A Language All Your Own November 9
Ev’ry bread have its cheese.
No need to be a crab in da barrel.
Cockroach huv no right in fowl fete.
Ya cyar play saila’ an’ fraid powa.
Zandolie fin’ yuh hole.
No, I do not recognize those phrases either, but they are used here by those whose version of English leaves much to the imagination. I am at a greater linguistic disadvantage than I was in Mexico, because at least in a Spanish-speaking country there is mutual agreement that neither conversant can properly understand the other. Here people Comprende me just fine (I talk like television), just not the other way around. Matthew, pronounced Muh-Chew, swears that it is the rapid cadence that presents the problem for outsiders, but I disagree. This language is different.
The sounds of vowels and consonants imitate other letters, composing syllables that are melodic to the ear, with Anglo lilts and Franco accents. The name Charles is pronounced Shuhls. The french word for Chacachacare, the island of lepers, is pronounced Shockashockaray, which is very fun to say rapid-fire, Connery-style: Shockashockaray, ole’ shum! Th’ is said as T’, except when it is Ch’ in Matthew, I mean, Muh-Chew. These are just the consonants.
If you dream to someday to have a house of your own here, you say, “My oon hose“—the hard “o“ is pronounced with a hard “u“, while the wide “ou“ is said with a hard “o“. For the soft “o“, one uses a a soft “u“; as for the soft “a“, best employ a soft “o“. Such are the vowels of this place, where left is right and right is wrong. Pardon me—wrung. So, no, I am not actually driving a boat when I say, “I am driving abote.“ Noo, nut ot ull. I am merely driving about, Vacilando-style, in the general direction of Chaguaramas, or, to be perfectly clear, Shaggeramus.
I study the language through blanched immersion, but mastery will come only when Da Cock Get Teet’. Still, I do make some progress, for instance, by decoding the first paragraph:
You will find an unlikely partner.
Do not make waves when you live on an island.
Your presence is uninvited.
Controversy comes with consequences.
Know your place.
As is evident above, a foreigner receives a good deal of Trini advice. Often, the advice is to be careful, do not travel alone, be wary of strangers. Today it is to try the Pholori, a savory dumpling fried to perfection, and served with a sweet green mango chutney, with a kick. The yellow flour in a Pholori comes from chickpea, very East Indian—as opposed to West Indian, the dual identity for almost half the population, a singular demographic anomaly. The dough is leftover from the Divali fete, which just concluded a month of goddess worship with an artillery barrage in Carenage, loads of revelin', and plenty of off-color, post-fete gossip.
Macko is A Nosy Person. A bandaid is called a Plaster. Plamplam means vagina. So does Pumpum. So too does Saltfish, although it also means salted white fish, which is a preferred breakfast item, minced with hot peppers. A Bamsie is a backside. A Brabadap is an uncouth person. Together we say, “Getsta cage befuh ya catch a bird.“