“This is what I want in heaven… words to become notes and conversations to be symphonies.” ~ Tina Turner.

I became a student of language when I moved to Jamaica from the UK as a child.  Although English is the official tongue there, the first language of most Jamaicans is patois (‘patwah’); a wonderful blend of sounds, words and accents that hint of the lands, cultures and continents of origin.  It is possible, even for a born Jamaican, to stand next to a man from a different parish who is in full story-telling mode, and have no idea what he is saying, catching a word here and there, sprinkled with ‘ben-deh’ or other word combinations that are totally foreign. 

Depending on the educational level of the parents, most children learn to be bilingual. There is the correct grammar to be spoken in the classroom, and the patois for the playground.  In some households, especially where the parents are professionals, patois is not permitted anywhere, and children almost have to hide their knowledge of it.  Fortunately my parents had no such qualms, and I was allowed to try it out, to practice it with my peers and other friendly adults.  The interesting thing was not how to pronounce words with a Jamaican accent (for the record, it is ‘Juh-mayka’) which was hard enough, but the phrases and words that do not resemble any English word and may in fact be derived from an African language. 

The Jamaican poet, author and actress Louise Bennett Coverley was one of the first to proudly perform in her native tongue.  She wrote poems in patois, told stories in patois, even to an international audience.  She gave permission to average Jamaicans to revel in the originality of their expression, to acknowledge it with pride.  As a written language it is challenging, since there is no consensus on the spelling.  But there are academics who have been working on having the language declared official, and there is even a complete Bible written in patois.

Learning by immersion can be challenging, and there were often phrases that I heard in context without understanding what they meant.  One that sticks with me is ‘seh feh’, which I heard as one word ‘sefe’.  Unlike the phrase ‘I dare you’, it actually throws out the challenge in the other direction.  When you tell someone to say ‘feh’, you are challenging them to challenge you. If you say ‘feh’ I will jump off the roof! Thankfully I never got myself in a predicament by telling someone to ‘seh feh’!

Last weekend I spent time with classmates and schoolmates from my high school days.  Like many Jamaican high schools, there are alumni associations around the world that raise funds to support school projects and individuals back in Jamaica.  Although education is ‘free’, there are many costs associated with it that many Jamaicans cannot afford.  And so we come together, have a fund-raising event (usually combining good food, music and dancing) that generates funds to send back to the island.  If you want to stay young, hang around with people who knew you as a teenager.  The years fly away, and you are a ‘yute’ again.

When I entered high school (which under the British system begins in 6^th grade), I soon found a best friend who I can still call on in the middle of any random night, 56 years later.  She grew up in one of those homes where patois was forbidden.  With both of her parents educators, the expectations were high.  Unfortunately, as we well know, school can be an unforgiving place, and her peers viewed her correctness as an expression of arrogance (she was ‘too boasty’).  It took a few years, but we broke her down.  We often joke that it was I (the English born) who taught her patois!  But she had a turn of phrase which made me crazy.  When presented with some interesting or curious piece of information she would respond ‘Oh really?’ which soon got on my nerves, especially if it sounded sarcastic.  And I demanded that she stop using it or else I would stop speaking to her.  To which she replied ‘Oh really?’ and that was that.  Except that I couldn’t stand not speaking to her, so I would write her notes instead.  Fortunately, she broke the deadlock and the friendship continued.

We often underestimate the power of words to hurt or to heal.  In today’s rapid text world, abrupt phrases can go global in seconds, and we may not pay heed to the way a message can be read.  We may have good intentions, but an off-hand comment may lead to resentment that breaks up a friendship.  We have politicians who convey whole philosophies merely by dismissing the struggles of oppressed people with one word: ‘woke’.  Symbols carry weight, and by displaying a confederate flag you can declare your affiliations without even saying a word.

And yet it is through words that we tell our stories, stories that show our common humanity.  If I never read a book (or watch a movie) about the Holocaust, how can I empathize with a group of people who have been marginalized for centuries?  If I never read the history of the Native American people, how can I relate to their struggle?

It is our job as human beings to try to uncover as much as we can about each other, so that we may judge not.  It is one of the things we do easily, without thinking, basing our assumptions on first impressions.  But until we share words, share stories with someone from a different background than our own, how can we possibly understand their life, their history?

This Friday morning I am reflecting on all of the stories that I have yet to learn, of people who have impacted the lives of others.  I hope you will make it your business to explore and discover and then share what you have found.  Our public libraries are full of those stories and history.  And if you get a chance, dance! It will make you feel sixteen years old again!

Have a wonderful weekend, Family!

One Love!

Namaste.