Babel

Grafitti, the language of the living in Spain.

Nigeria is landlocked by Francophone countries, yet we (Nigerians) don’t explore these countries or take the French language seriously.

Cameroon is in the South East, Niger and Chad in the North and Benin Republic to the West of Nigeria. We cannot get out of Nigeria by road without crossing Francophone territory.

I studied French at University and even I often forget it, but this trip has reminded me of an urgent need to buff my French until it shines.

My mother (and Professor Mabogunje who encouraged me to study the language) will be happy to learn that my smattering French helped me, and the group on this trip from Benin Republic to Morocco and now France.

However, when we were in Spain I vanished into Babellion. Save for agua, gracias and adios, I know no Spanish. I foolishly asked a lady in a pastry store if she spoke English and I deserved the subtle dagger looks she gave me: "What country are you in stupid?"

Spaniard lips moved and the harder I looked the less I understood and the crippling feeling of 'lost in translation' made me deliberate on adding Spanish to the languages I need to learn.

The only inscriptions I understood were the brilliant inscriptions of graffiti that colored Spain from Algeciras to Irun. After two days in Madrid, we set out again gliding through high and low altitudes of the Spanish Mountains.

From 825m-5m above mean sea level, my ears finally popped when we approached a derelict toll both and the toll collector said words that I understood “Il a paye!” Captain NJ had paid for our toll and I was now in France. Those words had me bouncing around in my seat as I drove into France like French was my mother tongue or that I had never heard French spoken.

French signs warn me of imminent danger; signs that may have been in Spain as well but that I couldn’t understand.

We drive into Pau and lodge in Hotel Mercura, and behind our table, an English woman with a curious German accent soothes the ache in my ears with her crisp soft English words. M. Joshua, Titi and I speak Yoruba and border on being rude, just to remind ourselves that we can speak our delicious language. French, English and Yoruba; these languages are the balm for my homesickness.

First fussless signs of Welcome into France from Spain.



Spanish Bull.