Forget Articles and Unnecessary Verbs
Communicating with Minimal English in W. Africa
‘No, no! She tooo low’. said Morgan, the one-day-per week gardener . It was a normal (hot) day in Lagos, Nigeria. He was sharpening his machete, getting ready to cut our small plot of grass, but concentrating on something near the papaya tree with great interest. I was coming out of the house, on the way to the waiting office car outside.
I remember the incident well because it happened shortly before the local paper on April 1 of that year, carried a front-page article and picture entitled ‘Scientist Cross Breeds Dog and Cat’. The photo showed the cute offspring, with front half looking very cat-like, and the rear definitely woof-woof. It was a great hit with locals and expats, alike.
To resume the story, the gardner’s attention was focused on a visiting much larger male dog (Morgan had left the gate open again) who was attempting to mount Adja, our pretty little female dachshund. (‘Adja’ means ‘dog’ in the dominant local Yoruba language; Morgan and the other local people who heard it thought that name was hilarious, of course.)
After much effort, and all sorts of contortions, the visitor realized that Morgan was right —— and it wouldn’t work. He finally gave up on Adja and wandered off thru the same open gate he had come. That was my lesson on unnecessary verbs, especially the verb ‘to be’.
Fraser, our office driver, was an older man than Morgan. He had been in North Africa during World War II working as Personal Chauffeur to ‘Monty’, the British General Montgomery (of 1942 Alemein fame). Alemein (for the younger readers who may not be aware of those times) was the first land battle in which the Allies beat the Germans (led by Gen. Rommel, the ‘Desert Fox’ ) decisively.
Fraser would sometimes relate tidbits about ‘Monty’ to us: for example, he wouldn’t travel anywhere without his two puppies (named ‘Hitler’ and ‘Rommel’). Beside the nostalgic tidbits of ‘Monty’, Fraser also wisely taught me about the articles. It was best to forget them, in order to make yourself understood by ordinary Africans with no or little formal education in English. So, it was: ‘Stay with car’, ‘Wait here till meeting finish’, or ‘Fix bad tire’. Ah! the functionality of minimalism!
One rainy day, about two months later, we were on a field trip into the hinterlands, away from Lagos, the big city. We were passing Benin City, heading East to cross the River Niger, and stopped to fill up the gas tank. While Fraser was handling that, a colleague and I went to look for a men’s room (WC), of which there were none visible at the gas station.
At a small convenience-store next door I naively asked:
‘You have toilet?’
The small Nigerian storekeeper looked straight at me, and replied firmly but calmly:
‘No, only beer and Coca-Cola.’
(Note: I thought many moons later: perhaps I should have used the Brit term ‘loo’, rather than ‘toilet’, Nigeria having been a Colony of the Queen for over half a century.)
