By Muneer Yaqub
Nigeria is a multi-cultural nation, with well over three hundred ethnic groups and two hundred languages. The quest for unification of these groups, despite their diversity, has made it adopt English Language as its lingua franca. And by implication, the language of instruction, and communication, in the Nigerian academia is officially English language.
It is gathered, however, that in such higher institutions of learning as Usmanu Danfodiyo University, Sokoto (UDUS), there are exceptions. Domiciled in the Northern part of Nigeria, UDUS is dominated by an Hausa-speaking populace, most of whom either lack proficiency in English language, or prioritize Hausa Language over the official language.
This story reveals the ordeal of non-Hausa-speaking students, with regards to language barrier, in the Most Peaceful University in Nigeria, UDUS.
ARRESTED FOR AN UNCOMMITTED CRIME
Jaspa (not real name) is a Yoruba, a native of Ogbomoso, Oyo State. Save for Arabic and English, he understands no other language other than his mother tongue. His quest for tertiary education has brought him to Sokoto, a predominantly Hausa-speaking state in faraway North. Now in his third year at Usmanu Danfodiyo University (UDUS), he narrates his ordeal as a fresh student, who understood no Hausa.
“It was in the library,” he recalls, “I still remember vividly. It was the most grievous day of my life.”
Jaspa had just come out of the library after a long day of study. To fetch his bag, he headed towards the huge safe peforated by numbered holes, in rows and columns, standing at a corner close to the library’s main entrance.
Oblivious of the exact hole he had kept his bag, he promptly began opening each hole, desperately, with a hope that it had not been stolen. Suddenly, he was confronted by a library official, in the parody of a policeman apprehending a thief.
“I even thought he was a student trying to challenge me. He yelled at me, his words in Hausa. I was so annoyed; I snapped back at him. I said I didn’t understand what he was saying. He didn’t understand English…I didn’t understand Hausa either. So, we argued on. But before I knew it, he had lurked my shirt and had begun dragging me to the security guards.
“Unfortunately for me, those ones too didn’t understand English. And this gave the guy a chance to maneuver the narrative. So that even before I was finally allowed to say my own side of the story, I was already been treated as a criminal,” he recounts.
The case turned out to be “a very serious one” for Jaspa. It was immediately channeled to the school’s Security Headquarters, where he paraded for almost two months before finally being acquitted. “My ID Card was seized…including my library ID card. I couldn’t enter the library for the rest of the semester. It even affected my academic morale; because I thought I was going to be expelled from school. All because I didn’t understand Hausa, and an official of a university library—university for that matter—didn’t understand English, I had to through such tragedy, it was so painful!” he laments.
‘HELLO! YOU THINK I DON’T UNDERSTAND?’
Every room in UDUS female hostels has its own deliberated ‘light-out’ time. Abu Bilqees, an Ebira, happens to stay among dominant Hausa roommates. Unlike many others, she has an ear for the Hausa language. Only that she can’t speak.
It happened that one of her roommates came in when it was already way past the curfew: 11:00pm. “She wanted to wash clothes,” narrates Bilqees, “so she turned the lights on. Even though it was disturbing my sleep—as i don’t sleep in the presence of light—I still refrained from complaining.”
It became unbearable for her, however, when after her long hours of washing, this roommate began a loud conversation with some others. “I couldn’t take it anymore. So, I stood up from my bed and walked carefully to her corner, in order not to disturb others.
”I said: ‘Sister, could you please switch off the light?’ trying to be polite. But she looked at me scornfully and yelled: ‘Please, please! How exactly is it disturbing you? See, don’t look for my trouble tonight O. Are you telling me that I must sleep just because you want to sleep?’
“I was dumbfounded. But that wasn’t even the painful part. As if it was not enough, thinking I wouldn’t understand anyway, she faced her friends and began insulting me in Hausa, right there in my presence. Unknown to her, I understood every word she said. And she was shocked when I confronted and yelled back at her: ‘Hello! You think I don’t understand?’
“If not that I don’t fight, honestly, I could have picked up a fight with her. Because I was so enraged. Haba! Just because she thought I didn’t understand her language, does that give her the audacity to abuse me? To be honest, language barrier can take one’s life in this school.” says Bilqees.
FIRST ATTACK
“You can imagine my horror when I found out that, whether it is a lecturer or a cleaner, the first language spoken to you in Danfodiyo is Hausa,” says Rodiya Omotoyosi, a fresh student from Ekiti, as she recalls her bitter experience on her very first day on campus.
She has been confronting difficulties with language barrier ever since she began her journey to Sokoto. “I had thought things would take a turn for the better once I set foot on an academic ground. But to my utmost horror, reverse was the case.
“I was entering the school compound for the first time and I had gone to the school ICT Center to begin my registration process. At the entrance, I was apprehended by a group of security officers.
“Seeing me clad in my long Hijab, they concluded that I must be an Hausa girl. So they gave me what I call a first attack. They started speaking words in Hausa which I couldn’t comprehend. Had I not quickly announced that I didn’t understand the language, I’m sure I would have been hushed out of the Center, taken for a disobedient, ill-mannered student, and probably sent to a disciplinary committee where my admission would be terminated.” she says.
‘HOW I WISH I DIDN’T COMPLAIN’
It was time to clear his bedspace, being a fresh student. So Ayuba Muhyideen set out very early in the morning to beat the oft-long queue in front of the office.
Finally, It was his turn, and he was summoned in. “I greeted him: Good morning sir,” he said, “but to my shock, he replied ‘Ina Kwana, the meaning of which I didn’t know, despite that I was in an Ankara attire.”
“I explained what I was there for, hoping that this time he would speak in the language I understood. Again, I was disappointed. He rumbled on in Hausa.”
Kolawole wishes he hadn’t called the official’s attention to his plight. He wishes he had kept silent and absorbs his Hausa in good fate; perhaps he would have left the office less dazed. For, the English that followed afterwards was “worse” than the Hausa he had heard.
“I said ‘Sir, I don’t understand Hausa.’ And finally, he changed to English. But I wish I had not complained. Because, I can’t say this is one thing I understood from all he was saying. His English was so bad. It was even worse than listening to Hausa. I was so sad: why would an office in a university, with students from diverse backgrounds, be occupied by someone who can’t even communicate in English?”
DELIVERED IN HAUSA
Of all places, language barrier in UDUS is also found in classrooms, between lecturers and students. Subjects which have no connection whatsoever with Hausa are being at times delivered, partly or wholly, in the same language, by some lectors.
Murtadoh Abdullahi, an Ogun State indigene and student of Education/Islamic Studies, has an encounter with one of such lecturers. “It was my first time in his Arabic class,” he says.
“Funnily enough, he had announced as soon as he entered that only Arabic was allowed in his class. Yet, before long, he began explaining in Hausa. And this went on for about half an hour. I drew his attention to the rule he had set, and to the overwhelming non-Hausa population in the class.
“Although he switched to Arabic for a few minutes, he digressed again into Hausa. At this point, I knew any effort to call him to order might suggest effrontery. So I kept mute. And that was how the lecture ended and I gained nothing. Even though I had been told I was bound to face such in this school, i had never imagined that it could be this bad,” he says, highly disappointed.
‘WHY WON’T I GO LATE TO JUMAT?’
Isa Ismail, though Katsina-based, does not understand Hausa language. He is Yoruba by tribe, and a devoted Muslim. He is disappointed at the way religious activities on campus are being conducted majorly in Hausa. He likes to participate in them, but for this hinderance.
“I tried attending the weekly lectures done in the masjids in the hostels but I couldn’t, due to the language barrier. They are mostly delivered in Hausa. I also missed some of the lectures during the Marhabah week despite being present. Why? language barrier,” he cries.
“Is this how things ought to be?”
Unusual of him, Isa began going late to friday prayers at the University Central Mosque, almost towards the end. He blames it on how both the pre- and Jumat sermons are being delivered absolutely in Hausa language, not minding the heavy presence of non-Hausas.
“Why won’t I go late to Jumat?”, he asks, “when I don’t understand what they are saying. I only go there to sleep. Is it not better staying at home, awaiting the prayer proper, than sleeping while the sermon is on?”
‘YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO USE VERNACULAR LANGUAGE’ — DEAN, STUDENTS’ AFFAIRS
In reaction to lectures being delivered in Hausa language, Prof. Aminu Mode, Dean of Students’ Affairs, says although the Management is not aware of such, but if it happens to be true, it is unacceptable.
“You are not supposed to use vernacular language in a class where English is required. Because the general language of instruction is English language, and it is unfair on the rest of the students who don’t understand the vernacular,” he says.
He cites an example: “One of my son is presently (studying) in Abeokuta. I don’t want him to come home to tell me that he is being taught in Yoruba, a language he doesn’t understand. He could learn it if he so wishes, but to impose it on him is unfair…it is unacceptable.”
As regards the victimization that borders on language barrier, Prof. Mode maintains it is a problem everywhere. “You don’t cheat others because of language barrier. It is bad.”
He advises students to feel free to lodge their complaints to superior officers, in the case of any victimization.
He however promises to raise the issue to the bodies concerned. “And we’d see what we can do to reduce it,” he assures.