Buffaloes and Spoken English: A Story of Determination and Perseverance

Ayesha Mirza                                                                 

One of my teachers said that if you have nothing left to say, it's about time you started reading more, or, better still, observing more, or, a still better option, experiencing more. I've been doing none of these lately, hence this writer's block.

This teacher I just mentioned used to teach me English literature some ten years ago and always had something to talk about. He is one of those few people whose words inspire me. It was a treat listening to memories of his rustic childhood days. Once, he told us how he learned English in a remote village where all they studied in school was the ABCs and some basic grammar rules. He is, by far, the most authentic person known to me regarding vocabulary and spelling. At least so, when it comes to pronunciation, you'll soon understand why. He used to learn words in his English dictionary by heart, and by the time he was a graduate, he had learned all the words in his dictionary. But he didn't have anyone to tell him about phonetics. So, he remained a constant amusement for his class fellows at G.C. Lahore, as he was wont to pronounce unanimous as un-any-mouse and veteran as wet-ee-ran. This was not unusual for me, though, as I have known people who pronounce giraffe as Jira-fey and buffalo as boo-fallow. But, unlike most of us, that unflinching spirit made it a point to amuse the people around him with his bloopers and perfected his pronunciation (he still pronounces lawyer as laai-yer, though).

Talking of boofellows, they have a substantial contribution to his life; they were his first (perhaps, only) Spoken English academy. Each morning, he would go to the ranch, caress his buffaloes, and start talking to them in English. Buffaloes are very intent listeners, so he says; they never interrupt you, never correct you, never laugh at you, never mimic you, and are courteous enough to occasionally nod their heads and move their tails to show that they are all ears. Unlike men, who keep looking in the space ahead and claim to be listening, you would never complain of a buffalo not being attentive- their firm, yellow gaze on you being cogent evidence.

I have never been a good speaker because I've never raised a buffalo. But following my teacher's advice, I tried one thing; I would lock myself up in the bathroom and stay there for hours on end, talking to my reflection in the mirror. My sister used to share a room with me back then. Soon enough, I had to quit this spoken practice because, with each passing day, my sister was more convinced that I was either possessed or mentally deranged. Hence, I continue to be a not-good speaker, and one of my biggest regrets remains not keeping a pet buffalo.