The French language, which by most estimates is the fifth most widely spoken language in the world, is changing, perhaps not in the gilded corridors of the institution in Paris that publishes its official dictionary, but on the rooftop of Abidjan, the largest city in Ivory Coast.
There one afternoon, the 19-year-old rapper known as “Marla” was rehearsing for her upcoming show, surrounded by friends and empty soda bottles. Its lyrics were mostly French, but the Ivorian slang and the English words it mixed made a new language.
Speaking only in French, Marla, whose real name is Maryam Dossou, said “it’s not acceptable,” combining a French word with slang from Ivory Coast. But a play on words and languages, she said, is the word “choco,” which is short for “chocolate” meaning “sweet” or “elegant.”
There are now a growing number of words and expressions from Africa inculcating into the French language, driven by a growing population of young people in West and Central Africa.
More than 60% of those who speak French daily now live in Africa, and 80% of children who study in French are in Africa. There are a number of French speakers in Kinshasa, the capital of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, as there are in Paris.
Through social media platforms like TikTok and YouTube, they are literally spreading the word, reshaping the French language from African countries, like Ivory Coast, that were once colonized by France.
“We tried to rap purely in French, but no one was listening to us,” said Jean-Patrick Nyambi, known as Dovi, a 24-year-old hip-hop artist from Ivory Coast who listens to Marla on the rooftop. “So we create words from our reality, and then they spread.”
As you walk through the streets of Paris or its suburbs, you can hear people using the word “enjailler” meaning “to enjoy.” But the word originally came from Abidjan to describe how adrenaline-seeking Ivorian youth in the 1980s would jump on and off buses as they raced through the streets.
Africa’s youth population is growing while the rest of the world is graying. Demographers predict that by 2060, up to 85 percent of French speakers will live on the African continent. This is roughly the opposite of what was the case in the 1960s, when 90% of French speakers lived in Europe and other Western countries.
“The French language is flourishing every day in Africa,” said Souleymane Bachir Diagne, a renowned Senegalese professor of philosophy and French at Columbia University. “This French Creole language finds its way into the books we read, the drawings we see on television, and the songs we listen to.”
Nearly half of the countries in Africa were at one time French colonies or protectorates, and most use French as an official language.
But France It has faced growing discontent in recent years in many of these countries because of its colonial legacy and continuing influence. Some countries expelled French ambassadors and troops, while others targeted the French language itself. Some West African novelists write in local languages as a form of artistic resistance. Mali’s ruling military junta has stripped the French language of its official status, and a similar move is underway in Burkina Faso.
The backlash has not gone unnoticed in France, where the development of the French language is sparking discussion, if not concern, among some intellectuals. “France should be proud to be one country among others that learns, speaks and writes in French,” French President Emmanuel Macron said in a 2019 speech.
Language laboratory
In Abidjan’s sprawling Adjami market, there are thousands of small stalls selling electronics, clothes, medicine and counterfeit food. The market is an ideal laboratory for studying Nochi, a slang language once mastered by petty criminals but which has taken over the country in less than four decades.
Some of the former members of the Abidjan gangs, who helped invent Noshi, now work as guards patrolling the market alleys, where “Jassa men” – young crooks – sell goods to make ends meet. Here new expressions are born and die every day.
Germain Arsène Kadi, a literature professor at Hassan Ouattara University in Ivory Coast, entered the market one morning, carrying with him a Noushi dictionary he had written.
At maquis, a street restaurant with plastic tables and chairs, the owner gathered a few gasa men in their corner, or “soï.”“,” To spout their favorite words while they drink Vodka, a mixture of vodka and an energy drink.
“They’ll beat you up,” said the landlord in French, which annoyed me until they explained that the French verb for “to hit,” frapper, had the opposite meaning there: These Jassa guys will treat us well — which they did, throwing in a dozen words and phrases unknown to me in a few minutes. minutes.
Mr. Qazi frantically wrote down new words on his notebook, repeating over and over: “One more for the dictionary.”
It is almost impossible to know which word written on the streets of Abidjan could spread, be transmitted, or even survive.
The word “Go,” which means “girlfriend” in Ivory Coast, was introduced into the popular French dictionary Le Robert this year.
In Abidjan this year, people started calling their friend “mon pain” — French for “my bread.” The improvisations quickly spread: “Pain Choco” is a nice friend. Sugary, sweet bread. Bread that has just come out of the oven is considered a hot partner.
At a church in Abidjan earlier this year, worshipers burst into laughter, several congregants told me, when the pastor preached that people should share their bread with their brothers.
The expression has spread like a meme on social media, reaching neighboring Burkina Faso and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, thousands of miles away. It has not yet arrived in France. But Ivorians like to joke about expressions that the French will pick up, often, years, if not decades, later.
“If the French language becomes more mixed, the worldviews it carries will change,” said José Guibault, the Ivorian poet and philosopher. “And if Africa influences the French language from a linguistic point of view, it is more likely to influence it from an ideological point of view.”
Painful past and uncertain future
Le Magnific – the stage name of Jacques Sylvère Bah – is one of Ivory Coast’s most famous comedians, famous for his word-driven skits and imitations of West African dialects.
But when he was a young boy learning French at school, he was forbidden to speak his own language, “Wobé.” His French was initially so poor that he switched to communicating with gestures on the field.
“We had to learn quickly, and in a painful way,” the 45-year-old Mr. Silver said one afternoon, before taking the stage at the stand-up comedy festival in Abidjan.
In French-speaking West and Central Africa, French is rarely used at home and rarely as the first language, being restricted to school, work, business or administration.
According to a survey published last year by the Organization Francophonie, the main organization promoting French language and culture, 77% of respondents in Africa described French as “the language of the coloniser.” About 57 percent said it was imposed language.
Scholars say its enforcement methods were sometimes brutal. In schools in many French colonies, children who spoke their native language were beaten or forced to wear something around their necks known as a “token”—often a foul-smelling object or animal bone.
However, many African countries adopted French as their official language when they gained independence, partly to strengthen their national identities. Some even kept the symbol in place at school.
At the festival, Le Magnific and other stand-up comedians delivered quips in French and made fun of each other’s accents, drawing laughter from the audience. It doesn’t matter much if a few words are lost in translation.
“The French language is what makes our humor African,” said festival organizer Mohamed Mustafa, known in West Africa by his stage name Maman. Mamani, a comedian from Niger, presents a daily comedy show listened to by millions around the world on Radio France Internationale.
“It’s about survival, if we want to fight back against Nollywood,” he added, referring to Nigeria’s film industry, “and content produced in English.”
Today, more than a third of Ivorians speak French, according to the International Organization of La Francophonie. In Tunisia and the Democratic Republic of the Congo – the largest French-speaking country in the world – the number is more than half.
But in many French-speaking countries, governments struggle to recruit enough French-speaking teachers.
“African children are still learning in French in very difficult circumstances,” said Francine Queminer, program specialist responsible for language policies at the International Organization of La Francophonie. “They must learn to count, write and read in a language they do not fully understand, with teachers who do not always feel safe speaking French.”
However, Ms Kemener said the French language had long ago escaped French control.
“French is an African language and belongs to Africans,” she said. “The decentralization of the French language is a reality.”
France notices
At the Hip-Hop Academy, a youth program founded by rapper Grodash in a Paris suburb, teens and children scribbled song lyrics on notebooks, following instructions to mix French and foreign languages.
Kumba Soumari Camara, 9, tried out a few words from her parents’ native languages, Mauritanian and Senegalese. She ended her duet with “t’es magna” – you’re mean – which combines French syntax with a Mauritanian expression.
Hip-hop now dominates the French music industry, injecting new words, phrases and concepts from Africa into the suburbs and cities of France.
One of the most famous French-speaking pop singers in the world is Aya Nakamura, who is originally from Mali. Many of the most streamed hip-hop artists are of Moroccan, Algerian, Congolese, or Ivorian descent.
“Countless artists have democratized French music with African vernacular,” said Elvis Adedema, executive director of Congolese music at Sony Music Entertainment. “French audiences, from all backgrounds, have become accustomed to those sounds.”
But some in France are slow to accept change. Members of the Académie Française, the 17th-century institution that publishes an official dictionary of the French language, have been working on the same edition for the past forty years.
One recent evening, Dany Laferriere, the Haitian-Canadian novelist and the Academy’s only black member, walked down the gilded corridors of the Academy building, on the left bank of the Seine. He and his fellow academics were reviewing whether the word “yes”, which appeared in French in the 1960s, should be added to the dictionary.
Mr. Laferriere admitted that the academy may need to be updated by incorporating full dictionaries of Belgian French, Senegalese or Ivorian.
“The French language is about to make a big leap, and she is wondering how things will go,” Laferriere said of the French language. “But she’s excited about where she’s headed.”
He paused, stared at the Seine through the window, and corrected himself.
“They, not her. They are now multiple versions of the French language that speak for themselves. This is the greatest evidence of their vitality.”
Luc Roland Kouassi contributed reporting from Abidjan, and Tom Novian from Paris.
In recent years, there has been a noticeable shift in the French language, as African influences have begun to shape its evolution. From the use of humor and slang in everyday speech to the burgeoning popularity of African rap music and literature, Africans are leaving their mark on the language of Molière. This transformation is not only a reflection of the growing presence and influence of African communities in France, but also a testament to the rich cultural exchange taking place between Africa and the Francophone world. As African creators continue to contribute their unique perspectives and creativity to the French language, it is clear that their impact is redefining the way the language is spoken, written, and understood.