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We've been here a month and a half, so it's probably time I crack on and get serious about learning Wolof.
(Sidenote - I started writing this a month and a half ago. We're now three months in. I've learnt quite a lot in that time, so I'm going to go through and add a few bits and bobs. This is no longer an extensive list of all my Wolof, but it's a good starting point.)
I'm writing this mainly to consolidate what I know so far, but also because, as I wrote in my personal statement (along with every other language student, no doubt), language ties closely to culture. Explaining what I've learnt in Wolof might also say a lot about what I've learnt about Senegal.
When talking to the locals about the language, they all seem to say it's easy to pick up. From what we can gather, there's no real written form. When I'm writing down vocabulary, the response "how do I spell that?" is normally "however you want"; Taga mentioned that some people learn to write Wolof, but for the most part their first written language is French or Arabic. This can present challenges when teaching at the centre; some of the younger kids don't speak French yet, consequently writing on the board doesn't help them with things like pronunciation. For example, the Senegalese "r" is harder than the English one, it's almost rolled (I can't roll my "r"s, despite plans to learn Spanish next year), so the kids heard my pronunciation of "brother" as "bwother", or "blother". Writing b-R-o-t-h-e-r on the board is of absolutely no help in this situation. Similarly, there's a group of guys in their final year at the Quaranic school who speak Wolof and write in Arabic. This made for an interesting first lesson; we only established this after fifteen minutes of me saying and writing phrases in French and English. We got through the rest of the lesson with my beginner's Wolof and Djibel's (their friend who speaks Wolof and a little English) help. I would say a phrase as clearly as possible in English and they would write in what I gather is phonetic Arabic.
My language-loving self found this absolutely fascinating. Senegal is a hugely language-rich country. Wolof is most people's first language, but different regions have other local languages, like Serer. They learn French in school, along with English and/or a range of others like Spanish, German, or Portuguese. Everyone seems to have a friend who can speak six languages, and from our experience, everyone from children to shopkeepers to law students are multi-lingual. On the other side of the coin, the students tell us that some people leave school having never learnt to express themselves properly in French. They say that they're mainly taught grammar in the classroom, and have similar stories to ours from the UK of people studying a language for six years and coming out with nothing. It seems that universally the classroom is not always an environment conducive to language learning.
On to Wolof! The first things you learn, as with any language, are greetings. It's possible to hold a conversation here without saying anything more than variations on "how are you?" "I'm fine." In fact, it's pretty much mandatory to go through three or four of these every time you see someone.
Salaam Malekum - Peace be with you
Malekum Salaam - And with you
Used like hello, remember to say it to everyone you pass
Na nga def? - How are you?
Ma ngi fi. - I'm fine.
Ngi and nga are the present continuous (I am -ing). Ngi vaguely indicates something near to you and nga something separate and far away.
Ya ngi nos? - Are you having a good time?
Ma ngi nos. - I'm having a good time.
Verbs don't tend to change to indicate person, case or time (take that, Latin), instead this is gathered through the words around the verb or the context. Scratch that - I've now learnt that they do change to indicate person in other ten
Naka suba si/journee bi/coeur gi etc - How's the morning/day/family etc?
Nekhne - Nice
"Si", "bi", "gi" etc seem to mean "the". There are lots of them. I am yet to work out the reasoning behind which you use with each noun.
Naka waar? - How's it going?
Cool/Nice
Nelaw nga bubaah? - Did you sleep well?
Wow - Yes.
Ya ngi si jam? - Do you have peace?
Ma ngi si jam./Jam rek. - I have peace./Peace only.
Some more informal greetings
Eh boi! - Hey, boy/girl/friend/you over there!
Toubab eh! - White person (normally half way across the street from you) hey!
Kai - Come
Adi coumba taco! - Stop what you're doing!
Modi! - Okay!
This is Serer but it's a popular comedic song, a bit like the Macarena in the sense that everyone knows it. Someone shouts "adi coumba taco" and you jump, stop what you're doing, put your hands between your knees and shout "modi". Since the people along our road discovered that we know the dance, we can't walk anywhere without it being shouted at us. Toubabs doing adi coumba taco never gets old.
Another important set of vocab is, of course, food.
Kai lekk/ndekki/an/reer - Come eat/have breakfast/lunch/dinner
If we kai-ed every time we were told to kai lekk, we'd be the size of houses. It's part of the greeting process if you walk past someone's house at a meal time.
Sur naa - I'm full/not hungry
Nekhne (trop) - (very) nice
This is important if you want to stop eating without offending the cook. Putting your spoon down before the (massive) communal dish is empty will elicit choruses of "lekk! Lekk!" This is another part of general manners; saying "its very nice but I'm full" will appease.
Kuddu gi - Spoon
Paaka bi - Knife
Our main experiences with these include cutting a mountain of onions for various spicy sauces. As Ndieme told us while laughing at our streaming eyes "if you marry a Senegalese man you will cut a lot of onions."
Togg - To cook
Lekk - To eat
Lekk gi - Food
Where possible, verbs and nouns use the same word.
Palaat bi - The Dish
Ceeb - Rice
Ceebu Jen - Rice and fish
National dish. Very important. Eaten daily. Can take all morning to prepare (the women work really bleedin' hard). Comes in red and white. Red is nicer, couldn't tell you why. Might include 3 vegetables and 2 fish between 6.
Haal - Watermelon
Yum.
Bissap
Bouye
Local juices. Home made with lots of sugar. Also come frozen in little plastic bags, carried around the houses by ladies with cooler boxes every lunch time.
Ataya - Tea
Nana - Mint
The mint goes in the tea (Chinese variety) along with more sugar than you'd ever imagine is sensible.
Body parts
Tankk - Legs
Loho - Arms/hands, I'm not sure
Nopp - Ears
Honq nopp - Red ears
Toubabs have red ears. This is very funny.
Bahan - Nose
Batt - Throat
Butt - Eyes
Geme - Mouth
These go together in a chant, a bit like "heads, shoulders, knees and toes"
Counting
Benn - One
Naar - Two
Nett - Three
Nent - Four
Juroom - Five
Juroom benn - Six
Now you might be thinking "hey Lizzi, they work on base five! You only need to know five words then you've got counting down." If only it were that simple, friend. For the most part, yes you just use base five, but there are a few wild cards thrown in there, and money uses it's own unique counting system just to throw you off.
Juroom naar
Juroom nett
Juroom nent
Fukk - Ten
Fukk ak benn - Eleven
Fukk ak naar
….
Naar fukk - Twenty
Fanweer - Thirty
The odd one out - it means something to do with the moon, which has a monthly cycle, months have 30 days (ish).
Nent fukk - Fourty
Juroom - fukk
Juroom benn fukk
Juroom naar fukk
Juroom nett fukk
Juroom nent fukk
Teemeer - Hundred
Teemeer ak benn - Hundred and one
Junni - Thousand
Shopping. Everything is, comparatively, incredibly cheap here. We're payed around £1.50 a day (not including food and accommodation) and that's plenty. Still, your frame of reference changes; Zara has been known to haggle over 3p for a banana. That's an important 25cfa!
Naata? - How much?
Dafa seer - It's expensive
Conjugate dafa before the verb to form the present simple. I'd tell you exactly how to conjugate but I haven't worked it out yet.
Wann ni ko - Lower the price
Naata nga men? - How much can you give?
Men - to be able to. If you tell a shopkeeper their wears are expensive, this will be their next question. Top haggling tips - stick around as long as possible to show them that you're in no rush to get away, don't buy anything before walking away first - if it truly is as low as they're willing to go they'll let you leave, if not they'll chase you down and concede a lower price. We find this is a good way to work out if we're being toubabed or not. To be toubabed - to be ripped off because you're white so evidently loaded and know nothing about how much anything actually costs.
Counting money. I hope you're good at your five times tables.
Derem - Five cfa
Juroomi (derem) - Twenty five cfa
When talking money, you times the number by five. The "derem" part is optional. So "teemeer ak juroom naar fukk ak juroom (derem)" is 175 derem, or 875cfa. Granted, the numbers are usually more rounded than that, but every now and then you get something along those lines thrown at you. We tend to do the money part in French. "Cent francs" is still 100cfa; much easier.
Fukk (derem) - Fifty cfa
Naar fukk (derem) - Hundred cfa
And so it continues to get more and more complicated.
Right, I'll leave it there as this is plenty long enough, but I hope I've provided a glimpse into Wolof and our experience of Senegal in general. This has been really fun for me to write, maybe I'll do a follow up in three month's time. Next blog post in the works: Welcome To Diapalante! A tour of the centre and what we do.
- comments
Mum Laugh out loud funny. Love the red ears!
Felicia Love the definition of " to be toubabed " !!
Kate your intelligence never fails to amaze me. this was a great read !