Showing posts with label Language. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Language. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

"Close your dog."

"Close your dog."

"Pardon?"

"I said, close your dog."

I, with the practiced calm of continuous confusion, look around for a dog.  I don't own a dog, but maybe there is one about I could… close.  Alas, can't even find a cat.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Your pants."

Well, there you have it, my zipper is wide open.  I close it up and thank the nice old man.  Later I will find that he was actually telling me to "close my chain".  That would be the slag here for zipper (chain and dog sound remarkably similar in French).  I'm not sure if that would have really helped, but I looked up the actual French word for zipper and it turns out to be "fermeture à glissière".  That basically means "sliding closure" and would have left me equally baffled.

Saturday, September 14, 2013

Good morning. How are you? Fine, thank you.

Cameroon is a bilingual country.  Supposedly.  Rumor is Paul Biya (the president since forever) added that Cameroonians, themselves, are not bilingual when asked about his own lack of English.  They teach some English pretty much everywhere, though it seems to never get beyond the introductive stuff.  I probably shouldn't talk much since I technically have a degree saying I speak Italian and the only thing left of that is a large amount of profanity.  All the same, I have only ever seem to have one conversation in English:



"Good morning."



"How are you?"



"Fine, thank you."



You cannot deviate from the script.  If I just say "morning", I've broken the rule and get to watch poor children's minds snap.  That probably says more about their lack of creativity than poor English skills, but it is painful.  (As to creativity, hand any kid crayons and tell them "Draw whatever you want!" and they will give you the Cameroonian flag.  It's patriotism bordering on fascism.) 



The Cameroonians that do speak English, speak what we might call Special English.  It is sort of a lowest common denominator version.  It is probably more about speaking slowly and clearly, but I hate it and can't bring myself to use it.  It is to the point that I'll switch to French even in an Anglophone area (that's right, I make people deal with my bad French rather than deal with their bad English; I'm a dick).  Occasionally Peace Corps Volunteers will drop into this Special English out of habit and I'm forced to hold back smacking them.  Honestly it sounds like how you'd speak to a child.  Or someone you are patronizing, hence the desire to smack.



I bring all this up because I ran into the weirdest guy today.  In the same way that I ignore people calling me "Le Blanc" or "Nasaara", I sort of just respond with the "How are you?" or "Goodmorning" and keep walking to the English routine (if you don't say my name, I don't stop).  This guy gave me a "What's up?" and a "Cool."  I can't recall hearing that even in English-speaking areas; in Mbakaou it was world-shattering.  He spoke English as if he had been to America.  Not even that silly Brit version of the language you occasionally run into!  Apparently he learned in Nigeria "from the streets".  I'm not super convinced he understood all of my own English, but I was still impressed.  The only weird part was that he sounded like he was a decade or two behind.  I felt like I was watching some film from my childhood.  Kept thinking of Marty McFly.  Still, even watching Cameroonian news in English isn't as easy as talking to my new friend, Marty.  It was heavy.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Mon français


Bienvenue à le première post qui est complètement en français!  Vraiment je pense que ça sera le dernière post comme ça aussi, mais qui sais ?  J’ai pensé que ça serais une bonne idée d’essayer à écrire en français ; je ne pratique jamais en fait.   

D’abord, un grand « désolé » est en ordre, parce que mon français est un peu différent de tout le type qui existe déjà.  Mon français vient du français camerounais, mais c’est un français qui change beaucoup de place à place.  Et j’ai déjà habité partout.  Il y a une différence en générale comment on parle ici.  Par exemple, on peut dire « on va faire comment ? », mais en France on dit « qu’est-ce que on va faire ? ».  Un exemple semple, mais évident.  Aussi évident, quand je parle le français, je traduis vraiment d’anglais.  Donc ma grammaire est merde et mes phrases sont… aussi merde pour manque de un mot meilleure.  Ça, c’est un exemple.  Je n’ai pas une idée si un française dirais « manque de un mot meilleure » ou « je n’ai pas une idée » pour la question.  Il y a aussi le problème d’italien qui dérange mon accent.  En finale, je parle le français comme un américain qui a appris la langue au Cameroun et parle avec un accent italien inexplicable.   
Oh, le grande tour de français est à parler comme bâtard pompeux ; toutes les grandes paroles en anglais viennent de français.


Donnez un « merci » à spellcheck ou vous ne pouvez pas lire ceci.

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Tony's Linguistic Lesson

The Boss, Tony, posted an interesting link about language the other day.  It was really about defining someone's age and it was something that hadn't crossed my mind.  You should check it out.  I'll wait.

Also, he's just a really good writer and makes a hilarious joke about "et cetera":
http://tonythev.tumblr.com/post/33042231075/linguistics-lessons

It struck me, because it is the same in French.  You "have" an age or number of years as opposed to "being" a certain age.  I am twenty-six (for at least a couple more weeks), but really I'm about to complete my twenty-seventh year.  I knocked off and have been toting around more than twenty-six years with every passing day of the last year.  The Italians do it the same way.  I kinda like that system.  I'll be saying "I have twenty-seven years" when I get back.  Well, by then I'll have finished twenty-eight of them...

In Fulfulde, in case you were wondering, they say "age how many?" and you respond "twenty-six".  Actually, they say "twenty five one".  Assuming you're as old as me of course.  No time for verbs here.