Nazali yekola na Lingala. I am studying Lingala.
I have happened upon a (rather ancient) book and so begin my studies. It is, amazingly, a translation from English to Lingala, which is ever helpful. I have no doubt I could continue with one from French to Lingala but this version serves as a great beginning. I can spend my time trying to remember the Lingala and not worrying if I've gotten the right French translation.
The words and phrases have begun to make sense to me. I was even able to construct a few of my own sentences. It is like a a great mystery becoming revealed. What fun to try out my sentences on whoever is closest and watch their face light up in surprise. Everyone is great help, laughing at my mangled pronunciation and offering advice. For now, it is easiest for me to begin with the book, to see it in writing and understand the construct.
Most challenging is the conjugation (of all words, not just verbs.) There is a prefix that changes the word at the beginning and also one at the end. It really seemed confusing at first, to start out with a verb - loba (to speak) and end up with- nalobaka (I {always} speak...). Its like the word is buried in the middle and you have to find it. It is a different habit to change the beginning of the word, but I think many African languages do this. The word for child, mwana, becomes 'bana' in the plural children. This, while completely and endlessly fascinating to a language hound like me, is the least of the curiosities.
The manual I have borrowed is from 1963. It is called a basic course, and was put out by the department of state. The key to understanding both cultures lies in the translations and selected phrases.
For example, I am perplexed about the included phrase:
Atutani na nzete - He walked into a tree.
I haven't heard of this happening since I've been here, perhaps it is a local affliction occurring in a different part of the city? Perhaps the mondele, unaccustomed to the frequent power outages, needed some time to learn the intricate landscape?
More intriguing,
Alongolaki bilamba na yo ntango nazalaki kolia.
He undressed while I was eating.
I've never had need for a statement of this sort, but perhaps in Kinshasa, all things are possible.
Finally, and most telling are the words appearing in Lingala followed by a near paragraph of possible translations. There are always more English possibilities. It leaves me with a myriad of questions I am compiling for an unfortunate tutor once I am ready.
Mbanda appears initially as the word for 'co-wife, a brother-in law on the wife's side or sister-in-law on the husband's side,' but then expands to include 'people who don't like each other.'
I should think the definition alone would be a strong argument against the practice of multiple wives. And I wonder what is the word for the odd situation when 2 co-wives might actually get along..... Should they continue calling each other mbanda? Or can they get away with moninga (friend?)
There are comic entries on how to handle a run in with the police and also many phrases to do with the military. They seem placed in random order so that when reading through you will find something like:
The soldiers surrounded the village.
The soldiers are polishing their shoes.
This soldier shined his uniform buttons.
From the dramatic to the mundane. There are sections on auto mechanics, buying food, talking to servants and road work. Interspersed are necessary sections about doctors, illness, death, soldiers and natural disasters. The formality and politeness of the time is evident throughout, but especially so:
Just a minute, I'd like to tell you how we used to suffer.
As if such a discussion might occur in passing, while pricing fruit at the market.
More forceful language is 'scene' in the description of a run-in with police.
Apparently, you (the learner) have been pulled over. You don't begin the conversation well, asking the officer if you've killed someone. (Somehow, I imagine the manual taking on a sarcastic tone.) The officer responds that you must not have seen the light (back when there traffic lights in Kinshasa, I assume.)You progress to make the situation worse by stating that you don't see very well, you don't have your license because you've only just begun to drive and the car doesn't belong to you. Finally, you ask how much of a 'fine' you should pay. The officer asks if you have 1,000 francs in your pocket right now (clearly inflation has hit Kinshasa.) Unfortunately, you don't have the money but offer to make a deposit. This lesson ends with the police officer making a grand statement:
Boy, if you don't want to go to jail, shut up and follow me. And that's final!
The meek reply: I understand you, Officer.
The boys and I have had great fun trying to wrap our tongues around all ng's and zali loka's. There seems to be an abundance of n's, g's and k's. For now, many of the words seem strikingly similar. I imagine that will all clear up with time and practice. Though I'm not sure exactly when I might have cause for:
Soko simsi na ngai eyaki mbindu te, kana nakei kotala monganga
If my shirt hadn't gotten dirty, I would go see the doctor.
Maybe it wouldn't have happened if he'd undressed while I was eating.
I have, intentionally but without malice, left all the accent marks off the Lingala.
