The Bent Mother Tongue

The inseparability of the tongue and writing always seems evident to me; maybe its my habit of talking to myself as I write, sounding out the words and syllables, arguing which words fit best and sometimes whether that word exists at all.

Where I fall short with writing, I know my tongue will never fail me. I have always been a confident speaker, probably because I was raised with English as my…

(I absolutely hate to admit it)

Mother Tongue.

My mother was raised in Pietermaritzburg in an ‘Indian Area’. Her generation was the first to be given the opportunity to not know their Indian dialects. Their parents took it eagerly, trading the language for a more professional English accent and a better chance at future opportunities.

My mother, although also being raised with English, peppered our vocabulary with pieces of the Tamil, Zulu and Afrikaans she knows. I retained every song, every prayer and most importantly every swear word.

My father’s Mother Tongue, growing up in Cape Town, was Afrikaans. But by finishing high school in Durban and studying in Johannesburg, English became his dominant language. Despite this all scolding from my dad was in Afrikaans. I was 3 years old when I knew exactly what “Jy is in GROOT MOIELIKHEID! “ meant.

Is it strange that I admire the words my tongue finds when no one is watching? I am highly influenced by the words the people around me use. Perhaps to fill the gaps my own accent lacks.

With the approach: I find new people, I find new words – South Africa becomes a complex taste, with layers of flavour my tongue savours

From my roommates in first year, from Mitchells Plain, I learnt to “lus” and “brrrrei”. From the “boets” of Joburg I learnt “Awe”, that’s “nxa”, and “Jaa bru”. From my roommates this year, isiPedi and tshiVenda-speaking, I learnt that “mjolo” can give me 0% and I know exactly what it feels when “sbwl” to be the best writer I can be.

English is the medium through which I think and express myself. Although a blessing, it is also a curse in disguise. Starting with English, automatically makes learning languages harder – I have never resented any fact more.

While I can retain vocabulary, my palate has not developed to produce many sounds and I have not been exposed to gendered languages, tonal languages and many more. But, in most adamant defiance, the one thing I will never feel shame for is the way my country, my relationships, my history and my tongue bends my English.

I learnt a Brazillian word, “saudade”, which can convey the love and affection with which you miss someone. It reminds me of what “ubuntu” means as a South African writer and what it means for my tongue: it means my tongue and the words I write are very much a product of a type of unity and diversity no English can describe…