By Carol ValadePosted on 09-09-2019Modified on 09-09-2019 at 07:35
School director and poet Aguibou Sow shares his life between teaching, literacy of the Guinean countryside and the promotion of Fulani culture. He advocates for the return of national languages in education, convinced that one never learns better than in one's mother tongue.
The "symbol" sleeps on a shelf in the back of the library. Aguibou Sow, the school's director, makes his way through the shabby maps and grabs them with caution. He speaks in a low voice: "It is a practice inherited from colonization reintroduced by the authorities when the military came to power ," he explains. The " symbol " is an ox horn, fresh out of the slaughterhouse, which was tied with a string around the neck of students caught speaking their mother tongue instead of French. " The leftover meat smelled stink ," he recalls, humiliating the offender. " If you take it away, she'll tell me! Threatened the master. The next morning, the latter placed it against his ear and exclaimed: " you are separated to sleep! Before we hit the fingers of his wand.
Aguibou has worn it many times. " I was a little rebellious," he admits, " but I was mostly encouraged by my mother, a fervent defender of the Poular language. After the punishment, you had to go back to school with a 25-franc piece. She always gave me two : " this time, and for the next time you'll speak our language ". I end up wearing it with pride ... and also, because I knew that I would receive the 25 francs! "
" My mother was not farba [1], but the family's ranchers always walked with poetry in their heads. She had memorized the poems of Thierno Samba Mombeya, that she recited to us the evening before going to bed. It was our soap opera for us who did not have the radio. I keep one verse in particular : "Sabu neddo ko haala mu'um newotoo nde o fahminiraa ko wi'aa to Yi'al. A person can understand the essentials of a science only in his language. This is the biggest lesson she gave me before leaving. [2]
Aguibou Sow recites a poem by Thierno Samba Mombeya
08-09-2019 - By Carol Valade
Aguibou's mother dies the same morning that the boy was chosen to read the welcoming speech to the President of the Republic passing through his city. He holds back his tears, forces a smile and holds his role without failing.
The military government of General Lansana Conte has just restored French as the official language of Guinea. A break with the old metropolis, the first president Ahmed Sékou Touré had in 1965 formalized 8 national languages. Primary education was in Soussou, Guerzé, Poular, Malinké ...
Aguibou discovers the vestiges of this time by unpacking the donuts of his snack: "it was the sheets of a textbook in Kissi language, if I had understood their value at the time, I would have preserved them ".
After twenty years of experience, the report is strongly criticized and Guinea ranked among the least literate countries in the region. Today, it is estimated that more than half of the population can neither read nor write.
" We confuse illiteracy and illiteracy in French! protests Aguibou Sow for whom teaching in national languages is the best thing brought by the Revolution. The level of language was measured instead of the level of knowledge. Now, it is not the language of science that should interest us, but science itself. If I were a decision maker, I would say, "Down with the French language, long live the national languages! "
Aguibou now works in the private sector " because the public school is a cemetery, the teachers are replaced there to teach elsewhere and get two salaries. It's the misery that drives them to that, I can not blame them . " This year, Guinea launched a census campaign to identify "ghost teachers". More than 6,000 are missing.
Aguibou does not earn much more than them: a little less than 200 euros per month. He guides us through the alleys of "Petit Simbaya" a popular neighborhood in the suburbs of Conakry. At the bottom of the craters dug by the rain, the pipes of the SEG [3] remain desperately dry.
" It's not castle life ," jokes the father of three children pushing the door of his two-room. He pulls from under his bed a small blue suitcase on which one can read " bon voyage ". Inside: school supplies, some clothes, and his most faithful companion: a computer marked by wear. For the rest, he counts on the hospitality of the inhabitants of Fouta Djalon, his region of origin.
" In an old village, an old lady handed me her phone and asked me to call her son because she did not have any more rice ." Touched by his distress, he decided to devote his leave to volunteer literacy classes in rural areas. The task is immense: he estimates at more than 200 the number of villages without school in Fouta.
His hobbyhorse: to show that African languages are also languages of science. A lexicon edited by him translates the medical terms such as "chromatide body" in poular. " I did not invent anything," he says, " all that vocabulary existed before being forgotten. Proof that it is a language of the future ? Facebook has just been translated into poular and there was already a term to say " arobase "! Through his association Aguipeln [4], he participates in the translation of the Koran and the Constitution.
In his library, among the great names of Peul literature lies a small booklet, signed "Mo Kulete". A pseudonym taken from the name of his village. He balks a little then agrees to open the stapled pages to read us a few verses:
"Play, play me the lyre ...."
08-09-2019 - By Carol Valade
" My first collection is called Selan, which means leave me alone. When I was trying to compose Poular, French words sprang up around me to lock me up like a prison. The revolt and the quest for freedom push me to writing. In my news, I tackle taboos like adultery. This may shock some, but I feel that one is not quite oneself when one writes. "
"Mo Kulete" settles on his small terrace. The remains of a downpour pearl on a large orange tree. " That's where I'm ruminating. To write is to ruminate my teacher's day. I am surrounded by dozens of children from different backgrounds. They tell me their problems and their problems, these are the problems of Guinea .
When asked to pose with the "symbol" around his neck, Aguibou politely refuses and leaves the horn in the back of the library, " in my little museum, where his place is now ".
[1] Griot, storyteller
[2] The Fillon of eternal happiness , Tierno Mouhammadou-Samba Mombéyâ, edited by Alfâ Ibrahîm Sow, Karthala, Paris 1975
[3] Guinea Water Company
[4] Guinean Association for the Promotion of Writing and Reading in National Language
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