Growing up, I never thought that speaking English in public spaces could be a problem or make one feel out of place one day. Raised by a pair of teachers, my parents were not in a position to afford the most prestigious education for us. Still, they ensured that we sharpened our English vocabulary from a very tender age. My weekend activities included reading novels, writing compositions, and holding quizzes among ourselves at home (perks of having many siblings). I read and owned so many Ladybird books than I can remember. This was the fun part of my childhood. Now can you imagine the un-fun side of my upbringing? One of my favourite movies is ‘Akilah and the Bee’; a movie about a little girl who, despite her modest background, spells her way to national platforms and wins several prizes. There was no surprise there, as I spent countless hours spelling words to my mum (the judge) while we carried out house chores like cooking. She also always introduced a new proverb that suited daily events. She’d remind me that the early bird catches the worm if I woke up late. There was no way I would forget that proverb because it directly applied to current events. I genuinely enjoyed these moments, and I can affirm that her efforts helped me develop my vocabulary and speech very early. Yes, we didn’t learn Kinyarwanda growing up because my parents found it safer for the family if their culture, language, and even names were disguised. I came to ‘gutaha’ (relocate to country of origin). For my parents, it was a moment of celebration because even though my very old grandmother could not achieve her dream of returning to her home country, Rwanda, her granddaughter managed to live the dream on her behalf. I have enjoyed being a citizen of this beautiful nation, with the numerous opportunities that come with it. However, there is one thing that baffles me to this day. Do you ever feel guilty about speaking English in public spaces? This could be with service providers, institution receptions, or even house parties. I know many of my peers whose language of expression at home, school, and even in playgrounds was English while growing up. Blame it on colonisation. It is, therefore, a little hard to make a U-turn when the same person joins a country that uses its mother tongue as the majorly spoken language. This will be found in boardrooms, churches, and in some rare cases, emails. One of the most challenging things is learning a new language as an adult. Many years later, I felt proud of my Kinyarwanda. When necessary, I would confidently kick off a conversation, haggle, and even communicate through emails using Kinyarwanda. The first response I’d receive was, ‘uri umunyarwanda se?’ (are you Rwandan), or even worse, some people would ask, ‘uri umugande (are you Ugandan)?’ Even a twisted mind-set is that those with broken Kinyarwanda hate their language or culture. This is ridiculous. People were created with different abilities and skills, and fluent learning of other languages also varies from person to person. It is refreshing to talk to people who will listen to your not-perfect accent and not make any funny assumptions in response. I strongly encourage this manner because it promotes inclusion and rules out any self-doubt from the speaker. Public speaking is already scary enough; how much more if the audience can’t wait to question one’s nationality at the first chance? I have witnessed non-Rwandans who come to visit or even live in our beautiful nation. The applause and cheering offered to them when they try to say a few Kinyarwanda words is heart-warming. I avoided using the word ‘dramatic’. If only returning Rwandans (from all parts of the world) would be given the same encouragement instead of the judgement, perhaps things would be much better.
