Speaking English – from creolese to legalese

Jun 30, 2019 Countryman

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By Dennis Nichols

Guyana’s recent referral to the Caribbean Court of Justice and the resultant ruling remind us that we are indeed an English-speaking West Indian nation; that CARICOM is very much alive and if not kicking, at least ticking.
The CCJ’s communication is clear. But since there are some rumblings and grumblings from these muddy shores, persons from outside the region may wonder how Guyana came to be a Caribbean nation though situated plumb on the South American mainland; as if the sea that separates us from the rest of the region has somehow rendered our culture and language incongruous with that of the other English-speaking islands. Not so, regardless of the discourse surrounding the No-confidence Vote and its aftermath.
Of course, geologically-speaking, we are solidly sub-continent – part of a landmass that includes the former French, Dutch, Spanish, and Portuguese Guianas, along with eight other non-English-speaking countries. Language is obviously a key as we blend culturally with the rest of the English-speaking region. Now with our two leading political parties and our country on the receiving end of Caribbean Court justice, some persons seem to be questioning just how heavily its jurisdiction/words ought to weigh in Guyana.
To them it appears that a ‘foreign’ entity is somehow encroaching on our sovereignty by ‘ordering’ the parties involved to make submissions with respect to consequential orders, and to get the elections machinery humming. Newsflash: The CCJ is our highest court of appeal, (and repeal?) Like it or not, the court has spoken. Its words carry little ambiguity because it could not allow itself to be caught up in anything remotely close to the legal semantics we had been indulging in here since December 21, 2018. We Guyanese speak English, don’t we? Or do we?
The majority of CARICOM member countries actually do speak English, whether it be the Queen’s, the peasant’s; or in Guyana’s case, the constitution’s. This last one has obviously put our politicians and legalists at odds with one another, and to some degree, with CCJ’s counsel. Language, especially English, is a curious and dynamic mix of sound, syntax, and semantics in which meaning and communication can be clarified and enhanced; or become muddled and lost. And here in the Caribbean where there is a bewildering interplay of dialect and creolese running alongside the accepted standard, it can be at once bothersome, bemusing, and hilarious.
But let’s leave the NCV, the CCJ, and GECOM for a while. A few years ago, I wrote an article on ‘Guyanisms’ and another on ‘Language lapses’ in which I sought to put what some linguists call bastardized English into context. I alluded to the fact that even British English is not what one may call a pure language, but a mélange of other tongues, and that many of the words (mispronunciations and all) and idioms we use here in Guyana do not necessarily devalue the language or hinder basic communication. Additionally, the nuances and rhythm of our dialects and constructions with their West African, Indian, and other influences, add colour and richness to otherwise dull and prosaic expressions. I love it.
Where else but in an ‘English-speaking’ country like Guyana could one have used, understood, and appreciated, (from decades ago) words like ‘soor’ or ‘swaar’, ‘sweet man’, ‘cunnumunu’, ‘pepperfly’, ‘pampazet’, ‘fat-fowl’, ‘big-skin’, ‘bannuh’, ‘binny’, ‘voicestrous’, ‘hungish’, ‘brackle’, ‘boderation’, ‘feg’, ‘pagalee’, ‘antiman’, and a hundred other ‘Guyanisms’?
And where else could the following communications mean the same thing as ‘I went into the interior/hinterland’: “Mi went in de bush”, ‘Ah bin in de bush”, “Mi bin gaan a bush”, “Ah did gaan in de bush”, “Mi bin gaan backdam”, “Mi bin a backdam”, “Mi bin bush”, and a half-dozen more. My favourite construction remains the young country girl saying to my mother ‘Mi mumma taak seh if yuh gat wan cyat pickney gee am’ which translated as ‘My mother is asking you for a kitten.’
African, Indian, Amerindian, (and to a lesser extent Chinese and Portuguese) contributions to the Guyanese lexicon are numerous and varied. Although the definitions of many are narrow and practical, some words may have connotations and shades of meaning depending on context, but are generally understood within those parameters. A few of these are pickney, brigah, tika, nyam, kweh-kweh, bambai, massa, bakra, dugla, jaray, narah, logie, sanaay, putta-putta, mattie, dodoh, packoo, bina, chul-chul, bundarie, corial, kayap, itabo, warishi, tacooba, and balahoo. Most, if not all, are understood by Guyanese although some may be going the way of the dodo.
Linguists and other scholarly folk have much to say about regional dialects/Creolese in their analyses of Caribbean idioms. Too much I think, although I appreciate the scholarship. For example, if I dissect the statement ‘A socially stratified creole speech continuum … exists between Guyanese English and Standard/British English’ I get it. However, the elasticity and dynamism of language make the process to arrive at such a conclusion an ongoing and tedious exercise. And since more and more young people are now texting their communication on internet sites, we are duty-bound to explore, analyze, and add certain new terms to the general repertoire – a herculean task for the older litterateur.
I wonder what would my parents, for example, make of my Facebook page if they woke up from their 48-year death sleep. For one thing they might feel they’re in the twilight zone or still asleep, since ‘woke’ in internet slang means being ultra-conscious of social issues. But they would be both ‘lit’ and ‘on fleek’ if they figured out that ‘TTYL’ means ‘talk to you later’, and realized that ‘YOLO’, meaning ‘you only live once’ was something they could readily relate to. ‘Tweet’, ‘twitter’ and ‘blog’ would have become child’s play by then, but ‘clickbait’, ‘hashtag’, ‘emoji’, and ‘meme’, may necessitate some ‘googling’. And again, there are hundreds more.
Some time ago Guyanese poet, John Agard, did an informal review/chat of a book of Guyanese words and idioms by the late C.A. Yansen, a former Queen’s College teacher. He alluded to ‘Yango’s’ way with words which took listeners back to a Guyanese childhood with many colourful terms that made his audience laugh and a few, blush. Among them were terms for body parts, functions, food etc., and not surprisingly there were some which, while appearing to be ‘Creolese’ were in fact Oxford English Dictionary words. So, be careful then in your generalizations and pontifications.
I’ll end with something of a digression in deference to ‘Yango’. One day while teaching my class at QC, he noticed a boy staring through the window. In jest he asked the lad if he wanted to go outside and eat some grass. Then to offset that absurdity, he proceeded to tell us how Hannibal and his men had to eat grass in their journey across the Alps. It was an immensely satisfying and colourful story which took up most of the lesson’s remaining time. He indeed had a way with words, and to this day I remember him as one of the more relatable teachers at that institution. Language, communication, and learning are much more than standard English expression.
As English-speaking Caribbean Guyanese, we need to embrace all aspects of our rich linguistic traditions – from creolese to legalese.

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