IN CONVERSATION

                             BY    KANCHANAMALA SANTHANAM

I am Anthony Baphotidjin.” He said curtseying to me. His last name might as well have been Rumpelsitltskin   He must have sensed the perplexity the sound of his last name caused in me, so he added, like a benevolent teacher encouraging a backward pupil,  “Madam, you can call me Tony” That was my first meeting with Tony. I was impressed.

When my husband’s assignment took us to Nigeria, I was relieved to know that I didn’t have to struggle learning a new language, as the lingua franca here was English.  And here was proof of it in the form of Tony. Life was certainly going to be easy in the area of communication. At that time I was blissfully oblivious to what awaited me.

At this stage it is important for you to take a peek into Tony’s personality and occupation.

If a situation demanded him to fill a form and you happened to stand next to him at this time you can catch him writing ‘ Steward par excellence’ against, ‘ Occupation’. Well, that is what he considered himself to be. Born a Nigerian in to the Igbo tribe, he had mastered the art of Indian cooking so well that in his opinion, he was on par with the Indian culinary king Sanjeev Kapoor whose TV show he regularly watched But he exhibited very little alacrity for all other mundane household chores. He probably considered it beneath him.

Conversing with him was hilarious and at times made me helpless; because we were two persons divided by the same language in a hopeless attempt to communicate with each other. We desperately needed an interpreter most times. Here are some of my experiences

It was my first day in Lagos. I decided to find what plans Tony had for lunch. In an attempt to open the conversation I asked him, “ Have you cut the vegetables Tony?” He shot back, “ I never cut vegetables”. I was jolted.  In Africa, the astonishing size of men has the habit of pervading in to the vegetable kingdom too. Giant potatoes and plump green okras, resting with a smug look on the kitchen table appeared to throw a hefty challenge to my orifice. I certainly couldn’t handle them if they were not going to be cut down to size. I contemplated skipping lunch; but I was famished by lunchtime. However when lunch was served potatoes and okras were having the last laugh as the perfectly cut slices jeered me from the serving dish. I wondered why Tony had been so vehement about never cutting vegetables. Well, the answer was simple. In Tony’s parlance ‘never’ was a word without fizz, a substitute for the simple, harmless No!  My vocabulary lesson had begun.

Tony guarded his kingdom- the kitchen – zealously and hated any foreign invasion. So I decided to take up gardening. His friend  ‘Sunday’- apparently he maintained this name all the seven days of the week- was an excellent gardener and Tony went to fetch him. After sometime, Tony returned and announced (you need to listen carefully here) “Sunday don(’t) come.” (He pronounced don’t with a silent ‘t’). However standing next to him grinning from ear to ear, large as life, was someone who very much looked like an ardent gardener. I was completely confused, so I echoed, “ Don’t come? Who is this?” Enlightenment took its time.   Here is the relevant page from Tony’s dictionary:

Don’t – pronounced with a silent ‘t’ denotes completion of any action.

Nothing negative there, I realized. So now I am with Tony when he utters such sentences, as “I don’t wash clothes. Rain don’t stop.”  I know that Tony has completed washing clothes and the rain has stopped!!

Sheila, my friend from the land of Queen’s English decided to pay me a visit. Tony exhibited excellent culinary skill in the welcome dinner and impressed this Londoner. The next day she went marketing and bought some lovely apples. She gave two of them to Tony and asked him to ‘chop’ them. In reply, Tony bent low and thanked her and disappeared in to the kitchen. When I entered the dining room I found Sheila wearing an eager hungry look waiting for Tony. But there was no sign of Tony for a good twenty minutes. “ What did you ask Tony to do with the apples?” I asked Sheila. She replied, (hungrily)  “ To chop them.”  I advised Sheila to forget the apples; ‘Chop’ meant ‘eat’ in Tony’s lingo! Naturally he had executed the order to the letter. By now the apples would have commenced the journey of his digestive system, I assured her. Sheila roared with laughter as she recalled the way he had thanked her profusely.

Here let’s sneak a quick look in to Tony’s vocabulary list:

Now-now - conveys the same meaning as ‘ at once,’ but be sure to say it in quick succession to get across the urgency of the situation.

  Dash-          make a request from someone, often for money.

Usage- Dash me five dollars. You can of course use a higher denomination if the person being addressed is rich.

(You see it has nothing to do with a splash, a crash or a bang.)

Small-    everything and almost anything that is not big.

Sample sentences:

Drink small water. Cook small rice. Heat it small. Add small sugar. I need small rest. He got angry small. 

That was just a glimpse! I am still learning to communicate as well as comprehend this language called English that is spoken in this part of the world by people like Tony.

I better close Tony’s book now because I think I hear some strange noise- I am sure it is my English teacher stirring in her grave.