I’m reposting this today in honour of 100 years of Afrikaans being an official Language of South Africa. I wrote it twelve years ago after having lived in South Africa for a few years. I fully expected that by now I would have become tweetalig but alas, those aging language receptors did nothing more significant than age further, I apologise to everyone – thank you for kindly accepting my failure to progress…

Previously Posted on April 13, 2013 by impangele

One reason for choosing Swellendam as the place in which to live the rest of our lives was, believe it or not, because it was a town of first language Afrikaans speakers.  We were solidly against the idea of moving into a little group of ex-pats and setting up a laager with the other Brits or “swallows”.  We preferred to try to fit in to the community and not expect the community to fit in with us.

We blithely expected that we would be speaking the language within weeks or months. We forgot that the last time either of us learned a foreign language was when the language receptors of our brains were fresh and young, and not the atrophied mess that passes for brain matter in our aged noddles. We also did not count on the fact that the Afrikaans are an extremely courteous people, and in any social situation where the mad Engelse pair is present, everyone switches into English (unless they are having a skinner about us, obviously).

Our first real encounter with the language as residents as opposed to tourists was on our second day in SA. We had been recommended a shop in Hermanus where they could sell us, at a decent price, absolutely everything we needed to move in, a bed, a cooker, kitchen equipment, TV etc.  etc. and deliver it to Swellendam the following day. Everything went smoothly until it was time to pay, the sum of money being so large that it was necessary to discuss the transaction with the vendor’s bank manager. Who was on the golf course.  And who did not want to be interrupted baie dankie.  The one end of the conversation we were privileged to hear was loud, angry, delivered with a very red face, and we understood every word – swear words in Afrikaans and English may be spelt differently, but they sound exactly the same.

We grinned at each other – this was going to be easy. We would have this Afrikaans malarkey sorted in no time.  But you cannot rely on swear words to get you through daily life in Swellendam (unless, as my husband soon discovered, you are watching Rugby down at the pub).  I was unfortunate enough to find out through a shocked reaction from the neighbours, that it is far, far better to entice a cat in your direction by saying in a wheedling tone “Here, kitty, kitty,” and not the word that I had been using.

Reading road signs has been another good way to extend vocabulary.  We spent some time wondering who the members were of the Green Toe Gang who seemed to have access to many of the paths in Bontebok Park.  Husband was quite keen to find the Slag gate, behind which he was sure was going to find lots of ‘easy’ women.  So busy was he looking that he drove right into one of the potholes about which he was being warned. I am also ashamed to admit being to childishly and momentarily amused when we first came upon signs saying “Slaghuis” and “Hoerskool”.  (“They have a school for that? Brilliant!” said Josh the devil teenage mini-gapper mentioned in an earlier blog entry

For written communication much of the time I rely on “Google Translate”, which is not too bad if I use it to translate from Afrikaans into English, but is utterly untrustworthy the other way round. Because I don’t know if it is wrong or right.  I used to send Swellengrams which I believed I had translated correctly, and then would receive e-mails in reply, ranging from polite suggestions of corrections, to others which you could tell had been accompanied by howls of derisive laughter as they were being typed. (Update: my Braai-Broekies caused some amusement on a poster advertising braaibroodjies – honestly sounds the same to me)
Recently, noticing my struggle with the language as Mrs Gram on Swellengram, Sue, a kind resident of Swellendam, offered to help out with lessons – I was not the only one with a desire to learn, and a small group of people gathered each week to learn vocabulary and idiom.  Sadly for me, the first vocabulary list to learn was useful words for shopping and cooking, my two least favourite activities. (Beauty has just read this over my shoulder and sighed: “You see, I told you – you are NOT a proper Madam”). As Sue went around the class asking us what we intended to buy / cook at the weekend, my heart sank. I didn’t even have an answer in English.

Being an ex-teacher, I had a great deal of sympathy for Sue, because  the different levels of understanding, intelligence and behaviour in our group was just as diverse as any modern comprehensive in the UK. (OK, I admit, I was the naughty one) Fortunately for Sue, my ability to attend lessons on a regular basis has forced me to drop out, and now I am learning from an app on my iPad. It is however an app for tourists, so whilst I am learning to say “what a wonderful country you have here”  “can you tell me how to get to the airport” (delivered in an incredibly monotonous tone, like Voice-Over App Lady), it is not really helping me to join in or eavesdrop on the local skinner.  Which is, if I am honest, my primary reason for wanting to learn Afrikaans.

Other advice I have been given is to watch the ‘soapies’, and I have tried. But I am just so fascinated by the fact that English sub titles appear  EVEN WHEN THEY ARE SPEAKING ENGLISH that I forget to listen to the words.  And I am hooked on Masterchef which tends to be on at the same time. (Obviously it is important for me to watch that, in order to hone my cooking and shopping skills…..)

Some years ago I was elected onto the local Tourism Committee (RIP) I was looking forward to my first meeting, but the looks of dismay on the faces of the rest of the (pretty well established)Committee demonstrated that they were not feeling the same sense of joy and excitement. The Finance Officer said (pleasantly enough) “oh no, now we are going to have to have our meetings in Engels”. I did say that I would do my best to ‘leer’ as fast as I could, but then the committee unanimously elected me to the least favourite job of Secretary and consequently hoisted themselves with their own petard.   Occasionally when debates of great import occurred in rapid and passionate Afrikaans, and high level resolutions were made, the resulting minutes would be as blank as my expression as I sat listening (trying to leer) .

Actually, now my vocabulary is quite wide – if I am reading. I can more or less read the articles in the local papers, I can understand friends’ Facebook statuses,   I can even laugh at humorous cartoons with speech bubbles. But what I am still struggling with is pronunciation.  My first attempt at “goeie môre” at the supermarket came out like a Shakespearean “Good Morrow”. Patient friends will say words and phrases over and over; I listen and try to replicate what they say.  To me it sounds exactly the same – and undeserving of the giggles and snorts which usually greet my finest efforts. You would think ‘Dwarskersbos’ was an easy word to say. But my efforts are, apparently, “nie goed nie” and no one can understand me, so I have decided never to visit the darn place again. At least I can say ‘Swellendam.’

Language is one thing, understanding Afrikaans people and their culture was another huge learning curve for us – and our struggles with that will be a whole other blog entry. (If I am brave enough)

Update: I wasn’t!