The more I grasp and practice my mother tongue, the more I am drawn to my linguistic and cultural heritage.
It is through my mother tongue that I get to learn about some of the fundamental morals, values and traditions that I use to define my stance and how I relate to other human beings. This means that language is more than just a way of communicating; it is a way of life and a huge part of one’s identity.
I was raised by parents who made it a point to only speak Oshiwambo to me. Today, this is something I am deeply grateful for. Living in a multi-cultural and diverse urban space, I find that I have to continuously negotiate how I use language(s) in my daily life. Part of this is that I make it a point to speak my mother tongue as much as I possible. This is tough one, I must admit.
We know very well that English is our official language. Together with Afrikaans, English is one of the most widely spoken languages in most formal and public urban spaces. For people coming from different rural parts of the country, these two languages are often the first point of connection with one another. I am not sure how much of this has to do with the fact that these are languages that we ‘superiorised’, hence their dominance over our native languages.
It is a sad reality when two Bantu-speaking people who have different mother tongues cannot have a conversation with one another in their own mother tongues. Our education system and urban societies continue to fail in encouraging and promoting indigenous languages. This explains why many young people and even some parents underestimate the value of indigenous languages. This is also why we have global days such as ‘International Mother Tongue Day’ which I think are western and global dictations of when it is appropriate to speak our home languages. But why can’t every day be Mother Tongue Day?
But then again, what is a mother tongue? Does everyone have a mother tongue? Is one born with a mother tongue or is it something one picks up along the way? These are just some of the basic yet crucial questions we could ask while engaging with mother tongue politics.
I agree with Ndumba Kamwanyah’s writing on English killing Namibia’s native languages. The next Minister of Education will be confronted with this fragmented language situation and will be expected to think and be smart in terms of how he/she will navigate around this crisis. It is in fact time to decolonise our thinking and behaviour around language and culture.
I have my own issues with English which also come a long way. Frankly speaking, I get bored and annoyed by snobs who go around social media and other spaces correcting what they call broken English in order to protect the Queen’s English. Why should we be forced to speak the Queen’s English, though? What is correct English anyway?
Why don’t we rather develop Namlish to the next level and possibly even make it part of our culture(s)? Look at how the Nigerians flaunt their Pidgin English, why can’t we? Take ownership of your language. If you’re proud and passionate about your mother tongue, embody it.
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