John Ekongo It was like one has woken up in another transit, a vivid reminder of some sort of small ambivalent sleepy town in the then Republiek. You will swear that you are either in Paarl, Franschoek, Knysna or somewhere in the “Kleine Karoo”. The only exception is the lot of black faces, which reminds you that it is not actually any other town in the South but, well it is closer at home, and it happens to be Walvis Bay precise. People don’t all get me wrong, I have had all my romanticism with the “taal” to such an extent that I still know the words to “Die stem”, a few poems by Antjie Krog, CM Van Der Heever, D J Opperman and many others. Every proud boerseun and Ombwiiti’s of my heydays will narrate to you with burning zeal poems such as “Klara Majola, Die mot en die kers. Hoe die Hollanders die Kaap ingeneem het” and the list is endless. Those were the days that Afrikaans was pure, clean, sentimental and melancholy. Now bear with me in the light of Bok van Blerk song De la Rey, I think it was probably long overdue. Let us just say for the sake reemergence of the lost sheep without its shepherd. It will be a pity for Afrikaners to feel left out. All well and good, however I do feel pity for the way they speak Afrikaans over here, now when I say over here I mean Walvis Bay. I know time and time again that, this has been a contested issue, but boy it is too much. Everything is in dual language, English-Afrikaans but the latter takes prominence. Now the strange part is that instead of finding a white chap boasting ahead full steam with the taal. It so happens to be my brother from the north, after a few months stay in Walvis Bay, he is a qualified linguist in the field of Afrikaans. Don’t mind the “r and l” the fact is that he speaks alright. “Is goed dat jy om alle streke moeite gedoen het on hier te wees, hier is sommer net ‘n klein verkroeisel wat jou help beslis gaan nodig hÃÆ’Æ‘Æ‘ÃÆ”šÃ‚ª.” That was my sister, merely trying to tell me Kondjeni I need a fifty rand.” It being deep rooted well into the being, I hope that colleagues from the inland wil merely understand, the panache with Afrikaans in this coastal town. How bad it is, well figure this in Walvis Bay they don’t have dollars they use rands. Any branch of Nampost is still refered to as “Die Pos-meester se Kantoor”, if you ask me who is the posmeester. Now the cherry on cake, obviously any examination of some sort be it sanctioned by Government should be conducted in English. Well I got stunned the officer in charge asks me Afrikaans of Engels. What do you mean? So I enquire-Ek bedoel jou eksamen boek verkies jy Afrikaans of Engels” Even the church service is dual language, despite that the ethnic language is being translated, what is said in Afrikaans is not correlating with the translations, meaning the vernacular is lost somehow. I am sure that if Tate Shiimi was to be present at the service he will walk out in disbelief about the translations. Where is the original ethnicity, you see with the trots boerseun, Afrikaans make sense it his mother tongue, but with a Damara/Nama, or Oshiwambo can anybody just tell me why the hell do we speak Afrikaans with each other again? So meaning, we will definitely lose some of our ethnic identity, your identity personifies your being, and so on and on. But it does not mean you have to neglect it. Regards the Government offices, I know Afrikaans is such a beautiful dialect, who can resist the idiomatic speech, but for now I think it should stay out of the offices. In the meanwhile I am taking “a publieke vervoer middle” (taxi) to the nearest Landros Kantoor (magistrate) for the hof berigte. A nice sorry ngo.