Ndithetha kancinci kuba ndingumlungu Stewart S...
Being
English and Afrikaans in the Western Cape, communicating in my home language is
no big deal. Without exception, if I interact with someone whose first language
is isiXhosa, the conversation takes place in either of my first languages. Just
because I’m white, it’s presumed that I know absolutely no Xhosa, which is the
second most widely-spoken in the language Western Cape after Afrikaans. I find
that very unfair.
Someone’s
language is an intrinsic part of their identity. Being able to communicate with
someone in their mother tongue is a skill which gives one unrivalled rewards:
apart from personal benefits like furthering one’s career, simply making an
effort to learn more about other people’s cultures and languages is deeply
appreciated, especially in the context of our segregated history. This reason, along
with a multitude of others, makes taking isiXhosa an absolute no-brainer, in my
opinion.
For
those less concerned about communication for the sake of communication, the
practical reasons for taking isiXhosa are just as compelling. If you speak to
anyone worth asking about education in South Africa, or just about living here
(Blade Nzimande - Minister of Higher Education, Nelson Mandela or Trevor Manuel,
to name a few), they’ll tell you that before you go and study Astrophysics or
Neurology at UCT, learn some Zulu or Xhosa. It looks good on your CV; certain
University courses, such as Medicine, require it; it gives one a base from
which to learn other Nguni languages and it’s a massive advantage in the
business world, where you’re constantly interacting with people from a huge
variety of backgrounds. Building strong relationships with people in your
environment will always be to your advantage, not only within a business
context, but in a social context as well.
For
most Westerfordian Xhosa students, learning an African language goes further
than that. To us, it’s a way to show that we’re committed to reconciliation in
our country by embracing another language, and in the case of isiXhosa, the
very rich culture surrounding that language. It’s a gesture which aims to forge
connections between us and people we wouldn’t usually interact with.
I
was utterly convinced that I had made the right decision once I’d been on the
Transkei hike. I witnessed my motivations for taking Xhosa becoming reality in
front of my eyes. After the first fifty awkward “Molo! Unjani?”s, my conversations with people started gaining
substance. As my conversation partners realised that I had knowledge beyond “Molo”, their entire demeanours changed.
The standard response I encountered was: “ Umlungu!
Yuh, uyasazi isiXhosa?” (Whitey! Yoh, you know Xhosa?), followed by very
enthusiastic small talk, drastically zekeleled
(slowed down to umlungu-level), and the exchanging of details, ended off with
extremely appreciative thanks for taking the time to find out more about them
and to learn their language.
Xolisanani
is one of the people we met. He told Jeremy and me that we had made his day; that
to find people who were learning his language by choice was an inspiration, and
that he wished there were more people like us. To me, that is what learning isiXhosa
is about.
At
Westerford, we’ve got some of the best isiXhosa teachers in the country. Let’s
face it – Mnu. Dugmore uyintshatsheli
(is a champion). There is undoubtedly no better place to learn the language. So
what’s your excuse? Why are there only 13 people in my grade that feel the same
way I do? Why are there 11 in matric and 15 in Grade 10? Next year’s Grade 10s
couldn’t even manage double figures. What is making most Westerfordians ignore
the amazing opportunity afforded to us here to enrich ourselves as South
Africans?
There
isn’t enough emphasis on indigenous languages by our generation. We have this
strange misconception that we will either all emigrate to the land of milk and
honey or that there is simply no need to learn an African language, or even
Afrikaans, because English is the lingua franca. We expect other people to
learn our language, but don’t even consider doing the same for our future colleagues
and clients who don’t speak English as a first language. That’s the majority of
the country, by the way.
Apart
from being selfish, these convictions are pretty naïve. I’ve heard the argument
that Xhosa isn’t a ‘universal’ language, and so it is therefore pretty much
useless to learn as opposed to, say, French. To that, I say “your argument is
invalid.” Realistically, you will most probably live and work here later in
life, and should therefore concentrate on what you can do to make ‘here’ a
better place to be. Well, unless you find your fairytale French bride or groom
and run off to Paris, or if you’re one of those refugee-status-seeking ninnies
who run to Perth escaping the ‘dystopia’ of South Africa. I sincerely hope you
aren’t, though, because I don’t think we’d be able to be friends.
This
is not to say that learning a European language is a bad thing, or that if you
don’t study an African language, you’re a traitor to your country. What it is
doing is making you aware of the importance of learning one, and how rewarding
it can be, especially at Westerford. There needs to be a shift in mindset, and
a greater sense of responsibility to the future of our country by us, the
upcoming generation of voters and economy-drivers.
Grade
9s, if you ever find yourself looking for that last option on your subject
choice form, or if you’re just unsure about isiXhosa, take the plunge. For the
rest of you, use Inspector Simon Eybers as inspiration. Apart from taking down
Public Enemy Number One, The Nose, this man of steel decided halfway through
term 1 of grade 10 that Xhosa was more to his liking than Accounting, and made
the swap.
Simon
says, “Go for it.” So do.
