Why the Mot Juste Eludes Us – Obahiagbon and the Reprieve for Ghanaian English

What is the most appropriate word that best conveys the meaning we intend to communicate? That word is the mot juste. Most speakers of good English invest some effort to get it right the first time. When you hear them pause needlessly in search of a good register to describe an action or an intention, it means the mot juste has eluded them. While looking for that one word to say what they want to say, they need to say something to fill what could be an uncomfortable vacuum. That is when these expletives become useful: “I mean,” “you know,” “what is it?” “errr” etc.

As non-native speakers of the English language, the mot juste fools us all the time. It eluded me this morning when I asked my son to get me a book from the library. How best do I describe the place the book is hidden to a three year old without being unnecessarily descriptive? I have often found myself resorting to circumlocution when I miss that one word that could say it all. And as you know, every edition of Tissues of the Issues misses the mot juste in many inexcusable ways. When I see other speakers and writers struggling to find the mot juste, I always have little difficulty in forgiving them. However, I have a little difficulty in forgiving those who cannot forgive them.

So, I would urge you to quickly pardon the friend who failed to appreciate the difference in the use of ‘little’ and ‘a little’ in the sentences above. For two decades, I misspelt ingenious (inventive, skillful) as ingenuous (frank, open, innocent). Ingenuousness (noun form of ingenuous) is not the same as ingenuity (ingenious). These little things are difficult to spot. Yet, it is unpardonable to misuse the closest synonyms. Good English, in the thinking of J. E. Metcalfe and C. Astle, “distinguishes the professional from the amateur, and most of us cannot afford to write “its” for “it’s.”

Who is a professional user of the English language, and how does ‘amateur English’ sound? In the Edo State of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, there lives a fine gentleman called Patrick Obahiagbon, a former member of the Nigerian National Assembly. During Parliamentary debates, Hon. Obahiagbon mesmerised and often confused his colleagues with what their speaker described as “his unusual way of controlling the English Language.” One of his colleagues lambasted him for “speaking English the way he likes.” Television hosts often looked bemused and perplexed, and sometimes helpless during live telecasts. Nobody understood words like ogodomigodo, avatar and cabalocracy in the contexts Obahiagbon deployed them.

In the end, Hon Obahiagbon lost his seat at the Assembly because of what Nigerians call ‘Big Grammar.’ If nobody understood him when he spoke, it means Hon. Obahiagbon was not communicating. Two big words do not necessarily communicate a better meaning than the simple, every day words. Indeed, grammarians and journalism professors tell us to keep it simple and short–KISS. In Letters and Social Aims, Ralph Waldo Emerson tells us: “Language is a city, to the building of which every human being brought a stone.” Well, it seems Hon. Obahiagbon had very big stones.

So, right there on your tongue is a stone. Do not be too quick to caste your stone when somebody speaks or writes English incorrectly. We are all helping to build a city when we use language. That brings us to the real tissues in today’s issue: what right do we have to belittle or tease (what is the most appropriate word to use here) those who confuse their adjectives with their adverbs? They are part of the builders of this city.

Presently, the soundbite of a Parliamentarian struggling with the English language is usually heard on some radio stations in Accra, including Joy FM. Making what seemed to be his maiden submission on the floor of the House, the Hon. Member of Parliament committed the linguistic sin of spoonerism. “All os a fudden”, we began making jest at the MP’s transposition of some common words, just like the example above. ‘All of a sudden’ could easily be rendered as ‘All os a fudden.’ That is spoonerism. The MP had transposed ‘schools under trees’ for ‘trees under schools.’

How often does the mot juste elude Twi, Dagbaani or Ewe speakers? A comedian on Rainbow FM, a new radio station in Accra, makes some important observations about our use of the English Language. Sandra (the name of the male comedian) questions why every public official in Ghana necessarily needs to read a written speech or refer to ‘talking points’ when communicating in English. Have we ever seen a traditional ruler or a linguist reading a speech before an audience, the comedian asks?

The radio comedian also observes that we are confused and often disoriented when we miss a few pages of our prepared speech. Like ventriloquists skilled in speaking in the voice of another, we forget where we left our vocal cords when confronted with a speaking assignment, especially if it is in English. We do not dread the speeches we make in our local dialects. The comedian wants to know who is forcing us to speak in a borrowed language when it is foreign to our tongue and gives us problems.

We admire our friends who speak English fluently, especially if it comes with an unfamiliar accent. The fluent linguist who masterfully employs the most appropriate register on every occasion and is a master of the finest bon mot (witticisms), is usually not accorded scholarly and literary attributes. Thiers is seen as a relic of oral tradition and ancestral knowledge passed down from our forefathers. Our idea of scholarship is a bespectacled fellow poring (not pouring) through a fat text written in esoteric language.

Well, we have made a commitment to speak and write English better than Twi, Fante, Ewe or Wale. The English language exposes our weakness and innate vulnerabilities as non-native speakers. Not many of us can say it with the same conviction as Chimamanda Adichie that “English is my language; I have possessed it.” We are also not as confident as Ngugi wa Thiongo to write our stories in Gikuyu.

The self-conceited speakers of Ghanaian English who mock the trees of the Honourable Parliamentarian should be sure about their prepositions and adjectival clauses. We will not forgive them if they misspell forego (precede) as forgo (abstain, deny oneself). The other day, one of those smart-alecks wrote the following: “Judging by the results from the meeting, the Board’s decision to appoint a permanent representative is ridiculous.”

What is wrong with this sentence? Well, the present participle ‘judging’ is wrongly used here. Used this way, it means the ‘results’ did the judging. The correct word is ‘judged.’ Never mind if you didn’t know this. True scholarship belongs in the woods.