Bilingualism Week

Monday, January 31st marked the beginning of Bilingualism Week here in Cameroon, which culminated in “La Fete Bilingue” on Friday. Cameroon has two official languages – English and French – and therefore calls itself a bilingual country. However, in reality, over 250 languages are spoken in Cameroon, and while almost all Cameroonians speak several languages, very few are actually “bilingual” in the sense of being fluent in English and French. English is spoken mainly in the Anglophone regions (the Southwest and Northwest, both in the southern half of the country) and French is spoken elsewhere, although (as I discovered upon arrival in village), in the Grand North (Adamawa, North, and Extreme North), many people speak neither French nor English. Cameroonians are very proud of this idea of being bilingual, and many Francophones I've talked to have expressed shame or guilt at their inability to teach English. While it is true that English is a mandatory subject and students must pass exams in English to complete high school, few students leave school feeling comfortable actually using the language. Anyways, the idea of Bilingualism Week is for Anglophones to use primarily French and Francophones to use primarily English, thus proving that Cameroon is truly a bilingual country.
In Francophone regions, then, Bilingualism Week is an opportunity to encourage English...or, rather, to make everyone feel guilty for not speaking English as well as they should. My principal made this clear Monday morning at our school assembly, where he made a speech in English (he speaks *beautiful* English, by the way) to the students and staff telling them that if they don't speak English, they are pretty much illiterate, and that this week anyone that spoke French to him in his office would be punished. After dismissing the students, he told all the teachers that he wanted to hear all of them speaking English this week, and that I was the only truly bilingual member of the staff, and I'm not even Cameroonian, and they should all be ashamed if they don't speak English.
The English levels of my colleagues are pretty mixed – they have all necessarily spent years studying the language, but few have actually used it. I speak primarily in English with the other English teacher, and there are a couple others (my closer friends on staff) who usually greet me in English. Greetings are a big part of Cameroonian culture, and even people who only speak French and a mother tongue will be able to say things like “Hello, how are you, how's the heat” etc. etc. in several languages. To greet someone in their mother tongue (especially if it's not your mother tongue) is a sign of friendship. Similarly, when people greet me in Mandara (although I am clearly not Mandara), I take it as a sign of their acceptance of me into the community. Even people who ONLY speak Mandara know how to say “Bonjour, ca va?” but their choice to instead ask me “Kar balaye?” is an invitation to speak their mother tongue – an invitation to be part of their community.
Anyways, greetings aside, the prospect of speaking English was clearly terrifying for many of my Francophone colleagues. As a native English-speaker, I was expected to speak French...which I do all the time anyway. I was kind of dreading Bilingualism Week (see my post on Teacher's Day for my feelings on celebrations...), but I think it did earn me some major respect from my co-workers...having to face their own discomfort with English – an official language of their country – while watching me speak comfortably (although often goofily) in French – a language not even spoken in my country – made them realize that while I don't always (or ever...) speak perfect French, I do always speak it, and am (almost) always understood, and that is a pretty big deal.
As an English teacher in a Francophone region, I was supposed to have a prominent role in the festivities, although no one seemed able to tell me what this role was supposed to be, or what would happen at the fete. I was told by the other English teacher that I would be making a speech in English, then that I wouldn't be making a speech, then an hour before the celebration began that I would be making a speech, but in French...but more on that later. Anyways, Sunday night, scrambling to think of bilingual activities we could do, I decided we would begin this week in my older classes (Sophomores, Juniors, Seniors) by discussing bilingualism in Cameroon, then writing essays on the importance of English to read on Friday. Discussions can go either way, and often when I think I have an amazingly creative and wonderful idea for a class, it ends up being a total flop. But students got *way* excited about bilingualism. We began by talking about what makes Cameroon a bilingual country, why English and French are the official languages, what other languages are spoken and in what situations. Soon we were having a truly bilingual discussion – with everyone speaking both English and French and thinking critically about what languages we speak, where, and why. It's a huge part of daily life here, but not something that most of my students seemed to have thought very much about before.
Their essays were wonderful, insightful, and often hilarious, with many students talking about the importance of English for travel, for science and technology, for shopping in Nigeria (really important here – the Nigerian border is only about 20 miles away, and its a lot cheaper to buy things there than here in Cameroon). I had a couple students talk about how they need English to get an American girlfriend, one student who told me that you need it to be successful at the market so you don't think your lack of success is due to someone putting voodoo on you, and one who said simply, “English will help you to fight the bandits.” Very important, indeed.
Friday rolled around and I still had very little idea of what would happen, except that I should get dressed up and go to the high school at 10:30 and hope that a couple of my students would be willing to read their essays. At 9:30 the other English teacher showed up at my house in a suit (usually he wears boubous – traditional Cameroonian clothing; clearly he was way dressed up) to give me a copy of the schedule for the day with the theme for this years' celebration in French (“Celebrer un bilinguisme de qualite: une ouverture sur le professionalisme”) and English (“Celebrating a quality of bilingualism: a window to the professionalism” Sigh.). He then announced that I would be making a speech in French, and also introducing all of the events. This led me to demonstrate a wonderful quality of Cameroonian culture that I have picked up with relish – the temper tantrum. You throw them when you don't get your way, whether you are right or wrong, whether it's a matter of life or death or petty details. I throw them when the man at the bus station demands $2 instead of $1 to put my refrigerator on top of his car, when the lady at the post office "loses" the key to the room with my package in it, when the DJ at the nightclub won't play Rihanna...and when people show up at my door, an hour before a party I don't want to go to, and tell me (even though we've discussed it several times before, and I had been explicitly told I wouldn't be speaking) that I have to make a speech in French. The key to the Cameroonian temper tantrum, however, is not actually getting upset. At the end, win or lose, you always smile, joke, and shake hands. I've gotten really good at the tantrum part...but am less skilled at the rest of it. We ended in a compromise – he would MC, and I would introduce (in French) my kids reading their essays.
An hour later, dressed up and somewhat less angry, I walked over to the lycee. Classes had gone on that morning, and to ensure that none of the kids left before the fete was over, my principal cleverly ordered them out of their classrooms at 10:15 and locked all of their belongings inside. Our high school is in the process of getting electricity, but as it is not yet working, someone had rented a generator so we could have the obligatory obnoxious sound equipment. Truly, a Cameroonian fete is not a real fete unless it involves the following:

1) A microphone that makes everything anyone says (in any language) completely unintelligible. There is great excitement over these microphones, despite the fact that most of what they produce is static, with the occasional prolonged high-pitched shriek. Half the time they don't work at all, leading to an exciting relay race of microphones and wires being passed around and plugged into different holes.

2) Filler music, to be cranked up to a ludicrous volume every time something goes wrong with the microphone. I think this must be a set mix-tape that comes with every sound system, because no matter what region, whether large city or small village, it is always the same: a mix of repetitive Nigerian dance music, hip-hop songs with inappropriate lyrics (“I want to make love right now now now...”), Celine Dion, and Tracy Chapman.

3) Something large blowing over in the wind. Flags are common, as are banners and chairs. At our fete, it was a large portable chalkboard with the themes written on it in French and (incorrectly) in English. At this point, inevitably, the microphone begins squealing, the filler music is cranked up, and while someone raps about doing shots of patron, wires are frantically plugged and unplugged, furniture is righted, and then the fete continues.

As is usually the case with fetes, once I was there and it had begun, it was a lot more fun than I expected. Students performed sketches, poems, and speeches in English, I made a speech in French in front of a couple hundred people (turns out it doesn't matter if your grammar is correct when the microphone is distorting everything you say anyway), there was a trivia contest, a lot of laughter and excitement about English. All in all, it was a pretty good party, and really did seem to get some students excited about learning English. I had several students seek me out (some who I knew, some who I didn't) throughout the week, saying they wanted to study more, asking for resources or help with English. This was very exciting, because I really feel like the best work I can do here is helping interested students. There is no way that I can teach all 250 of my students to learn English or even to pass their exams...that simply cannot be my primary goal as a volunteer with the small amount of time and resources available. But what I can do is create opportunities for learning to take place, and make myself available as a resource to students who really want to learn. Students don't seem to expect their teachers to go the extra mile for them personally, but during bilingualism week all of a sudden they seemed more comfortable approaching me, and I was able to do simple things like give out photocopies of readings and grammar sheets and emphasize that any time they have questions or want to talk about English, they are more than welcome to come talk to me. This is really exciting.
So I survived Bilingualism Week, but it is only the beginning of a series of fetes we will have in the next few weeks. After Bilingualism Week is “Fete de la Jeunesse” – “Youth Week” – which culminates in a parade in Mora. Classes are canceled all week so kids can practice marching. Seriously. The Friday after that is “Mother Language Day”, which I'm excited about, and a week and a half after that is Women's Day. As much as I complain about them now, I am beginning to think that in a year and a half, when I am back in America, I will miss the opportunity to skip work, wear matching outfits, drink Fanta, speak French, and listen to Tracy Chapman with several hundred new friends.

Thanks, as always, for all the love and support. I am thinking of you all in your winter coats as I lie on the floor in front of my fan in the afternoons wondering if it's 120 or only 110 degrees out...Much love!