Kai Yea Gaw Ma

When Ann and I walk our regular route to downtown, we pass by the same clusters of little kids.  “Hello,” they say greeting us.  We respond “Hello”” or “Good afternoon.” Often they will smile and hold out their hands so that we can press our palms together in a Salone version of a “high five.”  Sometimes the conversation is extended when they ask, “How are you?”  I usually reply, “I am fine. How are you?”   They say, “Fine,” and the talk ends there, except for a possible, “Goodbye” traded as we go past.  

“Hello.  How are you? I am fine. Goodbye.” That Is the extent of our English conversations with children on the street.  Ann and I thought we could at least master this simple verbal exchange in the local language and perhaps graduate to more complicated interactions.  So, we hired Mr. Brima, a colleague of Ann’s in the English department, to help us learn rudimentary Mende.

Mr. Brima gives a few Mende pointers to  Ann.

The language is named after the Mende people, the predominant tribe of southern and eastern Sierra Leone.  It turns out to be a much harder language for us to learn than Krio, the Jamaican sounding English variant that we studied in Port Loco our first two weeks in this country. Even the language of the Temne people of the north is much different than Mende.  We were starting from scratch when we moved south.

[Feel free to skip the next paragraph if you are not into phonetics.]

Peace Corps Salone puts out an 84-page Mende language manual.  We are using it to guide our lessons.   The first thing the manual explains is that there are four major dialects, so the Mende spoken in Kenema is different from the Mende spoken in Bo, 40 miles down the road.  The written language has 31 different letter symbols, 17 single consonants, 7 blends (digraphs), and 7 vowels.  The seven vowels are: a as in Arnold, e as lei, i as in tiki, o as in bold, u as in tutu, e as in bet, and ɔ as in the “ough” sound in thought. (I have trouble with this last one called the open o.  It is very similar to the "aw" sound in law.) The “e” sounds like a long “a” and the “i” sounds like a long “e”, as in some French words. As far as the consonants go, you can forget about: c, q, r, x, and z.  Those do not exist in Mende writing.  To the 16 English consonants that remain Mende adds the consonant h, the sound you here at the end of the English word sing. The digraphs are: gb, kp, mb, nd, ng, nj, ny.    The first three sound alike to me (the “b” sound), but Mr. Brima can tell the difference. As for the last four, I just forget about the n in front.  Folks around here will just have to get used to my own version of Mende.  If they ask me where I learned to speak the language, I will tell them I am from a little known Mende enclave in western Wisconsin, USA that has its own distinct dialect.  

Mende has synonyms, just like English.  For example, the funny looking word kpekpe (bebe to me) means “cockroach” or “to sieve.”  Adding to the complexity of learning Mende, is the fact that it is a tonal language. The way you say a word could change its meaning.  “Nyande” means “What do you want?” if you end the word making your voice rise at the end.  If your voice falls in frequency at the end, the word means “beauty.” And of course there are all sorts of slurring and contracting of words that make understanding someone difficult.  Another thing about the language is that Mende words always end in a vowel.  The locals have difficulty pronouncing Ann’s name, partly because it ends in the double n sound.  She has decided that Anna is just fine.  Sometimes this is changed to Hannah, because that is a common Mende name. Our last name would be Liki.  I am more likely to called Dawn instead of Don.  My first day here, I tried to help Muhammed, an older daytime security guard here, remember my name by saying it was like Donald Trump.   I tried to get him to call me Donald (No Trump) Leake, but somehow to my chagrin he mostly forgets the No part.  Maybe like many Americans he just couldn't say no to Trump.

Here are a few words and phrases that I have learned so far.

Kayei Ngewɔ ma (Kai Yea Gaw Ma) means “Thanks be to God,” but most people around here translate it as “No problems.”  It is a general response to “How are you?” but can be used in a variety of situations.  Usually as I walk down the street, adults will not try to engage me in conversation.  If they do, it is in English or sometimes French.  However, the other day when I passed a man going the same way he said something in Mende.  I didn’t know what he said, so I just kept walking.  He repeated it and then said to me in English “How are you?”  I pulled out the trusty “Kayei Ngewɔ ma” from my very limited Mende vocabulary and that brought a smile to his face. Every time I have used this phrase, it has generated goodwill.  I think most Mende speakers realize that it is a tough language for foreigners to master, so they are pleased with any effort on our part to adopt some part of their culture.

Baika (Bike ah) means “God bless you.”  You use it when someone does a favor for you, such as simply passing the salt at the table.  It is an all-purpose way of saying “thank you.” When Veronique, the housekeeper for our guest house, leaves for home after her hour of work, I always try to give her a “baika.” If you don’t want to bring God into the thank-you, you can use “bi sie.” (bee see eh). 

Bi wua (Bee wah) This phrase is used so often that is gets contracted into a single word “bua.” For some reason this reminds me of something that a Jesse Ventura impersonator would say.  It means, “This is the first time I have seen you today, how are you doing?” So, generally it is used in the morning, but can be used at other times of the day.  “Good afternoon” is “bia naa” (bee a naah) and “good evening” is “bi luvaa.” (bee loo vaa).  The double vowels just mean you stretch the sound out a bit longer.

Ke ta mia (keh tom  me ah) is an easy way to sign off on a conversation.  It means roughly, “See you later.”

Ann and I are up to page 17 in our Mende manual. Here is a Mende conversation that I did for homework this week.  It is between Swaray and Hassan, the names of two of my students. 

S: Bia naa, ndiamɔ.  Good afternoon, my friend.

H: Aa Swaray, bi wua. Bi sie. Gbeva bi gaahu? Yes, Swaray, good to see you. Thanks for asking. How are you?

S: Kayei Ngewɔ ma, ɔ bia.   No problems, and you?

H: Nya gaahubuangɔ. I am doing well.

S: Baika.  Mua lɔɔ bɔma. God bless you.  We shall see each other again.

H: Ke ta mia. Later.

The fruit market is one place where we practice our Mende.

Since I am a math teacher, I am especially interested in the Mende number system.  The first ten counting numbers are: ita or yila, fele, sawa, naani, lɔɔlu, weita, wɔfla, wayakpa, taalu, and puu.  Eleven is puu mahu yila, twelve is puu mahu fele, …. Twenty is nuu gbɔyɔngɔ which translates literally as one complete person (with all their fingers and toes).  Thirty-six is nuu gbɔyɔngɔ mahu puu mahu weita. Forty is two complete people – nuu fele gbɔyɔngɔ.   This pattern continues until one hundred (hondo yila).  Mr. Brima says that it is debated whether this is an original Mende word or it is borrowed from English.  

Here are two Mende math problems especially for Mr. Young’s fourth grade class at Rocky Branch.

1) My age in Mende is nuu sawa gbɔyɔngɔ mahu naani.  How old am I?  

2) How many total legs do weita kpekpe (cockroaches) and fele kasuri (spiders) have? Please write your answer in Mende.