I come from a community where the perception used to be as follows: once one attends western school, one becomes an idiot, i.e. the individual loses his roots, even becomes unable to understand his mother tongue. My own experience was painful, first of all in terms of languages. The first language I remember I consciously came to speak in Kabwita was not my own language it was Kiyaka. When my family moved from Kabwita to Mutoni, a Suku village, I could finally practice my mother tongue. But a year later, my family went further to Makiosi, a village where Kiyaka and Kipelende were spoken. I was confused once again. Another year later I came to the city of Kenge where Kikongo ya Leta was spoken. The only language I could really master under those circumstances was French, because it was the only language I continuously learnt. Nowadays I can hardly write in Kisuku, but I can write in Kikongo, the reason being that Kikongo is more written, the liturgical language of the diocese of Kenge that employed me for twenty years. French remains my main language of communication.
Although I know the tradition quite well, I always regret I could never master the proverbs of my tribe. I rarely lived the life of a village because my parents purposely avoided such opportunities. An évolué of the colonial time, my father was proud to see me rather speak French.
I guess this is the case for many people of my generation. We cannot speak in proverbs, maxims or apophthegms nor can we use the finest expressions of our mother tongues. We sometimes express ourselves much better in Kikongo, Lingala or French – a colonial language – than in our original native language. Our African background has been devastated and annihilated by the western brainwashing, accurately inoculated in us since the first day of school.
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