For me, a typical first conversation with a foreigner soon finds itself heading down the rabbit hole of origins. My accent is clearly not Baltimorean, they immediately notice. And from there, it's usually all downhill.
"Where are you from?" is the inevitable question.
"Oh I'm from Dominica," I reply.
I can almost count to three before they follow with (one...two...th--) "The Dominican Republic?"(Almost.)
"No, it's a different island..." I clarify, wishing I could shout 'If I had meant the Republic, I would have said so!'
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| Like how this gem from avirtualDOMINICA.com said it. |
"Ohhhh......" (cue awkward silence) "So what language do you guys speak over there?"
Listen, that's the least offensive question someone could ask. But it still irks me. Do people still equate the Caribbean with solely steel pans, coconut rum, and exotic gibberish chanted at late-night beach parties? Or am I overly sensitive?
"English," I respond, and I can tell my tone is harsher than I intended.
Their curiosity usually ends there, after a split-second look of disbelief.
One of these days, I'm going to drop some Kwéyòl on them or mutter something about how nice it is to wear clothes besides loincloths.
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| This is us, apparently. |
Is it even fair to say that English is our language of choice, though? We can hardly make it through a sentence without a "kamem", a "oui", or an "ebeh weh". And we don't say "oh my god" - we say "bondyé" or "papa met". Kwéyòl is in our bones. Its lineage is clear: "Like the other Caribbean Creoles, Dominican French Creole combines syntax of African and Carib origin with a primarily French-derived vocabulary. In addition, many expressions reflect the presence of an English Creole[,] and Spanish influences are also present in the language." (Wikipedia) Our form of Antillean Creole is just one of those aspects of our culture that both unifies us with the rest of the West Indies and sets us apart in this global society.
Language is, after all, the primary means of communication for most, and this fact transcends species. For us, it is a cornerstone of effective formal education, an unparalleled necessity in the world of work, and the basis of the best forms of entertainment. Even in its simplest expressions, language functions to convey information, evoke strong emotions, give instructions, etc. We would be insane to belittle the power of language...
...which brings up a local phenomenon that must be bemoaned: public radio. The misuse of language on Dominican radio broadcasts may not be majoritarian but it does occur often enough to warrant improvement. Do we even notice that numerous sponsors cannot "presents" an event? That "all is invited" does not hold when "all" refers to people? That "it has" is not a correct substitute for "there is/are"? We should notice, because our frequencies are transmitted and received internationally, and it is not in our interest for listeners to conclude that we're incapable of grasping basic grammatical concepts. In fact, that could be part of what feeds into the stereotyping that creates the 'origins dialogue' above. Listen, embracing the unique aspects of our vernacular is important, but unwittingly demeaning ourselves and undermining the education that we pay so dearly for, all while allowing our representatives in the media to look like fools, is not acceptable. So let's hold our journalism and dissemination of news to higher standards than are presently stomached.
That issue, by the way, must be kept separate from our efforts to preserve our Creole from extinction. Our dialect complements our music, dancing, cuisine, place names, and other cultural practices. I even wonder how useful it was to our slave ancestors. Reduced to a small population, those slaves surely incorporated their African languages with the Carib, French, and English words to which they were inevitably exposed. In fact,"The intricate process by which a language based on the convergence of other languages undergoes expansion in both use and form is called creolization," says Charles Joyner. (page 5) The first and obvious purpose of slaves "creolizing" the language of their owners would be to preserve what they could of their own heritage (maybe unconsciously); the soulful singing of black people even to this day can be at least partially attributed to the popularity of singing while slaves worked the fields. Secondly, it may have provided a way of covertly communicating amongst themselves - we know that they were stripped of their own cultures, so what may have seemed to the owner like poor attempts to speak his language may actually have been tiny messages, even plans for a revolt. And, of course, third is integration. Generations who lived after slavery ended in Dominica may have found themselves needing to communicate with imperial governors AND to their own people. Creole offers a chance to bridge a barrier to progress, in a sense.
Now, our Kwéyòl has its origins, you see, in a place of strength, beauty, necessity, and pride. Exactly how much do we incorporate it into our modern lives, then? Should we be teaching Kwéyòl in our schools, as former Mayor of Roseau, Cecil Joseph, once championed? Dominican author Trina John-Charles has already published books under her Kwéyòl 4 Kids project, hoping to share the basics of Kwéyòl literacy with the generations of children whose Dominican and St. Lucian parents and grandparents have permanent residences overseas or who simply are not exposed to Kwéyòl in a meaningful way. She recognized the value of Kwéyòl after a family friend criticized her inability to covertly communicate with her via Kwéyòl, as is conjectured above as being vital to our ancestors. This experience, she says, made her realize she was the only UK immigrant within her circle of friends who could not speak her "native tongue". Speaking to CaribDirect for a 2013 focus article, she also noted that "your ability to get a job [in Kwéyòl-speaking countries] is heavily increased if you can speak Kwéyòl fluently".
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| The cover of one book in a series by Trina John-Charles on Antillean Creole. |
John-Charles claimed, in that article, that Kwéyòl is already taught at school in Dominica. It seems that my own high school experience therefore ended too early, and I am ashamed to share some of her aforementioned lack of fluency. Not to make excuses but English is perceived as such a universal language that emphasis is (rightly) placed on mastering that before and/or above a dialect inherent to only a few small islands in one small region of the world. That in itself could be the result of American and European influence on our lives or simply the need to exchange goods and services with a broader consumer market (and if that's the case, it's no wonder Chinese is now part of the Dominican curriculum at many schools as well). Still, we ought to show some SELF-LOVE and appreciate those beautiful peculiarities of 'Dominicanness' and not lose our unique flavour, so to speak, while interacting with the rest of the world.
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| I had to. #sorrynotsorry |
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