Page 8 - Language and Literacy Project StoryBook

“I do not understand you! You will regret this one
day, when your language is lost and none of your children
can speak,” said my father in desperation.

“I would rather my language to be lost than for my
children to be laughed at.” The pain in my mother’s voice
seemed to demand finality, an end to the conversation.

At my young age, I could not have understood why
my language was such a point of controversy. I thought
that Igbo was beautiful and interesting, and I asked my
mother to teach me whatever she was willing to let me
learn.

I continued to listen to my parents speak quietly about
another topic of conversation, sliding in and out of Igbo
and English fluidly. The two languages blurred together
in my mind; as I translated, the barrier between the two
languages were almost indiscernible. I fell asleep listening
to a language that was neither English or Igbo, but a
curiously beautiful conglomerate of the two.

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