The Art of Inarticulation

by Slok Gyawali 10 July 2009

It amazes me to see how inarticulate I am in Nepali. My writing skills are deplorable, my reading is slow and unsteady, and my speaking could use a lot of work. Although I speak and understand my language, I wish I was better. The sad thing is I am not alone in this rather shameful situation. I see this epidemic all around me. Not many people educated in the English medium can even consider Nepali their first language. Many of us are most comfortable speaking and understanding the adulterated version of Nepali, but would we prefer to read or write an article in Nepali or English? Not many of us can converse in Nepali using only “Nepali” words. The question is –is the middle class urban Nepali losing their ability to communicate in Nepali?

I challenge the readers of this magazine to speak 15 sentences in Nepali without using an English word. Or if that’s too easy, write 15 sentences in Nepali and see how long it takes, and now do the same in English. I am sure the latter was a lot quicker.

So what went wrong? Weren’t we always proud (and loud) about our identity? Wasn’t our identity one thing that we never compromised; and yet we find it difficult to communicate in our own language?

Since primary school, English is of prime importance. Nepali becomes secondary, and sadly the vernaculars have no spot. The use of this uninformed education policy has lead to the extinction of many vernaculars, while producing a generation of educated Nepalis who consider English their language of choice. Kathmandu, which on average has a higher literacy rate than the rest of the country, also houses the largest number of people who prefer English over Nepali. So even if the educated urban youth comes to power, many in that demographic will have difficulty communicating in Nepali. Kathmandu dwellers will have once again alienated themselves from the rest of the country.

The previous generation grew up in awe of the English language. Those who could speak, read and write it were granted more opportunities. It was one sure ticket to a good job. This attitude, coupled with globalization, fostered this generation of English-speakers. This trend continued, implanting within this generation the English learning zeal. Music, news and television all aided in the dominance of English. Writing in English seems normal, while writing in Nepali seems exotic. Nepali has been reduced to the contaminated form we usually speak. Everyday the art of writing Nepali gets lost among SLC books and the old manuscripts that grandpa reads.

Many of us were angry (this scribe included) when our vice president took the oath of office in Hindi. Speaking in Hindi was blasphemy, but if he would have done the same in English, would that have brought about a similar outcry? Is English “cooler” than Hindi? Or is it the whole hatred of India? Let’s face it: more people in Nepal understand Hindi than English. Have we been so blinded by our awe of the English language that we’ve forgotten that it is still a foreign language like Hindi, Korean or Swahili? So why the different standard?

I can not help but admit that English helps, not just when it comes to education and communication with the outside world. It would be preposterous (and hypocritical) to suggest that we should stop studying English. English helps you to read books and understand things that have not been translated. Learning English is a door to the rest of the world; it is the world’s lingua franca. However, let’s not forget to teach ourselves our own language. Let’s not let any of our beautiful vernaculars die in the shadows of English. Rex Harrison once sung as an irritated linguist “Norwegians learn Norwegian; the Greeks have taught their Greek”, and I am sure he would have wanted the Nepali to learn their Nepali.

We vent our much justified anger at anything and anybody who disrespects our culture, tradition and heritage but have our own hands bloody with the slow murder of our language, literature and with them, a very important part of our Nepali identity.