Two Different Languages Two Different Me

“Wu co ehou, ye wu hon yie sedia umo be pe wa sem”

“Ahni me ye”

It was the first day of school, and I was sitting in my living room. This was before we had changed the floor so the floor was a very dark reflective hardwood. I remember looking at my reflection in the floor when my dad said that sentence. Ever since I was 5 years old he said the sentence in or native language “twi” because I knew almost nothing in English. He told me that, “When you get to school you should be good so that people will like you.” You see my family was very new to America at this point. My father and mother had both left Ghana after my birth and came to America, in a attempt to give me a better life. I myself spent only spent 3 years in Ghana before I was brought to America. In Ghana I learned the language of “twi”. The same way a baby grows up hearing English, and picks it up was how “twi” was for me.  I attended school in Ghana which only furthered my knowledge of the language. I became “Ghanaian” in the sense that all I knew was Ghana.

I nodded my head to show that I had both heard what he said and understood. My dad then drove me to the school so that I could start my first day of kindergarten. The car ride to school was silent but emotions raced around my mind as if they were baby bunnies that had consumed sugar filled carrots. I was afraid to be in a new environment, but happy to make new friends. I was sad to not be able to do nothing all day, but excited to finally be going to American school.

“be biara en cosu ye!”, Good luck! This is what my dad said as I left the car, but I ignored him and looked for room 27 the place that my dad had told me to go. As I walked to class I started to realize how scared I was. I had never been in this environment before and it truly terrified me. As I searched for room 27, this fear started to bring tears to my eyes. Eventually I ended up on the floor silently crying till a lady came to me. She sat on the floor with me and patted my back in an attempt to comfort me. After 5 minutes of her consoling me she rose up and helped me up as well, then she asked if I needed help.

“I room 27” my broken English was a product of what I had seen on T.V. and the little I had been taught in Ghana. Luckily the lady walked me to the classroom which for some odd reason was located on the second floor. Once we entered the class the lady gave me to the teacher and explained why I was late. After the lady left the teacher asked me what was my name to which I responded;

“Opoku”, then she said

“Where are you from?”

“Ghana.” I replied. The teacher then nodded her head and told me to wait for the ESOl teacher to come take me. Eventually the teacher, a man that I would later call Mr. Owens, arrived. He then took me to a small little room on the third floor where a variety of little kids where. The room contained kids, of a variety of ethnicity. Mr. Owens guided us into all sitting in a circle, then we all introduced each ourselves and started playing games such as Hokey Pokey.

It wouldn’t be till first grade that I would realize E.S.O.L stood for English for Speakers of Other Languages. Mr. Owens taught us the language of English by using games and music. But while he was teaching me English I realized that he was also indirectly teaching us how to be American. The games and music where American games and music, this caused me to start listening to american music, reading american books, and of course speaking the american language. I was truly becoming American, but only in school. At home, or even with my family, everything was in Twi. This was mostly because my parents were fluent in twi so in order to talk to them I could only speak twi. At school I found myself acting more and more American while at home I was acting Ghanaian. It was as though the moment I entered my house an internal switch was flipped from American to Ghanaian.

I started to realize that Language is the basis of your identity. Language is more than just words, it is a collection of letters that when put together in a specific matter, and said in a specific matter reveals who you are. In every country you can identify where someone is from based on how they speak. For example it is possible for a Philadelphian to identify a Texan based on their repeated use of the words y'all and their accent. The way the Texan uses specific words has allowed him to be given the idea of what we call a Texan. This statement is supported by a quote Rita Mae Brown once said; “Language is the road map of a culture. It tells you where its people came from and where they are going.” Thus proving that language is the basis of our identity because both the words we use and the way we use them can reveal ourselves. Our accents show that we are foreign, our abbreviations show that we are southern, and our slang show that we are young.