The Joys of Language Learning

Some of our friends have asked us about the task of learning another language so we thought we’d share with you one of the challenges that we face in learning Fulfulde. In English we can often use one adverb to modify several, if not most adjectives. If one wants to say something is very or really a certain way, we can usually just add very or really before the adjective. For example:

It’s very hot (temperature)
It’s very cold today.
It’s very early.

You get the picture of how easy it is in English to modify the meaning. Well, in Fulfulde there are specific adverbs for most adjectives and they’re not the same. In the following examples in Fulfulde, the adverb always follows the adjective (below in italics) and is given a strong vocal emphasis that would merit an exclamation point in English. In English the adverb always comes before the adjective. Here is a short list of the most common examples:

Very white is daneejum tal
Very black is baleejum kurum
Very red is bodeejum coy
Very hot is guldum jaw
Very cold is peewdum delem
Very hard is cattudum kolon
Very stinky is kaaddum rok
Very full is hebbingo tel
Very early is fajiri cub
Very straight is arni cir

So then, in addition to having to learn the basic vocabulary of colors, temperatures, time, etc., if one wants to intensify the meaning, there is a whole separate list of adverbs to learn as well as making sure to apply the correct adjective.

Oh the joys of language learning! Hey, if a child can do it, why can’t we?

Danny and our language helper Adamou.

Souley

The car was full of the scent of freshly-baked baguettes as we made our way from the bakery to our last stop of the day. Heading into the indigenous grain market, we were looking for wheat for making whole wheat flour. Danny stood by the parked car while teammate Kari Downer and I crossed the street to ask. We were sent to several boutiques before we met a young man who signaled us to follow him into a nearby boutique. We went in the front door, then out the back door into another world.

The market here was shaded and uncrowded. Our guide led us to an older man who had displayed bags of grain on his table. This man spoke to our guide, and they both led us deeper in to this strange, “unsafe” market. Kari and I exchanged glances that asked, “Where are they leading us?” “Not too sure about this…” We passed by neat boutiques with similar products as the “tame” market, but more organized and with more variety. I had just bought a coin purse at Nziko, and was passing much nicer looking ones in this aisle.

It was peaceful and cool as we walked through, and there weren’t any puddles. As we walked deeper in, concerned that Danny may be worried by our disappearance, and after stopping at several places to no avail, I told our guide that we would have to come back another day. Actually, I wasn’t confident these guys were honest. He smiled and said, “We’ll find what you’re looking for.”

Finally, we stopped at the table of an old woman who had grain to sell. Her wares were a mélange of grains, only a few of which I recognized. Only then were we asked how much we wanted. When we each said we wanted a few small bowls only, our guides looked at each other and laughed. The older man could have given us what we needed, but thought we wanted a large quantity.

It was fun to witness the friendly banter between the old lady, our guides, and the neighboring vendors as they advised her that the currency I gave her was still good even though worn. Accepting their verdict, she smiled at me as if I were her friend now, too, and of course, tried to interest me in her other products. Then we returned to the older guide’s stall for Kari to buy her wheat. That way, they both earned a little. In a fatherly tone, he counseled me to be sure to tip the younger guide, (customary tip—20 cents), who led us back through the maze to the door of his boutique again.

He crossed the street with us and greeted a relieved Danny with a handshake. I asked him his name, and he told me that he would be happy to help me any time I need something at the market. I’ll be seeing Souley again, and am grateful for his hospitality as we visited his turf.


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It was just another day in the Maroua Market...

We live in Meskine, a small village in the Far North province of Cameroon. We can buy many of the things we need for food right here every Wednesday. Other small items are available every day right outside the walls of our hospital where a small market has sprung up. (That’s a blog entry for another day!) But, if we want produce and canned goods resembling what we get in the US, we have to travel 15 minutes to the provincial capital Maroua.

We shop in the “tame” market that is more expatriate-friendly where there are aisles of little “boutiques”, and I mean little. The smallest bedroom in your house would be larger than most. In these boutiques are fabric, electronics, groceries, housewares, fresh veggies and fruit, clothing—you name it. If you imagine a flea market with lots of small stalls for vendors, you will only begin to get the picture. This is not a place for a claustrophobic as the smaller aisles are no more than 4 feet wide, and often full of shoppers, beggars, vendors, and products being pushed, pulled, or carried (often on the head) to nearby stalls. A metal roof way up overhead lets sunlight and rain in depending on the season. And for some reason, possibly to minimize the dust, the dirt floors are full of puddles. So there are a number of obstacles to maneuver around.

The market is definitely a social event/place/party/job/necessity—kind of like the mall…..with puddles. Usually though, I’m focused on my list, my bag of purchases, my wallet (no plastic here—all cash!) and my surroundings because of pickpockets. In any given trip, I’ll visit four or five veggie and fruit stands, Mahdi’s (the Maroua Walmart, 10’X10’ with products up to the ceiling) or Ibrahim’s (a luxurious 20’ x 30’ with rolling carts!) for more Western products, the bakery for bread, Nziko for office supplies, a vendor on the street that sells small, roasted chickens (dubbed “parakeets” because of similar size), and occasionally a visit to a fabric store to buy material to give to a tailor for a new dress.

No trip is complete without a visit to the indigenous market which is more open and a little more risky as a result. Here we pass tables piled with slabs of freshly butchered beef, goat, and lamb meat with the ever-present fly population buzzing around them. The first stop is usually for meat to get the best selection and the least-visited by flies. A little deeper in the market we find fresh veggies like eggplant, zucchini, peppers, cabbage, mint, fresh ginger, and sometimes even apples--things that are sold in the “tame” market, but with lower prices here. As I was buying a pineapple, I was speaking Fulfulde to my vendor. Not having heard me, a fellow next to him asked him why he was speaking Fulfulde to me, a white person. When I stared at him with my laser beam look, he sheepishly asked, “ Oh, do you understand Fulfulde? Heh, heh.” Although I have much to learn about shopping in Fulfulde, it is a wonderful bridge-builder to friendly shopping here. and maybe even better prices.

This is usually as far as I have ever gone into the indigenous market because of the “unsafe” reputation other expatriates have given it. So how did I later find myself deep in the heart of this place against my better judgment?

Meet me here tomorrow and I’ll finish the story!

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