Tuesday, 14th July, 2015 saw me spending time reminiscing over my journey so far with the French language and culture, a journey which began when a young Irish lady named Firinne Ni Chrachain arrived at my school to teach French. I was in Form Two at St. Anne’s School, Ibadan, and within two weeks of being taught by that young woman, I was certain of what my vocation would be: I was going to acquire the French language to the best of my ability and become a teacher of it. From that time up until now, it has been almost a love story – of continuing discovery and appreciation primarily of the language, but also of the people and their culture, as well as of the country of France itself.
Le quartorze juillet, the fourteenth of July, is France’s national day, commemorating the storming of the Bastille and the beginning of the French Revolution in 1789. It was celebrated this year, as usual, with pomp and pageantry, featuring a parade by the military, the air force, the police and the gendarmerie, firemen and parachutists, all under the watchful and appreciative eyes of the President de la Republique, Mr. Francois Hollande, and the invite d’honneur, the President of Mexico, Mr. Enrique Penea Nieto, whose country’s soldiers joined in the defil down the famous Champs-Elyses. The participation of special forces that had been involved in fighting extremist Islamic attacks in France in recent times drew much appreciation from the crowd, while the spectacular aerial display by the French Rafale and Mirage fighter jets literally had heads turning!
President Hollande went on to give the annual interview from the Hotel de la Marine, fielding questions from two journalists on issues ranging from very important international ones like the arms deal with Iran and the situation of Greece within the European Union to more local ones like the buzz recently created by a tweet emanating from the President’s partner, Madame, Valerie Trierweiler. A friend, also a professor of French and definitely one of the best speakers of the language known to me, called later to marvel at the poise and elegance of speech and thought displayed by Mr. Hollande during that interview. It made both of us wonder just how long we have to wait to again have leaders with such linguistic prowess ( la Enahoro).
As if to mimic the parade being viewed on the screen, mental images came flashing by in quick succession: La Residence; les cheteaux de la Loire (castles in France’s Loire region) and the wine-tasting sessions; language classes at CAVILAM in the small town of Vichy as well as the idiosyncrasies of the different teachers; typing and speedwriting classes; trips around France, especially Paris, and from France to the United Kingdom; etc. Many of those images had to do with the experiences – and escapades! – of a group of French students (including one now famous publicity secretary of a ruling political party) from four Nigerian universities during their mandatory “year abroad” programme which had been converted into a course preparing them to work as hosts and hostesses during the 2nd World Festival of Black and African Arts and Culture (FESTAC), first scheduled to hold in 1975, but later postponed to 1977. It really has been that long! Those were the days when governments, both federal and regional, made the necessary investment in the education of their young people and apparently cared what went on in our institutions of learning. The year abroad programme, now being conducted at the French Language Village in Badagry, is a distant cry from what it used to be, and our students now are none the better for it.
Not one single moment of regret has ever been felt over that decision at the age thirteen to make the study of French a lifetime vocation. Equally recalled was the deal struck with my mother whose desire had been that her only daughter would become a doctor. Doctor! How about a doctor who threw up or fainted at the sight of blood? It turned out it did not have to be a medical doctor; just the appellation was all that mattered. So, the deal was struck: the daughter gladly committed to earning a doctorate in linguistic studies. Research brought along wonderful opportunities for travel – and increased competence in the target language. The supervisor of my Masters degree at Cornell University had suggested regular “pilgrimages” to France as a sure way to keep in touch with the language, and I had wondered whether that would be affordable, coming from a third-world country as I did. Academic research opened that door.
Hopefully, nobody is thinking by now: “What a brainwashed Francophile!” Not at all. Among the images that came up and the memories relived was the racist attack suffered while visiting a park in Besanon. A man had fired a tomato at me with a projectile-launching device from his tenth or eleventh floor apartment. Locals said I was lucky; the previous week when a similar incident had occurred, it was a real bullet. The issue is, which part of the world is totally safe – Nigeria? Yes, innocence lost; but my attitude is: commit your ways to God and go about enjoying the gift of life.
So, while congratulating France and her citizens on the occasion of their fete nationale, I say to my own compatriots: how about learning some French and opening up your world a little bit more?
