I’ve come to believe that my accent is misplaced somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic. When I’m in my country, I speak one sentence, and I’m eliminated—eyes run and ears perk up at the sound of my words. For Kenyans, park and pack are pronounced the same way, distinguished by the subject matter. In the US, I don’t’ fit in, even though my Rs, such as in water, are no longer silent. Some of my Ts have turned to Ds, as in the subsequent T in traumatic. It’s traumatic. I get a mélange of comments—ranging from warm to sour. “I love your accent. Where are you from?” One of my college English professors once gave me a plus on pronunciation, after a presentation. Still, the sour group never fails to prick me, or so they think. They come from hidden sarcasm, “You speak such good English,” to the real sour ones—downright thorny, “I don’t understand your language.” “Are you speaking English?”

I’m ever amused by some English speakers’ attitude toward none English speakers’ ability to speak English. Sometimes I wish to say, “Yes, I can speak that and two other languages in a sentence, and you?”

I don’t imagine that there is an English speaker, that’s completed education without taking a single English class. Having lived in the U.S. for many years, I’m aware of some academic rules and requirements. If there’s an exemption for English speakers to just walk into a university’s English Department, fill a few forms, and be handed graduation regalia, especially those with the velvet chevrons, the plateau of academic learning—and graduation date, I’m yet to learn. As I know it, even the King of England can’t just be granted this gift.   

I answer a lot of calls at my job, and calls come in various modes. My most recent phone encounter pleased me. After he rambled his need, I got a chance to explain what we did and how I could help him, which he interjected zestfully, “I’m sorry, but you have such a beautiful accent. Where’s that from? Wait,” so, I took that moment to take a sip of tea while he worked hard to reveal his knowledge on a few accents, and from his chosen …sian countries, “Malaysia, Indonesia, Micronesia, close?” I wanted to say, you forgot Tunisia, but I didn’t want to take him from the Far East, and perhaps, that part of Geography was a good as dead on his mind. “No,” I answered calmly and discretely, “It’s African.”

“Oh!” He propelled with profound disappointment. “Anyway, there’s nothing this useless company can do for me.” The phone went dead. I knew the company only got chastised for making me part of its staff, but wherever he was, I was sure that he needed a hole to sink into.

Someone said, “Knowledge is power.” While that’s a relative term, it’s one to ponder. English is merely a language like any other, not a measure of intelligence. I admire those with the ability to learn different languages, like my village representative, an Indian native, who takes great pleasure in addressing the villagers in our native language, no matter the accent.   

Meanwhile, I’m on YouTube, learning some …sian accents. I’ve learned something new, lah! (Malaysian). And no, my accent hasn’t crossed over the Pacific, but it would be nice.