It was in Matam, in the region of Fouta Toro, an evening of my childhood a long time ago. Resting on a straw mat spread out on the courtyard floor, one of my aunts, my father's oldest sister, kept an audience of teenage listeners captivated as if attached by invisible strings. Each day at dusk, dropping all other activities, her grandchildren would come to drink from the inexhaustible well of stories, legends, proverbs, riddles, and word plays.

A couple of feet from this enchanted circle, two men, the storyteller's sons, would be seated on straight-backed chairs conversing in French. One was a doctor, the other, a teacher. Interrupting herself suddenly, undoubtedly in the middle of the adventures of Samba Geladiégi, the narrator, who didn't understand French would ask her sons, aren't you tired of that? Rest a little. Get down off your chairs and come speak to us in the language of our fathers!

I have always had a vivid memory of that scene. Now allow me to evoke another one that goes back to the same time.

We were in a neighborhood alleyway, not far from where my father lived. I was with my usual playmate, a boy about my same age. It was in Pulaar, our native language, that we spoke to each other, not yet knowing how to speak Frenchthe study of which wouldn't start until a year later. We had already gone through two or three of the games from our daily repertoire when my friend suggested another, "Pretend like you speak French." We immediately started the preparations. Pulling up the wide hem of our traditional robes, we would tighten them around our chests to make a sort of jacket or shirt. Then, rolling the ample pleats of our pants around our legs, we made knickers and European trousers. Next, we got a hold of some ash that we used to endow each other with a white face.

Having successfully accomplished the masquerade, we would try imitating the gestures of the whites when they talked to each other: hands in the pockets, fists on the hips, or arms folded; standing straight or doing a little pirouette around the other. It was only after these preliminary exercises that we felt ready to speak French, or in other words to emit the strange, foreign sounds which, need it be said, had absolutely no significance whatsoever. Regarding these sounds, I should clarify that my friend and I would force each other to articulate them correctly, to produce them with other parts of our mouth, palate, and throat, than those that we used to pronounce the phonemes of our native Pulaar.

The significance of my aunt's fiery quip and of our childhood games is obvious. To pretend to speak French indicated that the execution of such an activity was a desired aptitude and brought along with it a coveted status. This powerful motivation was to become a passport during our entire life as students. Later on, it was to be transformed into the prideful desire to acquire the same degree in French as the whites, because we had the latent conviction that only such a degree would allow us to claim the same qualifications as the whites in careers of medicine, engineering, etc. Our game was also a way of taking note of the differences between French and Pulaar.

Our contrived airs and graces also clearly expressed that for us, the importance of a language's form can't be reduced to a mere linguistic medium but extends to imitation, to style, and to an aesthetic. We were very aware that French is not Pulaar, nor the other way around, and that one shouldn't mixI was going to say genres.

As for my aunt, it went even further than that. It established profound differences. According to her, to speak French is to adopt a life of appropriateness. Therefore, one speaks French, just like one works, in the modern sector, and one speaks Pulaarjust like the farmer, leathersmith, or craftsmanin the traditional way. To speak French one must be standing up, going somewhere, or seated on chairs with the back straight and vertical; if one wishes to take a rest or take part in the joys of family life, it can only be done speaking Pulaar, cross-legged, sitting up or sprawled out on a straw mat on the ground. French is a language of use, practical, utilitarian, functional tool giving access to the modern world, whereas Pulaar is a language of life, a reflection of the Halpulaar peoples' human condition of today and yesterday, the most irreducible means of expressing one's cultural identity. To speak French is on the order of doing and to speak Pulaar, the order of being.
As a group, the Senegalese people of today are not far from sharing these views, if one is to believe Pierre Dumont, formerly the director of the Center for Applied Linguistics of Dakaar (CLAD). Socio-linguistic studies, he has written, have proven that the Senegalese peoples' motivation in learning French has been for a number of reasons: social, professional, economic, and technical, but never linguistic. The use of French is reserved for easily indexed situations, outside of African society.

What has been suggested concerning the respective vocations of Pulaar and of French could also be said with as much truth of other Senegalese people (and Africans in general) and their perception of the relationship that exists between their dialect and that of the Europeans. In its depth, post-colonial Africa considers that it has, on the one hand, languages of identity and culture and, on the other, languages of usefulness and function. The one being original and oral, the other, foreign and written. The African people see, between their dialects and those of Europeans, the same opposition, the same division, but also the same complementary character, as Léopold Senghor puts it, as those that my aunt saw between Pulaar and French.

We will put under scrutiny this latent intuition in the African people in order to evoke its truth because, as is often the case, intuition and its prophetic nature is more accurate when it springs forth from the people. This serene, realistic vision of the neo-African cultural landscape, the consequence of its history, contains in itself, imprinted like a watermark, the important lines that sketch the future that the governing elite will have to strive to faithfully build. The socio-cultural terrain with which we are concerned here is vital, fundamental; and the time to accomplish the necessary work in this area is limited. It is, therefore, advisable that the political and intellectual leaders avoid all of the errors of excess or default, the reckless improvisations or the fearful abstentions. To achieve such a reality, they have no better teacher and guide than the people.

Therefore, I will explain what I understand, and what I mean, by this unexpressed discourse of the Senegalese people concerning the crucial question of languages.
Before the white men landed on the country's shores, penetrated the interior lands, and imposed their laws and languages, the Senegalese people were neither nonexistent nor mute. They lived off their own substance, and their languagesthe exact reflection of their way of lifeexpressed it more adequately and more perfectly than any other language.

Then the white men came from across the sea. The historic clash of these two worlds was devastating and left behind no aspect of the former way of life. The cold witness of history, devoid of both love and hate, attests to the defeat and submission of the Senegalese. It isn't that they didn't resist valiantly on all the confrontational fronts. The fact is that, just or unjust, they were defeated. There are better things to do, thought the people, than shed tears and brood over one's bitterness.
It is necessary to take a clear look at the weapons that assured the European victory. In the area of linguistics, what greater efficiency and importance than to substitute French in the place of Senegalese languages to declare the law, to express knowledge, and to facilitate exchange? Instead of protesting French and claiming to eradicate itas an irrational person would be tempted to dothe Senegalese chose to send their students to school in search of this language. The choice was so frank and so overwhelming that schools proved to be weak and insufficient, managing to neither accommodate the large number of applicants, nor to give them intellectual and spiritual food in the spirit of an undertaking of mutual civilization.

The Senegalese people, solidly entrenched in their original languages, which had been for a long time their only means of communication, undertook, by their own volition, to learn, master, and use the French language. This movement in the present time is a deliberate act of will whose motive is perfectly clear. It has to do with acquiring a useful tool that makes the upheavals caused by the shock of both the future and the past indispensable. Senghor explains to us that we are present for an encounter of giving and receiving, to give and to receive, in an exchange that would cease to be unequal, and which, for the benefit of all, would draw from the best characteristics of all sides. If the dialogue of the Senegalese people is, from a linguistic perspective, the one we have just suggested, let us pause to more profoundly consider it; we can then glean the teachings required in order to define the best course of action.

The most visible and spectacular element in this panorama is the great, viable presence of national, traditional languages in their survival, despite a long and unfair confrontation with a powerful language endowed with the weapon of writing.

The blacks of Africa are not the only non-European people to have been openly beaten with the whip of a calamity-ridden history. The miracle is that they did not disappear, as others have done, and that not only have they survived, but that they still live, grow, and prosper. I see the secret of this vitality of men and their cultures in one specific quality unique to their civilization. This secret, their fountain of youth, is that there is a unique and privileged tie that exists between oral tradition and African life.

The oral culture of the black world is certainly vulnerable. By failing to posses the impregnable barricade of writing, it is open to all winds, to all lack of progress. However, even if it bends, oral tradition does not falter. The oral tradition is linked to life, to perpetual and spontaneous renewal, whereas writing is linked to severity, rigidity, and apathy. Maurice Calvet, who was then the director of CLAD, made a striking comment in a conference held in 1968. "The primary function of the speech organs," he said, "is tied to animal survival. To speak, we use the organs designed for breathing: the lungs; to prevent flooding the voice box; the jaws and teeth for catching food; and for kneading and moving food, the tongue." There is no more convincing proof between speech and life. We eat like we speak; we speak like we breathe. We speak like we relax, as my aunt used to say. One cannot say that we write like we eat, or like we breathe, or like we relax: speech is, more than writing, linked to life. Better than does writing, speech assures survival not conservation of that with which we entrust it. More than writing, speech is a living archive.

The Senegalese languages have survived because, better than written languages, they conserve life. This virtue alone suffices to recommend them to the filial faithfulness of modern linguistic elite as they work towards edification and rebirth. It is another virtue of our oral traditions that refers them to the attention of those called to fortify the revival. It has been said that one of the principle characteristics of oral society is the close association that exists between language and social practice. Again, Maurice Calvet sheds light on this comment by saying, the structural ethnologs have shown, he reminds us, the strange yet fascinating similarity that exists between human structures and institutions (kinship, rituals, hierarchies, etc.) and the very structures of language. Profoundly rooted in society, The oral tradition explains the world, the history, the rituals, the surrounding nature, and the relationships with neighboring ethnicities. Oral tradition ensures and protects the multiple functions of memorization, of values, of ethics, and of aesthetic expression. The oral tradition, being the support and medium of a living society, better assures social reproduction than does writing. In the face of brutal attacks of all kinds against African societies, oral tradition has afforded opposition to an elastic and inconstant reaction, thus ensuring the survival of these societies.

Furthermore, oral tradition dictates an aesthetic expression richer than writing. Speech is not tied to the only organs that ensure animal survival. In speech, the whole body participates in the transmission of the message, unlike writing, which is paralyzed. If so desired, the speaker can easily increase the power of his or her expression by incorporating facial expressions, hands, and even the whole body. One can make speech rhythmical like a drum; it can be made to sing and dance. It is true that one can do the same with writing both with prose and especially with poetry but in a less immediate fashion. Let us refer one last time to Calvet. He says, Language is in its most pure form spoken language, the act of speaking. All other forms of language: body language, drummed-out language, whistled language, and written language are subsidiary forms of oral language, achieved by transfer.

Languages of life, languages of survival, life-preserving languages of our societies, irreplaceable in their ability to express the Senagelese people's sensibility, culture, and civilization can you just throw these vital cultural forms away in history's wastebasket, all in the name of progress? There is not a soul in Senegal, a land of reason and imagination, situated on the forefront of cultural attachment, who would make such an irrational choice. There is not a country in Africa more capable than Senegal at sensing the need to define political causes called for by historical necessity. That is why the problem today is not that of choice, for the choice has already been made in an unequivocal and unanimous manner by political and intellectual élites. The task that these élites are challenged with is the transition from intention to action, from theory to practice.

For the moment, let's come back to the linguistic and cultural panorama of contemporary Senegal. This land is not inhabited by only native languages. A foreign language, French, has also conquered, besieged, and still continues to occupy the territory. Having come from somewhere else, known only by a minority, mastered by a still smaller minority, French is, however, the language that proclaims the law, communicates modern knowledge, and facilitates the most important business transactions. It is true that this foreign language was introduced in the country at the threat of bayonets. But if it has remained for so long in a privileged position, it is because of the choice made by the Senegalese people. Two signs are a testament to this choice: first, the movement toward French schools, a movement whose size has surpassed both the schools' ability to accommodate and adapt to all the students' needs; and, secondly, the upholding of French as the official languageeven as the country has acquired international sovereignty.

What assets, what attractions have ensured the victory of French and its continued eminence? It is an important thing to know. One does not in the slightest diminish the merits of this language in saying that French owes its strength first and foremost, from a linguistic point of view, to the fact that it is a language with a written form. The tool of writing, with all its virtues and spells, couldn't help but have an effect of fascination on the Senegalese people, a people of oral tradition. Political power, urban development, historical records, the codification of laws, the formulation and preservation of beliefs there isn't one of these elements that doesn't take on a whole different aim when supported by the use of writing.

We have just said how, throughout a history full of trials and mortal dangers, oral tradition has permitted the expression and preservation of these elements of civilization. But the times have changed. In a world where, from now on, neither time nor distance will be an obstacle to communication, an oral culture becomes fragile and endangered. The broadcasting reach of an oral culture is limited, as well as its power of competition and, consequently, it falls in a position of inferiority. The strength of internal sentiment that people of an oral tradition feel towards their cultures no longer suffice to preserve their cultures, especially since these people are entering a phase of technical progress in a united world.

The Senegalese peoples' intuitive perception of the mortal fragility of a country deprived of the tool of writing provides one of the explanations for why French has had such an alluring effect on them. However, French was not the only written language present in Senegal. Arabic had been introduced a long time before. So why is it that French prevailed? Certainly because it was imposed by weapons. But we also believe that it is because the study of French called for the use of the child's intelligence and reasoning whereas the study of Arabic, a language of worship, required in the first place the faith of the believer as well as his memory. The acquisition of French was more thorough and its use, more universal. This direct and immediate relationship between the French language and intelligence, reason and intellectual aptitude of its Senegalese speaker was one of the major attractions.

From what I've just said, does it mean that French is unable to express the sensibility and heartfelt musings of a Senegalese individual, unable to extract from him and expose to the light of day his most profound identity? Read Chants d'Ombre and the Stories of Amadou Coumba; read Maimouna and Les bouts de bois de Dieu and tell me if Léopold Senghor and Birago Diop. Abdaoulaye Sadji and Ousmane Sembene aren't Senegalese. Senghor is the proof that it is absolutely possible, by the use of French, to reach the most intimate reaches of the heart and soul. Nevertheless, it still takes a talented poet to do this.

In truth, the French language has entered into the heritage of Senegal, joining native languages like Wolof, Pulaar, Sereer, Joola, Malinké, and Sarakolé. These are the seven living languages of Senegal todayevery one as essential as the other. Taken all together, or considering each one separately with French, they express completely and adequately the Senegalese language at the end of this millennium. Individually, they cannot make this claim.

It follows that the choice either was clear, or rather that Senegal didn't have the choice. That is why, as Senghor (then president of the Republic of Senegal) wrote, We have decided to choose French as the official language of employment and of international communication, whereas our six principal languages . . . will be promoted to the level of national languages,' because of the expression of our African values.

The Senegalese legislator ratified what had already been inscribed in the reality of our culture. The second paragraph of our constitution proclaimed French as the official language. A decree of 21 May 1971 established as law and regulated the transcription of the six national languages. From that time on, the legislative and regulatory arsenal establishing the chosen linguistic policy was in place. It was then just a question of going from the formal agreement on the principal to its elaboration and application.

So it had been decided that French would be the official language. Next came the classic debate between the old school and the modern school. For, as the radical nationalists would say, in French, by the way,

"French is a foreign language and, what's more, the language of the former colonizers. The majority of the Senegalese people don't speak it. It is clear that French is not as appropriate as our other native languages in expressing the profound cultural identity of the Senegalese people. Nevertheless, the Senegalese language that we aspire to build must be compatible with modern progress. In fact, it is on this level of progress that one finds the cultural genius of our people. Consequently, as the nationalists would say, the choice of French is a bad one, from a political, technical, and operative point of view. It would have been better to immediately choose one of our national languages, logically, the one representing the largest minority of our people and make it our national language, by force if necessary."

You can't do that, the modernists retort. It's true that French is a foreign language, but it has been a part of Senegal for three and a half centuries. Sure, it is the language of the former colonizers, but colonization is dead, and if French is our official language, it is because of an independent, deliberate choice on our part. That choice made in that way at that moment in time, changed the political significance of the French language in Senegal. Along this political frontier, this choice wards off any of the dangers of internal divisions caused by the other solution. In view of its long presence in our country, in view of the fact that it was imposed upon us as our official language and that of our government, our instruction at all levels has been only in French, common sense, reason, and the imperatives of action require it to remain as such. If we are serious in our desires and if we consider that modernization is our primary objective, then we must not hesitate between French, a written language, one of the great languages of the world, and some other Senegalese language not yet transcribed or modernized. Considering our desire for progress and the fast-paced race of time, French is, at this moment, the best tool. By it our technicians can read, speak, and write the language of modernism, and access a universal heritage. By its use, we can come to know the cultures of the peoples of the earth, which none of our national languages would permit in the foreseeable future.

The debate could continue on indefinitely, elaborating on one or many of the pertinent arguments, but there are certainly better things to be done. Let us for the moment focus on what can be done concerning the French language; we will then turn our attention toward the urgent tasks that must be undertaken for the national languages.

It is obvious that the most rigid nationalists did not seriously want to abandon the French language. Similarly, the most sentimental modernists were forced to admit that on one hand, French, though it may be an official language, is not a maternal language of the Senegalese people, and, on the other hand, that for cultural and psycho-linguistic reasons, a maternal language is a medium providing an indispensable education. If, by the nature of things, and because of a lack of available solutions, French is an official language, it must be studied in the best circumstances of quality and effectiveness. As Senghor said, "If one must choose an instrument, it would be absurd to not want the best possible one." I also remember that that was the feeling that enlivened my playmate and me when, in the alleyway of our village, we would play the game of speaking French correctly. The necessity of French is a consequence that flows from the utilitarian function of French, which is not only admitted by all the élites, but strongly desired by the population.

Although the necessity of studying French is obvious, the necessity for French to be the only teaching vehicle is less certain. I will not go so far as to say that French should not serve as the sole tool of instruction in certain disciplines for a period of time . Even the most advanced nations, with more modern languages than Senegal at their disposal, show no reluctancy in such a step. What should come to an end is the monopolistic position that French has enjoyed when it is treated as the maternal language of the Senegalese people. Dumont observed, The introduction of the national languages in the official curriculum will modify the numbers attached to the problem of teaching French in Senegal. French will rediscover its rightful place in the Senegalese educational system: that of a foreign language benefitting from the hours, curriculum, but also perspectives usually reserved for traditional foreign languages.

The second stage of the Senegalese linguistic plan involves the politics of national language promotion. The decree of 13 July 1972 concerning elementary school teaching in Senegal, clearly laid down these principles, All language transporting a given civilization, we believe that as long as we, the Senegalese people, continue to teach our children a foreign language, whatever it may be, without first teaching them their native language, our people will remain alienated. There is an urgent necessity for the Senegalese people to begin to teach their national languages. An initiation to the French language, which is considered a workplace language, should be given in a parallel manner to the introduction of the teaching of national languages. . . . In Senegal, French will remain a foreign and secondary language whose teaching should begin with clear connections tying it to the national languages.

The promotion of national languages to the ranks of taught languages is a complex and considerable undertaking, but it is both necessary and possible to bring about much good, given a reasonable amount of time. Our history has known slower progress than this.

Along with the politics involved with a Senegalese educational movement towards a new call to progressively promote the teaching of national languages, another task presents itself: that of literacy among adults in these languages. Even if the educational and intellectual elite come to terms with the monster that they have created for themselves, the desired objective of rebirth and modernization of the national languages will only be achieved with the participation of the people. Only the dynamism and creative genius of the people will allow them to undertake the obstacles and to make a new and fertile culture prosperous instead of the adverse, antagonistic theories brandished by some scholars.

I have not lost sight of the possible permutations of the question that we are asked, Is the French language appropriate for the expression of Senegalese cultural identity? I think that I have answered this question, but to be clear, I will repeat this answer in conclusion. Drawing from my own experience with the French language and my knowledge of a few Senegalese languages, judging with my mind and with my heart, having the ambition and the intention of being profoundly entrenched in my black, African tradition, and to be at the same time a militant committed to the birth of a new world, materially self-mastered and spiritually reconciled, my answer to the question is yes. Yes, in the language of humanism there is no aspect of the human condition that the French language would not be capable of describing; the language of a great and old nation, in times past, French was chosen by diplomats and cultivated men of many nations and it remains today one of the principle languages of the modern world.

To Prospero, who asked a question similar to that which we are asked today, Caliban answered, You taught me your language. The advantage I have on it is I know how to curse. Considering the manner in which he was treated, having been demoted to servitude, denying his culture, and even his human condition, it is understandable that Caliban was more inclined towards cursing and insult than towards forgiveness. But there are no more lost islands, unknown lands, unrecognized lands. The time of the finished world has started and with it the dawn of the birth of the Civilization of the Universal. The Africans and the French can and want to be present at this meeting, together, in freedom and in brotherhood.

by Cheikh Hamidou Kane, author, former diplomat and minister in the government of Senegal transcript from his presentation at BYU, 2 November 2000, translated by Natalie and Zachary Gubler