Sunday at church I overheard Jerry (a guy in my ward) out in the hallway speaking French. It sounded like really bad French. Jerry went on his mission to Florida, and spent most of his time in Haitian communities, so I was pretty sure he was actually speaking Creole. Most Haitians are descended from Africans who were brought in as slave labor a century or two ago. The language spoken there is a mixture of French and African languages, with a bunch of other minor influences thrown in. So out I went and said something about Creole sounding like French with a really bad accent.
Anyway, the lady with whom Jerry was speaking was actually a native of Haiti. She spoke Creole, French, and English (in approximately that order of fluency). She asked how I knew it was Creole, which led to her realizing I spoke French. Since her French is much better than her English, she brightened up and said "oh, can I speak French with you?" So we talked in French for a couple hours, and it was fun (we mostly shut up for sacrament meeting, though). My French is a little broken, but with a sufficient amount of random abuse of the language, I can talk about quite a few things. It got me totally excited about trying a French-speaking trip sometime.
I'm such a xenophile.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
That is infinitely preferrable to being a xenophobe.
You really are, though. :P
Post a Comment