Guardian Nigeria
Recently, a lawyer friend in Lagos went to enroll his daughter in a primary school in Lagos. During the enrollment process, he learned from the vice-headmistress that speaking in vernacular languages was forbidden in the school. The pupils could learn to speak other foreign languages; they could mumble some French or German words, but they were flatly barred from speaking their native languages or mother tongues.
Outraged, or better put, scandalised by the strange school rule, my friend immediately discontinued the enrollment and proceeded to another school to enroll his daughter. The reason: he wanted his young daughter to be in touch with her Igbo roots.
This incident and others illustrate that vernacular languages are becoming dead languages because they are gradually ceasing to be spoken. If Latin is said to be a dead language, are Nigeria vernacular languages also becoming dead languages? The first set of Nigerians who came in contact with Western education loved their native tongues and anything relating to them.
With high oratorical power, most of them were proficient in both English and vernacular languages. For example, after obtaining the golden fleece from the United States in that early period, Zik remained a brilliant Igbo orator until death came calling. Armed with a certificate from the prestigious Oxford University, the late Ikemba Emeka Odumegwu Ojukwu was still one of the best Igbo speakers I knew before death came calling.
Cicero Bola Ige was distinguished for his eloquence in both the English and Yoruba languages. Chinua Achebe’s renowned novel, Things Fall Apart, highlighted the richness of Igbo tradition and culture. In fact, a reader of Things Fall Apart would think they were reading the book in the Igbo language. Achebe must have been thinking in Igbo when he penned down Things Fall Apart.
Unfortunately, nowadays, vernacular languages are dying or have died. Most parents living in big cities do not communicate with their children in vernacular languages. They proudly communicate with them in English. As far as they are concerned, English is a status language that befits their social standing.
This was not so in the past. In the past, parents insisted that their children spoke their native language first before venturing into learning and speaking English. In the good old days, most important books were constantly written in many Nigerian languages and dialects. I remember the Onitsha Igbo Market literature, a genre of popular Igbo literature, such as Omenuko (1963), Ije Odumodu Jere (1963), and Oguaamalam (1979). Today, there is a scarcity of new books in vernacular languages. Paradoxically, some literary works that had been translated into local languages were translated by foreigners enthused with Nigerian languages.
I think I have come across either a Yoruba or Igbo dictionary authored by a German. I remember seeing a dictionary entitled Dictionary of the Yoruba Language (1858) written by Dr S. W. Koelle, a German missionary. Also, there is an Igbo grammar textbook entitled: Igbotic: A Comprehensive Guide in Igbo Language. This Igbo textbook was written by a team of non-Igbo authors. Samuel Ajayi Crowther, a former slave who later became a bishop, was the first person to translate the Bible into the Igbo language. However, the first complete translation of the Bible into Igbo was done by Thomas John Dennis, an Anglican priest, between 1913 and 1917.
The paradox is that most young Nigerians born and bred in cities such as Lagos shy away from speaking their native tongues. They may be proficient in English, French, German, Spanish, and other foreign languages, but they can hardly utter a word or two of their mother tongue. Gradually, the vernacular language is becoming a language of villagers and never-do-wells.
The native name of a person expresses the essence and identity of the person and the meaning of their life. Through one’s native name, one communicates oneself and makes oneself accessible, capable of being known by others. Additionally, a person’s native name expresses something unique to that person and adequately represents his/her cultural identity.
Most native names also express societal beliefs anchored in the philosophical path of man towards God and the meaning of human existence. Two native names, which easily come to mind are: Madukaku (a person, ontologically, is worth more than wealth) and Ibukun Oluwa (blessing of God). Unfortunately, the native name has stopped being popular. Even the way some people pronounce their surname shows that they are not happy identifying with their ethnic origin.
Ask a typical Igbo child living in Lagos his surname, and he is likely going to Englicize it or “murder” it in such a funny way that completely obliterates the real meaning of the surname. This may be due to sheer ignorance or the deliberate effort to hide one’s ethnic origin to avoid unnecessary tribal hatred, stereotyping, or derogatory name-calling.
However, the greater blame goes to parents. The truth remains that most modern parents discourage their children from speaking their native tongue. They believe that it is a sign of progress or affluence to forbid their children from speaking their native tongue or getting acquainted with the cultural practices of their town. They enroll their kids in Ivy League primary and secondary schools in big cities where the speaking of vernacular languages is prohibited. Every summer, the kids are dispatched to Europe or America to spend the summer. Upon graduation, they send them abroad for their university studies. So, the young boy grows up without any clue about his language, culture, and roots.
Primary and secondary schools are supposed to act as foundations for fostering pride in indigenous language and culture. But most of our schools are not performing this vital function. I attended a secondary school where the speaking of Pidgin English and vernacular languages was strictly outlawed. The punishment for speaking the vernacular language was uprooting a tree in the school orchard. There was this particular Bini boy who could hardly open his mouth without speaking the only language he knew in the world—Edo.
I remember now with great nostalgia that while we were in the classroom studying, this boy squandered most of his study hours uprooting one tree or another in the school orchard as punishment for speaking vernacular. Even though the speaking of the vernacular language is no longer a punishable offense in most Nigerian schools, the fact remains that most students are losing interest in anything pertaining to their language or culture. Igbo, Hausa, and Yoruba have been included in our secondary school curriculum, but most students don’t take the study of these languages seriously.
Therefore, many people are worried. Even the authorities of unity schools are disturbed that many students are uprooted from their culture. To address this, the unity school authorities have organised a back-to-land programme for students, reminiscent of Marcus Garvey’s back-to-land movement. The aim of the programme is to take the students back to their respective ethnic homes to help them get acquainted with their culture and traditions.
A couple of years ago, Chinyere Ohiri-Aniche, an Associate Professor at the University of Lagos, expressed her concern about the vanishing vernacular languages. Worried that their children were becoming alienated from the Igbo language and culture, some members of Aka Ikenga, an Igbo socio-cultural group, recruited Igbo teachers to teach their children living in Lagos the Igbo language.
A few years ago, I visited a young Nigerian couple in Washington D.C. Before I could talk to their children, the man turned to me and said, “English is forbidden in this house. I don’t want my children to become Americans.” The couple communicates with their children in Igbo, they eat traditional Igbo meals, and they only watch Nollywood movies.
To prove how Nigerian the family was in D.C., the man’s wife briskly walked into the kitchen and later came out with akpu and ofe onugbu stacked with okporoko. While I busied myself “demolishing” the delicacy, of course with my “bare hands,” they put on the latest Nigerian movie for me to watch. I remembered my home. Before I left, the man insisted that their first son tell me his Igbo name. While the poor boy stood there racking his brain to remember his Igbo name, I said goodbye to the couple and finally took my leave. The father was disappointed with his son’s inability to remember his Igbo name. I was highly impressed that a Nigerian couple in the diaspora was trying to preserve their cultural identity.
Of course, promoting the vernacular language or native tongue in this age is a gargantuan task. The English language is not just a lingua franca; it is the medium of communication for great social, educational, and political ideas in our multilingual and multicultural society. In our global village, it also serves as the medium for transmitting great universal ideas. Those who want to move ahead with the rest of the world today are primarily interested in reading and writing in English, Spanish, French, Portuguese, German, etc., not vernacular languages.
To begin with, very few Nigerians still think in their vernacular language. More importantly, most of our daily business and transactions are conducted in English. So, there are few opportunities in a day to speak the vernacular language. Even the illiterate village woman grinding pepper along the road prefers to communicate with her customers in English. An unspoken vernacular language is a dead language.
That notwithstanding, the vernacular language must not die. I am always impressed seeing the Hausa security man in front of our office listening to the BBC (Hausa Service) every day with his small transistor radio. That man is a true son of his father. The native language preserves the identity of a people. It is also an eloquent expression of the existential value of a people.
People who do not speak their native language are people without existence. Europe and America are defined by their language and culture. We cannot be copying foreign languages and cultures wholesale and imposing them on our people. We are a different people. In an age plagued by eroding cultural values and vanishing identity, the native language remains the only thing which the new generation can hang on to in rediscovering their roots.
