The madness called English language

English is, unquestionably, a global asset. It is one language used either as a first language (mother tongue), a second language (official language) or a foreign language by one-third of the world population. It is, especially, an instrument of unison in linguistically pluralistic and ethnically heterogenous countries like Nigeria. Besides, it is the language of upward mobility and social significance in our climes. Hit a Nigerian crowd with grandiloquence or high-sounding words (what you call BIG BIG ENGLISH) and, you may rest assured that you’ll attain momentary superstardom, whether or not your message is clear. Notwithstanding the reputation of the English language globally and in Nigeria specifically, it comes with a plethora of inherent inconsistencies which can best be described as “madness.”

You might be inclined to wonder which other language uses “went,” while you are still planning to head for/towards somewhere. It then follows that the grammar of the language orders you to say: “It is time/high time/about time I went,” when you mean to inform others that you hope to leave soon. In a similar vein, it is incumbent upon you to say “I would rather you prepared the food,” even when you might not have got the ingredients.

In what other language are you obliged to say “how do you do?” when a person says ‘how do you do?” to you? In English, grammaticality could almost be tantamount to insanity. But for that, how do we justify having to admire a person’s glasses by saying, “Your glasses are nice. Where did you buy them?” We are only safe from this kind of expression that can earn one a scornful look when one uses partitives, otherwise known as units of quantification. Hence, we say: “Your pair of glasses is nice. Where did you buy it?” Next to the foregoing, has it ever occurred to you that while “forecasted” enjoys currency and pervasive usage in English, “broadcasted” and “casted” are decidedly regarded as ungrammatical and inadmissible?

As though the wonderment that attends the aforementioned lexical realities won’t suffice, did you know that “fruit” is considered uncountable in the general sense, while “vegetable” is adjudged as countable? In the light of these contrasting nominal designations, you are expected to say, “Doctor Bamgbose eats a lot of fruit and vegetables at weekends;” not “Doctor Bamgbose eats a lot of fruits and vegetables at weekends.” Again, why is “thieves” the plural of “thief,” but “chiefs” the plural of “chief”? Meanwhile, I am duty bound to disclose to the general reader that a person who is duped is called a “dupe.” This is contrary to the erroneous perception of numerous people that it is the conman or fraudster that is labelled a “dupe.” And it gets even more dramatic! Have you ever felt confounded by the fact that a benefactor could reply to an individual who appreciates his/her generous or altruistic gestures by saying, “Don’t mention it” — even after the grateful party has “mentioned it”? With that being said, I presume that the readership are aware that a “rude” person comes across as “uncouth,” “impudent” and “discourteous.”

Bizarrely, however, when someone appears very healthy, such a person could be adjudged to be in “rude health.” And this begs the question: what correlation does “rude” have with one’s “health”? Moreover, it beggars belief as to why one should request children’s wear (two words), ladies’ wear (two words) and menswear (one word without an apostrophe) — not mens’ wear — in a boutique or store. Before this slips my mind, I think we should also probe the rationale for saying, “I’m in a hurry” or “I’m in haste” — not “I’m in a haste.” Why was “a” expunged from the latter expression, in spite of the fact that “hurry” is synonymous with “haste”?

Only a linguistically mad language will have inflammable as another word for flammable, with both meaning that something could be easily set on fire.

Comparatively, “invaluable” is, in point of fact, a higher degree of being “valuable” — they aren’t opposites! In a similar fashion, “loosen” is an alternative word for “unloosen.” Resignedly, we are so used to the madness that it bothers no one that there is no apple in pineapple, no dog in hot dog and, definitely, no egg in eggplant.

In sum, when Nigerians ask me why the language is “mad” and replete with a flurry of intrigue, I often inquire in return: is it your language?