CHAPTER XI

Language

The language spoken in Toro is Lunyoro, and quite distinct from that used in Uganda; but it is undoubtedly the parent dialect and almost identical with that spoken in the Kingdoms of Unyoro and Ankole, besides being very generally understood by the tribes beyond Ruwenzori.

For the first three years, Missionary work in these districts was carried on in Luganda, as neither the European nor Baganda teachers had sufficient knowledge of Lunyoro, and there were no books or reading-sheets in the language. Luganda was understood by some of the upper class men and a few women, but it was scarcely ever spoken, and none of the peasants were acquainted with it. Until these people could have their religion and reading-books in their own tongue, it seemed as if vital Christianity must remain more or less outside their actual lives. So towards the end of 1899 Mr. Maddox went up to Toro with the intention of studying and reducing the language of the people to writing.

When we arrived in 1900 a little reading-sheet had been printed, and St. Matthew’s Gospel was in hand. But there was no book or literature to help us, and as the natives did not understand one word of English it seemed a hopeless difficulty. Miss Pike, my companion, had studied Luganda for six months, so was able to speak with those who knew it, and through interpretation to those who did not. By this means she piloted us both through those first days when the house was thronged with people from morning till night, and they pelted us with kind remarks and every imaginable and unimaginable question. I never felt so absolutely stupid as when they addressed me with a torrent of eloquence, until the idea struck me of retaliating with a continuous flow of English. It pleased them immensely, but certainly did not check them.

The third day after our arrival, Mr. Maddox kindly gave us our first lesson in Lunyoro. He was trying to impress on us that the words were largely formed by prefixes and suffixes, so one had only to find the stem and it was all right. “Tinkakimuherayoga” was obviously, said he, from the verb “okuhu,” to give; find that, the meaning of the word was made plain: “I have never given it to him there”! My mind was chaotic, and I wondered if it ever would be anything else.

After a few weeks our patient teacher had to go off on an itinerating trip, so we were left alone to flounder through the quagmires. I believe the best and quickest way of acquiring a new tongue is to summon up all the courage you possess and go in and out among the people until you adopt it much in the same way as an infant does its mother language. Undoubtedly it requires pluck. The first time I ventured forth with a remark, peals of laughter came from my audience, which almost quenched the one spark of courage left. Afterwards I learned this was a mark of their appreciation!

In the fifth month, and after a great deal of hard persuasion, I decided on attempting to take a daily Bible Class. As the 8.0 morning drum sounded and I made my way to the church, my nerve powers fell below zero, and I felt decidedly limp. The words “Who hath made man’s mouth; I will be with thy mouth” pulled me together a bit, and I hurried in to my class to find between twenty and thirty women waiting for their teacher. Talking for one whole hour was a terrible tax on my vocabulary, and must have been even a greater tax on the endurance of the class. I was quite done when they were in a questioning mood; it would have been bad enough if there had been no foreign language to understand. The very first morning they asked me about Michael disputing with Satan over the body of Moses!

It is rather surprising to find that such simple people possess so advanced a form of etymology. The parts of speech and general construction in a broad sense resemble the other dialects of the Bantu class, but the verbs are very complex and more technically developed than its offsprings, Luganda and Swahili. All our English tenses are employed besides several others met with in Greek. Most of these effect a complete change in the relative form. Verbs practically dominate all the other parts of speech; the nouns, with very few exceptions, are their parasites. A few straggling prefixes tacked on to the verb root are the only attempts the nouns make toward an individuality of their own. Adverbs and prepositions are rarely granted an independent existence. They add to the corpulence of the verb by being absorbed in it. The perfect harmony between nouns, adjectives, and verbs is a veritable man-trap, for a native will rarely understand a discord, however untutored he may be. Besides grammar and pronunciation, there are two other important things to study—the proverbs, and the mode of expressing ideas. The Batoro are not quite so versed in the metaphorical form of speech as the Baganda, who are capable of carrying on a lengthy conversation in the most mystical and involved proverbs, only quoting the first two or three words of each, and quite expecting you to imagine the rest. I trembled literally when this was first told me, for I had never been able to get beyond “never too late to mend” in English proverbs. But Lunyoro is really kinder in this respect. They do, however, exist in spasmodic forms. If you want to really win the love and confidence of the people you have to make a regular business of learning their catch expressions and idioms, and dropping completely the habit of translating English into Lunyoro, then they will confer on you their highest degree “Oli Mutoro,” “you are a native of Toro.”

The Batoro have what I believe is a unique custom among these tribes, that is, every mother gives a pet name to her child, and this clings to him always; it is used when addressing as a token of love or respect by friends and dependents. Ana Kageye constituted herself my African “Mother,” and straight away gave me the name “Adyeri” (pronounced Ar-de-air-y). This was very readily taken up by the people, as my name absolutely beat them. Only the King and one or two others got so near as “Hurudeki,” and really it took some time to answer up to “Beki” “Deki” “Heki” “Bodeki” “Hedeki” and even “Paratata,” which were all supposed to be “Hurditch.” Really, to save the poor family name from such rough treatment I was not sorry to put it away entirely except in memory.

In less than five years a great deal has been accomplished in translation, and with the exception of a few hymns, it has been entirely undertaken by the one missionary who has also been responsible for direct mission work. During that period the New Testament, the Prayer Book with Psalms, two Catechisms, a hymn book of nearly one hundred hymns, and a reading sheet for learners have been completed in the language of the people. Since Lunyoro was adopted in place of the neighbouring dialect of Luganda, the work has gone forward in leaps and bounds, and to it must be attributed largely the wide spread of Christianity among the peasants in the villages. It is not an uncommon thing to find a village that has given up devil-worship, not through the instrumentality of a European or native teacher, but simply through the people having learned to read the Bible for themselves from someone who had been instructed in the alphabet or syllables.

When Mr. Maddox was about to leave Toro for England, the King and chiefs came together and presented to him a letter signed by a very large number of Christian men. In it they expressed their warm appreciation of all the work he had done for them in translating the books, and earnestly hoped he would soon return to them again. These books form the entire library of the Batoro. They are most insatiable readers, and as you pass along the roads any hour in the day you will hear a voice here and there issuing from the little grass huts reading in loud measured tones from the Bible. It is impossible to estimate the purifying and sanctifying influence this literature has had on the national and family life. The conquering martial strains of the “Onward Christian Soldiers” have displaced and driven out of the country the old songs of plunder and bloodshed. Instead of the little children learning demoralising heathen songs and dances they are being taught to sing such hymns as “I think when I read that sweet story of old.” Right away among the creeks and crevices of the ancient Mountains of the Moon, on the very borders of the great primaeval forests inhabited by the little pigmy tribe, you hear to-day the strains of these Christian hymns.