A Tale of Two Illiterates

Something odd happened to me recently. I had a discussion with a man, whom I courteously refer to as egbon (Yoruba word for elder brother). You see, egbon is a smart and jovial man in his mid-thirties. But regrettably, he has no formal education. Hence, he is unable to speak, read and write the English language. However, he is very keen on being an English literate, so he enrolled himself in an Adult Education programme. During the course of our discussion (which was in Yoruba) about his challenges with English, he asked me an unexpected question.

“Femi, can read and write Yoruba”

 The question struck me like a wildly swung left hook to the jaw. Then I remembered how, not too long ago, I had attempted to read for myself a shocking story which my mom had narrated to me from the pages of Alaroye (a Yoruba newspaper). The paper had carried the gruesome news story of a female lawyer that murdered her husband in cold blood in Ibadan. I picked up the paper and after reading a few lines like a retard, I dropped it in frustration. So I fessed up to egbon that; I can speak Yoruba (a limited and diluted Lagos version) but I cannot read or write it (not without making a fool of myself).

  

Later that night, I recalled how as a kid, other kids used to taunt and make funny remarks at my Yoruba faux pas. Then I came to the conclusion that –despite my university education, I as much an illiterate as egbon. He cannot read or write English. I cannot read or write Yoruba.

Now, the sad thing is that; I am not the only “ethnic language illiterate”. There is a steady increase in the population of young adults and kids that cannot proficiently express themselves in their tribal tongue. This is due to a number of varying factors, some of which include: firstly, the failure on the part of the parents to speak and teach their children their tribal language. It is rather odd, that some parents from the same tribe, would speak to each other in their native dialect but would choose to speak only English to their children.

Secondly, we seem to be unworried by the dearth of interest in our culture (of which language is its conduit) in our society. The proverbial grass seen to be greener on the other side. In a bid to acquire exotic and Western lifestyle, we unwittingly, tag our made-in-Nigeria products, as well as, our language and consequently our culture as “inferior”. Cultural values, ennobled and inculcated by the vastness and richness of our tradition, art, music, literature and language have been relegated to mere festivals.

Moreover, one would think that there is a conspiracy to kill our local language. In certain schools, children are frowned upon or fined for speaking “vernacular” – the euphemism by which our local languages are termed. When, all things being equal, any randomly picked Nigerian child ought to be bilingual in English and the language of his tribe.

Our language – be it Efik, Ibo, Hausa, Yoruba or any of the other over 250 tongues spoken in Nigeria – is the voice and bedrock of our culture. Inability to understand a language is inability to grasp the richness and beauty of the culture and people it represents.