria (chapter 10), Hong Kong and Taiwan (chapter 11). Even in the ex-coloniser nations, a certain form of back-colonisation could be witnessed whereby youths recreate themselves anew in identities linked with ex-colonial immigrant populations and pop culture – as is the case in Portugal (chapter 14). Aside of this, signi¿cant numbers of immigrant voices from the ex-colonised regions are now heard from within the ex-coloniser countries – the case of Italy (chapter 15) and Portugal (chapter 14). These new voices and their impact on the hitherto predominantly monolingual and monocultural communities call for new investigations and interpretations. Future investigations will also have to expose the hidden, sanitising tendencies in discourses in some Western countries that seek to acquit themselves of colonial atrocities. In these discourses, Hornscheidt (chapter 13) explains: “Instead of being perceived and denoted as ideology, colonialism is solely conceptualised as a historical phase”. How reliable is it to de¿ne the dictionary entry ‘slave trade’ as “trade with white women as prostitutes”, as monolingual Danish dictionaries do? Such sanitising conceptualisations tend to recreate the dichotomies described below and to insist on maintaining the crumbling postcolonial binaries described in the introduction to this book. The relationship between the two ex’s is a curious one. First, the ex-colonised have adopted and adapted ex-colonial languages as national of¿cial codes and have nativised them exceedingly. They construct linguistic identities on

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them and use them to construct social strata in the society. Second, there is a conscious presence of each on the other’s mind. The ex-colonised stick to linguistic heritages of colonialism, for instance, English, French and Portuguese are generally accepted by the ex-colonised without any remorse. Colonial religions still thrive in these regions. But the ex-colonisers have mixed reactions ranging from detaching themselves from certain acts of colonialism to identifying with certain trends: 1) they want to sanitise their role in colonialism (chapter 13), 2) they want to integrate the ex-colonised: Igbo immigrants use the Veneto dialect (chapter 15), and 3) they try to copy certain elements from them (chapter 14). This consciousness of each other forms part of the ‘postcolonial linguistic voices’ this volume describes. The above issues taken together, it is relevant to say here that earlier dichotomies on the basis of colonised vs. coloniser, modern vs. traditional, progressive vs. primitive, and centre vs. periphery no longer hold sway in most postcolonial communities. Among other things, “language loyalties are symbolic manifestations of other grievances on a political, economic, or social level” (Firmino, this volume) in postcolonial communities and cannot simply be plotted on the above dichotomies.

3.

Identity choices and representations

The de¿nition of identity that runs through the chapters of this volume places the individual as a member of a group whose multifaceted structures s/he identi¿es with or shifts away from temporarily for several reasons. Linguistic or social identities, therefore, are not ¿xed but are negotiated and renegotiated according to demands of context and stakes of social, political and economic relationships, inter-ethnic animosity, interlingual victimisation, and convenience grouping. From Botswana through Kenya up to Cameroon and across to India, in-group building whether on linguistic, social (youth), ethnic or religious bases, involves the construction of several layers of identities which group members turn to when context so requires. It is interesting to note, for instance, that the traditional concepts of gods and spirits and spiritual warfare embedded in the Yoruba ethnic identity are transferred to, and used for, religious doctrines by parishioners who follow church services in the Yoruba language. So, within a religious context where they identify themselves as believers and Christians, several elements of the ethnic identity layer are called up (Odidiomo, this volume). What the multiple identities mean is that, although people will continue to switch to other languages and groups, their ethnic identities will continue to re-

Meeting of the exs: The ex-colonised meets the ex-coloniser

349

main solid since it is to this that they retreat each time the larger layers fail. This is the case of Cameroon where the anglophones and francophones have built larger identity groups around English and French respectively but continue to maintain their ethnic identities. As Anchimbe (chapter 4) shows, many subtle socio-ethnic disputes exist between these ethnic groups and so force people to reject their members when in unfavourable situations, or ban their language in certain contexts. At the ethnic level, the identity icons, francophone and anglophone, cease to be binding. Although these identity choices, at ¿rst sight, may appear to hamper social cohesion in these multilingual settings, they, however, do not. One historical reason could be that these settings were already multilingual before colonialism came and so had developed tolerance for new and divergent groups and ideas. What is interesting is that colonially-introduced elements are being adopted into the sociocultural background in a natural way that does not drastically disrupt cohesion.

4.

Managing multilingualism and trends for future research

As far as the linguistic plurality of the world today is concerned, two important issues can be raised: ¿rst, multilingualism has now ceased to be a facet of postcolonial communities and is fast becoming, through the removal of national and regional boundaries and advancement in international travel, a norm in many communities. Even the hitherto traditionally monolingual voices of most Western communities are now rapidly becoming multilingual. The case of Padua in Italy (chapter 15) with signi¿cantly big immigrant communities is an example. Second, linguistic behaviour in these communities is also rapidly adopting certain multilingual characteristics like code-switching, code-mixing, and conceptual borrowing hitherto identi¿ed with postcolonial communities. Postcolonial regions have stopped ‘¿ghting back as the empire’ represented in postcolonial theory but now describe themselves in the state in which they are, which is why we propose in this volume that community-based approaches be used to describe them. For this to be achieved, linguistic disciplines, especially sociolinguistics, pragmatics and historical linguistics, have to look at postcolonial spaces in their wholeness as complete sociohistorical communities, which though were inÀuenced by colonial structures, have now evolved into new structures that cannot ultimately be described using colonial lenses. One of the motivations for this novel approach is that even coloniser communities have seen change, and for that matter, change caused or ignited by colonialism.

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The chapters in this collection are far from exhaustive but point to domains in which extant research is still lacking. The topics handled here are also not exhaustive. We will be happy to see more in depth studies into these and other topics like patterns of religious acculturation, issues in the colonising-the-coloniser phenomenon, cultural transfers and transgressions in Bible translation, Àuctuating linguistic identities, and traditions in lexicography and orthography design for indigenous African languages, pidgins and creoles – just to name these few. A few earlier studies focused on some of these aspects, among them, Mühleisen and Migge (2005), Mforteh (2006), Anchimbe (2007), Mulo Farenkia (2008), Harrow and Mpoche (2009), and Anchimbe and Janney (2011).

References Anchimbe, Eric A. (ed.) 2007 Linguistic Identity in Postcolonial Multilingual Spaces. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Anchimbe, Eric A. and Richard W. Janney (eds.) 2011 Postcolonial Pragmatics. Special Issue Journal of Pragmatics 43 (6). Harrow, Kenneth and Kizitus Mpoche (eds.) 2008 Language, Literature and Education in Multicultural Societies: Collaborative Research on Africa. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Mforteh, A. Stephen 2006 Hedging as a persuasive tool in Cameroon leadership discourse. South South Journal of Culture and Development 8(2): 93 – 123. Mulo Farenkia, Bernard (ed.) 2008 De la politesse linguistique au Cameroun. Linguistic Politeness in Cameroon. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. Mühleisen, Susanne and Bettina Migge (eds.) 2005 Politeness and Face in Caribbean Creoles. Amsterdam: Benjamins.

Contributors

Eric A. Anchimbe is an Assistant Professor of English Linguistics at the University of Bayreuth, Germany. He obtained his PhD from the University of Munich in 2005 and is currently working on a post-doctoral (Habilitation) project on offers and offer refusals in postcolonial communities using the postcolonial pragmatics framework he and Dick Janney proposed in the special issue of the Journal of Pragmatics entitled Postcolonial Pragmatics (2011). His other recent publications include Linguistic Identity in Postcolonial Multilingual Spaces (Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2007) and Cameroon English: Authenticity, Ecology and Evolution (Peter Lang, 2006). Among his research interests are world Englishes, linguistic identity construction, and postcolonial pragmatics. Email: [email protected] Sibonile Edith Ellece is a lecturer in the Department of English at the University of Botswana. Her areas of specialisation include the gender and language interface, discourse analysis, and pragmatics. Following her PhD thesis on Marriage Discourses in Botswana, she has published journal articles and book chapters, and presented several papers on the subject at international conferences and seminars. She has been involved in organising a series of seminars and conferences on Gender and Language in African Contexts held in Leeds, UK (November 2007), Gaborone, Botswana (April 2008), London, UK (November 2008), Dschang, Cameroon (April 2009) and Ile Ife, Nigeria (April 2010). These were meant to promote the study of gender and language in Africa. She is currently working on a project on participatory democracy and the media with a focus on Radio Botswana’s phone-in programmes. Email: [email protected] Gregório Firmino teaches in the Department of Linguistics and Literature at Eduardo Mondlane University Maputo, Mozambique. He is also Deputy Dean for postgraduate studies in the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences at the same university. He obtained his PhD from the University of California, Berkeley, USA with the thesis: Revisiting the Language Question in Post Colonial Africa. The Case of Portuguese and Indigenous Languages in Mozambique. Email: gregorio¿[email protected]

352

Contributors

Francesco Goglia is a lecturer in Italian at the University of Exeter. His research interests include multilingualism and language contact in immigrant communities, code-switching, and Italian linguistics, in particular the interplay of standard Italian and dialects in every day conversation and the variety of Italian spoken in Eritrea. He has published on multilingualism among IgboNigerians in Italy, and he is now working on a study of patterns of multilingualism among different generations of the East-Timorese diasporic community in Portugal. Email: [email protected] Antje Lann Hornscheidt is Professor in gender studies and linguistic analysis at Humboldt University Berlin, Germany. She has held guest professorships in Lund, Uppsala, Örebro, Stockholm, Graz, and Åbo. Among her research interests are language and discrimination, linguistic privileging, intersectionality-transdependencies of power structures, feminist positionings, postcolonial discourse analysis, and critical lexicography. Her recent publications include: Rassismus auf gut deutsch: Ein kritisches Nachschlagewerk zu rassistischen Sprachhandlungen (edited with Adibeli Nduka-Agwu): Frankfurt/Main (Brandes & Apsel, 2010), including many chapters by L. Hornscheidt; Gender resigni¿ziert: Schwedische Aushandlungen in und um Sprache. Berlin: Berliner Beiträge zur Skandinavistik (2008); “Intersectional challenges to gender studies: Gender studies as a challenge to intersectionality.” In: Cecilia Åsberg et al. (eds.): Gender Delight: Science, Knowledge, Culture and Writing. Linköping (2009); “An agenda for critical lexicographic research within critical discourse studies: An investigation on racism/colonialism in monolingual Danish, German and Swedish dictionaries.” In: Critical Discourse Studies 5(2), 107 – 132 (2008). Email: [email protected]

Contributors

353

Hephzibah Israel has researched literary and sacred translations in the South Asian context, with a particular focus on religious, linguistic and identity politics. She has studied Protestant Translations of the Bible in Tamil, and the translation of Protestant sacred and literary practices in South India. Her book on this subject, Religious Transactions: Translation, Conversion and the Making of Protestant Tamil Identity in Colonial South India (Palgrave-Macmillan) is due in 2011. Hephzibah taught English Literature at Lady Shri Ram College, University of Delhi for ten years and is now Arts Associate Lecturer at Open University, UK. Email: [email protected] David C.S. Li obtained his BA in English in Hong Kong, MA in Applied Linguistics in Besançon, France, and PhD in Linguistics in Cologne, Germany. His research interests are mainly related to the study of social aspects of language learning and use in multilingual settings. He has published in three main areas: World Englishes and perceptions of ‘Hongkong English’, code-switching in Hong Kong and Taiwan, and EFL learners’ dif¿culties and error-correction strategies. His research was supported by various grants, including two government-funded Competitive Earmarked Research Grants (CERG). He speaks Cantonese, English and Putonghua/Mandarin Àuently and also some German and French. Email: [email protected] Christina Märzhäuser works as Assistant Professor for Romance Linguistics at Munich University. After a diploma in English-German translation and an MA in Romanistics, Intercultural Communication and Educational Science from 2001-2006, she completed her PhD in Linguistics in co-tutelle at the universities of Munich and Coimbra in 2009. Her publication Portugiesisch und Kabuverdianu im Kontakt: Muster des Code-switching und lexikalische Innovationen in Raptexten aus Lissabon (Peter Lang, 2011) gives detailed information about the use of language by Portuguese-Capeverdean bilingual rappers in Lisbon. Her research interests include language contact, creolistics, nominal determination, syntax-semantics interface and language use in music cultures. She has carried out research on Portuguese, Capeverdean and French. She is scienti¿c collaborator at CELGA Coimbra. Email: [email protected]

354

Contributors

Christiane Meierkord is Chair Professor of English Linguistics at Ruhr University Bochum. She is editor of The Sociolinguistics of Lingua Franca Communication (2006) and co-editor of Lingua Franca Communication (2002), in which she approaches lingua franca communication in English from a variationist and World Englishes perspective. Her present research investigates processes and products of linguistic identity construction on the African continent, particularly in South Africa and Kenya. A second focus deals with the role, forms and functions of English in the diverse communities of Germany’s Ruhr Area, especially in the working and lower middle classes and among migrant groups. Email: [email protected] Stephen A. Mforteh did a Masters in EAP/ESP in Aston, Birmingham and has been involved in teaching English as a second language in Cameroon. He later obtained a PhD from the University of Yaounde 1, Cameroon where he is currently an Associate Professor of English Linguistics. Mforteh’s area of interest is language and identity, identity and political leadership. He is working on a book that seeks to reveal the identities of leaders and followers in the closing decade of the 20th century when multiparty politics resurfaced in Cameroon after 35 years of a monolithic regime. Apart from this work in progress, he has published several peer reviewed articles and book chapters in France, Germany, Cameroon and Nigeria. Email: [email protected] Folorunso Odidiomo studied German in Ile-Ife, Nigeria and didactics in German as a foreign language in Jena, Germany. He teaches German language and linguistics in the Department of Foreign Languages of the Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife. His areas of research are cognitive semantics (particularly lexical semantics and metaphor), meaning construction, and the application of cognitive semantics to translation, religion and rituals. Email: [email protected]

Contributors

355

Bonaventure M. Sala is a Senior Lecturer in English Grammar and Stylistics in the English Department at the University of Yaounde I, Cameroon. He holds a PhD in English Grammar from the same university and is interested in the grammatical description of the New Englishes with special focus on Cameroon English and Cameroon Pidgin English. He is co-author, with Paul N. Mbangwana, of Cameroon English Morphology and Syntax: Current Trends in Action (Lincom, 2009). His papers have appeared in international journals like English World-Wide, English Today, Alizés, PhiN and World Englishes. Email: [email protected] Jude Ssempuuma holds a BA in Philosophy from the Makerere University, Uganda and an MA in English Language and Intercultural Studies from the University of Bayreuth, Germany. His MA thesis, Luganda-English Code Switching among the Baganda in Uganda, focused on the emerging role of Luganda as a lingua franca. He is currently a teaching and research assistant in English Linguistics at the Ruhr University Bochum. He is also working on his PhD project. His research interests are in the area of multilingualism, English as a lingua franca, and language and gender in Africa especially in Uganda. Email: [email protected] Chinedu Uchechukwu is a lecturer in the Department of Linguistics, Nnamdi Azikiwe University Awka, Nigeria. He studied English (BA), German Phililogy (MA), and Lexicography and German Linguistics (PhD). His research interests cut across the ¿elds of lexicology and lexicography, cognitive linguistics, corpus linguistics and Igbo language. He is presently working on the semantics of the Igbo verb roots which he seeks to explain through what he calls the Root Schema, an application of the cognitive linguistics Image Schema approach. The objective of his root schema project is to produce an image schema-based dictionary of the Igbo language. Email: [email protected]

Subject Index accent 87, 251, ethnic accents 17, 347 ‘u-ful’ accent 252, 256, 258 Adura (prayer) 184, 186, 189, 190, 192, 194–195 African American Vernacular English 30, 318 African lexicography 201, 204–205, 210 Afro-Europeans 104, 107 Aladura church 183, 185–187 American English 14, 30, 33, 42, 203, 266 anglophones 8, 78, 80, 81–82, 85–87, 89–90, 349 argumentation 14, 51, 57–58, 268 assimilados 105 attribute listing task 184, 188 bairros 303–304, 306, 315–316 bilingualism 3, 9, 37, 79, 86, 301, 308 breaching experiment, see revelation through disruption 217, 234 Cameroon English 9, 19–21, 79, 95, 241–243, 245, 260–261, 351, 355 Cameroon French 9, 79 Cape Verdean Creole (CVC) 18, 299–300, 302–303, 305 code-switching 4, 17, 31, 221, 317, 323–326, 338, 349 code-switching motivations (passim) 233, 235, 236 linguistic motivations of codeswitching 220, 235 semantically motivated codeswitching 216, 217 social motivation of codeswitching 215, 234 topic-speci¿c code-switching 232– 233, 235–237

unmarked code-switching 324, 330, 335 colonialism ix, 5, 10, 13, 18, 78, 85, 107, 203, 207, 265–266, 275–278, 282, 346 Danish colonialism 275, 277, 289 European colonialism 265–266, 278, 282 Franco-British colonialism 85 French colonialism 90 Western colonialism 266 colonial heritage 236–237 colonial encounter ix, 346 colonial atrocities 5, 347 coloniser nations/regions 5, 7, 11, 12, 17, 305, 345–346, 349 ex-coloniser 3, 6, 345, 347–348 ex-colonised 3, 6, 345, 346 colonised territories/countries 5, 12, 201, 202, 266, 268, 316, 346 communication 3, 12, 39, 53, 100, 109, 123, 135, 196, 308, 335, 338 electronic 222–223 face to face 51 interpersonal communication 6 interethnic or intergroup 13, 119 intra-ethnic communication 112, 236 conceptual structures 184, 188–189, 196 conceptualisation 3, 7, 10, 13, 184, 194–195, 346–347 conversation analysis 215 conversational turn 54, 324 creole pragmatics 19 critical discourse analysis 51, 268, 276, 293 critical whiteness studies 268, 293 dialect 14, 18, 52, 123, 266, 300–301, 323, 335, 338 diaspora communities 17–18, 92, 305, 316

358

Subject Index

diaspora Englishes 34 distance-closing strategy 148, 150 discourse 3, 25, 54, 74, 143–144, 158, 169, 338 colonial discourses 268–269, 278–279 gendered discourse 58 leadership discourse 143–144, 147 nationhood discourses 12, 14, 346 political discourse 15, 143, 145, 173 postcolonial discourses 15, 73, 292 religious discourse 186 ecology 15, 27, 111, 113 emic perspectives/approaches 4–5, 10–11, 16, 220, 231 Engsh 14, 26, 33, 39–40, 43, 45 episodic memory 194, 197 ethnomethodology 217, 234 exclusive strategy 153, 158 feature pool 26, 34–37, 38 ¿rst-impression hypothesis 221, 228, 230–232, 235 focus group 216–220, 223, 234–235 foreign culture lexicography 201, 202, 203–204, 210 francophones 8, 78, 80, 82–83, 86–87, 91, 93, 349 Hindu 171, 173, 178–180, Hinduism 169, 178 Hindu sacred literatures 167, 170 Hindu texts 168, 174, 179 Hindu traditions 167, 173, 178–179 Hindu Vedas 171–172 hip hop 30, 304, 313 global hip-hop culture 30 Lisbon hip hop scene 304 identity 11, 14, 30, 53–54, 77, 93, 144, 217, 267, 324 acts of identity 79–80, 311, 327 Cameroon anglophone identity 78, 82, 84–86, 89

Chinese-cum-western identity 217, 236 cultural identity 14, 25, 51, 53, 64, 79, 300 ethnic identity 83, 299, 348 feminine/masculine identity 54, 59 glocal identity 45 group identity 54, 84, 327 hybrid identities 44, 304–305 identity alignment 11, 91 identity choices 3, 346, 348–349 identity negotiation 18, 217, 235 identity opportunism 11, 80, 82 individual identity 53–54, 83 linguistic identity construction 5, 9, 34, 45, 83, 93, 305, 313 national identity 86, 108 political identity 58, 145 religious identity 64 social identity 14, 307, 313 Tswana identity 51, 52, 58, 67, 73 imagistic mode 185, 197 inclusive strategy 149 indigenisation 16–17, 197 indigenous languages 7–9, 35, 78, 81, 99–102, 112, 114, 120, 139, 326–327, 346 interactions across English (IaE) 34–33 intro-interaction 15, 144, 154–155, 157 Kenyan English (KenE) 26, 28–29, 33, 35, 43 Kiswahili 27, 29, 31, 40–42, 119, 123, 129, 132 Kriolu 301, 303, 307, 310, 312–313 Rap Kriolu 313, 315 Lamnso’ English 242–243, 255 language choice 167, 178, 184, 215, 218–220, 311, 313, 319, 325 language contact 25–26, 241, 301–305, 317 language of wider communication (LWC) 99–100, 102

Subject Index

learning effect 232, 235 medium-of-learning effect 221, 228–230, 232, 235–236 lexical gap 216, 218, 234 lingua franca 10, 14, 27, 119–120, 122–123, 132–133, 139, 326–327, 347 linguistic victimisation 17, 78, 80–82, 86, 258 Luso-Africans 304 marginalization 53, 78, 80, 89–90, 112, 305, 315 markedness model 215 mental images 186, 189, 193–195, 197 metalexicography 276 monolingual 203–204, 299, 326, 333, 347 context 203–204 countries 9, 18, 80, 299 dictionaries 17, 202, 269, 275–277, 283, 290 settler colony 203 speakers 333 voices 349 multilingualism, multilingual 4, 10, 12–13, 25–26, 81, 120, 323, 327, 329, 349 communication 3–4, 12 discourses 12 language policy 25 multilingualisation 18 nationstate/country 114, 119 (postcolonial) communities 13, 78, 80, 120, 323 spaces 36 speakers 234, 324 structures 11, 14 national language 9, 27, 54, 114, 135, 219, 267, 300, 309, 323 native culture lexicography 203–204, 209–210 native speaker lexicographers 204 nativisation 99, 102, 110, 112, 138, 347

359

New Englishes 11, 25, 111, 243, 268 Nigerian Pidgin English (NPE) 9, 323, 326, 330–331, 336 peer group 299, 305–306, 308–310, 312 political leadership role 143, 146, postcolonial 3, 4, 36, 73, 79, 99, 122, 143, 145, 180, 185, 209, 236, 265, 291, 301, 346, 349 binaries 4, 6, 9, 14, 19, 78, 347 countries/societies/communities 3, 4, 6, 9–11, 36, 68, 80, 100–102, 217, 235, 324 emancipation 300 Englishes 6, 258 hybridisation 305 identities 13, 19, 52, 58, 346 linguistics 13, 19, 265, 267–269, 284, 293, 345 pragmatics 19 theory 3, 278, 345 voices 3, 346 post independence era 201, 205, 207, 209 post-nasal alternation 242 pronunciation 17, 29, 32, 37, 138, 225, 242, 246, 257 spelling pronunciation 250, 255 protestant missionaries 16, 104, 106, 167–171, 180 prototype theory 184, 188 rap lyrics 299, 313, 318 reÀective diary 218, 220, 222, 230 religious lexemes 189, 193 religious rituals 184–185 religiosity 16, 183–185, 196 doctrinal mode 185, 194, 196 modes of religiosity 184–185 revelation through disruption, see breaching experiment 217, 234 rule of speaking 216, 219, 221

360

Subject Index

Sanskrit 170, 172–174, 177–180 scriptures 64, 167, 169–170, 174 Christian Scriptures 169, 173 Hindu Scriptures 168–170, 172–173 Islamic Scriptures 169 Protestant Scriptures 168–169, 179 self-report data 217, 221, 234 semantic memory 185 Sheng 14, 26, 31–33, 39–41, 45 Slave Trade 18, 283, 290–291, 292, 347 social roles 143, 145, 157, 159 (Standard) British English 29, 40, 243, 266, 286 Standard English 40–41 state bilingualism 77 sub-regional and ethnic varieties in Cameroon English 242–243, 257 substrate evidence 242, 258 Tamil 16, 167–170, 172–173, 176, 180 postcolonial protestant Tamil theology 177 postcolonial Tamil culture 180 protestant Tamils 172, 174 Tamil Bible 170–171, 174, 176, 180 Tamil religious culture 178–179 Tamil sacred literature 167, 170, 177 Tamil sacred vocabulary 170, 179 Tamil Vedas 168, 178, 180 terms of address 225

The Bible 16, 64–65, 72, 125, 167–170, 172, 180, 196 topos, topoi 59–60, 63–68, 70–71 translation 12, 15, 110, 167, 172, 216 Bible translation 11, 15, 186, 350 cultural translations 13 postcolonial translation 15, 346 translation equivalent 215, 220, 221, 222, 225–228, 235 unwanted semantic loss or gain 217, 227–228

216–

variation 52, 241, 301, 317, 324 dialectal variations 52 degree of variation 257 ethnic variations 257 ethnolinguistic variation 112 free variation 223 sociolectal variations 300 Veneto dialect 18, 323, 325, 329–330, 339, 348 Yoruba 8, 10, 183–184, 186–189, 197, 266, 326–327, 335, 348 White Kenyan English 33–34 white immigration 106 white settlers 110 white slave trade 283

Author index Abdulaziz, Mohamed H. 28, 31–32, 39 Abraham, Roy C. 205 Achebe, Chinua 25, 207 Adams, R.F.G. 205–206 Adegbija, Efurosibina 326 Adegboyin, Deji 187 Ahukanna, Joshua G.W. 328 Aitchison, Jean 186 Albino, Cristina 317 Algeo, John 203 Ammon, Ulrich 236 Amuda, Ayoade A. 324, 327, 335 Anchimbe, Eric A. 4, 6–7, 9–11, 14, 79–81, 83–86, 91, 93, 258, 268, 301, 305, 350 Ansaldo, Umberto 11, 91 Antaki, Charles 145 Anzaldúa, Gloria v, 3 Asaph, Robert 130 Ashcroft, Bill 281, 285 Atanga, L. Lilian 60 Atechi, Samuel N. 241–242 Atkins, Sue B. T. 210 Auer, Peter 215, 323–324 Awak, Mairo K. 204 Ayivi, Christian K. 201–202 Babajide, Adeyemi O. 326 Backus, Ad 325 Baker, Paul 66 Bakker, Peter 266 Bamgbose, Ayo 326 Bamiro, Edmund O. 326 Banboye, William W. 253 Barrett, Justin 184 Bartels, Anke 10 Bassnett, Susan 15 Berner, Ulrich 185 Berns, Margie 216 Besnier, Niko 73

Biloa, Edmond 9, 79 Blackledge, Adrian 143–145 Blom, Jan-Petter 217, 234 Blommaert, Jan 265, 324 Boadu, Samuel Osei 125 Boas, Franz 11 Bogaards, Paul 210 Bokamba, Eyamba G. 11, 25, 100, 326 Bolonyai, Agnes 215 Bosire, Mokaya 32 Boyer, Pascal 184 Brathwaite, Edward Kamau 266–267 Buregeya, Alfred 28 Burnaby, Barbara 122 Busane, Masidake 204 Butler, Judith 54 Calvet, Louis-Jean 265 Canagarajah, Suresh A. 7 Carman, John 178–179 Carper, Gray 216 Carr, Helen 284 Chem-Langhee, Bongfen 243 Chen, Katherine 216 Chia, Ngam 87 Cole, Desmond T. 52–53 Coupland, Nikolas 84 Crystal, David 120, 122 Das Gupta, Jyotindra 113 DeGraf, Michel 6, 265–268 Dennis, Thomas J. 205 Deumert, Ana 30 Dietrich, Anette 269 Dingwall, Robert 146 Djité, Paulin G. 100 Domingues, Nuno 304, 310 Drew, Paul 144 Dzelambong, Terrence Y. 242, 244– 245, 247, 251

362

Author index

Echeruo, Michael J. C. 206, 208–209 Eemeren, van Frans H. 57 Ehret, Christopher 120 Ellece, Sibonile E. 72 Evans, Vyvyan 186, 188 Evora-Sagna, Margarida 302 Eyoh, Dickson 87 Ézè, Éjike 207, 326, 328 Fabian, Johannes 265, Fabricius, Johann Philipp 171, 175–177 Fairclough, Norman 51, 54, 74 Fanon, Frantz 278 Fanshel, David 146 Fanso, Verkijika G. 243 Faraclas, Nicholas 326 Farquharson, Joseph T. 7 Fauconnier, Gilles 286 Feldbæk, Ole 275 Ferreira, Manuel 110 Fincati, Veronica 328–329 Finnegan, Ruth 120 Fishman, Joshua A. 80, 100, 233–234, 276 Fontaine, La J. S. 123 Fonyuy, Ernesta K. 242 Foster, Peter G. 101 Fowler, Roger 51 Fox, Richard G. 113 Frehner, Carmen 30, 45 French, Robert 300–301 Frost, Pernille J. 291 García, Ofelia 7 Gar¿nkel, Harold 234 Gass, Susan 37 Geertz, Clifford 100 Giacomi, Alain 325 Gibbons, John 217, 232, 235–236 Giles, Howard 84 Githinji, Peter 39 Githiora, Chege 31, 39 Gnerre Maurizio 335

Goffman, Erving 143–144, 157 Goglia, Francesco 329, 333–335, 339 Golovko, Evgeniy V. 26 Gordon, Raymond G. Jr. 120 Goyvaerts, Didier L. 101 Greatbatch, David 144, 146 Grebe, Karl 252 Green, Melanie 186, 188 Greenberg, Joseph 81 Grootendorst, Rob 57 Grosjean, François 216 Guerini, Federica 325 Gumperz, John J. 217, 234 Guthrie, Steward 184 Gutkind, Peter C. W. 130 Hair, Paul E. H. 204 Hall, Stuart 265 Halliday, Michael A. K. 51 Hannah, Jean 28 Harras, Gisela 288 Harrow, Kenneth 350 Hartmann, Reinhard R. K. 210 Hausmann, Franz Josef 278, 279 Heine, Bernd 99–100 Helgesson, Alf 104 Heritage, John 144 Hermanns, Fritz 282, 290 Herrick, Allison Bulter 122, 124–125, 131–132 Herriman, Michael 122 Higgins, Christina 7 Hillewaert, Sarah 31, 38, 45 Hinrichs, Lars 5 Hjorth, Poul Lindegård 269 Hodge, Robert 51 Honna, Nobuyuki 216 Honwana, Raúl Bernardo 105–106 Hooks, Bell 284 Hornscheidt, Antje Lann 268–269, 288 Horowitz, Donald L. 113 Hoxcer Jensen, Peter 275 Hudson, Harry Laity 124 Hulme, Peter 291

Author index

Hulstijn, Jan H. 210 Hymes, Dell 217 Ibriszimow, Dymitr 189 Igboanusi, Herbert 324 Igwe, Egemba G. 206, 208–209 Irvine, Judith 265 Ishola, S. Ademola 187 Janney, Richard W. 19, 81, 350 Johnson, Mark 186, 197 Jua, Nantang 82, 86–87 Juan, Edurne de 314–315 Junod, Henry P. 111 Justesen, Ole 275 Kachru, Braj B. 6, 25, 102 Kagaba, Peter 129 Kang’ethe-Iraki, Frederick 31–33 Kanyoro, Musimbi R. A. 28–29 Karpova, Olga 277 Kasozi, Anthony B. K. 119, 122–123, 125 Kembo-Sure 26–28, 38, 45 Kioko, Angelina N. 45 Kiwanuka, Ssemakula 122 Klein, Thomas B. 37 Koelle, Sigismund W. 205 Konings, Piet 82, 86–87 Kouega, Jean-Paul 9, 242 Krashen, Stephen D. 37 Krefeld, Thomas 303 Kubota, Ryuko 241 Labov, William 146 Ladefoged, Peter 120, 122, 128 Lai, Chun 37 Laidlaw, James 184 Lakoff, George 186, 197 Lal, Brij V. 30 Lang, Jürgen 300 Langlands, B. W. 121–122 Lara, Luis Fernando 275 Lawson, Thomas E. 184

363

LePage, Robert B. 79–80, 91, 311 Lewis, M. Paul 52–53 Li, David C. S. 215–217, 219, 228, 230, 235–237 Li, Wie 215 Lim, Lisa 11, 91 Livingstone, Sonia 217 Loomba, Ania 278, 283–284, 286, 290–291 Low, Anthony D. 123 Lugira, Aloysius M. 121 Lunt, Peter 217 Mair, Christian 17 Makoni, Sinfree 14, 81 Malkiel, Yakov 291 Manfredi, Victor 207 Manik, Svetlana 277 Martin, Luther H. 184 Martins, Humberto Miguel 318–319 Märzhäuser, Christina 299, 309, 317 Masanga, W. David 242 Masinyana, Sibabalwe Oscar 30 Mazrui, Alamin M. 27, 31, 132 Mazrui, Ali 27, 100,132 Mbai, V. N. 77 Mbangwana, Paul N. 242 Mbassi-Manga, Francis 242 Mbowa, Rose 131 McArthur, Tom 29, 241 McCauley, Robert N. 184 McClintock, Annie 278 Meeuwis, Michael 324–325 Meierkord, Christiane 9, 34 Meinhof, Ulrike H. 14, 81 Mendo Ze, Gervais 79 Meyer, Birgit 187 Mforteh, Stephen A. 89, 93, 147, 157, 350 Michieka, Martha M. 27–28, 36 Migge, Bettina 19, 350 Mithen, Steven 184 Mokomane, Zitha S. 56 Molokomme, Athalia 52–53, 71–72

364

Author index

Mpoche, Kizitus 350 Mufwene, Salikoko S. 6, 26, 33–34, 81, 268 Mühleisen, Susanne 5–6, 15, 17, 19, 266, 268, 350 Mukama, Ruth G. 119, 122, 128 Mulo Farenkia, Bernard 9, 350 Munger, Edwin S. 130–131 Muthwii, Margaret J. 45 Muysken, Pieter 26 Myers-Scotton, Carol 100, 215, 235, 324, 338, Narayanan, Vasudha 178–179 Nduka-Agwu, Adibeli 268–269, 288 Ndzenyuy, Vernyuy Francis 242, 244–245, 253 Newitt, Malyn 103–104, 106, 108 Nganda, Cecilia Namulondo 121, 123, 126 Ngefac, Aloysius 242 Ngome, Victor E. 86 Niwampa, Mbaga 122 Nnaji, Henry I. 206, 208–209 Nortier, Jacomine 325 Nsibambi, Apolo 122 Nyamnjoh, Francis B. 82, 85–86 Nzita, Richard 122 Nzunga, Michael P. Kipande 39 Ӑgbalө, Frederick C. 206 Ogechi, Nathan Oyori 31, 39 Ogungbile, David 197 Okafor, Edwin E. 205 Omoniyi, Tope 85 Omoyajowo, Akinyele J. 187 Onuigbo, Gregory Nwoye 327–329 Oraka, Louis N. 206 Osinde, Ken 31–32, 39 Osterhammel, Jürgen 278 Otlogetswe, Thapelo J. 52–54 Oyetade, S. Oluwole 324 Pavlenko, Aneta 143–145 Peel, J.D.Y. 185, 187

Pei, Mario 120 Pennington, Martha 217, 236 Pennycook, Alastair 7 Penvenne, Jeanne 103, 107 Pereira, Dulce 309, 312, 317 Perl, Matthias 301 Phillipson, Robert 236, 265 Piotrowski, Tadeusz 201 Poplack, Shana 338 Pyysiäinen, Ilkka 184 Rampton, Ben 313 Raposo, Otávio 304 Reisigl, Martin 51, 57–59 Richards, Audrey 122–124 Ripfel, Martha 210 Römer, Ruth 266, 268 Rosário, Lourenço 110 Roscoe, John 130 Ross, Jeffrey A. 84 Rottler, Johann Peter 171 Rwagacuzi, Faustin 126 Sacks, Harvey 146 Saïd, Edward 265, 278 Schegloff, Emanuel A. 146 Schmid, Hans-Jörg 188–189 Schmidt, Richard W. 37 Schmied, Josef 28–30, 35, 43–45, 102 Schneider, Edgar W. 6, 241 Schön, James F. 205 Scott, Robert 122–123, 126 Sebba, Mark 325 Selinker, Larry 37, 243, 256, Shamdasani, Prem N. 217 Shitemi, Naomi L. 31 Simo Bobda, Augustin 9, 79, 242, 255 Skandera, Paul 28, 36 Skutnabb-Kangas, Tove 236 Slobin, Dan I. 37 Sobotta, Elissa 301 Sorjonen, Marja-Leena 144 Southall, A. William 130 Spurr, David 269

Author index

Ssempagala, Mpagi 130 Ssempuuma, Jude 11, 126–127 Ssozi, A. D. 125 Stefan Göttel 269 Stewart, David W. 217 Stoffel, Henriette 325 Sunderland, Jane 54, 58 Swigart, Leigh 324 Tabouret-Keller, Andrée 79–80, 91, 157, 377 Talmy, Leonard 186 Tamfuh, M. Willy 242 Taylor, Charles 113 Ten Have, Paul 234 Tengan, Alexis B. 102 Thangaraj, M. Thomas 173 Thomas, H. B. 122–123, 126 Thomas, Northcote W. 205 Thomason, Sarah G. 26, 37 Thurlow, Cripin 30, 45 Tidy, Michael 100 Tirrell, Lynne 292 Trevidi, Harish 15 Trudgill, Peter 28 Tse, Elly C. Y. 216–219, 221, 226, 228, 230, 235–236 Uchechukwu, Chinedu 201–202 Ugochukwu, Françoise 327, 338 Ukah, Asonzeh 187–188, 197 Ungerer, Friedrich 188

Vail, Leroy 101 van Leeuwen, Teun 51 Véronique, Daniel 325 Viswanathan, Gauri 178 wa Thiong’o, Ngugi 114 Walusimb, Livingstone 125, 131 Wardhaugh, Ronald 102 Webb, Vic 26–28, 45 Weinreich, Uriel 317 Weizman, Elda 146 Welmers, Beatrice F. 207–209 Welmers, Williams E. 207–209 Whitehouse, Harvey 184–185 Widdicombe, Sue 145 Wiegand, Herbert E. 208, 210, 276 Wiemann, Dirk 10 Williamson, Kay 205, 207–209 Winslow, Miron 171, Wodak, Ruth 51, 53–54, 57–59 Wolf, Hans-Georg 8, 82 Wootton, Tony 325 Yusimbom, M. Z.

242, 244

Zabus, Chantal 267 Zappa, Carlo 205 Zgusta, Ladislav 275–276, 292 Zhao, Yong 37 Zuengler, Jane E. 27 Zulyadaini, Balarabe 189

365