Matching
Matching in a match not in March is not much.
Some languages are finer than others. And I know that since language is part of culture that statement alone may come off as offensive. Or hypocritical, since I am an African writing in English which is not African, and is well, English. But the finesse of a language is not a matter of the skin of the colour of the people who spoke it first. I hold for instance, that Swahili is a finer language to Polish. And English is a finer language to Spanish.
The finesse of a language is a product of how the language came to be — what language family is it a part of, what use has it had in history, how it interacted with other languages as people from different cultures mingle, and ultimately how robust it is in allowing you to express a thought. English being both a Germanic and a Latin language means that for any thought you want to express, you have two registers to work with, and the words never mean exactly the same. A lad is not the same as a boy. What is kingly is not the same as what is regal. Although both can be used by different communicators, they allow depth that other languages may not permit.
English also is finer for the reason that it is more physical that other languages — it permits you to express a physical situation better. In this aspect, (this is me speaking not the Lord) Swahili does better than any other Bantu language, and better than most Semitic languages. Language at core is a means of communication, and cultural context carries into any language. In Citrusdal, the friend and co-owner of the lady who owned the place we slept in, was a gentleman named Calla. He had been a helicopter pilot in Tanzania in the 80s and early 90s.
He is versed in Afrikaans. I am similarly in Swahili. What allowed us to have a conversation was a common language, English. In a few minutes, we knew that he was an owner of an auto works garage, and since we towed one car into the city, he was exactly the man we needed. After my morning routine, Daniel and Daud left with the cars to go to Calla’s garage. The aim was fixing the fuel pump filter, but they soon realized that replacing the w126 shocks would be cheaper here than Cape Town. And since we had started, we decided to get new tires as well.
Because the ordered parts would arrive the next day, a decision was made to spend one more day at Citrusdal. An idea to visit Ceres was floated, but no one of the rest of us who weren’t at the garage went. Nancy brough breakfast, and as we were eating, information came out that I had never seen The Karate Kid (the original 1984 film), although I was well versed with Mr. Miyagi’s wisdom thanks to my friend Ben Owden.
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As we started to watch the film, Eunice, Amanda, and Jemimah came back from looking for SIM cards with those South African grapes that in Tanzanian supermarkets cost so very high, and here they were so ridiculously cheap that that fact alone got us into conversation. We talked about many things, and eventually it dawned on us that we needed a place to sleep tonight. The place we were at only had 1 of the 3 rooms we had available. Me and Nancy walked to Citrusdal Hotel where we had dinner the previous night, and they had options available. On our way back with this good news, we looked at SIM card options for communication.
As the good gentlemen we were, we the guys agreed to stay where we were, and the ladies got an upgrade to the hotel, a room with a balcony, and many other facilities. It seems they enjoyed this very much. It was Daniel who suffered because for the first night, he would be separated from his wife. And because they were also sharing a bag, they had to figure out who stays with the bag and who takes supplies. The guys’ stay was even cheaper than the previous night because we booked without Booking.com
After a nap, us guys watched AFCON Tanzania v. Tunisia match which ended with a 1-all draw, which allowed Tanzania to qualify from the group stage for the first time ever. Eric then went out and brought dinner for the four of us, I imagine at the same time the ladies were fine-dining, or something of that sort. The two places were a walking distance from each other, but we had also noticed that the people of the town smoke cigarettes a lot (there were butts everywhere), that they drink significantly (you’d meet someone drunk after every block), and had concluded that it was not a place for people (read ladies) to walk alone.
So, it was a surprise when Nancy called asking for car keys because she needed some supplies from the car which meant that she had walked to where we stayed alone. I walked her back, and after enjoying their hotel’s lounge bench, I walked back before I grow familiar with what is not mine. I did a call home and spoke with my family as the guys started watching Arsenal v. Aston Villa in the English Premier League, a game which ended with Arsenal winning 4–1. Eric, who is an Arsenal fan enjoyed that match very much since Villa came to the match with an 11-match winning streak. And then people decided to sleep.
Early in the morning of this day, I had noticed that Eunice was wearing a blue jeans and blue top. I also wore a blue jeans and blue shirt. We were matching, by happy accident. Each of the teams that were playing in the matches we had watching, wore matching jerseys. They were matching on purpose. Perhaps the exercise that really improved my use of language as a child, is that of matching. Matching words with pictures. Matching words that related. If you can do much in matching, you can march forward and drive any point home.
Happy Valentines, and as you are probably matching clothes with your love, happy matching too. Secret info has reached me that Daniel and Jemimah have matching kitenge clothes. I’ll share photos when I get them.
