On French West Africa

The global utility of English is something that is easy to take for granted. Almost anywhere I go in the world, you don’t have to go far to find someone who speaks English. Certainly, native speakers of Hungarian or Tagalog do not have such a luxury. English is especially prevalent in the world’s globalized cities, where it is not uncommon to overhear Egyptian and Brazilian businessmen conversing in English. I find, however, that different parts of the world embrace language in different ways. In the Russian-speaking world, which is arguable one of the least friendly to English speakers, people are often quite surprised when a foreigner speaks decent Russian. Many, especially young people, insist on speaking broken English, even when the visitor’s Russian might be better (perhaps this is changing…) This is distinctly not the case in French-speaking Africa.

French-speaking Africa speaks French. This may seem a rather obvious statement, perhaps even ridiculous. But it’s the only way that I can begin to express the importance of the French language here. For the past ten days, I have been interacting with seminary leaders in the region at a consultation for French-speaking seminaries throughout Africa. There are only two people (former colleagues at OCI, one from the US, one from Zimbabwe) who do not speak French. I am surprised repeatedly that people carry on lengthy and involved conversations with me in my rather strained French, only to find them later speaking fluent English with my former colleagues. I do not say this out of frustration. I actually say it out of respect. I’m glad that they “force me” (in the best sense of that word) to speak their language. But I’ve not encountered anything else quite like it in the world. Chinese (at least urban Chinese), in my experience, do not seem to expect a foreigner to speak Chinese. Dutch and Hungarian people effortlessly switch to one of the 14 languages they speak when they see a foreigner (perhaps a slight overstatement). I’ve even found urban dwellers in France less doctrinaire on this issue. But French West Africans assume that a visitor speaks French.

One of our first nights here, my friend from Zimbabwe, who did not know more than a word or two of French, sat down to dinner with me and several other early arrivals from French Africa. One of the truly senior leaders of the group – a doyen –sat at the head of the table. A fluent speaker of English, he asked my friend “how many words of French have you learned today?” My friend took it as a joke. It was not a joke. He has since made some progress, reported nightly to le doyen.

Perhaps the most interesting part of this for me is that French is not the “heart language” of most inhabitants of French-speaking nations in Africa. Most have at least a “mother tongue” of their home tribe or area, and many also speak a local “trade language” as well. Complex marriage and family situations often add two or three more languages to the mental mix for an individual and a lot of highly educated people speak English (the interspersion of English- and French-speaking nations in West Africa makes this more likely). Speaking with several people this weeks, it is clear that they fear that their children’s generation is beginning to lose “mother tongues,” which in so many ways form the groundwork for the African mental universe.

So, if one wishes to exercise French, Côte d’Ivoire, Senegal, Togo, Benin, or other French-speaking African nations are the place to go. Vive la Francophonie!