LANGUAGE IS SWEET WHEN MZOLI'S BEST LOOSENS THE TONGUE
Tessa Dowling

The Sunday Independent
January 15 2006

Eish, how many people know that this is the year of African languages? S'true! I get this newsletter, all about African languages, and it tells me that at the end of January this year - wait for it! - African heads of state are going to declare 2006 the year of African languages. Halala! (Congratulations!) Finally. After all, there are more than 800 of them.

Hey, the way I love our African languages! It's like loving an irrepressibly witty, naughty, inventive, original man. The more he shocks you, breaks the rules, the more you want to be with him, hear his voice, watch him do the dishes in his furry slippers. So, although I am aware that my girlfriends are not going to want to talk about the year of African languages, I know that by their very conversation they are going to show me why it should be.

So there I am sitting in kwaMzoli with the girlfriends, Notension, Noamen, Nostyle and Nononsense, and the day is sweet and the beer just bitter enough. And, eish!, maybe it is the spirit of the new year (or the year of African languages), or the spirits we have just imbibed, but we get nostalgic about our men, the ones we had, the ones we loved, the ones who praised us. And I am happy, because I know this conversation will throw up some brilliant linguistic gems.

Notension, that lovely girl with the moveable behind, gets up and says: "That old man of mine, he used to say, 'Sweetie, amareverse akho mahle nyhani!' (Your reverses [buttocks] are really beautiful!) Noamen ululates, and says: "My one, he was totally bowled over by my beauty! He told his tshomis (friends), 'Iwindskrini yakhe iyandibulala!' (Her windscreen [face] is killing me.)

At this point, as a feminist (no word in an African language for that), I butt in that the girlfriends are too much being compared to cars, but Nostyle flutters those crazy false eyelashes of hers, adjusts her bra strap, heaves her ample bosom onto the table and whispers conspiratorially, "Kodwa nathi siyayenza!" (But we also do it!)

"Oh yes, it looks like the amasi [sour milk] might melt in our mouths, but when we talk about our men, there are certain vehicles that we use by way of metaphor. For example, we refer to that most important reproductive part of a man as a Mercedes Benz if it is strong and powerful, but a Porsche if it is small and nifty."

Hey, girlfriends, that was paraffin to our laughter wick! We clapped each others' hands, we shouted, we looked at the guys at the next table and wondered whether they were Mercedeses, Porches or maybe just old Minis - still cute, still in running order, and in demand by discerning, older women, with lots of character.

After a lively conversation that from the outside might have sounded like the chit-chat of second-hand car salesmen, I ask my sisters why we use so much English these days, especially when talking about love, sex and romance. Was it the influence of the soapies, perhaps?

"Well, maybe," offers Noamen, "but there is another thing: at least with English we all know what we are talking about. There is no ... whatchamacallit?"

"I-ambiguity," suggests Nostyle, whose other nickname is Nodictionary.

Noamen explains what she means and recalls a Yeyi boyfriend she once had. (Yeyi is a language spoken in the Caprivi Strip and the Okavango Swamps.) "Such a sweetie, a definite Mercedes Benz, studying law. But so offended by the isiXhosa word for ... 'what?'"

We all say "ntoni?" and immediately the bartender (unfortunately also Yeyi-speaking) blushes and looks very uncomfortable.

It transpires that the word "ntoni", which is the the Nguni word for "what", actually means "vagina" in Yeyi. Seriyas! Nodictionary quips that such language confusion could lead a boy to call the speech of a boring girlfriend with lots of questions "The Ntoni Monologues".

But then, as a grey cloud darkens the afternoon, the conversation turns a little sad. What is it about our men, our amadoda (isiXhosa), banna (Sesotho/Setswana), amagents, ama-owu (township slang) that they disappoint us so?

Noamen states that she now wants us to call her by her new name, No-men. "Sisi, they are only trouble, and at the end of the day, what do you have, a baby and a broken heart? If not something worse."

We share stories for a while - as an umlungu, my man who does the washing, cooking and cleaning, is seen as a great catch. Nostyle says some African men are getting fairly domesticated now; her sister's husband could even change a nappy.

So what is the problem?

Nononsence, who has now consumed a fair amount of Mzoli's best brew, is emboldened by our conversation and her memory of her considerable charms. She raises her fist in the air and shouts at the top of her voice, "The problem with our men? You wanna know the problem with our men? Eish, they have no self-control - no bloody willypower!"

And I don't think she meant that they needed iViagra.