Wednesday,
February 13, 1909
I'm
proud of my heritage. I was born on this island, and my parents were
born on this island, and my grandparents were born on this island. My
babouli (great-grandfather) was not born on this island. He came here
from afar many years ago. Sometimes, when he's angry, he speaks in a
funny language. It's almost like the language spoken by the men on
the whaling boats, but it's different, too. I hate having to speak
this new language. It's ugly. My mama still speaks to me in the
creole, and I speak to my sister in the creole, but she doesn't
understand it. She learned the expansionist language in school and
refuses to learn the creole because they taught her to be afraid of
it. My sister is a first generation. She was born a year after the
law was put into place, so she doesn't know any better.
I
have to speak the expansionist language when I am in public, but I
still hate it. The older kids still speak the creole language, too,
but not as much anymore. Once the school started making examples of
kids, they kind of just stopped. Sometimes kids get suspended, if
they're out, their parents might get fined. We only speak it with
each other when we know for sure that we're alone. Since my sister
and the other younger kids don't know the language at all, I'm afraid
it's going to go away forever. I can't imagine never hearing my
language again. Why do we have to switch over anyway? What are they
trying to prove?
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