Thanks for your comments last week. We had a great discussion on the themes of communication, violence, connection, and survival. To recap, I’d like to highlight three students comments from last week’s chat:
Marissa, commenting on the parallels between “Speech Sounds” and the current pandemic:
“Personally, at this present moment, this situation is not too dystopian to me and far away from reality. As hundreds of people have died in the United States due to Coronavirus, and thousands worldwide, there is fear among citizens. Growing up, I used to read novels like this all the time and I often felt anxiety in relation to them, as well as the science fiction genre. I believe this is because it is apparent how science fiction plays on the most grotesque components of humanity. It seems inevitable that pandemics, wars, and famine are universal experience that no one is immune to. However, throughout time, we have prevailed against illness, war, and natural disaster. But, ultimately, times like these make one wonder about all the dystopian tales and the critique on society. The question of our own nature is apparent in these stories. When you strip someone of comfort and title (such as the lack of organizations in Rye’s dystopian world, and how she said there was no longer a police department), how far will people go?”
Hannah, connecting “Speech Sounds” to another dystopian narrative:
Butler’s “Speech Sounds” reminds me of another dystopian narrative, “1984” by Orwell. In Butler’s story, we see that language is important for ideology. “Law and order were nothing—not even words any longer” (Butler 4). Since the world in “Speech Sounds” has no idea of law or order, the words for these concepts disappear. Similarly, in “1984”, the government deletes words from the language in order to brainwash society. I think that we can think of these narratives in relation to one another because they both demonstrate the power of language and the consequences of losing words.
Azhar with a hopeful note on the ending of “Speech Sounds:”
“I feel as if her discovery of children being able to use language reignites her flame to live, and now provides her with a purpose which is all she was longing for. With a purpose in mind, and several resources at her disposal, I believe she can help raise the kids with normalcy and possibly even create a community to create a sense of civilization. In addition, with kids waiting to be taught, Rye gets her life as a teacher back, which will definitely help her cope with the complexity of a post-apocalyptic life.”
Our reading for this week, to quote Hannah’s comment, also centers on “the power of language and the consequences of losing words.” This time however, the loss of language does not take place in the hypothetical future, but in the American past. (Here I use the word “American” to encompass all of the Americas, not just the United States.)
Kamau Brathwaite’s essay “Nation Language” provides a history lesson as well as a manifesto for the future. The lesson begins in 1492, with Columbus’ so-called discovery of the Caribbean and the subsequent “destruction of the Amerindians” and the “fragmentation” of native culture. Brathwaite details the rapid loss of life (due, in part to the spread of viruses brought from Europe) but also the loss of native languages—though some remnants have still survived.
The second wave of linguistic fragmentation came with the slave trade. It’s important first of all to acknowledge the linguistic diversity of Africa (today there are still an estimated 1500-2000 African languages). Enslaved people were not a homogenous group. Those who survived the forced journey over the Atlantic ocean brought their languages with them. And yet, as Brathwaite explains:
“What these languages had to do, however, was to submerge themselves, because officially the conquering peoples—the Spaniards, the English, the French, and the Dutch—insisted that the language of public discourse and conversation, of obedience, command and conception should be English, French, Spanish, or Dutch.” (309)
Part of the strategy of colonial dominance was the forced adoption of European languages. But note the specific way that Brathwaite describes this: “They did not wish to hear people speaking Ashanti or any of the Congolese languages.” Language is not only spoken, but also heard. It is part of the soundscape of the Americas, and a huge part of how we experience the world. To police language is to wield power over what the Americas “sound” like. Nevertheless, as Brathwaite explains, the African languages (and the ideas and values that came with them) did not disappear, but became submerged, continuing to exert a profound influence: “That underground language was itself constantly transforming into new forms” (310)
From this underground language emerges “nation language,” a term Brathwaite uses to describe the oral culture of the descendants of enslaved Africans. Brathwaite, who is from Barbados, critiques the British colonial system that shaped his own early life and education and offers nation language as an alternative mode of expression to standardized English. But given the way that English was violently imposed as a language, an ideology, and a way of life, Brathwaite asks: “can English be a revolutionary language?” (311)
“It may be in English, but it is in an English which is like howl, or a shout or a machine-gun or the wind or a wave. It is also like the blues.”
Edward Kamau Brathwaite was a poet, scholar and philosopher. He completed his schooling in Barbados (the island of his birth) as well as Cambridge and the University of Sussex. His upbringing in Barbados meant that he experienced a colonial education firsthand. The British educational system, Brathwaite writes, “insisted that not only would English be spoken in the anglophone Caribbean, but that the educational system would carry the contours of an English heritage. Hence Shakespeare, George Eliot, Janes Austen—British Literature and literary forms, the models which had very little to do, really, with the environment and reality of non-Europe” (310).
Brathwaite makes a shift from speech to written language in order to emphasize the impact of colonial education on Caribbean writing. He argues, “in terms of what we write, our perceptual models, we are more conscious (in terms of sensibility) of the falling snow, for instance” (310). Aside from the obvious fact that it doesn’t snow in the Caribbean, European perceptual models alienate Caribbean writers from the poetic possibilities of their own environment: “In other words, we haven’t got the syllables, the syllabic intelligence, to describe the hurricane, which is our own experience, whereas we can describe the important alien experience of the snowfall.”
Based on the every-day speech of Caribbean folk, nation language provides an alternative: “It may be in English, but it is in an English which is like howl, or a shout or a machine-gun or the wind or a wave. It is also like the blues.” Nation language, Brathwaite points out, is different from dialect, and in our discussion questions I’ll ask you to explore the significance of that contrast. (311).
According to Braithwaite, nation language:
· Is an oral tradition. “The poetry, the culture itself, exists not in a dictionary but in the tradition of the spoken word. It is based as much on sound as it is on song. That is to say the noise…is part of the meaning, and if you ignore the noise…then you lose part of the meaning.” (311)
· “Largely ignores the pentameter” in favor of the rhythms of the calypso and other local forms (the fact that Brathwaite says “largely” leaves some room for contradiction. We will come back to this.)
· Is a communal form: "it is part of what may be called total expression” demanding “the audience to complete the community.” (312)
Three Examples:
Brathwaite references the calypso singer Mighty Sparrow in his essay. The calypso “Dan is the Man in the Van” (1963) is a critique of the “education you get when you small,” and it also demonstrates the stylistic qualities of nation language: “He is rhyming on ‘n’s’ and ‘l’s’ and he is creating a cluster of syllables and a counterpoint between voice and orchestra, between individual and community within the formal notion of “call and response’ ; which becomes typical of our nation in the revolution” (312).
Next I present to you Louise Bennet’s “Colonization in Reverse.” (1966) Louise Bennett (known as Miss Lou in her home country of Jamaica) was a folk poet, performer, and educator. Her poem “Colonization in Reverse” references Caribbean migration to Europe during what is called the Windrush period (19481970), when over 500,000 Caribbean journeyed to Britain to fulfill labor shortages after WWII:
Wat a joyful news, Miss Mattie,
I feel like me heart gwine burs'
Jamaica people colonizin
Englan in reverse.
By de hundred, by de t'ousan
From country and from town,
By de ship load, by de plane-load
Jamaica is Englan boun.
Dem a-pour out o'Jamaica,
Everybody future plan
Is fe get a big-time job
An settle in de mother lan.
What a islan! What a people!
Man an woman, old and young
Jusa pack dem bag an baggage
An tun history upside dung!
Some people don't like travel,
But fe show dem loyalty
Dem all a-open up cheap-fare-
To-England agency.
An week by week dem shipping off
Dem countryman like fire,
Fe immigrate an populate
De seat o' de Empire.
Oonoo see how life is funny
Oonoo see de tunabout,
Jamaica live fi box bread
Outa English people mout'.
For wen dem catch a Englan,
An start play dem different role,
Some will settle down to work
An some will settle fe de dole.
Jane say de dole is not too bad
Bacause dey payin she
Two pounds a week fe seek a job
Dat suit her dignity.
Me say Jane will never find work
At the rate how she dah look,
For all day she stay pon Aunt Fan couch
And read love-story book.
Wat a devilment a Englan!
Dem face war an brave de worse,
But I'm wonderin how dem gwine stan
Colonizin in reverse.
I feel like me heart gwine burs'
Jamaica people colonizin
Englan in reverse.
By de hundred, by de t'ousan
From country and from town,
By de ship load, by de plane-load
Jamaica is Englan boun.
Dem a-pour out o'Jamaica,
Everybody future plan
Is fe get a big-time job
An settle in de mother lan.
What a islan! What a people!
Man an woman, old and young
Jusa pack dem bag an baggage
An tun history upside dung!
Some people don't like travel,
But fe show dem loyalty
Dem all a-open up cheap-fare-
To-England agency.
An week by week dem shipping off
Dem countryman like fire,
Fe immigrate an populate
De seat o' de Empire.
Oonoo see how life is funny
Oonoo see de tunabout,
Jamaica live fi box bread
Outa English people mout'.
For wen dem catch a Englan,
An start play dem different role,
Some will settle down to work
An some will settle fe de dole.
Jane say de dole is not too bad
Bacause dey payin she
Two pounds a week fe seek a job
Dat suit her dignity.
Me say Jane will never find work
At the rate how she dah look,
For all day she stay pon Aunt Fan couch
And read love-story book.
Wat a devilment a Englan!
Dem face war an brave de worse,
But I'm wonderin how dem gwine stan
Colonizin in reverse.
And finally, "Inglan is a Bitch." (lyrics here.) Linton Kwesi Johnson was a Jamaican pioneer of dub poetry, a form of performance poetry popularized in the 1970s. It is named after dub music, a form of electronic music derived from reggae that mainly consists of “versions” (remixes) of existing songs. Dub poets often perform to musical accompaniment. Think about the politics of remixing (or ‘versioning’) and how it might serve as a metaphor for the way Caribbean poets transform language and ideas. (also, this poem has a great title.)
Discussion Questions:
1. What is the distinction that Brathwaite draws between nation language and “dialect?” and why is this distinction significant? Are these merely different names for the same thing or is Brathwaite trying to call attention to a conceptual difference as well? Be sure to quote the essay in your response.
2. Comment on the critique of British colonialism in “Dan is the Man in the Van” “Colonization in Reverse” OR “Inglan is a Bitch” (or any combination). What strategies do these works use to challenge the dominance of British culture? Be sure to reference a specific example (word choice, sound, structure) in your response.
3. Comment on the relationship between sound and writing in this essay. Brathwaite affirms the spoken word, but writing is obviously a central part of his poetic practice (since after all, we are reading an essay.) Is there a tension between these two forms? How do these two forms work together to produce meaning?
4. Brathwaite writes the nation language largely “ignores the pentameter.” Are we to take him literally on this? After all, we read a Jamaican poet, Claude McKay who does write in pentamer “Tropics in New York”, and also wrote poems in Jamaican patois. Is writing in pentameter (or other Europeans forms) inherently conformist? What are some reasons why Caribbean writers might use both pentameter and nation language?