Language Shaming and the Myth of Good English | Yiviri, woo wan Tombir

Every day on Facebook, and indeed, across the Anglophone community, I encounter posts and comments mocking Nso (not Banso) people for their so-called "inability to speak good English." It is baffling how speaking Lamnso, my native language, the tongue of my ancestors, is often dismissed as “exaggeration” by fellow Cameroonians. It is not uncommon to hear people say: “Nso people di over exaggerate with this their Lamnso”. And why should I switch to English with someone who understands Lamnso perfectly? To what end? To perform colonial respectability? To satisfy some arbitrary hierarchy of linguistic prestige? If that isn’t witchcraft, I don’t know what is.

This is not a new phenomenon; it is a tired tradition, deeply ingrained in our neighborhoods, classrooms, and social gatherings.

What those who engage in such mockery fail to realize is the profound damage this does, not just to individuals, but to our collective humanity. During my university days, I witnessed classmates silenced by fear of being taunted or humiliated by choruses of “Bansu Tung” over a simple mispronunciation, and bright minds shrinking into self-doubt because of relentless linguistic policing. The psychological toll is real: trauma, low self-esteem, and a stifling of voices that deserve to be heard.

Yet, here’s the irony: within the Anglophone community, Nso people are among the most educated and intellectually accomplished. I’ve seen Nso students solve complex mathematical equations in Lamnso and excel in their exams. During my university days, we studied English phonology in Lamso, and emerged at the top of class. Our intelligence is undeniable. So why reduce our worth to the way we speak English?

The Myth of “Good English”.

For those unfamiliar with language learning, what is often dismissed as “bad English” is actually language transfer, a natural phenomenon where one’s first language influences the learning of a second. Lamnso, like all languages, has its own phonetic rules, which systematically shape how its speakers speak English. For instance:

Nso people generally replace the English diphthong /əʊ/ with the /uː/ sound and the monophthong /e/ with the /ɪ/ sound, and many others. This means that a Nso man would pronounce phone /fəʊn/ as /fuːn/, coat /kəʊt/ as /kuːt/; mesh /meʃ/ as /mɪʃ/. So yes, that is normal about language learning. This is not a deficiency; it is a universal part of language acquisition

A Question for the Mockers

Which "good English" are you referring to? Do you know that ONLY 2-3% of British people natively speak Received Pronunciation (RP), the prestige accent often touted as the "correct" standard. The vast majority speak regional varieties: Geordie, Cockney, Scouse, each with its own deviations from the so-called norm. If the British themselves do not respect the RP, why must Cameroonians police each other’s speech?

Language as a Tool, Not a Trophy

I do not dispute the importance of English. It is the language of global opportunity, science, and technology. But let’s be clear: speaking “good English” does not equate to intelligence, nor does it guarantee success. English is a means to an end; its true value lies in how you use it to leverage your skills, not in how closely you mimic a BBC presenter.

So, to those who find joy in ridiculing “Bansu Tung,” I ask: What does your mockery achieve? Does it elevate you? Does it contribute to your community? Or does it merely expose your own ignorance about how language learning works?

It’s time to move beyond this petty prejudice. Let’s celebrate the brilliance of Nso people, the resilience of all who learn English as an additional language, and the richness of our linguistic diversity. After all, can a British person speak Lamnso like I do? Why should we aspire to speak English like them? What matters to me is intelligibility, and not some fake British accent

Intelligence is not measured by accent. It is measured by what you do with what you know.

Yiviri, woo wan Tombir.

Proud daughter of Nso