The Big Read: It’s time for an isiZulu dawn

Apologies if some people choke on their coffee at the following suggestion, but what if we got real and made the country's most widely spoken language, isiZulu, our official language?

Granted, this will appear disingenuous coming from a man whose mother tongue is isiZulu and whose people are perpetually accused of being too stubborn to open themselves up to learning another language.

We have always touted ourselves as being a proud people - what if we put that into action and changed the language policy?

What if we decided that we didn't mind slipping down the myriad global lists that look at English proficiency?

What if, like the Kenyans with Swahili and English, the government made isiZulu the primary medium, with English and perhaps Afrikaans?

My nephew finds it strange that his isiZulu teacher is an Indian woman who cannot pronounce some of the simplest phrases. Now, imagine if this teacher were proficient in isiZulu, what it would do for her relationship with her pupils, for my nephew's understanding of complex mathematics or scientific problems - and for nation-building.

At his age he doesn't see it as an aberration that his mother tongue has been relegated to an add-on. He's too young to fully grasp the statistics contained in the 2011 census, which found his home language is the most widely spoken in South Africa (22.7% or more than 11.5 million of the population), followed by isiXhosa (16%), Afrikaans (13.5%) and English (9.6%).

He won't question just yet why he isn't being taught by a Zulu educator. Or why English and Afrikaans are compulsory and isiZulu is an afterthought. And by the time he does, I doubt anything will have changed.

He will conceive his theses and presentations in English, because he will have grown up being congratulated for being able to count to 100 in English, but nobody bats an eyelid if he fails to do so in his mother tongue.

Some people argue that it is not the government's job, but rather that of each family or community to ensure children do not lose touch with their culture, language and tradition.

But how will that change when our parents still bend over backwards to get their children into English-speaking schools, so that they are not left behind, even though they are leaving their people and language behind in the process?

English is still seen as the best way forward - it is the language in which our Zulu president speaks to us, it is the language in which our examination papers are set, it is the language on most of our utility bills.

I am aware the government agreed a couple of years ago that all pupils should be taught in their mother tongue for at least the foundation phase of school (grades R -3).

I know that we live in a multicultural and multilingual country, which makes this a hefty task to tackle - a province such as Gauteng, for instance, where almost all 11 of our official languages are spoken, could still mean many pupils would be taught in a language that is not their mother tongue.

It is complex. But it is worth investigating.

It was fascinating listening to some of the comments put to Talk Radio 702 presenter Eusebius McKaiser on Monday, around "politics of the 'twang' (and what it says about you)". I suppose the twang is another form of code-switching.

One of the comments, from a caller named Tshepo, was: "If I am going to learn the English language why can't I apply it to the best of my ability and if it means altering and tweaking my pronunciation to accommodate the English language, why can I not do that?"

Tshepo's point moved away from the understanding and ability to speak English competently, to "accommodating" English and English speakers. He seemed particularly concerned about relating to English speakers.

That has been a perennial issue for me: our habit of folding into ourselves to allow English or Afrikaans speakers to feel more comfortable when communicating with us, without expecting the courtesy to be reciprocated.

I ran a tiny flash poll this week with a handful of South Africa-based friends - some with Nigerian and Zimbabwean parents, others Afrikaans-speaking and coloured, and others Xhosa.

The overwhelming response was that it was long overdue.

One of the more heated responses went something like this: "F**k yeah, let that sh*t happen. I'm 100% down for that. It's unreal to me that it's not [isiZulu as the official language]. Why is Afrikaans on toothpaste and medicine?"