This week, Thiong’s article is definitely the one that “got me”. As I started to read, I expected him to try to define post-colonialism without necessarily reaching a clear definition. The other articles talked about post-colonialism, always referring to territories that are no longer under official domination. Here, Thiong talked about any territories that have been subjected to colonialism, whether they are still a colony or not. I was pleased to see his concerns about language and education in relation to (post-) colonialism. As I kept reading, I started to recognize so many of the facts he was mentioning. It all suddenly sounded so familiar. Should we use both the colonizer’s language and the local language? Should we give priority to the local language in these times of globalisation? How to combine both and can it be done? And what about culture? Literature? So many questions I have been asking myself for the past few years.
First, I think there may be certain things that are right when he talked about the three aspects of language as communication. He mentioned that these aspects are “broken” in colonial territories which lead to colonial alienation. That confusion of the child who experiences the world through his native language before having that conception of life in a given language shattered by a conception of life imposed through a different language is, unfortunately, so familiar. As I was reading that section of his article, I was thinking about my childhood. My first language was Creole. I spoke it at home, in the streets, with my friends, with my family, etc. The only times I would hear some French, would be on tv, sometimes on the radio (songs for example) or I would see it in books or on administrative documents. I was aware of the presence of the French language and understood it, but it was a “far-away” language, something that existed but to which I did not necessarily relate. When I started school at 3 years old, the teachers were communicating in Creole with us. Back in my days, Creole would be the language used in class until you turn 8-9years old. Then, Creole and French were used in the classroom before switching to French only. It was a weird experience as I felt like a message was sent to the students that Creole should remain in the streets and French would be the language of the “educated”. I remember the times when the transition was happening for me. I used to go to the library once a week, and one week, I saw a contest where the participants were supposed to write a poem about the “Creole essence”. I did not really know at the time what that meant for I was only 8 or 9 years old, so I asked my dad. He explained to me that “Creole essence” would refer to something that “screams” Creole to me. It took me a few weeks and I found it. Not that I could not think of anything, but I was having a hard time choosing amongst different things. As soon as I picked THE one for me, I started to write my little poem. I was so pleased with myself when I posted it and waited for the postman every day. One day, a letter finally arrived, inviting me to a picnic where the results will be announced. I was able to convince my family, and we all went to the long-awaited picnic. After spending the whole day by the sea, the organizers were finally announcing the results. I was so excited!! Finally, the results! My joy turned, very quickly, into a failure to understand. I was so confused. I was not mad, I just wanted to cry. So confused. The winner wrote a poem in French. The poem was read out loud and was so vague, so general, that unless we did not know that it was a contest organized in Reunion Island, we would have no idea it was about the island. It could have been applied to any places. It was written in such a perfect French too. I sat there and listened and did not understand. My dad told me that “Creole essence” meant something that screamed Creole to me, so I wrote a poem in Creole about a culinary experience that is purely local. For me, something that “screams” Creole could only be written in creole. The organizers asked all the participants to come grab some prizes. Against my will, I went to grab mine when they asked me what I wrote about. When I told them, they smiled at me saying something like “Oh that was you!! That was so funny!! You did a great job!” I looked at them and said “Yeah but I did not win, I was not even second or third” and they answered “You should have known better! You wrote in Creole!” I did not understand then, until they told me that I was fourth. The first three winners all wrote in French. Shall I tell you what was the prize? The “Little Prince” by Antoine de St Exupery written in Creole! I never wrote anything again after that. Later, my years at lycée were years of rebellion against the supremacy of the French language but mostly the French culture imposed in class. I automatically thought of that experience when I read Thiong: « [...] the harmony existing between the three aspects of language as communication was broken. This resulted in the dissociation of sensibility of that child from his natural and social environment, what we might call colonial alienation. [...] Since culture is a product of the history of a people which it in turn reflects, the child was now being exposed exclusively to a culture that was a product of a world external to himself. He was being made to stand outside himself to look at himself.” (p. 1135) It is interesting to see that, today, there is an on-going debate to make French a second language acquisition in Reunion Island. The debate remains an openly passionate one as many contest the possibility for a still-colonial territory to operate a switch between the current official language (French) and the current main language (Creole).
