Because They're Burning Bricks

Posted By Sika on August 31, 2007

Chichewa word of the day (or whatever): Iwe: You, informally. In Chichewa, like in Spanish and French, there are two forms of “you,” both informal and formal (unlike Spanish and French, in Chichewa all of the plural conjugations of verbs are also the formal conjugations. So, you conjugate for “they” the same way you conjugate for a respectful he/she. I imagine, however, that only people really full of themselves would use the we form to show greater respect when talking about themselves singularly.) Iwe is the informal word for you. Unlike in most Spanish-speaking countries, though, iwe and the informal you form of verbs is used nearly exclusively for small children and animals. You can say “iwe, choka!” which means “you, go away!” Usually it is said to a child or an animal. When used that way it is a quite strong command, usually only used when more polite methods have failed. However, if said to an adult it is quite rude and means “Fuck off,” more or less.   

I’ve been thinking about the cadence changes in my speech that have developed since I got here. When we arrived, I noticed that there was something strange about the way that volunteers who had been here for a while speak. But I couldn’t quite put my finger on what that was. At one point the trainers explained to us that the volunteers were speaking more slowly, which was really useful for their ability to understand American. But I noticed that while the speech was slower and clearer, that wasn’t the only difference. There was a cadence to the speech, a rhythm completely foreign to my ears; accents on different parts of sentences, on different words—even now I am not sure how to explain it. I despaired of ever mastering this way of speaking. I normally speak as if the spoken word will be outlawed in 15 seconds, and even just slowing down seemed a nearly impossible task. Changing my rhythm and intonations, especially when I wasn’t sure what those changes were, was just a ridiculous proposition.

So, I gave up before I started. Decided that completely changing my speech was unnecessary as well as unreasonable. And then, sometime while I was in South Africa, I noticed that my speech was slowing, the cadence was changing, I lost my contractions. My voice began to sound foreign to myself. Every time I spoke too quickly to an African for whom English was a second language and was therefore misunderstood, the changes became more pronounced. It’s a little like a new accent, only . . . not. And when I speak to Americans, it disappears, and I’m back to my normal, rapid-fire self.

Categories: Malawi
Tags: language