Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

I’m in the city that never sleeps. Its skies are always soothing to me. There are three main languages spoken, hundreds more if you really want to dig deeper. I sat across a girl who spoke a language that sounded like music to my ears today. I couldn’t make out anything but I listened just to take it all in. Language here is as important as the air people breathe. You can’t escape it. It’s perhaps one of the first things you accept about being here, that people will speak in a way that is vibrant all on its own. Then there is the language itself. It brings you in whether you understand it or not. It’s a natural asset people readily share to tell their story. They also amplify it as they will. Without language, being here would be boring honestly. I can’t count how many times I have said Abeg, or make una leave that thing alone. Language, in a place where it is acceptable to all, is an asset worth amplifying for all, in its simplest form. The clarity we bring to language, Pidgin English being my favorite, the clarity wey we use to say anything wey we wan say, is the reason why we must protect its vibrancy at all costs. Part of my job these days is to become familiar with what we accept as a people, become familiar with our assets, become familiar with things we ought to amplify, all with the goals of ensuring it leads to healing. Language gives us a certain stability, a certain connectedness, a certain opportunity to heal ourselves vibrantly. It’s for this reason I ask that you keep it, make una keep wetin una dey use speak well well ooh.