The Warmth of An Intangible Voyage
by Delphine Fumar
An accent? After all, do I have any?
Why such a privilege?
What if I said that your English solfege
Remains to us Francophones the strongest one?
That we think, from Finland to Sierra Leone,
“You do not speak like everybody”,
And that, according to you, Native,
Having an accent is, for us, a mere perspective.
Well no, I should now stop pretending,
For those forcefully deprived of an accent,
I blame History and inside I keep bleeding,
For those dispossessed from their own pigment,
To colour the discourses they’d be speaking.
Travelling with my French accent from Reunion,
It’s a piece of its cirques or its volcano I am packing,
When far away from home, my faithful companion.
I decided not to blush anymore with my beautiful lisp,
For us adventurers, an accent is an invisible baggage.
Even when you laugh and call it inappropriate or crisp,
My accent is my country speaking in every message.
It smells like spices, sugarcanes and Bourbon Vanilla.
Now you can hear the waves of my insular language,
Punctuated by the footsteps of slaves on Maloya,
And catch the warmth of an intangible voyage.
Listen, Native English speaker, how I set the decor.
Every word from my mouth turns into a summer melody,
Awakening your curiosity like your papillae around a new flavour.
You are ready to taste tolerance and sing along with me,
Your proper English is merely a political metaphor
To stain your human desire for sociability and bravery.
From Shakespeare to Kanye, who is your best ambassador?
It’s you and me engaging beyond this historical duplicity.
An accent? After all, do we have any?
To whom belongs such a privilege?
What if I said that this linguistic manege
Remains the dogma for the old-fashioned?
That we affirm, from a single voice reunited,
“We speak the language of humanity”,
And that, according to the Prescriptivist,
Having an accent is, for us, a colourful twist.
