Wolof, Schmolof.

Since arriving in Sénégal, I've been learning the most widely spoken local language here-- Wolof. Wolof's spoken by the Wolof people; they live mostly in Western Sénégal, The Gambia, a bit in Guinea and Guinea-Bissau, and of course, in Petit Sénégal, Harlem, NYC. Wolof is heavy with harsh consonants, and has an almost Asian-sounding intonation at times. When combined with the stereotypically loud decibel of the Wolof people, it's downright scary. Most nights when I'm watching TV with my homestay family/ watching my homestay family, I have to debate if there's a huge, screaming fight going on, or if it's just another regular conversation intensified by the typical loudness and severity of the Wolof sound. To be honest, my enthusiasm to learn Wolof has waned since being here: really, when am I going to use it when I return to the U.S, other than when bargaining for knock-off purses from Senegalese vendors on the streets of Manhattan?

Nevertheless, I've been pondering what information a language articulates about the society that speaks it. In Wolof, the pronouns are always changing. It feels like each day in Wolof, we learn a new pronoun tense. My teacher, Faatu, is a real sweetheart-- she's soft-spoken, wears glasses, always veiled and dressed in an impeccably-matching, impossibly-bright head to toe ensemble-- but sometimes, I just want to sass her: "Oh, really, Faatu, this is the future-tense pronoun to emphasize the verb, versus the past-tense pronoun to emphasize the verb, versus the declarative pronouns, versus the pronouns that emphasize the subject, etc, etc?!"

Despite the infinite pronouns, the verbs in Wolof never change. No verb conjugation. Think: I am, you am, he am, she am, we am, they am. Maybe the big nerd in me is overanalyzing this, but the lack of specificity when it comes to action denotes a universality. I am, just the same as he am-- right? Furthermore, there's virtually no differentiation between present and future tenses in Wolof. It's the past tense that's dissimilar. I wonder if this emphasis on past tense points to a history longer than a 20 year-old American girl like me could possibly comprehend.

Anyway, my head is caught in the cross-tides of too many languages. We learn Wolof in French, and at SIT, we speak a mutated combination of Wolof, French, and English: Franglof? Donc, mangi dem (je pars), ba beneen yoon (à la prochaine fois)!