I was reading a post in Ghulf Genes http://arsendarnay.blogspot.com/2011/02/void-indeed.html about languages, specifically how easy it is to write a paragraph in German without using any words derived from non-Germanic lingos such as Latin and Greek, whereas try the same trick in The Queen's English and see how quickly you will be at "a full stop"! You end up with a sock full of Norman French in your mouth - hardly anyone's idea of an amuse-bouche ( or amuse-gueule as I was taught) - and you find yourself a Pilgrim in the Slough of Despond!
As I read, I realized that the dynamics of the English as we know it was that of a Pidgin of Anglo-Saxon and Norman French which the inhabitants of England adopted in order to communicate with their imperialist overlord, William the Conqueror and his brood.
I had indeed read of the process, and it had always been described as an amalgam of Anglo-Saxon and French and "we say lamb, they say mutton" but the explanation never had the robust feeling of living reality as did the realization that it was Pidgin.
Why? Because there are living pidgins to observe and participate in. I myself sometimes say a few phrases in Nigerian Pidgin, which was the lingo the Nigerian musician Fela choose to record in in order that the various tribes and several many dialects of Nigeria could be addressed equally by his song. It is not a "small-small" thing.
Of course, I suppose one of the reasons that English was never described this way was the fact that in my day there was always a sense of condescension towards speakers of Pidgins: the palates and tongues that wrestled with such inelegant lingo inhabited New Guinea, Haiti, the coast of Africa... and other places we were very fond of looking down on; that is to say, we looked down on them when we were not considering them exotic or ripe for exploitation.
It would be hard to call English a form of Pidgin just after getting done telling a joke about no tickee-no washee; it just would not do. I often wonder how much understanding we have missed due to our inveterate racism. A bit, I suppose, a bit.
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