I No Be Britiko.

Update:
Pammy is currently at the point where she loves her job, will it change in a few months who knows? I should be putting some new pictures up from last weekend but...hmmmm...hehehehehehe

That said.....

--------------------------------------
For those that have been following my blog since day one - I told a brief story of my birth and how I got to be called the Uni Jos baby. I mentioned briefly that when my mom went to Uni, her original intent was to become a vet but rather her love of books took over and she ended up getting her Bachelors in Literature and Psychology and moved on there to get her PhD in something else. Now, because my mom gave birth to me at a very young age, and you know how it is in Naija - I ended up spending a lot of my growing baby years either on campus or very close to campus (Jos and Lagos). Now, at that time because the only people that interacted with my mom were those that were highly educated and basically existed in the university setting, my mom ended up with a British accent(becomes extremely British when she wants to scare you or put you in your place). We all learnt the rules of speaking properly with the correct pronunciation, we learnt how to sound hoity toity.

We knew the rules. No Broken English allowed in the house. In fact, don't even allow the phrase,"I dey come" pass by your brain cells. My mom will recount the amount of money being paid to Corona school for our education and we better SOUND IT.
Fortunately, my friend Obobo was going through the same kind of rules. Her dad, being an author, had already instilled that whole 'hell no' to broken English in her home.

Imagine my surprise when she came back from boarding school and there she was speaking this language that was so beautiful but was definitely a taboo to me and her. I knew that I had to learn this language too. I found a reason to interact more with the "kuli kuli", "balewa", "guguru" and "agege bread" sellers. As I interacted (in the role of a consumer), I found myself learning the language that I knew that I would never be allowed to speak at home. I found myself absorbing this beautiful cadence, the way the words are formed, the way meaning is instilled in a simple, o!


I came to the States - at Rutgers University, I made friends with this Cameroonian girl who could read that ehm, ehm, that I was slightly aje butter and tea. (LOL!). So, when we will be hanging with other Anglophone West Africans, girlfriend will jejely just turn to broken English.

Now, with the amount of education I have acquired and I intend to acquire, I know that I am supposed to wipe my sojourn into the world of Broken English. But, why?? I love broken English. I love being able to type, "i jus dey go jejely, come see how dis bomboy come jam me for road - he jus dey talk, i jus give him face go".

Now, tell me - why should I become bourgeois again??