The thing about profanity is that it seems so easy and cool
when you speak with your pals who of course also share the same sentiments. And
from my experience, you’d have to have your mind conditioned in such a manner
that just about every thing you see, hear or say has a vulgar connotation to
it. I remember my first experience with profanity, I was an “appie” in the
mines, and while at the training center workshop, the work shop instructor
seemed to think that in order for us to remember these equipments, tools, and
machines and their functions, he had to relate them to sexual vulgar bits, and
so it went. He gave me a task to machine a tool, on a “wanking machine”. Of
course I pulled a face, a dumb face to be exact because I was standing there
thinking “what in the world is a wanking machine?” he was referring to a
milling machine.
And since then my vocabulary changed. I could eloquently
cuss and swear in English and Afrikaans whilst making what is supposed to be a
polite conversation, hoarsing around without a care in the world. It got worse
to a point where I simply could not sound intelligent unless I was cussing.
Then it hit me one day. I went home, Ga-Mphahlele. See,
having worked in the industries that I have and still is, it’s safe to say that
I spent 90% of my time speaking English, so much that most of my dreams are in
English. That’s just sad really. So while at home in the village, I found
myself battling to communicate with anyone ka Sepedi because, well, I forgot
how. I’m so conditioned to speaking sekgowa so much that I even dream ka
sekgowa. That’s when realized as well that in order for me to say a sentence in
Sepedi, I need to think it in English, and then translate it to Sepedi. This is
where the problem started.
First of all, I was raised in house hold where I would never
even dare say “voetsek” to anyone. So cussing was a hell no! You’d literally be
chased out of the house to sleep with herd in the kraal. And yet here I am, unable to piece a decent sentence
together and sound like the good child mama raised. See, I know that if my mama
heard me speak like that, using that sort of a language, she not only going to
kick me out of the house, she’ll smack the foul taste out of my mouth first.
And I know that for most of us black people, this household sounds very
familiar. Christianity had nothing to do with it. It was just simple Afrikan
traditions, principles and values instilled in us.
So the question I’m asking is, Why do we seem to be so
comfortable with the kind of foul language we use? Why is it that we think just
because we say it in English then that makes it easier on our conscience to
cuss and get away with it?
Sepedi proverb “Rutang bana ditaola, gore le seyeng natjo
badimong”. There’s a lot to teach my unborn children, and cussing is certainly
not on the list, not in my house!
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