Language Contact in the Danish West Indies: Giving Jack His Jacket Brill’S Studies in Language, Cognition and Culture

Language Contact in the Danish West Indies: Giving Jack His Jacket Brill’s Studies in Language, Cognition and Culture

Series Editors Alexandra Y. Aikhenvald Cairns Institute, James Cook University R.M.W. Dixon Cairns Institute, James Cook University N.J. Enfield Max Planck Institute for Psycholinguistics, Nijmegen

VOLUME 1

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.nl/bslc Language Contact in the Danish West Indies: Giving Jack His Jacket

By Robin Sabino Auburn University

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2012 Cover illustration: This drawing of Charlotte Amalie on the cover was presented in the Company Court on 19 November 1734 during a case that addressed a flooding of land belonging to Jan de Windt, near Fort Christian. The original image is held by the Danish State Archives, Vestindisk-guineisk Kompagni, Kompagniretten, box 259.

The audio files that accompany the third appendix in the volume are taken from the author’s conversations with the last native speaker of Negerhollands, Mrs. Alice Stevens. To download the files please go to http://dx.doi.org/10.1163/9789004230705.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Sabino, Robin. Language contact in the Danish West Indies : giving Jack his jacket / by Robin Sabino. p. cm. — (Brill’s studies in language, cognition and culture; 1) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-90-04-22540-4 (alk. paper)—ISBN 978-90-04-23070-5 (e-book : alk. paper) 1. Creole dialects, Dutch—Virgin Islands of the United States. 2. Languages in contact—Virgin Islands of the United States. 3. Language and languages—Variation. 4. Virgin Islands of the United States— Languages. I. Title.

PM7864.V5S34 2012 306.44097297’22—dc23 2012018951

This publication has been typeset in the multilingual “Brill” typeface. With over 5,100 characters covering Latin, IPA, Greek, and Cyrillic, this typeface is especially suitable for use in the humanities. For more information, please see www.brill.nl/brill-typeface.

ISSN 1897-5412 ISBN 978 90 04 22540 4 (hardback) ISBN 978 90 04 23070 5 (e-book)

Copyright 2012 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Global Oriental, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers and Martinus Nijhoff Publishers.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher.

Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change.

This book is printed on acid-free paper. contents

List of Tables ...... ix List of Illustrations ...... xi Abbreviations ...... xiii Symbols ...... xv Acknowledgments ...... xvii Preface ...... xxi

0 Introduction What’s in a Name? ...... 1 0.0 Introduction ...... 1 0.1 A Very Brief History of the Term Creole ...... 2 0.2 Why the Danish West Indies is a Useful Case Study ...... 3 0.3 A Matter of Method ...... 5 0.3.1 Linguistic Sources ...... 6 0.3.2 Revising the Linguistic History of the Danish West Indies ...... 7 0.4 Retelling the Colony’s Linguistic Story ...... 10

1 Hubristic Eurocentricism: Grammar and the Colonial Mindset .... 11 1.0 Introduction ...... 11 1.1 Eschewing Barbarisms ...... 11 1.2 Developing Europe’s Cultural Lens ...... 15 1.3 Cultural Contact in the Caribbean ...... 23 1.4 The Intellectual Milieu and Linguistic Analysis ...... 26 1.5 Summary ...... 30

2 The Colonial Response: Community Building and Language Creation ...... 31 2.0 Introduction ...... 31 2.1 Identity and Linguistic Community ...... 32 2.2 Ideological Clash in the Danish West Indies ...... 35 2.3 Building Community ...... 41 2.4 Communal Identity and Language ...... 44 2.4.1 The Internal Differentiation of Negerhollands ...... 48 2.5 Summary ...... 49 vi contents

3 A History and Demography of the Danish West Indies ...... 51 3.0 Introduction ...... 52 3.1 Colonization and the Struggle for Survival ...... 54 3.2 Population Stability and the Emergence of Negerhollands ...... 59 3.3 What Languages Did the Creators of Negerhollands Speak? . 64 3.4 Prosperity and the Emergence of Hoch Kreol ...... 67 3.5 Territorial Expansion ...... 68 3.6 The Free Afro-Caribbean Population ...... 70 3.7 The Shift to English and Virgin Islands English Creole ..... 71 3.8 Summary ...... 77

4 Virgin Islands Dutch Creole: Documentation and Interpretation . 79 4.0 Introduction ...... 79 4.1 Evangelical Activity and Virgin Island Dutch Creole ...... 80 4.2 Language and the Urban Afro-Caribbean Community ...... 91 4.3 Scholarly Activity and Virgin Island Dutch Creole ...... 92 4.4 Language Death: A Red Herring ...... 95 4.5 Abandoning Previous Assumptions ...... 96 4.6 Summary ...... 98

5 Language Learning and Situational Constraints ...... 99 5.0 Introduction ...... 99 5.1 Age of Arrival ...... 101 5.2 Trauma and Anxiety ...... 106 5.3 Aptitude and Multilingualism ...... 109 5.4 Intentionality and Investment ...... 110 5.5 Sex ...... 112 5.6 Summary ...... 113

6 Deploying Linguistic Resources ...... 115 6.0 Introduction ...... 115 6.1 Input ...... 116 6.1.1 Input Negotiation ...... 120 6.1.2 Input Processing ...... 123 6.2 Output ...... 125 6.3 Language Emergence in the Afro-Caribbean Community . 125 6.4 Heritage Language Influence ...... 127 6.5 Summary ...... 130 contents vii

7 Interlingual Influence: Phonology ...... 133 7.0 Introduction ...... 133 7.1 Segmental Inventories ...... 135 7.1.1 Negerhollands Vowels ...... 136 7.1.2 Negerhollands Consonants ...... 139 7.2 Negerhollands Syllable Structure ...... 144 7.2.1 Positive Transfer ...... 147 7.2.2 Segmental Reanalysis ...... 148 7.2.3 The Addition of Non-Etymological Vowels ...... 148 7.2.4 The Elimination of Etymological Consonants ...... 149 7.2.5 Metathesis ...... 151 7.2.6 Homo-Organic Nasal-Stop Sequences ...... 152 7.3 Ordering Developmental Patterns ...... 153 7.4 Summary ...... 154

8 Interlingual Influence: Plural Marking ...... 157 8.0 Introduction ...... 157 8.1 Plural Marking in Negerhollands ...... 158 8.1.1 Negerhollands Plural Forms ...... 159 8.1.2 Semantic and Pragmatic Conditioning ...... 161 8.1.3 The Negerhollands Associative Plural ...... 164 8.2 Hoch Kreol and the Language of the Evangelical Texts .... 165 8.3 Summary ...... 168

9 Interlingual Influence: Verb Serialization ...... 171 9.0 Introduction ...... 171 9.1 Negerhollands Two-Verb Serial Verb Constructions ...... 174 9.1.1 Negerhollands /lo/ ...... 174 9.1.2 Negerhollands /kaba/, /stat/, and /bigin/ ...... 177 9.1.3 Negerhollands /ko(m)/ ...... 178 9.1.4 Negerhollands /gi/ ...... 180 9.1.5 Negerhollands /ne/ ...... 182 9.1.6 Negerhollands /se/ ...... 183 9.1.7 Negerhollands /maŋke/ and /wɛl/ ...... 185 9.1.8 Negerhollands /ma(k)/ ...... 187 9.2 Negerhollands Multiverb Serial Verb Constructions ...... 188 9.3 A Proposed History of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole Serial Verb Constructions ...... 189 9.3.1 How did Serial Verb Constructions Emerge? ...... 189 viii contents

9.3.2 When did Negerhollands Serial Verb Constructions Emerge? ...... 190 9.3.3 Verb Serialization Prior to the Twentieth Century ...... 191 9.4 Hoch Kreol Verb Sequences ...... 194 9.5 Summary ...... 196

10 Conclusion ...... 199

Appendix One Some Notes on the Creole Language of the Danish West Indian Islands ...... 209 Appendix Two The Danish West Indian Creole Language ...... 223 Appendix Three Glossary of Variable Virgin Islands Dutch Creole Forms ...... 233

Bibliography ...... 293 Author Index ...... 325 Subject Index ...... 332 List of Tables

1. Negerhollands consultants and the data they produced ...... 6 2. Taxonomy of the genus Homo ...... 19 3. Community characteristics in the Danish West Indies ...... 37 4. Enslaved persons owned by émigré households from St. Eustatius ...... 58 5. Household types on St. Thomas between 1680 and 1692 ...... 60 6. Number of enslaved persons in 24 mixed households from 1680 to 1691 ...... 62 7. Growth of the St. Thomas colony ...... 63 8. Africans arriving in St. Thomas between 1673 and 1688 ...... 65 9. Population of the Danish West Indies 1755–1815 ...... 71 10. English, Ewe, and Virgin Islands Dutch Creole interrogative forms ...... 97 11. African children arriving in St. Thomas 1692–1700 ...... 103 12. The St. Thomas Afro-Caribbean population 1680–1691 ...... 104 13. Deaths on seventeenth-century Danish transatlantic crossings ...... 108 14. Some Negerhollands features influenced by (New) Kwa languages ...... 130 15. Comparison of (New) Kwa and Negerhollands consonant phonemes ...... 142 16. Proportion of CV syllables in (New) Kwa and Germanic languages and in varieties of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole ...... 146 17. Negerhollands words with CV(C) structure ...... 150 18. Distribution of marked and unmarked Negerhollands non-singular nouns ...... 162 19. Referents for 209 definite, semantically plural Negerhollands nouns ...... 163 20. Distribution of marked and unmarked Hoch Kreol non-singular nouns ...... 166 21. Referents for definite, semantically plural Hoch Kreol nouns ..... 167 22. Plural marking in three Gospel Harmonies ...... 168 23. The number serial verb constructions and /fo/ complements for /maŋke/ and /wɛl/ ...... 186 24. Translation equivalents of Hoch Kreol verb + verb sequences ..... 195

List of Illustrations

1. Settlement dates for the Danish West Indies ...... 1 2. A portion of the 1691 Land Lister ...... 25 3. Punitive amputation ...... 40 4. A map of the Danish West Indies and a view of the St. Thomas Harbor ...... 51 5. Population in mixed St. Thomas households 1680–1691 ...... 61 6. Negerhollands contrastive vowels ...... 136 7. A hierarchical view of the syllable ...... 144 8. A developmental path for Negerhollands plural forms ...... 160 9. A decision tree for Negerhollands plural marking ...... 163 10. A grammaticalization chain for Negerhollands /lo/ ...... 176 11. Percent of Negerhollands directional serial verb constructions by speaker ...... 179 12. The syntactic structure of infinitival complements ...... 196 13. Mrs. Alice Stevens and the author ...... 206 14. Entry format ...... 234

Abbreviations

1 first person 2 second person 3 third person backg background/out of sequence clause C consonant caus causitive comp complementizer dira direction away from speaker or point of reference dirt direction towards speaker or point of reference ipfv imperfective imp imperative irr irrealis N nasal segment neg negative nom nominative loc locative pst past pfv perfective pfut proximate future poss possessive pl plural purp purposive r/h fut remote/hypothetical future rec recipient sg singular sup superlative V vowel

Symbols

{ } code switched material italics orthographic form [ ] phonetic representation / / phonological representation . syllable boundary * unattested form ** ungrammatical form ( ) optional element

Acknowledgments

A tireless preserver of Virgin Islands language and culture, Raphael (Lito) Valls describes creole as “the language of our heart.” His Ole Time Sayings: Proverbs of the West Indies not only encode this community’s soul, they give voice to people who too often were silenced in written history. For this reason, the proverbs, sayings, and quotes recast in the standardized spelling of today’s Virgin Islands community that head most of the chapters are not decorative; they are crucial evidence for the points I raise. Multidisciplinary projects like this one often require years of thought and research, and they draw on the expertise of a considerable number of people. Sadly, several of those who contributed to this project are no longer living: Freida Collins, Norma and John Weston, and, most of all, Jose Sabino patiently helped me to extend my vision of the world and to learn Virgin Islands English Creole. Mrs. Alice Stevens taught me Negerhollands. Without her quick mind and generous spirit, we would know far less about this language than we do. Mrs. Gertrude Reichenbach taught me Dutch, and when my learning failed, she translated Dutch into English. She also gave me her copy of de Jong’s (1926) monograph. Blanche Souffront unearthed the article translated in Appendix II. Hans Den Besten shared both his insights and publications. Without the generous assistance of all these individuals, this project would not have been possible. I am able to thank other colleagues and friends for their encourage- ment, assistance, and support. Anna Katrin Gramberg and I worked together on the translations that appear in appendices I and II, and our conversations helped to clarify my thinking about the ways in which the St. Thomas Afro-Caribbean middle class developed the language of their communty. Jane and Mike Sheen shared their image collection and their love of West Indian furniture. It was they who pointed me to the image on the book’s cover. Beverly Smith, of the Von Scholten Collection, Enid M. Baa Public Library and Archives on St. Thomas, and the Interlibrary Loan Department, especially Pambanisha Whaley, and the Media and Digital Resource Lab staff at Auburn University Libraries, especially Gerrit Dewitt, provided invaluable assistance to the project. Jean Joiner, a staff member in Auburn University’s English Department, administered grant monies and obtained several essential secondary sources. Peter I. Berg of Special Collections & Preservation, Michigan State University Libraries, xviii acknowledgments located the image in Figure 4. Erik Gøbel, Senior Researcher, Danish National Archives, provided me with a digital copy and story behind the image on the book’s cover. He also sent me a copy of the 1680 Land Lister and commented on a variety of issues, including a draft of Appendix II. Efrossini Albrecht-Piliouni and Ulrich Albrecht provided English translations of portions of the 2000 German edition of Oldendorph’s monograph. Mysser Hall generously granted permission for the quotations from Slave Society in the Danish West Indies. Comments from members of the Society for Caribbean Linguistics and the Southeastern Conference on Linguis- tics have helped to shape my thinking at a number of points. Other colleagues have shared publications and work in progress, and have raised useful points and answered questions in correspondence. I am especially indebted to John Holm, who provided me with a photocopy of Hale’s transcription of Magens’s (1770) grammar and dialogues, and to Cefas van Rossem, who provided me with a copy of Nelson’s (1936) word list. Gil- bert Sprauve is in many ways responsible for the scholar I am today. He nurtured my early interest in linguistics. Later he introduced me to Mrs. Stevens and provided me with copies of his publications. Thomas Klein, Edith Moravcsik, Pat Morrow, Michele Valerie Ronnick, Kevin Roozen, Gil- bert Sprauve, Isabelle Thompson, Ralf Thiede, Gay Washburn, and members of a faculty writing group at Auburn University generously read and commented on chapters as they were being crafted. Paula Backscheider did that and more: Her enthusiasm at crucial junctures turned torrents of uncertainty into fordable streams. Her guidance with respect to grant writing and advice about the publication process were instrumental in transforming a notion into reality. Nancy Haak and Joyce Rothschild read all of the chapters! I do not have words to express how grateful I am to both of them for sharing their expertise. Ron Lewis helped me to fashion the project from beginning to end. He too read all the chapters, many of them multiple times, but always with good humor and a sharply critical mind and eye. As a result, with each reading the argument became more coherent and the text more writerly. At critical junctures, when I wondered if I could tell this story that unfolds in the following pages, he assured me that I would. In the last stages of the project, he readied the Figures for publication. Jasmin Lange, my editor at Brill, provided invaluable guidance and advice as I readied the manuscript for review and later for publication. I am deeply grateful to John McWhorter and an anonymous reader for their affirming reader reports. Field work reported in this project was partially underwritten by The National Science Foundation (BNS-8813415) and The American acknowledgments xix

Philosophical Society. The initial development of the glossary that appears as Appendix III was made possible in part by an award from the Humani- ties Endowment Fund, Matching Fund, and the Research Grant-in-Aid Competitive Grants Program at Auburn University. The project has also received support from the University’s College of Liberal Arts and the Department of English at Auburn University, which supported the project in a number of ways: a faculty improvement leave made possible the completion of the introduction and chapters 1 through 4 and departmen- tal support allowed Jamie Kinsley to format the bibliography and to check it for completeness. A professional improvement leave from the Office of the Provost’s at Auburn University allowed me to complete the remaining chapters. Many years ago, Gilbert Sprauve explained to me that researchers must write in order to repay the debt they accrued by reading. The chapters that follow are a payment, I hope with interest, of a debt long overdue.

Opelika, Alabama June 14, 2011

PREFACE

In selecting the title Giving Jack his Jacket, the author, Robin Sabino immediately points to the chief concern of the book and to the physical location of that concern. The concern is contested ownership. The text will seek to repair a breach, to redress a wrong to give something (a Jacket) back to its rightful owner. The environment will be the Caribbean where a Jacket is a child whose reputed father ( Jack) is given as his own, a child he did not father, a Jacket). Other terms for the same phenomenon are “Readymade Shirt” and “Poke”. There is a tongue in cheek overtone inherent in the latter interpretation. Jack, after all the research, is found to be NOT the biological father of the child. We are about to be told a new and more believable narrative associated with an old tale. According to the old narrative, the language, Negerhollands (Virgin Islands Dutch Creole) resulted from the effort of “Dutch planters who taught their language to those they held in bondage although the latter failed to learn it fully”. The new narrative however, the scenario the book describes is different. Its details “emerge in the work of such scholars as Sprauve, Graves, Highfield, N. Hall, Olwig, Sensbach” and indeed this history is supported by the very name of the language NEG- ERhollands. The language secures its place among the new languages created by Afro-Caribbean communities whose people, having been served one of the “most unkindest” hands in history have managed to survive and to play with distinction. Language is part of that survival. But Negerhollands is not the sole concern of this book. It takes time to look as well at Caribbean creoles in general and to underline the similarities in all their histories no matter which European territory was the colonizer. So Negerhollands is placed within a larger Caribbean context. The story of the emergence of Dutch Creole in the Danish West Indies becomes an important addition to the sparse literature on Dutch related creoles in the region. Comparative Creole studies will be deepened as a result of access to the information provided here. Community is at the heart of this study. Language is the expression of the culture of the community and the entity that secures its distinct identity. Languages emerge related to discrete communities within the environment under consideration. There is the community of African enslaved people facing conditions considered more cruel and inhumane than those experienced elsewhere in the Caribbean. Their identity is xxii preface bound up with the emerging Negerhollands which remains separate from the language of that other community, the Euro-Caribbean masters and their children. They speak a European language which does not escape entirely the effect of the language spoken by the enslaved people working in their homes and bringing up their children. And herein lies the web of confusion which this text so carefully untangles. What emerges there is “Hoch Kreol” a non-creolized language with some features of Negerhol- lands. Predictably, it is this language that is documented in Magens’ prescriptive grammar. With regard to the Danish West Indies the Dutch related languages are not the only concern of this book. The emergence of English and an Eng- lish Creole as the languages of the city and of people associated with modern living including communication with foreign nationals is described with the same detailed care with which Sabino treats all her interests. The narrative with regard to these languages throws light on their increasing dominance since the mid nineteenth century. The community of linguists and historians who research the Caribbean will welcome and appreciate this book for its painstaking reconstruction and description of a somewhat neglected scene. The author pays tribute to earlier scholars whose studies, pointed to the direction which this book would take. These include Gilbert Sprauve (whose insistence on teaching a course in Dutch Creole at the University of the Virgin Islands using the physical presence (in the eighties) and the data from interviews with the primary informant for this book, Mrs. Stevens, the last speaker of Dutch Cre- ole in the Virgin Islands, must be commended). And if the book is a tribute to any one person it is to Mrs. Stevens of blessed memory without whose interest and cooperation it could not have been written in this way. Above all this is a book for linguist and layman alike. The language is clear and devoid of the linguistic jargon that might deter the layman reader. There are descriptions of language but these are mostly in the appendices and where they are in the body of the text the implications are so clearly explained that comprehension is not compromised. Simple but important questions like why a Dutch related Creole in a Danish colonized situation or why an English Creole so long before the American ownership of the islands, are answered incidentally. Here in one location, is the culture history of one of the lesser known creoles of the Caribbean in language that is eminently accessible. By the end of the story Jackets have been assigned to all the Jacks who should have them.

Velma Pollard Kingston, Jamaica January 24, 2012 Introduction

WHAT’S IN A NAME?

Trial make mention.1 (Virgin Islands proverb)

St. Thomas, 1672 St. John, 1718

St. Croix, 1733

0 15 miles 0 15 kilometers

Figure 1. The settlement and expansion of the Danish West Indies (adapted from a map of U.S. Virgin Islands and British Virgin Islands prepared by the Cental Intelligence Agency)2

0.0 Introduction

For roses, naming does not seem to make much difference, but in history, as in love, names can matter a great deal. This is because histories, like other narratives, often reflect only the narrator’s point of view. The story of the largest population movement in human history is one such

1 Recognition is due those who overcome adversity. 2 The original image is available at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Virgin_Islands- map-CIA.jpg). 2 introduction

narrative. Europeans’ transformation of what for them was the New World, decimated Indigenous peoples and altered the lives of tens of thousands of Europeans, twelve and a half million transported Africans (Eltis 2007), and untold numbers of others who lost family and friends. Europeans recorded little detail about the subaltern populations affected by the hardships of building colonial infrastructures. In consequence, we know far more about the lives of colonists, prisoners, the indentured, soldiers, and government officials than we do about either the Africans or the Indigenous peoples whose lives were brutally disrupted. As a result, although history records that cultural contact transformed lives and languages, exactly how and under what conditions today’s vibrant Caribbean languages developed remains a subject of often contentious debate. Focused on the emergence of community and language in the Danish West Indies, the following chapters seek to advance the historical narrative of that colony. How the story Danish West Indies is told hinges, in part, on which of this community’s language varieties is to be called Negerhollands. Much of the published literature sees the typical creole3 features of Negerhollands emerging gradually. From this perspective Negerhollands was the lingua franca of a colonial population composed of those who were free and those who were bound, those who were privileged and those who were exploited, those who were empowered and those who were oppressed. The narrative developed in the following chapters rejects this view. Instead I argue, that, as the name would seem to indicate, Negerhollands was the language of the Danish colony’s Afro-Caribbean community. By revealing the intimate relationship between community and language, the narrative not only provides essential insights into the language history of the Danish West Indies, it elucidates the history of Afro-Caribbean vernaculars more generally. But before we continue to explore this issue, a short digression is necessary to consider the term creole, which is not without its own problematic history.

0.1 A Very Brief History of the Term Creole

Persons, animals, and languages born in the New World, all considered to be inferior versions of European originals, were described as creole. Creole

3 Recognizing that creoles are vernacularized as communities respond to situationally specific conditions, I capitalize the term creole only when it is used as a proper noun. My adoption of vernacularization (Valdman 1983) rather than nativization reflects the argument that adults’ use of Negerhollands as a community language preceded its nativization by children. The terms focusing (Le Page and Tabouret-Keller, 1985) and conventionaliza- tion (e.g., Muysken 2001, McWhorter 2005) also occur in the creole literature. what’s in a name? 3 languages are contact vernaculars. In the Caribbean, these were created during European colonization. Recognizing the role played by naming in Europe’s advancement of its colonial interests, Alleyne (2010) remarks on the use of creole, originally a “folk taxonomic term,” in scientific discourse. In Creole Studies the term was appropriated in order to rewrite narratives that portrayed Caribbean cultures and languages as flawed renderings of European models. Those of us who study creole languages became creolists. The processes by which creoles emerge were described as creole genesis. There has even been discussion of semi-creoles and an attempt to rename a portion of the discipline Creolistics. Growing appreciation of the roles that Afro-Caribbean contact vernaculars play in national life is leading researchers to replace labels like Jamaican Creole and Haitian Creole with names like Jamaican and Hai- tian. But the naming situation in the Danish West Indies, now the United States Virgin Islands, where two such languages were created, is not so simply resolved. The earliest language to develop in the Danish colony drew much, but not all, of its lexicon from Dutch. For want of a better solution, I call this language Virgin Islands Dutch Creole, viewing it as an abstraction that reflects the geographic simultaneity of three varieties, two that were spoken and one that was written (i.e., the evangelical variety of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole). The second creole, which owes much of its grammatical structure to the first, draws the majority of its lexicon from English. In parallel, I call it Virgin Islands English Creole. The importance of these distinctions will become apparent shortly. The sections that follow are designed to orient the reader to my argument and methodology. Section 0.2 explains why the Danish West Indies was selected for examination and presents the scenario most frequently advanced to explain creole genesis in the Danish colony in greater detail. Section 0.3 discusses the project’s assumptions and briefly describes the topics treated in each of the chapters and appendices. As in all chapters, the final section summarizes the discussion and provides a bridge to the next chapter.

0.2 Why the Danish West Indies is a Useful Case Study

Located east of Puerto Rico, the Danish West Indies was once the site of a brutal colonial endeavor. Over the span of sixty years, it grew to encom- pass three main islands and a number of arid cays. The two islands that were first settled were hilly, raising challenges for agricultural development. This was especially true of St. Thomas (28 square miles), which is 4 introduction also the driest of the three islands. St. John (20 square miles), which was settled from St. Thomas, is more fertile. St. Croix (84 square miles), with considerably more flat, fertile land, was the last of the main islands to be incorporated into the colony. Today the former Danish colony is a territorial possession of the United States. Writing in the year that it became a U.S. territorial possession, the his- torian Westergård (1917:121) describes the Danish West Indies as “a fairly typical plantation society” which, despite its small scale, provides insight into the development of Europe’s Caribbean endeavors. Although its “linguistic cosmopolitanism” (Sprauve 1981:1) is atypical, the language of the Danish colony is often included in discussions of plantation creoles (e.g., Holm and Patrick 2007, McWhorter 2005). The colony’s history begins in 1672. Although not listed by Larsen (1950) among the important dates in Virgin Islands history, the arrival of the first group of Africans a year after permanent settlement initiated a trajectory of complex social relations that insured the colony’s survival and determined its history. A new language, one that reflected the linguistic resources of its speakers, emerged on St. Thomas, where the colonial environment promoted the development of local identity and impeded the transgenerational transmission of West African heritage languages. The early decades of this process are unrecorded, resulting in what Price (2007:30) describes as “an epistemological stone wall.” The narrative that is told most frequently is rooted in nineteenth- century biases. Although the details of particular versions differ, in essence the story tells of Dutch planters who taught their language to those they held in bondage although the latter failed to learn it fully. The details of a different narrative emerge in the work of scholars such as Sprauve, Graves, Highfield, N. Hall, Olwig, Sensbach. That scenario is advanced in the chapters that follow. The linguistic evidence that supports or undermines these two histories was produced by missionaries, a grammarian, a curiosity collector, and much later, when only a handful of last speakers remained, by linguists. The initial low ratio of Africans to Europeans, the absence of linguistic data from the earliest period of settlement, and the existence of a documentary record that spans more than two and a half centuries make the Danish West Indies an ideal test case for creole genesis. With effort and the appropriate methods, stone walls can be disman- tled. This section describes my assumptions and how I have approached the questions at hand. what’s in a name? 5

0.3 A Matter of Method

Hodgen (1964:478) demonstrates that the humanities are ensconced in archaic ideas from “early levels of Western theology and philosophy.” Western educational systems also are loci for untenable, but largely tacit assumptions about race, culture, and language (e.g. Spindler 2000, Wol- fram in press). As a result, Western linguistic ideologies of inferiority and superiority have survived for thousands of years, and the traditional comparative-systems approach of Western linguistics has produced descriptions of Caribbean vernaculars that Carrington (1987:82) describes as “a European lament—a lament for the loss of smooth transmission of their languages.” A different approach—one guided by Coulmas’s (2005:3) observation that social dynamics explain why “languages are so much more different than lungs and adrenal glands”—this taken here. This approach views colonialism as a virulent, exploitive endeavor motivated by profit and undergirded by racism. Creole genesis, which occurred “between the jaws of brute and absolute power” (Trouillot 2002), is viewed as one of many ways in which subaltern agency negotiated a cultural milieu dominated by ideologies that those who were exploited did not share and from which they did not benefit. In seeking to demonstrate the legitimacy of this perspective, I have turned to scholarship in a range of humanistic disciplines to elucidate the ways in which Africans, like other marginalized and oppressed peoples who were viewed as uncivilized and threatening, exploited opportunities and deployed cultural resources. The developmental scenario that emerges from both qualitative and quantitative analyses is consistent with Schneider’s (2007) model of language development in colonial settings. The hypothesis, which is tested in the last chapters with linguistic data, is that during the first decades of settlement, when adult speakers of African languages confronted opportunities to model the behavior of those who enslaved them, most did not do so. Instead, they responded to the dangers, privations, and humiliations of chattel slavery by drawing on their own linguistic resources.4 In doing so, they created a community language that, as I demonstrate, shares many features with the region’s other plantation creoles.

4 I avoid the terms substrate and superstrate, whose use has tended not to differentiate the influence of particular languages from that of areal features shared by geographically proximate but unrelated languages (Gilman 1986). 6 introduction

Table 1. Negerhollands consultants and the data they produced Consultant* Birth Year de Jong Narrative/ Words Produced Sabino Recordings Mr. Joshua (WAJ) 1858 1–13 10,000 Mr. Prince (P) Not given 14–16 400 Mr. Francis (EF) Not given 17 1,000 Mr. Testamark (JAT) 1859 18–22 1,400 Not given (Unknown) Not given 23–27 2,300 Mr. George (RG) 1845 28–29 100 Ms. Testamark (ACT) 1841 30–31 100 Mr. Joseph (LJ) 1858 32–44 600 Mr. Christian (AC) 1850 38–44 1,500 Mr. Roberts (WHR) 1863 45–82, 88–100, 102 20,000 Mrs. Stevens (MSA) 1899 1–26A/B 19,000

* Following the consultants’ names are the abbreviations that identify the speakers who produced the linguistic examples that appear in the following chapters.

0.3.1 Linguistic Sources The Negerhollands data are drawn primarily from de Jong (1926) and from my conversations with the last native speaker of Negerhollands, Mrs. Alice Stevens, whom I audio-recorded in the 1980s. The twentieth-century consultants’ names, the numbers assigned to their texts by de Jong, and the approximate number of words each produced appear in Table 1 above. Little was recorded about the language histories of the Negerhollands speakers who provided data for de Jong (1926) beyond the fact that they were bilingual, speaking both Virgin Islands Dutch and English creoles. Mrs. Stevens told me that she was raised by her maternal grandparents from the age of nine months and that she learned to speak her two languages simultaneously. Her grandparents were bilinguals of the same generation as de Jong’s consultants. I also draw on Graves (1977), who lists and translates the proverbs in Magens (1770), and Nelson (ms), who provides a short word list of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole terms. Data are also drawn from Hale’s transcription and translation of Magens. Van Rossem and van der Voort (1996) report that the grammar and proverbs in Hale’s translation of Magens contain errors. Although Hale seems generally proficient, there are also some errors in his translation of the dialogues. I address these with retranslation. Data and descriptions of eighteenth-century varieties of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole are also drawn from Oldendorp (1987, 2000). what’s in a name? 7

0.3.2 Revising the Linguistic History of the Danish West Indies Recognizing the full range of linguistic alternatives open to colony residents, I argue that two spoken varieties were developed and used in the Danish West Indies. Negerhollands, a creole in the traditional sense of the term, is seen as developing in opposition to the European languages as the emerging Afro-Caribbean community mediated the colony’s exploitive conditions. The other spoken variety was created by the colony’s Euro-Caribbean community when prosperity motivated a desire for cultural distinctiveness from European homelands. Although not a creole in the traditional sense of the term, I retain the name Hoch Kreol because it has been used in the published literature and because of this variety’s historical relationship to Negerhollands. The monograph is divided into five sections. The first section, which consists of chapters 1 and 2, examines the intellectual milieu in which Europeans developed plantation slavery and considers how Africans transshipped to the Danish West Indies would have responded to it. In exploring European assumptions about the relationships among culture, race, and language, Chapter 1, “The Emergence of Hubristic Eurocentri- cism,” demonstrates how the development of Western hegemonic linguistic ideologies resulted in the underestimation of the “linguistic and cultural agency” of non Europeans (Faraclas et al. 2008). The discussion in Chapter 2, “The Colonial Response: Community Building and Language Creation,” demonstrates the central roles that community formation plays in creole genesis. Informed by the conclusions of the previous chapter, the discussion proposes that clashing African and European ideologies resulted in psychsocial distance (Christie 1983) and the emergence and maintenance of oppositional Afro- and Euro-Caribbean communities on St. Thomas. Interpreting the archeological and anthropological record of the Danish colony in light of research on language and ethnic identity reveals that the exigencies of enslavement resulted in the rapid development of network ties and shared linguistic resources. This chapter also hypothesizes that the colonial elites’ access to their homelands and a negative evaluation of the colonial setting initially delayed the emergence of local identity for this group, preserving heritage languages and encourag- ing use of what Schneider (2007) discusses as a “colonial koiné.” The chapters in the second section support the advancing narrative with historical evidence. Chapter 3, “History and Demographics of the Dan- ish West Indies,” describes the complex sociohistorical context in which Virgin Islands Dutch Creole developed. Primary and secondary resources 8 introduction identify loci of cultural contact in which the primary actors were Africans who spoke (New) Kwa languages and Europeans who spoke Germanic languages. The discussion motivates the construction of a linguistic time line for the Danish colony that includes creole genesis, the emergence of Hoch Kreol, and the shift to English and Virgin Islands English Creole. In Chap- ter 4, “Varieties of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole,” after discussing opposing interpretations of the available documentation, I review the colony’s mission histories, focusing on the cultural frames and linguistic competencies of those who produced the colony’s linguistic record. Since even “minor differences in interpretive strategies carried over from a first to a second language . . . lead to misunderstanding and cross-group stereotyping” (P. Brown and Levinson 1987:36), this chapter also assesses the documentation produced by missionary activity. After considering how previous analyses have evaluated the available documentation and assuaging concerns about the integrity of the data produced by the last speakers of Negerhollands (e.g., Hesseling 1905, de Jong 1926, Bickerton 1981), the discussion demonstrates the degree to which grammatical prescriptivism limits (but does not eliminate) the value of the eighteenth- and nineteenth-century documentary evidence. In the 1980s, interest in similarities between creole genesis and adult language learning5 emerged (e.g., Andersen 1983, F. Byrne 1994, Christie 1983, Thomason and Kauffman 1988, Valdman 1980, 1983). The subsequent appearance of a number of edited collections (e.g., de Graff 1999; Kowenberg and Patrick 2003; Lefebvre, White and Jourdan 2006; Wekker 1996) speaks to continuing interest in this topic. The third section, which contains chapters 5 and 6, examines creole genesis in light of what is currently known about adults’ learning and use of additional languages. Chapter 5, “Language Learning and Situational Constraints,” assesses how conducive the environment established in Chapter 3 was to additional language learning. The discussion considers what age of arrival, trauma and anxiety, aptitude and multilingualism, and sex predict for the accrual of linguistic resources by the colony’s Afro-Caribbean population. Reflecting the assumption that, when confronted with a new linguistic environment, learners invest in expanding their linguistic resources to the extent to which they wish to engage in social interaction, Chapter 6,

5 Given the importance of output in creole genesis (see Chapter 6), I reject the distinction between learning and acquisition proposed in Krashen (1985) and use language learning to refer to the expansion of linguistic resources by individual adults and the creation of linguistic resources by children. what’s in a name? 9

“Deploying Linguistic Resources,” considers creole genesis in terms of the colony’s social structure. Focusing on learner agency, the discussion explores what research on input, input processing, negotiation, and output predicts in light of the colony’s sociohistorical context at the end of the seventeenth century. I suggest that highly variable input, antagonism and fear, and the inability to negotiate input and to impose reception in intergroup interaction curtailed Africans’ learning of European languages. In contrast, within the Afro-Caribbean community, shared cultural and linguistic knowledge increased input comprehensibility while common goals and objectives fostered a range of rhetorical moves. This leads to the claim that widely shared and highly regarded features (whether retained, adapted, or adopted) had the greatest probability of continued use. With the emergence of community, shared features were transformed into symbols of group identity, enhancing the likelihood that they would be preserved through the generations despite external pressure from the Germanic languages that served as the Negerhollands lexifiers. Addition- ally, Winford’s (2005) discussion of imposition and borrowing is invoked to account for differences between Negerhollands and Hoch Kreol. The three chapters in the fourth section examine three Negerhollands features, two of which, according to Parkvall (2000), would have emerged by 1700, with those of Hoch Kreol. Chapter 7, “Interlingual Influence: Pho- nology,” exploits the variation in the twentieth-century data, revealing that the last speakers of Negerhollands preserved evidence of the developmental patterns and adaptive strategies used by speakers of (New) Kwa languages and their descendants. Comparison of Negerhollands and Hoch Kreol was limited by the size of the available Hoch Kreol corpus and eighteenth-century orthographic conventions. Nevertheless, examination of syllable structure preference provides a sense of the degree to which Hoch Kreol speakers partially appropriated Negerhollands features. The discussion in Chapter 8, “Interlingual Influence: Plural Marking,” provides additional evidence of the persistence of (New) Kwa patterns and their partial adoption by Hoch Kreol speakers. Hinskins and van Rossem’s (1995) discussion of variable plural marking in eighteenth-century evangelical texts documents the prior existence of a developmental pattern preserved by Mrs. Stevens. This pattern does not appear in the Hoch Kreol data. Chapter 9, “Interlingual Influence: Verb Serialization,” demonstrates that although this discourse strategy was highly productive in Negerhollands, it was not borrowed into Hoch Kreol. The conclusion briefly summarizes the evidence supporting my argument that creole genesis was the result of the Afro-Caribbean community’s 10 introduction ability to mediate race-based oppression and presents a narrative that accounts for this evidence. The volume also contains three appendices. Appendices I and II are English translations of two nineteenth-century articles by Eric Pontoppi- dan originally published in German (1881) and Danish (1887). Appendix III is a glossary of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole words with variant forms that illustrates the phonological alternatives available to the colony’s residents.

0.4 Retelling the Colony’s Linguistic Story

All communities have stories worthy of telling. However, as is the case throughout the Caribbean, the history of the Danish West Indies has been distorted by some of the very forces that created it. Colonizers, seeing themselves as justified, at times noble, often glossed over oppressive practices in the historical record. Interpreters of that record often naively assume that the values and interests of the Afro-Caribbean and Euro- Caribbean communities were one and the same. The result has been “the imposition of an externally generated myth-making process on the Virgin Islands past” (Highfield 2009:196). Caribbean readers will recognize the book’s subtitle as a double enten- dre meaning to give credit where credit is due and, more narrowly, as referring to paternity. Allsopp (1996:255) identifies the phrase as “informal” and “jocular.” Though the volume’s title reflects my delight in the alliteration and succinctness of the saying, it is not at all jocular. Rather the title reflects the roles that resistance and sex imbalance and played in community building and language creation in the Danish West Indies. Giving Jack His Jacket not only appreciates that the Africans who were forced to make St. Thomas their home in the last decades of the seventeenth century brought with them rich cultures, resourceful minds, and an ability to “go through trials and tribulations enough to make a weaker people surrender” (Lovelace 1982:33). In doing so, it provides a history of language contact that is consistent with the colony’s social and economic past, laying bare the crucial role that local identity formation played in the life of the Danish colony. Chapter one

Hubristic Eurocentricism: Grammar and the colonial mindset

I have followed the pronunciation of the white native speakers, and I would hope that all right-thinking people would agree that this is the best method of formulating rules which will make up a language which will be useful and of service to them on all three Danish islands. (Joachim Melchoir Magens).

1.0 Introduction

The narrative of cultural contact in the Caribbean begins in Europe. Remarking on Renaissance readers’ acceptance of Classical writers’ observations about sub-Saharan Africa, Alleyne (2005:34) argues that the West continues a tradition of cultural arrogance. N. Hall (1992:100) describes such thinking as “hubristic Eurocentricism.” Although, as Wool- ard (1998:15) writes, “there are multiple conceptualizations of talk within a community and even contradictions within individuals,” opinions like Magens’s quoted above are pervasive even today. Take for example, the newspaper columnist and talk show host Bill O’Reilly (2009:A14), who attributes phrases like shout out, my bad, and they be chillin to laziness, suggesting that “hip-hoppers . . . have done more to ruin the Modern Eng- lish language than Paris Hilton.” Sentiments such as these legitimize an established social order. Under- standing how they have influenced inquiry into the origin and nature of Caribbean people and their languages requires examining the development of Western ideas about the relationship between language and culture, and how they impacted Europe’s exploitation of Afro-Caribbean populations. These are the subjects of this chapter.

1.1 Eschewing Barbarisms

When language is viewed as a resource whose purpose is to facilitate social interaction, language variation is taken for granted. For example, the Tolowa, a West Coast Native American group, reject the notion of one grammar for the entire community (Collins 1998). Alternatively, agreement 12 chapter one about correct/incorrect language can be formalized. In such cases speakers are evaluated in terms of their success or failure to deploy the community grammar. That is, they speak well or badly, correctly or incorrectly, natively or nonnatively. This Western view of language derives from the Greek conception of language as an ordered collection of segmentable units whose primary function is reference. The Greeks described the language of non-Greeks as “barbarbar ” ‘unintelligible sounds’ and called speakers of these languages barbarians (Grillo 1989:174). They believed Classical Greek to have been given to their community by their gods. Just as speakers of modern English find the language of Shakespeare challenging, over time the Greeks had difficulty reading the texts of Clas- sical authors written centuries earlier. Like the American teacher who objected to gonna and hafta as “barbarisms” (Preston 1989:4), the Greeks saw language change as degenerative, attributing it to slovenly speech. The word solecism ‘grammatical mistake’ which derives from an Athenian word for incorrect speech, illustrates this. In the dialect of Athens, soloikis mos refers to the dialect of Soloi, an ancient Greek city on the island of Cyprus, and reflects an imagined relationship between geographic distance and linguistic divergence. That is, the further speakers lived from Athens, the more slovenly their speech was thought to be. Around 300 BC, it was decided that something had to be done. Post- classical grammarians were given the task of analyzing Classical texts so that a standard could be established that would restore spoken Greek to its original gods-given purity. A grammar representing the authority and antiquity of Classical authors was prepared, but the restoration project failed because speakers continued to use their language in ways useful to them. Yet, despite the inability of prescriptive Greek grammar to reverse language change, the “Latin grammatical tradition . . . remained scrupu- lously faithful to its Greek model” (Marrou 1982:2750). Unlike Greek society, which was monolingual, Roman society was bilingual, and literacy was almost universal (Williams 2005:7). Grammatical knowledge was necessary for the correct reading and writing of Greek, the language of prestige, and Latin. In the first century AD, Quintilian argued that correct speech and writing reflected not only the authority and the antiquity of Classical excellence; for Quintilian, grammar also reflected reason. He advocated grammar instruction for adolescents. Through the Middle Ages and into the Renaissance, the grammatical model developed by the Greeks and refined by the Romans prevailed. With the collapse of the Roman Empire, the Catholic church emerged as the seat of power and learning in Europe. Vernacular languages like French hubristic eurocentricism 13 and Spanish were used in everyday life, but knowledge of Latin grammar remained essential across Europe for the study of religion. Latin grammar was also necessary for those who studied law, rhetoric, philosophy, and literature (Williams 2005, Tiersma 1999). In addition to being connected to antiquity, authority, and reason, Latin grammar became associated with morality (Weaver 1996). This grammatical model prevailed throughout the Middle Ages and into the Renaissance, ultimately providing the basis for the prescriptive grammars of modern European languages. Today this grammatical model is called traditional grammar. In contrast to natural language change, which often proceeds without speakers being aware of it, language standardization requires direct intervention. In 1492, the Andalusian scholar Nebrija produced one of the first prescriptive grammars of a Romance language. His intent was twofold: to standardize what he described as a “loose and unruly” language into an “artificial Castillian” that would facilitate the teaching of Latin (trans. in Elbow 2006, quoting Illich 1980:43, 37) and to enhance national unity (La Rosa 1999). Following Nebrija, grammars such as Lancelot’s Nouvelle Méthode pour apprendre facilement et en peu de temp la langue latine, published in eleven editions between 1644 and 1736, forced contemporary languages into the categories of Classical languages (Séris 1995). As a result, how well a grammar described a language was related to language typology. That is, the less like Classic Greek and Latin a language was, the less accurate was its grammatical description. For example, Priestley (1772:vii) remarks on Latin grammar’s “exceedingly awkward and absolutely super fluous” influence on English grammars. By the eighteenth century, language had come to be seen as a cultural feature that separated the civilized from the savage (Watts 2002), so when traditional grammar was applied to languages spoken in Africa and the Caribbean in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, these languages were found wanting. As Alleyne (1980:121) writes, Europeans believed “that Africans were too simpleminded and primitive to grasp the structural subtleties of European languages.” So strong was this assumption that it remained intact when structural grammar replaced traditional grammar in the early twentieth century. “The notion of ‘Standard’ as distinct from ‘normal’ ” results from agreement that some linguistic choices are superior, others inferior (Kretz- schmar 2008:341). Although we seldom think of it as such, grammar writing and reading are luxuries affordable to those whose material needs have been met. As the language varieties of people who controlled the greatest portion of Europe’s material and cultural resources were standardized 14 chapter one in grammars, language varieties that received such attention came to be seen as superior to language varieties that did not. Regional varieties were disparaged even by the people who spoke them, and in the sixteenth century, speakers of Italian considered Gothic and French barbarous while German was considered ill suited for “lofty thought” (Droixhe 1995, Grillo 1989). There was also belief that English was not suitable for poetry (Monroe 1910). With standardization came a desire for regulation. Like the Greeks before them, Italian intellectuals worked to create a national language based on the works of the prestigious dialect of Tuscan writers (Morris 2008), and the Accademia della Crusca was established to regulate Italian in 1583. The Academie Française was established in 1635. The seventeenth century also saw the completion of a standard Dutch Bible and the publication of prescriptive grammars like The Dutch School-Master and the Dutch Tutor (Sprauve 1997). There also was continuing debate regarding the suitability of English for philosophical discussion and for the composi- tion of literary texts more generally. Praising the French academy, Defoe (1697:85) proposed an English academy. His intention was to encourage polite learning, to polish and refine the English tongue, and advance the so much neglected faculty of correct language, to establish purity and propriety of style, and to purge it from all the irregular additions that ignorance and affectation have introduced; and all those innovations in speech. . . . The dialect of London began to emerge as a standard for English in the early seventeenth century when printing was becoming widespread (Tiersma 1999). Nevertheless, despite Swift’s 1712 call for “Correcting, Improving, & Ascertaining the English Tongue,” Hume despaired that “Elegance and Propriety of Stile have been very much neglected” (Lynch 2005, par 11, quoting Hume 1741:179). Samuel Johnson’s 1755 Dictionary of The English Language sought to rescue English from its current state of decay. Around the same time, like the Greek grammarians who preceded him, the play- wright Sheridan voiced concern that the divine gift of language had been debased by use (Deutscher 2005, Mugglestone, n.d.). The Anglican bishop Robert Lowth, an expert on Hebrew poetry, a Bible translator, and a fellow of the Royal Societies of London and Göttingen, published a popular and much-copied prescriptivist grammar in 1762. His grammar, which forced invariant English forms into the inflectional categories of Latin and distorted English syntax, was influenced by logic (exemplified by his eschewing of negative copying, as in I don’t want no. . . .) and the structure hubristic eurocentricism 15 of Latin (exemplified by his proscription against split infinitives). In this same year, Sheridan (1762:217) declared in his well-received A Course of Lectures on Elocution that [a]ll barbarous nations agree in not studying or cultivating their languages, and this is one of the characteristical [sic] marks of barbarism. All civilized countries agree in studying and cultivating their languages. . . . However, this notion is neither timeless nor universal as an informal survey of international students at Auburn University conducted by Spriggs and Lee (2008) illustrates: while acutely aware of rules for English grammar, most survey participants report that their educational experiences did not include studying the grammars of their native languages. In fact, the cost of such language study can be considerable. To modify practice that differs substantially from a standardized system requires both time and money. Dictionaries, grammars, and rhetorics must be produced; teachers, editors, and administrators must be trained; and settings in which language study takes place must be constructed. Illich (1980:47) remarks on the peculiarity of this practice: Outside of those societies that we now call Modern European, no attempt was made to impose on entire populations an everyday language that would be subject to the control of paid teachers or announcers. Everyday language, until [the Renaissance], was nowhere the product of design Language standardization reduces linguistic diversity. Watts (2002) points to the repression and violence that accompanied Western language standardization and its evil twin, the eradication of unstandardized varieties. Contrast this ideology with that of Ungarinyin speakers who do not distinguish language and language use (Rumsey 1992, cited in Preston 2002). Similarly, although Mrs. Stevens, who was aware that she was the last native speaker of Negerhollands, and I discussed my interest in grammatical description, she corrected my pronunciation to ensure I would be understood. This puzzled me until examination of my own assumptions about language led me to realize that despite our formal educations, our language ideologies were different.

1.2 Developing Europe’s Cultural Lens

Having sketched grammar writing and Europe’s efforts to constrain linguistic diversity, we return to the Renaissance to consider European ideas about the relationship between language and culture. Renaissance 16 chapter one

characterizations of the inhabitants of colonized and exploited territories ranged from noble to ignoble. However, as in modern times, there was a decided preference for the aberrant and the astonishing (Hodgen 1964, Meek 1976). Motivated by curiosity and avarice, and empowered by their developing capacity for ocean travel, Renaissance explorers returned to Europe with specimens of plants and animals, with articles of material culture, and with newly encountered people who were sometimes “exhib- ited in European capitals side by side with apes and baboons” (Hodgen 1964:417). This practice continued for many years: Highfield (2009:116), quoting a communication from the directors of the Danish Vestindisk- guineisk Kompagnie, writes that in the late 1680s “a couple of attractive, young Negro boys . . . some parrots, flamingoes, turtle doves and other exotic creatures” were requested from their St. Thomas colony. The languages that Europeans encountered were first valued for conquest (e.g., D. Brooks 2001). However, as collecting became an interest of wealthy, intellectually inclined Europeans, they sought out “the rare, the prodigious, and the improbable [whether] shells, coins, fossils, proverbs, monsters, dialects, or artificial deformities” (Hodgen 1964:125, 128). By the 1440s, Portuguese exploration of the West African coast, which was motivated in part by anti-Islamic sentiment (Hair 1994), had introduced enslaved Africans to Europe. However, prior to mid-century, the majority of European slaves were Slavs, people from Eastern Europe, from which the word slave derives (Guyatt 2007). Africans traveled volun- tarily beyond their home continent seeking employment as administrators, agricultural workers, artists, athletes, guards, emissaries, merchants, missionaries, sailors, and soldiers (Harris 1996). In 1455, Pope Nicholas V blessed Portuguese conquest and enslavement of non-Christian “nigri and inhabitants of Guinea” (Blackburn 1997:103). Europe began to expand its purchase of people from Africa. The Portuguese initiated the building of the first trade outpost on the Gold Coast in 1481; the naval convoy that brought the necessary building materials from Europe to West Africa listed among its personnel Christopher Columbus, then thirty years old (Hair 1994 commenting on observations by De las Casas). The Portuguese maintained a trading monopoly for the next century during which time varieties of “restructured Portuguese” are likely to have emerged (Do Couto 1993:384). As contact between Europeans and Africans expanded, these varieties were adopted by other European nations, including the Danes, and, according to Wilks (1957:107), Portuguese remained the lingua franca on the West African coast “until late in the eighteenth century.” hubristic eurocentricism 17

Missionaries followed traders and explorers; the first grammar of an African language was produced by Catholic missionaries in 1659 (Childs 2003). Europe’s experiences with the peoples of Africa, Asia, and the Americas provoked attempts to understand the peoples they encountered. However, linguistic barriers and cultural stereotypes doomed Europe’s interpretive project to failure. For example, although Lafitau’s 1724 Moeurs des Sauvage Ameriquains Comparées aux Moeurs des Premiers Temps provides an early articulation of linguistic relativism, he explains cultural difference in terms of degeneration (Paxman 1993). In general, the West portrayed Africans as primitive, pagan, and lacking history, poetry, science, philosophy, and mathematical ability (Igwe 2004). Africans with whom Europeans did not have good relations were described as “warlike, barbarous, and cannibalistic” (Fage 1980:70) and as “[d]og-faced, dog-toothed people, satyrs, wild men, and cannibals” (Hod- gen 1964:362 paraphrasing Pereira 1505). Although thought to be human, Africans were believed to be “deformed of both face and body . . . their ugliness resulting from the curse of Noah” (de Zurara quoted in Blackburn 1997:104, who cites a translation by Conrad 1983:6). This notion became increasingly widespread as the Bible was translated from Latin into Euro- pean vernaculars. Africans recognize that “each party or nation ‘sees high noon from its own doorway’” (African proverb, Bâ 1981). In contrast, by the sixteenth century for Europeans, Europe had become the lens “through which all other knowledges . . . must pass for legitimization” (Jacques 1997:193). Classical views, such as Aristotle’s assertion that “[t]he people of the cold countries generally, and particularly those of Europe, are full of spirit, but deficient in skill and intelligence . . .” (trans. Alleyne 2005:39) were modified to reflect Europe’s vision of itself. P. Roberts (2008:399) sees this orientation, which contrasted “images of corruption and mixture in the Caribbean (and North Africa) . . . with images of whiteness and purity in Europe,” as essential to Europe’s colonial endeavor. Rooted in Greek thought, for a time Europeans conceptualized development in terms of climate and geography. What Hodgen (1964:214) calls “the problem of pigmentation” was resolved biblically. It was imagined that after the confounding of tongues at the Tower of Babel people wan- dered away from Europe, the center of cultural achievement. As a result, beyond Europe, the earth was populated by dark-skinned barbarians. Their coloring was attributed to additional sun exposure. Cultural difference was understood to result from arrested cultural development. For 18 chapter one example, Hobbs, a seminal figure in Western political philosophy, associated barbarian life with ignorance of literacy, agriculture, navigation, art, and geography, the inability to measure time, and a lack of industry (2003). With Aristotle’s “tentative[. . .]” proposal that animal life could be understood taxonomically (Slaughter 1982:15), European intellectuals classified humans based travelers’ accounts of physical, intellectual, and behavioral characteristics. In the late Renaissance, explanations for human diversity based on biology rather than geography emerged. The first of these was Bernier’s (1684) Nouvelle division de la terre par les différentes espèces ou races qui l’habitent, in which he distinguishes “four or five races of men” (trans. Bendyshe 1864:361). Among these were peoples he believed to be fundamentally white skinned (e.g., Europeans, North Africans, “a good part of Asia, and Native Americans”). Lapps, whom he describes as “stunted,” “very ugly,” and “wretched” were another group as were Pacific islanders, the Japanese, the Chinese, and some Russians (362). The last two groups that he lists are African. Bernier describes people living at the Cape of Good Hope, “whom [s]ome of the Dutch say . . . speak turkey,” as ugly, car- rion eating, drinkers of sea water (3). He describes the inhabitants of the rest of Africa in terms of facial features, skin color, and “their hair, which is not properly hair, but rather a species of wool, which comes near the hairs of some of our dogs” (362). In the early eighteenth century, Linnaeus, the Swedish father of systematic biology and taxonomic nomenclature, produced the astonishing taxonomy shown below in Table 2. In 1773, an anonymous participant in Philadelphia’s “pamphlet warfare” (Jordan 1968:307) disputed Linnaeus’s classification. “Negroes,” s/he claimed, were members of a species “utterly devoid of reason” that also included orangutans, apes, baboons, and monkeys (18–19). The Scottish philosopher Lord Kames argued for different species of humanity in 1774 (Gascoigne 1994). A year later, the physical anthropologist Blumenbach (1865) argued for a single species whose races were hierarchically organized on the basis of physical and moral attributes. Light-skinned people, he believed, were members of the most attractive, intelligent, and generous race. By the eighteenth century, what Akoma (1998:83) describes as Europe’s “colonial project . . . to inculcate into its African subjects the notion that ‘progress’ and ‘enlightenment’ evolved from a Western consciousness” was well advanced: Africans are characterized as naturally uncivilized, linguistically limited, sexually promiscuous, idolatrous, cannibalistic, lazy, duplicitous, thievish, and as having developed only rudimentary hubristic eurocentricism 19

Table 2. Taxonomy of the genus Homo (Linnaeus 1735, adapted from Hodgen 1964) Homo Sapiens Homo Monstrous Wild man: quadruped, mute, hairy Mountaineers: small, inactive, timid American: copper-colored, erect, Patagonians: large, lazy irritable, governed by custom European: fair, optimistic, strong, fitted Hottentots: diminished fertility clothing, governed by law Asiatic: sooty, meek, rigid, loose clothing, American: beardless governed by opinion African: unemotional, relaxed, governed Chinese: having cone heads by caprice Canadians: having flat heads

political organizations. Eze (2000:696, 692), speculating that justification of chattel slavery was a “containment in defense of civilization,” points to an illustrative footnote that Hume added to Of National Characters that “survived Hume’s multiple revisions . . . and was publically defended from criticisms.” Eze quotes Hume (1882, III:253), who writes, I am apt to suspect the Negroes to be naturally inferior to the whites. There scarcely ever was a civilized nation of that complexion, nor even any individual eminent either in action or speculation. . . . On the other hand, the most rude and barbarous of the whites, such as the ancient GERMANS, the present TARTARS, have still something eminent about them,. . . . Such a uniform and constant difference could not happen, in so many countries and ages, if nature had not made an original distinction betwixt these breeds of men. The anonymous pamphleteer (1773:18) quoted above was so impressed by Hume’s essay that s/he “plagiarized” it (Jordan 1968:308, 305), suggesting that [i]t is very evident that notwithstanding the accounts of fabulous voyagers, the Negroes on the Western coasts of Africa, are the most stupid, beastly race of animals in human shape of any in the whole world. . . . According to Alleyne (2005), Voltaire believed it likely that Africans were the progeny of monkeys and humans, a view shared by the anonymous pamphleteer (1773:3) quoted above, who commends the Royal African Company for their generous disinterested exertion of benevolence and philanthropy, which has been the principal means of heaping wealth and honors on Europeans and Americans, and rescuing many millions of wretched Africans, as brands from the fire [emphasis in the original], and even compelling them to the 20 chapter one

enjoyment of a more refined state of happiness than the partiality of fate has assigned them in their native state. A decade later Rousseau (1784, from Halsall 1997/2001: Part 1, Section 1, par 12) writes, . . . savage man must be fond of sleep, and sleep lightly like other animals, who think but little . . . his touch and his taste must be extremely coarse and blunt; his sight, his hearing, and his smelling equally subtle . . . We must not therefore be surprised, that the Hottentots of the Cape of Good Hope . . . distinguish with their naked eyes ships on the ocean at as great a distance as the Dutch can discern them with their glasses; nor that the savages of America should have tracked the Spaniards with their noses . . . as the best dogs could have done. . . . Research on colonial language ideology “clearly” identifies relationships between language and social and political institutions (Woolard 1998:24). Citing Mignolo (1992, 1995), Woolard (25) describes language documentation produced during European colonialism as “frankly political and conversion oriented.” As a result, these descriptions are “blinkered” not only to the social relations encoded by the objects of their descriptions but to the linguistic structures themselves. Because Europeans saw themselves and their cultures as normal, they interpreted difference as deviance and deviance as inferiority. Travelers perceived the languages they encountered as “hopelessly inferior” (Pax- man 1993:22, n7). As a result their accounts were seldom accurate. For example, Dalby and Hair (1968:131) describe the fifteenth-century Mina vocabulary collected by de la Fosse as “very corrupt.” Sagard’s observation that the Huron spoke a ‘very confused” language that was “nearly without rules” similarly reflects Europe’s bias (trans. Sabino from an unidentified source quoted in Gros-Louis 1999 later identified as Sagard 1632). Sagard’s observation also illustrates incomplete, adult language learning. Although there were dissenting voices, Europe came to see linguistic inequality as responsible for “the inequality which is to be observed among mankind” (Paxman 1993:30 quoting Condillac 1756:122; see also Seuren 1998, Watts 2002). The speech of the those who were viewed as uncivilized was characterized as vulgar, corrupt, barbaric, and primitive, reflecting lives that were limited to the “present, an interest in material objects and the dominance of the passions” (O. Smith 1984:3, quoted in Grillo 1989:176). Hottentots, a recurrent target of dehumanizing descriptions, were described as “sound[ing] like apes rather than men’ ” (Hodgen 1964:417, quoting Herbert 1634), as hissing rather than speaking (Hodgen 1964:412, referencing Merolla 1682) and as having such a “gut- teral and harsh” language that they “seem rather to cackle like [h]ens or hubristic eurocentricism 21

[t]urkeys than speak like [m]en” (Beekman 1718:188, also quoted in Hod- gen 1964:411). In mid seventeenth-century France, the contact language developed by the Island-Caribs was described as language corrompu (P. Roberts 2008:137, quoting De Rochefort 1658:392). As decimated Amer- indian populations were replaced with laborers from Africa, the notion of linguistic degeneracy, P. Roberts (2008) suggests, was associated with the contact languages developed by Africans and their descendants. The eighteenth century also saw complaints that many newly encountered languages had no words for concepts like ‘virtue,’ ‘justice,’ and ‘liberty’ (Hodgen 1964). A frequently cited example is La Condamine’s 1745 observation that South American languages were “universally barren of terms for the expression of abstract or universal ideas” (quoted in Paxman 1993:27). A few years after Magens’s prescriptive Hoch Kreol grammar quoted at the beginning of the chapter was completed, Raynal (1773) describes the Black Caribs as “doubly savage” (trans. P. Roberts 2008:135), a description P. Rob- erts attributes to their dual (i.e., African/Indigenous) heritage. Eighteenth-century popular literature also reflects such thinking. Mühl- häusler (1992:310) points to the use of contact varieties in English literature for “light relief, local color, or an illustration of [. . .] speakers’ inferiority.” For example, in 1768 a comic opera by Bickerstaffe, The Padlock, which introduced “the stereotype of the lazy, credulous, unreliable, yet amusing black servant” to English-speaking audiences (Carretta 2005:283), enjoyed great popularity in New York and Philadelphia (Cooley 1997:51). Mary Wollstonecraft’s (1789, also reprinted in Costanzo 2001) praise of an Afri- can author also testifies to the pervasiveness of such sentiments. In her review of Equiano’s remarkable autobiography, Wollstonecraft writes, [t]he life of an African, written by himself, is certainly a curiosity, as it has been a favourite philosophic [sic] whim to degrade the numerous nations, on whom the sun-beams more directly dart, below the common level of humanity, and hastily to conclude that nature, by making them inferior to the rest of the human race, designed to stamp them with the mark of slavery. Such sentiments are documented in the Danish West Indies, where enslaved agricultural workers, many of whom were African-born, were considered to be incapable of reasoning and “lacking in physical dexter- ity” (Sensbach 2005:21). For example, a 1755 journal attributed to a planter born on St. Thomas in 1705 characterizes the colony’s slaves as “murder- ous and devil-like” and singles out enslaved females as having a predilection for “viciousness, . . . murder, and malice” (Carstens 1997:68, 66). A 1758 description written by a St. Croix resident (trans. N. Hall 1992:41) similarly held that the “black skin [of enslaved Africans] bears witness to their evil.” 22 chapter one

Discussing the situation on Martinique, Alleyne (2005:168) suggests that such racist thinking had “filtered down to the general mass of planters, accountants, marine personnel, and colonists.” However, Guyatt (2007:20) holds that “[g]rassroots prejudice against black people . . . ran far ahead of any formal racism in the treatises of European theologians and philosophers.” By the end of the eighteenth century, trade in enslaved Africans was increasingly controversial, resulting in conflicting characterizations of Africa in European historical sources. For example, Hodgen (1934:320) reports that when arguing for the Doctrine of Original Sin, the Christian theologian John Wesley describes Africans as “degenerate and corrupt” and “lower than brutes.” In contrast, when arguing against the slave trade, Wesley characterization of African homelands includes productive agriculture, benevolent governments, and “generous,” talented, industrious, and mannerly inhabitants (321, 322). The nineteenth century saw the emergence of a scientific racism that transformed race into a causative characteristic. Nations were conceived as having world views that reflected shared racial histories. Movement from one stage of social development to the next was seen as contingent on a society’s characteristics. Spencer (1867:par 143) writes, [t]he thoughts of the savage are nothing like so heterogeneous in their kinds as those of the civilized man, whose complex environment presents a multi- plicity of new phenomena. His mental acts, too, are much less involved—he has no words for abstract ideas, and is found to be incapable of integrating the elements of such ideas. The development of languages was seen as racially determined (Williamson 1989, referencing Köhler 1975). Despite growing increasing abolitionist pressure, the cumulative weight of Classical, Renaissance, Enlightenment, and nineteenth-century science shielded the notion of European superiority, leaving negative stereotypes about Africa and Africans largely undisturbed. For example, the encyclopedist Oliver Goldsmith (1824:266) writes that Africa produced those who were “gloomy . . . stupid, indolent, and mischievous” while Europe was where “all the arts of improving nature and refining upon happiness have been invented” (6).1 Believing that history began when it was encoded in writing, Hegel remarks in his 1830–1831 lectures on The History of Africa, which saw publication in 1837, that the continent was “completely wild and untamed . . . with nothing harmonious with humanity” (1900:93). After the Atlantic slave trade was ended, race scientists continued to promulgate views that justified maintenance of an established heredity

1 The first edition of Goldsmith’s encyclopedia was published in 1774. hubristic eurocentricism 23 caste characterized by material deprivation and severely limited social mobility on which individual accomplishment and success had limited impact (e.g., Alleyne 2005, Carretta 2005, Fage 1981, Hodgen 1964, Jacques 1997, Meek 1976). By mid-century, de Gobineau had developed the notion of an Aryan master race in his Essai sur l’Inegalité de Races Humaine. In his 1864 A Mission to Gelele, King of Dahomey, the founder of the London Anthropological Society, Richard Burton, suggested that Africans and people of African descent could only achieve the intellectual development of a European child. James Hunt, addressing that same society “classified the negro [sic] as a species distinct from European man” (Hodgen 1977:20). By century’s end, Brinton had published his Races and Peoples: Lectures on the Science of Ethnography in which, although there is no biological basis for race, humanity was racially stratified.

1.3 Cultural Contact in the Caribbean

The West’s racist ideology had profound effects on peoples across the globe. As a result of territorial expansion, civilizations were destabilized, and the homelands of indigenous peoples were renamed, exploited, depopulated (characteristically with “excessive inhumanity” [Alleyne 2005:82]), and repopulated. Europe’s initial attempts at colonization in the Caribbean revealed that indigenous populations and Europeans could not be depended on to build requisite infrastructure. Nor were they up to the demands of plantation agriculture. As a result, Europe turned to African slavery, beginning “the largest long-distance coerced migration in history” (Eltis and Richardson 1997:17). In 1502, enslaved Africans were disembarked in Hispaniola. The early sixteenth century also saw sugar production in Brazil. By the middle of the next century, Europe’s exploitation of economic opportunity had created “a new dimension of racial polarization in the world” that impacted all dimensions of human life (Alleyne 2005:81). Old languages were replaced with new ones, including languages vernacularized by Africans as they established communities to cope with the “particularly abominable” (Alleyne 2005:52) system that had emerged in the Americas. Europe’s forging of evolutionary links between race, culture, and language discussed above coincided with the intensification of agricultural and commercial activity in the Caribbean. As a result, Europe’s growing concern for language standardization influenced both the evaluation and the documentation of the contact vernaculars developing in the communities created by transported Africans. Instead of celebrating African 24 chapter one

linguistic accomplishments under debilitating learning conditions, Euro- peans assumed that Africans were bastardizing European tongues. For example, Do Couto (1993:385, citing Coelho 1953) mentions documentation of a creole, a variety of Portuguese spoken by Africans who “ma[de] some errors.” Nearly a hundred years later, the Moravian missionary Old- endorp comments on the “corrupt[ion]” of European languages by Afri- cans (trans. Gilbert 1986:5). P. Roberts (1996:6, 2008) provides a number of additional examples, including E. Long’s 1774 observation that Jamai can Patois was “bad English larded with the Guiney dialect.” An “unsigned [1829] attack” describes the language of a Sranan Bible as “broken,” “barbarous,” “imperfect,” “gibberish,” and “babyish lingo” (quoted in Reinecke 1983:2, 3). In 1840, van den Bergh referred to the language of the Danish colony as Neger-Hollandsch (van Rossem and van der Voort 1996). Hessel- ing, who adopted the term Negerhollands, also called the contact language created in the Danish West Indies “Bastaardhollands” (1933:20, quoted in Reinecke 1937:396). According to Mühlhäusler (1992:310), the Nazi’s called contact varieties “Luderspracher ‘prostitute languages’.” Alleyne (2005) points out that language names like Neger Engels ‘slave English’ and Negerhollands ‘slave Dutch’ document a series of semantic changes that occurred in the languages of a number of slaving nations.2 In the first stage of this semantic change, Europeans replaced African ethnic names with negro, the Iberian word for ‘black,’ transforming it into a count- able racial/ethnic term. That is, members of an African cultural group were collectively referred to as blacks. An individual was referred to as a black. In the next stage, the meaning of negro was narrowed to ‘slave’ (see also Law 2001, Postma 1990). This use is documented early in the Danish colony’s history in tax documents called the Land Lister. As Figure 2 (below) illustrates, enslaved members of the Afro-Caribbean community were identified as negers; a free(d) African or person of African descent was identified as a frei neger, a practice also commented on by Carstens (1997).

2 A similar change is underway in American English in which the phrase a member of a minority group has been replaced with a minority, ‘an African-American person.’ Postma (1990) indicates the Dutch differentiated between zwarten, who were free and negers, who were enslaved. In parallel semantic shifts, Africans adopted European words for ‘white’ changing the meaning to ‘boss, owner” while African words for ‘owner, boss’ became racial/ethnic terms. Members of the Euro-Caribbean community in the Danish West Indies were called blaŋku, blaŋko cognate with the Portuguese term branco `white man’ (de Marees 1987). A fourth change is that is ameliorating the term is underway in French and Spanish Caribbean (Alleyne 2005) and in the U.S. hubristic eurocentricism 25

A rchives, L ibrary and A 1729 edition of the map is held P ublic B aa M . E nid S outh along the coast. T homas V. I .) T homas 3 (courtesy of the S t. S t. L ister from L and A digital image of that map can be viewed at Wikipedia.org. M oll distinguishes “ N egroland” in the north from “Guinea” in the H erman U niversity of Florida. 3 A 1727 map by Figure 2. A portion of the 1691 by the 26 chapter one

1.4 The Intellectual Milieu and Linguistic Analysis

Under assessment of African intellectual capacities and talents resulted in the perception that Afro-Caribbean vernaculars were easy to learn. We now know that native-like competence in a additional language, when achieved at all, requires at least ten years of focused study and practice (Dörnyei and R. Schmidt 2001, Ericsson, Krampe, and Tescher-Romer 1993). For example, Kusters and Muysken (2001:184) remark on the difficulty of learning languages spoken in the Caribbean: [F]or Sranan many Surinamese (let alone non-Surinamese) are criticized as non-fluent. Similarly for Papiamentu: only a handful of non-native speakers are grudgingly acknowledged as speaking decent (mind you, not fluent) Papiamentu. Nevertheless, the British soldier Stedman considered himself to have fully acquired Saramaccan after only a five-year residence, falsely believing it to be only “a compound of Dutch, French, Spanish, Portuguese and English” (trans. Eersel 1984:3). Missionaries on Martinique similarly considered the local contact variety, Baragouin ‘gibberish,’ to be easy to acquire (Maher 1994). Rooted in early philological speculations about language before the “Babelic division of nations” (Droixhe 1995:20), linguistics emerged as an academic discipline in the late eighteenth century with the development of the historical-comparative method. As mentioned above, this was a time when Europeans saw themselves as representing the ultimate stage of human achievement while non-Europeans were thought to lack industry, chastity, cleanliness, artistic talent, intelligence, reason and, thus, agency (Gates 1987, Marren 1993). Linguists, like “theologians, romantic historians and missionaries; travelers and archaeologists; colonial administrators and students of racial differences; economists and anti-reformers” (Hodgen 1977:13–14) embraced this theory of cultural development. Languages that differed structurally from those spoken by Europeans were seen as emerging because their speakers, lacked the capacity for well-formed speech. For example, in 1772 Herder posited that the early stages of developed languages were revealed in the structure of so-called primitive languages. A year later, Lord Monboddo’s Of the Origin and Progress of Language was published, linking the barbarous and primitive with an inability to think abstractly (Hammett 1978). The nineteenth century witnessed progress in understanding language diversification. However, the assumption that language change hubristic eurocentricism 27 was degenerative remained a powerful one. For example, Bopp saw gradual morphological loss as responsible for the grammatical structure of the modern Indo-European languages (Robbins 1997). Similarly, Jacob Grimm complained in 1819 that in centuries past “every common peasant knew . . . [the] perfections and niceties of the German language of which the best language-teachers nowadays can no longer even dream” (trans. Deutscher 2005:74). Schleicher also pointed to the lack of inflectional morphology in English as evidence for “how rapidly the language of a nation important both in history and literature can sink” (trans. Deutscher 2005:75, no reference given). Creoles were viewed “as reductions of their [European] base languages” (Meijer and Muysken 1977:27). For example, Van Name (1869–70:128) writes that the difference between creole languages and the languages from which they draw much of their lexicons is due “mainly but not altogether [to] decay.” Like cultural determinism, scientific racism impacted the thinking of linguists. For example, Müller (1884, reported by Greenberg 1981) establishes linguistic divisions on the basis of hair type. Bertrand-Bocandé (1849:73, trans. and quoted in Meijer and Muysken 1977:22) suggests “the genius of a European language” could not be mastered by those who were “half-savage.” Although Koerner (n.d.) finds no overt racism in von Hum- bolt’s writing, Seuren (1998) indicates that, under the influence of Herder and Darwin, von Humboldt theorized that the highly inflected Indo-Euro- pean languages were inevitable given the superior intellect and civilization of their speakers. The inferiority of languages that lacked inflectional morphology, such as the contact languages of the Caribbean, were also inevitable given that their speakers were among those considered to be “unimprovable in culture” (Hodgen 1964:380). A “mania for collecting comparative materials on large numbers of languages” emerged in the eighteenth century with grammars and dictionaries of a number of African and Afro-Caribbean languages appear- ing in the early nineteenth century (Greenberg 1981:294, see also Seuren 1998). Scholarly interest turned to creoles in the mid-nineteenth century (Cassidy 1994, Reinecke 1937) because these languages were thought to be laboratories of linguistic change. In the process, language description, which earlier was acknowledged to be “political and conversion oriented,” came to be seen as a “neutral scientific endeavor” (Woolard 1998:25). Unlike Hume, in 1830 Greenfield (51, quoted in Reinecke 1983:7), who supervised the editorial department of the British and Foreign Bible Society, found “Negroes . . . to be in no degree inferior to other nations.” However, Greenfield’s insight was “soon forgotten,” and the definition of 28 chapter one creole languages “as dialects” characterized by inflectional loss was widely accepted (Reinecke 1983:8, 55). Mühlhäusler (1985:70) also remarks on the “widespread practice of describing the forms occurring in a pidgin [or] creole speaker’s or second language learner’s grammar as deviations from the (prescriptive) ‘related standard.’” In his history of the Slave Society in the Danish West Indies, N. Hall (1992:110) points to the intellectual limitations that arise from the assumption that European cultures and languages were a “terminus ad quem” for Afro-Caribbean populations. Nevertheless, Bruyn and Veenstra published “The creolization of Dutch” in 1993. Despite a similar observation by Winford (1997, referencing Baker 1995), Hazaël- Massieux (1998:276) writes of the “total ruin of the French determiner system” and Adamson and Smith (2003:83, quoted by McWhorter 2005:4) write, “. . . Creole languages are not noted for the possession of inflectional morphology. . . . when it comes to derivational morphology, Creoles per- form better.” Kowenberg’s (2010b:368) criticism of typologically oriented work in the early twenty-first century describes a continued concern with morphological marking as a “preoccupation” with bound morphemes. Two of the most highly respected creolists, Schuchardt and Hessel- ing, largely rejected racist thinking. Although Schuchardt recognized the importance of social factors in language change, nevertheless, because racism continued to impact linguistic thought, he attributed some aspects of creole phonology to African oral physiology (Meijer and Muysken 1977). Holm (1988:1.23) mentions this as well and adds that “[a]s late as 1913 van Ginneken asserted that creoles maintained the “inner form”4 of African languages because blacks . . . “can never give up their Negro way of thinking” (245). Sprauve (1997:45) describes van Ginnekin’s description of Neg- erhollands “as racist as anything to be found anywhere in Creole Studies” although he commends van Ginnenkin for acknowledging the “limitations” of the available written material. In the twentieth century, although grammatical theory was reshaped as linguists recognized that Greek and Latin did not provide a universal linguistic template, such thinking was still acceptable. As a result, linguists were slow to realize that pidgins and creoles were “like other so called ‘natural’ languages, entitled to be selectively ransacked by those seeking illustrations for the finer part of linguistic theory” (Mühlhäusler 1992:310). The grip of this ideology was such that even sympathetic researchers who attempted to avoid racist thinking fell into the trap of hubristic Eurocentricism. Like

4 A concept from von Humboldt. hubristic eurocentricism 29 many who followed him, Reinecke (1937:126) attributed the lack of assimilative integration to Africans’ lack of “incentive to improve themselves.” Assuming that improvement was unidirectional, Reinecke saw contact vernaculars emerging in “situations in which [non-Europeans] have an inadequate opportunity to assimilate completely one of the most important parts of another group’s culture—its language” (131). The assumption that Caribbean creoles are “valuable for ‘folklore’, (folk music, proverbs, swearing, etc.), but . . . quite inadequate for the expression of complex and abstract thought” (Alleyne 1985:160) has been a resilient one. Van Name (1869–70:128), justifying his interest in the vernacular languages of the Caribbean, writes that “[t]he Creole dialects . . . though inferior in general interest to even the rudest languages of native growth, are in some respects worth attention.” Reinecke (1937:4) observes that what he called marginal languages “are almost invariably despised.” Trouillot (2002:191–2) writes that as recently as the mid-twentieth century, “most observers and many speakers viewed the Creole languages of the Carib- bean as burlesque versions of European tongues. . . .” This was true for the languages that emerged in the Virgin Islands: Larsen (1950:105) describes the language created by the Afro-Caribbean population in the Danish West Indies, as a “broken dialect” and the language of that colony’s Euro- Caribbean population, as “articulate,” having been “well-nigh perfected” by Moravian missionaries. In 1969, Arthur Jensen, an educational psychologist, argued that, although all people memorize, higher order cognition is more widely distributed among European Americans than among African Americans largely due to genetic predilection. Labov (1969) revealed the problematic assumptions, methods, and data on which A. Jensen’s cognitive-deficit hypothesis relied. Nevertheless, even as the inquiry into contact varieties and the learning of additional languages emerged as academic disciplines, Whinnom (1971:109–110) comments that creoles may hinder “the creole- speaker’s personal intellectual development.” In 1972, the Linguistic Society of America endorsed a resolution that “exposed the flimsy intellectual basis of A. Jensen’s ideas” (Baugh 1988:65). Nevertheless, a decade later Alleyne (1982:3) finds it necessary to observe that only by ignoring the normalcy of bilingualism and language contact can we conceptualize the grammar of creole languages as “special individuals in ‘sub-cultures.’” The cognitive deficit theory resurfaced in the 1990s with the publication of The Bell Curve: Intelligence and Class (Herrnstein and Murray 1994) and the Ebonics controversy. Like Kowenberg’s (2010a) argument that the under-representation of Afro-Caribbean vernaculars 30 chapter one in linguistic surveys like the World Atlas of Language Structures continues nineteenth-century thinking that creole languages are typologically peculiar, the debate about the legitimacy of indiginized language varieties (e.g., Kachru 1994, Nero 2005) testifies to the continuing influence of the Western intellectual tradition. As Woolard (1998:4) acknowledges, language ideologies are “unavoid- able.” However, she also points out they need not be pernicious. With the emergence of Caribbean nationalism in the latter half of the twentieth century, linguists and historians challenged racist assumptions with analyses that probed the social histories of Afro-Caribbean communities. Nev- ertheless, despite efforts to undermine the impact of a “European-derived linguistic ideolog[y]” of inferiority and superiority (Dorian 1998:15), the title of Simmonds-McDonald’s plenary address at the 2008 meeting of the Society for Caribbean Linguistics, Reexamining Notions of Deficiency and Inadequacy from the Perspective of Vernacular Education, demonstrates the continuing legacy of Western cultural arrogance and ignorance.

1.5 Summary

More than four decades ago, Hodgen (1964:478) lamented that contemporary anthropology is predicated on assumptions that fail to reflect “the data of human history.” Drawing on evidence from history, philosophy, linguistics, and literature, this chapter has illustrated the ways in which an ideology of superiority legitimated centuries of exploitation and influenced inquiry into the origin and nature of Caribbean communities and the languages they created. The next chapter considers social psychological and sociolinguistic research on language and identity, and data from archeological, historical, and ethnographic studies of the Danish West Indies in order to characterize the Afro-Caribbean response to hubristic Eurocentricism. Exploitation and the oppression begot resistance, linguistic and otherwise, insuring the emergence of a vibrant Afro-Caribbean identity in the Danish West Indies. Chapter two

The Colonial Response: Community Building and Language Creation

Bukra love is cocobay love.1 (Virgin Islands proverb)

2.0 Introduction

The story continues on the island of St. Thomas where, as elsewhere, identity was situated and interactively constructed. As social creatures, we human compare ourselves to others, seeking situations and groups that promise satisfaction. We converge with those we admire, hoping for solidarity, and distance ourselves from those we disapprove of. Citing research by Labov, Trudgill, and Leslie Milroy, as well as their own work, Le Page and Tabouret-Keller (1985) observe that identity is the most important constraint governing linguistic behavior. Fought (2006:187) agrees, locat- ing language “at the very heart of identity.” The link between language and identity holds whether we use our first language(s) or those we learn later, because like native speakers, language learners deploy their linguistic resources, both target-like and non target-like, “resourcefully and strategically” (Firth and Wagner 1997:293). (See also Hansen Edwards 2008, He 2006, Muysken 1984, Nero 2005, 2006, Peirce 1995, M. Rampton 1991). For example, Zhu (2010) reveals that Eng- lish-speaking, heritage learners of Mandarin identified as more or less Chi- nese depending on their conversational participants (e.g., American peers versus grandparents) and setting (e.g., home, Chinese language school, or American public/private school). Generalizing across such complexity, Meisel (1983:28, citing Meisel, Clahsen and Pienemann 1981) identifies two polar learner orientations: “segregative” and “integrative.” Examples of the relationship between these orientations and linguistic choice are plentiful. For example, Siegel (2008) attributes Fijians’ use of Pidgin Hindustani despite substantial contact with Hindi speakers to

1 ‘A white man’s love is like leprosy.’ Bukra refers to Euro-Carribean people, especially males. According to Allsopp (1996), bukra is derived from Efik while coco-bay ‘leprosy’ is derived from from Twi. 32 chapter two

Fijian reluctance to identify or be identified with the Indian population residing in their nation. S. Roberts (2000:294) similarly credits the emergence of a “radical” variety of Hawaiian Creole to a “strong stigma against Standard English” and the construction of local identity. Urban Guyanese Creole, which encodes a “strong social prejudice” against rural speech (W. Edwards 1990:101), provides a third example of how language choice encodes social distance. West Africa provides two interesting historical examples of integrative orientation and language choice. During the thirteenth-century Mali expansion, prisoners learned their captors’ languages in order to join kinship groups (G. Brooks 1993). In a second example, a period of intense trade resulted in Akan borrowing not only Wangara terms associated with commerce; the Akan also borrowed status terms and praise (de Marres 1987).2

2.1 Identity and Linguistic Community

A number of theorists have commented on the relationship between identity and community. Le Page and Tabouret-Keller (1985) illustrate the amalgamating of individual identities into a community. Labov explores the mechanism that makes the accumulation of linguistic alternatives possible both within (e.g., 1966, 1972) and across (e.g., 2010) generations. As he points out, speech communities are defined by the association of systematic variation with social meaning. This is the case whether these are drawn from a single language or from multiple languages. Citing especially Labov (1966), Bucholtz and Hall (2005:591) observe that all “associations between language and identity are rooted in . . . ideologies.” Thus, the community becomes “the major social unit” only to the extent that shared patterns and conventions of language use establish and maintain a model of reality (Eckert 2000:32). Failure to use a community’s language leads to exclusion. One is “characterized as an ‘other’ who has neither the entitlement nor the ability to participate actively” in community life (Kandiah 1995:xxi, quoted in Wierzbicka 2006). New World chattel slavery was “based on terror and repression” (Boyer 2010:21). In such environments, “common practice” emerges in response to “common threats to survival” (Tuten 2008:259). One such common practice

2 Among the borrowed terms was kotoku ‘sack’, which occurs in Virgin Islands English Creole as “kataku ‘basket’, usually in pairs, placed on horses, donkeys, or mules to carry loads” (Valls 1981). Though not documented in Negerhollands, given the presence of Akan people at the time Negerhollands was created, kataku is likely a retention. the colonial response 33 is language, which as Coulmas (2005:143) points out, “is the result rather than the prerequisite of cooperative action” since as G. Sankoff (1980:5, 69) observes, speakers organize “innocuous” linguistic elements into “a highly structured system of speech varieties that mirrors and reinforces social class and power distinctions.” Admittedly the poles identified by Meisel lack the precision necessary to accurately characterize individual, everyday experiences. Nevertheless, segregative and integrative orientations and the motivation for their emergence provide insight into linguistic responses to the colonial experience even when, as is often the case, linguistic data are unavailable. This chapter examines the relationship between language and identity for the Caribbean in general and for the Danish West Indies in particular. Throughout the Caribbean, community emerged when Africans’ self- ascribed identities conflicted with those imposed by an oppressive outgroup under conditions of extreme psychological and physical duress. Under such circumstances, as Le Page (1977:228) argues, “[t]he semiotic universe” of speakers of West African languages was preserved in the discourse of Afro- Caribbean vernaculars. Alleyne (1982:15) offers the transitive causative construction, which occurs both in (New) Kwa languages like Ga and Fante and in a number of Afro-Caribbean vernaculars, as an illustration of the relationship between grammatical form and world view.3 Identifying “causal interdependence” as an integral part of a retained West African “cosmol- ogy and belief system,” he sees sentences such as those in examples (1) and (2) as reflecting “an intricate network of causality involving man, nature, and the supernatural from which nothing escapes”(15).

(1) mi ka moe (Oldendorp 1987:255) 1.sg pfv tired ‘I have been made/become tired (by exertion, by illness, etc.)’

(2) an ka dot (MSA 2A)4 3.sg pfv dead. ‘s/he has been made/become dead (by old age, disease, etc.)’

3 This constructions is discussed in the literature as a passive, an ambi-passive, pseudo- passive, inchoative, and truncated passive. 4 Twentieth-century Negerhollands examples are identified according to the abbreviations in Table 1. The phonemicization of the twentieth-century Negerhollands forms reflects Mrs. Stevens’s vowel system as described in Chapter 7. Superscripted segments in de Jong (1926) are treated as full segments and stress is ignored since it is not contrastive in Negerhollands. 34 chapter two

Each linguistic community develops a “communication matrix” (Gumperz 1968:464 referencing Nadel 1957:31ff ) that reflects its cultural norms and spheres of activity that correlate with language behavior or enact what Gee (2001:526) calls Discourses that “integrate words, acts, values, beliefs, attitudes, and social identities. . . .” In overlapping linguistic communities or among speakers of different varieties of the same language, distance- enhancing miscommunication can emerge even when goals are shared and individuals cooperate to attain them (Fought 2006, Wierzbicka 2006). Loci for such misunderstandings range from pronunciation to pragmatics. Events can be trivial and soon repaired and forgotten, as for example, when a customer confuses a clerk’s request for fifty cents as a request for fifteen cents. They can also be transformative, establishing or reinforc- ing distance, for example, when resentment and resistance are triggered by directness, which although intended to be facilitative, is perceived as rude. The permeability of community boundaries often determines the degree to which they are marked linguistically (Korom 1994). As J. Berry (1980) demonstrates, assimilation, in which one group loses its cultural integrity and acquires the cultural characteristics of another group, frequently superordinate group, occurs most readily when they are culturally and psychologically similar. In addition to the desire for assimilation on the part of the subordinate group, acceptance by the superordinate group is necessary to reduce social distance (Bosher 1997). The history of immi- grant groups of European descent in the United States repeatedly demonstrates complete language shift by the third generation, and although learning an outgroup’s language frequently detracts from feelings of group loyalty, when assimilation is ardently desired, language shift can occur within a generation (e.g., Labov 1972, Giles and Bourhis 1975, Wolfram, Carter, and Moriello 2004). In contrast, linguistic divergence results in settings characterized by a high degree of social stratification (Gumperz 1967:228) and psychosocial distance (Christie 1983; Giles, Bourhis, and Taylor 1977; Giles 1979; Labov 2001; Whinnom 1971; Wolfram and Thomas 2002; Zelinsky 2001). This occurs even in communities in which “high and low forms are considered the same language by local populations” (Gumperz 1968:467). For example, M. Morgan (2002), Rickford (1999), Smitherman (1977), and Mary Ziegler (p.c., 4/10/2009) discuss the social cost African Americans pay for sounding white. Fordham and Ogbu (1986:181, 182) explain that such distinctions reflect not only the creation of oppositional identities and a “cultural frame of reference” that results in the avoidance of “certain the colonial response 35 forms of behavior and certain activities or events, symbol[s] and meanings as not appropriate for them.”

2.2 Ideological Clash in the Danish West Indies

Cultural asymmetries that were not mitigated either by geographic proximity or by material interdependence emerged at the very beginning of New World colonization. Africans, who had developed sophisticated artistic, spiritual, economic, political, and social systems long before encountering Europeans, were transported with few material resources. However, they carried with them their rich cultural histories—histories that Euro- peans neither understood nor appreciated. African artistic practices and aesthetic values were considered tasteless; clothing styles were viewed as immoral; medical practices and spiritual insights were disregarded as primitive; linguistic accomplishments were dismissed as inadequate. The result was ideological clash and psychosocial distance (Christie 1983) that created the impetus for the emergence of a Caribbean culture reflecting “ ‘[d]eep-level cultural principles’ shared by all African slaves despite their origins in different parts of Africa” (Olwig 1995:25, quoting Mintz and Price 1992:n.p.). An archeological excavation of an eighteenth-century plantation on a small island south of St. Thomas provides material evidence consistent with Olwig’s claim of cultural distinctiveness: Kidd (2006:91) reports pottery produced in St. Thomas that reveals African aesthetics and construction techniques. Carstens (1997), N. Hall (1992), and Olwig (1995) also mention conflict arising from Afro-Caribbean and Euro-Caribbean tastes with respect to music and dance. Thornton [1992:191] suggests that failure to consider either “multilingualism or nonlinguistic cultural sharing [has] tended to force real diversity beyond its true limits.” Religion emerged as another area of cultural persistence because lead- ers were able to “transcend ethnic boundaries and garner support from the diverse groups” (Pescatello 1977:27). Similarly, Mullin (1992:65) identifies cultural practices associated with death as “remain[ing] largely unas- similated” in the first generation throughout the Caribbean, noting that these and other aspects of culture were reinforced by newly arrived Afri- cans. Carstens (1997:6) documents such persistence in the Danish colony, observing that traditional religions were practiced “secretly” to avoid punishment. Summarizing his argument in The Invention of the White Race (1994– 1997), Allen (1998:par 14) locates the basis of European “racial oppression” 36 chapter two in the depersonalization manifest in the semantic changes associated with negro and its cognates that were discussed in the previous chapter. This view of humanity contrasts sharply with a set of cultural assumptions described by Owomoyela (1985:15) as essential to the “preserv[ation] of social harmony” in West Africa. In Owomoyela’s view, societies that rely on orality “favor circuitousness and opacity . . . [and are] solicitous and accommodating in urging . . . correction.” Along similar lines, specifically contrasting Dutch, and Akan and Ewe practices, Ameka and Breedveld (2004) comment on the latters’ preference for the use of one or more inter- mediaries when serious matters are under discussion. The importance of indirectness and circumspection in the Danish West Indies is illustrated by the use of proverbs for indirect social commentary and as non- confrontational didactic devices (Sabino and Gramberg 1997). European expectations of explicitness lie behind Oldendorp’s comment (reported by Meyer and Gilbert ms) on the difficulty that Negerhollands’s isolating structure and multifunctionality posed for translation and Pontoppidan’s (1881) complaint that Negerhollands lacked precision and logic. Economics (Carstens 1997, N. Hall 1992, Olwig 1995) and rhythms of work and leisure (Trouillot 2002) were also in contention. In African homelands, societies based on kinship were regulated by elders who “controlled the means of production” and “secur[ed] cooperation from junior [male] kin and affinal relatives” (Lovejoy 2003:12). Dependents,5 including those who were enslaved, increased lineage resources and “owed allegiance to a cooperative group in which mediation and direct involvement in decisions were characteristic” (Lovejoy 2003:114, Perbi 2002). In the Danish West Indies, those who were enslaved were considered to be “restless and unruly” (Keller 1908:499) property to be used or discarded. Coercion replaced cooperation since enslavement entailed participation in a production system that relied on exhausting, sustained labor under brutally oppressive supervision (Tyson and Highfield 1994). For example, Isert (1788 trans. in Paiewonsky 1989) describes agricultural workers trudging to the fields under the whip; unpaid agricultural labor was unregulated until the 1830s (N. Hall 1992). In addition to religion, aesthetics, politeness, mechanisms for social control, economics, and work and leisure, research has documented conflict between African and European temporal systems (Mullin 1992),

5 Dependents in kin-based societies also included pawns, concubines, children, youths, and wives (Lovejoy 2003, A. Klein 1969). the colonial response 37

Table 3. Community characteristics in the Danish West Indies (adapted from Arredondo 2008)6 Similarity is indicated by (S), dissimilarity by (D) Ascribed Characteristics Achieved Characteristics S Age D Educational background D Class S Geographic location D Culture D Recreation S Sex D Military experience D Ethnicity D Marital/Relationship status D Race D Work experience S Sexual orientation D Medical practices D Health status

gender roles (Sheppard 2003), pedagogy, philosophy (Bâ 1981, Graves 1977, Herskovitz 1945, Owomoyela 1985), ornamentation (Carstens 1997, Walvin 1983) and family organization. With respect to kinship systems, Hodgen (1977:76) comments that polygamy was seen as sinful, and Akan matrilin- eal descent was considered “evidence of human depravity.” Table 3 compares the Afro-Caribbean and Euro-Caribbean populations during the early decades of the Danish colony’s settlement. The unavail- ability of sociocultural detail results in only a rough comparison. Never- theless, the degree of difference is striking. Of fourteen characteristics, the communities share only age, sex, geographic location and presumably sexual orientation. Adult males predominated in both communities especially in the early decades, and though domiciles were separate, residence patterns tended to overlap. Opposing cultural orientations in Europe’s Caribbean colonies reflected “sharp social and racial stratification” (P. Roberts 2008:402) not laziness or stupidity on the part of non-Europeans, as Schultze suggests (1933, reported in Reinecke 1937). While there was some bidirectional cultural influence, for the most part ideological clash produced subaltern resistance that initially was “African in character” Mullin (1992:62; see also Lovejoy 2003, Olwig 1985, Page 1997, Thornton 1992, Walvin 1983). The enslaved population responded individually with poisoning, abortion, insubordination, sabotage, theft, work stoppage, feigned illness, surrep- titious ridicule, feigned incompetence, suicide, which Boyer (2010:31) describes as not unusual, and escape, which he describes as “frequent.”

6 Arredondo includes language under ascribed characteristics. Since I am arguing community dissimilarity undergirds linguistic difference, I exclude language from the table. 38 chapter two

Most Africans and their descendants did not learn European languages. Rather members of Afro-Caribbean communities created new languages that, while fully interpretable to their members, were only partly comprehensible to outsiders. Subaltern resistance was met with dominant repression. The practices of Northern/Germanic colonizers are reported to have been more virulent than those of Iberian colonizers (Alleyne 2005, Boyer 2010). Keller (1908) and N. Hall (1992:36) describe the Danish colony’s Euro-Caribbean population as suffering from a “state-of-siege-psychosis.” Whether as a result of social pathology that reflected fear and hate or as a byprod- uct of economic tactics, the Danish West Indies emerged as one of the “most violent” New World colonies (Sensbach 2005:23). Carstens (1997:54) describes the European-born elite as “arrogant . . . greedy . . ., vindictive, . . ., quick to anger . . . , inconsiderate, . . . loud, . . . ill-tempered toward anyone subordinate to them, . . . nasty . . . [and] lazy.” He finds considerably less fault with those colonizers who are locally born, describing them as “mod- est” . . . “polite” . . . and “kind.” But apparently such behavior did not extend to the enslaved whom colony’s laws viewed as “depraved and inherently criminal” (N. Hall 1992:56). Boyer (2010), Carstens (1994, 1997), N. Hall (1992), Kea (1996) and Olwig (1985) all document legally sanctioned ill treatment in the Danish colony. C. Taylor (1888:4) indicates that from the earliest years, enslaved Africans, who were “often cruelly punished for the slightest offense,” were treated worse than indentured Europeans. In 1684, “. . . regulations prescribing severe punishment” (Boyer 2010:25) limited the activities of those enslaved in the colony. Infractions resulted in whipping so severe that it “removed” skin (Carstens 1994:13). The incor- rigible were hanged, their severed heads placed on stakes as a warning to others (Knox 1982). In 1685, death by impalement was introduced. As the Afro-Caribbean population increased, verbal abuse, physical restraint, whipping, disfigurement, amputation (including castration), rape, torture, and murder were widespread. In 1720, a tax-supported fund was established to compensate planters whose slaves were “legally killed or injured” (Boyer 2010:26), putting those who were enslaved at further risk. In 1733, regulations were passed that C. Taylor (1888:101) describes as enacting “oppression and a tyranny which has scarcely any parallel.” Among the prescribed punishments were pinching with a “red-hot iron” followed by hanging, amputation, whipping, branding, and death by hanging or breaking on a wheel. Free(d) members of the Afro-Caribbean community who “harbour[ed] a slave or thief ” were subject to banishment or enslavement. Hands were amputated for theft. Tongues were excised for shouting at the colonial response 39 members of the Euro-Caribbean community (Carstens 1997, N. Hall 1992). If a Euro-Caribbean resident was physically threatened, the punishment was first amputation and then death. Like cultural clash, ill treatment resulted in resistance that engendered repressive measures. Evidence from skeletal remains has not been reported for the Danish West Indies. However, research elsewhere in the Caribbean reveals pervasive ill-health (Shuler 2005), indicating that dietary inadequacy and famines caused by drought and devastating storms, resulted in arrested growth and periodic starvation that contributed to early death. “[D]raughty and damp” housing further impaired “fertility, and general well-being” (N. Hall 1992:77–79). Oldendorp (1987:28, 236) comments in the late 1760s that although plantations were neither large nor numerous, intense cultivation practices and inadequate living conditions resulted in maroonage. Short-term absence, which often occurred in response to brutal treatment or insufficient food, resulted in collars, leg irons, and cut hamstrings. Grand maroonage lasting three months was punished with 500 lashes with a whip of dried, plaited hide. Wounds left by the whip were smeared with salt or pepper, and persons punished this way were required to express thanks for their punishment.7 A six-month absence was punished with punitive amputation. Absence of a year or more was punished with death. In 1775, regulations issued by the Danish king finally prohibited torture and mutilation and the forced separation of families. However, the same regulations also provided corporal punishment for free persons of color who took their former owners’ family names (N. Hall 1992). By this time, individuals who had been freed were granted rights equal to those who were “free-born” in the eyes of the colony’s legal system. Nevertheless, similar restrictions applied to and similar punishments were meted out to all members of the Afro-Caribbean community (N. Hall 1992:146, Sensbach 2005). Ill treatment also extended to non-punitive interactions. Equiano (1789:236) describes being cheated and beaten by “two white men” when he was in St. Croix because, as an enslaved person, he was powerless to stop the injustice.

7 Oldendorp (1987:232) provides the following improbable observation: “Many of the masters and mistresses take the trouble to show the Negroes their dissatisfaction by the use of this instrument. . . . Lashes that the slave receives from his master do not cause him misery for long; at least, he considers them less insulting by far than those he gets from the bomba. He considers it almost an honor to receive this sign of attention from his master and he will not forget to utter Daŋki Meester (thank you, master!) when it is over.” 40 chapter two

Figure 3. Punitive amputation (adapted from Foger 1698, courtesy of the Auburn University Libraries) the colonial response 41

Resistance and opposition were so much a part of the culture in the Dan- ish colony that even after emancipation, Olwig (1985:85) describes the Afro-Caribbean population on St. John as having “a unique mistrust of all that is white” (Olwig 1985:85). One manifestation of this is that Danes and Germans were sometimes suspected of being werewolves (Kohls 1973– 1974). A traditional story that, as told in the Bahamas, Sea Islands, and Guyana, the evildoer is an old hag (Rickford 1986) was related to me by Mrs. Stevens as an account about a local werewolf. In the story, members of a field gang salt the skin of a white overseer when he leaves it behind during an excursion under the full moon. Upon his return, the overseer asks, “Skin, skin, you no know me? Kin,8 kin, ‘tis me” (MSA 26A), but to no avail. When the field hands come to his cabin, ostensibly to find out why they have not been called to work, they find him in bed with the covers pulled up to his eyes. They observe with some satisfaction his skin hanging uselessly on a bedside chair. Cultural assumptions like those discussed above are most likely to be maintained when they are widely shared by group members and apply to a range of contexts (Straus and Quinn 1997). Because this was the case in the Danish West Indies, although there was bidirectional cultural influence, even violence was at no point completely successful in achieving assimilation. Rather, oppression was met with a “sustaining culture of resistance” (Tyson and Highfield 1994:ix). As a result, although “the Danes were clearly not rabid, apartheid-practicing racists,” the colony’s Afro- Caribbean community was “only very superficially influenced by Danish cultural elements despite 200 plus years of colonization“ and the social system that emerged left “traumatic marks” that persist into the twenty- first century (Highfield 2009:196, 126).

2.3 Building Community

The persistence of Caribbean ethnic and class distinctions, which Alleyne (2005:245) describes as “caste-like,” testifies to the degree that shared world view, cultural practice, and resistance united Africans and their descendants into self-sustaining, tightly networked communities. Thus it is not surprising that a number of researchers have remarked on the relationship of marginalization and resistance to the creation of social

8 ‘Skin’. 42 chapter two groups marked and maintained by cultural difference (e.g., Mintz and Price 1992; Trouillot 2002, Washabaugh and Greenfield 1983). Warner- Lewis (1996:40) identifies the emergence of such solidarity as “[o]ne of the earliest sociocultural reactions to alienation and class oppression,” and N. Smith (2006:50) argues that antagonisms perpetuated by chattel slavery insured that “in most small colonies [,] a new colony-wide slave ethnicity developed very rapidly.” In the Danish colony, strategies of resistance and adaption produced “notions of cultural identity and belonging” (Olwig 1995:24) as Africans realized that there was little reason to identify with or seek solidarity with those who sought to control their lives and labor. Thus, while ideological clash and ill treatment created the impetus for the emergence of Carib- bean culture, the creation of community provided the means by which it was instantiated. Similarities among Africans and conflict between Afri- cans and Europeans promoted the formation first of networks and then of community for both groups. European resettlement of the New World was both voluntary (e.g., for colonists and indentured servants) and involuntary (e.g., for naval con- scripts and transported criminals). Trans-atlantic crossings disrupted social networks; however, a shared world view, assumptions of cultural superiority, and the challenges of maintaining a hegemony that posi- tioned enslaved Africans at the bottom of the social hierarchy united Europeans and their offspring into a cultural community. For Africans, involuntary transshipment radically disrupted established networks. The creation of new relationships began after initial capture and continued during imprisonment on the West African Coast and during the Middle Passage. The specific heritage cultures of the Africans landed in St. Thomas cannot be determined precisely from existing records. However, as discussed in the following chapter, we do know that after 1677 and again after 1681, the Danes purchased Akan people, whose clan structure provided unity since clan members acknowledged “the tie of blood even if they were complete strangers to one another and lived a hundred miles apart” (Ward 1966:117, n 40). Additionally, as Miller (2002:42) suggests, even those who did not share a heritage culture would have achieved “a sense of familiarity with one another and would have created alliances out of it.” Although Caribbean plantations were “prison camps, but without fences” (N. Smith 2006:54), Africans established private lives “even on the worst estates” (Thornton 1992:163). Social and religious events occurred in the colonial response 43 the evenings; economic activity sustained and enriched life, and African people “reconstitute[d] families that were African in character “ (Mullin 1992:273). New relationships and those that were not disrupted at landing develop in the Danish colony, providing comfort, if not protection (e.g., Berlin and Morgan 1993, Hernæs 2002, Olwig 1985, P. Roberts 2008). Non-sanguinal kin relationships were established during Africans’ initial period of residency as illustrated by Oldendorp’s (1987:220) description of the housing of newly landed Africans with “parents” “whose proper con- duct has earned [their owner’s] trust. Mullin (1992:74) identifies such relationships as integral to resistance and the struggle for “liberation,” and D. Berry (2008) discusses the importance of both sanguinal and non-sanguinal relationships for maintaining a sense of identity, despite separation and sexual assault. (See also Pat- terson 1967 and M. Lewis 1969.) Both the historical record and linguistic evidence speak to the importance of such relationships in the Danish colony. In addition to terms for sanguinal relationships such as /muma/ ‘mother’, /tita/ ‘father’, /buči/ ‘brother’, and /šiši/ ‘sister’, the Negerhol- lands words for ‘shipmate, countryman, fellow, companion’ are /mat/ (a reflex of Dutch maat, maet and Zeeuwese maet(e) ‘mate’),9 /kabe/ (a reflex of carabeer ‘shipmate’, source unknown) and /kontri/ (a reflex of English country). These were used to describe relationships like that of a daughter who arranged for the burial of a woman who survived the Middle Pas- sage with the daughter’s parents (Olwig 1995). Such relationships were so fundamental to Afro-Caribbean social structure in the Danish colony that Sensbach (2005) locates the source of the Moravian missionaries’ success in a mentoring system that mirrored them. Thus, it is not surprising that there are also number of Negerhollands and Virgin Islands English Creole non-sanguinal terms for relationships that emerged from religious practice: /dopma/ ‘godmother, stepmother’, /komadu/ ‘godmother, mother’s friend’, /kompadu/ ‘godfather, father’s friend’, /meme/, /mima/, and /nɛn(i)/ ‘godmother’. Europeans and Africans initially were mutually interdependent, living in scattered farmsteads called plantai in Negerhollands. However, the African population had limited access to material resources. The dis- pensing of the resources that were available to those who strengthened

9 Patterson (1967:150) writes that “shipmate seems synonymous . . . with brother or sister [and] is the dearest word and bond of affectionate sympathy amongst Africans.” Also see the discussion in Mintz and Price 1992. 44 chapter two network bonds through “active social practice” (Gee 2001:529) enhanced survival. Tyson and Highfield (1994:xiii) point to plantation “villages” as loci of network development. Olwig (1985) similarly suggests that during the seventeenth century, Afro-Caribbean networks were densest and most multiplex within estate boundaries. By the eighteenth century, since within estates the enslaved population was related, consensual unions were established across estate boundaries, creating “the basis of a group identity among all slaves” (81). Olwig speculates that provision grounds, located on estate borders were worked cooperatively by persons from several plantations. Clusters of these “constitut[ed] small [autonomous] hamlet-like settlements on the outermost fringe of plantation society” (45). In addition to residence patterns and cooperative farming, fishing, and marketing, work details, festivities, and religious observances brought members of the Afro-Caribbean population together across plantation boundaries, creating community and advancing vernacular norms. Afro- Caribbean identity was also embraced by those maroons by those who were free(d) and by those who, although they remained enslaved manage to avoid Euro-Caribbean control (Arends 2004, Cotto et al. 2010). By the 1730s, according to Sensbach (2005:42), the “tenuous free identity” of a segment of the Afro-Caribbean community encouraged division, but, on the whole, legal status did not divide this community which was united by family ties. Rather, mutual support is demonstrated by the inef- fectiveness of a series of laws designed to limit social interaction between the two groups and by punishments established for free(d) persons who helped those who were enslaved to escape (N. Hall 1992). Thus, although internal differentiation emerged over time, the Afro-Caribbean community was united in the face of the colonial administration’s “unwavering” racism and the “hostile, suspicious and unyielding . . . belief in the freed- man’s innate inferiority” (N. Hall 1992:162, 167).

2.4 Communal Identity and Language

Alleyne (1982, 2005:10) identifies network responses to communicative pressures as the key to creole origins: dense networks were crucial to the retention of cultural allegiance as a means of managing “social, economic[,] and cultural oppression.” The details of network associations are not recorded for the Danish colony. However, research on language and ethnic identity indicates that social distancing is accomplished with the “aggressive” use of extreme variants (Eckert 1989:254 speaking to a relationship identified in Labov 1963). the colonial response 45

Decades of sociolinguistic research supports the claim that, because the Afro-Caribbean community valued African cultural features while the Euro-Caribbean community did not, the two communities spoke dif- ferently. For example, Rickford (1985) describes ethnic differentiation in the speech of two elderly Gullah speakers closely matched for socioeco- nomic background. Although Mrs. Queen, who is African American, and Mr. King, who is European American, share a number of phonological similarities, Rickford reports qualitative and quantitative differences in their encoding of plurality, possession, and passive. Rickford locates the source of this difference partially in the speakers’ desire to maintain ethnic distinctiveness. Wolfram, Hazen, and Schilling-Estes (1999) provide a second example. The elderly African-American woman they describe is a member of a family that has resided for many generations in a predominantly European-American community geographically distant from vibrant African-American communities. However, despite cordial relations with white neighbors, she avoids local phonological features, selecting instead features from African American Vernacular English. Other examples of linguistically marked ethnic differentiation in the American South are discussed in Feagin 1997a, 2003 and Hazen 2002, among others. Research also reveals that African Americans selectively adopt local variants (W. Edwards 1997, Fridland 2003, Head 2003, Labov 1972), that when social conditions worsen, differentiation increases (Labov 1984, cited in Rickford 1986), and that when conditions ameliorate, language differences decrease (van Hofwegen n.d.). This is because while frequent and prolonged interaction across group boundaries provides opportunities to extend receptive and productive repertoires, as Peirce (1995) and Gee (2001:538) point out, all discourse groups privilege their “own concepts, viewpoints, and values at the expense of others.” Thus, social dynamics determine whether and to what extent community members will avail themselves of the opportunities they are presented with. Although like all value systems, those in the Caribbean are fluid and context dependent (Carrington 1993), the brutal and rigid social dynamics of plantation slavery were such that, even today, it is possible to identify idealized polar values broadly reinterpreting either West African or Western European cultural systems (Alleyne 1980, 2005, Mintz 1971, Reis- man 1970). Admittedly such abstraction prioritizes salient forms and constructions at the expense of intermediate values that reflect the variability inherent in the language use of situated individuals. Such prioritization is defensible for the Danish colony and other Caribbean communities because it reflects widespread agreement on the mapping of form and social meaning—what Patrick (2002:18) describes as “the relevant 46 chapter two

opposing values [and] . . . the rules for invoking them” (see also Winford 1988 and Rickford 1987, whom Patrick cites). The Afro-Caribbean population in the Danish colony initially spoke a number of African languages. The survival benefits of developing some degree of competence in the languages of the European population were substantial. However, careful consideration of evidence for the rapid development of a new ethnicity predicts the development of a language variety that would encode it. From this perspective Negerhollands is considered to have emerged as Africans enhanced their survival by augment- ing “scaffolding” from heritage languages with “exterior finishing” (Nicholls (2004:134) from languages spoken by the colony’s Euro-Caribbean population. Initially, Africans selected Germanic linguistic features that, in the words of Warner-Lewis (1996:190), “least disturbed the mother tongue syntactic frame.” The limited grammatical correspondence between the Dutch and Negerhollands’ verbal systems and prepositional modifiers (Bruyn and Veenstra 1993) illustrates this as do phonology, plural marking and verb serialization to be discussed in chapters 7, 8, and 9. Du Tertre (1667–71, reported in Maher 1994) suggests that very early in the colonization of Martinique, enslaved children learned a contact language from the planters’ children rather than their parents’ African languages. Although Europeans and Africans initially were mutually interdependent, such a scenario is unlikely for the Danish West Indies. Accord- ing to both Hågensen (1994:2) and J. Schmidt (1994:112), enslaved children were brought into the fields with mothers or were cared for by other members of the Afro-Caribbean community until they were about six. Since by the age of two and a half, children learning more than one language begin to make linguistic choices (D. Johnson 2006:88), and children acquire “many of the interactional norms related to ethnic background” (Fought 2006:169) before they are six, enslaved children had ample opportunity to acquire communication strategies that reflected ethnic interactional norms. Although these facts indicate that initially there was some transmission of African languages at the level of the individual, for the Afro-Caribbean community as a whole, the trans-generational language learning was “radically disruptive” as children acquired the patterns of the emerging community (Thomason 2001:259, Labov 2010). The final result was creole genesis and language shift. For the Euro-Caribbean community linguistic contact was “non-disruptive.” Seeing themselves initially as “Europeans in temporary exile” (Mintz 1971:487), colonists retained their heritage languages. When these did not the colonial response 47 suffice, they used a Dutch koiné (Holm 1986, Schneider 2007).10 Oldendorp suggests that Euro-Caribbean children learned creole under the influence of slightly older Afro-Caribbean children and/or Afro-Caribbean care givers (Holm 1988, referencing Stein 1984). This occurred to some extent; however, as illustrated in Magens’s (Hale n.d.:n.p.) dialogue between a father and son, contact with Africans was seen as corrupting. According to local opinion, ‘dumb creoles’ were uncultured ‘mules’ whose obsession with money caused them to squander the opportunities for a European education afforded them by their ‘stupid’ parents. Thus, although, as Mintz and Price (1992) point out, enslaved care givers had some power over the children in their charge, and younger children imitate the behavior of those who are slightly older, ethnicity and class status allowed only partial adaption, not full use of Negerhollands. Euro-Caribbean children who acquired productive competence in Negerhollands suppressed variants strongly associated with the Afro-Caribbean population even as they grafted less-stigmatized features onto the Dutch koiné. The result was Hoch Kreol, the variety of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole documented in Magens’s prescriptive grammar. Research on crossing (e.g., Cutler 1999, Hewitt 1982, B. Rampton 1995) suggests that male Euro-Caribbean adolescents may have led this indexing of local Euro-colonial identity with selected creole features. It is interesting to note that similar scenarios have been advanced for the emergence of Euro-colonial contact varieties in other settings. In Mau- ritius, Baker (1976, cited in Baker and Winer 1998:108), proposes differences “between black and white usage” that reflect “black usage becoming adopted by whites.” C.-J. Bailey (1980:156) indicates the speech of “Afri- can slaves” influenced “educated white speakers” in Barbados, Trinidad, Charleston, “and other Tidewater centers.” Algeo (2003) and Feagin (1997b) propose that Afro-American domestic workers and craftspersons influenced Southern English in the United States through contact with European American children. Childs (2003:207–8) reports partial adoption of the language varieties of economically and politically subordinate populations by superordinate groups in South Africa (Fanagalo), in Swa- hili speaking areas (KiSetla), and in the Pacific (Tok Masta).

10 Mufwene (1996, referencing Buccini 1994) proposes such koinés originated in port cities such as Amsterdam, where the Danish and Brandenburg mercantile companies that transhipped Africans to the Danish West Indies were capitalized. 48 chapter two

2.4.1 The Internal Differentiation of Negerhollands The “hierarchal, racialized, patriarchal class society with structured inequalities, exploitive social and material arrangements, and asymmetrical power relations” (Kea 1996:170, referencing Westergård 1917) that emerged in the Danish West Indies provided only limited opportunities for Africans and their descendants to enhance their status or to benefit mate- rially from linguistic assimilation. Nevertheless, although limited, these opportunities differentiated those who were more and less privileged, and a correlation between language and social status emerged. African-born bussals11 assigned to agricultural tasks suffered the most difficult working and living conditions and had the shortest life spans. In contrast, although ties reflecting residence patterns, and kin and work relationships united the Afro-Caribbean community, Afro-Caribbean domestics, artisans, and bombas ‘drivers’ had higher status, more freedom, and greater material comfort. Additionally, although this was not universally the case since many duties could be executed with minimal interaction with Euro- Caribbean supervisors (Olwig 1985), some members of this group had greater access to speakers of European language varieties. This differentiation influenced the direction in which Negerhollands changed over time. The importation of Africans continued through the early nineteenth century; however, as discussed in the next chapter, this had different effects on the colony’s three islands. Persons who developed weaker network ties with the Afro-Caribbean community and who had more contact with members of the Euro-Caribbean community were a second vector of change (Arends 2001). This vector particularly impacted language use in Charlotte Amalie, the town on St. Thomas. But even there, the Germanic variants are likely to have entered Negerhollands slowly. Like twentieth-century, East-Alabama African-American students who limit “white people voice” to interactions with European Americans (Roof 2007:1), Germanic variants were used initially with members of the Euro- Caribbean community. Thus, despite change, Negerhollands remained associated with the Afro-Caribbean community into the late twentieth century.

11 Kea (1996:171) indicates that bussals were Africans who had arrived “within a year or so.” Two false etymologies for bussal appear in Carstens (1997). The first points to words in unidentified African languages meaning ‘stranger, foreigner’(63). The second posits a Greek source “meaning big blockhead or nut” (83). the colonial response 49

2.5 Summary

Linguistic communities are composed of individuals whose shared reper- toire of alternatives enable the successful performance of social identities. This intimate relationship between language and identity allows us to draw inferences about the early, undocumented decades of settlement in the Danish West Indies during which Old World identities were superceded by new ones. As a result of difficult living conditions, the process took decades. First Africans and Europeans, then Afro-Caribbean and Euro- Caribbean populations, and finally Afro-Caribbean and Euro-Caribbean communities creatively drew on available linguistic resources. Two spoken varieties of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole, both reflecting group solidarity, emerged from this process: the earliest variety to emerge was a creole in the traditional sense. Negerhollands was created by the Afro-Caribbean community. Negerhollands emerged as speakers of Afri- can languages negotiated, on the one hand, the considerable threats to their material survival posed by chattel slavery, and, on the other, the social and psychological challenges posed by cultural clash. Language choice was further influenced as Africans formed social networks in the seventeenth century that provided some measure of independence and distance from those who would exploit them. The expansion of these networks across plantation boundaries led to the formation of an Afro-Carib- bean community and to the creation of Negerhollands. Because network density and multiplexity “crucially” determine linguistic loyalty (Coulmas 2005:31), antagonism between the Afro-Caribbean and Euro-Caribbean communities reinforced initial linguistic differences. The second variety, Hoch Kreol, emerged as members of the Euro- Caribbean community appropriated Negerhollands features to encode colonial (as opposed to European) identity. However, Hoch Kreol was not creolized as the term is generally understood. Evidence presented in this and the preceding chapter indicates the Africans and Europeans experienced the displacement of the transatlantic crossing and the challenges of the colony’s plantation economy in pro- foundly different ways. During most of the colony’s existence, conflicting assumptions, practices, needs, desires, and goals resulted in cycles of dominant repression and subaltern resistence. Thus, the language varieties of the enslaved and the enslaver, though they shared some features, were differentiated from one another. Because the colony’s residents imbued their linguistic differences with social meaning, the genesis of Negerhollands and the creation of Hoch Kreol are predicted by the colony’s deep divides. 50 chapter two

Although the interests of the Afro-Caribbean and the Euro-Caribbean communities in the Danish colony were sharply opposed, some members of these communities were mutually dependent in some areas of their lives. Overtime, bidirectional acculturation occurred that was selective and partial. As a result Negerhollands speakers continued to adapt and adopt features of the Germanic languages that they encountered. Mem- bers of the Euro-Caribbean community may also have learned Negerhol- lands; however, of this they have left no record. Chapters 1 and 2 have established the sociocultural context in which a new language emerged in the Danish colony. The next two chapters expand the narrative by examining the colony’s history. Chapter 3 establishes when the Afro-Caribbean community stabilized, providing insight into who created Negerhollands. This chapter also discusses the impetus for the emergence of Hoch Kreol and examines the events that lead to the replacement of Dutch and Virgin Islands Dutch Creole with English and Virgin Islands English Creole. Chapter 4 considers the Virgin Islands Dutch Creole documentation and interrogates how this is best interpreted. Chapter three

A HISTORY AND DEMOGRAPHY OF THE DANISH WEST INDIES

God give you load, God give you strength (Virgin Islands proverb)

Figure 4. A view of Charlotte Amalie from a French Ship (From Froger 1700, courtesy of Michigan State University Libraries) 52 chapter three

3.0 Introduction

Although there was an earlier attempt at settlement, for our purpose, the story of Danish West Indies begins in 1672 when a Danish trading company permanently settled St. Thomas. As England and Holland warred over maritime trade, the Vestindisk-guineisk Kompagnie established a colony that would be dependent on enslaved labor for much of its history. As the colony’s residents struggled to survive on this small, arid island, they deployed their disparate linguistic resources to recreate personal and communal identities and to establish and maintain social relationships. The arrival of the first enslaved Africans in 1673, only a year after St. Thomas was settled, initiated a trajectory that, with the early loss of the Amerindian population, played out in the colony’s linguistically heterogeneous Afro- Caribbean and Euro-Caribbean communities. Although population ratios were low, there is no indication that members of the Euro-Caribbean population learned African languages. As heritage language use declined in the Afro-Caribbean population, those who remained in the colony responded by creating local identities and a language to encode it. The colony’s race- based social system of exploitation and privilege insured that, once these Afro- and Euro-Caribbean communities emerged, they remained distinct despite the geographic proximity in which they lived. As pointed out in Sabino 1990, Zelinsky’s Doctrine of First Effective Set- tlement provides competing hypotheses for the emergence of Caribbean creoles. One alternative is that when population ratios were low, initially European languages prevailed. These were later dislodged when Africans came to outnumber locally born populations. The other alternative is that Afro-Caribbean populations created creole languages at the beginning of the settlement period even though their numbers were small. Zelinsky (1973:14) writes that “even a few score” can have a substantially greater impact than “the contributions of tens of thousands of new immigrants a few generations later.” Salisbury (1967:46, cited in Mühlhäusler 1985:62) documents language stabilization with as few as twenty pidgin speakers; with fewer, “each speaker has idiosyncracies and gets away with unstan- dard (bad) pidgin. With twenty speakers, idiosyncracies are scorned and standardization in the rule.” Scenarios of both early and late creole genesis have been advanced for the Danish colony due to a lack of documented language use during the initial settlement period. There are also conflicting views on whether Negerhollands developed locally or not. The majority of researchers hold a history and demography of the danish west indies 53 that Virgin Islands Dutch Creole1 was formed in situ. Larsen (1950:105, 104), identifies lexical contributions and “idiomatic African ways of speaking” (105) in “Negro Dutch Creole”, suggesting it emerged during early colonization as “ owners . . . began to teach their slaves” Dutch. Sprauve (1990) posits the language of the colony’s Afro-Caribbean community emerging in the late seventeenth century. Arguing for a similar scenario, Sabino (1990) demonstrates that a viable, self-perpetuating Afro-Caribbean population that began vernacularizing a contact variety was established by the 1690s. Bruyn and Veenstra (1993) and de Klein (2007) also date creole emergence to the late seventeenth century. Stolz and Stein (1986) are neutral with respect to where Virgin Islands Dutch Creole emerged. Den Besten et al. (1996:1) propose a new language emerged in the Danish colony at the beginning of the eighteenth century, describing 1672 to 1739 as “the formative period.” They also write that “Negerhollands only really flourished between 1730 and 1830,” a period that begins about the time that the Moravian missionaries arrived and ends a bit after the publication of the last Virgin Islands Dutch Creole religious text. Muysken (1995:336) identifies Papiamentu as contributing to the development of Negerhollands. However, the 1688 Land Lister indicates that less than 2 percent of the free persons living on St. Thomas were born in Curaçao at that time (Horlacher and D. Knight 1998, chart 5). Addition- ally, a comparison of the tables 7 and 8 (below) reveals that slightly more than twice the number of Africans arrived in the colony between 1673 and 1688 than there were “Blacks” residing in the colony in 1688. Although the death rate was high for both Africans and Europeans during the first decade of settlement, the rate of growth for the Afro-Caribbean population living with speakers of European languages discussed below suggests that St. Thomas planters had no reason to prefer individuals imported from Curaçao to those available locally. Negerhollands does share some core vocabulary with Papiamentu since both contain reflexes of Dutch and Ibero-Romance, some of which are documented in an unpublished glossary prepared by Oldendorp in the 1760s (Oldendorp et al. 1996). However, two recent phylogenetic network analyses using different data sets, Huber, et al. (2010) and Bakker et al.

1 The use of Negerhollands in the literature to refer to the language of the colony as a whole rather than to the language developed by the colony’s Afro-Caribbean community makes it difficult to discuss these scenarios with precision. 54 chapter three

(2011), reveal the structural independence of Papiamentu and Negerhol- lands. This too points to independent emergence. Goodman (1985:85, p.c., 4/25/1989), admitting the evidence is “entirely circumstantial,” also sees external influence on the language of the Danish colony. He suggests that Negerhollands derives from a creole brought to the colony prior to 1691 by people enslaved by Dutch émigrés. This proposal is considered in detail below. Doing so reveals the point at which the Afro-Caribbean population stabilized. Further exploration of the colony’s history also reveals the impetus for the emergence of Hoch Kreol and posits a chronology for language shift from Dutch and Virgin Islands Dutch Creole to English and Virgin Islands English Creole.

3.1 Colonization and the Struggle for Survival

As early as 1622, Dutch financiers applied to the Danish king for permission to form a West Indian trading company. Danish trade with Africa did not begin until the 1640s. In the 1650s, trade relations were extended to the West Indies. The Vestindisk-guineisk Kompagnie was established in 1671 (Gøbel 2002). In 1672, six years after a previous unsuccessful attempt, Denmark permanently settled St. Thomas with Europeans. In addition to being authorized to take possession of St. Thomas, the Vestindisk-guineisk Kompagnie was charged with building forts, hiring a militia, establishing a court, and maintaining shipping. In the early period of settlement, the colony’s Euro-Caribbean population consisted of three social classes. In the highest class were Danish officials, clergy, planters, and merchants. Below them were overseers, craftsmen, clerks, and soldiers. The lowest class were indentured servinger. According to Horlacher and D. Knight (1998), the initial landing party consisted of 190 persons with only 15 percent surviving after seven months.2 The first evidence of an enslaved population on St. Thomas occurs in a set of thirteen orders issued that same year (Knox 1982), only one of which refers to enslaved persons. That the other articles regulated the activities of planters and servinger suggests there were few enslaved Africans in the colony at this time. Hale provides additional evidence that the enslaved

2 Westergård (1917:34) reports that 181 colonists left Denmark including 61 convicts and “women whose disorderly lives [had] brought them into arrest,” as well as indentured servants and employees of the Danish company. Carstens (1997) reports that 85 percent died at sea or soon after arrival. a history and demography of the danish west indies 55 population at this time was too small, too dispersed, and too stressed by the requirements of infrastructure building to have strongly influenced the colony’s language: in the introduction to his undated translation of Magens’s prescriptive Hoch Kreol grammar, Hale mentions a 1673 census referring to “a few black slaves who had been brought to St. Thomas from nearby islands by their primarily Dutch masters,” refugees from the Third Dutch War (1672–1674).3 Later that year, the Cornelia arrived with 103 Africans to relieve the colony’s labor shortage. This doubled the colony’s population. A second ship with 60 settlers, all of whom were dead in four months, also arrived in 1673. During the first three years, the survival rate among Europeans was “less than 19 percent” (Boyer 2010:10). G. Lewis (1972) attributes the colony’s difficulties to three factors: the character of the settlers, challenges the tropical climate presented to Northern Europeans, and the lack of infrastructure. This last factor impacted both free and unfree alike. Although similar mortality figures do not exist during this period for the African population, mortality is certain to have been high among this group as well since the death rate among enslaved populations elsewhere in the New World was highest on newly established plantations (Green-Pedersen 1981, Morrissey 1989) and among those born in Africa (Mullin 1992). In St. Thomas the number of Africans and Europeans reached parity almost immediately (Westergård 1917) in contrast to the plantation colonies established by the French, where according to Chaudenson (2003, reported in Valdman 2005), the European population was numerically superior for thirty years or more. During the first years of settlement in the Danish colony, adults and able children built the infrastructure of St. Thomas. When possible these tasks were assigned to the enslaved, who cleared land, planted and harvested crops, dug wells, and built and maintained domiciles, animal pens, machinery, roads, docks, public buildings, mills, and sorting houses, often making the tools and building materials to do so. They burned charcoal for cooking, fished, hunted, and cared for domesticated animals. They also prepared the products of their labor for consumption, storage, or shipment. They filled, emptied, and repaired ships and built boats. They made and maintained clothing, furniture, household utensils, and furnishings. By 1679, a road was cleared, fortifications were

3 The 1673 population figures are cited in a number of sources. However, according to Erik Gøbel, the 1680 Land Lister provides the earliest population data (p.c., 11/15/1988). 56 chapter three built, and trade was established with nearby islands (Carstens 1997). As the colony’s infrastructure was established and conditions improved, the survival rate rose: by 1675, 40 percent of 58 new settlers were alive after seven months (Horlacher and D. Knight 1998). Sensbach (2005:8) characterizes the Vestindisk-guineisk Kompagnie’s activities as “slave trading [and the operation of] sugar and cotton plantations.” However, it was not until 1684 that cultivation had increased sufficiently to allow fines to be paid in sugar instead of tobacco (Boyer 2010). Staples, including maize, millet, and cassava, were planted on 90 percent of the plantations in 1691 (Westergård 1917). In addition to tobacco, cotton, and sugar, the colony initially traded in indigo, ginger, cacao, sea turtle hides, and lumber. Though ultimately costly in both human and economic terms, the trade in Africans was integral to the colony’s agricultural expansion since as late as 1697 a report from a visiting French ship indicates that the “product of the place is sugar and indigo, but no great quantity of them” (Froger 1698). Despite progress, the colony’s existence was precarious for the first decade (Westergård 1917, Horlacher and D. Knight 1998). Information about the persons associated with individual plantations is not available prior to 1680. A 1680 Land Lister 4 identifies 156 whites and 175 enslaved persons, including one indigenous person, living on 46 plantations on St. Thomas. Males outnumbered females 3:2. Among those identified by both age and ethnicity, were 53 Euro-Caribbean children and 35 Afro- Caribbean children. The size of St. Thomas (3 by 13 miles) makes it likely that, despite difficult living conditions, there was communication across plantation boundaries even at this time. Nevertheless, although the Afri- cans delivered to the colony engaged in some individual language learning, like those who may have been brought to the colony by Dutch refugees, they were too isolated and too debilitated by the requirements of survival to have vernacularized Negerhollands. In 1685, the year in which Johann Sebastian Bach was born, a few French Protestants and Dutch planters settled on St. Thomas (Westergård 1917), and the Brandenburg African Company established a factory in response

4 Use of the Land Lister is limited by three factors. The most important is that enslaved persons are listed only by age, sex, and their ability to work. Thus, while stability can be assumed it is not assured. Second, as tax documents, they may reflect efforts to avoid taxa- tion (Westergård 1917). As seventeenth-century documents they are sometimes difficult to decipher due to illegible handwriting and damage; however, systematic nature of the entries diminishes this difficulty. a history and demography of the danish west indies 57 to the Spanish Crown’s desire to purchase acclimatized Africans. Like the Vestindisk-guineisk Kompagnie and the Swedish African Company, the Brandenburg African Company was capitalized in Amsterdam (Rawley and Behrendt 2005). The Brandenburgers, who spoke Low German dialects were granted the right to free trade for 30 years and “as much land as could be cultivated within a reasonable time with the help of 200 slaves” (Baa 1978:19). The following year, a promise of land grants, religious freedom, a duty- free port, and an eight-year exemption from taxes enticed more settlers from other Caribbean islands to St. Thomas. To further promote prosperity and growth, the Danish King granted the colony “right of free trade in the West Indies in 1687” (Oldendorp 1987:24). Horlacher and D. Knight (1998), translation of the 1688 Land Lister indicates the colony’s population (excluding persons associated with the Brandenburg African Company, the Danish military, and those associated with the Vestindisk-guineisk Kompagnie who were not also associated with a plantation) was distributed across the following categories: 12 percent enslaved children (N = 90), 40 percent enslaved adults (N = 284), 23 percent free children (N = 163), and 25 percent free adults (N = 175). Only a decade and a half after the colony’s founding, the servinger population was reduced to 2 percent (N = 13). This contrasts sharply with the American colonies where, during the same period, only one quarter of “bond-laborers” were African- Americans (Allen 1998:par 37). The 1688 Land Lister also reveals that 47 percent (N = 162) of the St. Thomas free population was born in the West Indies; of those free persons, 64 children, split evenly between males and females, were born on St. Thomas. Of the 161 adult citizens whose nationality is recorded, 45 percent were Dutch,5 21 percent were British, 13 percent were Danish, and 12 percent were French. The remainder, each representing less than 3 percent of the adult free population, were from Belgium, Germany, Swe- den, and Brazil. Even if the Danes and Brandenburgers described above are excluded, these figures attest to the predominance of speakers of Ger- manic languages in the Euro-Caribbean community. On the basis of the population listings in the 1691 Land Lister, we can identify nearly one-third of the colony’s Euro-Caribbean population as emigrating from Dutch islands. Goodman (1988) interprets this as evidence

5 The 1686 Land Lister indicates four males were from Zeeland; eight males and six females are identified as from Holland. 58 chapter three

Table 4. Enslaved persons owned by émigré households from St. Eustatius6 Household Earliest Year Persons Owned Persons Owned Listed at First Listing in 1691 Capt. Daniel Moog 1680 3 17 Frans Martins 1680 6 5 Anthony De Konig 1686 0 2 Jan De Windt 1686 18 37 Thomas Rhem 1686 1 3 Gillin Berill 1686 3 3 Capt. Delicat 1686 7 18 Pieter LeRon 1686 2 11 Maria Borel 1686 12 13 Augustus Koonig 1686 0 2 Annual Totals 1680: 9 1686: 42 1691: 111 that Virgin Islands Dutch Creole did not originate on St. Thomas. Rather, he surmises a Dutch creole formed elsewhere was brought to St. Thomas by creole-speakers owned by the émigrés. Detailed examination of population data from earlier Land Lister do not support Goodman’s assumption (Sabino 1990). Rather the émigré population increased with the French capture of Dutch St. Eustatius in 1689. Going back further reveals that only 28 of the 101 plantations on St. Thomas had existed for eight years or more (Westergård 1917). There is also evidence that slaveholding by the émigrés increased over time. Table 4, based on data from the Land Lister, illustrates the growth of slaveholding among the St. Thomas émigré population from St. Eustatius. Place of origin for free and indentured persons is indicated in the Land Lister for 1680 and 1686 but not in the Land Lister for 1691. Thus, the number of slaveholding households emigrating from St. Eustatius prior to that year is estimated by matching household names. In order to be as inclusive as possible, the estimate counts all households containing at least one person identified as originating in St. Eustatius even if the individual was an indentured servant, guest, or child and thus not likely to have owned another human being.

6 Sabino 1990 included Simon La Mar, who is first listed as a landowner in 1686, in the calculation of persons owned by émigrés from St. Eustatius. Horlacher and D. Knight (1998, n 116, citing deJongh and Gjessing 1982) identify La Mar as a mason purchased by the first St. Thomas governor (1672–1678) to work on the colony’s fort. He was freed for the excellent quality of his work. Thus La Mar and the person he owned in 1691 are omitted from Table 4. a history and demography of the danish west indies 59

As the table shows, not all of the émigré households contained persons who were enslaved when first listed. Additionally even if all of the enslaved persons associated with these households were Dutch-creole speakers, they comprised only 14 percent of the St. Thomas Afro-Caribbean population in 1688. The remaining 86 percent of the Afro-Caribbean population was composed of groups of people who shared transatlantic crossings and perhaps capture and confinement in Africa—associations that formed the basis of kinship groups and social networks. Finally, it is likely that some of the additional people who are listed in 1691 were purchased on St. Thomas. Thus from the perspective of individual households, the Land Lister offer little support for Goodman’s hypothesis.

3.2 Population Stability and the Emergence of Negerhollands

The demographics of the colony suggest, as the majority of researchers hold, that Negerhollands emerged in situ. As in Jamaica, during the initial period of settlement (Cassidy and Le Page 2002), the ratio of Afro- Caribbean to Euro-Caribbean persons on St. Thomas was low: about 1:1 between 1673 and 1688. All things being equal, this ratio is one that would have facilitated Africans learning the languages of those who held them in bondage. However, as the discussions in chapters 1 and 2 indicate, things were far from equal! The life of those who were enslaved was “particularly harsh in the first several decades of the colony” (Carstens 1997:xli), resulting in resistance that unified the Afro-Caribbean community. Moreover, as Sabino (1993a) points out, a methodology that quantifies blacks and whites reflects an assumption that all speakers of African languages had equal access to all speakers of European languages. This assumption does not hold for the Danish colony, where there were three types of living arrangements. Because they had little contact with the Afro-Caribbean community, residents in Euro-Caribbean-only households had little effect on the creation of Negerhollands. Africans held by the Vestindisk-guineisk Kompagnie or the Brandenburg African Company had the poorest living conditions, the least freedom of movement, the fewest opportunities for language learning, the shortest life expectancies, and the least contact with Europeans. Due to their circumstances, they also had little effect on the emergence of Negerhollands. Rather, it was speakers of African languages associated with individual Euro-Caribbean households whose “advantages and opportunities” (F. Knight 1981:67, Berlin and Morgan 1993) best posi- tioned to them to contribute to creole genesis. 60 chapter three

Table 5. Household types on St. Thomas between 1680 and 1692 (from Sabino 1990)7 Household Type Percent of Population by Year 1680 1686 1691 1692 Euro-Caribbean only 29 14 15 5 Afro-Caribbean only 6 22 24 1 Euro-Caribbean in mixed households 18 30 29 33 Afro-Caribbean in mixed households 47 34 33 60 Total mixed 65 64 62 93 Total population 331 595 944 884

Data between 1680 and 1692 reveal that the number of mixed households increases until 1691 and then decreases slightly. Only four mixed households appear on the 1680 Land Lister that also appear on subsequent tax rolls.8 Between 1686 and 1688 there were 16 mixed households; between 1688 and 1691 there were 23; between 1691 and 1692 there were 20. Table 5 shows the percent of the colony’s population in each household type between 1680 and 1692. The number of persons living in Euro- Caribbean-only households decreases over this time period from 29 percent in 1680 to 5 percent in 1692. There is also a dramatic increase in 1686 and a similarly dramatic decrease in 1692 of enslaved person who lived apart from speakers of European languages. The 1686 Land Lister shows 104 persons (17 percent of the total population) were owned by the Vestindisk-guineisk Kompagnie. In 1691, George Thormohlen took possession of St. Thomas, the surrounding islands, and the Vestindisk-guineisk Kompagnie’s property (Westergård 1917). He likely sold persons formerly owned by the Vestindisk-guineisk Kompagnie to raise sorely needed rev- enue. The increase in the number of Afro-Caribbean people associated with mixed households in 1692 suggests some of these persons were relo- cated to St. Thomas plantations.

7 1688 is excluded because persons held by the Vestindisk-guineisk Kompagnie were not counted. 8 Households in the Land Lister appear and disappear with no information about what happened to the residents. Because, as indicated in n 4, enslaved persons were not listed by name, population stability for this group is difficult to gauge. Based on the assumption that the Afro-Caribbean population was most stable in Euro-Caribbean households that were themselves stable, the data presented here include only households that once they appear are listed in subsequent Land Lister through 1692. a history and demography of the danish west indies 61

140

120 Euro-Caribbean 100 Adults Euro-Caribbean 80 Children 60 Afro-Caribbean Adults 40 Afro-Caribbean Children 20

0 1680 1686 1688 1691 Figure 5. Population in mixed St. Thomas households 1680–1691

Figure 5 shows adults and children (persons 18 years old and younger) in the mixed households represented in Table 5. In 1680, slightly less than 11 percent of the colony’s population were Afro-Caribbean children; only 2 percent of the colony’s Afro-Caribbean children lived in mixed households. The number of both adults and children increased over time. The increase of Afro-Caribbean children was less than half as rapid as that of Euro-Caribbean children. In 1691, when 39 percent of the colony’s Afro- Caribbean population were children (Westergård 1917), children comprised about a quarter of the Afro-Caribbean population living in mixed households. Demographic change in the Afro-Caribbean population is illustrated in Table 6, which shows the number of enslaved persons added to the mixed households, whether by birth or purchase. The second category is the number of persons who disappeared from these households, whether by death, sale, or escape. The third category is the number of persons unchanged in the households, either because there was no change or because s/he was replaced with another person of the same age and sex. Although Stolz and Stein (1986) estimate that 25 percent of the total enslaved population in the Danish West Indies died annually, in the mixed households where the creole is most likely to have emerged, survival rates were considerably higher. Table 6 illustrates that although the number of losses increased over time, the percentage of losses per year remains well below 25 percent. 62 chapter three

Table 6. Number of enslaved persons in 24 mixed households from 1680 to 1691 Enslaved 1680–1686 1686–1688 1688–1691 Persons Added Lost Same Added Lost Same Added Lost Same Adult males 6 3 8 22 4 36 12 14 69 Adult females 3 2 3 17 2 16 0 1 40 Children 4 1 2 23 2 12 8 10 36 Total 13 6 13 62 8 64 20 25 145 Annual loss 7 percent 4 percent 4 percent

By the 1690s, the basic infrastructure of the colony was established, the population was growing with population stability for adult males preceding stability for adult females which, in turn, preceded stability for children. This is consistent with conditions in the seventeenth century with respect to death during childbirth and infant mortality. Examination of named individuals in the mixed households reveals stability for the Euro- Caribbean population by 1688. The number of enslaved persons remaining in mixed households also increases dramatically between 1680 and 1688. Bearing in mind that stable, two-parent households were more common in plantation societies than has been generally acknowledged (Mullin 1992, Sanders 1985 and the references therein), a reasonable assumption is that a portion of the 35 children who were added to the mixed households between 1680 and 1691 were born into Afro-Caribbean families. Since mortality tended to be lower among the locally born who survived the first years of life, there is some evidence that the Afro-Caribbean population in mixed households achieved what Mintz and Price (1992:67) identify as “sufficient stability to permit the socialization of offspring within that same group.” Table 7 summarizes the colony’s development between 1688, when the population in mixed households achieved stability, and 1715, just before St. John was settled. Between 1688 and 1691, the number of plantations on St. Thomas increased by 12 percent. The ratio of Afro-Caribbean to Euro-Caribbean residents increased slightly from 1:1 to 1.4:1. Between 1691 and 1715, the number of St. Thomas plantations increased by more than 40 percent, and the ratio of Afro-Caribbean to Euro-Caribbean residents increased substantially: from 1.4:1 to 5.6:1. This growth is parallel to what Cassidy and Le Page (2002) describe for Jamaica: by the end of the seventeenth century, the Jamaican population ratio was approximately 4:1. a history and demography of the danish west indies 63

Table 7. Growth of the St. Thomas colony (data are from *Sabino 1990, **Hor- lacher and D. Knight 1998, ***Westergård 1917, Appendix H, and ***Weindl 2008) 1680* 1688** 1691** 1697**** 1715*** Euro-Caribbean Men 155 Euro-Caribbean Women 145 Total Euro-Caribbean Adults 188 212 300 Euro-Caribbean children 163 177 247 Total Euro-Caribbean 156 351 389 547 Population Afro-Caribbean Men 1157 Afro-Caribbean women 613 Total Afro-Caribbean adults 140 284 361 1770 Afro-Caribbean children 35 90 194 1113 Total Afro-Caribbean 175 374 555 1500 3042 Population Total Population 725 944 3589 Mixed Plantations 17 34 Cotton Plantation 81 70 Sugar Plantations 3 40 Total Plantations 50 90 101 144

As Table 7 indicates, sugar was still a minority crop at the time the Afro- Caribbean population began to stabilize. This is key, because although sugar production was “literally killing” (10), resulting in the high death rate assumed by Stolz and Stein (1986), the death rates associated with cotton were “twice sometimes three times” lower than those associated with sugar (21). The death rates associated with tobacco were lower still (Berlin and Morgan 1993). Additionally, according to C. Taylor (1888:8–9), in the 1690s, planters were moving from the countryside to Taphus9 for protection both from foreign invasion and from “internal troubles” which were feared because there were no “white managers” on the plantations to the east of the town. Den Besten and van der Voort (1999:387, n 3) characterize the scenario proposed in Sabino 1990 and expanded here as “rather radical.” However, the intersection of Taylor’s observation with the Land Lister evidence and

9 From taphaus ‘beer hall’, which is retained as /tap(h)us/ ‘town’ in Negerhollands. Taphus was renamed Charlotte Amalie after a Danish queen in 1691 (Cahoon 2000–2007). 64 chapter three the survival rates associated with cotton and tobacco identify 1690s as the period during which Afro-Caribbean networks became increasingly dense and were extended beyond individual plantations. As people, who did not share a common language, negotiated solutions to communication challenges, Negerhollands was vernacularized. Kea (1996) writes that the first maroon community was established about 1700.10 Since ethnically-based resistence is not mentioned in the colony’s history until the 1733 Amina rebellion on St. John and since St. Thomas is small in area, this suggests the Afro-Caribbean communication matrix was sufficiently developed by this time that it could be deployed defensively to hold the Euro-Caribbean population at a distance. Den Besten et al. (1996) see the colony’s language emerging over six decades. The evidence presented here, consistent with Bruyn and Veen- stra 1993, de Klein 2007, Sabino 1990, and Sprauve 1990, suggests the vernacularization occurred much earlier. This scenario is similar to estimates by Baker (1990) for the stabilization of Mauritian and with the time frames established by Bruyn (1995) and N. Smith (1987, cited in Arends 1996) for creole genesis in Surinam. It is also consistent with the “short period of rapid focusing during which the various Caribbean creoles developed their distinctive characteristics” suggested by Le Page (1977:23) and parallels estimates by Hancock (1988) and Parkvall (2000) of language genesis in the Caribbean.

3.3 What Languages Did the Creators of Negerhollands Speak?

The historical and demographic information discussed in the previous section establishes a time frame for the emergence of Negerhollands. This facilitates identification of the ships that transported Africans to the Dan- ish West Indies, which in turn provides some insight into the languages spoken by the Africans who rebuilt their lives in St. Thomas. A number of sources (Westergård 1917, Nørregård 1966, Gøbel 1983, Eltis et al. 1999, Voyages Database 2009) provide information on the more than 18,000 people who are documented to have been landed in St. Thomas between 1673 and 1700, most of whom did not remain in the colony. This material is consolidated in Table 8 below. The evidence indicates that, as

10 Carstens (1994:12) mentions a man who successfully evaded capture for more than 30 years, but deforestation ultimately limited opportunities for maroonage on St. Thomas (N. Hall 1992). a history and demography of the danish west indies 65

Table 8. Africans arriving in St. Thomas between 1673 and 168811 Ship Registry/Name Year of Arrival Number of Africans Landed Danish (63%) Cornelia 1673 103 Cornelia 1674 (103) Wapen 1687 80 Name unknown 1688 200 Total 486 Portuguese (1%) Name unknown 1675 10 Dutch (2%) Name unknown 1678 16 British (34%) Name unknown 1680 239 Trompeuse 1683 22 Total 261 elsewhere in the Caribbean, (New) Kwa languages predominated among the African peoples landed on St. Thomas during the last quarter of the seventeenth century. Danish ships transported only 1 percent (Lovejoy 2000) or fewer (Black- burn 1997, Rawley and Behrendt 2005) of the Africans who were landed in the New World and about 12 percent of the 100,000 persons Tyson and Highfield (1994:xi) estimate arrived in the Danish colony. However, as Table 8 shows, Danish ships transported an estimated 63 percent of Africans to the colony between 1673 and 1688. The Brandenburg African company received its first human cargo in 1688 just as the St. Thomas Afro-Caribbean community was beginning to emerge. However, because their St. Thomas factory was established to provide acclimated Africans to the Spanish Crown, most of the more than 18,000 people transshipped by the Brandenburgers in the seventeenth century were sold “outside St. Thomas” (Weindl 2008:257). Thus, the Danish slaving operations are those most likely to have impacted the development of Negerhollands. The transshipment of Africans to St. Thomas began during a period of war and population movement in West Africa (Ward 1966, Wilks 1957) that transformed “self-sufficient territorial units, linked to one another

11 The persons transported on second voyage of the Cornelia is estimated to be the same as on the first. 66 chapter three by ethnic and linguistic ties” (A. Klein 1969:88) into “belligerent” political entities (Lovejoy 2000:69). Lovejoy identifies the Bight of Benin as a primary “source of slaves in the 1670s” (49). He also indicates that the Gold Coast first became an important source of persons transshipped to the New World around this time. Gueye (1978) and P. Morgan (1997:131–132) describe the victims of the slave trade as resident in “a range of fairly proximate places.” Thornton (1992:194) describes those who departed from individual ports as representing “cultural zone[s] . . . united by commerce.” The Ga, who controlled a territory that stretched about 10 miles along the Gold Coast, were the Danes’ first African trade partners. With northern expansion, the Ga encountered the Akwamu, an Akan-speaking group, who were expanding to the south (Ward 1966). A war lasting two decades broke out between the Ga and Akwamu (Kropp Dakubu 1997). Because of this war, when the Danes began transporting Africans to the Caribbean, the Ga were in a position to sell Akan-speaking prisoners and peoples from the interior whose languages are not known to us. By 1679, Akwamu dominated both the Akan-speaking and western Gbe-speaking areas (Wilks 1957). In 1681, with the conquest of the Ga, Akwamu was in a position to sell Akan, Ga, and Ewe-speaking prisoners (Ward 1966, Sensbach 2005). In 1682, after the interruption of trade that accompanied the loss of their fort in 1680,12 Danish alliance shifted to Akwamu who by 1702 dominated 250 miles of the coast from Agona in the west to Whydah in the East (Wilks 1957). At the height of their power, in 1710, Akwamu extended their territory northward to Kwahu and Krepi. The Danes continued to trade with Akwamu until the early 1730s (Ward 1966, Sensbach 2005). Although no area of the West African coast provided “more than about 30 percent “ of the peoples who were disembarked in the Danish colony (P. Morgan 1997:125), substantial “ethnic diversification” did not occur until the latter part of the eighteenth century when the locus of the slave trade shifted to Central Africa (Gueye 1978, N. Hall 1992:71, Tyson and Highfield 1994:xvi, citing Holloway 1990). Rather linguistic heterogeneity was limited to some degree by the consignment of whole cargos to the Danes (Paiewonsky 1989). Additionally, Kropp Dakubu (1997) provides evidence that the language spoken by the Ga emerged as a learner

12 Akwamu again captured Fort Christiansborg in 1693 and occupied it for a year. The Dutch helped to broker Dane’s repurchase of the fort. In 1703, they signed a trade agreement with the Dutch, that among other provisions, allowed them to trade at Fort Crève- coeur (Wilks 1957). a history and demography of the danish west indies 67

variety of Dangme as a result of contact with Gbe. Additionally both Fante (Sensbach 2005) and Twi, two Akan varieties, functioned as lingua francas in Ga territory (Protten 1764, mentioned in Sensbach 2005; Goodman 1987, citing Schuchardt 1914 in Markey and Roberge 1979). Thus as Sabino (1988, 1990) suggested, Akan, Ewe, a western variety of Gbe, and Ga were the languages most likely to have been spoken by the Africans who created Negerhollands.13 Chapters 7, 8, and 9 provide additional evidence for influence from these three (New) Kwa languages. Parkvall’s (2000) analysis of phonological features also reveals both Akan and Gbe features in Negerhollands. Despite not finding “clear traces” of Akan influence in the data they analyze, den Besten et al. (1996:7) hold that most of those landed in the Danish West Indies during the time Virgin Islands Dutch Creole was formed spoke Twi.

3.4 Prosperity and the Emergence of Hoch Kreol

Having established when Negerhollands is most likely to have emerged and who is most likely to have created it. We now turn to the question of Hoch Kreol. Table 7 (above) reflects the prosperity which provided the impetus for the emergence of colonial identity in the Euro-Caribbean population: It was not long after 1700 that the Danish colony experienced enrichment as a result of its participation in Denmark’s “global micro network colonies and trade relations” Highfield 2009:188) and Danish neutrality during the War of Spanish Succession (1701–1714). In 1701, LaBat describes St. Thomas as “a market of consequence” (quoted in C. Taylor 1888:10, no reference given). Goslinga (1985) indicates that by 1705 St. Thomas was competing with St. Eustatius as a slave entrepôt. The decline of Curaçao as a slave depot in 1713 (Goodman 1987) and the establishment of St. Thomas as a free port in 1724 further added to the Danish colony’s wealth. Plantation agriculture on St. Thomas peaked in 1725; thereafter trade dominated. As a result, that island saw a 13 percent decline in the number of plantations on St. Thomas. This decline continued for several decades with a concomitant decrease in both the Euro-Caribbean and Afro-Caribbean populations.

13 Bruyn and Veenstra (1993) and den Besten et al. (1996) mistakenly interpret Sabino (1988a) as proposing that only Ewe speakers were involved in the creation of Negerhollands. 68 chapter three

Prosperity initially increased the agricultural workforce. It also resulted in the creation of large domestic staffs, and personal attendants became common among the wealthy (Carstens 1997) providing substantial access to Negerhollands speakers. The association of wealth with colonial identity paired with substantial early input from speakers of Negerhollands created the conditions under which Hoch Kreol emerged. Joachim Melchoir Magens, author of both a prescriptive Hoch Kreol grammar and a Virgin Islands Dutch Creole translation of the New Testament, participated in this cultural shift: he was born into one of the colony’s most prominent families in 1715.

3.5 Territorial Expansion

Intense agricultural production eventually depleted the thin St. Thomas soil, and agricultural activity shifted to St. John, where plantations were generally smaller. The Danes first claimed St. John in 1684, but the British on nearby Tortola prevented their settlement until declining agricultural productivity on St. Thomas forced the issue. St. John was settled “entirely from St. Thomas” (Westergård 1917:130) by planters, soldiers, and slaves in the spring of 1718 (Carstens 1997). N. Hall (1992:11) indicates that three years later, 64 percent of the plantations were owned by “Dutchmen.” Although initially there was a legal requirement of at least “one white man on each plantation” (Westergård 1917:130), St. John plantations were operated, not by owners as they had been on St. Thomas, but by (Euro- Caribbean) overseers or (Afro-Caribbean) bombas. By 1733 the population of St. John had grown to 1,295, of whom 84 percent were enslaved (N. Hall 1992:5, Table 1.1). The spread of a conservative variety of Negerhollands to St. John, largely by experienced, Negerhollands-speaking agricultural workers, provides additional evidence that the Afro-Caribbean community’s language was well established on St. Thomas by the early eighteenth century (Sabino 1990, Stolz and Stein 1986) but that Germanicized variants were not yet in widespread use. Formal restrictions on the activities of those who were enslaved from the earliest decades reveal the social cost of colonial expansion. During the devastating drought of 1725–1726, theft and maroonage earned grim penalties on both islands, revealing the Euro-Caribbean community’s fear and distrust of those they held in bondage. An “inhumanly harsh slave code” was adopted in October of 1733 (Low and Valls 1985:8). A group of Amina, who planned to take over St. John’s agricultural economy (Kea a history and demography of the danish west indies 69

1996) organized a revolt in November 1733. The rebel community formed during the revolt was brutally destroyed with St. John’s recapture in May of 1734. After the revolt, the colony’s entire Afro-Caribbean community was subject to increased restrictions, and offenses, imagined or real, were punished severely. St. Croix was purchased from the French in 1733. That island’s flat, fertile terrain and the St. John rebellion occasioned a second population shift, in which a number of planters moved their holdings to St. Croix. Although agriculture had declined on St. Thomas, on St. John plantation society was “in full swing” during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries (Olwig 1985:1, Gjessing and McClean 1987). In the 1750s, the enslaved population on St. Thomas, which had become a commercial center, and St. John increased “scarcely at all” (Green-Pedersen 1981:234; see also Table 9 (below). However, more than 50,000 Africans arrived on St. Croix between 1733 and 1802, most during the American Revolution (Rawley and Behrendt 2005). The proportion of enslaved persons in the colony reached an all-time high of 88 percent in 1789. The number of enslaved persons peaked nearly two decades later, in 1803, with three-quarters of that population residing on St. Croix (Boyer 2010) at a time when, according to Tyson and Highfield (1994:xi), “approximately half ” of the enslaved population was locally born. Although planned as a plantation colony “that would meet the demands of Scandinavia and the Baltic states, . . . by the mid-1700s,” St. Thomas had become one of the most prosperous free ports in the Caribbean (Gjessing and McClean 1987:82, 83). As the colony’s commercial interests developed, a non-agricultural Afro-Caribbean population emerged in the towns on St. Thomas and St. Croix. These individuals comprised about a quarter of the enslaved population (Tyson and Highfield 1994:xii). By the late 1750s, the number of enslaved persons living in St. Croix’s towns surpassed that of its plantations (N. Hall 1992). By 1780 this was also the case on St. Thomas (Green-Pedersen 1981, N. Hall 1992). A law abolishing the Danish trade in enslaved Africans as of 1802 was passed in 1792. Although the number of agricultural workers is reported “to have been relatively good toward the end of the eighteenth century” (Green-Pedersen 1981:232, see also N. Hall 1992), the delay was intended to give planters an opportunity to “stock up” (Olwig 1985:28). Olwig reports that during this period, the number of those who were enslaved on St. John increased by 40 percent. By 1806, 37 percent of those who were enslaved on St. John were African-born. While this influx of speakers of African 70 chapter three languages might be seen as prompting the Africanizing of Negerhollands, this outcome is unlikely since Africans constituted a majority on only three of seventeen St. John plantations: Munsberry 59 percent (N = 131), Annaberg 54 percent (N = 147) and L’Esperance 52 percent (N = 81). Far more important is the above-mentioned increase in ethnic diversity among those who transshipped to the Danish colony beginning in the mid-eighteenth century (Gueye 1978, N. Hall 1992). This is because, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, Negerhollands had been used by the Afro-Caribbean community to manage threats to its well-being for some two hundred years. The linguistic and cultural heterogeneity of newly arrived Africans decreased their collective influence on the colony’s cultural systems. Their collective influence was also relatively weak because, until new arrivals were integrated into existing kinship networks, they were socially isolated. But perhaps the most important factor limiting the influence of Africans arriving in the colony at the beginning of the nineteenth century was language shift. As discussed in Section 3.7 below, by this time the shift from Virgin Islands Dutch Creole to Virgin Islands English Creole was under way on St. Thomas.

3.6 The Free Afro-Caribbean Population

The demography and material resources of free Afro-Caribbean persons and groups are also relevant to the colony’s language history because they had access to social and material resources that those who were enslaved lacked. Gjessing and McClean (1987:35) indicate that “three free black planters” were among those persons captured by French raiders that same year. They do not indicate whether negotiations for the return of these people to the colony were successful; however, Horlacher and D. Knight (1998, n 109) identify “at least” two households headed by free(d) persons of African heritage in 1688: Balter d’Kruter and Simon La Mar. N. Hall (1992:147) speculates that one reason the draconian 1733 code did not distinguish rights of the free and enslaved members of the Afro- Caribbean community was that the former were few in number. By the 1740s, 118 free members (4 percent) of the St. Thomas Afro-Caribbean community were living in Charlotte Amalie, “quarantined by law” to a St. Thomas neighborhood called Free Guts (Sensbach 2005). By 1755, this population had grown to 138 persons. A century and a quarter after the arrival of the first cohort of Africans, this number represents more than a third of the free population of Charlotte Amalie. N. Hall calculates an a history and demography of the danish west indies 71

Table 9. Population of the Danish West Indies 1755–1815 (from N. Hall 1992, Table 1.1, p. 5) St. Thomas St. John St. Croix Year 1755 1789 1815 1755 1789 1815 1755 1789 1815 Slaves 3,949 4,614 4,393 2,031 2,200 2.306 8,897 22,488 24,330 Freedmen/whites – – – 213 – – 1,303 – Freedmen 138 160 2,284 – 16 271 – 953 2,480 Whites 325 492 2,122 – 167 157 – 1,952 1,840

average of only five manumissions per year between 1760 and 1799. By 1815, immigration, natural increase, and manumission had nearly tripled the size of this group, and slightly more than half the total St. Thomas population was Afro-Caribbean. (See Table 9.) On St. John, the free Afro- Caribbean population was never large. On St. Croix, although this group surpassed that of St. Thomas in 1815, it remained proportionately small, as the table shows. It was not until 1834 that a royal decree “expressly permitted” manumission (Boyer 2010:55). The early slow growth of the free portion of the Afro-Caribbean community reflected anxiety on the part of the colonial administration. N. Hall (1992) indicates manumission of women was particularly discouraged because their children would also be free. However, he also comments that free, independent women, regardless of ethnicity, were culturally troubling.

3.7 The Shift to English and Virgin Islands English Creole

The role of English and English creole influence on Negerhollands is a complicated one. Sprauve (e.g., 1981, 1997:56) indicates the English creole that emerged on St. Thomas/St. John reveals a greater relationship to Neg- erhollands while on St. Croix, there is a “clear cut affinity to [other] West Indian English creoles”. Additionally, varieties of English played a part in the Danish colony from the earliest years: English-dominant, slaveholding households were established during the first decades of colonization. The early Land Lister are written in Danish and Dutch. Liebst (1996:121) indicates that proclamations before 1747 were “mostly” in Dutch with “some” in Danish. After this date, most were in Danish, “one” was in Dutch, and a “few” were in English. In 1756, the “code-book was translated into Eng- lish.” Magens’s (Hale n.d.:n.p.) reference to an earlier “Dutch-controlled era” also reveals that by the 1760s Dutch was waning and Oldendorp (1777, 72 chapter three trans. in Reinecke 1937:398), also writing in the late 1760s, reports that on St. Thomas and on the eastern part of St. Croix Virgin Islands English was necessary for communication with members of the Afro-Caribbean community living in the colony’s towns.14 By the time the free Afro-Carib- bean population surpassed the Euro-Caribbean population in 1815, the St. Thomas Tidende was published exclusively in English, and discussions of equality printed in English were circulating in the Danish West Indies (N. Hall 1992, den Besten et al. 1996). As Virgin Islands Dutch Creole came to be associated with rurality and enslavement, English and English Creole were associated with modernity, economic opportunity, and freedom. Olwig (1985) documents English testimony from an enslaved witness in 1839 on St. John, where Negerhollands remained in use the longest. Eng- lish was sufficiently advanced by 1845 that it was selected as the language of abuse by an enslaved person insulting an overseer on that same island (Olwig 1985).15 Further evidence for the advances made by English in the St. Thomas/St. John Afro-Caribbean community is provided by Sprauve (1990), who points to the bilingualism of de Jong’s (1926) consultants, most of whom were born in the 1840s and 1850s. Pontoppidan (1881) documents decreased Negerhollands monolingualism on St. Thomas in the late 1870s that reflects the economic opportunities associated with English and Virgin Islands English Creole. A letter written by a distant relative of Magens with the help of a woman from an old creole family (Schuchardt 1914) confirms Pontoppidian’s observations. However, Pontoppidan indicates that the oldest Negerhollands/Virgin Islands English Creole bilinguals spoke English creole with difficulty on St. John. Cavling, a Danish journalist (reprinted in Low and Valls, 1985:40), writing around the same time, reports that “[m]ost St. Johnians speak Calypso English, but to each other they speak Kreol. . . .” Guirty (1989:6) reports that when growing up on St. Thomas in the 1920s, “there was a fair number of men and women who spoke Dutch creole. . . .” Gilbert Sprauve (p.c., 5/15/2010) and Jose Sabino (on a number of occasions in the 1970s and 1980s) describe adults using Negerhollands to conceal meaning from children in the 1930s and 1940s. Reinecke (1937:408) reports a vocabulary and two texts collected by Nelson on St. Thomas in 1936. Both Graves and

14 Oldendorp’s observation and the aggressive use of Dutch in religious activity discussed in the next chapter provide counter evidence to Bruyn and Veenstra’s (1993) suggestion that Dutch became unavailable after creole genesis. 15 This example is especially revealing since cursing is one of the inner uses of language that Markey (1968) identifies as useful for determining a speaker’s dominant language. a history and demography of the danish west indies 73

Sprauve were able to interview Negerhollands/Virgin Islands English Cre- ole bilinguals in the 1970s. The last native Negerhollands/Virgin Islands English Creole bilingual speaker, who also generously shared her knowledge of the Negerhollands with me, died in August of 1987. Both English and English creole influenced language development on St. Croix since both accompanied the introduction of “large-scale, slave- based sugar culture” (N. Hall 1992:13). Between 1742 and 1804, “40 percent” of the largest plantations on St. Croix were owned by persons of British origin (N. Hall 1992:15, citing Christensen 1978). By the 1750s, planters and enslaved agricultural workers from the British colonies outnumbered the Danes and the Dutch (Reinecke 1937). The Royal Danish American Gazette, which was “essentially English in tone” (N. Hall 1992:15), began publication in 1770. The use of English on St. Croix was so widely known that in 1793 Olaudah Equiano’s British detractors claimed, on the basis of his excellent English, that “he had been born in the Danish West Indies” (Sabino and Hall 1999:6). The following brief exchange quoted by West (1791, cited in N. Hall 1992:156) illustrates the use of English by members of the St. Croix free Afro-Caribbean population. It contains do-support* characteristic of standardized English and a creole feature often discussed as zero copula**:

(3) how *do you do, sir? I hope you **∅ well, Mam.

Foreign relations was another factor in the spread of English. Before its infrastructure was fully established, the Danish colony established trade relations with the nearby British colonies (Dookhan 1994). By 1716, the Danish West Indies had trade relations with North America, and prominent citizens like Carstens and Magens traveled freely between the Dan- ish West Indies and Britain’s Atlantic colonies. In fact, Magens’s second and third wives were born in the American colonies, and Magens himself lived in New York between about 1750 and 1760 (Dyhr 2001, Carstens 1997, Larsen 1950). During these same decades, northern trading companies had family members working in the West Indies. One such company was, according to Lewisohn (1975:3), “the first employer of Alexander Ham- ilton.” In the following decade, neutral Danish trading companies prospered as a result of the war between Britain and her colonies (Gøbel 1989). Cordial relations with the Americans continued after the war. Van Dig- gelen (1978) reports English-speaking merchants settled in St. Thomas in 1781 “[a]fter the English conquered St. Eustatius.” By 1787, the commerce 74 chapter three of St. Thomas was dominated by the Americans (Paiewonsky 1989). By 1790, Americans were selling Africans from the Gold and Windward coasts on St. Croix (Rawley and Behrendt 2005), and more than 90 percent of the slave ships landed in the Danish West Indies after 1792 are identified as registered in English-speaking countries (Eltis et al. 1999, Voyages Data- base 2009). At the turn of the nineteenth century, the St. Thomas Burger Council was “dominated by English-speaking provision merchants,” and the burger militia was composed “almost exclusively of Englishmen or English-Sympathizers” (N. Hall 1992:26, citing a governor’s report). Holm (1988:2.327) reports “a great influx” of English-speaking foreigners into St. Thomas at the end of the century. As Hesseling (1905, reported in Graves 1977) recognized, the British occupation of the Danish West Indies (“at the height of the British abolition movement” [p.c., Paula Backscheider 9/3/2010]) between 1802 and 1805 and again between 1807 and 1815 gave increased impetus to a language shift (Sprauve 1981). Additionally, British colonial policy encouraged development of a free middle class as a buffer between the plantation elite and those they enslaved (Allen 1998:par 86). As the century progressed, varieties of English were increasingly used in the public and private spheres, and in time English became the language of “all business transactions” (Reinecke 1937:399, citing Bosch 1829–1836:2.385, quoted by Hesseling 1905:27). According to Graves (1977), an evangelical variety of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole first saw publication in the 1760s. The Moravian and Lutheran churches continued to provide such institutional support for Virgin Islands Dutch Creole into the nineteenth century even as they participated in the shift to English. The Moravians began to send missionaries trained in the United States, not Germany, to its churches in the Danish colony (Boyer 2010). The last Virgin Islands Dutch Creole book was published in 1827 (Pontoppidan 1887), the same year in which the Dutch Reform minister was “fetched from New York” (Reinecke 1937:399). Virgin Islands Dutch Creole services were discontinued by the Lutheran Church in the 1830s when the younger generation had to be taught the evangelical variety of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole as a foreign language (Pontoppidan 1881, 1887). Slavery was abolished in the British West Indies in 1838 (De Booy and Faris 1979). The mile of water that separated Danish St. John from British Tortola had always tempted escape; after 1838, escapes increased (N. Hall 1992). By this time, language shift was so far advanced that the colony’s government argued English could be used as the language of instruction and doing so would “help to win parents’ support for the proposal” (199). a history and demography of the danish west indies 75

By 1848, a Danish citizen complained that the colony’s “English tone and spirit . . . was incompatible with their self-sustaining existence as Danish colonies” (18). Throughout the nineteenth century, as language shift progressed, the Danish West Indies continued to be characterized by multilingualism. According to Sprauve (1981), the colony’s elite spoke English, Dutch, French, Danish, and German. The enslaved and working-class members of the Afro-Caribbean community spoke Virgin Islands Dutch Creole and Virgin Islands English Creole. Sprauve also points to the presence of Afri- can languages even after the importation of Africans was ended. The Moravians emancipated those they enslaved in 1844 (Boyer, 2010, De Booy and Faris 1979). Promising full emancipation in 1859, King Chris- tian VIII declared that beginning in 1847 children born to enslaved parents would be free. However, when 8,000 people gathered in St. Croix in 1848 to demand abolition, slavery in the Danish West Indies was ended by gubernatorial fiat. Although emancipation exacerbated economic decline on St. Croix and St. John, trade on St. Thomas continued. In fact, in 1864, St. Thomas was the second largest city in Denmark (p.c., Mike Kuich 5/5/2009). In 1867, the island was devastated by a hurricane, earthquake, and a tidal wave that destroyed the infrastructure of the St. Thomas port. With the decline of agriculture and the destruction of the St. Thomas port, the Danish West Indies became an unsupportable drain on the resources of the Danish Crown. Negotiations to sell the islands to the United States that had begun in 1865 were completed in 1917. The linguistic scenario that emerges from the detailed examination of the Danish colony’s history is summarized in the time line below:

1672 Danes colonize St. Thomas. Germanic languages are spoken. 1673 First ship carrying enslaved Africans arrives. Germanic and (New) Kwa languages are spoken on St. Thomas. Danish and Dutch are the languages of colonial administration. Africans begin to learn the Germanic languages of their captors. 1674–1690 Negerhollands begins to emerge as the lingua franca of the Afro-Caribbean community in which (New) Kwa languages are also spoken. 1700–1715 t he War of Spanish Succession enriches St. Thomas planters and merchants. Hoch Kreol emerges in the Euro- Caribbean community. Negerhollands and Hoch Kreol are used respectively in the Afro-Caribbean and Euro-Caribbean communities. 76 chapter three

1716 Trade relations with North America established. 1718 St. John is settled from St. Thomas. 1733 The Danes acquire St. Croix. 1736 The Moravians document the existence of Carriolse. 1756 The colony’s code-book is translated into English. 1760–1770s english/English creole used especially in towns by the Afro-Caribbean community. The Moravians publish the first text in the evangelical variety of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole. Magens’s Hoch Kreol grammar is published. 1780s St. Thomas’s urban slave population surpasses that of the plantations; the commerce of St. Thomas is dominated by Americans. 1802–1805, 1807–1815 British occupation. 1815 The colony’s free Afro-Caribbean population surpasses its Euro-Caribbean population; the St. Thomas Tidende is published in English. English discussions of equality are in circulation. 1827 Last text is printed in the evangelical variety of Dutch Creole. 1830s English church services introduced; colonial government argues for English as medium of instruction in public schools. 1870s Few on St. Croix are familiar with Virgin Islands Dutch Creole. Negerhollands documented as the dominant language among the oldest generation on St. John. 1883 Schuchardt communicates with a distant relative of Magens who composes a Virgin Islands Dutch Creole letter. 1920s–1940s De Jong publishes corpus of St. Thomas/St. John Negerhollands texts. Nelson collects word lists and texts. 1970s–1980s Linguists work with last speakers of Negerhol- lands. 1987 Last native speaker of Negerhollands dies. a history and demography of the danish west indies 77

3.8 Summary

Citing a “high” birthrate, which they attribute to Sabino 1990, den Besten et al. (1996:8) posit enslaved Africans rapidly acquired a variety of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole similar to that found in eighteenth-century publications. The data in Table 7 demonstrate that the number of Afro-Caribbean children was not particularly high. At the time of population stabilization in 1688 Afro-Caribbean children comprised 12 percent of the colony’s population and, as Sabino establishes, this percent increased to 20 percent in 1691. However, examination of the percentage of enslaved children associated with Euro-Caribbean households reveals that in 1680 Afro-Caribbean children comprised only 8 percent of the population in mixed households. By 1691, enslaved children associated with mixed households represented 15 percent of the larger Afro-Caribbean population. However, even limiting the number of children to mixed households does not tell the entire story. In fact, considering population demographics in light of the prevailing intellectual climate and what is known about the relationship of sociocultural context and identity formation suggests a very different linguistic trajectory than the one proposed by den Besten et al. (1996). The picture that emerges when sociocultural context is taken into consideration is one in which, initially, residents spoke Germanic languages and a contact variety of Dutch. A year later they were joined by speakers of (New) Kwa languages. The Africans slowly expanded their linguistic repertoires to include lexical items influenced by the languages they encountered. For enslaved persons who were associated with Euro- pean-dominated households this included lexical items from European languages. As discussed in the preceding chapters, the circumstances of cultural contact engendered resistence and repression, creating the context for the genesis of Negerhollands. The accretion of European—especially Germanic—linguistic features, was most likely in mixed households. Thus, this is where Negerhollands developed. However, it was not until population stability sufficient for the formation of community was achieved in the late 1680s that the widespread leveling that characterizes vernacularization occurred in the Afro- Caribbean community. The economic prosperity of the early eighteenth century, which enriched the St. Thomas elite even as the island’s agricultural productivity declined, provided the impetus for the emergence of a colonial identity among the Euro-Caribbean population. This provided the impetus for the development of Hoch Kreol. Over time, the colony’s increased wealth also provided opportunities for privileged members of 78 chapter three the Afro-Caribbean community, particularly those living in the towns. The result was the learning of European languages and the development of language forms intermediate between Negerhollands and the languages of the Euro-Caribbean community. The continuum of phonological forms discussed in Chapter 7 reveals the extent to which such opportunities were embraced. Although English speakers lived in the colony from the earliest period, Virgin Islands English Creole seems to have first emerged on St. Croix in the 1740s, replacing Virgin Islands Dutch Creole as early as the 1760s when, according to Oldendorp, “Dutch was of only secondary importance” (2000, trans. in Arends 2004:173). Trade with the Americans in the 1770s created additional economic opportunity for English and English-creole speakers that increased during the two British occupations at the beginning of the nineteenth century. The numerical expansion and the economic empow- erment of a free Afro-Caribbean population insured the post-emancipation dominance of English and Virgin Islands English Creole. The sociocultural history of the Danish West Indies explains why, as (New) Kwa heritage-language use declined, most members of the Afro- Caribbean community participated in the genesis of Negerhollands instead of learning European languages. It also explains why, despite low population ratios, the Euro-Caribbean community failed to learn African languages, and why they created Hoch Kreol. Documentation of the colony’s language varieties begins to appear in the eighteenth century. The following chapter evaluates that documentation with an eye to further exploring the proposed scenario of language emergence and development in the Danish colony. Chapter four

Virgin Islands Dutch Creole: Documentation and Interpretation

Better bent than broke (Virgin Islands proverb)

4.0 Introduction

Increasingly scholars recognize the extent to which the patterns of dominant cultures predominate in written records while those of less privileged groups are poorly recorded. From this perspective, the earliest documentation of life in the Danish West Indies is predictably asymmetrical. The sociocultural evidence that does exist with respect to the colony’s Afro-Caribbean community is incidental, “fragmentary at best and often misleading” because it reflects the observations and conclusions of those who had only limited access to that community (Tyson and Highfield 1994:xv). Graves (1977:60) describes those who initially documented Neg- erhollands as “secondary speakers” who “tamper[ed]” with “the authentic creole.” As a result, as elsewhere in the Caribbean, such documentation can be expected to obscure “a great deal of linguistic complexity” (Alleyne 1985:15). Based on an assumption that the Danish colony’s language history can only be understood when informed by external evidence, the preceding chapters have established that Negerhollands existed in an oppressively racist milieu that engendered community formation. The colony’s history and demography indicate that Negerhollands was vernacularized in the Afro-Caribbean community during the last decades of the seventeenth century. External evidence also indicates that a derivative variety, Hoch Kreol, was created by an increasingly prosperous Euro-Caribbean community early in the next century. Although these two varieties symbolized opposing local identities, they comprised Virgin Islands Dutch Creole. A less skeptical view of early documentary evidence has also been posited with respect to the colony’s language. Researchers working from this perspective consider the available evidence to be a chronologically ordered representation of speech. For example, Arends (1993:372), sees the eighteenth-century language documentation as sufficient for “accurate 80 chapter four reconstruction of the creolization process.” Van Rossem and van der Voort (1993) suggest, albeit tentatively, that Negerhollands existed in the form documented in the eighteenth-century texts until about 1850. Acknowl- edging stylistic differences and the distorting influence of translation and orthographic conventions, den Besten et al. (1996:35) also see “gradual drift” to “true slave speech.” Apparently confident in the essential linguistic unity of the Danish colony, van der Voort and Muysken (1996, reported in Muysken 1995:344) use a corpus of texts produced between 1739 and 1936 to demonstrate this hypothesis. Van Rosem (1996) bases his analysis of functional shift in Negerhollands on the same texts. Distinguishing between what he identifies as white and black Negerhollands, documented respectively in the eighteenth and nineteenth, and in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, Hinskens (1998:1) writes of a “growing dispreference for syllable-final /r/. Parkvall (2000, following van Diggelen 1978) and den Besten et al. (1996) also accept this assumption. Mühlhäusler (2005:266) identifies Negerhollands as a creole “significantly shaped by deliberate engineering of missionaries,” and de Klein (2007) takes “data representing earlier stages of Negerhollands” from Magens (1770). This chapter examines available documentation of Virgin Islands English Creole. I arrive at conclusions similar to those of Graves (1977) and Tyson and Highfield (1994). I also demonstrate the usefulness of the early material when informed by social history and guided by the twentieth-century Negerhollands texts.

4.1 Evangelical Activity and Virgin Island Dutch Creole

Tyson and Highfield (1994:xiv) report that from a Danish perspective members of the colony’s Afro-Caribbean community were “culturally inferior and historically irrelevant.” As a result there is no mention of a creole language until sixty-three years after the arrival of the first Africans. Decades after the creation of first Negerhollands and then Hoch Kreol, in the 1730s, a Moravian missionary writes in his journal that “Brother [Johan Lorentz] Carstens is full of zeal: he wishes to translate the New Testament into creole, but it is very difficult because it is composed of too many languages.”1 Despite initial concerns, eventually the Moravians

1 “Br. Cars[tens] war fleissig wold das neije testament ins carriolse bringen: es is aber sehr schwer; den sie besteht in all su vieler Sprachen” (quoted in Stein 1986:5, in reference to a 1736 diary entry). virgin islands dutch creole 81 did attempt to create religious texts in the language of the colony. As the following discussion illustrates, while the development of the Moravian mission to the Danish colony2 begins in Saxony in 1722, the development of their variety of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole coincides with the growth of the St. Thomas Free Guts Afro-Caribbean neighborhood. A decade after the Moravian community was established on the estate of Count Nicholas von Zinzendorf, it obtained permission from the Dan- ish king to establish a mission on St. Thomas. Late in 1732, a date that is still celebrated in the church’s annual calendar (Fries and Pfohl 1926), two members of the sect arrived in St. Thomas. Handicapped by naiveté about chattel slavery and a language barrier, they also “endured the con- tempt and distrust” of the majority of both the Euro- and Afro-Caribbean communities (Sensbach 2005:45). Highfield (2009:210, 224) describes Afro- Caribbean response to the cultural alternatives the Moravians offered as “rang[ing] from initial bewilderment to frequent annoyance” and “direct, often violent overt resistance.” Over time Moravian persistence bore fruit although members of the Afro-Caribbean community only embraced those aspects of Christian- ity that advanced their interests. As elsewhere in the African Diaspora, they began exploring Christianity when their traditional religions seemed unable to mediate the brutality of their lives (Mullin 1992) and for the social advantages associated with Christianity (Highfield 2009). Sensbach (2005:89) provides two examples of this: one woman used scripture to control an abusive overseer and another used her knowledge of the Bible to “intimidate whites into silence.” The prominence given to music in Moravian worship (Fries and Pfohl 1926) no doubt also resonated with Afro-Caribbean worshipers. However, after the Moravians chastised a group of for “singing in a heathenish manner,” converts attempted to hide their traditional religious activities (Sensbach 2005:89). This tension continued for some time: Highfield (2009:221) reports that the Moravians documented punishing the persistence of “African music, dance, religion, and language.” Perceiving a relationship between Virgin Islands Dutch Creole and Dutch, the Moravians began to proselytize in that language. In 1736, because as indicated above, working in creole was too difficult, they linked their promise of eternal salvation to an opportunity to learn to read the

2 The Moravians also established missions throughout the Caribbean, and in Green- land, Central Asia, Africa, and the Southern United States. 82 chapter four

Standard Dutch Bible. Their offer of Dutch literacy attracted followers to the mission (Olwig 1995, Sensbach 2005). Their first three converts were baptized in that same year, and religious services on St. Thomas began in 1738. Also operating on St. Croix, the Moravians began a letter-writing cam- paign of personal testimony to document their progress. Unfortunately, how much of the letters’ form and contents reflect the literacy development of the converts who signed them, and how much was contributed by the missionaries is not clear. Stein (1986) describes early letters as stylized, inauthentic representations of natural speech that demonstrate incomplete mastery of Dutch.3 Sensbach (2005:62) describes later letters, which contain some creole features, as “fairly formulaic offering little personal information and reworking familiar themes.” About the time the Free Guts neighborhood in Charlotte Amalie had begun to grow, J.L. Carstens deeded nine enslaved persons and a plantation to the Moravians. This event was celebrated by “some forty” congregants (Sensbach 2005:107) in 1738. The following year, von Zinzendorf visited St. Thomas. His parting address, which was translated into Virgin Islands Dutch Creole, informed 300 “black Christians” (147) that since slavery was part of God’s plan—a divine curse on Africans–salvation demanded that they willingly endure exploitation. Sensbach (2005:73, 74) attributes the success of the Moravian mission to the “small core of [African and Afro-Caribbean] spiritual ‘workers’ ” that began to emerge in 1736. One of these workers was (Do)Mingo Gesu, translator of von Zinzendorf ’s address. Geso, a locally born son of African parents from the Slave Coast, was appointed assistant overseer by Carstens. Gesu was so successful financially and well placed socially that he loaned the missionaries money and arranged for their purchase of land (Sens- bach 2005). One of the letter writers, he was literate in Dutch and spoke German and one or more varieties of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole. A second spiritual worker, Abraham, is also identified as essential to the Moravian’s success because he took the Moravian’s message where the missionaries “could not go” for cultural reasons and because of their limited competence in Negerhollands (Sensbach 2005:74). A third spiritual worker, identified only as Rebecca, was even more central to the mission’s

3 Hinskens (1995) reports the correspondence in the Moravian archives in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania that was composed between 1734–1775 is written primarily in German. virgin islands dutch creole 83 success—so much so that when she left for Germany in 1741, the mission “fell on hard times” (192). According to Sensbach, evidence suggests Rebecca was born on Anti- gua around 1718. She was purchased by a Dutch planter, Lucas van Bever- hout, who brought her to St. Thomas.4 Lucas van Beverhout died in 1730 when Rebecca was about 12. As chattel, Rebecca was inherited by van Beverhout’s son, Adrian, who employed one of the Moravian missionaries as an overseer. Rebecca came to be so trusted by the family who held her in bondage that she was eventually manumitted and promoted to household manager. Sensbach (2005:118) indicates that Rebecca was a baptized Catholic intent on proselytizing when she sought out the Moravians several years after their arrival. He describes Rebecca quoting the English Bible “at a moment’s notice.” She also learned to speak one or more varieties of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole, to speak, read, and write Dutch, which became her primary language, and to speak, read, and write German. In 1737, Rebecca taught reading and writing to the female congregants. Sensbach describes Rebecca “as behaving like a White,” and as “probably identif[ying] more with European practices than with African ones,” since for the missionaries, one of whom she married in 1739, “her cultural blackness had disappeared” (67, 89, 42). Describing the Moravians as cultish and “dangerously disturbed,” Sens- bach (2005:235, 179) reports that in the early 1740s, despite efforts to conceal their activities, the Moravians’ fixation with the wound in Jesus’ side was seen as “one of the most bizarre experiments in eighteenth-century Europe.” In 1768, Oldendorp, an “academically trained” observer from Ger- many (Meier 1995:67), arrived on St. Croix for an eighteen-month stay in the Danish colony. He spent much of his time at the mission near Chris- tiansted, St. Croix, surveying written documents, “talking with the oldest missionary” and “various aged, believing Negroes” (Oldendorp 1987:xxxii, xxxiii). Gilbert (1986:2) describes Oldendorp as “both very much a product of his age and yet distinctly in advance of it.” Graves (1977), Olwig (1985), and Arends (2004) also comment on Oldendorp’s atypical interest in and sympathy with those who were enslaved. Charged with writing the mission’s history, a task that Sensbach (2005) suggests was partially motivated by the church’s desire to improve its image in Europe, Oldendorp

4 The van Beverhout family is first listed as landowners in 1692. By the time the Moravi- ans arrived, the family had joined the economic and political elite of the Danish colony. 84 chapter four interviewed members of the Afro-Caribbean community “who had opened themselves to the Brethren’s teachings,” and who scorned “idolatry” (Sensbach 2005:237). During his visit, in addition to compiling a German— creole glossary, Oldendorp compiled a detailed report. Because of its length and because church officials feared that his views would “shock” European readers and be rejected by their [g]overnments (Stein n.d.a:1), Oldendorp’s original text was heavily edited by Bossart.5 The substantially shorter version, published in 1777, views Africans as “savages . . . who lived in ignorance of the saving grace of God and illustrated the evil of natural life . . .” (Olwig 1989:339, 342; see also Arends 2004). Bossart describes brutal punishment as the only option for con- trolling enslaved people who resisted conversion. Gilbert (1986:9) reports that Oldendorp authored an “80-page criticism” of the 1777 edition, which according to Meier (1995:68), he considered “arbitrary, haphazard, and distorted.” However, according to S.-D. Brown (1983:39) Oldendorp was primarily “concerned with changes in the ‘spiritual language’ of his original which corresponded to the older manner of expression at Herrnhut.” By 1755, the free Afro-Caribbean population in Charlotte Amalie had increased so that it represented about a third of the town’s free population. Although the shift to English and Virgin Islands English Creole had already begun, at the beginning of the next decade, the Moravians started publishing in a variety of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole described by Sprauve (1986:13) as “bookish.” Between 1732 and Oldendorp’s arrival, 79 Moravian missionaries had baptized more than 4,500 members of the Afro-Caribbean community on all three islands, and Oldendorp reports nearly 700 additional candidates awaiting baptism. Thus the linguistic influence of the Moravians was substantial among the Christianized Afri- can/Afro-Caribbean population. Reporting that the language of the Danish West Indies was distinct from Dutch, Oldendorp (2000, trans. and summarized in Stein n.d.a) documents the existence of both the “more refined” Hoch Kreol and a variety of Vir- gin Islands Dutch Creole that was sometimes incomprehensible to people who were not members of the Afro-Caribbean community. Negerhollands also posed problems for the missionaries, who according to Oldendorp

5 Portions of Oldendorp’s history appeared in Danish and Swedish in 1784 (S.-D. Brown 1983, n 13). An English translation of the 1777 edition was produced by Highfield and Barac in 1987. In 2000, a re-edited German version of the original report was published. virgin islands dutch creole 85

(1987:258) “initially” relied on Dutch and German borrowings. Even a brief perusal of Oldendorp’s (1996) glossary reveals the considerable extent to which these languages influenced the evangelical variety of Virgin Islands Dutch creole, providing what Rickford and Handler (1994:241) call a “vector of standard speech.” Despite their intention to reach out to the Afro-Caribbean community, a combination of factors coalesced to mitigate against the Moravians developing native-like language proficiency in Negerhollands. One of these is age. Research has shown the age at which learning begins is typically the best predictor of ultimate attainment (e.g., Birdsong 2006, Hyltenstam and Abrahamsson 2005). Another factor that must be considered is input quality. The missionaries were in contact mainly with their spiritual workers, who wrote in Dutch for the first decade and a half “consciously or not—exclud[ing] systematically overt African elements” (Stein n.d.b:4–5, emphasis in the original). Oldendorp (1987:258) writes,“both whites and blacks learn very gladly from the missionaries because they consider it an important matter to produce proper expression.” Because, like the European missionaries, Afro-Caribbean spiritual workers were positively oriented to Western culture, they used their most Germanic variants to display that orientation, to continue their own learning, and to improve the missionaries’ comprehension. The status difference between the missionaries and the spiritual workers also limited corrective feedback, and language ideology, which saw printed texts as the means by which language varieties achieved legitimacy, limited the Moravians’ language learning. It is also possible that the variety that the missionaries targeted was Hoch Kreol rather than Negerhollands. Thus for a variety of reasons, although the evangelical variety accrued creole features over time, it is characterized by the persistence of nonnative forms (e.g., Fridland and Bartlett 2007) and over generalization of grammatical patterns. Ironically, although the evangelical variety of Virgin Islands Dutch Cre- ole was not associated with a speech community, it is more copiously documented than either Negerhollands or Hoch Kreol. Like other creoles adapted for evangelical activity, it lacks what Warner-Lewis (1996:83) describes as “vitality and authenticity.” Graves’s (1977:86) assessment is that “very little if any . . . is the slaves’ language.” Sprauve (1990:43) observes Mrs. Stevens “more than once lamented” her unfamiliarity with the evangelical variety. The similarities and differences among Dutch, the evangelical variety, Negerhollands, and Virgin Islands English Creole are illustrated by examples 4a–d, which translate a small portion of the 86 chapter four

Parable of the Prodigal Son. Examples 4a and 4b are from a handout provided to me by Glenn Gilbert from a presentation that he and Dennis Makhudu gave in 1984. Although identified as Negerhollands in the handout, 4b is the evangelical variety. I provide the Negerhollands and Virgin Islands English Creole versions.

(4a) Dutch (in Roman orthography): Een zeker mensch had twee zon-en. a certain man had two son-pl En de jongste van hen zeide tot den vader: and the youngest of 3.pl said to the father: vader geef mij het deel des goeds, dat mij toekomt. father give 1.sg the part the things that 1.sg due. (4b) The evangelical variety of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole: Een Mens ha hab twee Soon-s. A man pst have two son-pl. En di jong-ste van sender ha seg na die Vaeder: And the young-sup of 3.pl pst say to the father Vaeder, giev mie mie Part van die gut, Father, give 1.sg 3.sg.poss share of the thing, die mie mut hab. 3.sg 1.sg must have. (4c) Negerhollands: di a ha en nom. 3.sg pst have a man. am a ha twe juŋ. 3.sg pst have two son. di juŋ en (h)a se ši pupa The young one pst say 3.sg.poss father astublif, mi maŋke a fa mi gut (senu). Please, 1.sg need/want 1.sg.poss thing (pl). (4d) Virgin Islands English Creole (written in Roman orthography and standardized English spelling): It had a man. He have two son. The young one (he) tell he father: Father, please, I want my thing (them).

Comparison of the four examples indicates that (4a) and (4b) resemble each other more closely than (4b) resembles (4c). Even this short sample virgin islands dutch creole 87 reveals lexical, phonological, morphological, and pragmatic differences between the language used by the missionaries and that of the Afro-Carib- bean community. Lexical differences are Mens vs. /nom/ ‘man’, soons ‘sons’ vs. /juŋ/ ‘boy, youth, son’, Vaeder vs. /pupa/ ‘father’. Syntactically the evangelical text contains the obligatory Negerhollands preverbal past tense marker, /ha/. However, the sequence /ha ha/ is not found in the twentieth-century data. Rather before /ha/ ‘have’, the past tense marker is obligatorily reduced to [a]. Syllable structure (which is discussed further in Chapter 7) is a second phonological feature of interest. The syllable structure of the evangelical version more closely resembles that of Dutch than it does Negerhollands. In (4a), 84 percent of the syllables have codas. In (4b), 57 percent of the syllables have codas. In contrast, only 19 percent of syllables in (4c) have codas. As discussed in Chapter 8, plural marking also distinguishes the varieties of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole. In the examples below, the Dutch and evangelical versions mark an indefinite noun with Dutch plural inflections: twe sonen/soons ‘sons’. As discussed in Chapter 8, indefinite nouns cannot be marked for plural in Negerhollands, and plural marking on definite nouns with /senu/ (in Negerhollands) and them (in Virgin Islands English Creole) is optional as indicated by the parentheses. The pragmatic force of the Dutch and evangelical versions also is not characteristic of Negerhollands because, in the Afro-Caribbean community, the individual is subordinate to the family group, and elders are deferred to. The failure of the son to address his parent respectfully vio- lates local norms of politeness. Example (5) is a single, multiclause sentence in the evangelical variety of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole written more than a century after the landing of the first cohort of Africans on St. Thomas.6 Admitting similarities between the language of the example, which they identify as “Negerhol- lands,” and “older Dutch,” den Besten et al. (1996:2, 3) also briefly discuss the creole features in this text and compare it with a portion of a narrative collected by de Jong (1926).

6 Den Besten et al. (1996:1) provide an image of the original, an interlinerar gloss, a Dutch translation, and an English translation. The following, slightly more literal English translation is mine: ‘It has now already been several year ago, that we had delivered you a creole Psalm book, that you could help to sing when we have our gatherings, so many of you have learn to read, and to make use of it also, when you sit in your house without to be at work, to come familiar with the psalms (or songs)’. 88 chapter four

(5) The evangelical variety of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole: Die ben noe al sommig Jaar geleeden, dat ons a ka Leveer jender een Creole Psalm-Boeki, dat jender a sal kan help vor sing wanneer ons hab ons versam- mlingen sooveel as van jender ka leer vor lees, en vor mak gebruk van die ookal, wanneer jender sett nabin jender Hoes sonder, vor wees na Werk, vor kom be kent met die Psalmen (of Liederen).

Comparing (5) with (6), which is taken from a conversation about spiders, reveals differences in syntax and discourse. The Negerhollands syntax is characterized by clause chaining rather than embedding. Additionally, Mrs. Stevens used parallelism (i.e., en stuk o en ston), alliteration, and repetition in her narrative.

(6) Negerhollands rs: hoso di spoidʌ suk? how the spider look? ‘how do spiders look?’ msa: mi no wit. 1.sg neg know ‘I don’t know’ spoidc ha muči futu spider have many foot spiders have a lot of feet’ [an dey] wandu [and 3.pl] walk ‘and they walk about’ [dey] ha en hol [3.pl] have a hole ‘they have a hole’ lo abɛni di hol go in the hole ‘go in the hole’ mi no wit 1.sg neg know ‘I don’t know’ mi no wɛl senu 1.sg neg like 3.pl ‘I don’t like them’ sen bit, bit ju, ju wit 3.pl bite, bite 2.sg, 2.sg, know ‘They bite you, you know’ rs: [When you were a child, did you ever put a grass down the hole?] virgin islands dutch creole 89

msa: matʌ senu! mi en stuk o en stin kill 3.pl! with a stick or a stone ‘kill them with a stick or a stone’ weni mi hal senu fo ʌbene [dey] sen hol, when 1.sg draw 3.pl from in their 3.pl.poss hole ‘when I draw them out from their, their holes’ mi te dʌ sten o di stuk, 1.sg take the stone or the stick ‘I take the stone or the stick’ an mi sla am, sla am, sla am, sla am and 1.sg beat 3.sg, beat 3.sg, beat 3.sg, beat 3.sg ‘and I beat it, beat it, beat it, beat it’ te an dot. until 3.sg die/dead ‘until it’s dead’

The Danish Lutheran Church was established on St. Thomas with the first unsuccessful attempt at colonization in 1666. However, the Danes did not begin missionary activity in the Afro-Caribbean community until the 1750s, nearly two decades after the arrival of the Moravians. Like the Moravians, the Lutherans produced and published Virgin Islands Dutch Creole texts. According to Liebst (1996:125), Magens’s grammar was prepared for Lutheran “teachers and the missionary ministers.” Graves (1977, following Hesseling 1905 and Larsen 1950) indicates that the Lutherans’ spelling was more phonetically transparent than that of the Moravians. However, with the exception of Magens, a native speaker of Hoch Kreol, the Danes also were limited by native-language interference. Arriving in the colony as an adult, Magens’s father quickly became one of the richest planters on St. Thomas (Dyhr 2001). Magens’s uncle governed the colony between 1708 and 1710. Magens was born into this prominent St. Thomas family in 1715 during the period when Hoch Kreol was emerging. He traveled to Denmark in the early 1930s to study law at a time when the University instituted “an examination in Latin” (University of Copenhagen n.d.). He also knew Danish, Dutch, English, Greek, and perhaps Negerhollands. Returning to St. Thomas in 1737 and again in 1760 (Dyhr 2001), Magens, no doubt, was aware of the Moravians’ efforts and the controversies that surrounded them. Magens’s university education, his affiliation with the Danish Lutheran Church, and the time in which he lived all provide insight into his understanding of grammatical theory. He used Traditional Grammar to learn Latin and Greek. As a Lutheran layman active in the church, he understood Latin to be necessary for salvation since at that time the Lutheran 90 chapter four church taught that Latin texts reflected the structure of the world as God created it (K. Jensen 1990). Although Magens indicates that with respect to the language of the Danish colony, “there is not very much to note grammar-wise” (Hale n.d.:n.p.), his Hoch Kreol grammar appeared in 1770. Its preface, dated 1665 was written only three years after the publication of Lowth’s well-received prescriptive English grammar and Sheridan’s A Course of Lectures on Elocution, which contrasted civilized and barbarous nations on the basis of their concern (or lack there of ) with language study. Whether Magens was directly influenced by Lowth and Sheridan is not known. However, the prevailing intellectual climate would have predisposed him to share their cultural assumptions. Perhaps of most import is Magens’s articulated desire to improve Hoch Kreol by reigning in linguistic diversity. As Sprauve (1997:44) puts it, Magens’s aim was to “alert those who would learn the [creole] language to African linguistic features and to denounce them.” Magens (Hale n.d.:n.p.) writes, I must note furthermore, that if someone wishes to form an idea of the Black’s pronunciation of the creole, he would be very much mistaken [to use this Hoch Kreol grammar], for the blacks cannot pronounce guttural sounds so most drop them out, and further they cannot, when two consonants come together, pronounce them both. In order to avoid making this work irregular and interminable, I have followed the pronunciation of the white native speakers, and I would hope that all right-thinking people would agree that this is the best method of formulating rules which will make up a language which will be useful and of service to them on all three Danish islands. The grammar’s format reveals the degree to which Traditional Grammar guided Magens’s analysis. There is a characteristic (Grillo 1989, referencing O. Smith 1984) interest in adverbs, prepositions, and conjunctions that today seems excessive. Additionally, despite an absence of inflectional affixation in Hoch Kreol, Magens uses the paradigmatic categories of Latin, “into which are stuffed select and often convoluted data from the native language” (Sprauve 1997:44). Magens’s grammar also includes a number of dialogues that are intended to represent Afro-Caribbean speakers. Unfortunately, it is not known whether the texts are transcriptions, actual conversations reproduced from memory, or imagined interactions. The only sociocultural information provided appears in the dialogues’ titles, which identify the speakers as “slaves,” “servants,” “friends,” or family members. virgin islands dutch creole 91

4.2 Language and the Urban Afro-Caribbean Community

As Schneider (2007:26) observes, in contact settings the polar cultural extremes that characterize initial contact are “increasingly blurred” over time. This was the case in the Danish colony; an urban lect began to emerge in Charlotte Amalie in the early eighteenth century as increasing prosperity allowed the plantation elite to establish large domestic staffs. Although enslaved, urban-dwelling Negerhollands speakers had better food, shelter, clothing, working conditions, and access to Germanic linguistic features than did those who remained on the plantations. The introduction of literacy in Dutch provided both additional access to Ger- manic linguistic features and institutional support for their use. A second factor in the development of an urban lect was manumission. As mentioned above, by 1750, more than a third of the Charlotte Amalie free population was Afro-Caribbean. With St. Thomas responsible for “a large part of all West Indian trade” (Gjessing and McClean 1987:12), many free members of the Afro-Caribbean community, like the parents of the philosopher Edward Wilmot Blyden, were relatively prosperous. They owned rental property, furnishings, and “some two-thirds” of the colony’s enslaved urban population (Green-Pedersen 1981, N. Hall 1992:143). While “the boundaries of ethnicity and ascriptive class remained inviolate”7 (155), Negerhollands speakers who came under the ideology of European superiority/African inferiority increasingly adopted linguistic features such as syllable codas. Local loyalty continued to be reflected in the use of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole forms and discourse patterns. However, with urban living “prestige-induced replacement rather than need-filling borrowing8 and loan translation” became the mechanism for language change in the Afro-Caribbean community (Hoenigswald 1971:474, referencing Hockett 1958:404). Urban Negerhollands is best documented by Pontoppidian (Sabino and Gramberg 1997). Interestingly, there appears to be a sex dimension to the Germanici- zation of Negerhollands. N. Hall (1992) reports that agricultural workers were predominantly male while many of those who provided domestic and personal service in the colony’s towns were female. Given the tendency of women to use more prestigious variants that is frequently reported in the sociolinguistic literature, it is quite possible that Germanicized variants

7 For example, N. Hall (1991) discusses restrictions on naming and dress. 8 Later, following Winford 2005, I distinguish imposition and borrowing. 92 chapter four came to be associated with access to a broader range of economic resources, town living, and femaleness while the more conservative variants came to be associated with limited resources, agricultural labor, and malesness. The predominance of males among de Jong’s consultants (see Table 1) may reflect this tendency although it may also reflect the community’s reluctance to expose its women to an outsider.

4.3 Scholarly Activity and Virgin Island Dutch Creole

Linguists first began to examine contact varieties because of an interest in language change (Cassidy 1994, Reinecke 1937). In the eighteenth century, following van den Bergh (1840), Dutch researchers began to refer to contact variety that emerged in the Danish West Indies as Negerhollands. The continuation of this tradition has created confusion with respect to the linguistic history of the Virgin Islands. For example, despite striking differences between the spoken language and the language of the evangelical texts, Muysken (2001:162) writes that “most of what we know about Negerhollands comes from missionaries.” Arends (2004:174), who tries to distinguish Virgin Islands Dutch Creole varieties while preserving traditional usage, coins the oxymoron “White Negerhollands”—an unworkable solution since there was a proscription against the enslavement of whites in the Danish Colony (Sensbach 2005). Writing a decade and a half after van den Bergh, Van Name (1869–1870) remarks on the differences between the evangelical variety and the spoken language. Based on Oldendorp’s grammatical sketch and data from a trilingual consultant, Van Name insightfully comments on the restriction of plural marking to definite nouns and the prevalence of vowel final syllables in his oral material. As useful as Van Name’s discussion is, there is some evidence that his informant, who emigrated to St. Thomas when he was six, was not a fully fluent speaker of urban Negerhollands. For example, Van Name translates a sa ‘have + remote/hypothetical future’ as should have. In de Jong’s (1926) texts, this is documented as sa ka (e.g., ju sa ka du di bini en stiki pampi ‘You should have put it in a bit of paper’). The informant also translates the verb ‘to fall’ as val, not the more conservative fal. An amateur linguist, Erik Jansen Pontoppidan, also published two articles on Virgin Islands Dutch Creole in 1881 and 1887. (English translations of these appear as appendixes I and II.) Born in 1847, when scientific racism was beginning to “gain intellectual traction” (Guyatt 2007:20), virgin islands dutch creole 93

Pontoppidan graduated from the University of Copenhagen as a physician in 1872. He served as a government-sponsored general practitioner on St. Thomas between 1876 and 1881. From his discussions, it is not possible to determine whether Pontop- pidan realized what he described as the “old, funny” (1887:297) language of the Afro-Caribbean community was of descriptive interest or whether he documented the language of Afro-Caribbean speakers because of language attrition in the Euro-Caribbean community. Whatever his motivation was, the prevailing racism of the times is quite apparent in his differentiation of the language of the Afro- and Euro-Caribbean communities. He (1887:296) writes, [n]aturally the language which was created by half-civilized Negroes for daily use was too limited and too impoverished for thought and expression to satisfactorily represent any but the most mundane and everyday things, and it was therefore necessary to have recourse to the parent languages, especially to Dutch, in order to make it suitable for use in wider spheres. In that way, there emerged Hoch Kreol, which was used for literacy and for religious purposes, and the low creole which generally the Negroes spoke in their daily activities. Also consistent with thinking of the times is Pontoppidan’s (1887:298) attribution of the analytic structure of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole to decay and his suggestion that, given the absence of Negerhollands inflectional morphology, it had no grammatical structure. Of particular interest is his direct comparison to Latin: Grammar creates for them insurmountable difficulties even in such a simple and formless language as English. . . . The Negroes speak English, French, or Spanish accordingly, using the same method as a child with little respect for grammar; it is therefore not a wonder that the creole, which as an original Negro language fulfills all their needs, . . . is ideal as it probably would be impossible to invent a simpler language, and, [it] differs in a decent way from Madvig’s Latin grammar by having next to no rules and no “irregularities”. Like Van Name, Pontoppidan distinguishes Negerhollands from the language of religious texts, commenting that when compared to Negerhol- lands, the evangelical variety was artificial “so that the Negroes themselves barely understood and in some places [it] seemed more like a bad Dutch” (1887:297). The twentieth century saw continued interest in Virgin Islands Dutch Creole. Reinecke (1937:394) describes Hesseling’s 1905 monograph, Het Negerhollands der Deense Antillen, as “unquestionably the best historical 94 chapter four monograph on a creole tongue.” Reinecke comments particularly on Hesseling’s recognition that linguistic heterogeneity, typological distance, age, and social distance played important roles in creole genesis. Never- theless, according to Larsen (1950), Hesseling quoted heavily from the evangelical texts. Hesseling acknowledges that Negerhollands originated in the Afro- Caribbean community. However, he does not consider the Afro-Caribbean community’s desire and ability to resist assimilatory pressures—perhaps because he had not lived in the Danish colony or heard Negerhollands or Hoch Kreol spoken (Slomanson 1993:426). Rather, casting his analysis in racial terms, he suggests that Negerhollands stabilized when it was used by whites and blacks in a unified community such that it became a written medium. Hesseling comments on the difficulty of expressing the message of the Gospels “in thought modes of the Negroes in their Creole vocabulary” (Larsen 1950:118, translating Hesseling 1905:38). Also published in the early twentieth century, Schuchardt’s (1914) brief “Zum Negerholländischen von St. Thomas” follows the Dutch tradition of identifying Virgin Islands Dutch Creole as Negerhollands. Graves (1977), observing that Schuchardt’s sources are difficult to verify, suggests that he drew on Pontoppidan and Hesseling to supplement a letter written to him by a member of the Magens family. Schuchardt underestimates the accuracy of Pontoppidan’s proverbs (Sabino and Gramberg 1997) and overestimates the representativeness of the data provided by his corre- spondent perhaps because of his assumption that schooling and overt prestige played primary roles in language change (Seuren 1998). Hesseling’s student, J.B.P. de Josselin de Jong, collected a Negerhollands corpus during a joint Danish-Dutch Archeological expedition. De Jong’s (1926) material consists of eighty-one narratives and songs produced by the ten Virgin Islands Dutch/English Creole bilinguals. This material has a number of grammatical features in common with other Caribbean creoles. With respect to earlier documentation, de Jong (1924:55) writes that little of it represents “the genuine vernacular” [trans. Sabino]. Hesseling (1933 in Markey and Roberge 1979) remarks on de Jong’s expertise and notes the carefulness and perceptiveness with which he recorded the data. Larsen (1950:106) identifies de Jong’s work as “perhaps the most important,” and Hale (n.d.:n.p.) in his introduction to his translation of Magens’s Hoch Kreol grammar, describes de Jong’s material as “excellent.” Graves (1977), who provides data analysis informed by emerging scholarship in African-American varieties of English and Creole Studies, is also convinced of the integrity of the de Jong narratives. Stolz (1983:53–54) virgin islands dutch creole 95 credits de Jong with being the first to develop an unambiguous phonetic transcription and as being the “only reliable source among the literature on [Negro Dutch].” The language of de Jong texts is largely consistent with data that Mrs. Stevens provided to Sprauve, Graves, and me more than half a century later although there are aspects of Mrs. Stevens’s grammar which are more conservative than that of de Jong’s consultants. Den Besten et al. (1996) provide a comprehensive bibliography of manuscripts and publications on Virgin Islands Dutch Creole.

4.4 Language Death: A Red Herring

Eventually, the racist assumption that differences between the Caribbean vernaculars and standardized varieties of their European lexifiers reflected differences in intellectual capacity was abandoned. However, the deeply rooted assumption that language change was degenerative remained. Varieties of English had begun to dislodge Virgin Islands Dutch Creole on St. Thomas in the eighteenth century. By the time de Jong recorded his material, there were no speakers of Hoch Kreol and no monolingual speakers of Negerhollands in what had become a U.S. territory. Like Pontoppidan before him, de Jong (1924:2) sees language death as responsible for what he describes as “phonological and morphological erosion.” Although Hesseling (1933 in Markey and Roberge 1979) remarks on the superiority of de Jong’s transcription compared to that of Magens and Pontoppidan and although he also recognized the existence of social variation (Meijer and Muysken 1977), like de Jong, Hesseling (1933 in Markey and Roberge 1979:57, 56, and 58) regards the earlier texts as representa- tive of “a much purer creole” and describes the twentieth-century data as revealing the “gradual downfall of the language” pointing particularly to “erosion,” “confusion” and “simplification.” Finding Hesseling’s logic compelling, Reinecke (1937:414) attributes difference in the eighteenth and twentieth-century material to “great phonetic decay” due to the removal of Dutch as a linguistic model. Nearly 60 years later, Bickerton (1981:74) wittily, but erroneously, rejects Negerhol- lands as relevant to a theory of creole origins using the same rationale. Apparently not fully appreciating the degree to which racism and prescriptivism limited documentation of features with low overt prestige in the eighteenth-century, Muysken (1995:335, 334) concludes this material represents “earlier stages of [Negerhollands] . . . speech” with the variety recorded by de Jong stabilizing at a time when it was used “less and less 96 chapter four by the upper and middle classes.” The tradition of using Negerhollands to describe the language of the Danish colony as a whole and the linkage of language death and decay lead Muysken to this conclusion despite his recognizing that

1) there was considerable linguistic heterogeneity in the eighteenth century; 2) the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth century texts “represent clearly distinguishable varieties” with the “White varieties . . . abun- dantly documented” (343); 3) the twentieth-century materials “appear to represent . . . the language of the descendants of the old plantation slaves” (335); and 4) “audience design,” nonnative speaker competence, and the degree to which native speakers were involved in documentation and translation play a role in representational accuracy (345).

4.5 Abandoning Previous Assumptions

De Jong’s nine elderly, consultants were Virgin Islands Dutch Creole/Vir- gin Islands English Creole bilinguals. Mrs. Stevens was two generations younger than de Jong’s consultants. Thus, as expected, there is evidence of lexical fading (Sabino 1990, 1996). That is, some speakers produced invariant forms which were part of a larger set of variants historically. Addi- tionally, during our conversations, Mrs. Stevens sometimes experienced difficulty with lexical retrieval due to decreased use and her advanced age. However, as Sprauve (1997:50) indicates the Negerhollands data produced by Mrs. Stevens “is the best yard stick for authenticity.” This and the points raised above establish that the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth century Virgin Islands Dutch Creole texts are not part of a single diachronic corpus. Treating them as such produces a distorted history of language development in the Danish colony. As Sabino (1990:18) states, while admittedly there are many features shared by [Negerhollands, Hoch Kreol, and the evangelical variety], we need to analyze each variety separately so that we can capture systematicity and determine in what ways these varieties are the same and in what ways they differ. Additionally, if we intend to extrapolate from our analyses to other Caribbean creoles and beyond, we need to be certain that the data we examine is comparable to those entities. virgin islands dutch creole 97

Table 10. English, Ewe, and Virgin Islands Dutch Creole interrogative forms English Ewe Gloss Virgin Islands Dutch Creole Forms who ‘person + which’ /(a)wi/, /(a)widi/ (20th), wie ‘who’ (18th) when ‘hour + which’ /wa tit/ (20th,18th)/ ‘what’ + ‘time’ what ‘thing + which’ wagoed, wagoet, wagut (18th) ‘what’ + ‘thing’ which ‘which’ /wa fo/ (20th), wa(t)voor (18th) ‘what’ + ‘for’ where ‘place + which’ /(w)ape/, /(w)api/ (20th), na wa plek, wat plek (18th) ‘what’ + ‘place’; /wapiši/ 20th) ‘what’ + ‘side’ wherever – /wa eke/ (20th) ‘where ever’ ‘what’ + ‘each, every’ why -- /(a)wama(k)/ (20th) ‘what’ + ‘make’

Such caution does not deny the value of the eighteenth-century documentation. On the contrary, this material provides valuable evidence of forms not documented in the twentieth-century material. For example, Hale’s (n.d.:n.p.) discussion of phrasal interrogatives in Magens’s grammar provides counter evidence to D. Taylor’s (1971) claim that Negerhol- lands does not have these structures. Although we do not have evidence as to when phrasal interrogatives were replaced by unitary forms, their presence in Hoch Kreol suggests that they were sufficiently frequent at the beginning of the eighteenth century for them to have been borrowed. Additional evidence for their early appearance in Negerhollands can be drawn from the existence of similar structures in Ewe, one of the (New) Kwa languages that was spoken during the early decades of settlement in the Danish colony. Table 10 illustrates the full set of forms as documented by Oldendorp (1987), Magens (Hale n.d.), and Pontoppidan (1881, 1887).9 The Ewe data are from Heine, Claudi, and Hünnermeyer (1991:57). Verb fronting provides a second example of how the eighteenth-century documentation can be used as a corrective. Verb fronting is found in Akan and Ewe (e.g., Ameka 2006, McWhorter 2000, Rickford 1986), but it appears infrequently in the twentieth-century data. However, examples provided by Oldendorp and Magens suggests that this (New) Kwa rhetorical device was once frequently employed: Oldendorp (1987:255) records de loop me le loop ‘It’s go, I’m going’ and Magens (Hale n.d.:n.p.) writes da breek sender ka breek ‘It’s break, they’ve broken.”

9 den Besten and van der Voort (1999), who provide an excellent discussion of their Dutch lexical sources. 98 chapter four

4.6 Summary

Members of the Afro-Caribbean community in the Danish colony spoke Negerhollands, which became socially differentiated over time. Initially, there were native and nonnative speakers of Negerhollands. As a members of the Afro-Caribbean community established residence in Charlotte Amalie and acquired property, they developed an urban lect under the influence of Hoch Kreol and the language of evangelical texts. This the variety was documented by Pontoppidian, a Danish physician, in the last quarter of the nineteenth century. The rural variety of Negerhollands was not reliably documented until the twentieth century. Members of the Euro-Caribbean community spoke Hoch Kreol, which was documented in 1770 by a native speaker. Christian missionaries developed a third variety over the course of a century, increasingly incorporating Hoch Kreol and Negerhollands features into their texts. Together these language varieties constitute Virgin Islands Dutch Creole. By pointing to sociocultural context and by comparing the ways in which these varieties encode content, this chapter argues that the differences between them are sufficient to warrant their being analyzed separately. It also argues that because there is no documentation of creole genesis in the seventeenth century, and because the earlier texts are limited by the influence of grammatical prescriptivism and by racist assumptions about language and cultural contact, language history in the Danish West Indies must be carefully reconstructed. The chapters that follow attempt to do just that. Chapter 5 begins this process by determining how Africans and their descendants are likely to have coped with linguistic contact given the colony’s sociohistorical context. In particular, five situational variables are explored: 1) age of arrival, 2) trauma/anxiety, 3) aptitude and multilingualism, 4) intentionality/investment, and 5) sex. Chapter five

Language Learning and Situational Constraints

I’m so hungry my belly want to know if my throat slit. (Virgin Islands saying)

5.0 Introduction

Afro-Caribbean vernaculars have long been considered imperfectly learned versions of European linguistic targets—a belief rooted in falla- cious assumptions about the mental and physical capabilities of the people who created and use these languages. Thus, it comes as no surprise that the relationship between creole genesis and adult language learning is widely recognized (e.g., Alleyne 1971, 1980; F. Byrne 1994, Christie 1983; McWhorter 2005; Mufwene 1990; Plag 2007, 2008, 2009; Sabino 1990, 1994; Siegel 1997, 2003, 2005, 2006, 2008; Thomason 2001; Thomason and Kaufman 1988; and Valdman 1983). With the rejection of assumptions that creoles arose because of Africans’ inferiority, creolization was attributed to the conditions of cultural contact which limited access to linguistic targets. For example, having carefully surveyed the field, Reinecke (1937) sees creoles arising because of communication pressures in settings with insufficient input. There are indeed parallels between adult language learning and creolization. In both there is linguistic contact at the level of the individual. However, when new languages emerge individual solutions to the challenges of cultural contact are evaluated and then adopted, modified, or discarded by a group establishing a shared social identity. As Valdman (1983:230) puts it, “[c]reolization requires the use of the nascent speech variety as the primary means of communication and social cohesion for emerging community.” (See also Mintz and Price 1992.) From such a perspective (e.g., Woolard 1998), creoles are primarily enactments of relationships. Recent years have seen an increased interest in the sociocultural approach and, thus, a greater appreciation of the role of contact in language learning (e.g., Block 2003 and the references therein, Kuhl 2004). How- ever, the “institutional framework” many Foreign and Second Language Acquisition researchers limits the usefulness of their work to Creole Studies 100 chapter five

(Meisel 1983:11).1 The monolingual bias in these fields, which sees learners as moving from their first to a second language without consideration of power relations and the ways in which multilinguals deploy their linguistic resources (e.g., Backus 1999, Bobda and Mbouya 2005, Kachru 1994, Mühlhäusler 1985, Sabino 2009, Sridhar 1994, Woolard 2004), also has proven to be an impediment. This is because, as Carrington (1987:82, 83) points out, in communities in which a creole is being created, language learners acquire “a communication system [emphasis in the original] that is likely to include several entities that we call languages.” An additional consideration is that, like linguistic research more generally, research on adult language learning has been dominated by theories that see human linguistic diversity as crucially limited by neurobiology. Proponents of this view understand new grammars as emerging as learners fail to reset parameters. For example, Veenstra (1996) argues that creole structure primarily reflects universal processes; Wekker (1996) attributes creole genesis to learning failure that reflects adults’ lack of access to Universal Grammar; and Sprouse (2006:170) suggests that insufficient input “prevented the creators of creole languages from engaging in failure-driven (UG constrained) revision (‘learning’) to affect convergence on the target language.” Two developmental scenarios that consider context have been advanced with respect to creole genesis as adult language learning. From the perspective of gradualists, low ratios of Africans to Europeans are thought to have resulted in language varieties that were essentially European in character with creole features emerging later. Mather (2006) provides an excellent overview of this position with respect to the French-lexicon creoles. In contrast to this perspective is the view that the context of cultural contact was such that West African cultural features were deployed at the earliest stage of contact, resulting in languages that were African in character. Mullin (1992) provides evidence of fairly rapid lexical learning. Illustrating the importance of situational factors, he indicates that Africans became intelligible to those who held them in bondage in two or three years, in Virginia and Jamaica respectively. However, Van Name (1869–70:124) suggested that for the majority of Africans transshipped to the New World target-like learning of European tongues was “quite out of the question”

1 As discussed in the previous chapter, the institutional support provided by missionary activity facilitated development of Germanic-influenced forms associated with an urban Afro-Caribbean population. language learning and situational constraints 101 due to psychological displacement, anxiety, malnourishment, brutality, physical exhaustion, and shortened life spans. Both alternatives have been advanced for creole genesis in the Danish West Indies. Second Language Acquisition research on learning context has demonstrated that learning rate is sensitive to situational variables. Five such variables can be explored for the Danish colony. These are age of arrival, 2) trauma/anxiety, 3) aptitude and multilingualism, 4) intentionality/ investment, and 5) sex. Thus, despite an absence of seventeenth-century documentation for Negerhollands, it is possible to estimate the degree of learning prior to stabilization of the African population. The sections below explore these variables in light of the colony’s history. The evidence suggests that for most Africans in the Danish West Indies conditions were such that learning was severely limited during the first decade and a half of settlement.

5.1 Age of Arrival

Human brains create neural circuitry (Mechelli et al. 2004). Exposure to human language stimulates the creation of connections among the trillion- plus neurons present at birth. By age three, children have twice the number of synapses that adults have, and they experience three times more brain activity. However at puberty, the capacity to reorganize neural connections decreases, unnecessary synapses are eliminated, and active synapses are strengthened (Kuhl 2001; see also Fox-Weber and Neville 1999, Hyltenstam and Abrahamsson 2005). As a result, like other cognitively driven functions (e.g., risk taking, recall of detail, performing under pressure), the ability to acquire language diminishes over time. Thus, although the influence of confounding variables makes the prediction of ultimate attainment less accurate for older learners, the age at which learning begins is consistently identified as the best predictor of ultimate attainment (e.g., Bialystok and Hakuta 1999, discussed in Gass and Selinker 2001; Birdsong 2006; Hyltenstam and Abrahamsson 2005; Ioup 2008). Although some research indicates that adults make greater gains in syntax and morphology than children. Bowden, Sanz, and Stafford (2005:150–151) cite a number of studies which demonstrate that “late L2 learning negatively affects the learning and/or processing of grammar . . . while leaving lexical accretion and lexical-conceptual processing relatively intact.” The way that adults learn is also different: as Ullman (2005) points out, adult learners 102 chapter five memorize material about which younger learners are able to generalize. This seems to be reflected in imaging studies that suggest processing for later-learned languages requires more effort. While monolinguals and bi/multilinguals use similar neural circuitry when acquiring (Abutalebi, Tettamanti, and Perani 2009) and interpreting (Abutalebi and Green 2007, Saura et al. 2009) language, later-learned languages produce greater activation of neural circuits even when language proficiency is controlled for. Research by Bialystok et al. (2004) suggests this may be partially due to the need to suppress earlier-learned languages. Research on particular linguistic structures has shown that the processing of number, gender, and case agreement (Wartenburger et al. 2003), lexical exceptions (Hernandez, Hofmann, and Kotz 2007), and word order (Saura et al. 2009) is influenced by the age at which a language is acquired. Age is an especially good predictor of attainment with respect to phonology (e.g., Flege, Yeni-Komshian and Liu 1999; Piske, Mackay, and Flege 2001; Tahta, Wood, and Loewenthal 1981) because motor learning is “subject to early critical period effects” (Ullman 2005).2 Additionally, the ability of mature speakers to rapidly process and accurately categorize the sounds of their native language(s) limits the accuracy of phonetic perception (Strange and Shafer 2008). Age is also a good diagnostic for the acquisition of inflectional morphology. For example, discussing both Dutch and English, Booij (1996:n.p.) mentions that evidence for children learning their first languages, indicates inherent inflection [e.g., which marks nominal number, degree for adjectives, and verbal tense and aspect] “has a certain priority over contextual inflection” [e.g., which marks person and number for verbs, adjectival agreement, and structural case]. In addition to the linguistic evidence provided by the Negerhollands phonological system and Virgin Islands Dutch Creole plural marking discussed in chapters 7 and 8, the demographic evidence for the Danish colony discussed in Chapter 3, indicates that age of arrival was among the factors that shaped Negerhollands. To those data we can add the limited evidence available from age distributions on the transatlantic crossings. These data are available for only seven of the fifty-three ships that carried Africans to the Danish colony between 1673 and 1700. Table 11 displays the percentage of children arriving in St. Thomas for these seven voyages. It is not known how many of these children remained in the colony or what percentage of the total number of those transshipped to the colony

2 J. Chambers (2003) discusses similar evidence for dialect learning. language learning and situational constraints 103 remained on St. Thomas. Nevertheless, the proportion of adults to children is suggestive. Not only do the data demonstrate a decided preference for adults, it can be assumed that this preference was even stronger during the early settlement years when requirements of infrastructure building were most urgent. Given the groups involved in the transshipment of Africans to the Danish colony, available evidence indicates a preponderance of (New) Kwa-speaking, adult language learning during the early decades of the colony’s history when the ratio of Africans to Europeans was lowest. Table 11 reveals a general increase in the percentage of children transshipped to St. Thomas over time. This may be partially responsible for a parallel decrease in the ratio of Afro-Caribbean adults to children shown in Table 12. The earliest available evidence indicates that seven years after the arrival of the first Africans, 80 percent of the enslaved population were adults. The percent of adults steadily decreases until 1715, just before St. John is settled. However, even though children were enslaved in the colony, their role in the creation of Negerhollands seems to be mitigated by a number of demographic factors. Access to speakers of Germanic language is one such factor. As indicated in Chapter 3, in 1680 only 2 percent of the colony’s population were enslaved children with direct access to speakers of European languages. Although by 1688, children comprise 51 percent of Afro-Caribbean persons living in households with Europe- ans, they are only 15 percent of the larger Afro-Caribbean community.

Table 11. African children arriving in St. Thomas 1692–1700 (data from Eltis et al. 1999)3 Ship Registry Year of Arrival Percent Children Marschall Dörfling Brandenburg 1692 10 Frederik Wilhelm Brandenburg 1693 14 Frederik III Brandenburg 1694 14 Churprincessen Brandenburg 1694 12 Kobenhaven Bors Danish 1698 22 Christanus Quartus Danish 1699 15 Fredericus Quartus Danish 1700 20

3 It is not possible to determine the ages of these children. A 1792 report from St. Croix describes children as those under 15 years of age (N. Hall 1992:74, n 33). 104 chapter five

Table 12. The St. Thomas Afro-Caribbean population 1680–1691 Afro-Caribbean Population 1680 1688 1691 Total number of children 35 90 1113 Children in mixed households 3 47 44 Children in mixed households/Afro-Caribbean 9% 51% 4% children Total population 175 314 2883 Children/total population 20% 24% 35% Children in mixed households/total population 2% 15% 2%

More importantly, four years later, the percentage of Afro-Caribbean children living in households with direct access to speakers of European languages is reduced to 2 percent of the Afro-Caribbean population. In contrast, at this time 37 percent of the Afro-Caribbean population were children without direct access to speakers of Germanic languages. Unfortunately, available records do not reveal what proportion of the children had already developed command of one or more (New) Kwa languages when they arrived on St. Thomas or how old they were when they arrived. Nevertheless, because, as Labov (2010: n.p.) illustrates, children “quickly” adapt to the language of their communities, it can be assumed that African children, like their Afro-Caribbean peers acquired forms that emerged as (New) Kwa-speaking adults adjusted the input they encountered to the constraints of their existing language systems. Like the Tok Pisin-speaking children described by G. Sankoff and Laberge (1980), and as has been demonstrated for language change more generally, the Afro- Caribbean children in St. Thomas extended patterns already established by the adults in their community. The demonstrated preponderance of adults is not predictive of early target-like learning of the lexifiers. It is, however, consistent with the persistence of (New) Kwa features and the remodeling of Germanic input. It is also consistent with the preponderance of nouns and verbs in the small Negerhollands vocabulary that derives from Ibero-Romance with derive from two likely sources: a Portuguese Pidgin in use in the Danish forts and/or a contact variety of Dutch. Between the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries, Portugal’s exploration and colonization resulted in an infusion of vocabulary into Portuguese from South America, Africa, and Asia. There was additional lexical borrowing from Castilian between 1580 and 1640 when Castile and Portugal were united under the Iberian Union. De Marees (1987) documents the language learning and situational constraints 105 following words derived from Portuguese on the Gold Coast at the beginning of the seventeenth century: apatta ‘duck’, bakove4 ‘banana’, blanke ‘white man’, cabrito ‘sheep’, patates ~ matate ‘yam like tuber’, and stiver ‘monetary unit’.5 These occur in the twentieth-century Negerhollands data as /patpat/ ‘duck’, [bakoba] ~ [bakuba], [blaŋko] ~ [blaŋku] ‘Cauca- sian’, [batat(a)] ~ [batɛta] ~ [bateta] ~ [batita] ~ [patitʌ] ‘potato’, kabrita ‘goat’,6 and [stibo] ~ [stibu] ‘money’. Additionally, Portuguese Pidgin was “the dominant European lingua franca: spoken . . . in the Dutch and Danish forts until the 1730s (Hernæs 2002, Feinberg 1989, Goodman 1987, Thornton 1992). Since, as discussed in the following chapter, even at the beginning adult learners can “communicate with one-constituent utterances denoting activities and objects . . . structured in terms of topic-focus patterns . . .” ( Jordens 1997:291, citing Perdue 1996), individual words learned by Africans held captive in the Danish fort could have entered into the contact variety emerging on St. Thomas. Alternatively, pointing to the existence of cognates of Negerhollands [batat(a)], etc.,7 /kabrita/, /kuri/ ‘run’, /mata/ ‘kill’, and [muči] ~ [muši] ‘much, many’ in Caribbean French lexicon creoles, Philip Baker (p.c., 11/24/1996 and 11/26/1996) speculates the contact variety Baragouin may have been a source for some of the Negerhollands Ibero-Romance lexicon as “[t]he Dutch had plenty of reason to communicate with Caribs in the first half of the 17th century”. Negerhollands /kabai/ ‘horse’, which also is documented in Delaware Pidgin, (Goddard 1997) provides additional evidence for a Dutch contact variety as a source the Negerhollands Ibero- Romance vocabulary whether from Baragouin or as a result of an infusion of Ibero-Romance vocabulary into Dutch when the Netherlands wrested control of Portuguese trade on the West African coast during the 1640s.

4 A reflex of Portuguese pacova which is itself a reflex of Tupi pacona. 5 According to S.-D. Brown (1983) this referred to a West Indian six cent coin, the stüber. 6 In their translation of de Marees (1602) Van Dantzig and Jones (1987) indicate that seventeenth century non-Portugese found it difficult to differentiate sheep and goats since, as in the Caribbean, the climate discouraged wool growth. 7 P. Roberts (2008) identifies Taino as the source for batata. 106 chapter five

5.2 Trauma and Anxiety

Like aging, culture shock negatively impacts language learning (Gass and Selinker 2001). Although little researched with respect to language learning, physical wellness is also a factor in language learning since, as in other domains, psychological and physical states influence cognitive functioning and thus learning success. For these reasons, culture shock, and physical/mental health can be assumed to have an important role in creole genesis. When first captured or sold into slavery, Africans suffered separation and loss. Postma (2003:20) characterizes the march to the coast as taking place under “clouds of uncertainty” that, according to Lovejoy (2000:22), were characterized by “[d]eath and permanent physical damage” due to “drought, famine, epidemic and physical duress” (Rawley and Behrendt 2005:249). Gueye (1978:153, 154, referencing de Pommegorge 1789) provides horrific detail: [Captives] were chained together in groups of four to twelve and made to carry loads weighing between forty and fifty pounds . . . so that sheer exhaustion would rob them of any desire to escape. . . . They were given just enough food to keep them going from one stage to the next. . . . Those who could not keep up were driven with whips, and those who could not go on . . . would be slain in cold blood in front of their terrified companions, their bodies left to the wild beasts. As late as 1805, only two years before the Danish slave trade was abolished, a Danish chaplain describes people who “arrived on the coast with terribly swollen arms having had a heavy block tied to them (Debrunner 1956, citing Monrad whose publication information is not included). Boyer (2010:19) describes “the wretchedness and misery” of the depressed and terrorized captives held in the Danish forts. Those who survived forced marches, exhaustion and hunger, exposure to disease, and ill treatment were confronted with invasive physical examinations and sometimes branding. Equiano (1789:70) describes his initial terror at encountering a slave ship: The first object which saluted my eyes when I arrived on the coast was the sea, and a slave ship which was then riding at anchor. . . . Th[is] filled with me with astonishment, which was soon converted into terror when I was carried on board. I was immediately handled and tossed up to see if I were sound by the crew; and I was now persuaded that I had gotten into a world of bad spirits, and that they were going to kill me. Their complexions too differing so much from ours, their long hair and the language they spoke, language learning and situational constraints 107

(which was very different from any I had ever heard) united to confirm me in this belief. Indeed such were the horrors of my views and fears at the moment that, if ten thousands worlds had been my own, I would have freely parted with them all to have exchanged my condition with that of the mean- est slave in my own country. When I looked round the ship too and saw a large furnace or copper boiling, and a multitude of black people of every description chained together, every one of their countenances expressing dejection and sorrow, I no longer doubted of my fate; and quite overpow- ered with horror and anguish, I fell motionless to the deck and fainted. Although suffering was widespread on transatlantic crossings, Eltis (2007) reports that Africans endured far worse conditions than Europeans. Once boarded, in addition to fear of the unknown, Africans faced additional brutalities and privations during the transatlantic crossing. Boyer (2010:19) writes of the “poor sanitation, and ventilation, bad water and foul food[,] . . . disease and epidemics” on Danish ships. Many died; some found their situations so hopeless that they committed suicide (Equiano 1789, Rawley and Behrendt 2005, Page 1997). Occasionally, Africans were able to fight back. Crowley and Mannix (1994:104) point to mutinies as evidence that Africans resisted being “carried across the Atlantic like chained beasts.” An insurrection is documented on a ship destined for the Dan- ish colony in 1683 (Eltis et al. 1999), and Highfield (2009:87) reports that there were “at least seven” mutinies on Danish ships in the eighteenth century. Rawley and Behrendt (2005) estimates the death toll for the Atlantic slave trade overall at about 14 percent. Eltis’s (2007) estimation is a bit lower at between 12 and 13 percent. During the period when Negerhol- lands was being vernacularized, the death rate on 37 known Brandenberg voyages was 18 percent. Conditions on Danish ships were more difficult. This is especially the case as the ships came to carry larger human cargos. Data on death rates are available for seven Danish ships that delivered Africans to St. Thomas during the seventeenth century. As Table 13 reveals, the overall death rate on these ships was 37 percent. Those who survived the horrors of the Atlantic crossing were in ter- rible physical and mental condition (P. Roberts 2008). Once landed, they entered a world in which “slave markets, accultur[ation], and the horrific death rates by disease” impacted Africans’ resilience, will power, and self-confidence (Walvin 1983:112). Many succumbed to depression (Rawley and Behrendt 2005). Although interaction with Europeans increased with landing—especially in the early years when holdings were small—the mental and physical condition of many who arrived in the Danish colony 108 chapter five

Table 13. Deaths on seventeenth-century Danish transatlantic crossings (data from Nørregård 1966, Gøbel 1983, Eltis et al. 1999, Westergård 1917, and the Voyages Database 2009) Year of Arrival Ship Persons Deaths Percent Boarded Lost 1687 Prinz Ludwig 100 20 20% 1687 Wapen 100 20 20% 1688 Name unknown 250 50 20% 1696 Gyldenlörwe 243 48 20% 1698 Kobenhaven Bors 506 226 45% 1688 Christanus Quartus 521 168 32% 1700 Fredericus Quartus 542 304 56% Total deaths 2,262 836 37% severely limited their ability to survive, let alone learn the languages of those who held them as captives. Alleyne (2005:108) writes of the “extreme personal angst” of those who were enslaved in the Caribbean. Like eighteenth-century Afro-Virginians whose interactions with Euro-Virginians “induced involuntary behaviors” (D. Chambers 1996:115), those who were enslaved in the Danish colony are reported to “tremble and shake every time they [were] called and asked to do something” (Carstens 1997:54). Such anxiety also had a profound effect on language learning and hence on creole genesis in the colony because early language learning requires substantial “cognitive processing and working memory” (VanPatten 2008:116), and competition for cognitive resources inhibits learners’ ability to direct attention to input (e.g., Abutalebi, Tettamanti, and Perani 2009, referencing Abutalebi and Green 2007; Horowitz, Horowitz, and Cope 1986; Krashen 1981; Smiley and Salsberry 2007; Tomlin and Villa 1994). A study by Khan and Zafar (2010) illustrates just how sensitive language learning is to anxiety. They report that even the introduction of a video camera during a vocabulary building activity arouses sufficient anxiety to limit learning. Anxiety also affects restructuring (Leow and Bowles 2005, M. Long 1996) because although attentional demands decrease as learning progresses, attention to utterance form is needed to achieve target-like performance in later stages of learning (e.g., Gass 1988; Gass et al. 1999; R. Schmidt 1990, 1993; R. Schmidt and Frota 1986; Steinberg and Horowitz 1968). Since Negerhollands was vernacularized during the early years of settlement, “when slavery assumed its most brutal form” (Tyson and Highfield 1994:xiv), trauma and anxiety were important factors in creole genesis, language learning and situational constraints 109 especially during the early, effortful period of language learning. For those who survived dislocation, overwork, dietary inadequacy and periodic starvation, inadequate housing, disease, generalized stress, and psychological, sexual, and physical brutality not only impacted longevity, they also shaped creole genesis since these factors posed challenges for language learning during the first decade and a half of settlement.

5.3 Aptitude and Multilingualism

Both an aptitude for language learning and multilingualism are associated with learning success. Aptitude, variously measured, is reported to be the strongest predictor of successful instructed learning (Gass and Selinker 2001) and “one of the most important variables” for phonological learning (Ioup 2008:53). Although admittedly, evidence on the effect of bi/ multilingualism on additional language learning is mixed (e.g., Gass and Selinker 2001, Hu 2009), studies by Cenoz (2003), Grosjean (1982), Kovács and Mehler (2009), Leung Yan Kit (2005), Paradis and Genesse (1996), and Sanz (2000) reveal that speakers of more than one language have better memories, a greater awareness of how language works, and better visual- spatial skills (Bialystok 2001, Peal and Lambert 1962, Hu 2009, Ricciardelli 1989, van Gelderen et al. 2004). Multilinguals have also been shown to have more highly developed interactional skills than monolinguals (Goetz 2003) and to be more mentally flexible (Bowden, Sanz, and Stafford 2005, Diaz 1983, 1985). Like many cognitive characteristics, aptitude for language learning is normally distributed in the human population. No seventeenth-century data for language learning aptitude exist for the Danish West Indies; however, in the mid-eighteenth century, Oldendorp describes Africans’ “general aptness for learning languages” (Arends 2004:174, translating Oldendorp 2000:671). Thus, it can be assumed that, aptitude was at least normally distributed among Africans in the Danish colony. It is likely, however, that language learning was enhanced by multilingualism since as Trudell (2009: paragraph 6) observes, “multilingualism has always been seen as a resource in African societies” and many of the Africans whom Oldendorp interviewed spoke several languages. For example, a man who lived “only one day’s journey from the Danish fort” reported speaking “the language of the Amina, and understood the language of nine other peoples (S.-D. Brown 1983:47, translating Oldendorp). LaCharité (2007:161), mentioning specifically the Ga and the Akan, makes 110 chapter five a similar point. Based on evidence of widespread multilingualism both historically and contemporaneously, she writes that it is reasonable “to conclude that Africans were (and are) particularly good second language learners, inclined to regard non maternal language as a tool that is readily taken up to meet the demands of the situation.” Case histories presented by Bobda and Mbouya (2005:2128–2130) illustrate the accuracy of this observation. They describe six “typical” case studies—people who learned between four and twelve languages. West African socialization practices also predict learning success in the Danish colony. For example, Holm (1988:16, referencing “a 1659 document” cited by Goodman 1964:104) reports that Africans in the mid-seventeenth century were described as “attentive observers who rapidly familiarized themselves with the language of the Europeans.” A review of the literature on culture and learning style also suggests effective African socialization practices: as a group African Americans are more likely than European Americans to respond to people (rather than to objects) and to learn inferentially (Irvine and York 1995). If these preferences were widespread historically, they would have provided a learning advantage to Africans transshipped to the Danish colony. The ability to remember linguistic elements facilitates language learning Becker (1991, cited in Gass and Selinker, 2001). Since oral societies encourage the development of “strategies for learning, preservation, and appropriate use of oral texts” and since oral societies encourage attention to the nuances of communicative events (Owomoyela 1985:5), the oral cultures of those transshipped to St. Thomas also likely have provided a learning advantage. Unlike the effect of age, and of trauma and anxiety, an African propensity for multilingualism raises the possibility of early target-like learning in the Danish colony. The question remains, however, was this advantage sufficient to overcome situational barriers to language learning. When added to the discussion above, the remaining sections suggest it was not.

5.4 Intentionality and Investment

Like the aforementioned variables, learners’ intentions and the effort they invest in language learning correlate with ultimate attainment. Thinking about these variables began with the construct of motivation. Gardner’s (1988) sociocultural model, which continues to influence thinking about additional language learning, identified motivation as the “persistent and language learning and situational constraints 111 consistent expenditure of effort.” Although Gardner writes that “only 16 percent of the variance in second language proficiency is common to atti- tudinal/motivational characteristics” (139), motivation is often identified as a predictor of target-like learning (e.g., Gass and Selinker 2001, Siegel 2008). In order to come to terms with the “complex social histor[ies] and multiple desires” of language learners and the “frequently inequitable social structures” that they negotiate, Peirce (1995:9, 13) has called for reconceptualizing motivation as investment. Her study of highly invested, adult learners of English demonstrates a range of strategies learners use to “obtain a wider range of symbolic and material resources” (17). Lamb’s (2000) study of 16 English learners in a developing country demonstrates the high degree of personal investment that is necessary for success when native-speaker input is scarce. The literature on additional language learning increasingly appreciates that learning occurs without “unidirectional identification with target language culture” (Nero 2005:204; see also Gardner and MacIntyre 1991, Kachru 1994, Peirce 1995). Additionally, it is recognized that an excessive desire to belong can result in fear of rejection. This in turn heightens anxiety, inhibiting comprehension and attention to form. Nevertheless, the investment associated with identification with a target group and the perception that its boundaries are permeable (Giles and J. Byrne 1982) has received considerable attention: researchers frequently report a relationship between an integrative orientation and learning success. For example, Hansen (1995:313) observes, “approximating native-like phonation is the best possible way of showing solidarity with the target language group.” Bongaerts’s (1999) study of university-aged Dutch learners of French and English also reveals that learners perceived as native-like were also highly motivated. Although much less frequently reported in the literature, investment for instrumental purposes (i.e., learning to achieve a goal regardless of one’s feelings about the native speaker community) also leads to language learning. However, a desire to avoid native speakers and/or a perception that their group boundaries are impermeable is often associated with limited language learning. Schumann’s (1978) classic study illustrates the effect of low investment. One of Schumann’s research participants, an adult, native speaker of Span- ish identified as Alberto, had studied English for six years prior to coming the United States. Nevertheless, despite his prior knowledge of English, Alberto’s learning progressed at a substantially slower rate than that of 112 chapter five other study participants. Schumann attributed this to the distance from English speakers and from American culture that Alberto maintained. Steinmüller (1994) reports a similar outcome for 130 Turkish seventh grad- ers living in Germany. Those students whose families avoided interaction with the host culture, and who rejected its values had less learning success than their peers whose families had a positive attitude. Along the same lines, Gardner, Lalonde, and Moorcroft (1985) report that vocabulary learning occurs more slowly for less integratively invested learners. Looking at adult language learning from the perspective of cultural preservation, Leets and Giles (1995) observe that strong ingroup networks, a sense of injustice, and negative interactions with target language speakers inhibit learning. Nero (2005) also points to the positive relationship between the maintenance of linguistic distinctiveness and identity. In the Danish West Indies, speakers of African languages faced cultural displacement, physical, psychological, and sexual abuse, overwork, and undernourishment. To survive in the Danish colony, speakers of African languages had to add to their existing linguistic resources. Some chose not to survive. Since escape was “frequent” (Boyer 2010:31), others are likely to have learned in order to survive long enough to escape. A few may have been positively oriented toward Western culture and accepting of West- ern linguistic ideology. However, the psychosocial distance engendered by brutality and cultural clash and the roles that legal status and physiology played in the colony’s social hierarchy make it difficult to imagine that most Africans sought opportunities for integration. Rather, because the identities encoded by the available linguistic targets were inappropriate and, in many cases, detestable, a new target emerged (Luján, Minaya, and D. Sankoff 1984, N. Smith 2006). What is known about the initial contact setting (see Chapter 3) predicts that most chose to embrace the language emerging in the Afro-Caribbean community.

5.5 Sex

For native speakers of English male/female differences in verbal ability are not significant (Hyde and Linn 1988). However, research points to a female advantage in early additional language learning for tasks that require verbal and declarative memory (Bowden, Sanz, and Stafford, 2005; Ullman 2005) which appears to be enhanced by estrogen (Sanz 2005, Ull- man 2005:148). For example, Bowden, Sanz and Stafford (2005:111) cite several studies that indicate “a higher achievement for females on most language learning and situational constraints 113 tests.” Lin (2003) reports that the female learners of English as a foreign language whom he studied were more likely to accommodate phonologi- cally than were their male counterparts. A study by Slavoff and J. John- son (1995) of 107 Asian children aged 7–12 at arrival who were learning English in an immersion setting provides similar results for syntax and inflectional morphology. In the Danish West Indies, African males predominated among those who were enslaved with “unnatural sex ratios” persisting until the 1740s (N. Hall 1992:84). Hall attributes this to a belief that males were better agricultural workers and to a “buy rather than breed” policy (4). The proportion of females to males in the early decades is particularly suggestive. In 1680, the ratio of enslaved adult females to enslaved adult males in the colony was 0.66:1 decreasing slightly to 0.57:1 by 1688. However, in households containing both Europeans and Africans, the ratio of enslaved adult females to enslaved adult males was initially lower: in 1680 there were 0.38 females to each male. By 1688 the ratio of females to males in these households increased to 0.6:1. Given a female advantage in early language learning, the sex imbalance in the colony’s Afro-Caribbean population is predictive of early learning challenges.

5.6 Summary

There are no seventeenth-century Negerhollands data. As a result, we must infer from situational variables how Africans and their descendants coped with linguistic contact. The previous discussion indicates that, although predisposed to language learning, many who arrived in the colony were incapacitated by the trauma of their capture and transshipment. Once bound to Euro-Caribbean households in the Danish West Indies, Africans, many of them adult males, encountered physical and psychosocial obstacles that further limited language learning. Moreover, as discussed in Chapter 2, the conditions of their enslavement engendered resentment limiting investment and creating a desire for linguistic distinctiveness. These factors imply that during the decade and a half it took to achieve population stability those who negotiated common solutions to communicative challenges achieved only the initial, effortful stages of language learning. The here-and-now nature of linguistic contact and the demands of the communication context were such that, like the Taino-European contact described by P. Roberts (2008:99), initially there was “substantial instability and idiosyncrasy” as newly landed Africans, isolated in European 114 chapter five households, struggled on their own. Later arrivals, who were domiciled with surviving members of the first cohort, had the benefit of a linguistic buffer between themselves and those who exploited them. Those who did not resist language learning achieved, during the course of their days and nights “composite pragmatic bilingualism” (Sridhar 1994:802): they learned no more than was needed, and often what they needed was another African language. Thus the first generation of locally born, Afro-Caribbean children encountered a variety of (New) Kwa languages and a developing language system with a greater affinity to (New) Kwa than to Germanic, a characteristic that as chapters 7 through 9 demonstrate, Negerhollands speakers retained into the twentieth century. Because language learners negotiate their communication strategies in specific contexts, social relations crucially determine the nature and frequency of interaction (e.g., Bourdieu 1977, Holmes and Kerswill 2008, G. Sankoff 1980). Chapter 6 builds on the argument developed here by examining the emergence of Negerhollands from an interactional perspective. Chapter six

Deploying Linguistic Resources

In front dog, ‘tis Mr. Dog; behind ‘tis dog. (Virgin Islands proverb)

6.0 Introduction

The world view that motivated European colonial expansion was powerful, and restrictions on those they enslaved were enforced with death and life-threatening brutality. These restrictions included when and with whom enslaved persons could speak, and what they could say, as illustrated by the following story: An agricultural worker was overheard by “his master” to say “mo rain, mo res” ‘more rain, more rest’ in response to an impending shower. The master asked him to repeat the comment. Know- ing, the planter’s reaction would be negative, the quick-thinking worker transformed the comment into “Mo rain, mo gras fo masa hos” ‘more rain, more grass for master’s horse’ (Language Department, n.d.:28). Although such counter discourse was both difficult and dangerous to enact, counter discourses were established throughout the Caribbean as subaltern agency mediated colonization’s exploitive conditions. Because resistance engenders repression, which then provokes increased resistance, the colonial environment resulted in social and psychological distance between groups that was “far more extreme than in the case of present-day migrant workers or learners of foreign languages in school” (Christie 1983:15). Throughout the Caribbean, conflicting world views, cultural practices, needs, desires, and goals led to the articulation of communal identities and the emergence and maintenance of distinctive Afro-Caribbean vernaculars. The exchange described above was not documented in the Danish West Indies, but it might have been, given the racially based climate of oppression that emerged on St. Thomas a year after permanent settlement. The arrival of the first cohort of 103 Africans in 1673 set in motion cultural contact that played out in what would become the colony’s linguistically heterogeneous Afro-Caribbean and Euro-Caribbean communities. Focusing not on language, but on the people who speak it, the approach taken here recognizes the central role of speaker agency—even in settings 116 chapter six characterized by extreme duress. Like all languages, those in the Carib- bean emerged as a result of the interactions of individuals as they negotiated group membership. Under chattel slavery, many had reason to avoid interacting with those who enslaved them, and thus “had neither the need nor the inclination to fully acquire” the language of a more overtly powerful group (McWhorter 2005:245; see also Migge and Smith 2007, N. Smith 2006). From this perspective, creole genesis began with speakers of African languages retaining much of what they already knew, acquiring, to a greater or lesser extent,1 only what they needed to augment their existing resources– what Schneider (2007:22) describes as “light contact.” At first Africans associated themselves with networks which had access to “a discontinuous pool of linguistic material in the collective (but not [necessarily] shared) minds of the individuals involved” (Hancock 1988:9). Negotiations of the appropriate mappings of form, meaning, and circum- stance reflected strategic language use that began in these networks and continued with the emergence of the St. Thomas Afro-Caribbean community. The result came to be called Negerhollands ‘slave Dutch’. An understanding of these negotiations emerges from consideration of the ways in which language users responded to situationally specific opportunities and pressures. In particular, it is important to ask who cooperated with whom and whose desires were met with resistance. It is also important to reflect on how the resulting community dynamic impacted language learning in terms of what Second Language Acquisi- tion researchers describe as input, input negotiation, input processing, and output. Doing so reveals much about the influence of heritage languages on Negerhollands.

6.1 Input

The language that language learners encounter is discussed as input in the Second Language Acquisition literature. Input that increases saliency while retaining structural integrity, as when delivery is slower, louder, or more careful than normal, is helpful to learners (e.g, Gass and Selinker, 2001, Gass and Varonis 1994, Mackey and Gass 2006, Wong 2003, Zuengler 1992). Neergård (2009) reports data from an experimental study

1 Language learning is never completely isomorphic. Even smooth transgenerational transmission in monolinugal settings is characterized by innovation and loss. deploying linguistic resources 117 that illustrates this: Japanese speakers with little knowledge of English who watched and listened to slow, exaggerated pronunciations of English [l] and [r] improved their ability to discriminate and pronounce these sounds. Bongaerts (1999) also demonstrates the effectiveness of elaborated input with respect to pronunciation. Braidi (1995) points out that the more variants learners encounter, the more complicated is the learning task. Thus even well-formed input, if it is highly variable, poses challenges for learners. Although Kowenberg (2001) and Wekker (1996) raise the issue of variability in creole genesis, most discussions of particular colonies crudely operationalize input in terms of the ratio of Africans to speakers of European languages coded as blacks to whites. Such an approach has limited usefulness in the case of linguistically heterogeneous St. Thomas, where input produced by speakers of Germanic languages must have seemed particularly chaotic given the partial similarity of many Danish, Dutch, and English forms. The Neg- erhollands forms for ‘all’ illustrate this nicely. They are /al/, /alda/, /alga/, /alma(l)/, and /almʌ/. The input for /al/ is English all, Danish alle, and Zeeuwese a(l). It may also be a reduced form of alda/alga/alma. Negerhol- lands /alma/ is a reflex of Dutch and Zeeuwese allemaal. Dutch algadere seems to be the input for both /alga/ and /alda/. (See Chapter 7 for additional examples.) Efforts to increase saliency can also result in incomplete or distorted input; for example, when grammatical elements such as articles, prepositions, tense markers, and copulas are omitted. This can impede learning (Gass and Varonis 1994). Input degradation often reflects native speakers’ assumptions of learners’ incompetence (Nida 1971). However, because it diminishes autonomy in a target-language culture, input degradation also functions as a mechanism of social control. It may be that Bloomfield (1933:472) has both of these points in mind when he offers “baby-talk” as a factor in the creation of creole languages. Ferguson (1971), Ferguson and DeBose (1977), R. Hall (1966), and Siegel (2001) also consider the adverse influence of degraded input in language contact. The degree to which speakers of Danish, Dutch and English intentionally provided degraded input to the Africans whose lives they attempted to control is not recorded. However, given that there were both native and nonnative speakers of (New) Kwa and Germanic languages on Thomas, there is no doubt that input in this contact setting included elements and structures that did not belong to the languages of either group. Although the colony was regulated by the Danish crown, the Danish Vestindisk-guineisk 118 chapter six

Kompagnie was capitalized in Amsterdam; thus competition among European languages emerged at the very beginning of settlement. Danish and Dutch appear in official documents, and, in the early years, Danish children (and presumably other Euro-Caribbean children as well) were educated in the Dutch Reform school (N. Hall 1992). As a result, a contact variety of Dutch emerged in the colony. Moreover, many households contained individuals from more than one European nation. For example, 44 percent of the households for which nationality was identified in the 1688 Land Lister were multilingual. In fact, it can be assumed that multilingualism was the norm in the colony–a situation that continued well into the eighteenth century: Oldendorp (1777:263, trans. den Besten et al. 1996:37) identifies linguistic heterogeneity as “the cause of people mixing one with the others, as well as for speaking many languages, though none well nor with purity.” Thus, there is evidence that the Germanic language input which Africans encountered was highly variable. How linguistically heterogeneous the cohorts of Africans to arrive in St. Thomas were and how many (New) Kwa languages they shared is unknown. However, although we have only a few first person accounts, there is evidence of Africans in the New World retaining heritage languages. For example, Sensbach (2005:146) reproduces a 1739 letter written “or dictated” in Fon by a woman living in St. Thomas. Examination of advertisements for individuals who escaped their enslavement in the Baha- mas (Sabino 2000) and Virginia (Mullin 1992) also reveal multilingualism. Mullin mentions a Chamba woman who spoke Mungola ‘well’ and English ‘very well’ after twelve months and a Mandingo woman who after five months spoke “sufficient Cormantee and English to be ‘understood’ ” (381). He also describes a woman “whose speech revealed her to be an African ‘although she has been here from her youth’ ” (30–31). Thus, it can be assumed that learners encountered variable input composed of native versions and nonnative approximations of (New) Kwa languages. The nature of the input Africans encountered is important to understanding creole genesis because there exists a relationship between frequency and language learning that has been recognized since the 1970s. In fact, frequency is reported for some learners to be the principal deter- minant of the order in which grammatical morphemes are acquired (e.g., Goldschneider and DeKeyser 2001, Jia 2003, Larsen-Freeman 1976, 1983). Vermeer (2001) reports that input frequency was strongly related to the probability of knowing a word for both L1 and L2 Dutch-speaking children in the early stages of learning. Research on first language learning, docu- deploying linguistic resources 119 ment frequency effects for babbling and for the learning of phonemes and of syllable structure (Yoneyama, Beckman, and Edwards 2011, and the references therein). Researchers exploring this relationship understand grammar as a collection of schema abstracted from the “proximity and frequency” (Kretz- schmar 2008:338) of words, collocations, and phrases that accumulate throughout a speaker’s “entire history of language use” (N. Ellis 2006:112). (See also Bybee and Hooper 2001, N. Ellis 2002, Heine 1997, Heine, Claudi, and Hünnermeyer 1991.) Both recently used and highly frequent schema receive more activation from the same input than do less recently used and less frequent schema. Since function words and bound morphemes often lack perceptual salience, as VanPatten (2008) points out, frequency interacts with redundancy and the learner preference for lexical items. Siegel (2008) provides a particularly accessible discussion of this relationship. Other variables that interact with frequency include individual differences, native language, attention, task, salience, sex, and age. Initially, Africans bound to individual households on St. Thomas were relatively isolated. However, as slave holding increased, newly landed Afri- cans were assigned to live with countrymen or -women until they could establish their own provision grounds and “learn the Creole language” (Oldendorp 1987:220). From the planters’ perspective, this decreased the material support they had to provide for new arrivals and facilitated acculturation. However, despite planters’ intentions, while language teaching/ learning that enhanced survival no doubt went on, there is no evidence that these were primary activities. Rather, as Le Page (1977:238) suggests, portions of the input that were “of more general application and more frequent occurrence, [were] likely [emphasis added] to survive.” Bertoncini (1973, cited in Heine, Claudi, and Hünnermeyer 1991:39) provides a particularly relevant example of this. She indicates that all of the words that were grammaticalized in Swahili were found among those with the “highest text frequency.” Observations by Kuhl (2004) and Labov (2010: n.p.) about the role that “cultural configurations” play in identifying the features that first language learners select can be added to Le Page’s (1977) insight. Doing so leads to precisely the prediction that emerges in Chapter 2: despite initially low population ratios and external pressure to adopt European/Euro-Caribbean forms, both adult and child learners in the Danish colony selected forms that predominated in the Afro-Caribbean community. 120 chapter six

6.1.1 Input Negotiation Even under favorable conditions, mere exposure to input “rarely” results in target-like learning for learners beyond the age of six or seven (Mackey and Abbuhl 2005:207). What is needed is comprehensible input that is negotiated during meaningful and appropriate interactions with speakers of a linguistic target (e.g., Gass and Varonis 1994, Hansen Edwards 2008, Mackey and Gass 2006, R. Schmidt and Frota 1986, Wagner-Gough and Hatch 1975). Speech acts associated with negotiated interaction and hence with comprehensible input include confirmation checks, comprehension checks, clarification requests, recasts, repetitions, expansions, and topic switches (e.g., Braidi 1995, Gass and Varonis 1994, Mackey 1999, Mackey and Philip 1998, Oliver 2000, Pica and Doughty 1985, Pica et al. 1989). Interaction with native speakers additionally provides opportunities for those who wish to approximate the target to modify their output by focusing on form and sociolinguistic appropriateness (Mackey 1999). Addition- ally, although negotiated input provided by nonnative speakers can result in innovative forms, it facilitates the learning of vocabulary (Loschky 1994) and grammar (Mackey 1999) and improves comprehension (Pica, Young, and Doughty 1987). Oliver’s (2000) discussion contrasting learner’s response rates to input to that which emerged in authority-fronted (i.e., led by the teacher) activities versus during pair-work with peers shows that pair work provided substantially more opportunity for learners to immediately use input than did teacher-led activities during which single speakers were nominated to respond while others sat silently. Whether input is provided by native or nonnative speakers, learner agency is crucial because successful negotiations contribute more to learning than do repairs initiated by those who provide input (Kasper 1985, Shehadeh 1991). For example, Ely (1986) reveals a negative relationship between discomfort in a foreign language class and risk taking: learners who were uncomfortable took fewer risks. This limited their class participation and led to less target-like speech. For negotiation to occur, learners must be willing to speak. Magens (as transcribed by Hale n.d.) provides evidence that effects of discomfort and authority-dominated discourse was far stronger in the Danish colony than those reported by Oliver (2000) and Ely (1986). As revealed by the following excerpt from a dialogue between a woman and her personal attendant, who was without doubt enslaved, those in power produced directives and yes/no questions; those subject to that power listened silently or answered only briefly. There was little negotiation during intergroup communication. deploying linguistic resources 121

(7) Woman: Kik na die skissie die hab daeso. look in the drawer, 3.sg has there ‘look in the drawer, there are some there’ Veeg die spiegel. wipe the mirror wipe the mirror’ hoppo die Venster. open the window ‘open the window’ Die Kap sit fraej na after? the hat sits good loc behind ‘does the hat sit well in the back’ spel die lend na after. pin the ribbon loc behind ‘pin the ribbon in the back’ Die strikkie no ka maek fraej. the bow neg pfv make good’ ‘the bow hasn’t been tied well’ attendant: Ja, nu die bin guet. yes, now 3.sg is good ‘yes, it’s good now’ Woman: Mie no denk die Kap sit regt. i neg think the hat sit right ‘I don’t think the hat sits correctly’ attendant: Die sit gue mooj. 3.sg sits very beautiful ‘it sits very beautifully’ Woman: Wa hemete bin? where shirt is ‘where is the shirt’ attendant: hieso. here ‘here’ Woman: sender no ha plooj die klein genug. 3.sg neg pst fold 3.sg small enough ‘they didn’t fold it tightly enough’ gief mie mie onder-Saja. give 1.sg 1.sg.poss under-skirt’ ‘give me my underskirt’ Wa die gestige kee[ ]s? where the mended skirt2 ‘where is the mended skirt’ gief mei die blau. give 1.sg the blue ‘give me the blue one’

2 I accept Hale’s translation of gestige kee[ ]s but cannot supply the illegible letter. 122 chapter six

Wa mie sak sender bin? where 1.sg.poss bag pl are ‘where are my bags’ gief mie die Japuen. give 1.sg the gown ‘give me the gown’ Wa mie Borsje bin? where 1.sg smock is ‘where is my smock’ Kik as mie Japuen sit glat na after. see if 1.sg gown sits smooth loc behind ‘see if my gown sits smoothly in the back’ hael mie hemete beetje na molee. haul 1.sg shirt bit loc below ‘tug my shirt a little lower’ Da alteveel, mie gloof ju bin sot. that too much, 1.sg believe 2.sg are stupid ‘that’s too much; I think you are stupid’ Ja nu die bin fraej. yes, now 3.sg is good ‘yes, now it’s good’ Wa mie hals neesduk? where 1.sg.poss kerchief ’ ‘where is my kerchief ’ speal die na after. pin 3.sg loc behind ‘pin it in the back’ na wa ju blief mit die spel sender, loc where 2.sg remain with the pin pl ‘where are you with the pins,’ Ju no hoor? 2.sg neg hear’ ‘don’t you hear’ attendant: Mie le kom. 1.sg ipfv come ‘I’m coming’ Woman: Mie gloof 1.sg believe ‘I believe’ Ju wil hav mie sa kom hael Ju. . . . 2.sg want have 1.sg irr come haul 2.sg you would have me come get you . . .’

The capacity to impose reception (Peirce 1995, referencing Bourdieu 1977) is another element that influences the success of input negotiation. That is, learners must have the power to make hearers attend to and process deploying linguistic resources 123 what they are saying. Although members of the colony’s Afro-Caribbean community were not without power, the inequities that characterized the colonial enterprise severely limited their ability to impose reception on the Euro-Caribbean community. Had this not been so, slavery would not have persisted into the nineteenth century, and manumission would have been considerably more frequent than it was. In the example above, the attendant offers only what she anticipates the woman wants to hear. Sensbach (2005) provides an astonishingly brutal illustration of the limited ability of the Euro-Caribbean and Afro-Caribbean communities to impose reception on each other with regard to important matters. In an unsuccessful effort to prevent those whom he had enslaved from meeting with Moravian missionaries, a planter assembled his family to watch him strike the converts in their mouths with their burning Bibles! Opportunities for input negotiation are directly relevant to creole genesis in the Danish colony and throughout the Caribbean. Because they were often in conflict with those who enslaved them, even before there was an Afro-Caribbean community, the St. Thomas African population developed shared goals and objectives, and conversed to achieve them. The talk produced within the emerging Afro-Caribbean community drew on native and nonnative versions of (New) Kwa ethnic languages and Akan lingua francas to great advantage.3 However, when these resources proved insufficient, members of the first cohorts of transported Africans resorted to using to salient material from European languages. Because Africans shared more linguistic resources among themselves than they shared with Europeans and because they had more reason to talk to each other, despite low population ratios, the negotiated input produced by speakers of African languages was considerably greater than that produced by speakers of European languages.

6.1.2 Input Processing The nature of chattel slavery limited the learning of European languages for the first cohorts of Africans landed on St. Thomas. Limited opportunities for input negotiation contributed to this. Equally important was their inability to impose reception on speakers of European languages since the more stressful a situation, the more important the ability to impose reception

3 Meisel (1983) makes an analogous point with respect to talk in foreign language classrooms, remarking that when students meaningfully interact, they use their native languages to do so. 124 chapter six becomes (Loschky 1994). A third factor was their diminished ability to attend to and process available input that arose from the physical and mental stress of capture and transshipment. The absence of native-speaking peers, which limits the oral proficiency of untutored learners (Smiley and Salsberry 2007), the difficult living conditions on St. Thomas, and a hostile learning environment also contributed to the frequent deployment of (New) Kwa linguistic features. Despite these barriers, creole genesis occurred because survival required that Europeans be understood. VanPatten (2008:131) provides a useful summary of how adult learners associate linguistic form and meaning when they are “actively attempting to comprehend input.” Two of the principles he discusses are especially relevant to the effortful, early stages of adult language learning. VanPatten’s Primacy of Content Words Principle accounts for learners’ encoding semantic categories with content morphemes. VanPatten’s Lexical Preference Prin- ciple predicts that when encountering lexical and grammatical alternatives for expressing a meaning, learners initially process the lexical item. These principles provide insight into the replacement of the various plural affixes available in the lexifiers with Negerhollands variants derived from the West Flemish third person plural pronoun sender (Hinskens and van Rossem 1995). They also explain the development of tense, mood, and aspect markers.4 Negerhollands /ka/ encodes perfective aspect and derives from Negerhollands /kaba/ ‘finish(ed)’ which is a reflex of Ibero-Romance acabar ‘finish, use up’. Negerhollands /lo/, a reflex of Dutch lopen ‘walk, run’ and possibly Ibero-Romance logo’ immediately, soon’ (e.g., Alleyne 1980) encodes imperfective aspect and proximate future. Negerhollands /(h)a/ encodes past tense (e.g., Sabino 1986) and is a reflex of Ibero-Romance haber, Dutch had, Danish ha, and English have/had. With respect to word order, VanPatten’s First Noun Principle predicts that early learners interpret the first noun in a clause as its subject. Since Akan, Ewe, and Ga are subject-object-verb (SVO) languages (Dryer 2008), it can be assumed that Negerhollands SVO word order emerged early during the period of effortful input processing that relied on “universal pars- ing strategies,” native language influence, or both (VanPatten 2008:121).

4 Heine, Claudi, and Hünnermeyer (1991:244) indicate that tense and aspect markers so often develop from verbs in the world’s languages “that we are able to state with a high degree of probability that it has also occurred in a given language of which we have no prior documentation.” Chapter 9 discusses evidence for the development of grammaticalization chains associated with /kaba/ and /lo/. deploying linguistic resources 125

The retention of this feature reflects communicative effectiveness since the First Noun Principle soon gives way to the word order of a linguistic target (Siegel 2008) when prompted to do so by real-world experience, lexical semantics, and discourse information (Gass and Selinker 2001).

6.2 Output

Output is the language produced by learners. When learners talk to one another, one person’s output is another’s input. Thus, like input, output was more frequent when Africans spoke with one another. Output was also more fluent because decreased anxiety resulted in an allocation of greater attentional resources for language processing and production. Such allocation is particularly important in early stages of language learning when both processing and production require the greatest amount of effort (e.g., Bialystok et al. 2004, Gass and Selinker 2001, LaCharité 2007, R. Schmidt and Frota 1986). Prior to the mid 1980s, output was acknowledged to be diagnostic of learning; however, output was not thought to be facilitative. Subsequent research identified output as valuable for both first or second language learning. For example, Sénéchal (1997) reports that the vocabulary three- and four-year-olds learned during storybook reading increased from 18 percent for words the children said once to 43 percent for words they spoke three times. With respect to adults, output enhances pronunciation (e.g., Flege, Yeni-Komshian, and Liu 1999), increases vocabulary (R. Ellis and He 1999), and moves learners from semantic processing to syntactic processing (Izumi 2002, Gass and Mackey 2002, Swain 1995). In fact, Swain (1985:249) proposes that, while negotiated input is necessary for the production of target-like grammar, it is not sufficient: output is required if learners are to be “pushed toward the delivery of a message that is not only conveyed but that is conveyed precisely, coherently, and appropriately.”

6.3 Language Emergence in the Afro-Caribbean Community

As previously indicated, the Danish West Indies was linguistically heterogeneous. Circumstances in the Danish colony were such that Europeans did not learn African languages, and for Africans bilingualism with full retention of their heritage languages was not practical in the long term. However, heritage or heritage-like language functions were retained by both the Euro-Caribbean and Afro-Caribbean communities because “social 126 chapter six rules, including language rules, grow out of daily intercourse” (Le Page 1977:238, see also Bourdieu 1977) with communicative successes favoring widely shared heritage-language features and parallel innovations. The colony’s sociocultural context was such that, for the Africans and Europeans alike, ingroup talk provided greater opportunities for input negotiation and processing, and for output than did talk across the social divide. The social divide also created dramatically different learning contexts. The result was two types of interlingual influence that resulted in the emergence of two language varieties: one a colonial contact variety with borrowed creole features, the other a creole in the traditional sense of the term. In an elegantly argued article, Winford (2005, drawing on Van Coetsem 1988, 2000) identifies these two types of interlingual influence as borrowing and imposition. In borrowing, speakers of a recipient language appropriate material from a donor language. Borrowing often does not impact the grammar of the recipient language. This is how Hoch Kreol was created at the beginning of the eighteenth century as members of the Euro-Caribbean community borrowed Negerhollands features to signal their increasingly prosperous colonial identity. During imposition, which plays a “well documented” role in creole genesis (Winford 2005:409), speakers draw on the resources of their dominant language(s) to augment insufficient control of a recipient language. Impo- sition not only results in output that differs considerably from the language produced by native speakers of the recipient language, it impacts recipient language’s structure. This is what occurred during the creation of Negerhollands. When shared languages, genetic relatedness, and areal features were insufficient, Africans augmented their linguistic resources by means of imposition. As shared resources increased, the role played by imposition decreased. It did not disappear, however, since as Jiang (2002) indicates, judgments of semantic relatedness of word pairs by native and non native speakers of English provide “compelling evidence for L1 involvement in lexical processing in L2” (632) even for advanced learners. Within twenty-five years of the colony’s founding, the functionality of shared Negerhollands’s resources superceded the functionality of Afri- can languages for locally born members of the Afro-Caribbean community. Leveling, in which the number of competing individual solutions to communication challenges were (to some degree) resolved at the community level (e.g., Seuren and Wekker 1986, Siegel 2003), contributed to this. Focusing on frequency of interaction during dialect contact, Trudgill (2008:241) argues leveling results from “quasi-automatic accommodation”. Coupland (2008:269) also considers convergence to be the unmarked deploying linguistic resources 127 choice although he observes that the impetus to converge “is resisted in many particular circumstances.” When convergence is not resisted, widely shared forms are more likely to be preserved than forms produced by only a few individuals. Where there are both similarities and differences, as was the case in the (New) Kwa vowel inventories, leveling results in broadly compatible alternatives. Like frequency, prestige influences variant selection. For example, the first-settled generation descended from three previously separate nomadic groups in Labrador selected dialect features of the most prestigious group for the new local variety ( J.K. Chambers 2003:66, citing Clarke 1987, 1988). As a result, language contact results in “an amalgam of selected features” (Trudgill 2008:245; see also Braun 2009, McWhorter 2000, Mufwene 1996, Siegel 2001). We find just this eclecticism in Negerhollands which reveals contributions from a number of European and African languages. Given Kretzschmar’s (2009:253) understanding of a speech community as a complex system composed of a massively parallel sequence of interactions in which features and feature variants . . . are deployed and received by human agents, Gordon and Trudgil’s (1999) findings for New Zealand are also of interest. They report (as discussed in Kretzschmar 2009:211) that dialect leveling among “late first generation or early second generation” resulted in the development of characteristic features of New Zealand speech. This finding resembles the scenario proposed for the emergence of Negerhollands in St. Thomas. However, since it cannot be determined whether the linguistic heterogeneity of the St. Thomas Afri- can/Afro-Caribbean population was greater, the same, or less than that of New Zealand, it might be argued that this provides only an curious parallel. The parallel is substantially strengthened by, Kretzschmar’s interpretation of the rapid emergence of local speech variants as evidence that speech is a complex system. If, as he argues, random interactions result in “emergent order . . . by the second generation” (247), a similar sequence of events is predicted for St. Thomas once the African/Afro-Caribbean population achieved stability.

6.4 Heritage Language Influence

Chaudenson (2003, paraphrased by Valdman 2005:451) argues that “transfer should be invoked only after attempts to relate apparently innovative features to [European languages] has failed.” This working assumption, while it appears to hold for portions of the Francophone world, does not 128 chapter six hold universally. Rather, given the preceding discussion of negotiated input, input processing, and output, (New) Kwa influence emerges as a likely motivation for Negerhollands features. Research on language learning and typology also points to (New) Kwa as the primary source for Negerhollands structural features. For example, although Bardovi-Harlig (2006) demonstrates that the availability of homogeneous input and high motivation result in convergence even for speakers of typologically distinct languages, neither of these conditions obtained in the Danish colony: input was heterogeneous, investment/ motivation was low. Moreover, typological distance also has been shown to inhibit learning (Bialystok 1997, Broselow 1984, Ringbom 1992). Chumbow (1984), working in multilingual settings, takes a sophisticated approach that complicates the issue of interlingual influence during adult language learning. He recognizes a constellation of sociolinguistic factors that determine which of several known languages will most influence learning a linguistic target. Those that are relevant to the Danish colony are 1) typology, 2) the functional roles of the learner’s languages, 3) the learner’s proficiency in them, 4) the “geographical, cultural, or ethnic relations” between the learner and speakers of the target language, and 5) the relative prestige of the learner’s known languages (289). The second, third, and fifth factors are unrecoverable for the Danish West Indies. The fourth factor is discussed in some detail in Chapter 2. Information about the first factor can be gleaned from an estimation of the degree of linguistic heterogeneity in the first cohorts of Africans landed in St. Thomas during the early decades of settlement. Both of these factors point to (New) Kwa influence. The evidence for this is briefly summarized here. With respect to typology, Williamson and Blench (2000:11) identify Niger-Congo, the phylum to which (New) Kwa belongs, as a “true genetic unity.” Three (New) Kwa languages are likely to have been spoken by the first cohorts of Africans landed in St. Thomas: Akan, Ga, and western Gbe. Thus, although they are mutually unintelligible, typological similarities insured that input produced by speakers of these languages required less adjustment to make it comprehensible than input produced by speakers of European languages. Additionally, Wald (2007:203) describes multilingualism as “an old and well-established pattern in sub-Saharan Africa.” Focusing on the transatlantic slave trade, Lovejoy (2003:10) observes that, although Africans transshipped to the New World were drawn from an area in which “at least 50 distinct languages” were spoken, “it is clear that some languages were spoken more widely than others, and that many people spoke more than one language.” For example, Kropp Dakubu (1997) deploying linguistic resources 129 reports that, because Akan was the most important trade language in the area in which the Danish forts were located, the Ga acquired Akan as a second language during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. LaCharité (2007, referencing Lovejoy 2000) makes a similar point with respect to people who were enslaved by the Akan. Because multilinguals are able to build relationships with a wider range of people than monolinguals can, they were more likely to have risen to positions of prestige and influence in the Danish colony. Since, as indicated earlier, prestige is a factor in variant selection, it is quite possible that multilinguals, particularly multilinguals who spoke vehicular varieties like Twi and Fante, had a substantial influence on Negerhollands. With respect to areal features produced by diffusion, Childs (2003:165) discusses a seven-hundred-mile-wide area of “extensive population shift and language contact” stretching from Senegal to the former Slave Coast. Gilman (1986:33) convincingly argues this constitutes a sprachbund “in which many features widespread among Afro-European languages are equally widespread among African languages regardless of their genetic affiliations.” More locally, Anquandah (1982:18) describes contact among the Akan as resulting in a degree of mutual intelligibility among the “Akwapem, Akyem, Asante, Brong, Fante, and Wassa.” Equiano (1789:59) documents how such mutual intelligibility facilitated his movement to the coast. He writes, from the time I left my own nation I always found somebody that understood me til I came to the sea coast. The languages of different nations did not totally differ, nor were they as copious as those of the Europeans, particularly the English. They were therefore easily learned; and, while I was journeying thus through Africa, I acquired two or three different tongues. As a result of these factors, the origin of Negerhollands is complex. West African history points to access to shared linguistic features due to multilingualism, typological similarity, and areal diffusion. Input produced and processed within the Afro-Caribbean community reinforced shared (New) Kwa features such as those listed in Table 14. Additionally, heritage language features interact with processing constraints. For example, Singler (1993) couples the predominantly5 isolating character of African languages with the relative impermeability of inflectional morphology to language shift. Plag (2007, 2008) makes a similar point. Word order, as discussed above, and individual words also illustrate multiple causality. For

5 Akan has two prefixes; Ewe has two suffixes. 130 chapter six

Table 14. Some Negerhollands features influenced by (New) Kwa languages also found in other Atlantic Creoles Features Selected Sources Invariant verb form Hyman 2000 Identity of topicalizer and nominal copula Allyene 1980 Conjunctions derived from Dutch mit ‘with’ and Holm 1988 English and Multiple copulas Alleyne 1980, Greenberg 1966, Holm 1984, Sabino 1988b Periphrastic possession D. Taylor 1971 Phrasal interrogatives D. Taylor 1971 Plural marking See Chapter 8 Semantic extension (e.g., compounds with maro- ‘wild’, Alleyne 1980, -man); hand extends from fingertip to shoulder. Gilman 1986 Serial verb constructions See Chapter 9 Transitive causitives Alleyne 1982 example Negerhollands na has been attributed to Dutch, Ibero-Romance, and African sources (Alleyne 1980, Allsopp 1996, den Besten and van der Voort 1999, Goodman 1987, Muysken 2001).6 The processing of Germanic input and the ubiquitous pressure to embrace enslavement and to cast off African cultural behaviors also influenced the genesis and development of Negerhollands. The clearest illustration of the effect of external pressure is the near absence of (New) Kwa lexical items.7

6.5 Summary

Negerhollands emerged in a multilingual setting in which many Euro- peans and Africans were unable to meet the physical and mental challenges of survival. Focusing primarily on the first decades of settlement, when language learning was most effortful, this chapter has considered

6 The lack of evidence for an early connection between Papiamentu and Negerhollands, discussed in Chapter 3, makes it unlikely that Papiamentu na was the primary source of Negerhollands na as Bruyn and Veenstra (1993) suggest. 7 This absence also illustrates the limited nature of the available data since such words are documented in the St. Thomas/St. John variety of Virgin Islands English Creole. deploying linguistic resources 131 the ways in which those Africans who did survive would have deployed their linguistic resources. Because Africans shared no languages with the colony’s European population, communication challenges were met with some degree of language learning. However, although as Plag (2008) suggests, processing constraints limited language learning, in the Danish colony there was considerably more to the story since (New) Kwa features persisted beyond the point that processability theory predicts their abandonment. Added to the factors, discussed in chapters 2 and 5, that limited (New) Kwa speakers learning European languages were substantial typological differences, and limited opportunities for negotiation, the production of output, and the imposition of reception. When forced to communicate with those who held them captive, Africans resorted to imposition. In contrast, ingroup communication was facilitated by typological similarities, multilingualism, and areal features. Communication was also facilitated when speakers, who were able to impose reception on one another, negotiated comprehensible input and output. When their existing resources proved inadequate to the demands of communication in the culturally and linguistically heterogeneous colonial environment, they appropriated lexical items from the languages they encountered. Later they innovated grammatical structures. Like language learners everywhere, the creators of Negerhollands processed only portions of the input they heard. From this, they selected what they would add to their linguistic repertoires and determined how they would use their expanded resources.8 Those features, from whatever source, that resonated, for whatever reasons, with the greatest number of survivors became part of the Afro-Caribbean community’s language. Once Negerhollands emerged, the continued arrival of Africans and the continued presence of speakers of Germanic languages provided opportunities for borrowing. Like all languages, Negerhollands emerged and continued to exist because of the “social possibilities for its use” (G. Sankoff 1980:xxi). Although it existed for a relatively short time, its history is complex. And because its emergence is largely undocumented, this complexity is difficult to discern with precision. In their seminal discussion of cultural contact, Mintz and Price (1992) point to the importance of considering community and agency.

8 Meisel (1983) provides an excellent introduction to the alternative choices learners make. 132 chapter six

Applying this perspective to Negerhollands provides a way of breaking through the “epistemological stone wall” of creole genesis (Price 2007:30). In a challenging learning environment, Africans cooperated with one another and resisted those who oppressed them. Over time, conditions ameliorated, and the financially independent segment of the Afro-Caribbean community increased in size and wealth. The language of the colony reflected these changes, but evidence of its African heritage remains. As discussed in the previous chapter, research on age of arrival is “reliably the strongest predictor of ultimate attainment” (Birdsong 2006:12). This research explores primarily pronunciation and morphosyntax. Thus, it is these areas that are examined closely in chapters 7, 8, and 9 in order to test the degree to which the twentieth-century materials point to the early genesis of Negerhollands and its subsequent partial appropriation by the Euro-Caribbean community. Chapter Seven

Interlingual Influence: Phonology

Guinea hen can’t bring goat. (Virgin Islands proverb)

7.0 Introduction

Once landed in the Caribbean, those Africans who survived capture and transshipment faced the challenges of negotiating culturally alien and physically abusive environments. Although the finer details of these negotiations differed from colony to colony, similar factors shaped first individual and then communal responses to linguistic contact. Among the most important of these were heritage-culture loyalty, a pressing need for intragroup communication and communal identity, resistance to oppression, and the pressure for assimilation to European cultural norms. Like all situations involving human interaction, those in which language contact occurred were complex. As a result, as Plag (2009) points out, responses to that contact were also complex. As previously discussed, the limited information we have about the individuals involved in these interactions, the languages they spoke, and the conditions under which contact occurred has resulted in the “epistemological stone wall” surrounding creole genesis (Price 2007:30). Using phonological data, this chapter continues disman- tling that wall for Negerhollands. The sections below illustrate the ways in which speakers of four (New) Kwa languages, Fante, Twi, Ga, and Ewe, would have responded to both external and communitive pressures as they recon- stituted their social selves. Over the centuries, communial use, increased access to the colony’s prosperity for members of the Afro-Caribbean community living in Charlotte Amalie, and the availability of literacy to those attracted to the Moravian and Lutheran missions impacted Neg- erhollands. Nevertheless, evidence of Africans’ initial responses to cultural contact in the Danish colony is preserved in the language of the last Neg- erhollands speakers. As established in Chapter 3, the West African sociopolitical climate in the late seventeenth century indicates that Akan-, Ga-, and Western Gbe-speaking victims of slave trade were forced to make the Danish West Indies their home. Relying heavily on eighteenth-century documentation 134 chapter seven and rarely discussing convergent influence from English and Danish, den Besten et al. (1996) suggest that there is less West African influence on Negerhollands than on “some of the other” Afro-Caribbean vernaculars. An alternative history, one that reflects the rarity with which adult language learners produce unaccented speech, is developed below. This perspective holds that as speakers of (New) Kwa languages began to create community, they created Negerhollands. In acknowledging the crucial role that ingroup communication successes played in the genesis of this language, this position recognizes that the phonological influence of known languages is greatest when their frequency of use exceeds use of a linguistic target (Piske, MacKay, and Flege 2001). Section 7.1 considers the segmental inventory of Negerhollands. This discussion is both general and somewhat speculative given there are no detailed descriptions of the language varieties spoken by the African and European residents in the colony at the time Negerhollands was created. Section 7.2 discusses the ways in which speakers of (New) Kwa languages resolved differences in syllable structure between the languages they spoke and those they encountered in St. Thomas. Despite the limitations imposed by Magens’s view of language and grammar, the chapter also provides evidence of the Euro-Caribbean community’s partial adoption of Negerhollands syllable structure. The colony’s history suggests that Germanic features began to accumulate most slowly in the early decades, as speakers of (New) Kwa languages responded to brutal colonial management policies. As the Afro-Caribbean community stabilized, leveling eliminated features that were neither widely shared nor prestigious. Beginning in the early seventeenth century, the material advantages associated with town living began to impact Negerhollands. The influence of Germanic language features increased when members of the Afro-Caribbean community became literate first in Dutch and later in the evangelical variety of Virgin Islands Dutch Cre- ole. Germanic features accumulated in response to assimilatory pressure; some segments were suppressed while others were adopted. As a result, the language of the last speakers contains the amalgam of phonological patterns that range from more to less conservative. Acknowledging that neither languages nor the identities they encode are static, Section 7.3 considers evidence for the relative ordering of developmental processes that resulted in this continuum of features. interlingual influence: phonology 135

7.1 Segmental Inventories

The Negerhollands phoneme inventory falls in the middle of the 32 creole segmental inventories examined by T. Klein (2011). Composed of a subset of the contrastive segments occurring in the languages that were in contact in the Danish colony, the smaller Negerhollands inventory reflects the exigencies of the colonial setting. Like all adult language learners, Africans on St. Thomas exploited similarities between their languages and the input they encountered—a process described in Second Language Acquisition literature as positive transfer. However, from the very beginning of contact, two factors limited the influence of Germanic phonological systems. The first of these is the “robust and automatic” perception that develops (Strange and Shafer 2008:157, emphasis in the original) as native speakers compensate for the limited sampling capacity of the human auditory system. As a result, adults’ ability to differentiate speech sounds that do not contrast in their native languages is restricted “even after years of experience” (156). Early language learning also influences perceptual salience. For example, Iverson et al. (2003) provide experimental evidence Japa- nese speakers sensitivity an acoustic feature that is systematically ignored by speakers of American English. Additionally, a number of researchers have documented that hearers perceive illusory vowels when listening to consonant sequences that are not licenced by their native languages (e.g., Masuda and Takayuki 2010, Matthews and C. Brown 2004, and the references therein). Matthews and C. Brown also indicate that the frequency with which illusory vowels are perceived is influenced by phonological context, experimental task, and proficiency in the second language. The second factor that limited the influence of lexifier phonological systems is the negative relationship between perceptual accuracy and stressful interaction. As discussed in Chapter 5, anxiety limits learners’ ability to direct attention to input. Because Negerhollands was created by adults under substantial physical and psychological duress, the retention of (New) Kwa features is predicted for the earliest stages of development. Such features are evident in the Negerhollands vowel and consonant inventories. 136 chapter seven

7.1.1 Negerhollands Vowels As shown in Figure 6, Mrs. Stevens’ vowel system has seven contrastive monophthongs (i, e, ɛ, a, u, o, and ʌ)1 and three diphthongs (ai, oi, and ou). Mrs. Stevens alternated [ʌu] and [ou] using [ʌu] before /t/; the consultants who worked with de Jong did not produce [ou]. Pontopiddian and de Jong’s consultants also provide variant forms with [ɛi]. Since none of the relevant (New) Kwa languages have diphthongs (Ladefoged 1968), which are rare in African languages (Clements 2000), the diphthongs indicate the addition of Germanic segments. A second similarity between Negerhollands and its lexifiers is the absence of tone, which is contrastive in all four of the relevant (New) Kwa languages. Other features, like the contrastive mid-vowels, reflect positive transfer as these occur in contemporary Ewe and Ga as well as in the lexifiers. Non-contrastive high vowels, which are characteristic of contemporary Twi and Ewe (Cassidy and Le Page 2002, referencing Christaller 1933 and Westerman 1907), also appear to reflect the retention of (New) Kwa features. Five patterns of variation contribute to alternation among Negerhol- lands vowels. Like the segmental inventory, these reflect influence from both (New) Kwa and Germanic languages. One of these, vowel copying, reveals the influence of African language patterns during leveling as individual solutions to communication challenges came to be shared more generally.

i ~ ([ ]) u ~ ([])

e o ~ ([])

ai, oi, ou Figure 6. Negerhollands contrastive vowels

1 Although [han] ‘horn’ and [hæn] ‘hand’ contrast, Mrs. Stevens identifies the latter as an English word. De Jong (1926) reports /han/ ‘hand’. interlingual influence: phonology 137

Vowel harmony, which is “widespread in Niger-Congo” (e.g., Williamson and Blench 2000:68), is characterized by feature sharing among non- contiguous vowels. For example, in Ga words, vowels other than /ɛ/ or /ɔ/ must agree in orality/nasality and in many Ga nouns “with the shape CV+V . . . the second syllable is a copy of the first vowel” (Kropp Dakubu 1996:158). In Akan vowel harmony, vowels share +/‒ advanced tongue root position (Stewart 1967). In vowel copying, all the features are shared, so although it is not “directly inherited” (Rivera Castillo 2010:1), vowel copying satisfies requirements for feature sharing of non-contiguous vowels regardless of a speaker’s native language(s). Examples of vowel copying that occur include Negerhollands /groto/2 ‘large’, cognate with Hoch Kreol groot and a reflex of Dutch groot(e), Zeeuwese grôôt(e); Negerhol- lands [(a)bini], [abene] and [abɛnɛ] ‘in’, cognate with Hoch Kreol binne and reflexes of Dutch and Zeeuwese binnen; Negerhollands /midi/, cognate with Hoch Kreol middle, and a reflex of Zeeusese midde; and Neg- erhollands [futu], a reflex of Danish fod, Dutch voet, Zeeuwese voe:t and English foot. Plag (2009) proposes that vowel copying operates on non-etymological vowels. Several of the examples above illustrate this. Vowel copying also accounts for the features copied onto the second and third non-etymological vowels in Negerhollands [fikiti] ‘fight’, a reflex of Dutch vich_t_en3 and its variant [fɛgɛtɛ], a reflex of Dutch vech_t_en. In Negerhollands, features also are copied onto etymological vowels. These can be unstressed in the input, as is the case of the final vowel in Negerhollands [roto] ‘rat’ which is a reflex of Danish and Zeeuwese rotte. The Negerhollands word for lizard, [kɛkɛtɛs], a reflex of Dutch hagedis, provides a second example. In this case, the features of the unstressed second vowel are copied onto the first and last etymological vowels. How- ever, in a variant form, [kakatɛs], the features of the stressed, first vowel are copied onto the second vowel. A second pattern of Negerhollands variation reflects the combined influence of African and European language patterns. Unless they occur in etymological doublets, Negerhollands back and front vowels seldom

2 The Negerhollands segments under consideration are underlined. Vowels absent in the lexical source(s) are represented by an underline only. In some cases, vowel alternations and limited data make identification of the source vowel difficult. For example, it is not clear to me whether the source vowel in Negerhollands [bidrig] ‘deceive’ is the first vowel, as it would be if its lexical source were Danish bedrage or if it is the second vowel as it would be if its source vowel were Dutch bedriegen. 3 Oldendorp (1987:252) indicates that infinitive suffix -en “suffers a loss” in Negerhollands. 138 chapter seven alternate with each other. However, there is considerable variation among the high and mid vowels similar to that reported for Twi (Redden 1963) and reminiscent of that reported by Wald (2007) for the high and mid front vowels for African languages more generally. Parallel variation in the lexifiers, as illustrated by vichten and vechten above, reinforced this pattern. Additional evidence for such alternation is provided by Weijnen (1952), who reports variation among i, e, and ee, and among u, o, and oo in seventeenth-century Dutch literary texts. Negerhollands [kapoto] ‘dress’ which varies with [kaputo] illustrates variation among the back vowels. Both of these forms are reflexes of southern Dutch kapot ‘long cotton blouse or overdress’. A third source of variation among Negerhollands vowels is attributable to alternative approximations of lexifier forms. For example, Dutch schwa is realized as Negerhollands [u] as in [atufe] ‘too much’ and as [ʌ] as in [atʌve(l)] although both are reflexes of Dutch al te veel. Both are also cognate with Hoch Kreol alteveel. Similarly [eju] and [ɛiɛr] ‘egg’ are reflexes of Dutch and Zeuweese eier and are cognate with Hoch Kreol ejer. A fourth source of variation reflects the heterogeneity of Germanic input discussed in the previous chapter. For example, Negerhollands [wɛnɛ], [wɛne], and [wɛni] ‘when’ are reflexes of English when whereas [wani] is a reflex of Dutch wanneer. Since Dutch speakers predominated among the plantation elite, and Magens (1770 as transcribed by Hale n. d.) documents wanneer in his dialogues, we can be confident that [wani] had emerged at least by the 1760s. Consonant vowel (CV) syllable structure and vowel copying in [wɛnɛ] suggest it is an early form. The presence of Eng- lish speakers in the colony during in the seventeenth century also makes early emergence plausible for [wɛne], [wɛni], and [wenɛ]. However, this cannot be determined conclusively since all of the twentieth-century consultants also spoke Virgin Islands English Creole. Negerhollands [halʌf ], [hɛlʌf ] ‘half ’ provide a second example of multiple etymology since these are reflexes respectively of Danish halv, Dutch half, halve, English half and of Dutch helft. The fifth source of variation is an internal development. Negerhol- lands vowels variably assimilate to the height of following and preceding consonants. For example, Negerhollands [froko] ‘sell’ is a reflex of Dutch verkoopen and Zeeuwese verkopen. In an alternate form, [fruko], the first vowel assimilates to the height of the following [k], which like [u] is [+high]. There is also lowering in [-high] environments. For example, Negerhollands [supi] ‘rum’, which is a reflex of Zeeuwese zupe ‘spirits’, interlingual influence: phonology 139 varies with [sopi]. The Hoch Kreol cognate, soopie, suggests that height assimilation was a fairly early development. The Hoch Kreol word for person is volk. The Negerhollands word for ‘person’ illustrates the range of forms that emerges when several strategies interact: [folʌk], [folok], [foluk], [fuluk], [fulʌk], [fulok], [fʌluk], and [folk] are reflexes of Danish and English folk, Dutch and Zeeuwese volk, and Zeuwese vollək. Here vowel copying as in [folok], and [fuluk], along with vowel raising as in [foluk], [fuluk], and [fʌluk], and vowel neutralization as in [fulʌk], occur with the adoption of lexifier forms that produced [folʌk] and [folk]. Negerhollands [gorogoro] ‘gargle, adam’s apple, throat’, which is a reflex of Dutch gorgelen ‘to gargle’ according to de Jong (1926), provides a second example of the interaction of adaptive processes. After the elimination of the infinitive ending and the word-final consonant, a copy of the stressed vowel breaks up the consonant cluster in */goroge/ and the final vowel is harmonized to */gorogo/. Onomatopeia adds /ro/ resulting in /gorogoro/. Vowel raising results in gurru gurru, which is attested in Pontoppidian (1887). As shown by forms such as [abit(i)], [ʌbit(i)], and [abidi], all reflexes of Dutch (na) buiten ‘outside’, consonants were also affected by intersecting phonological processes.

7.1.2 Negerhollands Consonants Table 15 depicts consonant inventories for Ga, Ewe, Twi, Fante, and Neg- erhollands. Together the (New) Kwa languages have ten contrasting places of articulation: bilabial, labiodental, alveolar, post-alveolar, prepalatal, palatal, labiopalatal, velar, labiovelar, and glottal. Some segments articulated in these positions, like labiovelar stops, are rare elsewhere, and thus are highly marked vis à vis Germanic languages. Others occur in both (New) Kwa and the lexifiers. Of the 90 possible cells in the table, the (New) Kwa languages fill 38. Fifteen of these are filled by all four languages: p, t, k, b, d, g, m, n, ɲ, f, s, r/ɹ, w, j, and h. Negerhollands fills 21 cells. In addition to p, t, k, b, d, g, m, n, f, s, ɹ, w, j, and h, Negerhollands has ŋ, v, z, š, č, ǰ, and l. However, as discussed below, with the exception of /ŋ/ the distribution of these segments is limited. Additionally, Mrs. Stevens produced ɲ as an allophone of /n/ in a few words (e.g., [ɲu] ‘new’, [taɲʌ] ‘tannia’, a tuberous vegetable). As the list of Negerhollands phonemes illustrates, the differences between Negerhollands and the inventory of the (New) Kwa consonants reflects both markedness and pressure from the lexifiers. As in the vowel system, the relationship between these processes is complicated. For 140 chapter seven example, Negerhollands contrasts /l/ and /ɹ/. Of the relevant (New) Kwa languages, Ga contrasts these segments. Thus it may be the contrast represents the retention of a (New) Kwa pattern. However, since these segments are not contrastive in the other three languages, it may be that /l/ emerged primarily in response to external pressure. These segments also vary, as in Negerhollands [kaloši] ‘car, carriage’ varies with [karoši] although both are reflexes of lexifier forms containing [r]: Danish karros- seri and Dutch karosse+( je) ‘carriage’. This variation, which was preserved in Mrs. Stevens’s speech is also found a number of African languages (Wald 2007). It may also represent the influence of markedness since Major (2008) indicates [r] is more marked than [l]. The velar nasal provides a similarly complex example. Velar nasals occur in Ga and Ewe and in the lexifiers, and markedness relations are implicated in the non-phonemic status of /ɲ/ since velar articulations are less marked than palatal articulations (e.g., Nathan 1998). There is also evidence of external pressure on the emergence of Negerhollands /ŋ/, which may have alternated not only with [ɲ], but also with and [n] as in [drin], [driŋ(k)], and [driŋg] which are reflexes of Danish drink, Dutch drinken, Zeeuwese drienken, and English drink, and cognate with Hoch Kreol drink. One of de Jong’s consultants produced a token of [oŋ] for [ons] ‘we’. Addi- tionally, Mrs. Stevens occasionally substitutes [k] for [t] as in skɛn ‘stone’ which she otherwise pronounced as [sten] or [stin]. A voiceless, palatal fricative (ɕ), a voiced, labiopalatal glide (ɥ), and the voiced and voiceless pre-palatal affricates (ʥ, ʨ) occur in three of the four (New) Kwa languages but not in Negerhollands. This absence can be traced to external pressure, since these segments do not occur in the lexifiers. Although Negerhollands has the post-alveolar affricates /č/ and /ǰ/, they are infrequent. The voiceless affricate occurs mostly in reflexes of Dutch words containing the diminutive morpheme -tje (e.g., Negerhol- lands [bɛči] ‘bit’ cognate with Hoch Kreol beetje, Negerhollands /buči/ ‘brother’ cognate with Hoch Kreol butje, Negerhollands /bonči/ ‘pidgin peas’ cognate with Hoch Kreol boontje, /klɛnči/ ‘small’, and Negerhollands /kominči/ ‘bowl’ a reflex of Dutch komme(tje). The voiceless affricate also occurs in /muči/ ‘much’, which has an Ibero-Romance source; the Hoch Kreol cognate of /muči/ is mussie. The voiced affricate, /ǰ/, occurs primarily in lexical items from English sources (e.g., jump, just, and Jack). How- ever, it also occurs in ǰumbi ‘ghost, malevolent spirit’, which Allsopp (1996) speculates has a Bantu origin. Oldendorp’s (1987:77) documentation of interlingual influence: phonology 141 zumbikabai ‘ghost horse’, in which the affricate in /ǰumbi/ is replaced with a fricative, suggests an intermediate, less marked stage that emerged as the (New) Kwa pre-palatal affricates were developing into the Germanic post-alveolar affricates. The marginal status of several other phonemes is similarly attributable to (New) Kwa influence. For example, /š/ is contrastive (e.g /ši/ ‘3 sg poss’ vs. /si/ ‘side’). However, /š/ also results from palatization as in [šini], a reflex of Dutch snijden and Zeeuwese snieën, that varies with [sni]. Of the four (New) Kwa languages, only Twi has post-alveolar, voiceless fricative, /š/. This suggests that during initial settlement, Twi speakers produced /š/ while Ewe, Fante, and Ga speakers substituted pre-palatal voiceless fricative /ɕ/ when encountering /š/ in lexifier forms. The voiced fricatives /v/ and /z/ also are infrequent in Negerhollands. Den Besten et al. (1996:21) see /v/ as a post-genesis phenomenon associated with commerce, “education and religion.” This also holds for /z/. Akan learners of English substitute voiceless for voiced fricatives in all positions (Schachter 1962, Sey 1973). The rarity of voiced fricatives, as Parkvall (2000) suggests, is consistent with Akan influence during the formative period. Realization of Ewe go + vi ‘bottle + small’ as Negerhollands gobi ‘calabash’ also suggests Akan influence since Ewe speakers would have preserved the voiced fricative in their diminutive morpheme. Because initial fricative voicing is common in child language (Frant Hecht 1982, citing Fergu- son 1974, Ingram 1978, Stampe 1979), its rarity in Negerhollands implicates adults in the development of its phonological system. While the correspondence between Negerhollands /f/ and Dutch word- initial /v/ also reflects positive transfer. For example, Negerhollands /fal/ is a reflex of Danish falde, Zeeuwese faillen, and English fall and of Dutch vallen. Similarly, Negerhollands /fin/ ‘find’ is a reflex of Danish finde and English find and Dutch and Zeeuwese vinden. Initial /f/ also occasionally reflects variation in word-initial position in seventeenth-century Dutch (Weijnen 1952). Evidence for prescriptive pressure from the lexifiers and the language of the religious texts is provided by vesa (den Besten and van der Voort 1999, n 23 citing Oldendorp 1777), in which /v/ is substituted for the etymological /f/ in Dutch feest ‘feast’. Magens 1770 (as transcribed by Hale n.d.) provides feesa ‘party’. 142 chapter seven

Table 15. Comparison of (New) Kwa and Negerhollands consonant phonemes (adapted from Ladefoged 1968). Twi has voiced and voiceless palatal and labialized palatal stops. Fante and Twi have voiceless velar and labialized voiceless velar stops. Fante and Ga have pre-palatal and labialized pre-palatal voiced and voiceless affricates. Ga has voiceless pre-palatal and labilalized voiceless pre-palatal fricatives

Bilabial Labio- Alveolar Post- Pre- Palatal Labio- Velar Labio- Glottal dental alveolar palatal palatal velar Voiceless oral Fante Fante Twi Fante Ga stops Twi Twi Twi Ewe Ga Ga Ga Ewe Ewe Ewe NH NH NH Voiced oral Fante Fante Ewe Twi Fante Ga stops Twi Twi Twi Ewe Ga Ga Ga Ewe Ewe Ewe NH NH NH Nasal stops Fante Fante Fante Ga Ga Twi Twi Twi Ewe Ga Ga Ga NH Ewe Ewe Ewe NH NH Voiceless Ewe NH Fante affricates Ga Ewe Voiced NH Fante affricates Ga Ewe Voiceless Ewe Fante Fante Twi Fante Ewe fricatives Twi Twi NH Twi Ga Ga Ga Ewe Ewe NH NH Voiced Ewe Ewe Ga Ewe fricatives (NH) Ewe (NH) Approximates Ga Twi Fante Fante Fante Fante Ewe Ga Twi Twi Twi Twi NH NH Ga Ga Ga Ga Ewe Ewe Ewe NH NH NH Tap Fante interlingual influence: phonology 143

Between vowels, Negerhollands often has [b] where Danish, Dutch, Zeeu- wese, and English have /v/. This is illustrated by Negerhollands /(b)obu/, which is a reflex of Dutch and Zeeuwese over. Negerhollands [gobne], which alternates with [gov(ʌ)ne], provides a second example; both are reflexes of Zeeuwese goeverneer. Oldendorp (1987, 2000) also documents of kavana, cognate with Negerhollands /kaban/ (de Jong 1926) ‘makeshift bed’. Both are reflexes of Ibero-Romance cabana ‘hut, cot’ (Allsopp 1996). Thus, the substitution of /v/ for the etymological /b/ reveals avoidance of the stigma carried by Negerhollands forms. Corrective pressure also hypercorrected /b/ to /w/. This is illustrated in Hoch Kreol kawai (Hesseling 1905:68), which corresponds to Negerhol- lands /kabai/, a reflex of Ibero-Romance caballo ‘horse’ and Hoch Kreol sawaen, cognate with Negerhollands /saban/ ‘pasture, grassy field’, which is a reflex of Ibero-Romance sabana. According to Major (1987), adult learners acquire stops before fricatives. Since both /w/ and /v/ are con- tinuants, the alternation of [b], [w], and [v] in the twentieth-century data suggest a developmental sequence. Word-final /v/ occurs infrequently. Mrs. Stevens produced [fev] and [fɛv] ‘five’ and /grav/ ‘bury’. She also produced [twalv] although de Jong’s consultants produced forms ending in /f/. Magens (1770, as transcribed by Hale n.d.: n.p.) documents feif and twalf. This suggests the forms with word- final /v/ are later developments possibly reflecting English influence. Although Ewe and Ga contrast /z/ and /s/, Dutch and Zeeuwese initial /z/ often occurs in Negerhollands as /s/. Examples of this are Negerhol- lands /sɛp/ ‘soap’, which is a reflex of Dutch zeep and Zeeuwese zêêp and [sowe(l)], [suwe] ‘certain’, which are reflexes of Dutch zooveel. The latter forms are cognate with Hoch Kreol soo veel, which interestingly voices only the second consonant. Parallel to the correspondence between Neg- erhollands /f/ and Dutch/Zeeuwese /v/, the predominance of [s] also reflects influence from Danish and English. For example, Negerhollands /san/ is a reflex of Danish sand, English sand, as well as Dutch zand. The voiced fricative alternates with [s] word initially in Negerhollands in [ze] ‘sea’, a reflex of Dutch zee and [se] a reflex of Zeeuwese sêê, English sea and perhaps Danish sø. Negerhollands [swem], [zwem], [zwim], which are reflexes of zwemmen and English swim provide a second example. The voiced fricative also occurs in /zwel/ ‘equally as good’, a reflex of English as well. Medially /z/ occurs in Negerhollands [kizin] ‘cousin’, a reflex Eng- lish cousin. This perhaps is a late borrowing since Magens (1770 as transcribed by Hale n.d.:n.p.) gives negje. 144 chapter seven

As the Afro-Caribbean community in the Danish West Indies established Negerhollands phonological patterns, leveling reduced the number of competing variants even as the prestige of the lexifiers expanded the number of contrasts. Some evidence of this appears in the eighteenth- century documentation. Considerably more evidence is preserved in the variation documented in the twentieth-century data. The range of permissible syllable structures of Negerhollands tells a similar story.

7.2 Negerhollands Syllable Structure

A widely accepted hierarchical view of the syllable is presented in Figure 7. The first division is between an optional onset, composed of one or more consonants, and a rhyme. The rhyme is also composed of subunits: there is a nucleus and an optional coda. The coda, like the onset, can be composed of one or more consonants. The nucleus is either a static (i.e., monophthongal) vowel or a dynamic articulation such as a diphthong. The least marked syllable type is one in which an onset, composed of a single consonant, is followed by a single vowel, as in Negerhollands /du/ ‘do, put’. CV syllables with diphthongs, such as Negerhollands /moi/ ‘aunt, beautiful’ are less common. T. Klein’s (2011) survey demonstrates that syllable structure in these languages range from V to (C)(C)V(C)(C). Of these, consistent with the observation made by den Besten et al. (1996), quoted above, Saramaccan is the most conservative. T. Klein identifies Negerhollands as one of six least conservative creoles on the basis of syllable type: Negerhollands permits the full range of syllable types, a range of syllable types also characteristic of Dutch. In fact, although they are rare, Negerhollands also admits onsets with three consonants, as in /skreu/ ‘scream’ which alternates with /kreu/, and /skrif/ ‘write’ which is invariant in the twentieth-century material.

(onset) rhyme

nucleus (coda) Figure 7. A hierarchical view of the syllable interlingual influence: phonology 145

As Greenberg (1983) remarks, the CV syllable is frequently listed among the phonological characteristics of sub-Saharan African languages. The CV syllable also is strongly implicated in the genesis of Afro-Caribbean vernaculars. For example, Alleyne (1980) discusses the importance of the syllable to the search for the origin and development of these languages, while Holm (1988:217) identifies the CV syllable as “perhaps the single most important factor shaping the phonology of many of the Atlantic creoles. . . .” Plag (2009:134) agrees with these earlier statements, pointing to the relationship between the development of creole syllable structure and adult language learning. With respect to Negerhollands, as mentioned in Chapter 4, Van Name (1869–1870) and Sabino (1990, 1994) comment on the prevalence of open syllables in this language. Like the segmental inventory, range of Negerhollands syllable types and the predominance of CV syllables reveal interlingual influence from both (New) Kwa and Germanic languages. While the CV syllable is pervasive in (New) Kwa languages, Akan, Ga, and Ewe all admit syllables with onsets in which the second segment is a liquid or /w/. They also admit syllables with nasal codas (Kropp Dakubu 1999, Maddieson 2008). Thus some Negerhollands CCVN syllables are consistent with (New) Kwa heritage- language patterns. Other complex syllable types emerged as Negerhol- lands speakers responded to assimilatory pressures. Table 16 estimates the frequency of CV syllables in the languages and language varieties spoken in the Danish colony. In addition to Negerhol- lands and Hoch Kreol, it presents data from seventeenth-century Akwamu and Dutch and from contemporary Danish and English, Ewe, Fante, and Ga. The Negerhollands data, previously analyzed in Sabino 1990, are from de Jong 1926. The Hoch Kreol count is from Magens’s (1770) dialogues three through ten (as transcribed by Hale n.d.) in which none of the speakers is indentified as a “slave.” The remaining data are from the appendices in Sabino 1990. Polysyllabic words are counted as having CV structure only if all of the syllables in the word conformed to this pattern. For the dialogues, word-final glides, j and w, are counted as vocalic. The table illustrates a dramatic difference between the frequency of CV syllables in (New) Kwa and Germanic languages. It also demonstrates that the syllable complexity in Negerhollands revealed by T. Klein (2011) coexists with a strong preference for CV syllable structure; Negerhollands is quite unlike Danish, Dutch and English. In fact, the frequency of CV syllables in Negerhollands surpasses those of Twi and Fante. This difference has two sources. On the one hand, it reflects a developmental pattern. Adults who speak languages with syllable structures that are less complex 146 chapter seven than those they are learning proceed through developmental stages, the first of which reflects the structure of their native languages (e.g., Eckman 2008, Hodine 1985, Major 2008, Sato 1984, Tarone 1980). On the other hand, the preference for CV syllables emerges because, as the data in Tarone 1980 reveal, some learners display a preference for CV syllables that is unrelated to the structure of their native languages. The table also reveals that the syllable structure of Hoch Kreol was intermediate between that of Negerhollands and the Germanic lexifiers. This is consistent with the proposal advanced in Chapter 2—that Euro-Caribbean speakers selectively adopted Negerhollands features as a means of encoding local identity while carefully maintaining distinctions that signaled social distance from the Afro-Caribbean community. Speakers of (New) Kwa languages employed five strategies to create Negerhollands syllable structure of Negerhollands. One of these, positive transfer, preserved the structure of input forms. The other strategies modified the structure of Germanic words. That is, impermissible syllable structure was replaced with less-marked alternatives that were fashioned though reanalysis, the creation of non-etymological vowels, the elimination of segments, and metathesis. The preference for CV syllables persisted trans-generationally because Afro-Caribbean children acquired adult norms since at nine months infants already distinguish “phonetic sequences that occur frequently” in the input they encounter (Kuhl 2004:834 citing Jusczyk, Luce, and Charles-Luce 1994). Each of these strategies is discussed in the next section.

Table 16. Proportion of CV syllables in (New) Kwa and Germanic languages and in varieties of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole (New) Kwa Languages Germanic Languages Akwamu (Akan) 44% (N = 77) Danish 15% (N = 652) Fante (Akan) 50% (N = 722) Dutch 6% (N = 708) Ewe 78% (N = 623) English 8% (N = 728) Ga 72% (N = 647) Negerhollands 77% (N = 27,936) Hoch Kreol 43% (N = 3,007) interlingual influence: phonology 147

7.2.1 Positive Transfer Positive transfer preserved lexifier syllable structure compatible with that of (New) Kwa. Syllables ending in vowels or nasals and those in which the second consonant is a liquid or /w/ were compatible with the languages spoken by the Africans who built the colony’s infrastructure. Retention of forms with syllable-final vowels is illustrated by Negerhollands [awi] ‘who’, which is a reflex of Dutch wie and by Negerhollands /baba/ ‘mud’ which is a reflex of Dutch baba, a toilet training term (p.c., Gertrude Reichenbach, 3/21/1988). Permissible nasal codas appear in words like Negerhollands /bom/ ‘tree’, which is a reflex of Dutch boom and Zeeuwese bôôm, and Negerhollands /toŋ/ ‘tongue’, which is a reflex of Dutch tong(e) and Eng- lish tongue. Admissible complex onsets appear in words such as /bli/ ‘remain’, a reflex of Danish blive, Dutch blijven, and Zeeuwese blieə and cognate with Hoch Kreol blief. A second example is provided by Negerhol- lands [trɛ] ‘dig’ which varies with [tre]. Both are reflexes of Danish trække ‘dig’ and Dutch and Zeeuwese trekken ‘dig out’. Negerhollands /bwa/ ‘put away’ cognate with Hoch Kreol bewaer and /blof/ ‘promise’, a reflex of Dutch beloven illustrate the creation of a non-etymological onsets compatible with (New) Kwa syllable structure. Negerhollands syllable structure also exploited the variability of lexifier forms. For example, there is final consonant deletion in Standard Dutch imperatives and interrogatives (p.c., Reichenbach 3/21/1988). Thus, Dutch laat staan ‘let stay’ varies with lass staa. The Negerhollands forms are [(s)ta],[lasta], [lista], and[lastan] ‘leave/stay (behind), to allow’. One source for these forms is the frequency of imperatives and interrogatives in intergroup communication as the dialogue from Magens presented in the previous chapter illustrates. Variable reduction in Dutch rd, nd, rt, and ts clusters reported by Weijnen (1952) and den Besten (1987) facilitated both language learners and native speakers who wished to distance themselves from (New) Kwa by avoiding codaless syllables, but who were either unable or unwilling to produce lexifier word-final clusters. The single consonant codas in Negerhollands /kawɛt / ‘whip’, a reflex of Dutch karwat(s), and Negerhollands [har ] ‘heart’, a reflex of Dutch har(t) and English heart, provided a middle ground between (New) Kwa, which does not allow complex codas, and Germanic, which does. 148 chapter seven

7.2.2 Segmental Reanalysis Syllable structure compatible with that of (New) Kwa was also achieved when lexifier forms were remodeled. The vocalization of word-final Dutch uvular “r” as Negerhollands /u/, which reflects the rarity of uvular consonants in Africa (Clements 2000:125), illustrates this. Examples of this are plentiful (Sabino 1990): Negerhollands /astu/ ‘after’ is a reflex of Dutch achter ‘after’; Negerhollands /fristu/ ‘fiancee’ is a reflex of Dutch vrijster ‘sweetheart’. Reanalysis also occurs systematically with Dutch words ending in unstressed el as in /saku/ ‘bag, sack’ and /lepu/ ‘spoon’ which corre- spond to Dutch, sakel and lepel. Another example of reanalysis is provided by the correspondence of Dutch ver with Negerhollands /fo/ as in /fortɛl/ ‘recount’, which is a reflex of Dutch vertellen; in [fosiku], [fosikʌl], and [fosikl] ‘powerful’, which are reflexes of Dutch verschrikkelen ‘frighten’; and in /fosto/ ‘understand’, which is a reflex of Dutch verstaan and Zeeuwese verstan. Reanalysis was not sensitive to lexifier morphological boundaries. As den Besten et al. (1996) point out, the Dutch diminutive is frequently rein- terpreted as root-final /i/. For example, in addition to the copied final vowel in [duku] ‘cloth’, which appears in the twentieth-century data, Old- endorp (2000) documents doeki, which achieves CV syllable structure by reanalysis of the Dutch diminutive (i.e., doek + je). Negerhollands /stiki/ ‘bit, piece’, which is a reflex of Dutch and Zeeuwese stik + je, provides a second example. Other examples are Negerhollands /paso/ ‘nurse, to herd, care for’, which is a reflex of Dutch pas op, cognate with Hoch Kreol pas op, and Negerhollands /diŋko/ ‘remember’, which is a reflex of English think of/on.

7.2.3 The Addition of Non-Etymological Vowels Like the reanalysis of Dutch unstressed, word-final liquids, the addition of non-etymological vowels modifies input syllable structure. Singh and Muysken (1995:166) see only the creation of non-etymological vowels at the ends of words as “a substrate phenomenon characteristic of creoles with West-African substrates.”4 However, Plag (2009), citing the discussion of illusory vowels in Hallé (2008) views the creation of all non-etymological

4 They also write “creoles for which early stages are well documented, such as Negerhol- lands, do not show a greater amount of paragogic vowels in the early stages” (166). Singh and Muysken’s observation accurately characterizes the limited presence of such vowels in the eighteenth-century corpora, but their use of the term Negerhollands to describe these interlingual influence: phonology 149 vowels as evidence of native language influence. Like Singh and Muysken, Plag’s view accounts for uncontroversial paragogic vowels in words such as Negerhollands /futu/ ‘foot’, which is a reflex of Danish vod, Dutch voet, and English foot, in [rigi], [rɛge], and [rige] ‘back of body’, which is a reflex of Danish ryg. However, Plag’s broader position also accounts for the non- etymological vowels in forms like [fikiti], [fɛgɛtɛ] ‘fight’ (discussed above) in which neither the second or third vowels has an etymological source. The source of the word-final vowel in words like /hogo/ ‘eye’ is more difficult to determine since possible reflexes are Danish øje and Zeeuwese ooge which contain word-final vowels, and Dutch oog, which does not. In addition to creating word-final, CV syllables, Negerhollands non- etymological vowels disassemble the complex codas of lexifier forms resulting in syllable structure more compatible with that of (New) Kwa. For example, in Negerhollands /dɛrʌm/ ‘intestine’, a reflex of Danish tarm, Dutch darm, derm, and Zeeuwese derm, the impermissible /rm/ coda is avoided since both /dɛ/ and /rʌm/ are permissible in the New (Kwa) languages. In other cases, the resulting syllable structure, while impermissible in (New) Kwa, is less complex than that of the lexifiers. For example, Negerhollands [fɛruk], a reflex of Dutch vurk and Zeeuwese vurk(e), varies with [foruk] ‘fork’, a reflex of Dutch vork(e) and English fork. Although both Negerhollands forms end in a stop—a coda that is impermissible in (New) Kwa—the Germanic cluster is eliminated. Non-etymological vowels also appear in Negerhollands syllable onsets, as in /šini/ ‘cut’, a reflex of Dutch sniden and /filis/ ‘meat’, a reflex of Dutch vleesch and Zeeuwese vleis.

7.2.4 The Elimination of Etymological Consonants Many Negerhollands words have fewer segments than appear in Hoch Kreol or lexifiers forms. Some of the most frequent words in Negerhollands were created this way: examples include /gi/, a reflex of Danish give, Dutch and Zeeuwese geven, and English give, and cognate with Hoch Kreol gief and Negerhollands /kri/ ‘get’, a reflex of Dutch krijgen and Zeweeuse kriegen and cognate with Hoch Kreol krieg. Other frequent words vary although they usually occur without an etymological coda. For example, loop a reflex of Dutch loopen ‘to run’, is preferred in Hoch Kreol. However, in the twentieth-century data, there are 643 tokens of [lo] ‘go, imperfective data leads them to underestimate the degree to which speakers of (New) Kwa languages modified Germanic input. 150 chapter seven aspect, proximate future’ and two of [lop]. Table 17 (below), which excludes /lo/ because of its nearly categorical vowel-final status, lists Neg- erhollands words that occur in the twentieth-century data with and without a word-final consonant. Overall 89 percent of the tokens for these lexical items are vowel-final. Only three words, /antu(t)/ ‘answer’, /glo(f )/ ‘believe’, and [ti(t)], which varies with [tid] ‘time’, typically appear with word-final, etymological consonants. The strong preference for open syllables overall, illustrated in Table 16 (above), suggests that at an earlier stage of the language, the codaless forms of these three words predominated. Among the words that are typically vowel-final are /ale(n)/, /ko(m)/, and /ne(m)/, which are vowel-final at rates above 90 percent. As is often the case with phonological variation, the alternation for forms with and without codas is conditioned. For example, Major and Faudree (1996) and Hansen Edwards (2008) report that language learners preserve word-final consonants when they can be associated with the onset of a following syllable. Singler (1991) reports such conditioning persists in “basilectal” (19) Liberian Interior English. This pattern also occurs in Negerhollands. For example, 95 percent of [kom] tokens in the de Jong texts were followed

Table 17. Negerhollands words with CV(C) structure (from Sabino 1990) Words frequently ending in a vowel Words frequently ending in a consonant alma(l) ‘all’ 99% (N = 121) antu(t) ‘answer’ 42% (N = 12) kri(g) ‘get’ 98% (N = 216) glo(f ) ‘believe’ 33% (N = 3) ma(k) ‘make’ 96% (N = 140) ti(t) ‘time’ 1% (N = 68) ki(k) ‘see’ 95% (N = 264) ale(n) ‘only’ 94% (N = 18) ja(r) ‘year’ 93% (N =15) ko(m) ‘come’ 93% (N = 536) ne(m) ‘take’ 93% (N = 251) gese(g) ‘face’ 88% (N = 8) do(r) ‘door’ 87% (N = 39) dra(g) ‘bring’ 86% (N = 71) tu(t) ‘close’ 84% (N = 32) kla(r) ‘clear’ 82% (N = 11) ho(r) ‘hear’ 81% (N = 96) sowel ‘as well’ 69% (N = 13) ske(r) ‘tear’ 70% (N = 10) fra(g) ‘ask’ 65% (N = 115) atufe/altəvel ‘too much’ 64% (N = 14) interlingual influence: phonology 151 by a word beginning with a vowel. Additionally, when Mrs. Stevens occasionally used [frak], it was followed by the vowel-initial third person singular pronoun. In both cases, resyllabification eliminates the syllable coda: [kom it] becomes [ko.mit], and [frak am] becomes [fra.kam]. It also as, Singler (1991) points out, maximizes CV structure by creating onsets. As discussed above, words with complex codas are permissible in Neg- erhollands. However, those that exist (e.g., /stibn/ ‘convulsion’, /spriŋkl/ ‘sprinkle’) are infrequent. As a group, 79 percent of the tokens of the Negerhollands 21 words with variable consonant omission examined in Sabino 1990, 1994 did not have complex codas. Additionally there was no evidence of phonological conditioning as there was with simple codas. Given the permissibility of nasal codas in (New) Kwa, the alternation of /ko/ and /kom/, /ne/ and /nem/ and /ale/ and /alen/ in Table 17 illustrates the interaction of native language structure and language learners’ preference for CV syllables discussed by Sato (1984) and Tarone (1980). Comparison of the rates of coda avoidance for the words with simple and complex codas with Pearson Chi Square reveals a highly significant difference (p <.0001): speakers’ desire for CV syllable structure had a greater impact on Negerhollands than did the need to reduce coda complexity. The persistence of this preference for codaless syllables across generations despite the admissiblity of complex codas and the possibility for resyllabification is explained by infants’ sensitivity “to the sequential probabilities between adjacent syllables” (Kuhl 2004:834). Variation also occurs in words with complex onsets beginning with /s/ since these are not permitted in (New) Kwa. For example, de Jong (1926) documents both [stomp], which contains both a complex onset and a complex coda, and [tom], which contains neither. Both are reflexes of Dutch stomp and English stump. Negerhollands /tom.pi/ ‘short’, a reflex of English stumpy, also occurs. Negerhollands /(s)krau/ ‘scratch’ and /(s)kreu/ ‘scream’ provide additional examples. As in Caribbean Eng- lish-lexicon vernaculars (e.g., Alleyne 1980, Rickford and Handler 1994), s-clusters must have been absent in the earliest stages of Negerhollands. That little of this variation remains suggests s-absence in syllable onsets was a stigmatized feature.

7.2.5 Metathesis Although not frequent, metathesis also created CV syllable structure. For example, Negerhollands /guri/ ‘grow’ was used by Mrs. Stevens and by de Jong’s consultants. The Hoch Kreol cognate is gruj, and Oldendorp 152 chapter seven

(1987, 2000) documents groei. The Virgin Islands Creole forms are reflexes of Dutch groeien and Zeeweuse groe:ien. Metathesis also eliminated a complex onset beginning with /s/ in /pistakʌl/ ‘spectacle’. In Negerhollands /plimbo/ ‘prison’, a reflex of English bilbo ‘iron bar with shackles to confine prisoners on ships’, metathesis creates two codaless syllables, one with a permissible C + liquid onset.

7.2.6 Homo-Organic Nasal-Stop Sequences Mrs. Stevens pronounced /mp/, /mb/, /nt/, /nd/, /ŋk/, /ŋg/ as nasal-stop sequences with a perceptible intervening syllable boundary, as in /mon.ti/ ‘mortar used with a pestle’.5 Although it is not possible to determine when these sequences entered the language, some occur in words of African origin and likely originated as prenasalized stops. For example, the variants [ki.am.bo], [kjam.bo] ‘okra’ are probably related to Kimbundu kingo.mbo (Baker 1993:143). Negerhollands /baŋg(a)la/ ‘bludgeon’ and [ ǰum.bi] ‘malevolent spirit’ also appear to have Bantu origins (Allsopp 1996, Baker 1993). However, other nasal-stop sequences appear in Negerhollands words that are reflexes of lexifier forms. For example, Negerhollands [bom.ba] and [bum.ba] ‘enslaved foreman’ are reflexes of the compound bom.bass, which was used in the Dutch forts (Postma 1990); and Negerhollands /pam.pun/ ‘pumpkin’ is a reflex of Dutch pam.poen. Non-etymological, homo-organic nasal-stop sequences occur in Negerhollands /ham.bu/ ‘hammer’, a reflex of Dutch hamer and /plimbo/ ‘prison’. There are also nasal-stop clusters that emerged in Negerhollands compounds. In /huŋ.guse/ ‘dog face’, which is composed of hun ‘dog’ (a reflex of Danish hund ‘dog’) and guse’ face’ (a reflex of Dutch and Zeeuwese gezicht), the homo-organic nasal assimilates to the following stop’s place of articulation. Elimination of nasal- stop sequences in forms like Negerhollands [tamarin] ‘tambourine’ and Hoch Kreol moppi ‘sandfly’, cognate with Negerhollands [mumpi] which is documented by de Jong (1926) and [mam.pi] which survives in Virgin Islands English Creole (Valls 1981), suggest these sequences were stigmatized because they were associated with African speech.6

5 Syllable boundaries are indicated only for those words I have heard pronounced. 6 Maureen Warner-Lewis (p.c., 9/18/1995) suggests [mampi] ~ [mumpi] is a reflex of Kikoongo mvimvi ‘black venomous ant, wasp’. interlingual influence: phonology 153

7.3 Ordering Developmental Patterns

The previous sections demonstrate that beyond the range of syllable types produced by the last speakers of Negerhollands, variant forms reveal the linguistic strategies that Africans used to mediate the colonial environment. Positive transfer influenced the structure of Negerhollands especially during the first decades of settlement since this is when (New) Kwa speakers established “a viable, self-perpetuating society” (Zelinsky 1973:13). These decades were also when segmental reanalysis reflecting the perceptual limitations of adult language learners under duress was greatest. Alternative proposals have been suggested with respect to the relative ordering of the addition of non-etymological vowels and the omission of etymological consonants in creole genesis. Singh and Muysken (1995) argue that deletion occurs first and that word-final vowels are a later addition. In contrast, Plag (2009:133) sees the appearance of “default” non- etymological vowels as an early phenomenon reflecting native language influence under “less favorable” conditions (132). Citing Major (1987), he sees deletion occurring at a later stage when universals replace first-language transfer as the primary force shaping learners’ grammars. Singler’s (1991:36) discussion of “repair strategies” in Pidginized Liberian Interior English is consistent with Plag’s position: the speakers Singler identifies as “most basilectal favor vowel paragogue and resyllabification while [those he identifies as] least basilectal favor deletion. . . .” However, data from adult language learners suggest a third alternative: although learners’ preferences are to some degree reflective of their native languages, a range of strategies, including the two of interest here, are employed simultaneously (e.g., Anderson 1987; Flege and Davidian 1984; Gass and Selinker 2001, citing research by Young-Scholten 1995, 1997; Hodine 1985; Lin 2003; Major 1987; Sato 1984; Tarone 1980; Young-Scholten, Akita, and Cross 1999). For example native speakers of Egyptian Arabic, Korean, Viet- namese, Cantonese, Mandarin, and Amoy Chinese are more likely to omit etymological consonants while learners whose native language is Polish or Portuguese are more likely to produce non-etymological vowels. Style, English proficiency, position in syllable, literacy, and whether segments occurred singly or in clusters also are reported to impact the frequency with which strategies are employed. Only a few Negerhollands lexical items have variants impacted by both the omission of etymological consonants and the insertion of non- etymological vowels. However, as illustrated by the examples in sections 7.2.3 and 7.2.4, lexical items impacted by one or the other of these strategies 154 chapter seven are plentiful. Thus, it is likely that speakers used both strategies during creole genesis. A positive relationship between literacy and the insertion of non-etymological vowels (Lin 2003), suggests this strategy may have increased with the Moravians’ literacy efforts. Although the relationship between the insertion of non-etymological vowels and the omission of etymological consonants cannot be determined definitively for Negerhollands, another developmental sequence is so well established that it can be posited: coda omission precedes devoicing, which in turn precedes the production of input forms ending in voiced stops and fricatives for both adult (e.g., Eckman 1977, 1981, 2008, Major 1987, 2008, Major and Faudree 1996, Sabino 1994, Sey 1973) and child (Major 1987) learners. This sequence is illustrated in Negerhollands by forms such as [dra], [drak], [drag] ‘bring, carry’, all reflexes of Dutch dragen and Zeeuwese draegen and by [fra], [frak], [frag] ‘ask’, all reflexes of Dutch vragen and Zeeuweese vraegen. Among words documented in the twentieth century that have variants ending in both voiced and voiceless segments, voiceless segments predominate (Sabino 1990). As with other alternations, prescriptive pressure is revealed in forms with non-etymological voiced segments, such as Negerhollands [big] ‘belly’, which alternates with [bik]. Both are reflexes of Dutch buik. Negerhollands [ ǰumb], a reflex of English jump, which varies with [ ǰum] and [ ǰomp], provides a second example. Graves (1977:221) cites a proverb from Magens (1770) that reveals his awareness of the alternation between voiced and voiceless stops. In addition to Kokro no bang Slang, Slang no ban Kokro ‘The crocodile doesn’t fear the snake; the snake doesn’t fear the crocodile, he documents Die gut bin Slank bik, bin na Kakketis bik ooka ‘The thing (that) is (in) snake’s belly, is in lizard’s belly too. Only /slaŋ/, a reflex of Danish slange and Dutch slang(e) occurs in the twentieth-century data. Since the nasal stop in /slaŋ/ is voiced, slank appears to be an innovation.

7.4 Summary

Just as the emergence of local identity and “practical considerations of util- ity” (Whinnom 1971:93) interrupted the transmission of African languages, the culturally alien and physically abusive environments of Europe’s Caribbean colonies limited Africans’ willingness and ability to embrace the languages of their captors. The native speakers of Negerhollands who provided the twentieth-century data spoke no African languages. However, there is a striking similarity between the variation found in interlingual influence: phonology 155

Negerhollands (see Appendix III) and that which Maguire (1990) describes for Modern Irish. According to Maguire, during revitalization, the first generation of children to learn Irish as a native language encountered input produced by adult language learners. So did Afro-Caribbean children in St. Thomas. In both cases “effective, uninhibited communication” (Maguire 1990:202) resulted in the preservation of variant forms. The persistence of vowel copying, the avoidance of complex onsets and syllable codas, and the marginality of affricates and voiced fricatives in the twentieth century attests to earlier satisfaction with and affection for the language of the emerging Afro-Caribbean community. Dorian (2010:277) discusses several other cases in which children preserve “diverse parental linguistic models” in the absence of input from slightly older native-speaking peers. Interaction across group boundaries provided opportunities to extend productive repertoires. As elsewhere (e.g., Bourdieu 1977, Preston 2000, G. Sankoff 1980), responses to these opportunities reflected the colony’s social dynamics. The emergence of local identify among the plantation elite resulted in the modification of Germanic syllables in the direction of Negerhollands even as assimilative pressures encouraged Negerhollands speakers’ use of diphthongs, the emergence of onsets and codas that were impermissible in (New) Kwa languages, and the abandonment of prenasalized stops. Prescriptive pressure was such that Magens was moved to produce a Hoch Kreol grammar. Even Magens’s dialogues reflect negative attitudes towards the language of the Afro-Caribbean community: both the elite and those they enslaved are portrayed as using forms such as mester ‘master’, vrou ‘woman, wife’, loop ‘go’, mit ‘with’, and sender ‘third person plural pronoun’ rather than Negerhollands /mestu/, /frou/, /lo/, /mi/ and /sen(u)/. Additional evidence for the intertwined development of Negerhollands and Hoch Kreol can be found through out their grammars. The next chapter, which examines plural marking, continues to explore how speakers of (New) Kwa languages shaped the grammar of Negerhollands. It also provides evidence of the ways in which Negerhollands influenced Hoch Kreol.

Chapter eight

Interlingual Influence: Plural Marking

Monkey know what tree to climb.1 (Virgin Islands Proverb)

8.0 Introduction

This chapter further explores how speakers of (New) Kwa languages shaped the grammar of Negerhollands and provides additional evidence of the ways in which Negerhollands influenced Hoch Kreol and the evangelical variety. Negerhollands plural marking is similar to that of other Afro-Caribbean vernaculars in three ways: 1) the same form is used to encode the third person plural pronoun, the additive plural, and the associative plural; 2) plural marking is pragmatically determined; and 3) plural marking is conditioned by semantic features. All three of these characteristics reflect (New) Kwa influence although only the first is a reflex of a particular (New) Kwa language likely to have been present in the colony during creole genesis. None of these are features are characteristic of the Germanic languages that provided the models for Negerhollands words. Thus, it is not surprising that this patterning is only partially attested in Hoch Kreol. As in the preceding chapter, the Negerhollands data analyzed here are taken from de Jong (1926) and my conversations with Mrs. Stevens. The Hoch Kreol data is drawn from Magens’s dialogues, (as transcribed by Hale n.d.). Section 8.1 examines the Negerhollands plural forms, explores the semantic and pragmatic constraints on Negerhollands plural marking, and considers evidence for the Negerhollands associative plural. Section 8.2 discusses plural marking in Hoch Kreol and the evangelical texts. As predicted in Chapter 2, although these varieties share some features with

1 One of my favorites! The proverb, which appears in Pontoppidian (1887) as Makaku weet, na wat boom him sa klem references the thorny sandbox tree. The proverb comments on the importance of knowing whom to approach about a request or problem. It is also used to characterize someone as taking advantage of or imposing on another person. 158 chapter eight

Negerhollands, they are distinctive both qualitatively and quantitatively. Section 8.3 summarizes the chapter’s findings.

8.1 Plural Marking in Negerhollands

As in a number of Caribbean creoles (e.g., Alleyne 1980, Holm 1988:193, D. Taylor 1971), in Negerhollands, a single form encodes what in Germanic languages are two meanings: the third person plural pronoun and the additive (i.e., noun) plural. Although third person plural pronouns and plural nouns both refer to homogeneous sets, the use of a single form for both meanings “is relatively rare” in the world’s languages (e-mail communication, Nina Dobrushina/Michael Daniel 10/5/2005). T. Jensen (1984), describing this feature from the perspective of Euro- pean lexifiers, calls it an “innovation” (103). More conventionally, this feature is attributed to an affinity with the (New) Kwa languages in use during creole genesis.2 In Akan, for example, obligatory prefixes identify most nouns as either singular or plural. However, there is also a plural suffix. In Twi, this suffix is “-nom,” a reduced form of “ewonom ‘they’ ” (Alleyne 1980:151). In Fante, another Akan language, and in Ga, speakers also use forms that encode third person plural as an additive plural morpheme (Parkvall 2000). In Ewe, as in a number of Afro-Caribbean vernaculars, including Negerhollands, the same form pluralizes the third person pronoun, common nouns, and proper nouns representing groups (Alleyne 1980, Kropp Dakubu 2009). A second characteristic that differentiates plural marking in (New) Kwa languages and Afro-Caribbean vernaculars, including Negerhollands, from Germanic languages is the role semantic features play in plural marking. For example, the Akan plural suffix is used with human referents (Kropp- Dakubu 2009), and nouns referring to humans are considerably more likely to be marked for plural than are other nouns in Jamaican and Guyanese (Rickford 2004). In Ga and Fante, the plural suffix is used “mainly” with animates (Parkvall 2000). This is the pattern we find in Negerhollands. Like the semantic features +/‒ human and +/‒ animate, when definiteness constrains plural marking in a number of Afro-Caribbean vernaculars, only definite nouns can be associated with a plural morpheme (Alleyne 1980). As in Negerhollands, this is the case, for example, in Tobagonian

2 According to Parkvall (2000:93), this was first pointed out in Rask (1928). interlingual influence: plural marking 159

( James 2001), in Bahamian (Sabino, Diamond, and Oggs 2004), and in Jamaican (B. Bailey 1966). In fact, this relationship is so salient for Bailey that she defines the Jamaican plural marker as a discontinuous morpheme (i.e., di . . . dem). Because, like definite nouns, indefinite nouns are referring expressions (e.g., Christie 1992), they can be semantically plural in these languages with plurality signaled with modifiers, or inferred from hearers’ knowledge of the world or from utterance context. However, indefinite nouns not available for morphological plural marking. A third characteristic that Negerhollands shares both with African languages (Creissels 2000) and with other Afro-Caribbean vernaculars is the pragmatic determination of plural marking on definite nouns. In addition to marked and unmarked additive plurals, speakers also have the option of selecting a nonreferring expression—a bare noun. Bare nouns are num- berless either because they have generic reference, like monkey and tree in the proverb at the beginning of the chapter, or because the speaker chooses not to specify number.

8.1.1 Negerhollands Plural Forms There are a variety of related plural forms in Virgin Islands Dutch Creole. Hinskens and van Rossem (1995, following van Ginneken 1913) identify sinder, a West Flemish free-standing, third person subject pronoun as the lexical source for these variants.3 Although the three varieties overlap slightly, the twentieth-century data reveal substantially more variation than is attested in earlier sources. The forms in Figure 8 represent the most frequent variants produced by Mrs. Stevens and de Jong’s consultants. The figure illustrates the developmental scenario suggested in the previous chapter: over time, an early preference for open syllables and vowel harmony is modified by height assimilation and by external pressure from Dutch, Hoch Kreol, and the models offered by the Moravians and Luther- ans. If Parkvall’s (2000:157) suggested interval of 18 years for the emergence of plural marking in most Afro-Caribbean varieties is correct, the earliest forms, those in steps 1 and 2, would have been developed by 1691,

3 Den Besten and van der Voort (1999) suggest Zeelandic influence although they do not point to a particular reflex. 160 chapter eight

Flemish sinder

sinu sini sin sin ‘POSSIVE’ 1 2 3 4

senu sen sen ‘SUBJECT’ 5 6 7

senu senᴧ sen se 8 9 10 11

sendu sende sender sendr 12 13 14 15 Figure 8. A developmental path for Negerhollands plural forms shortly after the stabilization of the Afro-Caribbean population.4 Beyond this, the figure makes no claims with respect to overall time depth. Keeping in mind that the numbering in the figure represents only the relative ordering of adjacent forms, step 1 illustrates the reanalysis of the unstressed, word-final er of the West Flemish form as word final /u/. In step 2, the stressed vowel is copied. In step 3, the copied, word- final vowel is eliminated by speakers who wish to distance themselves from (New) Kwa-influenced forms. Step 4 identifies a tendency of de Jong’s consultants to use sin as a third person plural possessive. In step 5, height assimilation lowers the stressed vowel, /i/, in /sinu/ to /e/. Parallel to step 3, the word-final vowel is eliminated in step 6. Step 7 identifies Mrs. Stevens’s tendency to use /sen/ as a third person plural subject pronoun. In step 8, the stressed vowel in form 5, /senu/, is again lowered, this time from /e/ to /ɛ/. Step 9 reduces the final vowel to wedge. Step 10 parallels step 6. The nasal coda is removed in step 11. In step 12, as speakers

4 The assumption that Negerhollands is well represented by eighteenth-century Hoch Kreol and religious texts leads Parkvall to suggest that use of the same form to encode third person plural pronoun and the additive plural “was a relatively late development” (158). interlingual influence: plural marking 161 approximate the lexifiers more closely, a medial cluster is created. Although this moves the form in step 8 closer to its reflex, it preserves syllable structure that is permissible in (New) Kwa. In step 13, the stressed vowel is copied. In step 14, word final r is added, violating (New) Kwa structure. Step 15 removes a vowel and creates a non-etymological ndr syllable coda. Although there is considerable variation in the use of these plural forms, a search of the full set of de Jong’s (1926) texts revealed that his consultants used /sin/ to encode third person plural possessive 39 out of 41 times. This use is illustrated in example (8). The single token of /sin/ that Mrs. Stevens produced was in subject position. For third person plural possessives, which were rare in our conversations, Mrs. Stevens used /sen/, a form also supplied in Nelson’s (1936) word list but not produced by de Jong’s consultants. Mrs. Stevens also used /sen/ frequently (117/128) as a third person plural subject pronoun. She typically used /senu/ for third person plural objects and to mark additive plurals. Nelson also provides a sentence with this distinction. Magens (1770 as transcribed by Hale n.d.) documents an early use of nominative se: Sender ha seg se sa kom jeet Vrukost na mie. ‘They said they will come eat breakfast with me.’ Examin- ing three late eighteenth-century evangelical texts, Hinskens and van Ros- sem (1995:66) report that “sen is only used as a pronoun.” Further analysis of the eighteenth-century material may provide additional insight into this aspect of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole.

(8) enestʌ folk any person/people wɛni sini ka dot, sin ges sini lo when 3.pl pfv die, 3.pl.poss ghost 3.pl go wapi sini ha famili fo lo gi sini [notice] where 3.pl have family to go give 3.pl notice sini kan lo (WHR102) 3.pl can go ‘Whoever dies, before departing (from this world), their ghosts advise their families of their deaths’

8.1.2 Semantic and Pragmatic Conditioning As indicated above, plural marking in Negerhollands is semantically and pragmatically determined: speakers limit plural marking to syntactically definite nouns for which it is variable. A data set of semantically plural nouns produced by Mrs. Stevens and by Mr. Roberts serves to illustrate 162 chapter eight

Table 18. Distribution of marked and unmarked Negerhollands non-singular nouns Noun Category Frequency Marked definite 106 Unmarked definite 103 Marked indefinite 2 Unmarked indefinite 113 Bare 112 Total 436 how these constraints interact.5 Table 18 shows the distribution of tokens in this data set. Overall, Negerhollands speakers do not mark non-singular nouns for plural: 76 percent of the 436 tokens were unmarked. About a quarter of the unmarked tokens were indefinite nouns with plural reference. Another twenty-five percent were bare nouns. Of the 209 definite nouns, 106 (51 percent) were marked for plurality. Mrs. Stevens also produced two syntactically indefinite tokens in which a definite article appears to be elided.6 These represent 4.5 percent of the data. Graves (1977) reports that no further conditioning determines which nouns will be left unmarked. However, den Besten et al. (1996:17) observe that animate nouns are more frequently marked than are inanimate nouns. Table 19 shows how the semantic feature, +/‒ animacy, affects plural marking decisions for the 209 definite nouns in Table 18. Rickford (2004) reports preferential marking for nouns with human reference in Jamaican and Guyanese. However, a Pearson Chi Square test of the Negerhollands distribution indicates that, and ‒ human, + animate nouns are marked similarly. When these categories are combined, 62 percent of marked nouns are animate compared to 38 percent of unmarked nouns, consistent with den Besten et al.’s (1996) observation. This difference, which is significant at p < .0001), is reminiscent of the pattern Parkvall reports for Fante and Ga. (See above.) The decision tree in Figure 9 illustrates the roles that pragmatic and semantic factors play as speakers determine which semantically plural nouns to associate with a plural marker. At the first node, a speaker must determine whether the noun is a referring expression since non-referring bare nouns are unavailable for plural marking. If the noun is a referring

5 Mrs. Stevens’s tokens are drawn from the full set of her conversations with me. Nar- ratives 45, 49, 52, 56, 60, 65, 68, 72, 73, and 75 were coded for Mr. Roberts. 6 For example, /mi no wit di andu senu. _ andu senu a ka dot/. (MSA26A) interlingual influence: plural marking 163

Table 19. Referents for 209 definite, semantically plural Negerhollands nouns Human Non human Inanimate Animate Number marked definite nouns 36 30 40 Number unmarked definite nouns 16 13 74

Is noun a referring expression?

Yes No

Is noun de nite? Produce bare noun

Yes No

Consider animacy Produce bare noun & pragmatics

Mark noun for plural?

YesNo

Produce marked noun Produce unmarked noun

Figure 9. A decision tree for Negerhollands plural marking 164 chapter eight expression, the speaker next determines whether or not the noun is definite since only Negerhollands semantically plural, definite nouns are available for plural marking. If the noun is definite, a speaker then considers animacy and the relevance of number marking to the message being communicated in order to decide whether or not to mark the noun.

8.1.3 The Negerhollands Associative Plural As referring expressions, associative plurals identify a collective. Moravcsik (2003) describes associative plurals as widespread among the world’s languages although there is a “near-absence of associative plurals in western Europe” (Daniel and Moravcsik, 2008).7 Thus, it is not surprising that Alleyne (1980), den Besten (2001, citing Hesseling 1905), and Holm (1988) locate the source of Afro-Caribbean associative plurals in West African languages. Often the associative plural marker is identical to either a third person plural pronoun or an additive plural form. For example, in Akan, the additive and associative plural are encoded with the same morpheme. Less frequently, a single morpheme encodes all three functions (e-mail communication, Edith Moravcsik 7/21/2005), as it does in Ewe. Additive plurals refer to homogeneous sets while associative plurals refer to heterogeneous sets and draw their meaning from affiliations established in particular contexts. In languages in which a single form encodes both additive and associative meanings, ambiguous readings are possible, with the probability of an associative plural reading increasing with the homogeneity of the associate’s group and/or the uniqueness of the named individual (den Besten 1996, Moravcsik 2003). For example, one of de Jong’s consultants complained about di man sini fa meriki (RG 26), which can mean either ‘the men from America’ or ‘the American repre- sentative and his Washington associates’. In a second example, the details of the narrative suggest /bru ananši ɛn bru tɛkoma sin no ha sougut fo jet/ . . . (WHR 26) might mean ‘Brother Ananši and Brother Tekoma’ or ‘Brother Ananši, Brother Tekoma, and an unspecified number of associated others’. An example provided by Mrs. Stevens is similarly ambiguous because her knowledge of the community is no longer available to those

7 Paraphrastic associative plurals with explicit coordinators exist in several British (Taglimonte 2000) and American dialects, in German (Daniel and Moravcsik 2008), and in Frisian (den Besten, 1996, n 2). interlingual influence: plural marking 165 of us only now encountering her text. In reply to my asking if she knew how to slaughter pigs, she replied,

(9) mi kizin senu, sen mata di fɛrki. (MSA5B) 1.sg cousin pl 3.pl kill the pig ‘my cousins/ my cousins and one or more associates kill the pigs’

My failure to query at the time of utterance demonstrates the communicative effectiveness of the plural structure despite its morphological ambiguity: Had clarification been necessary or desirable, I could have asked for and Mrs. Stevens would have provided additional information. The examples above document associative plurals in Negerhollands. Nevertheless, they are rare in the twentieth-century data.8 One reason for this is the low rate of additive plural marking since additive plurals are more common than associative plurals in most languages (Daniel and Moravcsik 2008, referencing Barulin 1980). Genre may also contribute to their rarity since the folk tales in de Jong’s corpus have a limited number of characters and contain little contextualizing social information. A third consideration is that consultants may have assumed that neither de Jong nor I were sufficiently knowledgeable of community relationships to warrant the use of associative plurals: On the one hand, de Jong and I were many years younger than the people we spoke with and de Jong was a visi- tor to the territory. Although I was a long-time resident with multiplex ties to the community, many of the people Mrs. Stevens spoke of were dead, were no longer resident, or were community members unknown to me.

8.2 Hoch Kreol and the Language of the Evangelical Texts

As was the case for syllable structure discussed in the previous chapter, Hoch Kreol plural marking is intermediate between Negerhollands and the heritage languages of the Euro-Caribbean community. As in Negerhol- lands, the Hoch Kreol additive plural morpheme and the third person plural are related, however, there is far less variation, and there is minimal overlap between the Negerhollands and Hoch Kreol forms. Although se occurs twice as a subject pronoun in Magens’s dialogues, his 1770

8 An associative plural that refers to a servant’s ‘master and his brother’ appears in Magens’s (1770, as transcribed by Hale n.d.). Since indenture was not practiced at that time, it can be assumed that a member of the Afro-Caribbean community produced the token. 166 chapter eight grammatical description (as transcribed by Hale n.d.) identifies the Hoch Kreol third person plural subject/object/genetive pronoun forms as sender and sellie. Both are used in the dialogues although sender is considerably more frequent. The two varieties are also similar in that plural marking is optional in both systems and both make use of bare nouns. Magens’s dialogues 3 through 10 contain 74 non-singular nouns. Twelve of these are bare. Addi- tionally, although den Besten et al. (1996:38) describe Magens’s plural marking as “random,” Table 20 shows that in Hoch Kreol definite nouns are more likely to be marked for plurality than are indefinite nouns. Of 32 marked, semantically plural nouns, 91 percent are definite. Of the definite nouns, 72 percent of are marked with sender. One of these, die geppes sender (singular gesp ‘buckle’) is marked redundantly with the Germanic plural suffix. Of the 22 indefinite nouns, 86 percent were unmarked. Three indefinite nouns are marked with Dutch plurals: bejer ‘berries’ (singular bes, bezie), gedagten ‘thoughts’ (singular gedacht), and Hus Neegers ‘domestic slaves’ (singular neeger). Despite these parallels, there are quantitative differences that are consistent with the oppositional nature the Afro-Caribbean and Euro-Caribbean communities on St. Thomas. Negerhollands plural marking reveals greater influence from (New) Kwa languages while Hoch Kreol plural marking reveals more influence from Germanic languages. In Negerhollands non- singular nouns were marked for plurality at a rate of 24 percent. This is consistent with the above-mentioned pragmatic basis of plural marking in African languages. Magens’s Hoch Kreol speakers overtly signaled plurality at a rate of 44 percent. The greater tendency of Hoch Kreol speakers to mark plurality is likely influenced by the obligatory plural marking of Germanic languages. A Pearson Chi Square comparison of overall plural marking in the two varieties indicates the difference is highly significant (p = .006). There is also a difference in the rate of marking for definite

Table 20. Distribution of marked and unmarked Hoch Kreol non-singular nouns Noun Category Number Percent Bare 12 16 Marked, definite 29 40 Unmarked, definite 11 15 Marked, indefinite 3 4 Unmarked, indefinite 19 25 interlingual influence: plural marking 167

Table 21. Referents for definite, semantically plural Hoch Kreol nouns Human Non human Inanimate Animate Number marked definite nouns 12 1 15 Number unmarked definite nouns 3 0 6 nouns: Negerhollands speakers mark definite nouns at a rate of 51 percent. In contrast, Hoch Kreol speakers mark definite nouns at a rate of 73 percent. This difference is also highly significant (p = .008). Table 21 shows the Hoch Kreol pattern of plural marking with respect to the semantic feature +/‒ animate. The pattern is strikingly different from that shown in Table 19 above. For Negerhollands there was no difference in the rate of marking for humans and animates; for Hoch Kreol it is human and inanimate referents that pattern similarly. With respect to the evangelical literature, Graves (1997:111) writes that Dutch plurals “abound in the Biblical texts of both the Danish and Mora- vian missionaries.” According to Hesseling (1905 trans. in Reinecke 1937), sender was used more often by the Lutherans than by the Moravians. Stein (n.d.b) indicates that Dutch plural {-s} predominates in the Moravian materials before 1750 although both post nominal sender and prenominal algar and almal ‘all, every’ occur. He also indicates that, after 1750, the frequency of nouns without overt plural marking increases. Stein’s discussion does not distinguish unmarked definite plurals from indefinite plurals and bare nouns. However, there is evidence that the Moravians sometimes associated plurality with definiteness: all of Stein’s examples with sender are definite (e.g., die Suster sender ‘the sister pl’, mi suster sender Saphira en Apolonia en Febul ‘my sister pl Saphira and Apolonia and Febul’). In contrast, the examples he provides with the prenominal modifiers are both definite (e.g., allmal die bruder en süster ‘all the brother and sister’) and indefinite (e.g., allmal _ broeder and suster ‘all brother and sister’). Oldendorp’s (2000) examples also consistently contain definite plural nouns. However, Hinskens and van Rossem’s (1995) analysis of three Gospel Harmonies9 produced between 1779 and 1795 documents use of sender with indefinite nouns (e.g., mattaan allemaal

9 Hinskens and van Rossem (1995:75) describe the Gospel Harmonies as “a compilation of different parts of the four Gospels into a ‘life of Jesus Christ’.” 168 chapter eight

Table 22. Plural marking in three Gospel Harmonies (adapted from Hinskens and van Rossem) Percent Sender Percent Unmarked Other Gospel Harmony 1 22 21 57 Gospel Harmony 2 34 11 55 Gospel Harmony 3 2 2 96

Kind sender ‘kill all children’) in violation of the Negerhollands constraint. These texts also contain Dutch plurals and redundantly marked forms. Tracing the frequencies of pronominal and plural sender across the three texts, Hinskens and van Rossem arrive at the distribution shown in Table 22. According to their examples, the category unmarked includes both unmarked definite and indefinite nouns. The conflation of definite and indefinite nouns makes direct comparison with the other two varieties difficult. However, it appears that in the first Harmony Gospel plural marking with sender occurs at a rate similar to that of Negerhollands. Across the texts, this rate fluctuates considerably suggesting that the plural marking strategy used by the Moravians was not that of Negerhollands.

8.3 Summary

The preceding discussion of plural marking in Virgin Islands Dutch Creole supports the prediction made in Chapter 2: similarities between plural marking in Negerhollands and Hoch Kreol are attributable to the partial borrowing of creole features by members of the Euro-Caribbean community. Negerhollands speakers optionally pluralized referring expressions, especially if they were + animate. This characteristic, which Negerhol- lands shares with other Afro-Caribbean vernaculars, reveals Africans’ reliance on their (New) Kwa language resources. Hoch Kreol borrowed optional marking, and plural marking in this variety is also conditioned by semantic features. However, the speakers in Magens’s dialogues marked both definite and indefinite nouns for plurality, and they marked plurality more frequently than did Negerhollands speakers. This too appears to reflect heritage language patterns. The partial borrowing of Negerhollands features into Hoch Kreol suggests that the Negerhollands features emerged in the late seventeenth. Additionally, the discussion provides evidence of internal development in Negerhollands: Mrs. Stevens’s use of /sen/ as a subject pronoun also is interlingual influence: plural marking 169 documented in the late eighteenth century. Magens’s use of se as a subject pronoun prompts speculation that this may have been an earlier development. This raises the possibility that examination of older evangelical texts will provide additional insight into the development of pronominal case in Negerhollands. The next chapter, which examines serial verb constructions, provides additional evidence of the resourcefulness of the colony’s Afro-Caribbean community and further illustrates the partial borrowing of Negerhollands features by Hoch Kreol speakers.

Chapter nine

Interlingual Influence: Verb Serialization

Bring come, carry go; no tell the truth1 (Virgin Islands proverb)

9.0 Introduction

The proverb above contains two directional serial verb constructions: /briŋ come/ ‘bring here’ and /carry go/ ‘take away’. Speakers of about one-third of the world’s languages use such constructions (Dixon 2006). Verb serialization is an “old,” widespread feature of sub-Saharan languages (Greenberg 1983, Childs 2003:137) that reflects both historical relatedness and the fact that verb serialization is a highly diffusable “syntactic resource” (Aikhenvald 2006:56). Within sub-Saharan Africa, verb serialization is “extremely” common in Kwa languages (Schachter 1974:254), including the three (New) Kwa languages that are relevant to creole genesis in the Danish West Indies: Akan, Ewe, and Ga. German grammarians first described Akan verb serialization at the end of the nineteenth century. Ewe verb serialization was described at the beginning of the twentieth century (Aikhenvald 2006). The influence of these languages on an Afro-Caribbean vernacular was first discussed by Schuchardt 1914 (Meijer and Muysken 1977). Later work on verb serialization in Afro-Caribbean vernaculars (e.g., F. Byrne 1994, Faraclas 1989, Sebba 1987) also recognizes similarities between the syntax and the semantics of particular serial verb constructions in West African languages and the Atlantic creoles. Recent discussions of verb serialization differentiate symmetrical serial verb constructions, which contain two (major) lexical verbs, from asymmetrical serial verb constructions, which consist of a minor and a major verb. Major verbs are unrestricted by semantic or grammatical category except that they cannot be copulas, or existential or stative verbs

1 In Negerhollands, this would be /briŋ ko, dra lo; no se di wawa/. It warns those who gossip to consider all sides of a story (Valls 1983). 172 chapter nine

(Aikhenvald 2006). Minor verbs are drawn from restricted classes. Sym- metrical and asymmetrical serial verb constructions have different developmental trajectories: symmetrical serial verb constructions tend to lexicalize while minor verbs in asymmetrical serial verb constructions tend to grammaticalize, losing their verbal status. Negerhollands speakers used coordination, subordination, complementation, and clause chaining to encode complex events. The twentieth-century corpus also provides numerous two-verb and multiverb serial verb constructions. Among the verbs that participate in these are /briŋ/ ‘bring’, /drai/ ‘return’, /flig/ ‘fly’, /džomp/ ‘jump’, /kuri/ ‘run’, /sti/ ‘send’, /rup/ ‘call’, /ma(k)/ ‘make’, /kri/ ‘get’, and /ne/ ‘take’. Others appear in the examples below. All exhibit characteristics discussed in the literature on verb serialization (e.g., Aikhenvald 2006, Creissels 2000, Schachter 1974):

• they are monoclausal • they occur under a single intonation contour • there are no overt markers of coordination or syntactic dependency • they represent either a single event, or sequential or concomitant subevents • the participating verbs also occur as unitary verbs • the verbs in serial verb constructions are generally contiguous • Sequences of two verbs are considerably more frequent than longer sequences

While the verbs in Negerhollands serial verb constructions typically have the same subject, switch-function serial verb constructions, in which the object of the first verb (V1) is the subject of the second verb (V2), also occur. Because of this, as in Akan (Schachter 1974), Negerhollands symmetrical serial verb constructions can have two readings as in (10).

(10) so dan am a rup tekoma ko . . . (WHR 58)2 so then 3.sg pst call tekoma come . . . ‘so then s/he called Tekoma to come . . .’ ‘so then s/he called Tekoma and Tekoma came . . .’

2 Examples are identified by speaker or writer. Serial verbs in the examples appear in bold. Other forms and structures under discussion are underlined. interlingual influence: verb serialization 173

Generally tense, mood, and aspect particles precede only the first verb in a Negerhollands serial verb construction. Such singly marked serial verb constructions, according to Aikhenvald (2006:44), encode more cohesive structures with argument sharing. Negerhollands also permits serial verb constructions in which aspect markers are copied as in (11).

(11) ki am lo kuri lo lo. (WAJ9) see 3.sg prog run prog go ‘see him/her running away’

Here the progressive marker is copied onto the second verb. This parallels Akan (Schachter 1974), and Ga (Kropp Dakubu, Hellan, and Beermann n.d.) in which tense and aspect are generally repeated. In Ewe, serial verbs share the same tense and mood but can be marked for different aspect categories (Ameka 2006:128) as in (12). In this symmetrical serial verb construction, /ka/ identifies the first verb, /stan/ ‘stand’, as perfective3 while the second verb, /ki/ ‘look’, is marked with progressive /lo/.

(12) . . . ham a drom, am a ki . . . 3.sg pst dream, 3.sg pst see en frou ka stan lo ki bo am (WAJ2) a woman pfv stand ipfv look over 3.sg ‘. . . s/he dreamed that s/he saw a woman (who) had stood over (him) looking at him’

The sections below examine ten Negerhollands verbs: /gi/ ‘give’, /kaba/ ‘finish’, /ko(m)/ ‘come’, /lo/ ‘go’, /ma(k)/ ‘make’, /maŋke/ ‘want’, /ne/ ‘take’, /se/ ‘say’, /stat/ ‘start’, and /wɛl/ ‘like’. All occur as unitary verbs and in serial verb constructions in the twentieth-century data. Six of these, /lo/, /kaba/, /ko(m)/, /gi/, /ne/, and /se/, occur in asymmetrical serial verb constructions and participate in grammaticalization chains. Two-verb, serial verb constructions are discussed in section 9.1. Section 9.2 examines the structure of Negerhollands multiverb constructions. Section 9.3 explores three unresolved issues with respect to the history of serial verb constructions in Virgin Islands Dutch Creole: When did serial verb constructions emerge? Did Hoch Kreol have serial verb constructions?

3 Perfective aspect identifies an event as having no internal structure. Imperfective aspect, which is discussed below, identifies events as ongoing, repeated, or habitual. 174 chapter nine

What were Negerhollands serial verb constructions like prior to the twentieth century?

9.1 Negerhollands Two-Verb Serial Verb Constructions

As in most productively serializing languages (Aikhenvald 2006), directional serial verb constructions are very frequent in Negerhollands. This was taken into account when the data for two-verb asymmetrical and symmetrical serial verb constructions discussed below were coded. The coding of the directional serial verbs /lo/, and /ko/, which respectively indicate movement “away or toward the speaker or other point of reference” (Graves 1977:155), was limited to the three speakers who produced the most data: Mrs. Stevens and two of de Jong’s consultants, Mr. Joshua and Mr. Roberts. All available data were coded for Mrs. Stevens and Mr. Joshua. However, only a portion of Mr. Roberts’s data was coded in order to produce a number of /lo/ tokens roughly equivalent to those produced by Mr. Joshua. The same texts were coded for /ko/. The tokens for the remaining verbs, which occur less frequently, were drawn all of the de Jong (1926) narratives and all of my conversations with Mrs. Stevens.

9.1.1 Negerhollands /lo/ As the examples below illustrate, Negerhollands /lo/ has several grammatical functions. In (13) it occurs as a unitary verb. It occurs as a minor verb in asymmetrical serial verb constructions as shown in example (14a). In (14b) it is a major verb in a symmetrical serial verb construction. The next two examples show the grammaticalization of /lo/ to encode imperfective aspect, which can be iterative as in (15a) or progressive as in (15b). In (16) /lo/ functions as a marker of proximate future.4

unitary Verb (13) an ka lo a hus (MSA 7A) 3.sg pfv go loc house ‘s/he has gone home’

4 Less frequent than /lo/ in the twentieth-century material, /sa(l)/, has a range of remote and hypothetical meanings (e.g., /so di noli see: ko lo mi ons a briment, ju sal ma siŋman/ ‘So the donkey says: come go with us to Bremmen; you r/h fut. become (a) singer’ [WAJ 6]). Hoch Kreol does not distinguish proximate from remote/ hypothetical future. interlingual influence: verb serialization 175

Serial Verb—minor element (14a) am ∅5 lo kri di duksak mais 3.sg pst dira/purp get the sack corn ko gi di hunduhan (WHR 46) come give 3.sg rooster ‘s/he went away and got/to get the sack of corn and returned and gave/to give/ it to the rooster’ Serial Verb—major element (14b) am ha flig lo (WAJ 2) 3.sg pst fly go ‘s/he flew away’

imperfective Aspect (15a) am a ha am lo kok ši jit, lo 3.sg pst have 3.sg ipfv cook 3.sg.poss food, ipfv pik houtu, lo dra watʌ fo am (WAJ 9) gather wood, ipfv carry water for 3.sg ‘s/he repeatedly had him/her cooking his/her food, gathering wood, and fetching water for him/her’ (15b) wɛnɛ hun ha bin lo spil, puši maŋke di (MSA 10A) when dog have bone ipfv play, cat want 3.sg ‘when a dog is playing with a bone, a cat wants it’

proximate Future (16) mi lo fluk senu lɛluk (MSA 23A) 1.sg pfut curse 3.sg bad ‘I am going to curse them out’

Heine, Claudi, and Hünnermeyer (1991) describe such sets of overlapping grammatical relations as grammaticalization chains. According to their formulation, although non-contiguous items do not overlap, the semantic overlap between contiguous links in the chain reflects the fact that older form/meaning relationships are not automatically effaced by the emergence of new ones. This is what we find for /lo/. Of the 1,274 /lo/ tokens coded for this chapter, 38 percent were main verbs, 23 percent occurred in serial verb constructions, 23 percent encoded imperfective aspect, and 16 percent signaled proximate future. At successive points in the grammaticalization chain, the original semantic content of /lo/ decreases as the functional force of the morpheme increases. As (13) illustrates, when used as a main verb, /lo/ indicates movement. When used as a minor verb

5 The tense of the gloss reflects the tense of the narrative, which is set in the past. 176 chapter nine in an asymmetrical serial verb construction, as in (14a), /lo/ has a directional and/or purposive meaning. In symmetrical serial verb constructions, as in (14b), /lo/ appears as (V2). In this position, /lo/ functions as a lexical verb that is partially synonymous with (V1), /flig/ ‘fly’, which provides additional detail about the manner of departure. Such synonymy is characteristic of symmetrical serial verbs (Aikenwald 2006). In examples (15a, b) and (16), /lo/ encodes only grammatical meanings. In its entirety, the /lo/ grammaticalization chain reflects common relationships: unitary verbs participate in asymmetrical and symmetrical serial verb constructions, and minor verbs in asymmetrical serial verb constructions grammaticalize into tense, mood, and aspect markers (Aikhen- vald 2006, Creissels 2000, Heine, Ulrike, and Hünnermeyer 1991, Mufwene 1988). The progression from imperfective aspect to proximate future is also common (Parkvall 2000). Figure 10 illustrates the Negerhollands grammaticalization chain for /lo/ as documented in the twentieth-century data. The several meanings of /lo/ also occur in combination: main verb /lo/ occurs with imperfective /lo/ as in (17) and with proximate future /lo/ as in (18) and (19).

(17) wɛnɛ mi lo lo a gut a moruk when 1.sg ipfv go loc stream in morning mi lo mi di noli (MSA 26A) 1.sg go with the donkey ‘whenever I go to the stream in the morning, I go with the donkey’

(18) mi lo lo a hus, nauwun (MSA 1A) 1.sg pfut go loc house, good evening ‘I’m going home, good evening’

(19) ham a se: mi lo lo jit alga fa ju (WAJ 9) 3.sg pst say: 1.sg pfut eat all of 2.sg ‘He said, “I’m going to eat all of you” ’

The directional and purposive meanings of the asymmetrical verb and the progressive meaning of aspectual /lo/ also are combined in the idiom /lo

MAIN SERIAL PROGRESSIVE PROXIMATE VERB VERB ASPECT FUTURE

Figure 10. A grammaticalization chain for Negerhollands /lo/ interlingual influence: verb serialization 177 slap/. For example, Mrs. Stevens produced /mi a wɛs a di bere lo slap/ ‘I was in the bed, asleep/sleeping’ and /ju ha fo lo slap huŋgu fanda duŋku/ ‘You have to go to bed/(go to) sleep hungry tonight’. One of de Jong’s consultants provides /am ka lei a gron lo slap mi ši twe kin/ ‘s/he had lain on the ground with her two children to sleep/asleep/sleeping’. In a somewhat parallel fashion, progressive aspect and proximate future meanings are combined in /regun lo ko/ it’s raining/it will rain’. However, since these meanings map directly onto the structure of the phrase, /regun lo ko/ is not an idiom. Negerhollands /lo/ also occurs in multiverb constructions, as discussed in 9.3.

9.1.2 Negerhollands /kaba/, /stat/, and /bigin/ Three change-of-state verbs, /kaba/ ‘finish’, /stat/ ‘start’, and /bigin/ ‘begin’, occur as unitary verbs as in examples (20) through (22) and as minor verbs in asymmetrical serial verb constructions as shown in (23) through (25).6 As minor verbs, they provide “a modification specification” of the major verbs whose “transitivity values” they share (Aikhenvald 2006:22, 23). Neither /stat/ nor /bigin/ has grammaticalized. However, example (23), which contains both the asymmetrical serial verb construction /kaba stam/ and /stam/ marked as perfective with /ka/, demonstrates that like /lo/, /kaba/ is associated with a grammaticalization chain. As a grammatical element, /ka/ functions at the level of the clause as a marker of perfective aspect. At the level of discourse, /ka/ serves to mark background events and out-of-sequence clauses in narratives (Sabino 1986). The transitive causative construction, discussed in Chapter 2 (e.g., /ka moi/ ‘be(come) beautiful’) is also part of this chain. The relationship is seen clearly in utterances like /di kabai ka sal/ ‘the horse is/has been/ has become saddled’. Modal [ka], a variant of /kan/ ‘can’, is unrelated to /kaba/.

(20) am a rup fo me wɛni am a kaba (WHR 55) 3.sg pst call for more when 3.sg pst finish ‘s/her called for more when s/he finished’

(21) di twe fa sini a stat (JAT 19) the two of 3.sg pst start ‘the two of them started’

6 Bruyn and Veenstra (1993) identify what they call “ ‘finish’ serialization.” The data set with which they worked did not contain serial verbs with /bigin/. 178 chapter nine

(22) dan di twe puši a bigin then the two cat pst begin fo mata eke roto . . . (Unknown 24) to kill every rat . . . ‘then the two cats began to kill every rat . . .’

(23) . . . wɛni am a kaba stam dʌ sout, . . . when 3.sg pst finish pound the salt, džak a rup am fo ko ki, Jack pst call 3.sg to dirt see, as dʌ sout ka stam fin gʌnu (WHR 48) if the salt pfv pound fine enough ‘. . . when he finished pounding the salt, Jack called him/her to come and see if the salt had been pounded finely enough’

(24) am a stat kurí (WAJ 8) 3.sg pst start run ‘s/he started running/to run’

(25) di win a bigin blas. the wind pst begin blow ‘the wind began to blow’

9.1.3 Negerhollands /ko(m)/ Like /lo/, /ko(m)/ occurs as a unitary verb, as in (26). It also occurs in asymmetrical serial verb constructions, as in (27), where it encodes both a directional and a purposive meanings. When used in symmetrical serial verb constructions, /ko(m)/ retains its lexical meaning, as in (28). Additionally, /ko(m)/ can be used in an “imperative function used to add pressure or persuasion” (Allsopp 1996:164). When used this way with its own intonation contour /ko(m)/ functions as a unitary verb. When the intonation contour is not separate, as in (29), it functions as an asymmetrical serial verb. There is also a verb that occurs only as /ko/ ‘completion or achievement without an external agent’ in the twentieth-century texts, as in (30). This homophonony arises, as it did in the English-lexicon creoles, with the loss of the initial unstressed syllable in become. This verb is unrelated to directional /ko(m)/.

(26) wɛnɛ mi a hopo mi hogo, when 1.sg pst open 1.sg.poss eye, sen a ko abɛnɛ fo kam mi {hair} (MSA 15A) 3.pl pst come in to comb 1.sg.poss hair ‘when I woke up, they came in to comb my hair’ interlingual influence: verb serialization 179

(27) . . . am nu kan ko ko tre di gut it . . . (WHR 46) . . . 3.sg now can dirt purp dig 3.sg thing out . . . ‘. . . s/he could now come in order to remove the thing . . .’

(28) nit en kopu am na kan kri kom it . . . (WAJ 11) not a/one penny 3.sg neg can get come out ‘not a/one penny could fall out . . .’ (29) ko lo mi mi a hus, a ju blif (MSA 6A) imp go with 1.sg loc house, if 2.sg please ‘take me home, please’ (30) am ha ka ko hou . . . (WAJ 6) 3.sg pst backg become old . . . ‘s/he had become old . . .’

Coding the same data sets that were coded for /lo/ produced 441 tokens of /ko(m)/. Main verbs comprised 65 percent of these. Two of the tokens refer to birth order; the remainder encode physical movement away from the speaker or another point of reference. The remaining directional /ko(m)/ tokens appear in serial verb constructions. As Figure 11 illustrates, the greater frequency of serial verb constructions containing /lo/ when compared to /ko(m)/ (39 versus 30 percent) reflects choices by made by Mr. Roberts and Mrs. Stevens. Coding also revealed two partially lexicalized symmetrical serial verbs that van Diggelen (1978) misidentifies as adverbs.

44 45 41 34 32 31 28 30 /lo/ /ko(m)/ 15

0 WAJMSA WHR Figure 11. Percentage of Negerhollands directional serial verb constructions by speaker 180 chapter nine

In Negerhollands, adverbs follow verbs, as in kri kom it ‘get come out’ in (28) above. With this in mind, van Diggelen analyzes /ko(m)/ in sentences like (29) as “[a]n adverb meaning ‘hither, in this direction’ ” (77). However, in sentences like (28) and the switch-function serial verb construction in (31), /ko(m)/ retains its verbal meaning.

(31) sateda twalʌf i sinu a briŋ watu ko (WHR73) Saturday twelve hour 3.pl pst bring water ko ‘Saturday noon, they brought forth the water and the water began flowing’

Van Diggelen treats /lo/ in the same fashion, rejecting the idea that either “is a remainder of a serial verb construction” (76). Additional evidence for the verbal status of these elements appears in (32), in which both /flig/ and /lo/ are marked for past tense, confirming /lo/ as a major verb in a symmetrical serial verb construction.

(32) am a ne di sak 3.sg pst take the sack astʌr dʌ kren a flig a lo (WAJ 13) after the crane pst fly pst go ‘s/he took the sack after the crane flew away’

A more satisfactory solution recognizes that, as indicated above, symmetrical serial verb constructions tend to lexicalize. Although sentences like (31) indicate this process was not complete when the data analyzed here were collected, this seems to have been happening with both /briŋ ko/ ‘bring here’ and /drai ko/ ‘return’, in which the second verb always has the form /ko/ (not /kom/), as shown in examples (33) and (34).

(33) dʌ polisman a skreu: briŋ di difman ko (WAJ 6) the policeman pst scream: bring the thiefman come ‘the policeman screamed, “bring the thief here” ’

(34) am drai ko werán a džak 3.sg turn back come again loc Jack ‘s/he returns to Jack’

9.1.4 Negerhollands /gi/ Example (35) contains the lexical verb /gi/ ‘give’, which appears 211 times in the twentieth-century data. Additionally /gi/ occurs once as a symmetrical serial verb. This appears as (36). It also appears as a major element in four directional asymmetrical verb constructions, as in (37). interlingual influence: verb serialization 181

(35) so di kiniŋ a gi sinu so the king pst give 3.pl wa am a blof sinu (WHR 79) what 3.sg pst promise 3.pl ‘so the king gave them what s/he promised them’

(36) . . . dat sini no wel gi ons pobu negʌ . . . that 3.sg neg want give 1.pl poor negro bitši sopi self fo driŋ (Unknown 27) bit rum even to drink ‘. . . that they didn’t want to give us poor Negroes even a little rum to drink’

(37) weni sinu a briŋ di kui sinu when 3.pl pst bring the cow pl fo ko gi watu . . . (WHR 73) to come give water . . . ‘when they brought the cows to water them . . .’

Commenting that de Jong (1926) glosses /gi/ as a dative particle, Graves (1977:156) identifies a “complement function” and insightfully links /gi/ to “common verb combining patterns in West African Languages.” Similar serial verb constructions occur in Akan, Ga, and Ewe (Parkvall 2000:73, n 49), the (New) Kwa languages in use in St. Thomas during the period of creole genesis. Migge (1998) provides examples of these in her comparison of “give-type” serial verb constructions in Twi, Ewe, and Ndjuka. Taking a different approach, Van Diggelen (1978:76) considers whether /gi/ in sentences such as (36) and (37) is a “remainder of a serial verb construction” or a preposition but decides the best description is one in which the complementizer /fo/ has been deleted. In contrast (interestingly in the same publication) Jansen, Koopman and Muysken (1978) recognize that, as shown in (36) and (37), Negerhollands /gi/ appears in benefactive serial verb constructions parallel to those in other Afro-Caribbean vernaculars. In example (38), /gi/ also introduces a beneficiary. In example (39), /gi/ introduces a recipient. The order of the verbs in these constructions is unlike that of other Negerhollands asymmetrical serial verb constructions in which the grammaticalized minor verb precedes the major verb. That is, /gi/ asymmetrical serial verb constructions have the order NP1 V1 NP2 gi NP3. The glosses for (38) and (39) suggest the semantic bleaching that typi- fies grammaticalization. However, although Migge discusses several tests that allow her to determine that /gi/ is a preposition in the Surinamese 182 chapter nine creoles as it is in Ewe, the limited Negerhollands data and the unavailabil- ity of native speakers do not allow for the application of her tests.

(38) bru kakates a se an: brother lizard pst say 3.sg: as ju kan faŋ som fligi gi mi, . . . (AC44) if 2.sg can catch some fly ben 1.sg, . . . ‘Brother lizard said to him/her: if you can catch some flies for me . . .’

(39) di difi sini am a kan goi the dove pl 3.sg pst can throw mais mi ris gi sini (WAJ 7) corn and rice rec 3.pl ‘he could throw corn and rice to the doves’

9.1.5 Negerhollands /ne/ Negerhollands /ne/ ‘take’ appears as a main verb, as in (40), 222 times in the twentieth-century data. However, serial verb constructions with ne are so infrequent that Graves (1977) does not list ne among her complement types, and Jansen, Koopman and Muysken (1978); Muysken and Veenstra (1995); and Parkvall (2000) identify Negerhollands as lacking ‘take’ serial verb constructions. Mr. Joshua used ne only as a main verb. However, Mr. Roberts twice used /ne/ in symmetrical serial verb constructions. One of these is shown in (41). De Jong (1926) also documents two asymmetrical instrumental serial verb constructions containing /ne/. One of these is shown in (42). Mrs. Stevens produced /nen di ma sʌp/ ‘make soap with it’ parallel to (42). Additionally there are two comitative serial verb constructions with /ne/, as shown in examples (43) and (44).

(40) wɛn ju gi fuluk en gut ɛn ju ne di weran, when 2.sg give a person a thing and 2.sg take 3.sg again, sen se di no mi frai (MSA 12A) 3.pl say 3.sg neg be good ‘when you give someone something and you take it back, they say that isn’t good’

(41) dan am a lo rapo ne en steki mes (WHR 54) then 3.sg pst dira pickup take a piece knife ‘then s/he went and picked up a piece of a knife’ interlingual influence: verb serialization 183

(42) a dri dak tit am sa in three day time 3.sg r/h fut ko ne ši futu ma en klen flute (WHR52) come take 3.sg.poss foot make a small flute ‘in three days, s/he will come and/in order to make a flute with his/ her foot’

(43) ham a ne am lo lo suk fu 3.sg pst take 3.sg dira purp/ipfv look for ši ma mi fadʌ jusiʌs (WAJ 2) 3.sg.poss mother and father Acrisius7 ‘s/he went away with him/her to look for his/her mother and father Acrisius’ ‘s/he away with him/her looking for his/her mother and father Acrisius’

(44) bru roto a ne ši twe mat roto a ko brother rat pst take 3.sg.poss two mate rat pst come jit eke broki fa bru puši kas mi rezʌ (Unknown 24) eat every bit of brother cat cheese and lard ‘brother rat accompanied by his two rat friends ate all brother cat’s cheese and lard’

9.1.6 Negerhollands /se/ Lord (1993) discusses the historical relation of the Twi quotative to both the main verb /se/ ‘say’ and the complementizer /sɛ/, and Parkvall (2000:64) reports that “complementizers derived from verbs meaning ‘say’ . . . introducing clauses not necessarily containing reported speech” are documented in Akan, Ga, and Ewe. Graves (1977:109) identifies /se/ in (45) as a subordinating conjunction as does Stolz (1986, reported in den Besten and van der Voort 1999). Jansen, Koopman, and Muysken (1978) identify complementizers derived from the lexical verb ‘say’ in several English-lexicon creoles but designate complementizer /se/ as absent from Negerhollands. Den Besten and van der Voort (1999:401), like Jansen, Koopman, and Muysken, see Negerhollands as “clearly divergent” from the English-lexicon creoles in this respect. Den Besten and van der Voort (1999) are correct in their analysis of /wet se fo kok/ ‘know __ to cook/ as containing the third person plural pronoun, not a complementizer. They also recognize that (45) contains complementizer /se/ but “prefer” to consider this a “nonce loan from

7 This narrative is a retelling of the Perseus myth. 184 chapter nine

English Creole.” However, there are two strands of evidence that combine to suggest that /se/ in (45) is a Negerhollands complementizer.8 From a historical perspective, as Sprauve (1981) convincingly agues, the variety of Virgin Islands English Creole spoken on St. Thomas and St. John descended from Negerhollands. This suggests that the features shared by the two varieties are due to descent. The second strand of evidence is linguistic. In addition to (45), /se/ appears in serial verb constructions that introduce direct quotations. Several of these are shown below in examples (46) through (48).

(45) nu di kiniŋ no a wet se dʌ man now the king neg pst know comp the man a ka ma en bot zeil bo di lan (WHR 55) pst can make a boat sail on the land ‘now, the king didn’t know that the man could make a boat sail on land’

The single past-tense marker before /rup it, se/ in (49) and the inconsis- tent punctuation before /se/ in de Jong (1926) with indirect speech, as shown in (50) and (51), also suggests that /krew it se/ in (48) is also a serial verb. In fact, depending on how the punctuation is interpreted, multiple readings are possible for /se/ in (50) and (51). It might be that / se/ was intended as a unitary verb in the second of two chained clauses. It also could be V2 in a serial verb construction. It might also be a complementizer.

(46) . . . wɛni di džumbi a se prat a di hus: . . . when 3.sg jumbi pst say talk loc the house: meme ko meme (WHR 45) meme ko meme ‘. . . when the jumbi said to the house, “meme ko meme”’

(47) am a krew it se: didio didio didio . . . (WHR 61) 3.sg pst scream out say: didio didio didio . . . ‘s/he screamed out, “didio didio didio . . .” ’

8 Reversing a claim in Sabino 1992, I am now reluctant to interpret a token of hoor seg in one of Magens’s dialogues as instance of productive verb serialization. (See Table 24.) interlingual influence: verb serialization 185

(48) bot dʌ kakates alma di tit bi bo di bom ‘but the lizard all the time is up the tree lo krew it se: ipfv scream out say: dʌ lef nu kan graf mi di doot (WHR 66) the living neg can bury with the dead ‘but all the while, the lizard up in the tree is screaming, saying “the living cannot be buried with the dead”

(49) am a rup it, se: mi nu ko enestu ple fodima 3.sg pst call out say: 1.sg neg come any place because . . . jen nu wel bital mi (WHR 57) . . . 2.sg neg like pay 1.sg ‘s/he called out saying/said, “I can’t come anywhere because . . . you won’t want to pay me” ’

(50) den di domni ha grumble, then the priest pst grumble, se am ka mata di zedibʌl. . . . (WAJ 2) say/comp 3.sg pfv kill the sea devil. . . . ‘the priest grumbled said/that he had killed the sea devil. . . .’

(51) am a kreu it se, 3.sg pst scream out say, am nu maŋke fo lo hewun (WHR 57) 3.sg neg want to go heaven ‘s/he screamed out said/that s/he doesn’t want to go to heaven’

When these points are considered in light of how productive serialization was in Negerhollands, it seems likely members of the Danish colony’s Afro-Caribbean community deployed asymmetrical /se/ serial verbs constructions at about the same time and under the same conditions that prompted grammaticalization of other structures. Reasons for their scarcity in the twentieth-century data are considered in section 9.3.

9.1.7 Negerhollands /maŋke/ and /wɛl/ Two verbs that occur only in symmetrical serial verb constructions are /maŋke/ ‘want’ and /wɛl/ ‘be willing, wish, like, love’. Bardovi-Harlig (2006:72) identifies such verbs as encoding “a lexical future” since they signal current conditions/desires that might (or might not) be fufilled. For example, in (52) the werewolf to whom the pronoun refers fails to drain the blood from his intended victim, and in (53), the girls find themselves in hell, rather than at an architectural wonder. 186 chapter nine

(52) am a maŋke fo titi di kin (MSA 13A) 3.sg pst want to suck the child ‘s/he wanted to drain the child’s blood’

(53) so ons wɛl fo ki di (WHR 49) so 1.pl want to see 3.sg ‘so we want to see it’

Van Diggelen (1978) identifies /maŋke/ and /wɛl/ in sentences such as these as verbs. However, in sentences like (54) and (55), he classifies /maŋke/ and /wɛl/ as modal auxiliaries, grouping them with /kan/ ‘can’ and /mut/ ‘must’.9 De Klein (2007:261), citing examples that appear in van Diggelen, also identifies /maŋke/ as “auxiliary-like.” However, eval- uating these sequences according to the criteria listed in the introduction indicates that, despite their future intent, /maŋke/ and /wɛl/ in such sentences are better analyzed as major verbs in symmetrical serial verb constructions.

(54) di kiniŋ ha maŋke ne di ma the king pst want take the mother fa fada jusiʌs (WAJ 2) from father acrisius. ‘the king wanted to take the mother from father Acrisius’

(55) ju no wɛl antut mi (MSA 5B) 2.sg neg want answer 1.sg ‘you don’t want to answer me’

Both /maŋke/ and /wɛl/ also occur with /fo/ complements. Table 23 illustrates the frequency of these alternative discourse strategies in the two

Table 23. The number of serial verb constructions and /fo/ complements for /maŋke/ and /wɛl/

Mrs. Stevens De Jong’s Consultants /maŋke/+ V2 40 13 /maŋke fo/ + V 7 17 /wɛl/+ V2 4 21 /wɛl fo/ + V 3 0

9 Van Diggelen (1978) correctly analyzes two tokens of wil from Magens (1770) as auxiliaries. interlingual influence: verb serialization 187 corpora under consideration. Mrs. Stevens demonstrates a stronger preference for serial verb constructions with /maŋke/; the opposite is true for de Jong’s consultants. Mrs. Stevens produced 143 tokens of /maŋke/ during our conversations. A good many of these were followed by nouns because Mrs. Stevens used imaginary shopping forays to teach me the names of food items. Forty tokens of /maŋke/ (28 percent) occurred in symmetrical serial verb constructions.10 Seven tokens introduced infinitival /fo/ complements. Of the 75 tokens of /maŋke/ in the de Jong corpus (produced by Mr. Joshua and three other consultants) 13 or 17 percent occur in serial verb constructions. Seventeen tokens introduce infinitival /fo/ complements. The difference between the two /maŋke/ data sets is largely attributable to Mr. Roberts who, although he produced one-third of the tokens in the de Jong corpus, produced no serial verbs with /maŋke/. As with /maŋke/, many of Mrs. Steven’s 40 /wɛl/ tokens were followed by noun phrases. Only four, or 10 percent, occurred in symmetrical serial verb constructions; three tokens introduced infinitival /fo/ complements. For /wɛl/, Mr. Joshua, Mr. Roberts, and two others preferred serial verb constructions producing them at a rate of 62 percent, and there are no instances of /wɛl/with /fo/ complements.

9.1.8 Negerhollands /ma(k)/ Negerhollands /ma(k)/ ‘make’ occurs as a unitary verb, as in (56). It also occurs in symmetrical “cause-effect” serial verb constructions, as in (57). According to Aikhenvald (2006:16) such switch-function symmetrical serial verb constructions, in which the object of /ma(k)/ is the subject the second verb, are “a widespread device for causation formation.” She also indicates that languages with both asymmetrical and symmetrical causative serial verb constructions are unattested. Thus, the absence in Negerhollands of asymmetrical /ma(k)/ serial verb constructions is to be expected.

(56) . . . an ju ma senu maŋkandu. (MSA 3B) . . . and 2.sg make 3.pl together. ‘. . . and you combine them’

10 Mrs. Stevens also produced one token of /maŋke lo wandu/ ‘want go walk’ in which /maŋke/ is followed by an asymmetrical serial verb construction. 188 chapter nine

(57) dri hogo a ma am sak en se: three eye pst caus 3.sg get down and say: ta mi klim (WAJ 12) let 1.sg climb ‘three eye forced him/her to get down and said: let me climb up’

9.2 Negerhollands Multiverb Serial Verb Constructions

As indicated above, Negerhollands speakers produced serial verb constructions with more than two verbs. Re-examining the coded data for the ten verbs discussed above identified 33 multiverb serial verb constructions. Most of these are three-verb sequences. Four-verb sequences are infrequent, as Holm (2006) reports. “[A]symmetrical S[erial] V[erb] C[onstructions] can contain a SVC as one of its components” (Aikhenvald 2006:36). Most of the multiverb serial verb constructions were of this type with /lo/ or /ko/ as the first verb in the sequence, as in (58) and (59).

(58) kiniŋ jusiʌs ha se: lo + [lo briŋ] di. (WAJ 2) King jusiʌs pst say: dira purp bring 3.sg. ‘King Acrisius said, “go, go to bring it” ’

(59) sini se, am ko + [lo ki] 3.sg say, 3.pl dirt purp see ‘they tell him/her to come in order to see’

The remaining multiverb serial constructions are valence increasing, as in (59) or they encode a sequence of subevents, as in (60). Example (61) combines contains both types.

(60) am a ne ši bot weran 3.sg pst take 3.sg.poss boat again goi a ze zeil fo ma stibu. (WHR 55) throw loc sea sail to make money. ‘again, s/he took his/her boat, threw it into the sea, and sailed away to make his/her fortune’

(61) . . . ju fo lo + wapi di lion sinu bi . . . 2.sg to go where the lion pl are [lo šini] + en fa ši kleen fiŋgu, purp cut one of 3.sg.poss small finger hal + di [briŋ ko] + gi mi (WHR 54) haul 3.sg bring dirt ben 1.sg ‘. . . you have to go where the lions are in order to cut one of their small fingers, carry it, and bring it here for me’ interlingual influence: verb serialization 189

9.3 A Proposed History of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole Serial Verb Constructions

Although, available data do not permit us to determine if /gi/ is a preposition in Negerhollands, four other unresolved issues with respect to the history of serial verb constructions in Virgin Islands Dutch Creole can be addressed: How did serial verb constructions emerge? When did they emerge? Did they also exist in Hoch Kreol? What was the original Neg- erhollands serial verb construction inventory like? Each of these questions is explored below.

9.3.1 How did Serial Verb Constructions Emerge? Chaudenson (1979) and Mufwene (1996) propose that verb serialization results from the over generalization of lexifier verb sequences like Eng- lish go/come get. However, as Jansen, Koopman, and Muysken (1978:127) indicate, “only those languages with a direct Kwa substratum evidence serialization.” Additionally, as Aikhenvald (2006) and Parkvall (2000) point out, lexifier verb sequences constructions differ from serial verbs in a number of ways, including restrictions on tense and aspect, and on register use. This is because, as shown in the glosses in section 9.4, such verb sequences allow the insertion of a conjunction or a morpheme that signals syntactic dependency. The alternative position, that verb serialization in Afro-Caribbean vernaculars reflects the influence of West African languages is widely held in Creole Studies. Evidence discussed in this and previous chapters points to (New) Kwa as the source for Negerhollands serial verb constructions. The first cohorts of Africans landed in the Danish colony spoke languages that Creissels (2000:240) associates with “[u]ncontroversial cases of serial verbs.” However, unlike the Saramaccan creoles (Migge 1998), the considerable differences between verb serialization in Negerhollands and contemporary Akan (Osam 2008) and Ewe (Ameka 2006) effectively rule out direct descent. This suggests that Negerhollands verb serialization origi- nates in “discourse organization and information packaging” (Aikhenvald 2006:46) that resonated with speakers of (New) Kwa languages. The discussion in Chapter 6 points to this since it was within the Afro-Caribbean community that speakers negotiated processable input, imposed reception, and, thus, deployed verb serialization. Research on the use of Eng- lish ‘make’ causatives by native speakers of Vietnamese, which has ‘make’ causative serial verb constructions, and Hindi-Urdu, which does not, provides empirical evidence that verb serialization is a retained discourse 190 chapter nine strategy: ‘make’ causative serial verb constructions are produced by the former group but not by the latter (Helms-Park 2003).

9.3.2 When did Negerhollands Serial Verb Constructions Emerge? Based on the infrequency of serial verb constructions in eighteenth- century texts, Muysken (2001:165) concludes that “[s]erial verb constructions do not actually seem to have been used very often in early Negerhollands.” Use of directional and purposive asymmetrical serial verb constructions by two members of the Afro-Caribbean community is documented by the examples in (62) and (63) from Magens’s 1770 dialogues (as transcribed by Hale n.d.). This indicates these structures had emerged by at least the 1760s when Magens was working on his grammar.

(62) . . . mie sa loop praet na mi Meester (Dialogue 1) . . . 1.sg pfut purp dira loc 1.sg.poss master ‘. . . I will go to talk to my master’

(63) Die neger ka loop skiet blou Dief mit die the slave pfv purp shoot blue dove with 3.sg. ‘The slave has gone to shoot blue doves with it’

Magens (1770, reproduced in Dyhr 2001 and in Graves 1977) also documents the symmetrical serial verb construction shown in (64). Further evidence for symmetrical serialization is found in Oldendorp (1987, 2000), who documents the lexicalized serial verb construction bring kom ‘bring here’. Since Aikhenvald (2006:34) writes that “historically speaking, languages develop asymmetrical SVCs prior to symmetrical” ones, these cita- tions imply that asymmetrical purposive /lo/ instrumental /ne/, and /ko(m)/ were in use by the 1760s.

(64) Mie jammer Ju tee mie kries Ju, tee mie 1.sg pity 2.sg until 1.sg cry (for) 2.sg, until 1.sg neem steen veeg mie hogo. (Magens 1770) take stone wipe 1.sg.poss eye ‘I pity you so much that I cry for you and wipe my eyes with a stone/ stones’

Magens’s dialogues also contain several tokens, produced by Hoch Kreol speakers, of the idiom lo(op) slaep which derives from the merger of a minor verb in a serial verb construction with the Negerhollands progressive aspect marker. Magens’s learning of the idiom, and his decision to interlingual influence: verb serialization 191 use it rather than the forms in Table 24 (below), can be attributed to the frequency with which Afro-Caribbean care givers in wealthy households used /lo slap/ to direct their charges to ‘go to bed/go to sleep’ and to describe them ‘sleeping/asleep’. The discussion in chapters 2 and 3 indicates that Hoch Kreol emerged at the beginning of the eighteenth century. The adoption of the idiom suggests that purposive /lo/ asymmetrical serial verb construction had developed by this time. Additional evidence pushes the emergence of verb serialization back further. Parkvall (2000:157) speculates that serialization can emerge within 19 years of a colony’s founding. Two strands of evidence point to the accuracy of Parkvall’s prediction with respect to the Danish colony. First there is the demographic evidence presented in Chapter 3. According to Parkvall’s estimation, productive use of serial verb constructions would have emerged no later than 1692. This maps well onto the stabilization of the colony’s Afro-Caribbean population in 1688. Early use of verb serialization is also predicted by the situational constraints discussed in Chapter 5, which point to a period of early, effortful language learning during which the “exigencies of communication” would have led to the persistence of heritage discourse strategies (Helms-Park 2003:212).

9.3.3 Verb Serialization Prior to the Twentieth Century The productive use of two-verb and multiverb asymmetrical and symmetrical serial verb constructions by de Jong’s consultants and by Mrs. Stevens locates serialization in the Afro-Caribbean community. The demographics and social conditions of the colony point to verb serialization as a strategy for organizing discourse that was retained by speakers of (New) Kwa languages during the early, effortful stages of language learning prior to population stabilization. Since Negerhollands speakers created the St. Thomas and St. John variety of Virgin Islands English Creole, what leads Stolz (1986, reported in den Besten and van der Voort 1999) to see complementizer /se/ as a late development, and Muysken (2001:165) to conclude that verb serialization was infrequent in early Negerhollands? I submit that their proposals are prompted by over reliance on the eighteenth- century documentation which, due to Hoch Kreol speakers’ processing difficulties, resulted in its near absence of serial verb constructions. But how is the infrequency of /gi/, /ne/, and /se/ serial verb constructions in the twentieth-century data to be explained? The variety of serial verb constructions discussed in Section 9.1 and the comparison of serialization and /fo/ complementation for /maŋke/ and /wɛl/ in Table 23 192 chapter nine rule out an overall decrease in verb serialization. One possibility is that the Negerhollands consultants avoided these constructions because they anticipated that de Jong and I would have difficulty processing them. This explanation parallels that offered for the scarcity of associative plurals in the preceding chapter. A second, and I suspect more likely, explanation is motivated by the prescriptivist mind set discussed in Chapter 1. Aikhenvald (2006:53) indicates that contact can result in “deserial- ization,” and Jansen, Koopman, and Muysken (1978:128) comment on “a rather close connection between the degree in which a given Creole [sic] language is a serializing language and its stage of decreolization.” It is not inconceivable that, although the Euro-Caribbean community could process directional and purposive serial verb constructions which are relatively transparent, they found benefactive/recipient /gi/, instrumental/comitative /ne/, and complementizer /se/ marked both com- municatively and culturally.11 This would have resulted in decreased use of these constructions in intergroup interactions. Over time, use also seems to have decreased within the Afro-Caribbean community. In de Jong’s corpus benefactive/recipient /gi/ serialization largely has given way to constructions with /fa/ ‘for’. It also appears that the preposition /mi/ ‘with’ and the conjunctions /mi/ and /an/ ‘and’ were replacing instrumental/ comitative serialization and that the complementizers /da(t)/ ‘that’ and /wa/ ‘what’ mostly had supplanted /se/ complementation. Mrs. Stevens used benefactive/recipient /gi/ and instrumental /ne/ serialization infrequently and avoided comitative /ne/ and complementizer /se/ in our conversations. Put another way, just as English structures (e.g., make the whistle blow) facilitated the persistence of ‘make’ causatives in the speech of Helms- Parks’ (2003) Vietnamese English-language learners, lexifier go/come + verb constructions may have protected Negerhollands directional and purposive serial verb constructions from the corrosive effects of external pressure. For example, Negerhollands /am a lo a taphus lo kop/ ‘s/he went to town in order to shop’ superficially resembles Dutch hij ging naar stad gaan koopen ‘he went to town with the intention of shopping’.

11 For example, Hesseling (1979:47) indicates that “Papiamentu . . . and Negerhol- lands . . . have . . . many distinctive peculiarities in common.” Den Besten et al. (1996:19) similarly characterize their “sketch” of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole as “a short presentation of the main peculiarities of Negerhollands.” [Emphasis added rs]. interlingual influence: verb serialization 193

Another aspect of the history of verb serialization that deserves attention is the development of imperfective aspect and prospective future. As Sprauve (1997) points out, Magens makes no mention of /lo/ ‘proximate future’ in his grammar; in his dialogues he associates le not lo, with ongoing action.12 Although Stein (1986) attributes the absence of imperfective /lo/ in creole letters of the 1740s to inaccurate documentation, den Besten et al. (1996:14) see /lo/ (which they derive from Dutch lopen ‘to walk’) replacing Hoch Kreol le (which they derive from Dutch leggen ‘to lay’) at “the beginning of the nineteenth century.” Bruyn and Veenstra (1993:35) acknowledge that “[t]he usage of the other [preverbal] particles seems to have remained essentially the same.” Nevertheless, like den Besten and van der Voort (1999), they see le replacing lo. But this is unlikely given the accelerating effects of economic opportunity and abolitionist sentiment on language shift during the British occupations at the turn of the century discussed in Chapter 3. Additional evidence for the earlier emergence of imperfective /lo/ is to be found in Magens’s (1770 as transcribed by Hall n.d.) documentation of progressive /lo/ in the idiom lo(op) slaep and in the phrases for lo wees ‘to being’ and for lo wort ‘to becoming’. An alternative scenario seizes on Holm’s (1986:248) suggestion that Hoch Kreol le, which he sees as a reflex of Dutch liegen ‘to lie, to be located’, derives from “a fairly widespread variety of [seventeenth-century] contact Dutch.” The realization that those enslaved in the colony are far more likely to have been commanded to ‘go’ than ‘lay’ or ‘lie’ leads to posit- ing different lexical sources for le and lo. Under this scenario, Hoch Kreol retains le from contact Dutch while Negerhollands lo reflects a modification of Dutch lopen parallel to developments in other New World vernaculars such as Antiguan, Bajan, Cayenne, Gullah, Guyanese, Papiamentu, Sranan, Saramaccan, and Vincentian (Baker 1998, Sprauve 1997). In the /lo/ grammaticalization chain described above, /lo/ ‘proximate future’ emerges after imperfective /lo/. We do not have documentation that speaks to exactly when proximate future /lo/ was created, but it was also probably a relatively early development since Hinnenkamp (1984) identifies multifunctionality as characteristic of early language learning, and den Besten et al. (1996:19) indicate that the choices Negerhollands speakers made with respect to encoding tense, mood, and aspect are semantically and formally similar to those of contemporary adult learners

12 In Hale’s transcription, progressive lo appears in conjugations. 194 chapter nine of Dutch. Heine, Claudi and Hünnermeyer (1991) provide additional, albeit indirect evidence for the early emergence of /lo/ ‘proximate future’. They suggest that this development can be a “relatively” rapid process as does research on Hawaiian Creole by S. Roberts (1998), who finds native- born, second generation children to be instrumental in the development of the past tense bin and future go. Added to this is Parkvall’s (2000:157) “suggested time span” of 30 years for the emergence of tense, mood, and aspect systems. Under such a scenario, proximate future /lo/ was being grammaticalized at the beginning of the eighteenth century, just as Hoch Kreol was developing.

9.4 Hoch Kreol Verb Sequences

In addition to the idiom, lo(op) slap, Magens’s (1770) dialogues (as transcribed by Hale n.d.) contain one token each of loop besuk ‘go (to) visit’, hoor seg ‘hear (it) said’, loop ki ‘go (to) see’, loop due an ‘go (to) put on’, kom hael ‘come to get’, wil have ‘want to have’ and kom, loop, ‘come (and) go’. There are also two tokens of kom jet ‘come (to) eat’ and four of loop wandel ‘go (to) walk’. With the exception of kom, loop, for which the comma suggests a conjoined sequence of actions, these two-verb sequences are verb + complement structures with a “zero infinitive marker” (de Klein 2007:261).13 Similar structures occur in Danish, Dutch, and English as shown in Table 24. The table lists the two-verb sequences from Magens’s dialogues along with their modern-day equivalents in the three Germanic lexifiers. These constructions were available when Hoch Kreol was initially formed and continued to be available, especially for multilinguals like Magens. Notice that the only sequence that does not have an equivalent constructions in one or more of the lexifiers is lo(op) slap. The cultural distance between the colony’s Afro-Caribbean and Euro- Caribbean communities, argued for in chapters 1 and 2, suggests that the Hoch Kreol verb sequences are bare infinitival complements. Syntactic theory provides additional support for the claim that Negerhollands two- verb serial verb constructions and Hoch Kreol two-verb sequences are different structures. Typological licensing posits an association between

13 Magens’s dialogues also contains ju ka maek die kleet kabae ‘you have made the suit completely.’ In Negerhollands, ‘finished making’ is ka ma. The position of kabae after the verb in Hoch Kreol is parallel to the adverb frai in die ka maek frai, ‘it is made well’, which appears a few lines later. interlingual influence: verb serialization 195

Table 24. Translation equivalents of Hoch Kreol verb + verb sequences Hoch Kreol English Danish Dutch loop besuk go visit be søge ga naar hoor seg hear it said siges horen zeggen hear tell hører — loop due aan go put on gå sætte på ga op loop ki go see gå se gaan zein

loop wandel go to walk gå til gå ga lopen kom hael come get kommer få maar komje wil hav want to have wil have wilt hebbe kom jet come eat komer spise kom eten wil hav want to have wil have wilt hebbe lo(op) slaep go to bed gå i seng naar bed gaan go to sleep til at sove ga naar slapen sleeping sovende slapend asleep søvn in slaap syntactic structure and verbal morphology. For example, in English, grammatical structure is required to differentiate a verb associated with a first person subject, as in I go_ to see, from a verb associated with a third person subject, as in he goes to see. Structure is also needed to differentiate past tense went from non-past go(es). Morphological evidence for this structure does not occur in bare infinitive complements such as English go get your sister. However, it is revealed with third person subjects (e.g., she always goes to get her sister) and with past tense verbs (e.g., she went to get his sister). The structure posited to account for infinitival complements is represented in Figure 12. Like Negerhollands, Hoch Kreol does not inflect for person; however, according to Magens (1770 as translated by Hale n.d.), inflection in Hoch Kreol is associated with tenses other than the present, with passives, and with subjunctives. This suggests a fundamental difference in the grammars of Negerhollands and Hoch Kreol—a difference that is even more apparent in Magens’s translation of the New Testament than in his dialogues (Sabino and Thiede 2010). Because Hoch Kreol does not manifest case marking, tense/agreement morphology, or syntactic movement, Hoch Kreol superficially resembles Negerhollands. But at a more abstract level, 196 chapter nine

In��ection Phrase

In��ection

Number Agreement Verb Phrase Tense

Verb Phrase Figure 12. The syntactic structure of infinitival complements

Hoch Kreol and the evangelical variety of Virgin Islands Dutch creole, like Dutch, have V-to-INFL movement. Negerhollands does not. Rather, as Muysken and Veenstra (1995:293) write, “in serializing languages the verb is separate from infl, the markers for tense and aspect, and VP can function as a separate predicate.” This typological difference can result in processing difficulties. For example, Van Diggelen’s 1978 analysis, mentioned above, suggests that even linguistically sophisticated speakers of Germanic languages have difficulty processing serial verb constructions. Oldendorp’s (1987:255) mis-analysis of a serial verb provides a second example. He suggests that maak joe kom klaar ‘get ready’ contains a zero complementizer, observing “that is often left out as it is in English.”

9.5 Summary

Speakers of the world’s languages have a variety of mechanisms for describing complex events. These reflect their understanding of the world. In describing the choices made by speakers of Negerhollands and Hoch Kreol, this chapter adds not only to what we know about the structure of these two varieties of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole but also to how community influenced language development in the Danish West Indies. Although the last speakers of Negerhollands deployed subordination, coordination, complementation, and clause chaining, their continued use of verb serialization reflects the usefulness of this heritage-language discourse strategy interlingual influence: verb serialization 197 to their ancestors in a new and culturally alien environment. In fact, verb serialization was so central to Negerhollands discourse that the twentieth- century material contains both asymmetrical and symmetrical serial verb constructions and provides evidence of grammaticalization chains and lexicalized forms. Although there are considerably fewer Hoch Kreol data, the two-verb sequences in Magens’s dialogues also demonstrate that, like the creators of Negerhollands, Hoch Kreol speakers drew heavily on their heritage languages as they established local identity. The Afro-Caribbean community in the Danish West Indies adapted Germanic lexical items to their needs but retained verb serialization as a productive discourse strategy. This seems not to have influenced Hoch Kreol even though the colony’s Euro-Caribbean community embraced perverbal tense marking and eschewed verbal person and number inflection. As a result, Negerhollands and Hoch Kreol remained typologically distinct despite apparent similarities between Negerhollands asymmetrical directional serial verb constructions and Germanic bare infinitival complements with ‘go’ and ‘come’. Nevertheless, these similarities facilitated communication across the colony’s social divide, prompting the Euro-Caribbean community’s adoption of the idiom lo(op) slaep and providing insight into otherwise undocumented aspects of creole genesis. Ironically, it is also the case that intergroup communication contributed to the eventual disappearance of Negerhollands /gi/, /ne/, and /se/ asymmetrical verb constructions, leaving other aspects of language emergence in the Danish colony beyond our reach.

Chapter ten

Conclusion

You’ve got to give Jack his jacket! Hesseling (1905, cited in Meijer and Muysken 1977) considered it possible only in theory to differentiate the language varieties created by members of Afro-Caribbean communities from those that emerged in Euro-Caribbean communities. This belief and the nineteenth-century, Eurocentric naming practice it appears to have engendered has led to thinking that obscures the role of the Danish colony’s Afro-Caribbean community in the creation and maintenance of the language which was named for them. According to such narratives, Negerhollands derives from a Dutch contact language spoken on Curaçao or St. Eustatius; Negerhollands flourished only during decades when it was written; Negerhollands is the product of failed instruction/learning; Negerhollands was engineered by missionaries; a number of Negerhollands structures developed in the nineteenth century; Negerhollands structures are borrowed from Virgin Islands English Creole. While it is true that the same cognitive processes are strategically deployed whether the outcome is a creole, a koiné, or an indigenized variety, Hesseling was far too pessimistic. The replacement of an older assimilationist tradition with one that recognizes the potency of subaltern agency and resistance has facilitated exploration of how social milieu influences the “particular conflicts and acts of solidarity and imagination involved in the shift from one kind of identity to another . . .” (Price 2007:30). There is no question that the cultural ideologies that impelled the repeopling of the Caribbean rendered the process of creole genesis opaque, obscuring from the historical record the particular peoples subject to involuntary servitude. As a result we know too little about the particular linguistic resources which the creators of Afro-Caribbean vernaculars drew on and too little about the particular ways they deployed these resources to create community in a land they did not choose and from which they could not return. Despite this challenge, consideration of the role that language plays in the construction of identity and in the maintenance of group boundaries has made it possible to respond to Highfield’s (2009:198) call for “broadly based” sociocultural studies that 200 chapter ten reflect a Virgin Islands perspective. A multidisciplinary approach reveals how conflicting world views and cultural practices influenced the refash- ioning of heritage languages in the Danish colony. The narrative told here begins with an exploration of Western views of culture, race, and language. European anthropological, economic, legal, linguistic, literary, philosophical, and religious thought justified exploitation of the natural world and human beings in it. Chattel slavery, in which people are treated as property, was part of Europe’s natural order. Africans framed their responses to enslavement within this intellectual milieu. One common response was that Africans intentionally developed language varieties that were difficult for those who held them in bondage to understand. My narrative continues by seeking to explain why this was so. More than forty years of research on the relationship among language, identity, and community has shown that “[p]roximity, even though it brings with it increased contact, does not promote [linguistic] homogenization in asymmetrical social situations” (e.g., Cameron 2003, J.K. Chambers 2003:251, Labov 2010). Examination of ethnographic and archeological reports of life in the Danish colony reveals that the world view and self-ascribed identities of Africans conflicted with the perspective of those who viewed them as property. The result was cultural clash. I further develop the story by determining who was resident in the colony prior to and during creole genesis. The discussion also reveals the impetus for the emergence of Hoch Kreol and examines the shift to English and Virgin Islands English Creole. Beginning as a classic plantation economy characterized by privation, suffering, and high mortality, St. Thomas was permanently settled by colonists from Europe in 1672. A year later, 103 Africans arrived, doubling the colony’s population. The historical record indicates that Negerhollands began to vernacularize about 1688 when survival rates increased for Afri- cans living in mixed households. By 1700, they and their descendants had created Negerhollands—a new language that encoded the identity of the colony’s new Afro-Caribbean community. The historical record also locates the creation of Hoch Kreol, with its partial appropriation of Negerhollands features, in the emergence of a Euro-Caribbean community. Initially, as Schneider (2007:5) writes with respect to the “rerooting of English,” colonists maintained their heritage cultures and languages because they “consider[ed] themselves outpost rep- resentatives of a distant homeland.” Economic opportunity and improve- ments in colonial life between 1700 and 1715 made permanent residence in St. Thomas increasingly attractive. Some Europeans returned to their conclusion 201 home nations once their terms of duty were over, or they had become sufficiently enriched. Others stayed. Wealth began to accumulate in the St. Thomas Euro-Caribbean community. In fact, the importance of commercial activity was such that it overtook agriculture, leading a speaker in one of Magens’s (1770) dialogues (as translated by Hale n.d.) to propose drinking to vrie Negocie ‘free trade’ and C. Taylor (1888:55) to claim St. Thomas “might have been called, justly, the sample warehouse of Euro- pean and American products.” The colony’s residents deployed their linguistic resources—some shared, some disparate—to recreate personal identities and to establish and maintain social relationships. In doing so, they drew on their existing concepts of self and other, and on the languages which they knew, setting in motion a trajectory of cultural change. The colony’s system of exploitation and privilege insured that once its Afro- and Euro-Caribbean communities emerged, they remained largely distinct. Nevertheless, despite a deep divide that reflected status, culture, and physiology, prosperity increased the number of weak ties between the Afro-Caribbean and Euro- Caribbean communities, allowing for the diffusion of linguistic features across groups. Successful merchants and planters created large domestic staffs as personal servants became common. Negerhollands speakers who provided domestic and personal service in the towns, especially those charged with child care, served as linguistic conduits between the two communities. On the one hand, these individuals, who were mostly women, encountered the lexifiers more frequently and in a wider range of domains than did other members of the Afro-Caribbean community. On the other hand, they “nursed and raised” economically privileged members of the St. Thomas Euro-Caribbean community (Highfield 2009:119). In spite of attempts to impose European definitions of culture and language on the colony’s residents, the influence of the Afro-Caribbean community was inescapable. Euro-Caribbean children and adolescents who identified with island as opposed to continental life were instrumental in selectively adding Negerhollands features to a contact variety of Dutch. The result was Hoch Kreol. Negerhollands was carried to St. John when that island was settled from St. Thomas in 1718 at a time prior to the widespread use of Ger- manicized variants. Because St. John remained agricultural, it provided members of the Afro-Caribbean community with little opportunity for upward mobility. This promoted the use of conservative Negerhollands variants. In contrast, on St. Thomas, the colony’s social conditions ameliorated as miscegenation, the emergence of an Afro-Caribbean middle 202 chapter ten class, and abolition blurred the lines between social groups. Although enslavement continued to be the lot of many in the Afro-Caribbean community until 1848, as early as the 1740s, one-third of the free population living in Charlotte Amalie were members of the Afro-Caribbean community. Members of this group and others attracted to the Moravian mission embraced and profited from the opportunities offered by literacy and cultural assimilation. This led to the creation of some of the variants documented by Pontoppidian (1881, 1887). British occupation at the beginning of the nineteenth century increased opportunities associated with English, accelerating language shift. Even so, the identity function of Negerhollands was such that evidence of its seventeenth-century West African heritage remained in the conservative forms and discourse strategies of its last speakers. Like Hoch Kreol, the Moravian and Lutheran evangelical varieties of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole were created in the eighteenth century. With few ties to either the Afro-Caribbean or Euro-Caribbean community, the Moravians initially offered religious instruction and literacy in Dutch. Rec- ognizing that success of their mission would be enhanced if they employed a community language, the Moravians added creole features to their evangelical texts. The result was a “bookish Dutch intervention” (Sprauve 1986:13). The success of the Moravian message prompted a parallel attempt by the Danish Lutheran Church. Magens, a member of a prominent colonial family, was among those enlisted in the Lutheran effort. He produced a Hoch Kreol grammar for “teachers and the missionary ministers” (Liebst 1996:125) and prepared a translation of the New Testament. Much of the previous scholarship ignores evidence of the relationship between oppression and resistance in the colony and their effects on language form and use. Therefore, I next considered the eighteenth- and nineteenth-century documentary evidence and the ways in which it has been interpreted. Although I acknowledge that these materials can provide evidence of undocumented Negerhollands forms and discourse strategies, my examination does not support the practice of treating corpora from the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth century as a chronologically continuous Negerhollands data set. Rather it affirms the importance of initially separating Negerhollands from Hoch Kreol and the evangelical material. Like the sociocultural and historical approaches in the first two sections of the monograph, an approach drawing on what is known about adult language learning in section three provides insight into the colony’s language history. Because of the danger associated with not understanding conclusion 203

Europeans, Africans initially were motivated to communicate with them. Since adult Africans associated with European households lived in proximity to speakers of the lexifier languages, I considered whether or not Negerhollands might have once resembled the language of eighteenth- century documentary record. Examination of five situational variables found that age, sex and the psychological and physical duress of captivity during the period it took to achieve population stability were limiting factors, despite a cultural orientation towards multilingualism. As a result, I predict that during the early decades of colonization, most African adults achieved only the initial, effortful stages of language learning. The small number of locally born, Afro-Caribbean children living in the colony during the period of creole genesis encountered (New) Kwa languages and the developing creole system. Since the latter also had an affinity to (New) Kwa, the language that they elaborated would not have resembled that of the eighteenth-century documentation. Language structure emerges from interaction, so determining who speaks to whom, how frequently, and under what conditions also provided crucial insight into the colony’s language history. The colony’s social structure was such that intergroup communication was difficult and often threatening. In contrast, during communication within the Afro-Caribbean community, speakers were able to negotiate comprehensible input and to impose reception. (New) Kwa features initially persisted because they allowed the Afro-Caribbean population to mediate the colony’s exploitive conditions. As first networks and then community emerged, communication patterns were negotiated and modified. As “disaggregat[ed]” (N. Hall 1992:123) Africans and their descendants came to express solidarity linguistically, Negerhollands, which emerged in response to instrumental needs, assumed an identity function. In the fourth section, chapters on phonological, morphological, and syntactic variation speak to the relationship between oppositional communities revealing both Negerhollands developmental patterns and details of the relationship between Negerhollands and Hoch Kreol. The Negerhol- lands segmental inventory provides scant evidence of direct inheritance from (New) Kwa languages. However, vowel copying and a strong preference for codaless syllables, the reanalysis of Germanic segments, the alternation of [r] and [l], and the rarity of voiced fricatives reveal strategies speakers of (New) Kwa languages used to negotiate the phonological challenges they faced as they apropriated Danish, Dutch, and English lexical items. Evidence of the external pressure predicted by the changing colony’s social structure is provided by intermediate and hypercorrect forms 204 chapter ten documented by Oldendorp and Magens and by the developmental sequences that produced Negerhollands voiced, word-final stops and fricatives. Little can be said about the segmental inventory of Hoch Kreol due to the influence of Dutch spelling conventions; however, forms with copied vowels and CV syllables were less frequent in Hoch Kreol than in Negerhol- lands. This is attributable to the greater influence of Germanic heritage language patterns on Hoch Kreol and reflects the Euro-Caribbean community’s desire to differentiate themselves from Negerhollands speakers. The absence of inflectional plural marking also is consistent with the creation of Negerhollands during the early, effortful stage of adult language learning. Here too, although there is some overlap, Negerhollands and Hoch Kreol are different. For example, speakers of both varieties marked additive plurals with a form also used to encode third person plural. However, in Negerhollands, there is some evidence of case differentiation developing while, according to Magens (1770 as transcribed by Hale n.d.), Hoch Kreol speakers typically used an invariant plural morpheme (either sender or selli) for nominative, objective, and genitive cases. Hoch Kreol also retained the use of Germanic plural morphemes. A second shared characteristic is that in both Negerhollands and Hoch Kreol plural marking was optional. However, in Negerhollands, as in other Afro-Caribbean vernaculars, plural marking was almost exclusively limited to definite nouns. Nouns were also marked significantly less often than in Hoch Kreol. Additionally, Neg- erhollands speakers were significantly more likely to mark plurality when definite nouns were + animate than were Hoch Kreol speakers. This too reflects (New) Kwa influence, as does the greater frequency with which bare nouns were used by Negerhollands speakers. A third feature that reveals the disparate influence of heritage language features on Negerhollands and Hoch Kreol is the way speakers encoded complex events. Negerhollands speakers employed coordination, senten- tial subordination, infinitival complementation, clause chaining, and verb serialization. For Hoch Kreol only the first three syntactic alternatives are attested. Moreover, Negerhollands verb serialization was highly productive and showed evidence of both grammaticalization and lexicalization. Although speakers in Magens’s dialogues used two-verb sequences with loop and kom and adopted a Negerhollands idiom derived from a serial verb, Hoch Kreol was not a serializing language. As was the case for phonology, verb serialization provides evidence of the effects of external pressure: /gi/ serial verb constructions are rare, and there is no evidence that Mrs. Stevens had acquired /ne/ or /se/ serial verb constructions. conclusion 205

The rapid development of Negerhollands by speakers of (New) Kwa languages under conditions of privation and duress is one case among many. For African people and their New World descendants to have survived and prospered in the Danish colony took courage, skill, and the ability to deftly exploit available resources. Linguistically, such resources included mother tongues, additional languages learned (in whole or in part) in West Africa, during the transatlantic crossing and on St. Thomas, as well as the languages of those who held them in bondage. It would be curious indeed if they had not availed themselves of all of these in propor- tions suited to their needs and desires. Magens’s attempt to standardize the colony’s language along prescriptivist lines for use by “all right-thinking people” (Magens 1770 as translated by Hale n.d.:n.p.) documents the Euro-Caribbean community’s under appreciation of the symbolic value of Negerhollands. In contrast, de Jong (1924 trans. in Graves 1977:31) provides elegant testimony of this: Much stronger than the sense of what their ancestors suffered is the memory of all that which kept alive their community feeling in those days, the old rites, dances, and songs, the nights of religious feasting and wild merriment, following days of bitter humbling themselves and barren platitudes. The linguistic history of the Danish West Indies illustrates “[t]he further apart speakers, the less likely their speech production will be correlated” (Kretzschmar 2009:258). This relationship, which reflects opportunity and agency, depends crucially on the social as well as the geographic nature of place. The numerous creole proverbs that warn against “hanging your hat higher than your head” imply some movement towards Euro-Carib- bean norms while the emergence of Hoch Kreol documents the attraction of Afro-Caribbean culture and language. Although the question of how much movement occurred at particular periods in the Danish colony’s history may in fact be unanswerable for the reasons discussed in Chapter 4, the evidence of the preceding chapters makes the scenario proposed by those who argue for the gradual emergence of Negerhollands forms an improbably one. Venetian continues to survive despite pressures from standardized Italian because it is spoken “with pride by all classes of society” (Mor- ris 2008:n.p.). In contrast, African languages were lost throughout the Caribbean because speakers saw greater promise in abandonment than in maintenance. The emergence of Hoch Kreol reflected pride in the colony’s wealth. But this variety of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole did not remain viable beyond the British occupation at the beginning of the 206 chapter ten

Figure 13. The author with Mrs. Alice Stevens (photograph by Jose Sabino) eighteenth century since, as population figures indicate, only about 6 percent of the St. Thomas population were adults identified as “white” at that time (N. Hall 1992). Despite considerable institutional support by the Moravian and Lutheran missions, the evangelical variety of Virgin Islands Dutch Cre- ole fell out of use in the 1830s, superceded by English and Virgin Islands English Creole. The social forces that created Negerhollands in the most difficult of times sustained this variety of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole the longest of all. Pontoppidian, writing in the 1870s, feared it would soon vanish. C. Taylor (1888) gives the impression that it was no longer spoken. However, de Jong located elderly bilingual speakers in the 1920s, and a few, including Mrs. Stevens, who generously shared her knowledge with me, learned it in the next generation. Although Negerhollands changed as all languages do, the last speakers preserved evidence of its original form. Drawing on strands of research from a number of humanistic disciplines, the story presented in the preceding chapters is at points inferential, but it is never fanciful. The narrative locates creole genesis in the emergence of the Danish colony’s Afro-Caribbean community. Considered in this light, conclusion 207 retaining the name Negerhollands, despite its racist origins, gives Jack his jacket. It correctly identifies African adults, many of them male, as those who made possible the colony’s survival and who largely determined the direction that cultural contact would take. Still the story is not yet fully told. Additional detail is needed with respect to the internally and externally motivated development of Neg- erhollands. The development of Hoch Kreol and the koiné from which it sprang also await description. Further examination of the eighteenth-, nineteenth-, and twentieth-century Virgin Islands Dutch Creole corpora and comparison of the other Caribbean Dutch lexicon creoles promise to add new chapters to the linguistic history of the Danish West Indies. And because this colony was, as Westergård (1917:121) points out, “a fairly typical plantation society,” such development will also enhance our understanding of the largest population movement in human history–the African Diaspora.

Appendix one

Some notes on the Creole Language of the Danish West Indian Islands

by Eric Pontoppidan Translated by Anne-Katrin Gramberg and Robin Sabino1

The Danish West Indian islands have always had quite a complicated population and language situation. [St. Thomas was] colonized by the Dutch, French, English[,] and Danes, but [was] under Danish rule[.] Danish was indeed always the official language2 but it could never establish itself as the language generally used. In the eighteenth century, all the white colonists used their mother tongues which were at least understood in their own circle[s] since English, as the commonly used language, had not yet displaced all the others. In addition, almost everybody had their own churches and preachers. The black slaves, however, which were mainly imported directly from Africa, developed their own mixed language, formed from Dutch, Danish, English, French, and Spanish3 elements, which soon was spread and also [was] used as a means of communication between masters and slaves and even frequently became common as a kind of lingua franca among the white creoles themselves. In the middle of the 1700s the previously pagan, black slaves were gradually4 converted to Christianity. These efforts were started partially by the Herrnhuter missionaries who worked chiefly in St. Thomas and St. John,5 partially by catechists sent from Denmark. Those gradually learned Creole, as the language was named and soon [religious] teaching, initially only conducted orally, was supported by books in creole. A primer and

1 This article appeared in German in 1881. Translators’ comments appear in footnotes. When faced with a choice between elegant phrasing and close translation, we chose the latter so that readers might evaluate Pontoppidan on his own merits. Material inserted into the text by the translators appears in square brackets. 2 Official documents were written in Danish, Dutch, and later in English. 3 More properly Ibero-Romance. 4 Pontopidian writes “nach und nach,” which may also be interpreted as meaning one person after another. However, this meaning is more typically expressed with the explicit statement einer nach dem anderen. 5 Highfield (2009) writes of considerable Moravian activity on St. Croix. 210 appendix one a small Luther’s catechism were the first [books] which were printed in 1770; in 1781 a translation of the New Testament was distributed. A language which was only used by uneducated Negroes for daily communication was naturally too narrow and too insufficient in ideas and words for this wider scope, and one had to therefore help oneself by borrowing a lot from the principal languages, chiefly from Dutch. By this means a more clerical creole and a creole for daily business dealings were created. But in the 1800’s English became more and more dominant and the general colloquial language. The service in the Lutheran church was held in creole for the colored congregation until the 1830’s; but as this [the language] slid more and more into oblivion, and when the younger generation had to first learn the creole as a foreign language, for example, for confirmation instruction, it was abandoned and English was substituted. Now creole is nearly gone from St. Croix, also in the city on St. Thomas only some old women are found sporadically who are still familiar with the language. Only in the more remote parts in the country, such as in the missions of the Moravian Brothers at New Herrnhut and Nisky and on the small, deteriorated and half-wild island of St. John is it better maintained. There it is the mother-tongue and colloquial speech of the older generation, which speaks English badly and with difficulty but generally speaks Negerhollands with ease; the younger generation, in contrast, has adopted English and one can say with confidence that the creole language very soon will be a dead language; in one generation one will only with difficulty still find anyone who can speak it. I have therefore attempted to gather some notes on this creole language before it is entirely forgotten. The material is already now not easy to obtain if one wants to know how it is truly spoken. In the written record there are only religious works, catechisms, psalms, and so forth, and as mentioned before, these are heavily blended with Dutch. This Hoch Kreol is often not understood by a person who is accustomed to the colloquial speech habits, especially if they did not learn something about it in confirmation classes. The translator of the New Testament6 also states in the Foreword [,] “It is necessary for spiritual matters to follow Dutch rather than the actual common language of the creoles, so I am obliged to give a warning that I have followed the same rules in this translation of the New Testament. I have followed the Creole manner of speaking overall,

6 Magens translated both the Old and New Testaments; only his translation of the latter was published. some notes on the creole language 211 but I have not used the common words and language because that is not appropriate for so spiritual a matter.” As an example, I will now quote that he uses spreeken and spraek here; in ordinary usage Sprich deine Sprache ‘speak your language’ would be said as prat ju tal. The oral sources, which are still available, are all from the lowest social class;7 they are mostly old country Negroes whose ideas move in a very narrow circle and whose vocabulary is therefore also very limited. Of course they can never spell the words, and one encounters many local and also individual differences and variations in speech, also there frequently remains uncertainty as to whether for example a word is English or Creole, etc. I will, however, attempt to give a short sketch of the structure and a few examples of this soon to become extinct language. As a typical Negro language, the chief characteristic of the creole is simplicity and formlessness;8 one could almost say that it has no grammar. Everybody who has lived among Negroes knows that they make do with a foreign language with great ease; they soon have a supply of verbs, nouns and adjectives, but they lack the means of putting them together. Even the English language which is very simple and without forms, gives unas- sailable difficulties to them within the grammar. Even Negroes owned by English speakers can never overcome this, and one hears “I is,” “you am,” “me be,” “a teeth,” etc. as frequently or more often than the correct forms. The Negro speaks English, French, Spanish, all according to the same method, i.e., like a child and uses his “patois” without paying much attention to grammar. From this point of view, one can look at the creole language as an ideal [solution to their language needs]. Another very conspicuous characteristic of this idiom is its wealth of proverbs, many of which are striking, original, and naive. The themes come from the simple, narrow sphere of the Negro, mainly domestic animals seem to have delivered the material for it. One can thus hear two old Negroes having a conversation that is almost entirely put together from proverbs and stereotypical aphorisms. It seems that these proverbs are more the property of a society standing on a lower intelligence or at least education; for

7 Given the testimony of Virgin Islanders that Dutch Creole was used in the 1920s, 30s, and 40s, it possible that middle-class speakers of Negerhollands declined to share their linguistic knowledge with an outsider. 8 “Formlessness” and “lack the means of putting them together” refer to a lack of derivational and inflectional morphology. 212 appendix one example, the old Nordic “Edda”9 is full of proverbs, and those, too, have to be searched for nowadays in Europe mainly among farmers. It may be that a view accustomed to narrow boundaries observes movements in its limited, small world more sharply, or that the proverbs and aphorisms as a stereotypical form for a thought which are easily remembered, spare a weak, untrained intelligence the work to formulate new thoughts.10 I will not try at all to present a grammar of the creole language as it is written, instead I will only indicate which role the different elements played in the formation of the language and what the main characteristics of its accidence look like. Since these latter mostly are of a negative nature, the task becomes under this aspect one that does not put a large claim on space or linguistic capacity; moreover, an included sample of the written language will help the reader to build a better concept of this rather interesting language. Clearly Dutch leads the way among the languages from which the creole contributions were supplied. Dutch and Danish have pretty much supplied all of the reoccurring, combining or conjoining words, so to speak, the mortar of the language, and thereby determined its character.11 This relationship reminds us a lot of English in which precisely this part is mainly of Germanic origin while the words of Latin root occur more in the other word classes: nouns, adjectives, verbs. Due to the similarity between Dutch and Danish it is very often difficult to tell which one was the source of a certain word. The same is true in some instances for this third related language, English, although it has had relatively much less influence. To give an example, I present a widely used proverb: water kok fo fes, fes no weet ‘Water boils for fish, but the fish doesn’t know it’. [O]ne will see from this [example] how almost all words are a kind of combination between two or even of all three of the above mentioned languages and how

9 A thirteenth-century collection of mythological, heroic, and aphoristic poetry. 10 Pontoppidian appears not have been able to fully extract the meaning of the conversations he describes. Proverbs throughout the Caribbean encode philosophy and function as social commentary, often for didactic purposes. Because proverbs can be used with indirect bearing on a particular situation, understanding requires local knowledge and can require considerable interpretive skill. In sub-Saharan Africa, as in the Caribbean, proverbs enable the speakers to distill a message into a form that results in a “confluence of minds, values, and experiences” for the speaker and intended message recipient. Within this discourse system, directness is considered “graceless and boorish.” This is especially true when the message is corrective (Owomoyela 1985:13). 11 There is also evidence of influence of Ibero-Romance in Negerollands. Whether most of the reflexes for these forms were part of a Dutch koiné remains to be determined. some notes on the creole language 213 difficult it becomes to identify a single source for the creole.12 On the other hand, one will encounter, also at the same time, many rather pure Dutch, Danish, or English words. The French and Spanish elements are of course a lot easier to separate. They are not very strongly represented. The French [elements] are mostly those that have a more cosmopolitan distribution and are found in all languages, like Pardoon, Manier (as pronounced in German) Condisje, Consciensje, Permisje, Satisfacsje, Plesier, Creatier, etc.13 There is also a whole series of verbs all with the ending eer like respekteer, assisteer, exkyseer, mankeer, pardonneer, permitteer, trakteer, persoadeer, forceer, obserweer, murmureer and many others.14 One even finds Germanic words in the same half-French disguise: leweer (German liefern ‘deliver’, Dan- ish levere), vermeer (German vermehren ‘multiply, propagate, increase’), veroneer (German erniedrigen ‘degrade’, Danish fornedre), verordineer (German verordnen ‘prescribe’).15 The same word, depending on how it is taken from different languages, can have different meanings like loop (‘go, walk’), kurir (‘run, walk’).16 The Spanish portion is not large in Hoch Kreol, but one does, however, find such words as pará ‘prepare’, cabá ‘complete’, mata ‘kill’. In common creole one finds Spanish more frequently, mostly as names of animals, implements and the like: cabaj ‘horse’, cubrita ‘goat’, and some which are naturalized in all of tropical America like avocato, mammai, papai ‘fruit’, etc. Very few words appear to be of African origin [a]lthough this is probably true of the commonly known expressions: obeah ‘magic’; jumbi, mumbo-jumbi ‘ghost’.17 Some others can perhaps be included here; it is a rather small number of creole words, which I, at least, was not able to derive from elsewhere. For example makutu ‘basket’, a word which I have

12 Sabino (1990) demonstrated that sound correspondences are systematic making it sometimes possible to determine a source. For example, water is an English borrowing; the Negerhollands form is /watu/. 13 Only /mani/ ‘manner’ and /plɛsi/ ‘pleasant’ occur in the twentieth-century data. 14 Only /maŋke/ ‘want’ and /trakte/ ‘treat’ occur in the twentieth-century data. 15 None of these occur in the twentieth-century data. 16 Pontoppidian cites /lo/ and /kuri/ as having distinct meanings in his 1887 article. The twentieth-century data contain the main verbs /lo/ ‘go’, /wandu/ ‘walk’, and /kuri/ ‘run’. 17 Valls (1981) identifies mumbo jumbo as an apocryphal deity supposedly worshiped in Africa. Katya Leney, in a message posted to the H-net List for African History (1/23/98), suggests that widespread use of the term probably can be attributed to the popularity of Mungo Park’s narrative in which he relates a tale concerning the fetish Mambo Jambo. The tale “was so confusing to [Park’s] European audience that the corrupted term came to represent religious or ritual confusion generally.” 214 appendix one only also found in Curaçao, quaet, leeluk ‘bad, wicked or unpleasant’, fraj ‘good’, gaw ‘quick’, and others.18 Even others seem to be from purely creole origin, and then they are often formed half-onomatopoeically like pat-pat ‘duck’, gurru-gurru ‘throat’. Such a doubling or repetition of a word occurs frequently enough in the creole language and normally indicates a reinforcement of the expression or something which is a quickly repeating action, for example peck-peck ‘collect, gather’, heel heel ‘entirely’, war war ‘tru(ly)’, hoop hoop ‘big heap’, gaw gaw ‘very quick(ly)’, fru fru ‘early in the morning’, soo soo ‘nothing at all’. I have already mentioned that the creole language does not actually have a grammar, at least as it is normally spoken. One then can consider as a general rule which has very few exceptions, that every word can have only one form; ordinarily one can then only differentiate between the different tenses or between singular and plural and such things by sentence structure and the whole context. Of course such a loose language cannot express anything precise or logical.19 Take for example the verb kik ‘see’; it is customary in speech that this one form expresses all tenses and moods. Mi kik ju cabaj means ‘I see your horse/horses’. But one also says: Mi kik die Cabaj gester 20 ‘I saw the horse yesterday’ and: mi kik die Cabaj, wanneer mi cabá ‘I will see the horse when I am finished’. But in writing and in better speech there is a past tense form constructed with ha or ka and a future constructed with lo or lolo: mi ha kik ‘I have seen’, mi lo kik ‘I will see’.21 The definite article is die which does not change for gender or number. The indefinite article is een. The substantive has usually only one form, but in Hoch Kreol, here and there, one pluralizes by adding {-en} or {-s}, but not consistently. For example, Die mens ‘human being’, die mensen [‘human beings’], een Sondenaer ‘a sinner’, Sondenaers [‘sinners’]. In the catechism[,] Kint ‘child’ has the plural form Kinders, but in daily speech

18 Makutu may be related to Portuguese macuta ‘basket’. Negerhollands /kwat/ is a reflex of Dutch kwaad ‘angry’; /leluk/ is a reflex of Dutch leelijk ‘bad, wicked, unpleasant’; /frai/ ‘good’ is a reflex of Dutch fraai ‘lively’; /gau/ ‘quick(ly)’ is a reflex of Dutch gauw ‘quick’. 19 The valuation of subtlety and indirectness over explicitness and directness that Pon- toppidan criticizes is attributable African sources as are the language’s isolating structure and its discourse-dependent number marking. 20 In Negerhollands: /mi ha ki di kabai gɛstu/; /mi lo ki di kabai wɛni mi ka kaba/. Tense marking is nearly obligatory in Negerhollands. 21 /lo lo/ is proximate future + main verb or progressive + main verb; /mi ha ki/ ‘I saw’; /mi ka ki/ ‘I have seen’. some notes on the creole language 215 one says: zwee, drie Kint.22 The genitive is expressed by sji [ši] ‘his, its’:23 Hundu sji flim ‘the chicken its feather’. The adjectives are, as in English, uninflected—die fraj mens, die fraj mensen—with the exception of the comparative. The comparative is formed by meer, the superlative by meest or with the addition of {-ste}[:] pobre ‘poor’, meer pobre, pobreste. Guj, ‘good’, better, best is irregular. The numerals are quite similar to Dutch: Een, erste; twee, tweede; drie, derde; tien; twentig; dysend. The personal pronouns mi, ju, him, ons, ju, die are used as possessives: Mi bang ju hund, ‘I’m afraid of/fear your dog’. Sji is reflexive ‘his, its’.24 After these indications, which claim nothing else but to demonstrate the enormous simplicity of the language, I will provide as samples, several proverbs as I found them in the vernacular, and finally a chapter of the New Testament.

[Proverbs] 1. Kakerlaker no ha bestel na hundu sji cot. ‘Cockroaches have no business in the fowl house’. 2. hundu suk25 maktu, maktu tu him. ‘The fowl goes towards the basket, and the basket falls over it’. 3. pad mi long, geambó drog na sji boom. ‘My path is long, the geambo (a fruit) [okra] will dry on his tree’. 4. een finger no kan fang lus. ‘One finger can’t catch lice’. 5. Blau diffie seg: wen regen caba, mi sal bau mi eigen hus. ‘The blue dove (a bird which doesn’t build its own nest) says: when the rain has stopped, I will build my own house’. 6. pobre folluk no fo ha hart bran. ‘Poor people must not have warm heart’. 7. hundu seg: mi kan sweer for mi eju, mo no fo mi kikinsji. ‘The hen says: I can swear for my egg, but not for my chick’. 8. na guj hart mak cabrita sji gat bin nabitti. ‘His good heart causes the goat’s bottom to be exposed’. 9. pobre no bin fraj. ‘Poor [Poverty] is not good’.

22 De Jong’s consultants and Mrs. Stevens used /kin/. 23 This construction occurs in West Germanic languages (Slomanson 1993). 24 /ši/ ‘third person singular possessive pronoun’. 25 Pontoppidan translates this liberally. A literal translation is ‘fowl looks for basket, baskets cover him,’ that is, failure to attend to one’s circumstances could land one in difficulty. 216 appendix one

10. Wanneer de wind ris, dan ju fo kik hundu sji gat. ‘When the wind rises, then you can see the chickens’ bottoms’. 11. na groot geest mak Crabbo no ha kop. ‘[It’s] his great spirit [that] causes that the crab [to have] no head’. 12. Wanneer jekké sji flegon ha breek, dan him suk fo how geselskap mit hundu.26 ‘When the guinea hen [breaks] its wing, then it looks for the chickens’ company’. 13. Cocro no bang Slang, Slang no bang cocro. ‘The crocodile is not afraid of the snake, the snake is not afraid of the crocodile’. 14. Water kok fo fes, fes no weet. ‘The water is being boiled for the fish, but it doesn’t know it’.27 15. Kuj sji horn noit sal ben swar for him drag. ‘The cow’s horn never becomes too heavy for her to carry’. 16. Brambi fal na molassi, da sut him ka fen. ‘The ant fell into the syrup because she has found it sweet’. 17. Bergi mit Bergi no kan tek, ma twee mens sal tek. ‘Mountain can’t bargain with mountain, but two people have to give and take’.28 18. mata mumma, du die before die kint, him sal jeet; ma mata kint, du die before mumma, him no sal jeet, him sal kris’. Kill the mother and serve her to the child, it wants to eat her; kill the child and serve it to the mother, she does not want to eat it[;] she will cry.29 19. Wat ple ju bottle bin, mi glas bin. ‘Where your bottle will be, my glass is’. 20. een man dodt een ander man brod. ‘One man’s death, another man’s bread’. 21. ekke30 man suk sji eigen wif. ‘No man courts his own wife’. 22. man dodt, besjet gurri na sji door.31 ‘When a man is dead, then grass grows in front of his door’.

26 Schuchardt (1914) suggests the “o” in flegon may be a typographical error, but Pon- topiddian uses it in both articles. De Jong’s documentation of /fleg(ʌ)n/, a reflex of Zeelan- dish vleke, ‘wing’, for both singular and plural indicates flegon contains an atrophied plural suffix /ha/ should be /ka/: /ka breek/ is a transitive causitive construction. 27 German requires the object pronoun. 28 Pontoppidan uses a pidginized German to translate this: “Berg kann sich nicht mit Berg begegnen. . . .” 29 Pontoppidan uses fressen, which describes animals, not people, eating. He also confuses wollen ‘to want’ with werden ‘future’. 30 /eke/ is ‘every’. 31 In his 1887 article, Pontoppidian writes kurie rather than guri, perhaps providing an example of a word initial, voiceless stop that is otherwise unattested. Alternatively, he erroneously may have substituted kuri ‘run’ for guri ‘grow’ in the later article. some notes on the creole language 217

23. no fordimak pussje wander him fang rotter. ‘It isn’t because the cat wanders around that she catches rats’. 24. Crabbo no wander, him no kom fet; as him wander attofel, him sal loop na pot. ‘If the crab doesn’t move, she will not become fat; but if she walks around too much, she walks into the pot’.

Mathew 14 1. na di selve Tid Herodes,32 die Viervorst, ha hoor die Woord van Jesus. 2. en hem ha seg na sie Knegten: deese hin Johannes die Dooper: hem ka staen op van die Dooje, daerom hem due soo Werk. 3. Want Herodes ha ka vang Johannes, ha ka bind hem, en ha ka gooj hem na binne die Gefangnis, voor die wille von Herodias, die Vrow van sie Bruder Philippus. 4. Want Johannes ha seg na hem die no bin regt, dat je hab hem. 5. en hem ha wil gern maek hem doot, maer hem ha bang die Volk, diemaek sellie ha how Johannes voor een Propheet. 6. maer dietit Herodes ha how sie Geboorte-Dag, die Dogter van Herodias ha dans vor sender; en die ha behaeg Herodes gu. 7. daerom hem ha beloov hem mit een Eed, for giev na hem, wat hem ha sal begeer. 8. en soo lang sie Muder ha ka onderrigt hem tee voorn, hem ha seg: giev hie na mie na binne een Skittel die Kop van Johannes di Dooper. 9. en die Kooning ha kom bedruevt, dog soo lang him ha ka sweer, en vor die wille van sender, die ha sit mit hem na Tafel, hem ha belast for giev di na hem. 10. en hem ha stier, en ha lastaen kap af Johannes sie Kop na binne die Gevangnis. 11. en sellie ha bring sie Kop na binne een Skittel, en ha giev die na die Mejsje; en hem ha bring die na sie Muder. 12. Soo sie Disciplen ha kom, ha neem die Likam, en ha begraev die, en sellie ha kom, en ha seg dat na Jesus. 13. dietit Jesus ka hoor dat, him ha loop wej van daesoo mit een Skip na een Wusteine alleen; en dietit die Volk ka hoor dat, sellie ha volg hem na rut yt die Steden.

32 Compare this with dative Herodias in item 6. There is no inflectional case in Neg- erhollands. 218 appendix one

14. en Jesus ha loop yt, en ha kik al die Volk, en die ha jammer hem gu voor sender, en hem ha genees die Sieken van sender. 15. na avondtit sie Disciplen ha kom na hem, en ha seg: deese bin een Wusteine, en Donker kom; lastaen die Volk loop van ju, dat sellie kan loop na die Dorpen, en koop jeet. 16. maer Jesus ha seg na sender: die no bin noedig, dat sellie loop hen; jellie giev na sender for jeet. 17. maer sellie ha seg na hem: ons no hab meer hiesoo, als veif Brooden, en twee Vissen. 18. maer hem ha seg: bring sender hiesoo na mie. 19. en hem ha seg na die Volk, for sit neer na bobo die Gras, en ha neem die veif Brooden, en die twee Vissen, ha kik op na die Hemel, ha dank, en ha brek sender, en ha giev die Brooden na die Disciplen, maer die Disciplen ha giev sender na die Volk. 20. er sellie almael ha jeet, en ha krieg sender Bekomst; en sellie ha neem op die gut, die ka bliev over, twaelf Makutten33 vol. 21. nu die ha ka jeet, ha wees bie veif dysend Man, sonder Vrowen en Kinders. 22. en anstonds Jesus ha forceer sie Disciplen for loop nabinne die Skip, for vaer over voor hem na die ander Sie, tee hem ha ka stier die Volk wej. 23. en dietil hem ha ka stier die Volk wej, hem ha klem na bobo een Berg, hem alleen, for bid. En na Avond hem alleen ha wees daesoo. 24. maer die Skip, ha wees alreets na middel van die See, en ha wees na Gevaer voor die groot Baeren; want die Wind ha wees tegen. 25. maer na die vierde Nagtvagt Jesus ha kom na sender, en hem ha loop na bobo die See. 26. en dietit die Disciplen ha kik hem loop na bobo die See, sellie ha kom bang, en ha seg: die bin een Spook: en sellie ha skreew van Bangheid. 27. maer Jesus ha spreek mit sender anstonds, en ha seg: hab gueje Mud; da mie die bin, no wees bang. 28. maer Petrus ha antwoordt hem, en ha seg: Heere! als ju die bin, soo seg na mie dan, for kom na ju na bobo die water. 29. maer hem ha seg: Kom! en Petrus ha stap yt van die Skip, en ha loop na bobo die Water for kom na Jesus.

33 In Negerhollands, indefinite nouns are not pluralized. some notes on the creole language 219

30. maer dietit hem ha kik een groot wind. him ha kom bang, en dietet(?) hem ha begin for sink, hem ha ruep, en ha seg: Heere, help mie! 31. maer Jesus ha strek sie Hand yt anstonds en ha vas hem, en ha seg na hem: O, ju kleingloovig! watmeak ju ha twieffel. 32. en dietit sillie ka loop na binne die Skip, die Wind ha kom stil. 33. maer sellie, die ha wees na binne die Skip, ha kom, en ha val neer voor hem, en ha seg: ju bin waerwaer Godt sie Soon. 34. en sellie ha vaer over, en ha kom na die Land van Genezareth. 35. en dietit die Volk van daesoo ha ken hem, sellie ha stier yt na die geheel Land rondtom, en ha bring almael die Sieken na hem. 36. en sellie ha bid hem, dat sellie ha mut ruer alleen na die Soom van sie Kleed, en sellie almael, die ha ruer die an, ka kom gesond.

Sample of a Conversation in Common Creole34 Speaker 1: Morruk, cabé ‘good morning, comrade’, huso ju be die frufru? Translation: Good morning comrade. How are you this morning? S2: dank, mi be fraj? Huso ju slaap dunko? Ju ka drum enista fraj? [Thanks, I am well. How did you sleep (last) night?] ‘Did you dream something good?’ S1: mi no ha slaap fraj, mi ha ha pin ‘pain’ na mi tan ‘tooth’, ma die fru die be mussie better, dank God. [I didn’t sleep well; I had pain in my tooth but this morning it is much better, thank God.] S2: Ju aht (comes from English aught) to fo loop na die doctor fo trek die tan na bitte. [You ought to go to the doctor to take the tooth out.] S1: mi addu (comes from English rather) wak bitzji meer, fo kik as die tan sal pin mi weeran, dan mi sal loop fo trek die. Wat ju sal jeet fo frukost ‘breakfast’ van dag? [I’d rather wait a bit more to see if the tooth will pain me again, then I will go to pull it. What will you eat for breakfast today?] S2: mi sal ha stof fleis ‘stewed meat’ mit bateta ‘potatoes’ en dan ene kominsje ‘cup’ te. Cabé Meria, ju loop na ju grun ‘field’ fo lo peck geambó en dig ‘dig’ bateta. Die pampun no ka rip nungal ‘are not ripe yet’ te die manskin ful ‘until the full moon’. Die Peterselje no bin fraj nungal fo snie ‘cut’. [I will have stewed meat with potatoes and then a cup of tea. Comrade Meria, you go to your farm pick okra and dig

34 We have added additional translations in brackets to Pontoppidan’s intermittent glosses. 220 appendix one

potatoes? The pumpkins won’t have ripened yet until the full moon. The parsley isn’t good yet to cut.] S1: huso die beest lo kom an? [How are the animals coming on?] S2: die how cirj bin fol, en sal gaw ha calluf. Die boricka ka marro ‘the mule became wild’ en caló over die bergi, mi ka stier die jung fo lo fang die. Die farki ‘young pig/s’ bin na cot, mi lolo suk bateta-tow35 ‘stem’ fo jeet fo die. Een cuj ka kom over die barcad ‘barriers’ en ka destroi ‘ruined’ alga die jung plantsoon; wen mi fang die mi sal drag die na fort, mak die eigenaer betal. Mi lolo na taphus ‘city’, mi lolo suk stekki sowed gut ‘a piece of salted [meat]’ fo mi goj na pot. [The old cow is at full term and will soon have calf. The mule has escaped and has gone over the hill; I have sent the youth to catch it. The pig is in the pen; I’m going to look for sweet-potato vine for food for it. A cow has come over the fence and has destroyed all the new plantation; when I catch it, I will bring it to the jail, make the owner pay. I am going to town; I am looking for a bit of salt meat to throw into my pot.] S1: Wat ju sal ha fo dinner? [What will you have for dinner?] S2: mi no weet, mi wel ‘love’ bak fes mit bak ‘baked’ banana; wen mi no kan ha ander, mi jeet sowed gut mit funchi ‘flour groats’. [I don’t know, I like baked fish with baked banana; when I can’t have anything else, I eat salt meat with fungi.] S1: mi wonder,36 as die ha eniste nyw ‘something new’ na taphus; mi mankee loop fo weet die nyw, as mi kom na plantaj; fordimak we ha werk fo du na plantaj. Wi37 ha fo loop na camina ‘field’ fo lo plant die sukustok ‘sugarcane’. [I wonder if there is any news in town; I want to go to know the news when I come to the plantation because we have work to do on the plantation. We have to go to the field to go plant the sugarcane.] S2: ma biren ‘neighbor’, die pot lo brau ‘boils over’. [But neighbor, the pot is boiling over.] S1: du die na grun ‘put him on the ground’ te mi hoppo. Mi lo prat mit die mester, ma mi sal kom kik na die miselluf. [Put it on the ground,

35 It may ve that caló should be /ka lo/ ‘has gone’; /maro/ is escape. 36 Wonder is an English borrowing. 37 The Negerhollands third person plural pronoun is /ons/. some notes on the creole language 221

until I get up. I am going to talk with the master, but I will come see to it myself.] S2: mi sal groot te asteran ‘I am greeting for the time being’, mi sal kom weeran. [I will leave my greetings with you for the time being, I will come again.] S1: Adios. ‘Good bye’. [Good day.]

Appendix two

The Danish West Indian Creole Language1

by Eric Pontoppidian Translated by Robin Sabino and Anne-Katrin Gramberg with the assistance of Erik Gøbel, gratefully acknowledged

The word creole [n., adj.], (Spanish: criollo, probably derived from criar, to grow, increase) meaning ‘in the West Indian language’, about the same as ‘native’; in our islands, a creole Negro, is a native-born Negro, and a white creole, a native born white West Indian. Also an inanimate object as well as a language can be creole. The creole language grew up on West Indian soil and is, after a short lifetime, near death. Nowadays, one will hardly find anyone who can speak it, and I myself now consider this as a nearly dead language. More attention to it, while one may still find living sources who speak it, may recall it from oblivion, and I have also thought that Danish readers will find it pleasurable to make at least a fleeting acquain- tance with the language which for 100 years has spoken in our West Indian possessions and which still goes under the designation “Danish-Creole.” These days, as is known, English is the dominant language for our West Indian islands, not only the official language but also the daily vernacular for the white as well as the colored population. But this certainly has not always been so, and the supremacy of the English language is actually comparatively recent. In the beginning of the last century,2 the islands were colonized by a very mixed and motley population. Dutchmen, Frenchmen, Spaniards, Englishmen, and Danes at different times came to the land and afterwards cultivated it with the labor of imported African slaves. Among the white colonizers no nationality predominated, and no language was common among the population; everyone used his/her own mother tongue in his/ her own circle and had partial understandings of the others; Native West

1 This article was written in Danish in 1887. Many of Pontoppidian’s observations in this article also appear in the previous one. The conventions we use and a number of our observations are also the same: Thus, we do not repeat them here. Therefore, gentle reader, we ask that you begin with Appendix I. 2 Colonization began in 1672. 224 appendix two

Indians have always been a very multilingual folk. And the black slaves then gradually molded their own mixed language, collected from all of the available European elements, Dutch, French, Spanish, or Danish, in which the first named was the most strongly represented. That [language] became predominant in all three islands and in addition to being used among the slaves was employed reciprocally between them and their white masters, even becoming one day a sort of a lingua franca among the white creoles. Around the middle of the eighteenth century, the slaves, which had thus far lived in a Godless state, were converted to Christianity by the Hernhuter missionaries, the so-called Moravians, (Maehrische Brothers), partly by the catechists that were sent from Denmark. These obviously needed to acquaint themselves with [the] creole language themselves and, in the beginning, they instructed the slaves orally. Soon there was the need for printed aides, and between 1765 and 1770 the first small books in creole were published: namely Psalm books, primers, and Luther’s little catechism. In 1781 the New Testament, translated into creole, was published. Naturally the language which was created by half-civilized Negroes for daily use was too limited and too impoverished for thought and expression to satisfactorily represent any but the most mundane and everyday things, and it was therefore necessary to have recourse to the parent languages, especially to Dutch, in order to make it suitable for use in wider spheres. In that way, there emerged Hoch Kreol, which was used for literacy and for religious purposes, and the low creole which generally the Negroes spoke in their daily activities. It can be said, as will be seen from the attached list of literature which is more or less complete, several books in creole were published until well into this [i.e., the nineteenth] century which all were of religious content: psalm books or devotional books. Religious services at the colored church continued to be in creole until the [18]30’s. But in the meantime there was a linguistic change; English became, especially after the British occupation of 1807–1814, more and more prevalent while the creole, especially the high creole, and especially in town [i.e., Charlotte Amalie] went into oblivion, so that children at confirmation instruction had to learn it as a foreign language. The last creole textbook was published in 1827, and in the middle of the [18]30’s creole sermons were replaced by English ones. These days, knowledge of creole has almost totally disappeared from St. Croix; and in the city on St. Thomas [i.e. Charlotte Amalie] one can find here and there old Negro women who still can speak it, and of the white creoles some of the older generation, who remember it from their the danish west indian creole language 225 childhood. Out among the country Negroes it is better retained and in the more isolated and untouched island of St. John one can still hear old folk daily using creole with each other with ease but even with greater facility and experience than English. But for the younger generation it is even there a dead language, and it will not be long until it will be completely forgotten and can live only in place names and perhaps in a few old proverbs and sayings.3 It was[,] therefore [,] already some years since I resided in the Islands, when I strove, with some difficulty and few useful sources, to become a little familiar with this old, funny and really quite interesting language since the consultants were mostly very old country Negroes who could neither read and write and whose ideas and vocabulary did not go beyond their closest circle. Beside this remnant of the living, spoken language one has the high creole literature, which compared to the actual and original Negro language was regarded [as] artificial and concocted so that the Negroes themselves barely understood [it] in some places seemed more like a bad Dutch. Thus the translator of the New Testament also states in the Foreword “It is necessary for spiritual matters to follow Dutch rather than the actual common language of the creoles, so I am obliged to give a warning that I have followed the same rules in this translation of the New Testament. I have followed the Creole manner of speaking overall, but I have not used the common words and language because that is not appropriate for so spiritual a matter.”4 This is more Dutch-Danish than creole: As an example, using this variety to simply state a thing such as “spreeken” or “spraek” in ordinary creole “Tal dit Sprog”, would sound like “Prat ju Tael”. Also Magens himself in his grammar, after the introduction and catechism speaking of a Negro [writes]: “As one cannot correctly understand conversation or learn the actual creole ways of speaking which are used in the daily dealings, because the theological ways of speaking and its word use were mostly [patterned] after Dutch, etc.”

3 When Sabino arrived in St. Thomas in the early 1970s, those who were aware of Virgin Islands Dutch Creole pronounced /frai, daŋki/ ‘good, thank you,’ the response to /hoso ju be/? ‘how are you?’ as fried donkey. A few persons also knew the proverb, /kaklaka no ha bistɛl na hundu hus/ ‘cockroach doesn’t have business in fowl house’. 4 Pontopiddan quotes Magens: “Die bin noodsaeklig na geestlige Sacken for volg die hollands Spraek, als the regte Oorsprong van die Creolese, so mi bin verpligt for giev een Waerskowing ookal, dat mi ka volg die selve Regel na deese Oversetting van die Nywe Testament. Mi ka volg die Creolese Spreek-Manier overal, maer mi no ka wil gebryk di Woorden en Spreeken, vordiemaek die no pa na een geestlig Materie” (298). 226 appendix two

I shall therefore in the following give special consideration to the actual creole, that which is spoken or perhaps more correctly spoken for daily use, I will instead of taking my examples from the printed material, employ a collection of proverbs, which for the most part, I have gotten from the oral tradition and which absolutely characterizes this simple and singular nature of the language. Anyone who has lived with the Negroes, knows also the ease with which they use a foreign language. But ease of acquisition only goes so far. The quick acquisition of a small supply nouns, adjectives, verbs, and using them with great virtuosity is certainly far from having respect for grammatical rules. Grammar creates for them insurmountable difficulties even in such a simple and formless language as English. Even the Negroes who were born and bred on English possessions, hardly ever, or never, overcome [this], and one hears them use “I is,” “you am,” “me be,” “a teeth,” etc. just as often than the correct forms. The Negroes speak English, French, or Spanish accordingly, using the same method as a child with little respect for grammar; it is therefore not a wonder that the creole, which as an original Negro language fulfills all their needs in that respect; that is, as one knows perfectly well and, as I dare say, it is ideal as it probably would be impossible to invent a simpler language, and, it [the creole] differs in a decent way from Madvig’s Latin grammar by having next to no rules and no “irregularities.”5 Another characteristic of the creole language is its wealth of proverbs of which a good deal are rather original and striking. Their material is always taken from the Negroes’ narrow circles and for that reason there are domestic animals in many of them. Many of these bear witness to considerable insight and power of observation not generally associated with these lower members of the Negro associates [i.e. the animals]. They are used with striking frequency, and one can hear such old Negroes carry on a conversation almost exclusively in proverbs and sayings. It seems as if an uncultivated person, who never looks over his narrow boundaries, observes movements in his familiar sphere sharply and correctly, and that proverbs and sayings, as stereotype forms of ideas which easily stamp themselves in memory by their repeated use,6 in many cases economize

5 Johan Nicolai Madvid, 1804–1886, was an influential Danish philologist and politician. 6 This insight is relevant to the Negerhollands features in proverbs recorded by Magens and Oldendorp. the danish west indian creole language 227 the work of elaborating new thoughts and expressions for that weak, untrained intelligence. Among the languages which have contributed to the creole formulation, Dutch stands distinct in points in relation to Hoch Kreol. But when it comes to [the] low creole, it is difficult to determine the origins of many words. It is necessary to remember that the consultants are generally igno- rant field Negroes who are illiterate and whose pronunciation often varies from location to location or across individuals. There are a great many words which are indeterminate between Dutch, Danish, and English; it is not easy to see the paternity one should assign [a word] positively. Words like fes ‘fish’, pin ‘pain’, werk ‘work’ and many others can just as well proceed from one as from the other language. On the other hand, one finds[,] however, also rather pure Dutch, Danish and English words and their proportion answers to their [listed] order. The English contingent is in any case the smallest, perhaps barely as large as those which French and Spanish have provided. These last elements are naturally a part easy to distinguish. The French [words] are first of all those which have a more cosmopolitan distribution and are found in all languages like Pardoon, Plesier, Creatier, Consciensje, Permissje, Satisfacsje, Condisje, etc. There is also a whole series of verbs all with the ending eer like respekteer, assisteer, exkyseer, pardonneer, permitteer, trakteer, persoadeer, forceer, obserweer, murmureer. The same ending can be attached to words that are not French like feroneer, leweer, vermeer. The Spanish portion has numerous names for animals, plants and domestic utensils but one does, however, find such words as pará ‘prepare’, cabà7 ‘complete’, mata ‘kill’. On the whole it is difficult to find any system in this gathering of word stock, they use forms from [various] languages. In this way, loop means ‘go’ and kurir means ‘run’. Strangely enough there are extraordinarily few words of African origin. Among these are obeah, jumbi, mumbo-jumbi (meaning witchcraft and superstition) and possibly a few others. On the other hand, some [words] seem to be of pure creole origin and as often these are onomatopoeic forms such as gurru-gurru ‘throat’, pat-pat ‘duck’. Such a doubling or repetition of a word is specifically creole and often indicates a reinforcement of the expression or something which is a quickly repeating action, for example pik pik ‘collect, gather’, war war ‘truly’, heel heel, ‘entirely’, hoop

7 Mrs. Stevens pronounced the first syllable in /kaba/ with slightly more prominence than the second. 228 appendix two hoop ‘big heap’, gau gau ‘very quickly’, fru fru ‘early in the morning’, soo soo ‘nothing at all’, voor voor ‘long before’ (i.e., much earlier), gugue8 ‘very much’, and stik stik ‘piece by piece’.9 From all these words gathered together from everywhere has now been created a language characterized by having absolutely no morphology, for as a general rule words do not change shape. What in other languages would be called inflections and the like are out of the question and can but be expressed with articles and helping verbs. Singular and plural are like this: een kabaj ‘a horse’, mussie kabaj, ‘many horses’. The genitive is expressed thusly: een man sie kabaj, ‘a man’s horse’ (literally a man his horse.) Emphatic plural can be expressed by adding a form: die man sender ‘men’. Both nouns, adjectives and articles are invariant in gender and number: een maroon Pussie ‘a wild cat’, twee maroon Neger, ‘two wild (run away) Negroes’. Comparison is formed with meer or meest. The personal pronouns mi, ju, him, ons, ju, die, are also used as possessives: mi bang ju hund ‘I am frightened of your dog’. Verbs are not conjugated at all, and tense is signaled by context, e.g., mi kik di kabaj ‘I see the horse; mi kik die kabai, wanneer mi cabà, ‘I shall see the horse when I am finished’; or conjugations are undertaken in careful language by expressing the perfective with the help of either ha or ka: mi ha kik ‘I have seen’, future with the sa or lo:10 mi sa kik ‘I shall see’. One does not find a proper passive in the creole, but infrequently and mostly in Hoch Kreol a circumlocution with bin can be used: mi bin verfolgt ‘I was followed’. As the intention here is not to write a grammar of the creole language but to outline its very simple structure, it might be expedient of give an impression thereof, as well of the character of the language as a whole, by providing some examples. I shall first present the Ten Commandments in Creole:

8 ‘Much’ is muči; guŋgu ‘big, large, great’ is not a reduplicated form. 9 Mrs. Stevens consistently used frufru ‘morning’ and wawa ‘truth’. 10 As discussed in Chapter 9, In Negerhollands, /lo/ encodes both progressive aspect and proximate future. Negerhollands /sa/ has a range of hypothetical and remote meanings (e.g., mi no diŋ di watu da sa wes frai ‘I neg think the water there r/h future be good.’). the danish west indian creole language 229

[The Ten Commandments] i. Mi bin die Heer, ju Godt, ju no sa ha niet een ander Godt meer as mi. [I am the Master, your God, you shall not have not one other God more than me.] ii. Ju no sa gebryk die Heer ju Godt sie Naem na een wissie-wassie Manier, fordimaek die Heer him sa straf sender, die le gebryk sie Naem voor soso. [You shall not use the Master your God’s name in a wishie-washie manner because the Master he shall punish those, it using his name thusly.] iii. dink op die Rest-Dag, dat ju hou him heilig. [Think on the rest day that you hold him holy.] iV. respkteer ju Tata mi ju Mama, dat die kan loop ju frai, en dat ju dan leef lang na bobo die Aerde. [Respect your father and your mother, that it can go you well, and that you then live long on the earth.] V. iu11 no sa matá niet en Volk. [You shall kill not one person.] VI. iu no saa Luur12. [You shall not lie.] VII. iu no sa dief. [You shall not steal.] VIII. iu no sa prat fals Getiegen teegen ju Naeste. [You shall not speak false testimony against your neighbor.]

Creole Proverbs and Sayings Een finger no kan fang lus. ‘One finger can’t catch lice.’ Kakerlak no ha bestel na hundu sji kot. ‘Cockroach has nothing to do in his fowl house.’13 Mi bin pober kakelak, no ha regt na Hundu-kot. ‘I am a poor cockroach, I have no right in the fowl house.’14 Hundu suk makutu, makutu tu him. ‘The fowl goes towards the basket, the basket falls over it.’ Pad mi long, cheambó15 drog na sji boom. ‘My path is long, fruit will dry on its tree.’

11 This should be /ju/. 12 Mrs. Stevens used /lik/ ‘lie’ as a noun and verb. 13 Literally ‘the fowl’s house’. 14 This version, also recorded by Magens (in Graves 1977), misses the point implicit in the Negerhollands version: kaklaka no ha bistel na hundu hus. That is cockroaches have no business in fowl houses, so they should not risk being eaten when they enter them. In his 1881 article Pontoppidan gives “Kakerlaker no ha bestel na hundu sji cot.” 15 Pontoppidan writes geambó in his 1881 article. Mrs. Stevens used [kjambo] and [kiambo] for ‘okra’. 230 appendix two

Blau diffie seg: wanner die16 regen caba, mi sal bau mi eigen hus. ‘The blue dove (a bird which builds a common nest) says: when the rain stops, I will build my own house’. Pobre folk no fo ha hart bran.17 ‘Poor people must not have warm heart’ [cannot afford the luxury of anger]. Na guj hart mak kabrita sji gat bin nabitti. ‘His good heart causes the goat’s bottom to be exposed’. Wanneer de wind ris, ju fo kik hundu sie gat. ‘When the wind rises, you can see the chickens’ bottoms’. Pobre no bin fraj. ‘Poor is not good’. Hundu seg: mi kan sweer for mi eju, ma no fo mi kikinsji. ‘The hen says: I can swear for my egg, but not for my chick’. Na groot geest mak Krabbo no ha kop. ‘Its large spirit causes the crab not have (a) head’. Wanneer chekké sie flegon ha breek, him suk fo how geselskap mit hundu. ‘When the guinea hen broke its wing, then it looks for the chickens’ company’. Cocro no bang Slang, Slang no bang cocro. ‘The crocodile is not afraid of the snake, the snake is not afraid of the crocodile’. Water kok fo fes, fes no weet. ‘The water is being boiled for the fish, but the fish doesn’t know it’. Kuj sie horn nojt sa bin swar fo him drag. ‘The cow’s horn never becomes too heavy for her to carry’. Brambi fal na molassi, da sut him ka fen. ‘The ant fell into the syrup because she found it sweet’. Bergi mit Bergi no kan tek, ma twee mens sal tek. ‘Mountain can’t meet with mountain, but two people have to meet’. Mata mumma, du die before die kint, him sal jeet; mata kint, du die fo mumma, him no sal jeet, him sal kris. ‘Kill the mother and serve her to the child, it [the child] wants to eat her; kill the child and serve it [the child] to the mother, she does not want to eat it, she will cry. Wat ple ju bottle bin, mi glas bin. ‘Where your bottle is, my glass is’. Een man dodt een ander man brod. ‘One man’s death, another man’s bread’.

16 The 1881 article has Blau diffie seg: wen regen caba, mi sal bau mi eigen hus. This is correct. Nouns in Negerhollands proverbs are typically are not referring expressions and, thus are not definite. 17 His 1881 article has Pobre folluk no fo ha hart bran. the danish west indian creole language 231

No man suk sji eigen wif.18 ‘No man courts his own wife’. Man dodt, besjet kurie na sji door. ‘When a man is dead, grass grows in front of his door’. No fordimak pussje wander him fang rotter. ‘It isn’t because the cat wanders around [walks] that she catches rats’. Krabbo no wander, him no kom fet; as him wander attofel, him sal loop na pot. ‘If the crab doesn’t move [walk], she will not become fat; but if she walks around too much, she walks [go] into the pot’. Pampuen no kan parie kalbas. ‘Pumpkin no can bear calabash’. Hundu weet sie nest. ‘Hen know her nest’. Hundu wil sie kikintsji atofel. ‘Hen loves her chicks too much’. Hogo no ha door. ‘Eye no have door’. Leelik folk ha fraj gut. ‘Bad people have good things’. Hund ha fir fut, no kan loop twee pat. ‘Dog have four feet, no can go two paths’. As ju no ha loop na Krabbo Gat, ju no sa hoor krabbo nyws. ‘If you don’t go to the crab hole, you won’t hear the crab’s news’. As pober folk doot, Guwerneer no hoor; as rik Folk doot, Guwerneer ka hoor. ‘When poor people die, [the] govenor doesn’t hear, if rich people die, [the] Govenor has heard’. No na eenmal aleen Man kan suk wif. ‘It’s not once only [a] man looks for [his] wife’. As die Fier ka yt, klein kint jump na die hassesje. ‘When the fire goes out, small child jumps in the ashes’. As Pussie ka slaep, rotto le kuri na flur. ‘When the cat is asleep, mice run[ing] on the floor’.19 As folk ka quaet na ju, sender gif ju makutu for tap water. ‘When people are angry with you, they give you basket to pour water [in]’. Twee slem no kan kok boontje na een pot. ‘Two evil people can’t cook beans in the same pot’. Diefman no betrou sie Maet drag groot sak. ‘[a] thief doesn’t trust his mate to carry a big sack’. As kukkubak flieg, him weet na welk boom him sa flieg. ‘When the crow flies, he knows on which tree he will fly to’.

18 This is changed from the 1881 article where Pontoppidan gives Ekke man suk sji eigen wif ‘every man courts his own wife’. 19 The particle le marks this as Hoch Kreol; /roto/ is rat. The discordant aspect marking (i.e., perfective /slap/ in the first clause and progressive /kuri/ in the second also seems odd. 232 appendix two

Makaku weet, na wat boom him sa klem. ‘Monkey knows on what tree he shall climb’. Die gut kan du stok, can du tou. ‘The thing can do stick, can do rope’. Die gut bin na slang bik, bin na kaketis bik vookal.20 ‘The thing [that] is in snake’s belly, is in lizard’s belly also’. Pober folk no mut ha wil. ‘Poor people must not have desires’.

20 Vookal is an error: oka(l) is ‘also’. Appendix three

Glossary of variable Virgin Islands Dutch Creole Forms

AIII.0 Introduction

The intent of this glossary is to illustrate the largely systematic nature of the internally and externally motivated lexical variation in Virgin Islands Dutch Creole. While it does not claim to be exhaustive, its entries are rep- resentative of the variation associated with Virgin Islands Dutch Creole roots and grammaticalized forms. Because my focus is on variation, invariant forms and variant forms attested by de Jong but not documented in his published texts are excluded unless they are also mentioned in one of the other sources. Proper nouns, including place names, also are excluded. Capitalization is regularized. Etymological sources are given only when the references are obscure or when the information is particularly revealing with respect to creole genesis. Since Negerhollands words are multifunc- tional, word class is indicated only when evidence suggests limited use. Examples are taken from the following printed sources: (M.) Magens 1770, as translated by Hale n.d.) and Magens’s proverbs listed in Dyhr 2001 and Graves 1977, (O.) Oldendorp 1987, 2000, (P.) Pontoppidan 1881, 1887, (D.) de Jong 1926, (N.) Nelson 1936,1 (G.) Graves 1977, (V.) Valls 1981. Variants in Magens, Oldendorp, Graves, and Valls are presented as orthographic forms if they do not clearly represent alternate spellings of phonemic forms documented by de Jong or me. For example bang (P.) is represented as baŋ (P., D., S.) , but deer (M.) ‘door’ is listed separately from do (D., S.) and dor (O., P., D., N., G.). The phonemicization used for the twentieth-century Negerhollands data is described in Chapter 7. Examples are taken first from my audio recorded conversations with Mrs. Stevens. These are marked as (S)Ex. Among the remaining sources, the de Jong narratives were searched first. Examples from Pontoppidian are

1 Reinecke (1937:408) writes of a word list that “Nelson in 1936, secured from two to three old people on St. Thomas.” Den Besten (p.c., 9/19/1996) attributes some of the anom- alies in this word list to typing and transcription errors. He writes of “ ‘new’ ” data collected by Nelson which were unavailable at the time the glossary was complied. 234 appendix three limited to his proverbs and putative Negerhollands conversation. Items from Graves are those she used in her dissertation. Although some of these are from earlier sources, she is credited as accepting them. Valls, who considered “English the language of our head and Creole the language of our heart,” (1981:n.p.) lived for many years on St. John. His dictionary was compiled over a number of years, and reflects the input of a number of unnamed people. The entries are configured as shown below:

Head word Variant Sources Additional information

ak (D., N.) also akt (D., S.) ‘eight’. Occurs as a root in aktin (D., N.), ‘eighteen’, aktik (D.) ‘eighty’, akdᴧ (D.) ‘eight’ and in the compound akɛntwintik (D.) ‘twenty eight’. (S.) EX. sɛwun, ak, negun, tin, alᴧf, twalᴧf. (S.) EX. en, twe, dri, , fɛv, sɛs, sɛwun, akt, negun, tin, alif, twalif.

Examples Figure 14. Entry format

AIII.1 A Glossary of Variable Negerhollands Forms a1 (D., S.) also na (P., N.) ‘prenominal copula, topicalizer’. De Jong (1926) suggests da is an older form. (S)Ex. an a en ro frau. Ex. na groot geest mak crabbo no ha kop. a2 (D., S.) also as (O., P., D., G., S.) az, es (D.), als (G.) ‘like, when, if’; so (D.) ‘if’. (S)Ex. a ju maŋki. (S)Ex. am a fra mi as mi lo dil mi senu. Ex. sini a fra az di ha me. Ex. bot wes putikla: es {not}, di sa drai ju a en sten. Ex. ɛf ju drag mi na fort, sɛl lo sla mi ɛn du mi na strat for wɛrʌk. Ex. wɛni am ka was di pot, so du di bo di sten, dan di pot nu kuk taltal. abɛne also (a)bɛnɛ, ʌbɛnɛ, ʌbɛnʌ, ʌbɛne, abɛni, (ʌ)bɛni (S.), a bɛnɛ (N.), binɛ (G.), nabini (D.), abini (D., G., V.), bini (D., G., V., S.), ini (D., V.), i(n) (D.), binnɛ (G.) ‘in, into, inside’. (S)Ex. mi dra di noli abɛne di pat. (S)Ex. sen du sʌut abɛnɛ di fles. (S)Ex. fuluk kop senu an sen ha senu a se hus ʌbɛne en fɛrki pɛn. (S)Ex. ju du di filis ʌbɛnɛ dʌ pan. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 235

(S)Ex. mi a fin am ʌbɛnʌ mi man ši hus. (S)Ex. alma bɛnɛ di hus, hʌndu stɛn, alma bɛnɛ di bus, bo bom, alma ʌbit. (S)Ex. ju du ɛn stɛk {lard} abɛni di. (S)Ex. mi a faŋ am ʌbɛni di {trap}. (S)Ex. ɛn ju kan pɛk di sʌut fʌm bɛni di pond. Ex. {rabbit} a wɛs a en ši nabini di bus lo ho anansi eke gut wa anansi a lo fluk am. Ex. am ha lo rɛt abini. (S)Ex. hoso di hundu a kri fan bini di kubu? Ex. ǰomp ini di ríva lo was ju lif. Ex. am na ka kri fo faŋ am in gʌhel. Ex. sini a wɛs druŋk, ka lɛi mɛl i flu, bot di finjol lo flig alen. abit(i)2 (D., S.) also ʌbit(i) (S.), abidi (D., V.), bitte, nabitti (P.), a biti (N.), it, et, yt (M., D.) ‘out’. Occurs in the compound (na)bitiši (D.) ‘outside’. (S)Ex. dɛn mi a riŋ senu an mi haŋ senu abiti. (S)Ex. mi lo abit fandʌ duŋku. (S)Ex. no liste di hundu lo ʌbiti. (S)Ex. alma bɛnɛ di hus, hʌndu stɛn, alma bɛnɛ di bus, bo bom, alma ʌbit. Ex. sini a briŋ am abidi. Ex. ju {aht to} fo loop na die doctor fo trek die tan na bitte. Ex. na gut hart mak kabrita sji gat bin nabitti. Ex. den sini a flig mi am it fa di gat. Ex. . . . sini ha saban fo klar et fo di kui mi kabai fo kri gras fo sini jet. Ex. ham a rup yt a sini: di ha ɛn lɛ ni mi fɛr wɛ fa ons. abo(bo) (D., S.) also ʌbo (S.), bo (D., N., G., S.), bobo (M.) bobu (D.), bono (D., G.), bu, nabo(no), aobu (D.), obu (D., G.), op (D., G.), ovɛr (G.), over (M.) ‘above, on (top), over, up(er)’. Also occurs in the reduplicated form obra obra (D.) ‘overall’ and in the compounds bobovenstʌ (D.) ‘upper window’, and obʌsi (D., V.) ‘overseer’. (S)Ex. wun abobo dɛr fam dɛn {until} nu. (S)Ex. sen ko abo dʌ sten, an wɛnʌ ju lo a di ze, ju pɛk sɛnu fam bo di stin. (S)Ex. ju ha boba ʌbo ju skun. Ex. ju bin altee hart bobo ons bierman. Ex. am sla bobu ananši. Ex. am a ǰum bono am.

2 Mrs. Stevens also corrected abit to abiti. 236 appendix three

Ex. ši ma a ne am bu di bergi. Ex. . . . am sa gi am di da, fodima a en swe {crop} bi nabo di lan. Ex. mi popa wes en mɛskɛnɛ nabono dʌ plantai. Ex. am wun aobu di bɛrgi, bini dʌ bus, ondu en grot bom. Ex. ham a drai di obu. Ex. pikhout bejer bin guet for maek volk gief over. Ex. am a se am fo lo goi am abini fo filjas a s slot am op. aǰos (S., N.) also aǰoe, adios, (G.), adio (D.) ‘good day’. A reflex of Danish adjøs ‘good bye’. Nelson glosses aǰos as ‘good bye’. Mrs. Stevens used aǰos both as a greeting and in leave taking. (S)Ex. mi a se am aǰos. Ex. prisjas se: ta mi lo sɛ mi muma adio, mi fadʌ jusiʌs. addu1 (P.) also (r)edʌ (D.) ‘rather’. Ex. mi addu wak bitzji meer . . . Ex. so dʌ man ha se: nen bas, mi sa edʌ ju sla mi, nafo ju drag mi na fort. Ex. am a redʌ bli mi ɛm sɛlf. afo (D., S.) also afor, (na)fo (D.), na bobo (M.) ‘before, in front’. McWhorter (2000, citing a number of sources), gives Portuguese (a)fora ‘outside’. (S)Ex. mi a stan afo ʌm. Ex. bumba a ne di {gang} afor am. Ex. so dʌ man ha se: nen bas, mi sa edʌr ju sla mi, nafo ju drag mi na fort. Ex. so sinu no ka fotɛk am fodima am ko a hus fo sinu. Ex. jender no wil drink een glas na bobo jender wandeltje? ak (D., N.) also akt (D., S.) ‘eight’. Occurs as a root in aktin (D., N), ‘eighteen’, aktik (D.) ‘eighty’, akdʌ (D.) ‘eighth’ and in the compound akɛntwintik (D.) ‘twenty eight’. (S)Ex. sɛs, sɛwun, ak, negun, tin, alʌf, twalʌf. (S)Ex. en, twe, dri, fi, fɛiv, sɛs, sivun, akt, negun, tin, alif, twalif. al(da) (D.) also alga (D., G.), alma (D., G., S.), almal (D.) ‘all’. According to de Jong (1926), alda is an emphatic form. Occurs in the compound altit (D., G., V.) ‘always, ever’. Ex. . . . al wa am kan du nu a fo am gi ši kin op a en plɛsi mani. . . . Ex. an sini a begin jit alda di jit. Ex. dʌ menši ha se, am ka ma alga sot gut. (S)Ex. alma bɛnɛ di hus, hʌndu stɛn, alma bɛnɛ di bus, bo bom, alma ʌbit. Ex. ɛlken niw man am ha for lo n kapun almal di juŋ bokn sɛnr. ale (D., G., S.) also alen (O., D., G.) ‘alone, only’. (S)Ex. ju lo ale; {you go alone}. Ex. sini a wɛs druŋk, ka lɛi mɛl i flu, bot di finjol lo flig alen. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 237 amole (D., S.) also amolɛ (D., S.), na molee (M.) ‘below’. Occurs in the compounds moledo ‘bottom door’ and molevɛnɛstʌ (D.) ‘bottom window’. (S)Ex. mi ka ki en bʌkra lo lo amole da. (S)Ex. amolɛ. Ex. hael mie hemete beetje na molee. an1 (D., N., S.) also han (D.), am (D., N., G., S.), a, ʌm (S.), ham (D., G), hem (M.), him (P.), ɛm (O., G., S.), m (D.) ‘third person singular pronoun’. One of de Jong’s consultants favored ham in subject position and clause initially; am was favored in object position and when proceeded by a vowel (Sabino and Graff 1984). Occurs in the compound amsel(f ) (D.) ‘him/herself, oneself’. (S)Ex. an a se a lo ki mi wɛran, {but} mi noit a ki a weran. Ex. han a se, wa am lo suk te hi, wa am nam. (S)Ex. am a fra mi as mi lo dil mi senu. (S)Ex. mi a stan afo ʌm. Ex. ham na kan ris dʌ sten. Ex. wat ha maek hem soo stout? Ex. no fordimak pussje wander him fang rotter. (S)Ex. mi a wɛl ɛm muči. Ex. . . . du wat ju wil met ham; dra m na fort o gi am en frai skiriŋ. an2 (D., S.) also en (S.), ɛn (P., D., G., S.), n (D.) ‘and’. (S)Ex. dɛn mi a riŋ senu an mi haŋ senu abiti. (S)Ex. dan ju drai di, ju drai di, ju drai di, en ju drai di. (S)Ex. sen sɛt ʌbɛni dʌ manskin ɛn sen spɛl. Ex. elken niw man am ha for lo n kapun almal di juŋ bokn sɛnr. andu (D., G., S.) also andʌ (D., G.), andʌr (D.), ander (M., P.), andi (D.), anda (G.) andos (N.) ‘other’. Occurs in the compound anduwis ‘otherwise’ (S.), anandu (D., S.), ɛnandu (S.), enandu (D.) ‘another’. (S)Ex. ju a ne en, ne {up} di andu wa bin {there} a gron. Ex. ši ma a se am, am fo lo: an sa fin ši popa a di andʌ ši da. Ex. wʌn mi no kan ha andʌr, mi jet sowɛd gut mit funči. Ex. een man dodt een ander man brod. Ex. so am a wis di andi ši fa di lan. antu(t) (S.) also anturt (D., G.), antwordt (G.) ‘answer’. (S)Ex. antu, antut mi. Ex. wɛni am wɛrʌk te ši bik bigín fo slak wɛran, am a anturt dʌ gubi wɛran. apɛ, api (D., G.) also ape (D., N., S.), abɛ (G.), ɛpe, upɛ (N.), wapɛ (G.), wapi, wa (D.) ‘where’. Although Mrs. Stevens used api, she correct me saying “{not} api, apɛ.” (S)Ex. am a wɛ, a fra mi: apɛ mi a wun. 238 appendix three

Ex. fra sini, api si dri ho. (S)Ex. an a wandu a lo a en hus, en andu hus, ape ši šiši a ka trou. Ex. en klen menši a lo dra ši pupa frokos eke dak wapi ši am lo wark. . . . Ex. wa eke plɛ mi drai, mi no kan fin ekɛgut fo ma klen bitji sop. astu (D., S.) also nastu, astʌr (D.), asta (N., V.), na after (M.) ‘after, behind’. Nelson’s consultant(s) gloss asta as ‘afternoon’. Occurs in the compounds astumɛnda, astumenda (D., S.) ‘afternoon’, astuwod, astuwud (D.), astʌwot (V.) ‘afterwards’, and dɛarastɛr (G.) ‘behind’. (S)Ex. astu mi a guri dan mi a ki di. Ex. dan sinu stop fo sti di estu suku nu wa sinu a kap fo, a mak it fo sinu kri plɛ fo du di andu wa mi nastu wɛran. Ex. am a du di hon astʌr am. Ex. speal die na after. ašiši (D., S.), haši(ši) (D.) also babaši (D.), ‘ash(es)’. (S)Ex. ašiši. Ex. dan am a rup: haši ha hogo! Ex. anansi a ne somgut fa am {and} graf di abini hašiši. Ex. alma di hou ben sini wa bi nabini di graf ka drai leiki babaši, atufe (S.) also attofel (P.), atʌve (D., G.), atʌvel, altʌve(l) (D.), alteveel, altee, alte (M.) ‘plenty’. Mrs. Stevens uses this synonomously with muči. (S)Ex. di ha atufe fulʌk. Ex. hundu wil sie kikintsji attofel. Ex. wɛni am a rak a pat, am a se: dʌ gout mi atʌve swa. Ex. stendifi a se: mi sa len ju, bot mi wet, jɛn kan dif atʌvel. Ex. tɛkoma a wɛs en frai man, bot di kin sini a wɛs altʌve lɛlik. Ex. si nom ale am a ka dot fo kri am fo sla am foma am a ka dif si plantai altʌvel. Ex. maer ons ha wees alteveel soo die speel no ha wees sut. Ex. no maek die bruk altee nau . . . Ex. die bin alte dyer. awi (D., G., S.) also wi (G., S.), (a)widi (D., G.), da wie (M.) ‘who’. (S)Ex. se mi awi a du di. {Tell me who do it.} (S)Ex. wi lo rup mi? Ex. eke fulʌk maŋke wet awidi am bɛ. Ex. ham a fra: wama ju bi hi, widi ka du ju hi? Ex. da wie ha win? glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 239 baba (D., V.) also boba (D., S.), buba (D., S.) ‘mud, clay’. Occurs as root in babaši ‘ashes”. See above. Ex. wɛni rign fal, am ka lo de di baba mi ši skun. (S)Ex. ju ha boba ʌbo ju skun. (S)Ex. mi no maŋke enten buba abɛnɛ di palʌ. bakuba (D., S.) also bakoba (D.), bakove (O.), banana (N.). Oldendorp describes bakove as five or six inches long. Valls gives makuba ‘regular banana’ but does not identify it as a Negerhollands form. (S)Ex. dra di bakuba a ju meme. Ex. . . . ons nu kan mak it biči me a di sini a di sɛiči foma ons ka plan klen bakoba, tannia, klɛn jamus. baŋ (P., D., S.) also ‘afraid, fear, frightening’, skam (D.), skaɛm (G.) ‘fear’. (S)Ex. sen mi baŋ; mi ka kap senu mi di sten. Ex. bru {lion} kri skam fan ši hus. baŋg(a)la (D.) ‘club, bludgeon’. N. Hall (1992) describes bangelar as a stick with metal rings and a metal point used in stick fighting. Ex. am a ne en baŋgala. Ex. am a ha ši baŋgla. bata (D., N., V.), batɛta (P., G., S.), batita (D., N., G., S.), patitʌ (S.). De Jong (1926) glosses this as ‘a tuberous plant’. Westergård (1917) documents patatter ‘sweet potatoes’. Valls, Mrs. Stevens, and Nelson’s consultant(s) gloss this as ‘potato’. Graves glosses it as ‘yam’. Occurs in the compound batitastik (D., V.) ‘a piece of land where ground provisions are cultivated’. Ex. en wani sini ka goi op en hou sukustik, sini gi di a di fulʌk sini fo plan bata. (S)Ex. ju maŋke sut batɛta? sut batita. (S)Ex. sut patitʌ. batl (N., S.) also botl, bʌtl (S.) ‘bottle’. (S)Ex. ju skim di oli, du di abɛne en gut . . . ɛn ju kʌutu ɛn ju du di ʌbeni di batl. (S)Ex. botl. (S)Ex. mi maŋke en biči, en bʌtl supi. . . . bau (P.) also bou (D.) ‘build’. Ex. blau diffie seg: wanner die regen caba, mi sal bau mi eigen hus. Ex. so puši a bou en hus mɛ kalk wa sini na kan kri abiti. ben (D., G.) also bin (S.) ‘bone’. Ex. ši ben a wes me grot me a enʌstʌ man ben. (S)Ex. ju gi di hʌn di bin. 240 appendix three bes (D., G., S.) also beest (P.) ‘animal, beast’. Occurs in the compounds hanibes (D.) ‘horned cattle and bešɛt (D., N.), besjet (P.) ‘fodder’. Ex. am a mata di bes. Ex. huso die beest lo kom an? betu, bete, betʌr (D.) also bɛtʌ (D., G., S.), bɛtɛr (G.), beeter (M.) ‘better’. Ex. bru kabritabok a se a bru {lion}: bju, mi diŋ, mi kan sla di tamʌrin da betu a ju! Ex. am se, am diŋ bete lo {by} lan. Ex. dan am a se: mi sa du betʌr en andu mal. (S)Ex. mi ful en klen bɛtʌ. Ex. da beeter ons le rie morg vruvrue. bɛči (N., S.) also bɛtji (D.), beetje (M.), biči (D., S.), bitji (D.), bitzji (P.), biti (D., V.), ‘some, bit’. Redupliced as betji betji (D.) ‘bit by bit’. (S)Ex. mi prat a am, so an a wit ɛn klen bɛči. Ex. am a kri bɛtji me du bo wa am a ha. Ex. wag beetje, mie sa loop praet na mie meester. (S)Ex. lista mi pasɛ klen biči. Ex. wɛni ananši, ši skonbutji, a lo a tɛkoma ši hus, tɛkoma a gi am bitji fan di jit. Ex. mi addu wak bitzji meer, fo kik as die tan sal pin mi weeran,. . . . Ex. di hunduhan a jit biti fan di mais. bɛl (D., N.) also bil (D.) ‘rump’. Ex. ham a sɛ: aaaaw fo di da fo am plant jamus ko guŋgu lɛik ši bɛl. . . . Ex. wɛni am a lo fo trɛ di jamus, ekeren a wes so guŋgu lɛiki ši bil. bɛrɛ (D., S.) also bɛri (N., S.), bɛdɛ (D.) ‘bed’. (S)Ex. mi ha en guŋgu bɛrɛ ɛn dɛn {we} ha ɛn klɛnči. (S)Ex. mi a se, mi bin da abɛnɛ mi bɛri, {now}. Ex. di menši a flig undʌ di bɛdɛ. bestel (P.) also bʌstɛl (D.), bistɛl (S.) ‘business’. Ex. kakerlak no ha bestel na hundu sji kot. Ex. . . . mi a lo astʌr mi ɛigʌn bʌstɛl, lista am lo wak nabono di kabai. (S)Ex. mi ha bistɛl mi am. bɛt (D.) also bɛd (D.), bɛdl (N.), bed(ʌ)l (D.) ‘beg, request’. Occurs in the compound bedlman (D.), bɛdɛlman (G.) ‘beggar’. Ex. dan anansi a ho fo le bɛt padun fo sini du am a fort. Ex. so am a bɛd am fo los am, bot am na kan los. Ex. am a bedʌl am fo gi am en. Ex. . . . di kiniŋ a ki di, am a bedl di kiniŋ, {excuse} fo en klen tit. bʌdɛrʌf (D.) also bederf (O.), frot (D., S.), frʌt (S.) ‘rot, rotten’. Ex. di kiniŋ a ha en batita stik, a fra tekoma, as am kan lo fo ko tre it di batita fo sinu bʌdɛrʌf. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 241

Ex. die goed kom bederf. Ex. kiniŋ jusiʌs hus ha bli da frot mi di guŋgu stin sini abini di. (S)Ex. sen lo bran di en dak. sen lo bran di en dag. di mi frʌt. bi(n) (M., P. D., G., S.) also ben (O., P.) ‘clause-internal copula’. This is used primarily with locatives; mi (P., D., G., S.) typically occurs before adjectives. In final clause position be (D., S.) and vaer (M.) occur. Magens does not document bi in his dialogues; bin occurs infrequently in the twentieth-century material. (S)Ex. ju bi baŋ. (S)Ex. ju a ne en, ne {up} di andu wa bin de a gron. Ex. kuj sji horn noit sal ben swar for him drag. (S)Ex. mi mi mu. (S)Ex. wa da be? Ex. hueso ju vaer? bigin (D., S.) also bɛgin, bʌgin (D.) ‘begin’. (S)Ex. di win a bigin blas. Ex. an sini a bɛgin jit alda di jit. Ex. am a bʌgin gera. bik (D., N., G., S.) also big (D.) ‘belly’. (S)Ex. di mɛnši a ha en guŋgu bik. Ex. am a drin ši big ful. bin (D., G., S.) also ben, bint (D.), bind (M.) ‘bind’. (S)Ex. mi bin di tau a di sal kop. Ex. so mi pupa ha ben ham na en bom, ha du en frai skiriŋ nabono ham en los ham. Ex. dan bint si kak li wani fulʌk ka dot. Ex. kom bind mie haer. bital (D., S.) also bitalʌ (D.) ‘pay, payment’. (S)Ex. mi ha fʌ bital fʌ di hus. Ex. di govʌne a se: di da na enten bitalʌ. blaŋku (D., V., S.) also blaŋko (N.), bukra (D., S.), bʌkra (S.) ‘Caucasian’. (S)Ex. am mi swat; nen, a en blaŋku. (S)Ex. mi no wɛl bukra; wɛl i swat. (S)Ex. mi ka ki en bʌkra lo lo amole da. bli1 (M., D.) also blif (S.) ‘glad, please(d)’. Ex. dʌ helɛ lan a wes bli fo ki am mi ši frou. (S)Ex. lista mi paso a ju blif. {Let me pass if you please.} bli2 (D., G., S.), blief (M.)‘remain, be’. (S)Ex. sik ko ʌbo kabai rɛge; bli en tit fo lo. Ex. na wa ju blief? 242 appendix three blin (D.) also blɛn (D., S.), blain (N.) ‘blind’. Ex. di dri fa zinʌ mi blin, sini ki de en hogo. (S)Ex. {They} mi blɛn. bok (D.) also bɛn (S.) ‘bend, bent’. Ex. wɛni am a rak, ham a bok fo driŋ. (S)Ex. ki di kabrita mi di hou bɛn han. bom (O., D., N., G., V., S.), boem (P.) ‘tree, plant’. Occurs in the compounds aplbom ‘apple tree’ (D., S.), basabom (S.) ‘wild pinapple (lit. bastard tree), bonči bom ‘pidgin peas tree’, maŋgobom ‘mango tree’, mʌmai bom ‘mammy apple tree’, pʌpai bom ‘papaya tree’, sizaka bom ‘soursap tree’ (S.), tamríndbom ‘tamarind tree’, and plimbom ‘plum tree’ (D.) (S)Ex. bom {is tree}. Ex. pad mi long, geambo drog na sji boem. bomba (O., D., V.) also bumba (D.), bas (D., N.) ‘an enslaved supervisor of a work gang chosen for the respect that he commanded from his peers’. Nelson asks whether bas was also used for ‘preacher’. Ex. di mɛskɛnɛ manda frufru am a rup di bumba, . . . Ex. so dʌ man ha se: nen bas, mi sa edʌr ju sla mi, nafo ju drag mi na fort. bonči (D., N., S.) also bonji (N.), bontjɛ (G.) ‘pidgin peas’. Occurs in the compound bončipudn (D.) ‘bean pudding’. (S)Ex. mi wɛl bonči sʌp mi {pidgin peas}, bonči. borika (P., V.) also burika (D.), buriko (N.), bruka (S.) ‘hinny, mule’. Carstens (1997) mentions borricher ‘mule, donkey’. Also mjul (S.) ‘mule’. Ex. ju no sa ha sin ju naeste sie wif, sie meissie, sie os, sie borika en na niet een gut, die bin van him Ex. dan di kiniŋ a sti noli mɛ en burika fo ko rapo di batita wa sinu a {dig} di dak. (S)Ex. am a se sen ha bruka. (S)Ex. mi lo sal di mjul fo lo a tapus. botu (D.) also bʌtu (S.), botʌ (D., G.), botʌr (N.), botter (M., G.) ‘butter’. Ex. . . . a se, am lo lo ma en ǰinǰambukuki mi en pan mi botu fo am dra fo ši grani. (S)Ex. mi no wɛl brot mi bʌtu. Ex. hueso die no hab botter en radies. brambi (P., D., S.) also branmier (M.) ‘(fire) ant’. (S)Ex. mi am fikiti am; mi du ʌbɛni brambi nɛs. Ex. branmier val na malassie, da sut hem ha vind. bre (D., G., S.) also brek (P., D.) ‘break’. (S)Ex. bre hopʌ di eju. Ex. wen ši ta a ki sɛnʌ lo ko, am a fal a gron, am a brek ši nɛk. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 243 brot (D., N., G., S.) also brod (M., P.) ‘bread’. Occurs in the compound brotkrom (D.) ‘breadcrumb’. (S)Ex. mi no wɛl brot mi bʌtu. Ex. een man dodt een ander man brod. bru (D., V., S.) also bruer (M.), buči (D., N., S.), butji (D., G.), bju (D.) in trickster speech ‘brother’. Occurs in the compound skonbutji ‘brother- in-law’. Ex. wɛni am ka du fɛrgi abini di obn, wɛni bru fɛrgi a se am: bju, jai tan jaja. Ex. kom bruer! (S)Ex. am a rup ši buči fo ko hɛlp am fo mata di kui. Ex. di kiniŋ mi fadʌ jusiʌs a wes twe butji. Ex. . . . a sɛ a fɛrgi; bju, jai tan jaja. bufɛt, kas (D.) ‘cupboard, vat’, the latter is related to kaši (D., N., V., S.) ‘chest, box’. Ex. am a ha kas mi rezʌ a ka du bini ši bufɛt. Ex. wani am a lo a di kas hopo di, na ha en steki kas, brot, rɛzʌ. . . . bwa (D.) also bewaer (M.) ‘put away’. Mrs. Stevens used du abobo ‘put up’. Ex. am a lo {straight} mi di a fa am egʌn hus lo bwa di. Ex. bewaer die tee-gut sender.

čɛkɛ (D., V) also jekke, chekke (P.), sčicke (O.) ‘guinea hen’. Ex. wanneer jekke sji flegon ha breek, dan him suk fo how geselskap mit hundu. Ex. wanneer chekke sie flegon ha breek, him suk fo how geselskap mit hundu. da1 (D., S.) also dat (D.) ‘that’ (deictic and complementizer). Occurs in the compound dida which de Jong (1926) identifies as emphatic.3 (S)Ex. wa da be? Ex. ham a du dʌ menši bini di hus ondʌ gron fo won, dat enten man nʌ kan lo ape am be. da2 (D., S.) also ta (D.), dɛ(r) (N., S.) ‘there’. (S)Ex. mi a se, mi bin da abɛnɛ mi bɛri, {now}. Ex. am a ne am, lo de a hus me am, lo fɛl am ta fo am jɛt. (S)Ex. mi a ne en guŋgu en, lɛkʌ ju sak dɛ. (S)Ex. wun abobo dɛr fam dɛn {until} nu.

3 De Jong (1926) also identifies /da/ as a progressive particle. This is probably a Virgin Islands English Creole intrusion. 244 appendix three da(k) (D., V., S.) also dag (D., G., S.) ‘day’. Occurs in the compound dagbrek (D.) ‘daybreak’, dʌsandʌda(k) (D.) ‘the following day’, and in the days of the week. (See sʌnda, manda, disinda, wunsda,dʌndʌda, frida, satʌda (S.), mandag, mandak, disʌndag, disʌndak, unsdag, unsdak, dondʌdag, dondʌdak, fridag, fridak, stʌdag, stʌdak, sondag, sondak [D.].) (S)Ex. sen lo bran di en dak. sen lo bran di en dag. di mi frʌt. dan1 (P., D., G., S.) also da(m) (D.), dɛn (D., S.) ‘then’. (S)Ex. dan ju drai di, ju drai di, ju drai di, en ju drai di. Ex. puši a dis hal di do tu, da fat di twe fa sini, mata sini rɛitaf. Ex. dam am fo sla kuri wɛran. (S)Ex. dɛn mi a ko {here}; ko {here St. Thomas} a mi mui. dan2 (D., G.) also a (D.) ‘than’. Ex. bot bru kabritabok a ha bitji me pluck dan bru {lion}. Ex. ši ben a wes me grot me a enʌstʌ man ben. daŋki (D., N., V., S.) also daŋk (G.), danki (D.), dank (P.), ‘thank (you)’. (S)Ex. {not} danki, daŋki. Ex. dank, mi be fraj? darm (D., G.) also dɛrʌm (D.), detum (N.) ‘intestine’. Ex. . . . alma di tit am wet, tɛkoma bi nabini di kui darm. Ex. . . . lista tɛkoma mi en kwati mi di dɛrʌm mi di kop. den (D., N.) also dansko (N.) ‘Dane’. Ex. wani ons a ha di den, di plantai sini, di mestʌ fa sini ha ha sukuwɛrʌk, mula suku. dɛbil (S.) also dibʌl (D., G.), dibl (N.) ‘devil’. Occurs in the compounds twekopdibʌl ‘two-headed devil’, fikopdibʌl ‘four-head devil’,4 and seskopdibʌl ‘six’headed devil’ (D.). (S)Ex. di dɛbil. Ex. ham a fin en dibʌl. dɛsbi (D., V.) ‘near’, also kan (D.) ‘near, against’. Ex. bru kabrita kuri en andu {distance} wɛran, bli da stan weran lo wak bo bru hon te bru hon ka kri dɛsbi a am. Ex. am a ko kan fo ki wa di be. dʌndʌda (S.) also dondɛrda (N.), dondʌdak, dondʌdag (D.) ‘Thursday’. (S)Ex. ju se sʌnda, manda, disinda, wunsda, dʌndʌda, frida, satʌda. Ex. mandag, mandak, disʌndag, disʌndak, unsdag, unsdak, dondʌdag, dondʌdak, fridag, fridak, stʌdag, stʌdak, sondag, sondak.

4 Valls, apparently accepting de Jong (1926), translates this as ‘five headed devil’. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 245 di1 (P., D., N., G., S.) also i (D., S.), die (O., P., G.), dɛ (P., D., S.), dʌ (N., G., S.) ‘definite article’. (S)Ex. ju a ne en, ne {up} di andu wa bin de a gron. (S)Ex. mi no wɛl bukra, wɛl i swat. Ex. huso ju be die frufru? (S)Ex. lo ʌndo en bom, dɛ regun ko. (S)Ex. sen sɛt ʌbɛni dʌ manskin ɛn sen spɛl. di2 (D., S.) also i (D.), dɛ (N.), da (M., O., D., P.) ‘it’. (S)Ex. wa di be? Ex. so ju ful durst, driŋ i. Ex. ɛn tid da ha en noli. diŋ (D., S.) also diŋk (D., S.), denk (O., G.), dink (D.), ‘think’. Occurs in diŋko (D., N.) ‘remember, think (about)’. (S)Ex. wa ju lo diŋ bo? (S)Ex. sen a diŋk so, [yeah]. Ex. ons a wes so glos dink, di fulʌk sini a lo briŋ di ton mil mi di ton faria. . . . disinda (S.) also disɛnda (N.), disʌndag, disʌndak (D.) ‘Tuesday’. (S)Ex. ju se sʌnda, manda, disinda, wunsda, dʌndʌda, frida, satʌda. Ex. mandag, mandak, disʌndag, disʌndak, unsdag, unsdak, dondʌdag, dondʌdak, fridag, fridak, stʌdag, stʌdak, sondag, sondak. dit (G.) also diso (D., G.) ‘this, this one, these’. Ex. nen, mama, mi na ka jit alma fa dit jit, mi ka jit en stɛki. Ex. den pusbergí a se: diso a fa mi. do (D., S.) also dor (O., P., D., N., G.), deer (M.) ‘door’. (S)Ex. a astu di do. Ex. di grani a se: hal dʌ tou a di dor, di dor sa hopo. Ex. hogo no hab deer. doktu (D., S.) also dokto (N.), dʌktu (S.) ‘doctor’. Occurs in the compound daktaduldul (D.) ‘plant used to investigate theft’. (S)Ex. gɛstu mi a wɛs a di doktu. (S)Ex. ju ho: lo a di dʌktu mi di. domni (D., N.) also domne (D.) ‘clergyman, priest’. Occurs in the compound domnehus (D.) ‘rectory, parsonage’. Ex. dʌ domne wa a dop mi si nam a {Mr.} wit, domni fa hɛrnhut. dos (D., V.) also dorst (O.), durst (D.) ‘thirst, thirsty’. Ex. ham a wes dos. Ex. so ju ful durst, driŋ i. 246 appendix three dot (P., D., G., S.), dod (O., N., G.) ‘die, dead, corpse’. Occurs in the compound dothus (D., G.) ‘coffin’. Valls gives kaduk ‘die’, no doubt from ka dot ‘dead’. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ mɛ hal senu fo ʌbene sen {hole}, mi te dʌ sten o di stʌk an mi sla am, sla am, sla am, te an dot. dra (D., N., G., S.) also drak (D.), drag (P., D., N., G.) ‘carry, bring, bear, take away’; brin, briŋ (D.) also brɛng (G.) ‘bring’. (S)Ex. mi dra di noli abɛne di pat. Ex. as am no kan drak am fo gi am fo lista am kri bitji oka. Ex. am a faŋ am, drag am a hus, lo gi ši ma fo mata ǰak fo am jet. Ex. sa am a brin ši stɛm me sok. Ex. am a se: wa ka briŋ ju hi? drai (D., G., S.) also draʌɛj (G.), tan (D.) in trickster speech ‘change, become, turn’. Occurs in the lexicalized serial verb construction drai ko ‘return’. (S)Ex. dan ju drai di, ju drai di, ju drai di, en ju drai di. dri (M., P., D., N., G., S.) also tri (N.) ‘three’. The root also occurs in derde (P.), dridʌ (D.) ‘third’, dɛrtin (N.), dɛrtin (D.) ‘thirteen’, driɛntwintik (D.) ‘twenty three’, derti, trɛtik (N.), dɛrtik (D., N.), ‘thirty’, drimal (D.) ‘thrice’. (S)Ex. en, twe, dri, fi, fɛv, sɛs, sɛwun, akt, negun, tin, alif, twalif. driŋ (D., G., S.) also drin (D.), driŋk (D., N., M.) driŋg (D.), ‘drink’. (S)Ex. mi driŋ di. Ex. am a drin ši big ful. Ex. akt i di duŋku som fa di man-sini sini a ka roto driŋk fa di sopi. Ex. sini maŋke watʌ fo driŋg. drok (D., S.) also drog (P., G.) ‘dry’. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ sen drok, mi ne {dem}. Ex. pad mi long, geambo drog na sji boem. drom (D., G., V.) also drum (P.) ‘dream’. Ex. adinja a drom am. Ex. ju ka drum enista fraj? druŋ1 (D.) also draun (N.) ‘drown’ Ex. a da sinu a bli ka druŋ. druŋ2 (D., N.) also druŋk (D., G.) ‘drunk’. Occurs in the compound stokdruŋ. (D.) ‘very drunk’. Ex. am da sinu a bli ka druŋ. Ex. sini a wɛs druŋk, ka lɛi mɛl i flu, bot di finjol lo flig alen. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 247 duku (D., N., G., S.) also dugu (D.) ‘cloth, clothing’. (S)Ex. mi a ha en menši, . . . mi frɛn, di regun mi di wɛn a ste ši duku fam bo ši lif liste am nakun, nakun, nakun, nakun. Ex. di kiniŋ ha drai twe fa ši man lo briŋ dugu fo am. duŋku (D., N., V., S.) also dunko (P.), donker (M.) ‘evening, night, darkness. Occurs in the compound fanaduŋku (D.), fanduku (V.) ‘this evening, tonight’. (S)Ex. mi lo abit fandʌ duŋku. Ex. huso ju slaap dunko? Ex. sellie ha slaep die heel donker. egʌn, ɛgʌn (D.) also egon (N.), eigen (P.) ‘own’. Occurs as a root in eigenaer (P.) also eigʌna (D.), ɛigʌnɛ (G.) ‘owner’. Ex. am a lo {straight} mi di a fa am egʌn hus lo bwa di. Ex. am a lo lo abini di kui lo suk fo fa am ɛgʌn. Ex. blau diffie seg: wen regen caba, mi sal bau mi eigen hus. eju (N., S.) also eju (P., G.) ‘egg’. Occurs as inflected plural ɛiɛr (D.) and in the compound ejerstryf (M., G.) ‘scrambled eggs’. (S)Ex. bre hopʌ di eju. Ex. hundu seg: mi kan sweer for mi eju, ma no fo mi kikinsji. ɛkɛ (G., S.), also ɛke (S.), eke (D., S.), ɛkkɛ, ɛgɛ (G.), ege (D.)(G.) ‘each, every’. Occurs in the compounds ekegut (D., S.), ɛkegut (S.) ɛkɛgut (D.), ‘everything’ and ekeren, ekerɛn, ɛkɛrɛn, ɛlken (D.) ‘every one’. (S)Ex. ɛkɛ frufru, mi ne di kabrita sinu fʌ jit abɛni {the grass piece}. (S)Ex. ɛke satida. (S)Ex. eke dak, am a lo fo ki a di jamʌs lo guri. Ex. ege gut am fin am mata te am a rak a ši pupa. ɛlɛf (N.) also ɛlʌf (D.), alif, alʌf, (S.) ‘eleven’. Occurs in the ordinal number ɛlʌfdʌ (D.) ‘eleventh’. Ex. en, twe, dri, fi, fɛif, sɛs, sɛwun, ak, nɛgʌn, tin ɛlʌf, twalʌf. . . . (S)Ex. en, twe, dri, fi, fɛiv, sɛs, sivun, akt, negun, tin, alif, twalif. (S)Ex. sɛwun, ak, negun, tin, alʌf, twalʌf. ɛntɛn (N.) also ɛnten, ɛntin, inten (S.), enten (D., S.), entɛn (G.), intin (D.), ‘none, nothing’. De Jong (1926) derives it from Danish ingenting ‘nothing’. Occurs in the compounds ɛntingut, ɛntengut, intingut (S.) entengut (D., S.), entɛngut (G., S.), ɛntɛngut (D., S.) ‘anything’. (S)Ex. mi no ki ɛntin; mi noit a ki ɛnten weran. (S)Ex. inten. (S)Ex. mi no lo lo enten plɛ. Ex. am a ki intin fulok. 248 appendix three en (O., P., D., N., G., S.) also ɛn (D., N., S.), ene (P.) in (D., S.) ‘one, indefinite article’. Occurs in the compounds ekeren, ekerɛn, ɛkɛrɛn, ɛlken (D.) ‘every one’; enandu (D., S.), ɛnandu, anandu (S.) ‘another’; and emal (O., D.), enmaɛl (G.) ‘once’. Also occurs in the numbers en ɛn dɛrtik (D.) ‘thirty one’, ɛhondut (D.), ɛn hundɛrt (N.) ‘one hundred’, ɛn mɛ twɛnti ‘twenty one’, ɛnskɛling, ‘twenty’, ɛnskɛling ɛn ɛn (N.) ‘twenty one’. (S)Ex. an en ro frau. (S)Ex. ju du ɛn stɛk {lard} abɛni di. Ex. mi sal ha stof fleis mit bateta en dan ene kominsje te. (S)Ex. in, twe, dri. enesta, enestʌ, ɛnɛstu, ɛnɛstʌ, enʌstʌ (D.), enista (P.), ɛnistʌ (G.) ‘any’. Graves gives entengut ‘anything’ which Mrs. Stevens translated as ‘nothing’. Occurs in the compound eneple ‘any place’ (S.). Ex. ju kan fin dʌ watumɛlan enesta pat. Ex. ta enestʌ man rup am so, am sa mata sinʌ dot. Ex. wɛni ɛnɛstu gut ka du am, ju nu kan krig am fo prat. Ex. so am nu fo se ɛnɛstʌ fuluk, di twe fan sinu dan fo fɛgɛtɛ fo kri abit. Ex. ši ben a wes me grot me a enʌstʌ man ben. Ex. ju ka drum enista fraj? estu, erstʌ (D.) also erste (P.) ‘first’. Ex. huso di kin nam? estu begin. Ex. di erstʌ en ha se: gi mi di hogo. Ex. Een, erste; twee, tweede; drie, derde; tien; twentig; dysend.

ʌnte (S.) also te (P., D., S.), te (P.) ‘until’. Goodman (1987) suggests both Portuguese (a)té and English (un)til as etyma. (S)Ex. an a du so ʌnte an no a wit wa fo se weran. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ mɛ hal senu fo ʌbene sen {hole}, mi te dʌ sten o di stʌk an mi sla am, sla am, sla am, te an dot. Ex. Die pampun no ka rip nungal te die manskin ful. fa1 (D., G., S.) also fam (D., V., S.), fan (D., N., S.), fo (P., D., G., S.), for (M., P., D., G.), voor (M., O., G., V.), fu (P., D., G.), fʌ, fʌm, fi (S.) ‘for, from, of, at, because’. Occurs in possessive constructions with nouns and pronouns and to introduce infinitival complements (D., S.). Occurs in the compounds fodima (D., G.), foditma, foma (D., G.), fordimak (P.), fodɛtma (D., G.), vordɛtmak (G.) ‘because’ and the formula en fa bo en tid ‘once upon a time’. (S)Ex. a fa ju hogo, no- noit a fa mi hogo, a fa ju hogo. (S)Ex. sen ko abo dʌ sten, an wɛnʌ ju lo a di ze, ju pɛk sɛnu fam bo di stin. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 249

(S)Ex. hoso di hundu a kri fan bini di kubu? (S)Ex. wɛnɛ mɛ hal senu fo ʌbene sen {hole}, mi te dʌ sten o di stʌk an mi sla am, sla am, sla am, te an dot. Ex. hundu seg: mi kan sweer for mi eju, ma no fo mi kikinsji. Ex. wat die hab voor vrukost? Ex. ham a sɛ an sa du suwe frai fu ši fulʌk sɛndr. (S)Ex. an ha fʌ lo a tapus a di haspitl. (S)Ex. mi a wun fa fʌm sɛnu, fan di skol. (S)Ex. wa mi maŋke fi kop? fa2 (S.) also fɛ (D.), fɛr (D.) ‘far’. Occurs in the compound fawe (D.) ‘far away’. (S)Ex. mi a wun fa fʌm sɛnu, fan di skol. Ex. am na wes tu fɛ fa di hus. Ex. di ha ɛn lɛ ni mi fɛr we fa ons. fanda (D., G., V., S.) also fandu, fandʌ (S.), fandɛ (N.), van dag (M.) ‘today’. (S)Ex. ju lo strik fanda? {You going to iron today?} (S)Ex. mi lo abit fandʌ duŋku. Ex. wat mae ju slaep so laet van dag? fanja (D., V., S.) also faria (D.), farnja (N.) ‘corn meal’. De Jong (1926) associates this with Portuguese farinha. (S)Ex. ma ju mil mi ju fanja maŋkandu. Ex. . . . . di fulʌk sini a lo briŋ di ton mil mi di ton faria fo ko gi ons fo susu. faŋ (P., D., G., N., S.) also fang (G.), vang (O.) ‘catch’. Nelson’s consultant(s) gloss this as ‘take’. Also fat (D.) ‘catch, grasp’. (S)Ex. mi a faŋ am ʌbni di {trap}. Ex. een vinger no kan vang loes. Ex. puši a dis hal di do tu, da fat di twe fa sini, mata sini rɛitaf. fɛif (D.) also fɛiv, fɛv (N., S.) ‘five’. Occurs in the compounds fɛiftin (D.), fɛvtin (N.) ‘fifteen’, fɛifɛntwintik (D.) ‘twenty five’, in the numerals fɛiftik (D.), fɛvtik, fifti (N.) ‘fifty’, and in the ordinal number fɛifdʌ ‘fifth’ (D.). De Jong gives fifti as an English form. Ex. en, twe, dri, fi, fɛif, sɛs, sivun, ak, nɛgʌn, tin ʌlʌf, twalʌf. (S)Ex. en, twe, dri, fi, fɛiv, sɛs, sɛwun, akt, negun, tin, alif, twalif. (S)Ex. mi lo gi ju fɛv patʌkon nu. fɛrki, fɛrgi, (D., S.) also fɛrɛkɛ (S. from Sprauve 1986), fɛriki (S.) fɛrkɛ (N.), farki (P., G.) ‘pig’. Occurs in the compounds befɛrgi ‘boar’, ferkikin ‘piglet’, and sikfergi ‘sow’ (D.). Nelson’s consultant(s) gloss pig as ‘piglet’. (S)Ex. fuluk kop senu and sen ha senu a se hus ʌbɛne en fɛrki pɛn. (S)Ex. ju matʌ di fɛrgi. 250 appendix three

(S)Ex. mi no jɛt fɛriki. Ex. die farki bin na cot. fɛs (P., D., N., G., V., S.) also fis (D.), fiši (S.), vis (M.) ‘fish’. (S)Ex. alma kin fiši, fɛs. alma kɛn fɛs ju ha. Ex. sini ha dri o fi klen fik ɛn wani sini faŋ twe fis,5 sini na kan kri di frʌko foma dʌ fulʌk sini na ha stibo fo kop di. Ex. en as die neeger ka breng vis, lastaen sender stoof die groote, en bak die klein sender. fi (D., N., S.) also fir (D.), vier (M., O.) ‘four’. Occurs in the numbers fɛtin, fitin (N.), vɛrtin (D.) ‘fourteen’, fɛrtik (D.), fertik (N.) ‘forty’, fiɛntwintik (D.) ‘twenty four’, forskɛliŋ (N.) ‘eighty’, and the ordinal number fidʌ (D.). (S)Ex. en, twe, dri, fi, fɛiv, sɛs, sivun, akt, negun, tin, alif, twalif. Ex. dan di fir fa zinʌ ha {start}. Ex. hont hab vier vut, no kan loop twe pat. fik, fig (D.), also veeg (M.), sik6 (S.) ‘sweep, wipe, brush’. Nelson’s consultant(s) give fɛk ‘clean’. Ex. am ha du am bini dʌ tɛmpl fo fik di. Ex. am a fig ši gʌsi. Ex. veeg ju mont. (S)Ex. lo sik di tabl. fikiti (D., V., S.) also figiti (D., S.), figite (D.), fikɛte (S.), fɛgɛtɛ (D., N.), fɛkɛte (N.) ‘fight’. (S)Ex. mi am fikiti am; mi du ʌbɛni brambi nɛs. Ex. den am a kan figiti mi ši baŋgla. Ex. sini se, sini a figite mi di dibʌl, sini ka mata am. (S)Ex. ju noit fʌ fikɛte. Ex. dan am ha fo bli amole da te am ka fɛgɛtɛ fo kri abit weran. filis, fɛlis (S.) also flɛs (P., D., S.), fles (D., S.), flɛis (P., D.), vlies (M., G.), flois. (N.), ‘meat, flesh’. (S)Ex. ju du di filis ʌbɛnɛ dʌ pan. (S)Ex. mi kli mɛluk; mi a jet ši fɛlis. (S)Ex. flɛs. (S)Ex. sen du sʌut abɛnɛ di fles.

5 Mrs. Stevens also corrected [fis] to [fɛs]. 6 [f] and [s] may alternate more generally: Magens gives disiɛ ‘pigeon’; Negerhollands has difi ‘dove’. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 251

Ex. wani alma i tit am a lo lo mi si duksak mi flɛis, am a ba lo fluk {rabbit} fo goudif. Ex. gief sout vlies en harten boontje. fin (D., G., S.) also fen (D.), fɛn (P., D., N., S.), vind (M.) ‘find’. (S)Ex. mi a fin am ʌbɛnʌ mi man ši hus. Ex. ham a fen di ka lo bini en dip gat. (S)Ex. lo a di graspis. ju sa fɛn sɛnu da. Ex. branmier val na malasie, da sut hem ha vind. fiŋgu (D., S.) also fiŋgʌ (N.), finger (P.), vinger (O.) ‘finger’. Occurs in the compound fingunal (S.) ‘finger nail’. (S)Ex. ju fiŋgu senu. Ex. een finger no kan fang lus. Ex. een vinger no kan faŋ loes. flegon (P.) also flɛg(ʌ)n (D.) ‘wing’. Ex. wanneer jekke sji flegon ha breek, dan him suk fo how geselskap mit hundu. Ex. ham a skɛ en fa di flɛgʌn. Ex. dʌ sapata ha twe flɛgn. flik (S.) also flig (D., G.), vlieg (O., G.) ‘fly’ (v.). Nelson’s consultant(s) provide flɛk (N.) ‘flown’. Also serves as the root in fligi ‘fly, the insect’. (S)Ex. flik ju lo flik. Ex. wɛni am a prat, gout flig it fan ši mon. Ex. As kukkubak vlieg, hem weet na welk boom hem sa vlieg. flo (S.) also flu (D., G.) ‘floor’. (S)Ex. di kin a goi di abo di grʌn, a di flo, abɛni di hus. Ex. sini a wɛs druŋk, ka lɛi mɛl i flu, bot di finjol lo flig alen. flut27 (D.) also flet (G.) ‘whistle: flute’. Ex. am a se am, am kan ǰis lin am di flut, lista am ne en klen blas. foget, fruget (D.) ‘forget’. Also frogit (N.) ‘forgotten’. Ex. . . . am a se am, ja, am nu fo lista ši ma nit en fulok fo kis am fodima am ka foget ekegut wa ka {happen} tɛsʌn di twe fan sinu. Ex. am a ka fruget, ši muma a se am ne prat mi enten fulok a pat. fol (P.) also ful (D., N., S.) ‘fill, full’. Ex. die how cirj bin fol, en sal gaw ha calluf. (S)Ex. sen a ful di batl. . . . folok (D., N.) also foluk (P., D.), folʌk (D., G.), fulok (D., G.), fuluk (D., S.), fulʌk (D., S.), fʌluk (S.), folk (D.), volk (M., O., G.) ‘people, a person’. Also

7 Also flute (D.); however, /flute/ is an unlikely form. 252 appendix three

found in the compound entenfulok (D.) ‘anybody’. Graves (1977) gives mɛns ‘person’. Ex. am a lo wandu obra obra fo lo se di folok sinu, kiniŋ ka sti am fo se di folok sinu: fekan lo ko. Ex. ɛkɛ foluk am fin, am se, wɛnʌ di kiniŋ fra am fa widi dʌ plɛ hotu, fo se, mestʌr fan dʌ kɛrʌbi. Ex. am a ne ši folʌk sɛnʌ mi di menši. Ex. am a ki intin fulok. (S)Ex. fuluk kop senu an sen ha senu a se hus ʌbɛni en fɛrki pɛn. (S)Ex. di ha atufe fulʌk. (S)Ex. andu fʌluk ko. Ex. ɛnɛstʌ folk wɛni sini ka dot, sin ges sini lo wapi sini ha famili fo lo gi sini {notice} sini kan lo. Ex. pikhout bejer bin guet for maek volk gief over. fo(r)fluk (D., G.) ‘sly’. Ex. jin juŋ menši mi frai fofluk an ons hou man ha fo bi muši patikla. Ex. En hou kiniŋ ham a wes forfluk. folo (D., G.) also vɛrlor (G.) ‘lose’. Ex. wɛni sini tɛtɛ di kin, ši ma ka folo ši kin. forok (N.) also foruk, fɛruk (S.) ‘fork’. (S)Ex. {di fork is} foruk . (S)Ex. ju fɛruk {is you fork}. (for)tɛl (D.) ‘count’. Ex. . . . astu am a kri bo ši {journey} en {distance} af, am a fin it mɛ ɛn sɛt fan rabu lo fortɛl stibu. Ex. am sa fin di {lion} sinu da ondu en grot tamrindbom ɛn am fo tɛl sinu fan en {to} tin. fosiku, fosikʌl, fosikl (D.) ‘powerful’. Ex. . . . di plɛ a wɛs fosiku lɛlik ɛn di man da a kap it di plɛ sondu am krou. Ex. ma ɛn fosikʌl pistakʌl. Ex. a ha en fosikl dans. fosto (D.) also fostan (N.) ‘understand’. Ex . . . wɛni di kiniŋ ka fosto di, am a frag am, hoso am ka ko mi ši dri kin nam. fra (D., G., S.) also, frak (S.), frag (D., G.), vraeg (M.) ‘ask’. (S)Ex. am a fra mi as mi lo dil mi senu. (S)Ex. en frau a ko frak am a ha enten apl fo fruko. Ex. wanʌ mi a drai, am a frag mi, ape mi ka kom it mit di kabai nu. Ex. mama ha seg, dat tata ka vraeg vreemed volk for kom jeet hieso. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 253 frai (M., P., D., N., G., S.) also guet (M.) ‘good’. (S)Ex. lo frai; got segun ju. Ex. ja, nu die bin guet. frakot (D.) also rok (G.) ‘dress coat’. Ex. am a se, ekeren fa di manroto sini fo ha sɛ frakot an. frau (N., S.) also frou (D., G., S.), frʌu (S.), frolum (N.), fru (D.), vrouw (G.), vrou (M., P.) ‘woman, wife’. Occurs in the compound frouple (D., G.) ‘vulva’. (S)Ex. an a en ro frau. (S)Ex. di frou a, a mata di man? (S)Ex. di frʌu a ha muči kin. Ex. di hou fru no a kan prat fodima am a ka dot. Ex. hueso ju vrou vaer? frɛf, frif (D.) ‘scratch, rub’. Ex. am a ne kiambo, frɛf di kotles. Ex. wɛni am kri di pit me a halʌf fan dʌ watu, dʌ hou frou fo ne driŋkfrai fo du am abini ši lap fo frif ši kop. frɛn (D., G., S.) also frɛnd (N.), frin (D.), vriɛnt (G.) ‘friend’. (S)Ex. mi a ha en menši, . . . mi frɛn, di regun mi di wɛn a ste ši duku fam bo ši lif, liste am nakun, nakun, nakun, nakun. Ex. wɛni dʌ difman a ko, ham a ko suk fo skon di mɛs fo am mi ši frin difman jit. fri (D.) also fristu (D., N.) ‘court, sweetheart’. Ex. di a ha en juŋ a lo fri dʌ menši. Ex. di juŋ man a du fristu a di menši fo trou. frida (D., N., S.) also fridag, fridak (D.) ‘Friday’. (S)Ex. ju se sʌnda, manda, disinda, wunsda, dʌndʌda, frida, satʌda. Ex. mandag, mandak, disʌndag, disʌndak, unsdag, unsdak, dondʌdag, dondʌdak, fridag, fridak, stʌdag, stʌdak, sondag, sondak. friŋ (D.) also riŋ (S.) ‘wring (out)’. Ex. friŋ dʌ {bull} stɛt; ma dʌ {bull} wɛrʌk! (S)Ex. dɛn mi a riŋ senu an mi haŋ senu abiti. froko (D., S.) also floko (N.), fruko (D., V., S.), frʌko (D.), fruku, frukɛ, frukʌ, fwuko (S.) ‘sell’. (S)Ex. froko? {That’s sell.} (S)Ex. en frau a ko frak am a ha enten apl fo fruko. Ex. sini ha dri o fi klen fik ɛn wani sini faŋ twe fis, sini na kan kri di frʌko foma dʌ fulʌk sini na ha stibo fo kop di. (S)Ex. mi a jit am; mi a fruku {too}. 254 appendix three

(S)Ex. no frukɛ di. (S)Ex. mi maŋke dri pʌn; hoso ju frukʌ di? (S)Ex. sen lo fwuko fanja dri sɛn en {a pound}. fru (D., N.) also vru(vrue) (M.) ‘early’, frufru (P., D., N., G., S.) ‘morning’. Pontopidian and Nelson’s consultant(s) translate the root and the reduplicated form as variants. The root also occurs in frufruko (D.) ‘market’, frukʌs (S.), frokos (D.), frokost (N.), frukost (P.), vrukost (M., G.) ‘breakfast’. Ex. am fo wakʌ fru morʌk frufru. Ex. da beeter ons le rie morg vruvrue? (S)Ex. ɛke frufru {every morning}, eke frufru, di kabrita sinu fʌ jit abɛni {the grass piece}. funǰi (N., S.) also funchi (P., G.) also funtji (D., V.) ‘cornmeal mush’. (S)Ex. ju kuk ju fɛs mi ju funǰi mi ju kjambo. Ex. . . . wen mi no kan ha ander, mi jeet sowed gut mit funchi. futu (D., N., S.) also fut (D.), vut (M.), voet (O.) ‘foot extends from sole of foot to knee’. Occurs in the compound rosfut (D., V.) ‘elephantitis’. (S)Ex. spoidʌ ha muči futu. Ex. di skun nu a kan lo bini sin fut fodima di a wes atʌvel klentji fo sinu. Ex. hont hab vier vut, no kan loop twee pat. Ex. hond ha vier voet, no kan loop twee pad. galdri (D.) also gabri (N.) ‘gallery, veranda’. Ex. wani hunduhan a hopo fo flig, am na top te am a rak bo di galdri. garun (D., S.), also garʌn (N.) ‘thread’. (S)Ex. astu an šini di abit, an te di nal mi di garun, an a du di maŋke. gat (P., D., G., S.) also hol (S.) ‘hole’. (S)Ex. klen menši mi lo kap ju gat. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ mi hal senu fo ʌbene sen hol, mi te dʌ sten o di stuk an mi sla am. . . . gau (M., N., S.) also gou (D., G.) ‘quick’. Reduplicated in gau-gau (P.) ‘very quickly’. (S)Ex. ma gau ko. Ex. dʌ man se: wɛni ju maŋke am lo gou, ju fo se am: {hurry up}. gaut (N.) also gout (M., D., G.) ‘gold’. Occurs in the compound goutriŋ (D.) ‘gold ring’. Ex. am ka klet a di sot fan mani, sinu no wet a am fodima fo am klet mi gout ɛn mɛ silk. gɛra (D., G., S.) also gera (S.) ‘quarrel’. (S)Ex. am a gɛra. (S)Ex. ons gera. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 255 gɛsɛ (D.) also gɛse, gɛsɛg, gʌsɛ (D.), gise (N.), gosɛ, guse (S.) ‘face’. Nelson’s consultant(s) gloss this as ‘cheeks’. Ex. so nu am a lo du ši han a dʌ pobitši gɛsɛ fo spel mi am. Ex. . . . am a ki en puši bo di hus lo was ši gɛse. Ex. dʌ puši a flig a ši gɛsɛg. Ex. di doktu a ris ši han, gi am en lap a ši gʌsɛ. . . . (S)Ex. abɛnɛ is in ju face—gosɛ. (S)Ex. abɛnɛ sen guse? gɛstu (G., S.) also gester (M., P.), gistu (D., N) ‘yesterday’. Nelson’s consultant(s) translates ‘day before yesterday’ as ɛl gɛstu. (S)Ex. gɛstu mi a wɛs a di doktu. Ex. mi kik die cabaj gester. Ex. bru kabritabok a sla bo ši tamarin, a se: gistu mi ka mata fifty, fanda mi ǰis ka ki dri! gʌnu (D., G., S.) also gʌnug (D.), genug (M.), gen (V.), gono (N.) ‘enough’. (S)Ex. di no a {dig deep} gʌnu. Ex. am a se: nen, noit a di sondʌg wɛrʌn, i nu me dip gʌnug in gʌhel. Ex. nogal hem hab genug for begin die weerelt,. . . . gi (D., G., S.) also gie (O.), gief (M.), giɛf (G.) ‘give’. Also occurs in symmetrical and asymmetrical benefactive serial verb constructions and as a major verb in purposive and directional serial verb constructions. (S)Ex. gi mi klen biči a di batita {stuffing}. Ex. as volk ka quaat na joe, sender gie joe makoet voor tap water. Ex. voor wat ju no ha gief hem die hou ruer? gibo (D., G., S.) also gɛborɛn (N.), kibo (S.) ‘ be born’. Occurs in the compound geborte-dag (M.) ‘birthday’. De Jong gives gʌborʌn “possibly maidenhood.” (S)Ex. an a gibo a sani kruz. (S)Ex. mi no a wit. mi no a ka kibo. gilsɛ, gilse (D.) ‘jaundice’. Ex. di fɛl fa kašu mi frai fo kuk fo gilsɛ. Ex. {worry-vine}, di mi frai fo gilse. glas (M., P., N.) also glaz (S.) ‘glass’. Ex. wat ple ju bottle bin, mi glas bin. (S)Ex. hoso di glaz a bre? glʌs (S.) also glos (D., G.), groma (D.) ‘greedy’. (S)Ex. ju mi revin; ju mi glʌs. Ex. . . . am a se: wɛl, a di glos negʌman ka mata di kui. Ex. so kalkun a se a hunduhan, am mi atʌvel groma. gliki (G.) also glik (D.) ‘resemble, equal’. Ex. . . . am mi islik, am glik andʌ folʌk. 256 appendix three glik (D.) also gluk8 (V.) ‘luck’. Ex. di hou mula a se: ju ki, di a lilik glik. glo (D.) also glof (M., D.) ‘believe, think’. Ex. di juŋ a se am: ja, as ju nu glo mi, mi sa wis ju, wapi ju ka trou en befergi. Ex. miɛ glof, hɛm hab guɛ fraɛj hou rum. gobɛt (D., S.) also gobɛd (D.) ‘prayer’. (S)Ex. an kan se ši gobɛt. gobne (D.) also guwerneer (M.), govʌne (D.) ‘governor’. Ex. di gobne a ha en bal en dag. Ex. as pover volk doot, guwerneer no hoor, as rik volk doot, guwerneer ka hoor. Ex. di govʌne a se, as am nʌ ris di, am sa kap ši kop. goi1 (P., D., G., S.) also gui (P., D.) ‘throw’. (S)Ex. di kin a goi di abo di grʌn, a di flo, abɛni di hus. Ex. am a gui si han rɛt run di menši nɛk. gorogoro (D., V., S.) also gurru-gurru (P.) ‘gargle’ (D.), ‘adams apple’ (V.), ‘throat’ (P., S.). (S)Ex. ju lo šini mi gorogoro. got (D., G., S.) also godt (P., G.) ‘God, a god’. (S)Ex. lo frai; got segun ju. Ex. mi bin die heer, ju godt, ju no sa ha niet een ander godt meer as mi. gowɛn (D.) also gɛwɛn (G.), gwɛn (D., G.) ‘(to become) accustomed to’. Ex. wɛni ju lo wandʌ, ju no fo lista ju sɛlf kɛ lis astu ju gowɛn tɛ jusɛlf fo wandʌ mi di. Ex. sini a ka gwen hou am bini fil duku. graf (D., G., N.), grav (S.) ‘bury, be buried, grave’. Also occurs in the compounds grafple (D.) and grevplek (D., V.) ‘grave place’. Ex. ham a graf di kan di do. (S)Ex. an lo grav am. grani (D., G.) also gaŋgaŋ (N.), grotma (S.), grotmuma (D.) ‘grandmother’. Ex. ši grani a wɛl am. (S)Ex. mi grotma. Ex. am a bre ši nɛk ɛn dʌ grotmuma.

8 This is printed as “guck,” but appears between glassies and glorified fungee. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 257 gron (D., G., S.) also grun (P., D.), grʌn (S.) ‘ground, earth’. (S)Ex. ju a ne en, ne {up} di andu wa bin de a gron. Ex. . . . ju lop no ju grun fo lo pɛk gɛambo ɛn {dig} batɛta. (S)Ex. di kin a goi di abo di grʌn, a di flo, abɛni di hus. grot (M., O., P., D., G., S.) also grolt (N.), guŋgu (D., V., S.) ‘big, great’. Occurs in the compounds grotkin (S.) ‘grandchild’, grotma (S.), grotmuma (D.) ‘grandmother’, grotnom (D.) ‘wise man’, gropupa (D., V.) grotpupa (D., S.), grotpʌpa (S.), grota (D.) ‘grandfather’; grosunda (N., S.), grosondag (D., V.) ‘Christmas’, in the comparative grota, grotʌ (S.), groote (M.) ‘larger’, and in the superlative groto (D.) ‘largest’. (S)Ex. an ka ko grot o an ka guŋgu. gumbe, gumbɛ (D.) ‘drum played with the fingers’. Liewil (n.d) discusses the djembe, a drum shaped like a mortar used to pound millet, which originated in the thirteenth century Mali empire. Nelson’s consultants give the general term drum. Ex. sini ha finjol, sini ha gumbe, sini ha tamrin. Ex. . . . am a sla bo ši gumbɛ wɛran, se: {yesterday I killed fifty, to-day I just see one!} guri (P., D., S.) also groei (O., G.), gruj (M., G.), and possibly kurie (P.) ‘grow’. (S)Ex. astu mi a guri dan mi a ki di. Ex. da no eenmaal volk kan sni haar, haar sal groei weeraan. Ex. gras no le gruj na sie door. Ex. man dodt, besjet kurie na sji door. gut1 (M., P., D., S.) also got (N.) ‘thing’. Occurs in the compounds ekegut (D., S.), ɛkɛgut (D.), ɛkegut (S.) ‘everything’, engut (D.) ‘one thing’, entengut (D., S.), entɛngut (G., S.) ɛntengut (S.), ɛntɛngut (D., S.), ɛntingut (S.), intingut (S.) ‘nothing’. (S)Ex. ju skim di oli, du di abɛne en gut . . . ɛn ju kʌutu, ɛn ju du di ʌbeni di batl. ha1 (D., S.) also haer (M., G.), har (N.), haar (O.) ‘hair’. (S)Ex. ju ha a ju kop. Ex. kom bind mie haer. Ex. da no eenmaal volk kan sni haar, haar sal groei weeraan. ha2 (O., P., D., N., G., S.) also hab (M.), has (N.), ga (D.) ‘have’. The verb was grammaticalized into preverbal (h)a ‘past tense marker’. It also occurs in the collocation ha fo ‘must’. (S.Ex) spoidʌ ha muči futu. Ex. mama, no wil hab salae? 258 appendix three

Ex. wɛni di kiniŋ am a se: hopo di mun fa di dibʌl kop, di na ga enten toŋ bini di. hala (D., N.) also hal (D., G., S.) ‘haul’. Ex. . . . wɛni sinu a kaba goi it alma di tramil, som fan sinu a lo bo di bai fo lo hala sin tramil bo di bai. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ mɛ hal senu fo ʌbene sen {hole}, mi te dʌ sten o di stʌk an mi sla am, sla am, sla am, te an dot. hal (D., N) also palʌ (S.) ‘hall, parlor’. Ex. wani skilpat a rak, am a wandʌ rɛk abini di grot hal. (S)Ex. mi no maŋke enten buba abɛnɛ di palʌ. haluf (D., S.) also halʌf (G.), half (M., D.) ‘half’. Occurs in the compound halfwe (D.) ‘halfway’. (S)Ex. haluf. Ex. wɛni am a rak half pat, ham a fin en wuluwuluk. hat (D., N.) also hart (P., D.), harten (M.) ‘heart’. Ex. anansi hat a ko so bran, am a ne ši stɛki kotlɛs. Ex. dan am kan jɛt, ne alma wa am maŋke, but am no fo šini ši hart. Ex. mie dank ju van harten. hau (N.) also hou (D.) ‘hoe’. Ex. di helʌ {gang} nu goi di hou a gron, lo {straight} a di pit lo suk fo watʌ fo driŋk. hautu (N.) also hʌutu (S.), houtu (D.) ‘wood’. Occurs in the compounds houtulus (D.) ‘termite’ and houtuworʌm (D.) ‘woodworm’. (S)Ex. ɛn ju lo pɛk hʌutu. Ex. . . . nu am lo du houtu bo bru fɛrgi. hewun (D., S.) also hiwun, himul, himun, (D.), hɛmʌl (N.) ‘heaven, sky’. (S)Ex. hewun. Ex. . . . am fo kri bini di sak, lista am bin am da, dan am sa fin it di pat fo lo a hiwun. Ex. . . ., api di stɛrʌk man bi lo fas di himul mi di gron fa en mi di andʌ. Ex. wani di andʌ sini a lo pase am a se: mi maŋke en kaloši ladiŋ fa stibo lo a himun. hɛlʌ (S.), also hɛl (D., N.), hɛi (D.) in trickster speech ‘hell.’ (S)Ex. an hɛlʌ. Ex. . . . sini kri ši nɛk bre, ta am lo a hɛl enmal. Ex. ananši a anturt am: wapi di hei ju ka ho kiniŋ ha negu lo sla, negu kan še a kiniŋ šo. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 259 hɛk(ʌ)n (D.) ‘gate’. Ex. wɛni bru kabrita a ho, hon a se so, am a sla kuri te wɛni am a kri a ši ɛigʌna hɛkʌn. Ex. sini a fin en hunduhan bono di farm hɛkn. hɛlɛ, hele, helɛ (D.) also hɛle, hili, hilɛ (S.), (gʌ)hel (D.), also wɛl (N.) ‘a lot, all, whole’. Reduplicated in heel-heel (M., P.) ‘completely’. Ex. . . . so dʌ ma no ka lo di hɛlɛ fa ši mant it fo briŋ ši kin wɛran hɛlɛ. Ex. . . . so tɛkoma a se: ja, di mal mi ki, ju na wɛs glos fo ne di hele, fodima ju wet, mi ha fo jɛt oka, a di twe fa ons ka wɛrʌk maŋkandu wa mi ka kri, ju ka ki, mi a pati di afo ju halʌf mi halʌf. Ex. dʌ helɛ lan a wes bli fo ki am mi ši frou. (S)Ex. am a ha hɛle. (S)Ex. mi maŋke di hili fan senu. (S)Ex. mi maŋke di hilɛ fan senu. {I want the whole of them.} Ex. . . . ta ons ko morʌk astʌmenda hel fru fo kri fo lo ki dʌ {building} da fodima di {building} da glik en moi {building}. Ex. am na ka kri fo faŋ am in gʌhel. hɛt (D., N., S.) also het (D., G.), hit (D., S.) ‘hot, heat’. (S)Ex. no hɛt watu. Ex. . . . am a bigín so ful di wɛrm en bitji het . . . (S)Ex. wɛnɛ di fi a hit, ju a nen di. . . . hi (D., G., S.) also hiɛr (G.) ‘here’. Occurs in the compound hiso (D.) ‘here’. (S)Ex. sen a wes hi, satida. satidak? ho (D., N., G., S.) also hor (M., O., D., G.), ‘hear, ear’. Occurs in the compounds hogat (S.) ‘ear hole’, (o)raŋgu (N.) ‘earrings’ and oorhanger (M.). (S)Ex. ju ho: lo a di daktu mi di. Ex. wani bru anansi nu a hor am lo gɛra. . . . hogo (D., N., G., S.) also jai (D.) in trickster speech ‘eye’. Occurs in the compounds ogokika (D., G.), hogokika (D.), hojokinu (N.) ‘eyeglasses’, hogobrai (N.) ‘eyebrow’, and hogogat (S.) ‘eye socket’. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ mi hopo mi hogo, sen a ko abɛnɛ fo kam mi {hair}. Ex. . . . am a se a fɛrgi; bju, jai tan jaja. hon (D., G.) also hont (M., D., V.), hond (O.), hun (N.), hund (P.), hʌn (S.) ‘dog’. Occurs in the compounds huŋguse (D.) ‘dogface’ and hundklut (V.) ‘dog testicle, dog almond tree’ Ex. bru hon a lo paso di kabrita . . . Ex. dʌ hont se: mi mestʌr lo lo mata mi. Ex. twee hond vekkete voor een been. 260 appendix three

Ex. mi bang ju hund. (S)Ex. ju gi di hʌn di bin. hopo (M., P., D., N., G., V., S.) also hopʌ (S.), hop (D.) ‘open, get up’. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ mi hopo mi hogo, sen a ko abɛnɛ fo kam mi {hair}. (S)Ex. bre hopʌ di eju. Ex. wɛni sinu ka lo, am hop di obʌn en am rup a di obʌn. horʌn (D.) also horn (P., N., G.), han (S.) ‘horn’. Occurs in the compound kabritahorʌn (D.) ‘goat horn’. Ex. kabritahorʌn a wɛs so laŋ, dat {rabbit} na ka kri di gron fo tu obu di horʌn. Ex. kuj sie horn nojt sa bin swar fo him drag. (S)Ex. ki di kabrita mi di hou bɛn han. hulkan (D., G., V.) also hariken (S.), huriken (N.), fɛkan (D.) ‘hurricane’. The last form may be trickster speech since it is Ananasi who speaks. Ex. ham a kri hulkan, ha fin am a pat, ha jak am bak. (S)Ex. wɛn hariken a ko ʌbo di frau, an ha fo ne ši duku. Ex. am a lo wandu obra obra fo lo se di folok sinu, kiniŋ ka sti am fo se di folok sinu: fɛkan lo ko. hundu (P., D., N., V., S.) also hunder (M.), hundi, hondu (S.) ‘fowl, hen’. Also occurs in the compounds hunduhan (D., G.) ‘cock’, hundukot (P.), hoenerkot (O.) ‘hen house’, and hundukrew (D.) ‘cockcrow’. (S)Ex. ju fʌ goi di hundu jet ʌbene di hundi hus. Ex. lastaen sender martae twee hunder. (S)Ex. mi no a ha hondu. huŋgu (D., S.) also hoŋgru (N.) ‘hunger, hungry’. (S)Ex. so an a pase, mi a hopo, mi a kuri, mi lo a hus, se, “mama, mi mi huŋgu.” hus (P., D., N., G., V., S.) also huš (D.) ‘house, home’. Also used for animal habitations. (S)Ex. mi a fin am ʌbɛnʌ mi man ši hus. Ex. ǰis lɛiki am lo du ši futu abini di huš, di a ha en ka pus ši toŋ abit fo stop di klen juŋ bak. huso (M., O. P., D., G., S.) also hoso (D., N., S.), hosɛ (N.), ho (D.), ‘how’. (S)Ex. ki huso sen kuri. (S)Ex. ki hoso sen kuri. Ex. hosɛ jo nam? Ex. sinu a fra ǰak, ho wapi am a kri alma di skap. hut (M., D., N., S.) also hot (N.) ‘hat’. (S)Ex. ju hut. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 261 huwel (D.) also huve(l) (D.), ‘how much, how many’. Ex. . . . huwel ju maŋke fo di flut da. Ex. huve pon ju maŋke? Ex. . . . am a fin huvel jet sinu a trɛ it fan ši plantai . . . i (D., S.), also yer (M.) ‘hour’. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ mi a hopo mi hogo, di a wɛ twalv i. Ex. die bin seeven yer. imatalʌ (D., G.) also imatal (D.) ‘supernatural being’. Ex. ɛn se: imatalʌ. Ex. am se: nen, mi ha en sabʌl fa en imatal, widi kan stan genz di.

ǰankol (N.) also ǰaŋkol, tania (D.) ‘tannia’. Ex. da a wɛs ananši sougut fo am jɛt mi si tania mi bata. ǰomp (D.) also ǰum(b) (D.), tschomp, tjomp (O.), lɛp (D., N.) ‘jump’. Ex. ǰomp ini di ríva lo was ju lif. Ex. am a ǰum bono am. Ex. ham a ǰumb bo ši rigi. Ex. di kabai a lɛp op op a himúl. ǰumbi (P., D., N.) also ges (D.) geest (P.), gɛs (N.) ‘ghost, spirit’. Occurs in the compounds ǰumbihus ‘haunted house’ (D.), zumbikabai (O.) ‘jumbi horse (an insect)’, ǰumbikalila (D.), ǰumbibead (D.) ‘a seed’. Ex. wewulf, ǰumbi, ges. Ex. na groot geest mak krabbo no ha kop. kabai (M., P., D., N., G., S.) also kawai (O.) ‘horse’. Occurs in the compounds rikabai (D.) ‘riding horse’ and kawaikap (O.) ‘horse head (a fish)’ (S)Ex. dʌ kabai ka sadl. kabrita (D., G., V., S.) also kabrite (O.) ‘goat’. Also found in the compounds kabritabok (D.) ‘billy goat’, kabritafel (D.) ‘goat skin’, kabritahorʌn (D.) ‘goat horn’, and kabritarotiŋ ‘a plant’. (S)Ex. ɛke frufru {every morning}, eke frufru, di kabrita sinu fʌ jit abɛni {the grass piece}. kafi (N.) also kofi (D.) ‘coffee’. Ex. tɛkoma a gi am kofi mɛ brot, am a sɛt ne, am a jɛt fo sinu lo a kiniŋ. kaka (D., S.) also koka (D.) ‘excrete, excrement’. Occurs in the compounds kuikaka (D.) ‘cow manure’; kakalaka (V.), kaklaka (S.), kakelak (M. , P.), kakkerlak (O., G.), kakerlake (O.), kakkerlaker (P.) ‘cockroach’ (literally lacquer defecator); and dromakakʌlaka (D.) ‘a large cockroach’. 262 appendix three

(S)Ex. wa mi lo kok? kaka? Ex. tɛkoma a koka abini di pot an tu di da. kakatɛs (D., V.) also kɛkɛtɛs (S.), kakatɛz (N.), kakɛtis (G.) ‘lizard’. Ex. am a fin bru kakatɛs. (S)Ex. wa mi lo du mi kɛkɛtɛs? kalabas (N., V.) also kalbas (M., D., N.), kalbasch (O.), gobi, gubi (D.) ‘calabash’. Occurs in the compound kalʌbasdarum (D.) ‘kalabash pulp’ (literally calabash guts). Valls associates gobi with Carib coui ‘half a calabash’. However, Afokpa (p.c., 6/6/1988) supplied Ewe go + vi ‘small’. Ex. . . . am a ne en fan di bitu kalbas, am a sla di astu ši rigi. . . . Ex. . . . ananši a ne en gobi, a du en gat a di, . . . . Ex. . . . am anturt dʌ gubi wɛran. kalalu (N.) also kalelu (O.) ‘gumbo made with kallaloo bush, fungi, sea food, pigtail, ham bone, and herbs’. kalfi (D., N.) also calluf (P.) ‘calf’. Ex. . . . am sa gi am en kui mɛ kalfi mɛ enhondʌrt patakon brot. . . . Ex. die how cirj bin fol, en sal gaw ha calluf. kan (M., O., P., D., N.,) also kam (D.), ka (D.) ‘can, also encodes iterative aspect’. (S)Ex. an kan se ši gobɛt. Ex. ham se, am nʌ kam diŋko. Ex. am nʌ ka ki ɛntɛn fulʌk. kano (D., N.) also kanu (D.) ‘canoe’. Nelson’s consultant(s) gloss bato ‘flat bottomed boat’ as ‘canoe’. Ex. . . . sinu sa ko mi sin kano a duŋku lo tre di batita lo fruko. Ex. dan som fan sinu a bli abini di kanu fo sla watu fo hou di fes sinu . . . kaptɛn (N.) also kapitɛin (D.) ‘captain’. Ex. am a sɛ di kapitɛin fan dʌ bot: mi nam kifrai. kapoto (D., V., S.) also kapʌto (S.), kaputu (N.) ‘frock’. (S)Ex. dan mi a du di kapoto abo mi lif. (S)Ex. paso hoso ju spil; ju lo te ju kapʌto. karbus (D.) also karpus (N.) ‘hood, bonnet, cap’. Ex. ham a gi am en ro karbus. karoči, garoči (S.) also karoši (D., V.), karosse, karoch(e) (O.), karošin, karuši (N.), kaloši (D.), ‘carriage, car, taxi’. (S)Ex. bɛnɛ di karoči. (S)Ex. abɛni di garoči. Ex. am kri ši kabai mi ši karoši alma mɛ ši skun, ekegut wa am nodi. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 263

Ex. di kabai hala di karuši. Ex. wani di andʌ sini a lo pase am a se: mi maŋke en kaloši ladiŋ fa stibo lo a himun. kʌutu (S.) also kout (D.), kot (N.) ‘cold’. (S)Ex. ju skim di oli, du di abɛne en gut . . . ɛn ju kʌutu ɛn ju du di ʌbeni di batl. Ex. . . . am ka bli ka was di pot me kout watu, . . . . ketʌl, kitl (D.) ‘kettle’. Ex. astu sinu ka sak ne, am a lo bini di ketʌl fo. Ex. so se am, wɛni am lo plant ši jamus, am fo goi sinu bini en guŋgu kitl. kɛruk (S.), also kɛrʌk (D., V.), kɛrk (D., N., G.) ‘church’. (S)Ex. mi lo lo a kɛruk. Ex. lo na kerʌk, ki jʌ nam da! Ex. frufru wani ons a kan ki, ekegut a wɛs {level}: di kɛrk mi di domnɛhus. kʌtlaš (S.) also kʌtlis (D., N.) ‘machete’. (S)Ex. ju ne ju mɛs o ju kʌtlaš ɛn ju kap di. ki (D., N., G., S.) also kik (O., P., D., G., S.), kɛ (D.) ‘see’. (S)Ex. ki sen lo frʌt. (S)Ex. ju noit ko kik am. Ex. wɛni ju lo wandʌ, ju no fo lista ju sɛlf kɛ lis astu ju gowɛn tɛ jusɛlf fo wandʌ mi di. kit (S.) also ski (D.), skit (D., S.) ‘shoot, throw away’. (S)Ex. kit. ju ka skit en fuluk. Ex. nu di kapitɛin ka ski ši bot du ši bousplit rɛt obu di kiniŋ frokostaful. kjambo (N., S.) also kiambo (S., D., V.), kingamboe (M.), geambo (P., G.), giambo, gjambo (V.), cheambo (P.) ‘okra’. Valls does not identify gjambo as a Negerhollands form. (S)Ex. . . . fɛs mi {okro} ɛn mi kjambo. (S)Ex. mi kiambo. Ex. lastaen sender kok kingamboe . . . Ex. pad mi {long}, geambo drog na sji bom. Ex. pad mi long, cheambo drog na sji boom. kikinči (D., N.) also kikkentje (M.), kikinsji (P.) ‘chick(en)’. Ex. wɛni senʌ du di a gron, di skrew liki kikinči. Ex. hunder wil sie kikkentje alteveel. Ex. hundu seg: mi kan sweer for mi eju, ma no fo mi kikinsji. 264 appendix three

kin (D., G., V., S.) also kint (M., P., G.), kɛn (N.). Occurs in the compound kiŋinkin (D.) ‘king’s child. Graves (1977) additionally gives kinders as a plural form. (S)Ex. {This} kin a di bɛs kin ši ma ha. Ex. mata mumma, du die before die kint, him sal jeet; ma mata kint, du die before mumma, him no sal jeet, him sal kris. kinin (D.) also kiniŋ (D., G.) ‘king’. Ex. wɛni drinkfrai a lo lo, di kinin sti en hou frou mɛ am. . . . Ex. no nu di kiniŋ a gi sowɛl i fo am driŋk di pit drok. . . . kizin (D., S.) also kiziŋ (S.), gizin (D.), kuzin (N.) ‘cousin’. (S)Ex. {and they} sti mi kizin fo lo suk fo mi. (S) mi kiziŋ a wun over a karʌl be. Ex. en dag ham a fra ši gizin, en difman liki am self, fu ko jit mi am. kla(r) (D.) ‘clear’. Ex. dan am a se: stan kla fo di pla. Ex. . . . sini ha saban fo klar et fo di kui mi kabai fo kri gras fo sini jet. klen (D., G., S.) also klenči (D., S), klentji (D.), klɛn (D., N., V., S.), klɛnči (S.) ‘small, little’. (S)Ex. sen klen klɛnči, klɛnči sten. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ mi a wes klenči. Ex. sinʌ a se am, am mi so klentji, wa am kan du. (S)Ex. mi suku mi- mi klɛn biči, no muči. klɛt (D.) also kleet (M.) ‘dress(d)’. Ex. . . . am a ka drai amsɛlf nu fuluk, ha amsɛlf wɛl klɛt, a ko nu a ši frou. Ex. ju meester ka kleet heel-heel? ko1 (D., G., S.) also kom (O., P., D., N., G.) ‘come’. Occurs as an imperative (Allsopp 1996) and in directional and purposive asymmetrical serial verb constructions. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ mi hopo mi hogo, sen a ko abɛnɛ fo kam mi {hair}. Ex. wɛni bru ananši a kom it, nu am a du bru fɛrgi abini. ko2 (D.) also bikom (D.) ‘become’. Ex. am ha ka ko hou. . . . Ex. am a fra bru roto: wa ka bikom fa mi gut sini mi ha abini di kas? kobo, kʌb, kubu (S.) also kubi (D.) ‘(chicken) coop’. (S)Ex. {go in the} kobo, {in the} kʌb. (S)Ex. hoso di hundu a kri fan bini di kubu? Ex. . . . so am a lai bini di kubi lo krew lek di hunduhan. kok (P., D., N., G., S.) also kuk (D., S.) ‘cook’. Occurs in koki (D.) ‘kitchen maid, cook’ and in the compound kokfles (D.) ‘cooked meat. (S)Ex. wa mi lo kok? kaka? (S)Ex. ju kuk ju fɛs mi ju fungi. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 265 kominči (S.) also komenči (N.), kominsje (P.), komintje (D.), kaninči (N.), kopjɛ (G.) ‘cup, mug, bowl’.9 (S)Ex. {bowl} is kominči. Ex. mi sal ha stof fleis mit bateta en dan ene kominsje te. Ex. goi di bini en komintji me watʌ. konobʌ, kanop (D.) ‘knot’. Ex. ham a en tou a ši han mi en grot konobʌ. Ex. pinabikbla: kuk di en goi en klen kanop sout a di, bot no driŋ di hɛt, lista i kout. krabu (D., N., V.), also krabbo (P., G.) ‘crab’. Occurs in the compound krabustikl (D.) ‘sea crab spine’. Ex. am a se: krabu mi ris. Ex. as ju no ha loop na krabbo gat, ju no sa hoor krabbo nyws. (s)krau (S.) also krou (D.) ‘scratch, scrape, sweep, wipe’. (S)Ex. ko krau mi rige. (S)Ex. ko skrau di fɛs. {Come scrape the fish.} Ex. . . . ju krou di, goi di jet a, se mi fo rapo di da fo jet. kreu, (s)krew (D.) also skreju, skrɛju, (S.), skreo (N.), ‘cry, scream’ Ex. . . . kabrita a se a bru fergi: mi lo kreu. Ex. . . . so am a lai bini di kubi lo krew lek di hunduhan. Ex. ham a skrew mi en stɛrʌk stɛm (S)Ex. sen na skreju, {so} ju no wit ape sen {be}. (S)Ex. mi skrɛju, mi a skrɛju; se a mi maŋke lo a skul. kri (D., N., G., S.) also krig (M., D.), kli (S.) ‘get’. Nelson’s consultant(s) also gloss this as ‘run’. (S)Ex. hoso di hundu a kri fan bini di kubu? Ex. . . . wɛni enestu gut ka du am, ju nu kan krig am fo prat. (S)Ex. mi kli mɛluk. mi a jet ši fɛlis. kui (M., D., N., G., S.) also cirj (P.) ‘cow, cattle’. Occurs in the compounds kuikaka (D.) ‘cow manuer’ and kuikot (D.) ‘cow pen’. (S)Ex. am a rup ši buči fo ko hɛlp am fo mata di kui. Ex. Die how cirj bin fol, en sal gaw ha calluf. kuklus, koklus (S.) also kokelus (D., V.) ‘whelk’. (S)Ex. ju no lo fin ɛnten kuklus agintu da. (S)Ex. di koklus? kuri (P., D., N., G., S.) also kurir (P.) ‘run’. (S)Ex. {three blind mice} ki huso sen kuri.

9 Mrs. Stevens distinguished between a plate used for “dry food” and a /bak/ which is used for soup and other liquids. For bowl, she used kominči. 266 appendix three lai (S.), also lɛi (D.) ‘lay’. (S)Ex. an a lai ʌbɛnɛ di boba. an wɛl di boba. Ex. am ka lɛi a lo slap mi ši twe kin. ladin, ladʌn, ladiŋ (D.) ‘load, burden’. Ex. am a ladin ši ru. Ex. so dʌ pupa a ha ši ru, ka ladʌn di. Ex. wani di andʌ sini a lo pase am a se: mi maŋke en kaloši ladiŋ fa stibo lo a himun. lak (D., N., S.) also lag (S.) ‘laugh’. (S)Ex. ju lo lak astu mi. (S)Ex. {we} prat, {we} lag. lamp (D., N., S.) also lampara (N.) ‘lamp, bulb’. Nelson adds a question mark after this form. (S)Ex. le di lamp. lan (D., S.) also lant (M., D.) ‘land’. (S)Ex. {They} a maŋke di lan fʌ plan gras. Ex. dan alma dʌ zil wa ka dot bo di lant o wa ka dot bo zewatʌ. . . . lastu (D.) also lastʌ (D.), las (D., S.) ‘last, final, latest’. Ex. so wɛni di a ko dʌ lastu dak fo sinu trou, di patpat wa am a ha fo, a kop twe parat. Ex. . . . ons bi da bini en ple wapi ons ha fo bli te di trompet fan di here ka blas a di lastʌ dak. (S)Ex. mi mi mi las šiši mi alif. le (D., S.) also lɛ (D., S.) ‘light’. (S)Ex. le di lamp. (S)Ex. du di lɛ abiti. lɛpu (N.) also lipu (S.) ‘spoon’. (S)Ex. di pʌt bin da mi di lipu. di pʌt mi di lipu, ki di da. lɛik(i) (D.) also lɛkʌ, laikʌ (S.), lik (S., D.) liki, li (D.) ‘like, as (if)’. Ex. am a kuri de di bus lɛik ɛn wilit fɛrgi. Ex. dʌ menši a ki a en man wa glik lɛiki am a wes en halʌf kiniŋ. (S)Ex. mi a ne en guŋgu en, lɛkʌ ju sak dɛ. (S)Ex. . . . laikʌ ju buči, lik ju buči. Ex. weni senʌ du di a gron, di skreew liki kikintši. Ex. dan bint si kak li wani fulʌk ka dot. lɛk (S.) also lik (D.) ‘lick’. (S)Ex. ko lɛk. Ex. ham a lik ši han. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 267 lɛkɛ (N.), also lɛkʌ (D.), lik (S.) ‘like, delicious”. Ex. ham a se: di mi lɛkʌ. (S)Ex. ju lik senu? lɛluk, lɛlʌk (S.) also lɛlik, lelʌk (D.), leeluk (P.), lilik (D.) ‘bad, evil, nasty’. (S)Ex. mi a wɛs lɛluk. (S)Ex. di nʌm a ka sla di frau lɛlʌk. Ex. dan am a bʌgin dʌ siŋ: lɛlik o frai fanaduŋku fo mi rɛzʌ. Ex. di kiniŋ a se, am ha en lelʌk prikupekop. Ex. am a wes so lilik. lif (D., S.) also le(f) (D.), lɛf (D., N.) ‘body, skin, life, live, living, alive’. Occurs in the compounds alif (S.) ‘alive’ and liftit (D.), ‘lifetime’. (S)Ex. mi a ha en menši,. . . mi frɛn, di regun mi di wɛn a ste ši duku fam bo ši lif liste am nakun, nakun, nakun, nakun. Ex. di frou a se am, am lo lo ma di le fo am. Ex. an wani am a waku, am a se: di lef ni kan graf mi di dot. Ex. dɛn di frou a se: ju ka sorʌk mi lɛf. limunči (N.) also lʌmunči (S.) ‘lime’. (S)Ex. lʌmunči. lin, len (D.) ‘borrow, lend’. Ex. . . . am a se am, am kan ǰis lin am di flut, lista am ne en klen blas. Ex. stendifi a se: mi sa len ju, bot mi wet, jen kan dif atʌvel. listu (D.) also lista (D.) ‘listen, hear’. Ex. so wɛni di kiniŋ a listu am, am a rup am, se am fo blas ši flut, ta am ho. Ex. ju no kan lista mi. . . . lo (P., D., N., S.) also lop (O., M., P., D.), lu (D.) ‘go’. Occurs in directional and purposive serial verb constructions. It was grammaticalized to encode imperfective aspect and proximate future and occurs in lopan ‘go on’ (D. , N.). (S)Ex. mi lo abit fandʌ duŋku. Ex. so mi a lop. Ex. am a se: lu we fa hi, ju huŋguse. los (D., S.) also lʌs (S.) ‘loosen, let loose’. Ex. den am a los dʌ menši. (S)Ex. mi ka lʌs, lʌs senu. lʌs (S.), also lus (P., S.) ‘louse’. Occurs in the compound houtulus ‘wood louse (i.e., terminte). (S)Ex. lʌs. (S)Ex. fɛrgi lus. 268 appendix three ma1 (D., N., G., S.) also mak (P., D.), me (D.), ‘make’. Mrs. Stevens explicitly rejects mak. (S)Ex. dɛ bi ma hʌni. Ex. dʌ hou mula a se: ni lo, hoso mi lo lo mak it. Ex. me am a gi di juŋ en ril fa katun. ma2 (P., G., V.), bot (D., G.) ‘but’. Taylor (1964) suggests Negerhollands ma “owes as much to Dutch maar as to Portuguese mas. Ex. bergi mit bergi no kan tek, ma twee mens sal tek. Ex. den di menši ha se, am sa kri am fri bot am ha fo lo mi am. makutu (P., D., N., V., S.), makut (M.), makoet (O., G.) ‘basket’. The inflected plural form, makutten occurs in Pontopiddian’s (1881) example from the gospel. Carstens (1997) documents Hoch Kreol machuter. (S)Ex. makutu. Ex. hunder suk makut, makut le tue sender. Ex. as volk ka quaat na joe, sender gie joe makoet voor tap water. malaši (D., V.), malassie (M.), molassi (P.) ‘molasses’. Ex. . . . sinu a du di bini di {curin’}-hus fo alma di malaši kuri it fan di. Ex. branmier val na malassie, da sut hem ha vind. Ex. brambi fal na molassi, da sut him ka fen. mamai (P., N.) also mʌmai (S.) ‘mammy apple’. (S)Ex. mʌmai. man (D., N., S.) also mant (D., S.) ‘moon, month’. Occurs in the compound manskin ‘moonlight’. (S)Ex. dʌ man. (S)Ex. mi a ka ki am en mant. manda (D., N., S.) also mandak, mandag (D.) ‘Monday’. (S)Ex. ju se sʌnda, manda, disinda, wunsda, dʌndʌda, frida, satʌda. Ex. mandag, mandak, disʌndag, disʌndak, unsdag, unsdak, dondʌdag, dondʌdak, fridag, fridak, stʌdag, stʌdak, sondag, sondak. maŋkandu (D., S.) also maŋkadu (S.), maŋkan (D.), makander (M.) ‘together’. (S)Ex. ma ju mil mi ju fanja maŋkandu. (S)Ex. an ju ma senu maŋkadu {together}, dɛn ju {kneed} senu. Ex. . . . ju lo lo maŋkan me am? Ex. jender no bin maet makander. maŋke (P., D., S.) also manke (G.), maŋge, maŋki (S.), mankeer (P.) ‘need, want’. (S)Ex. ju se ju maŋke stɛki fɛrgi mun. (S)Ex. mi no maŋge enten andu. (S)Ex. a ju maŋki. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 269 maro (D., G.) also maroon (P.) ‘escape, wild; wilit, wil (D.), wɛlt (D., G.) ‘wild’. Cimarrón, from which maro is ultimately derived, was “first used in the Caribbean in the 1520s to refer to wild cattle” (Hennessy 1991:1). Occurs in the compound maro pen ‘wild pineapple’. Ex. am a maro. Ex. en maroon pusie. Ex. am a kuri de di bus lɛik en wilit fɛrgi. Ex. wɛni am a rak en {distance} abini di wil bus, am a ki en klen hus. Ex. wani sini a lo fo suk fo di ma a hus, di ma ka lo a bus wɛlt. masbondo (D.) also marbuner (O.) ‘wasp’. Ex. . . . bot dʌ kiniŋ a sɛ am, am nu fo sla di masbondo sinu, wɛni sinu ka stek am. mata1 (P., D., N. G., S.) also matʌ (S.), martae (M.) ‘kill’. (S)Ex. am a rup ši buči fo ko hɛlp am fo mata di kui. (S)Ex. ju matʌ di fɛrgi. Ex. lastaen sender martae twee hunder. mata2 (N.) also mat (D.), maet (M.) ‘mate, comrade’. Also cabe (P., G.), karaber (G.), kontri (D.) ‘comrade’. Ex. bru roto a lo lo se twe fa ši mat roto: bru puši ha kas mi rezʌ abini ši hus. Ex. morg maet. Ex. morruk, cabe. Ex. sinu a se en mi di andu: kontri, jen ki en halʌf {cheese}. me (D., N., G.) also meer (M., O., P.) mɛ (D.) ‘more’. Occurs in the superlative mestʌ (D.), meest ‘most’ (P.) in the compound nume(r) (D.) ‘no more’. Ex. ši ben a wes me grot me a enʌstʌ man ben. Ex. jender no wil drink meer tee? meme (S.), mima (N.) ‘godmother’; nɛn (S.) ‘godmother, mother’s friend’. Virgin Islands English Creole retains nɛni ‘godmother’. (S)Ex. [your] nɛn o ju, ju meme. menši (D., S.) also mensji (G.), mɛnši (D., N., S.), mensi, minši (D.), ‘girl’. Occurs in the compound menšikin (D.) ‘daughter’. (S)Ex. klen menši mi lo kap ju gat. (S)Ex. di mɛnši a ha en guŋgu bik. Ex. ɛn dʌ mensi a hal a ši. Ex. ju pupa ha fo gi siwun juŋ mi sewun minši. mestu (D.) also meester (M., G.), mestʌr (D.), mɛstu (D.) ‘master, boss, Lord’. Ex. alma ši mestu jet bli a fi bran te en fan di dak ši mɛstu ko a di koki. . . . 270 appendix three

Ex. morg, meester. Ex. ham a lo a taphus lo kop jit fo ši mestʌr. Ex. o mɛstu macdama, ju no ha hou izʌl a {cellar} fo stop dženan fo lo da? midi (D.) also midɛl (G.), midl (D., S.), mɛl (D., G.), amɛl (D.), mɛdl (D., V.) ‘in the middle’. Occurs in the compound mɛdlat (D.), midnat (D., V.) ‘midnight’, and mɛdlwif (D., V.) ‘midwife’. Ex. ǰis in di midi. (S)Ex. midl fan senu. Ex. sini a wes druŋk, ka lei mɛl i flu, bot di finjol lo flig alen. Ex. . . . am a ko amɛl sini ɛn dan am a se sini, di andʌ wek am lo ma en andʌ bal. . . . Ex. am a ko mɛdl fan dʌ pat. mɛluk (N., S.) also mɛlʌk, milʌk (D.), melk (M.) ‘milk’. (S)Ex. mi kli mɛluk; mi a jet ši fɛlis. (S)Ex. di mɛlʌk abɛnɛ di botl. Ex. am a hal, am na kan kri en dropl milʌk. Ex. da wa die melk bin? mɛriki (D., V.) also amɛriki (D.) ‘America’. Ex. nu di fulʌk sini fa mɛriki ko ko kop di plɛk. Ex. mi nu kan froko ju di flut sondu ju gi me enhondut patakon fodima mi ha fo lo weran a amɛriki. . . . mɛs1 (D., N., S.) also nɛf (S.), nef (N.), nif (S.) ‘knife’. (S)Ex. ju ne ju mɛs o ju kʌtlaš ɛn ju kap di. (S)Ex. mi maŋke en nɛf. {it must be sharp} fo sni di pampun. (S)Ex. ju šini di {with} ju nif. mɛs2 (D.) also tomɛs (G.), tumɛs (D.) ‘almost, maybe’. Ex. so wɛn bru hon mɛs ka kri wapi kabrita bi, am rup it astu am weran. . . . Ex. ham a se dʌ mula, dʌ twe fa sini lo kuri, tumɛs sini na sa stop kuri fo twe ja. mi1 (O., M., P., D., N., G., S.) also mɛ (S.) ‘first person singular pronoun’. Occurs in the reflexive forms misel (D., S.), miselluf (P., G.) ‘myself’. (S)Ex. an a se a lo ki mi wɛran, {but} mi noit a ki a weran. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ mɛ hal senu fo ʌbene sen {hole}, mi te dʌ sten o di stʌk an mi sla am, sla am, sla am, te an dot. mi2 (D., S.) also mit (M., P., D., G.), mee (O.) mɛ (D., N., G.), mɛt (D.), wit (N.) ’with’. As Bruyn and Veenstrra (1993) indicate and as illustrated here, mi has comitative, instrumental, and partitive meanings. (S)Ex. . . . fɛs mi {okro} ɛn mi kjambo. Ex. di hus wa bru puši a lo won abini, a dis ha twe venstʌ mit en do. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 271

(S)Ex. sen mi baŋ mi ka kap senu mi di sten. Ex. am a ha en hop mi ferkikin Ex. siekte kom mee kawai, en loop weeraan mee voet. Ex. an am a du en bak mɛ haripa abini di han fa di pobitši. Ex. nu di juŋman a lo a enandʌ plɛ fo lo eŋges enandʌ frou fo trou mɛt. mil (D., V., S.) also mel (N.) ‘flour’. Valls glosses this as cornmeal. (S)Ex. ju ha mil? mo, mut (D.) also moet (O.) ‘must’. Ex. am a se di hou roto, am mo briŋ alma di famili. Ex. so am a se, i noit sa du, am mut lo a di kiniŋ. monti (D., V.) also mata (D.) ‘mortar’. Occurs in the compound montistok ‘pestle’. Ex. . . . ǰis lɛik am na {bow} ši kop obu di monti fo lo ful hoso fin dʌ sout be, . . . Ex. am a ne di mata fo stam ši kop. moruk (P., D., G., N., S.) also morgɛn (G.), morog, morok (N.), morg (M.) ‘tomorrow, morning’. (S)Ex. wɛnʌ an ko di {ma-} moruk, am a se: moruk {Ms. Stevens}. Ex. morg, hue laet die bin? moi1 (D., N., S.) also mui (D., S.) ‘beautiful, pretty’. (S)Ex. di kin mi moi; {the child pretty}. (S)Ex. ju mi mui: {that’s good looking; you pretty}. moi2 (S.) also mui ‘aunt’. (S)Ex. {you know what is} ju moi? {you aunt.} (S)Ex. dɛn mi a ko {here}; ko {here St. Thomas} a mi mui. muma (D.) also mudɛr (G.), ma (D., N., G., S.), mama (M., D., N., S.), mʌdaum (N.) ‘mother’. Ex. fadʌ a se am, dʌ kiniŋ ka ne ši muma. (S)Ex. {This} kin a di {best} kin ši ma ha. (S)Ex. so an a pase, mi a hopo, mi a kuri, mi lo a hus, se, “mama, mi mi huŋgu.” mun (D., G., S.) also mon (D., N., V), mont (M., G.) ‘mouth, beak, snout’. (S)Ex. ju se ju maŋke stɛki fɛrgi mun. Ex. di a smak ši mon. Ex. veg ju mont. muči (S.) also muši (D., S.), musji (G.), mussie (P., G.) ‘much, many’. Stein (1986) documents moeschi in the early Moravian letters. (S)Ex. mi a wɛl ɛm muči. (S)Ex. {plenty} ju se ha muši. Ex. mi ha ha pin na mi tan, ma die fru die be mussie better, dank God. 272 appendix three muši (D., S.) also musji (G.), miši (D., N.), misji (G.) ‘mouse’. (S)Ex. dri blin muši, ki hoso sini kuri. Ex. am a se: ju nu kan drai en miši. na1 (M. O., P., D., N., G.) also a (D., N., G., S.) ‘locative particle’. Occurs in locative adverbs and prepositions (e.g., nabini ‘in’, nabiti ‘out’, nabono ‘over’, nafo ‘before’, naundu ‘under’). Ex. so am a se: dʌ sla ka pin mi, bot mi edʌ di da dan fo lo na fort. (S)Ex. ju a ne en, ne {up} di andu wa bin de a gron. nas (S.) also nes (N.), nees (M.) ‘nose’. Occurs in the compounds nas(i)gat (S.) ‘nostril’; nestuk (D.), nistuk (D.), halsnesdoek (M., G.), saknɛstuk (D., N.), neesduk (M.) ‘handkerchief; head wrap’; neston (N.) ‘kerchief’. (S)Ex. ju nas. Ex. ju no hab neesduk for veeg ju nees? ne1 (D., N., G., S.), nem (D., G., S.), nen (D., S.), rɛm (N.), te (D., S.), tek (P.) ‘take (up)’. (S)Ex. ju a ne en, ne {up} di andu wa bin de a gron. (S)Ex. ju nem di. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ di fi a hit, ju a nen di. . . . (S)Ex. astu an šini di abit, an te di nal mi di garun, an a du di maŋke. Ex. bergi mit bergi no kan tek, ma twee mens sal tek. ne2 (D.) also doŋ (D.) ‘down’. Ex. wani sini a du am abini di graf, sini a dis goi am ne bini di gat. Ex. di twe grot sten wa kan hou dʌ mula doŋ a fal obu bini di pit. negun (S.), negʌn, nɛgʌn (D.) also negon, nɛgon (N.), ‘nine’. Occurs in negʌn, nɛgʌndʌ (D.) ‘nineth’; nɛgonti(k) (N.), nɛgʌntik (D.) ‘ninety’; nɛgʌntindʌ (D.) ‘ninetieth; and the compounds nɛgʌntin (D.), nɛgʌntin (D.); negontin ‘nineteen’; nɛgʌntindʌ (D.) ‘nineteenth’; negʌntinsɛstin ‘1916’; nɛgʌnɛntwintik (D.) ‘twenty nine’. (S)Ex. sɛs, sɛwun, ak, negun, tin, alf, twalʌf. Ex. ham a kapaf di negʌn kop. Ex. en, twe, dri, fi, fɛif, sɛs, sɛwun, ak, nɛgʌn, tin ʌlʌf, twalʌf. . . . negu, negʌr (D.) also neger (O.) ‘Negro’. Earlier it meant ‘slave’. Occurs in the compounds negʌman, negerman (D.). Ex. ananši a anturt am: wapi di hei ju ka ho kiniŋ ha negu lo sla, negu kan še a kiniŋ šo. Ex. am a werʌk mi di mula te am a ko en grot negʌr. nɛs (D., S.) also nest (M.) ‘nest’. (S)Ex. mi am fikiti am; mi du ʌbɛni brambi nɛs. Ex. hunder wet sie nest. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 273 no (M., O., P., D., N., G., S.) also nu (D., N., G.), na (D., S.), ne (D., N.), nʌ (S.), ni (D., N.), nit (D.) ‘negative particle’, nen (D., V., S.) ‘emphatic negative’. Nelson’s consultants provide a double negative noit no ‘never + negative’ that is unattested elsewhere. (S)Ex. sen na skreju, {so} ju no wit ape sen {be}. Ex. . . . as ju nu kan ris, mi no wet, wa ju gut fo. Ex. di twe roto sini na wak fo wɛt wa kan giskit o wa ne kan giskit. (S)Ex. nʌ du di ʌbɛni na ovʌn, dʌ pʌt, mi fi. Ex. dʌ hou mula a se: ni lo, hoso mi lo lo mak it. Ex. nit en kopu am na kan kri kom it, it fa di sten. (S)Ex. am mi swat, nen a en blaŋku. noli (D., N., G., S.) ‘donkey’. De Jong gives aksl (D.) ‘donkey, hinny’ and glosses /noli/ as mule. Mrs. Stevens used /bruka/ and /mjul/ for ‘mule’. (S)Ex. mi dra di noli abɛne di pat. nom (D., N., S,) also nʌm (S.), man (O., P., D., N., G., S.)10, mens (D., P.), ‘man, husband, uncle, person’. Occurs as root in mančap (D.) ‘man, person’, in the reduplicated form manman (D.) ‘manly, sizable’ and in the compounds manple (D., G.) ‘penis’, mansak (D.) ‘bag, sack, pouch’, and manroto ‘male rat’. Mrs. Stevens identifies man as an English word. (S)Ex. di nom. (S)Ex. di nʌm a ka sla di frau lɛlʌk. (S)Ex. mi a fin am ʌbɛnʌ mi man ši hus. Ex. am a se: na en mens sondʌ bru {rabbit}. nu (D., N., S.) also nou (D.), no (N.) ‘now’. Reduplicated in nunu (S.) ‘soon.’ (S)Ex. wun abobo dɛr fam dɛn {until} nu. Ex. nou am a ha fo blas bini ši ho fo ki as dʌ puši sa ris wɛran. nuŋgal (D., S.) also nogal (M.) ‘yet, still’. (S)Ex. sen no ka guri nuŋgal. Ex. hueso ju no ka hoppo nogal? nju (S.), also nyw (P.) ‘new’. Occurs as root of nyws (P., G.) ‘news’. (S)Ex. mi a ha en nju kapʌto. Ex. mi {wonder}, as die ha eniste nyw na taphus.

10 Mrs. Stevens also identifies /man/ as an English word. 274 appendix three obn (D.) also ovʌn (D., S.), ovn (D., N.) ‘oven’. Ex. wɛni am ka kri obn het, {lion} a se a bru fergi lista am lo abini di obn fo. (S)Ex. nʌ du di ʌbɛni na ovʌn, dʌ pʌt, mi fi. Ex. di twɛ fa sinu {agree} fo ki widi kan {bear} me {heat} abini en ovn. oka (D.) also ookal (M.) ‘also’. Ex. as am no kan drak am fo gi am fo lista am kri bitji oka. Ex. mie heer le loop daeso ookal? ons (P., D., N., G., S.), also on, oŋ (D.), wi (G.) ‘first person plural pronoun’. (S)Ex. ons gera. Ex. a am ale on ha. Ex. . . . ju fu wes en {stranger} fu wet wa bagin oŋ ka ma. ondu (D., G., S.) also ondʌ (D., G.), undu (D., G., S.), naundu (D., G.), undʌ (D.), hʌndu, ʌndo (S.) ‘under’. Occurs in the compound undusaja ‘underskirt’ (D.). (S)Ex. ju bre senu, ju du di abɛ-, o, ondu di pʌt. Ex. so am a ma en klen hus ondʌ gron. (S)Ex. undu di bere. Ex. . . ., skilpat bi naundu watʌ a di pos lo wak. Ex. di mɛnši a flig undʌ di bɛdɛ. (S)Ex. alma bɛnɛ di hus, hʌndu stɛn, alma bɛnɛ di bus, bo bom alma ʌbit. (S)Ex. lo ʌndo en bom, dɛ regun ko. papai (P., N.) also pʌpai (S.) ‘papaya’. (S)Ex. di pʌpai: mi maŋke kuk di; mi maŋke jɛ di. pase (D., S.) also pasɛ (D., S.), passer (M.), paso (S.) ‘pass (by)’. (S)Ex. so an a pase, mi a hopo, mi a kuri, mi lo a hus, se, “mama, mi mi huŋgu.” (S)Ex. lista mi pasɛ klen biči. Ex. hem ka passer veif en twentig jaer. (S)Ex. lista mi paso a ju blif. {Let me pass if you please.} paso (D., N., G., S.) also pas op11 (M., G.) ‘nurse, take care (of), herd’. Nelson’s consultant(s) gloss this as ‘watch’. They also provide moin ‘mind’. (S)Ex. paso hoso ju spil; ju lo te ju kapʌto. Ex. ju pas op, soo lang mie loop wander.

11 Graves writes pasop. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 275 pat (M., D., S.) also pad (O., P., G.) ‘road, path’. Occurs in the compound halʌf pat (D.) ‘half way’. (S)Ex. mi dra di noli abɛne di pat. Ex. pad mi long, cheambo drog na sji boom. patakon (D., N., V.) also patʌkon (S.) ‘dollar’. De Jong (1926) mentions a Spanish silver coin called a patacon. Nelson’s consultant(s) gloss patakon as one hundred. Valls does not identify this as a Negerhollands term. Ex. dan lo a ši ma, lo se si ma, am ka kop di flut fo drihondʌrt patakon. (S)Ex. mi lo gi ju fʌv patʌkon nu. patikla (D.) also putikla (D., G.) ‘particular’. Ex. jin juŋ menši mi frai fofluk an ons hou man ha fo bi muši patikla. Ex. bot wes putikla: ɛs {not}, di sa drai ju a en sten. patpat (P., D., V.) also patč-pači (N.) ‘duck’. Carstens (1997) provides patte- patte. Ex. . . . am drai di juŋ man en riva a watu en am drai amself a en patpat bini di watu. pepu (D., S.) also pɛpu12 (N., V.), pipu (S.) ‘pepper, spice and vegetable’. (S)Ex. Ju ne sʌut, pɛpu, pepu {that’s pepper}. (S)Ex. mi no wɛl pipu. pɛk (P., D., S.) also pik (D., S.) ‘pick, peck’. Occurs in the reduplicated form pɛkpɛk (D.) ‘to look for food’. Pontoppidian (1881) gives peck-peck ‘collection’. (S)Ex. sen ko abo dʌ sten, an wɛnʌ ju lo a di ze, ju pɛk sɛnu fam bo di stin. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ ju pik senu fam bo di bom ju was senu. pɛn (N., S.) also kot (M., O., G.), stal (D.) ‘pen, stall, sty’. (S)Ex. fuluk kop senu an sen ha senu a se hus ʌbɛni en fɛrki pɛn. Ex. mie bin pover kakelak, mie no hab regt na hunder kot. Ex. muši duŋku am slap bini di kabai stal. pʌn (S.) also pon (D.), pan (N.) ‘16 ounces’ (S)Ex. mi maŋke dri pʌn; hoso ju frukʌ di? Ex. huve pon ju maŋke? piši (S.) also pipi (D.,V.) ‘urinate’. Valls does not identify /pipi/ as a Neg- erhollands form. (S)Ex. sen fa piši ʌbo ju. Ex. am a se, am lo pipi.

12 Mrs. Stevens corrected pɛpu to pepu. 276 appendix three

pit (D.) also pet (N.) ‘well, pit’. Carstens (1997) provides pytter. Ex. am a pus dʌ mula kan di pit. plan (D., G., S.) also plant (P., D., N.,) ‘plant’. Occurs as the root in planta (D., G.) ‘planter’, plantai (D., N., G., S.), plantaj, plantsoon (P.) ‘plantation, provision ground’. (S)Ex. {they} a maŋke di lan fʌ plan gras. Ex. so se am, wɛni am lo plant ši jamus, am fo goi sinu bini en guŋgu kitl. plɛ (P., D., G., S.) also plɛk (D.), ple (S.), ples (N.), plas (D.) also plats (D., G.) ‘place’. (S)Ex. mi no lo lo ɛntin plɛ. Ex. bru {rabbit} am a wɛs di hɛlt fa di plɛk wa api am a won. (S)Ex. ɛn ple ju rup sɛsmʌn hil. Ex. am a fin di noli bini dʌ plas. Ex. di noli a lo midʌl i plats. plim (D., N.) also flim (P.) ‘feather’. Ex. ham a ne en plim. Ex. hundu sji flim. plimbo (D.) also plimbu (D.) ‘prison’. A bilbo was an iron bar with shackles used to confine feet of prisoners on ships. D’Costa and Lalla (1989) document bilbo in Jamaican. Ex. ɛn dan dʌ bumba a wɛs di estʌ man sini a briŋ it fa plimbo. . . . Ex. . . . ne di helʌ fa sini ko du a plimbu, bumba mi alma. pobu, pubu (D.) also pobre (P.), pover (M., G.), poʌ (S.) ‘poor’. Also occurs as a superlative in pobreste (P.) ‘poorest’ and in the compound pobiǰak (D.), poverjack (O.) ‘dried cod’. Ex. pobu mi, pobu mi, butši, ju šiši maŋke ju. Ex. am wet prisjas nʌ ha enteen gut, am bi pubu. Ex. pobre no bin fraj. Ex. mie bin pover kakelak, mie no hab regt na hunder kot. (S)Ex. ju no ha ɛntɛn stibu, ju mi poʌ. pot (P., D., N., S.) also put (D., G., S.), pʌt (S.) ‘pot’. Ex. wɛni di juŋ a ha sini bini dʌ pot, ham a drai sini obu mi ši han. (S)Ex. tu di put. (S)Ex. di pʌt bin da mi di lipu. di pʌt mi di lipu, ki di da. pukopɛ (D.) also prikupɛʌ (S.), prokopɛ (V.) ‘prickly pear’. Valls does not identify this as a Negerhollands form. Occurs in the compound prikupekop (D.) ‘priklepearhead’ which De Jong suggests is a slip of the tongue for prikupehop ‘prickly pear heap’. Ex. pukopɛ. ju šini di mi ɛn mɛs. (S)Ex. a was di mi prikupɛʌ. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 277 pruf (D.) also prube (N.) ‘test’. Ex. bot wɛni sinu a kaba, sinu nu a pruf dʌ watu. pupa1 (D., V., S.) also popa (D., N.), fadʌ (D., G.), tata (M., O.), (ti)ta (D.), tai (D., V.) ‘father’. De Jong (1926) limits fadʌ to a term of respect, not kinship. Occurs in the compounds grotpupa (S.) ‘grandfather’, skonpupa, skonpapa, (D.), and skonta (D., G.) ‘father-in-law’. /tata/ is possibly a reflex of Ewe tata, a form largely used by children (Kodjo Afokpa p.c., 8/12/1988). (S)Ex. wenɛ mi a lo prat a di pupa, di kin ne dʌ fʌn. Ex. ši ma a se am, am fo lo: an sa fin ši popa a di andʌ ši da. Ex. am a nam fadʌ jusiʌs. Ex. maer die no hab kaes, en tata no keer voor botterham soso. Ex. ši tita ka plant en stɛki jamus Ex. en di menši a se, ši ta ka pus am mi di kin it fa ši plɛ. Ex. am a se a ši tai: bru kabritabok a se, as ons ko da a di hus, am sa jɛt ɛkɛrɛn fan sinu skon skon. pus (D., G.) also puz (D.) ‘push’ (n./v.). Ex. en di menši a se, ši ta ka pus am mi di kin it fa ši plɛ. Ex. ham a puz di a ze. puši (D., N., G., S.) also pussje (P.) ‘cat’. (S)Ex. wɛne hun ha bin lo spil, puši maŋke di. Ex. no fordimak pussje {wander him} fang rotter. rapo (D., S.) also rupo (S.) ‘gather (up)’. (S)Ex. mi a rapo di. (S)Ex. ons a lo ʌn a rupo skʌndu skʌndu fɛs. rebʌn (D.) also revin (S.), glʌs (S.) ‘greedy’. Ex. . . . di twe fan sinu a ma en bargain fo sla hunduhan fodima sinu se, weni di frou goi it di jɛt gi sinu, hunduhan mi so rebʌn, am pik op alma fan di jɛt gou gou. (S)Ex. ju mi revin; ju mi glʌs. regun (S.) also regon (N.), rɛgun (G.), regen (P.), regn, rign (D.) ‘rain’. Occurs in the compounds renbak (D., V.), regolbak (N.), ‘cistern’ and regnwatu (D.) ‘rainwater’. (S)Ex. lo ʌndo en bom, dɛ regun ko. Ex. blau diffie seg: wen regen caba, mi sal bau mi eigen hus. Ex. di spriŋ sinu fan di pit a lo goi watu leiki wɛni regn lo fal a di spout bo di hus. Ex. wɛni rign fal, am ka lo de di baba mi ši skun. 278 appendix three rɛgɛ (N.) also rɛge, rige (S.), rigi (D.), ‘back of body’. Mrs. Stevens explicitly rejected /rigi/. Occurs in the compounds rigibin (V.) also rigiben (D.) ‘backbone, spine’. (S)Ex. sik ko ʌbo kabai rɛge; bli en tit fo lo. (S)Ex. ko krau mi rige. Ex. di puši a klim bo di hon rigi. rɛt (D., S.) also rɛk (D.), regt (M.), recht (O.) ‘right, exactly’. Occurs in the compound rɛitaf (D.) ‘immediately’. (S)Ex. mi a se am alma rɛt. Ex. wani skilpat a rak, am a wandʌ rɛk abini di grot hal. Ex. kakkerlak no ha recht na hoenerkot. Ex. hangman no sa verloor sie regt. rɛtu, rɛktʌ (D.) also rit (S.) ‘right (not left)’. Ex. dan di sinu wa am ha bini a ši rɛtu han am sa ne sinu a hɛwun mɛ am. Ex. so am a bli da, am a skop ši rɛktʌ fut te ši fut a fal. (S)Ex. ju rit han. ro (D., N., G., S.), also jaia (D., V.), joia (D.) in trickster speech ‘red’. Occurs in the compounds rotbonči (D.), robonǰi (N.) ‘red beans’. (S)Ex. an a en ro frau. Ex. so wɛni mi ka kom it, wɛni ju se mi: hogo ka drai jaia, dan mi sa tre ju abit. Ex. wɛni mi se ju: hogo drai joia, ju fo tre mi abit. ron(t), run (D.) ‘round’. Ex. am a ka set ron di taul mi ši grot man sini. Ex. am a se, am ka ki twenti mi fi man lo jit ront en tawul. Ex. am a gui si han rɛt run di menši nek. rotl (D.) also rutl (D., V.) ‘scrabble, wrestle’. Ex. wɛni ǰak a ho di rotl, am a hopo. Ex. wɛni kalkun a ki, hunduhan mi na gron lo rutl da. . . . roto (D., V.) also rotter (P.), roton (N.), ratu (S.) ‘rat’. Ex. am nʌ kan faŋ roto nume. Ex. no fordimak pussje {wander him} fang rotter. (S)Ex. ratu? rup (D., N., S.) also roep (O.), hop (N.) ‘call’. (S)ex. wi lo rup mi? Ex. hoeso joe roep die? glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 279 sa (D., N., G., S.) also sal (O., P., D., G.), sɛl (D.) ‘remote/hypothetical future’. (S)Ex. lo a di graspis. ju sa fɛn sɛnu da. Ex. . . . mi no sal lista ju labour a gron fo lo bʌderʌf,. . . . Ex. dan mi no sɛl frag fo enten. saban (D., V.) also sawaen (M.), savanne (O.), ‘meadow, grassy plain’. Ex. ɛn dag ham a lo a di saban. Ex. lastaen sender loop na sawaen. saja (D., N., V.) ‘woman’s skirt’, seja (N.) ‘petticoat’. A reflex of Ibero- Romance saia ‘skirt’. Valls glosses this as ‘women work’. Occurs in the compounds undusaja (D.) ‘under skirt’ and sajastet (D.) ‘skirt tail’. Ex. dʌ menši ši saja a krew it lo siŋ dʌ seldu siŋ. saku (D., V.) also sak (D., G., S.), duksak (D.) ‘sack, knapsack, purse, pocket’. Valls describes this one of a pair of baskets placed on pack animals’. Occurs in the compounds nesduk (M., D.), saknɛstuk (N.), ‘handkerchief’. Ex. ham a gi am ši stibo bini en guŋgu saku. (S)Ex. mi a ne en guŋgu en, lɛkʌ ju sak dɛ. Ex. ham a gi dʌ man ši duksak mi ši stibo. sal (O., D., S.) also sadl (O., S.) ‘saddle’. Occurs in the compound sal duku (D.) ‘saddle cloth’. (S)Ex. mi bin di tau a di sal kop. (S)Ex. dʌ kabai ka sadl. sapata (D., V.) also skun (M., D., G., S.), skon (N.). Occurs in the compounds hantskuen (M.) ‘gloves’, skunmɛka (N.) ‘shoemaker’. Ex. di juŋman sal gi ju sabʌl en sal gi ju dʌ sapata. (S)Ex. ju ha boba ʌbo ju skun. satida(k) (S.) also, satʌda, stʌdag, stʌdak (D.), satɛrdɛ (N.) ‘Saturday’. (S)Ex. ɛke satida. (S)Ex. sen a wes hi, satida. satidak? Ex. dan am me ananši a ko di satʌda frufru. Ex. mandag, mandak, disʌndag, disʌndak, unsdag, unsdak, dondʌdag, dondʌdak, fridag, fridak, stʌdag, stʌdak, sondag, sondak. sʌut(u) (S.) also sout (D., G.) ‘salt’. Occurs in the compound saugut (S.), sougut (D., V.) ‘salted meat or fish’. Occurs as the root in sowed (P.) ‘salted’. (S)Ex. sʌutu. (S)Ex. sen du sʌut abɛnɛ di fles. Ex. ham a se: ki di andʌ saku, nʌ ha sout fo du mi di. Ex. . . . mi jeet sowed gut mit funchi. 280 appendix three sazaka (N.) also sizaka (D., S.), susaka (V.) ‘soursop’. Occurs in the compounds sizakabla (D.) ‘soursop leaf’, sizakabus (S.) ‘soursop leaf’, and susakabom (D.) ‘soursop bush’. Nelson gives tizan (N.) ‘soursap’. Since soursop has many medicinal uses, Nelson’s consultant(s) may have been thinking of tisan ‘medicinal tea’. (S)Ex. ju jet sizaka? se1 (O., D., N., G., S.), sɛ (D.), seg (P.) ‘say, tell’. Functions in serial verb constructions as a quotative and as a complementizer. (S)Ex. mi a se am aǰos. Ex. di {very} gut wa anansi a sɛ tɛkoma, di a wɛs di estʌ gut am a du. Ex. blau diffie seg: wen regen caba, mi sal bau mi eigen hus. Ex. anansi a se, du am a fort, am noit sa prat se a tekoma a mata di kui. se2 (N.) also ze (D., G., V., S.) ‘sea’. Occurs in the compounds zedibʌl (D.) ’sea devil’, zegot (D.) ’seagod’, zekarosi (V., D) ‘steamship’, and zewatu, zewatʌ (D., G.) ‘seawater’. (S)Ex. ju lo swɛm a di ze. sɛluf (S.), sɛl, sɛlbu, sɛldu, sɛlf (D.), ‘even, same, self’. Occurs reflexively in compounds with personal pronouns: misel(f), jusel(f), šisel, etc. (S)Ex. di sɛluf gut. Ex. . . . sinu a rɛs sinu sɛl te wɛni di a ko tit fo sinu bigin fo wɛrʌk. Ex. . . . ǰak a du dʌ sɛlbu wɛrʌk wa am a se dʌ ma, hoso fo du. Ex. dʌ menši ši saja a krew it lo siŋ dʌ sɛldu siŋ. Ex. . . . dat sini no wɛl gi ons pobu nɛgʌ biči sopi sɛlf fo driŋ. sɛn (N., G., S.), also sɛnu (S.), sɛnɛ (N.), sɛnʌ (D.), sɛni, (D.), sɛne (N.), sen (N., G., S.), senu (S.), sin, sini (D.), sinʌ (D., G.), sinu (D., S.), zinʌ (D.), sɛndu (D., N.), sender (M., G.) sɛndɛ (G.), sɛndr (D.), sɛl (G.), sellie (M., G.) ‘third person plural pronoun/additive plural/associative plural’. There is some tendency for /sen/ to be used as a subject pronoun. Additionally, sanu, soni (S.), se (M., D.), sɛnr, sɛndʌr, si, and sinr (D.) appear infrequently, often as nonce forms. Nelson’s consultant(s) produce /sɛns/ ‘their’. Ex. sɛn sni af sɛn{s} stɛt {wit a} gɛbrata mɛs. (S)Ex. sen ko abo de sten, an wɛnʌ ju lo a di se, ju pɛk sɛnu fam bo di stin. Ex. der {has} seteris, an ne sɛnɛ a di fort. Ex. am a ne ši folʌk sɛnʌ mi di menši. Ex. dʌ hou man a ne sɛni a ši hus. (S)Ex. am a fra mi as mi lo dil mi senu. Ex. huso an ka mata sin got. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 281

Ex. sini a fra az di ha me. Ex. dɛn di twe fa sinʌ a wandʌ maŋkandʌ. (S)Ex. . . . eke frufru, di kabrita sinu fʌ jit abɛni {the grass piece}. Ex. di dri fa zinʌ mi blin, sini ki de en hogo. Ex. . . . sodat wenʌ sɛndu kom fo faŋ frufruko, di mestʌr nu sa faŋ wa hotʌ fan mi popa. Ex. sender ha seg se sa kom jeet vrukost na mie. Ex. ham a se an sa du suwe frai fu ši fulʌk sɛndr. Ex. ɛf ju drag mi na fort, sɛl lo sla mi ɛn du mi na strat for werʌk. Ex. Neen, sellie ha slaep die heel donker. sɛrbɛt, sɛrvɛt (D.) ‘napkin’. Ex. am se, am no maŋke dʌ sɛrbɛt nu, am maŋke dʌ ɛigʌna fan dʌ sɛrbɛt. Ex. am a lista di sɛrvɛt a pat. sɛt (D., S.) also sit (D.) ‘set/sit (down)’. (S)Ex. sen sɛt ʌbɛni dʌ manskin ɛn sen spɛl. Ex. so am a kan sit an kris. sɛtɛris, setens (N.) ‘police’. sɛwun (D., S.) also sewn (N.), sewun, siwun (D.), sivun (S.), sevʌn (D., S.), seeven (M.) ‘seven’. Occurs in the numberals sɛwɛntin (N.), sɛwuntin, sevʌntin (D.) ‘seventeen’; sɛwʌndʌ (D.) ‘seventh’; sɛwʌntik (D.), sɛwɛntik, sɛvɛnti (N.) ‘seventy’; sɛwʌnɛntwintik (D.) ‘twenty seven’; and in the ordinal number sɛwʌndʌ (D.). (S)Ex. sɛs, sɛwun, akt, negun, tin, alif, twalif. Ex. ju pupa ha fo gi siwun juŋ mi sewun minši. (S)Ex. en, twe, dri, fi, fɛiv, sɛs, sivun, akt, negun, tin, alif, twalif. (S)Ex. mi a hopo a sEvs, a sewun, sevʌn nu frufru. Ex. die bin seeven yer. sʌp (S.) also sop (D.) ‘soup’. (S)Ex. mi wɛl bonči sʌp mi {pidgin peas}, bunči. Ex. . . . mi no kan fin ekegut fo me klen bitji sop. sik1 (N., S.) also siekte (O.) ’sick, sickness’. (S)Ex. sik ko ʌbo kabai rɛge; bli en tit fo lo. Ex. siekte kom mee kawai, en loop weeraan mee voet. sinpiwiri (D.) also semper vivum (O.) ‘an aloe’. Ex. fo ma se pase di wurum kri tɛki sinpiwiri, šini di hopo a twe. . . . skɛ(r) (D., G.) also ske (D.), sker (M., D.), te (S.) ‘tear (up), shave’. Also the root in skiriŋ (D.), skuring (O.) ‘whipping’. Ex. ham a skɛ en fa di flɛgʌn. 282 appendix three

Ex. it. am a skɛr di. Ex. am a ske di op. . . . Ex. mi sker ju mon, mi sker ju bard! (S)Ex. paso hoso ju spil; ju lo te ju kapʌto. skilpat (D., G.) also skɛlbat, skɛlpan (N.) ‘tortoise’. Ex. am a fra skilpat mi hunduhan fo ko a di bal. skon (D., G., S.) also skin (S.) ‘clean (up), beautiful’. Also skondu (D.) ‘beautiful’. Can be reduplicated: skon skon (D.), ‘completely’, skʌndu skʌndu ‘very beautiful’ (S.). (S)Ex. am a lo mi di a ze lo fo skon di. (S)Ex. di maŋke di grʌn skin. skop (D., S.) also skʌp (S.) ‘kick’. (S)Ex. an lo skop mi. (S)Ex. skʌp. skrɛk, skrik (D.) ‘frightened’. Ex. am a wes so skrɛk, am a ha fo stokui abini di hašiši. Ex. am a kri skrik, am a lo undu dʌ stul. skrif (D., N., S.) also rit (S.) ‘write’. (S)Ex. skrif en {book}. (S)Ex. . . . a rit ši wif ma. sla(v)un(D.) ‘slave’. Ex. mi sal ma ju slaun. Ex. am a ko fo ko ne slavun. slɛp (D.) also slep (D., G.) ‘drag, carry’. Ex. . . . wama ju ni bin stiki tou a ši nɛk, so slɛp am astʌ ju. Ex. di kabai a slep sini de bus obu sten te am a mata sini. so1 (D., N., S.) also sa, and in trickster speech, šo (D.) ‘so, enough’. Occurs in the compound sodat (D.) ‘so that’. (S)Ex. an a du so ʌnte an no a wit wa fo se wɛran. Ex. sa am a ne am {by} stɛrʌk ɛn se: as ju no wɛl, mi sal ma ju slaun. Ex. wɛni tekoma a lo kri di sla, am a se am: šo, bju šo. so2 (D.) also son (G.) ‘son’. Ex. ham a se: hoso di so a ko, as di mi so, mi sa ha fo nem di so. sok (D.) ‘soft’. Possibly a variant of suči (N.) ‘slowly’ which is reduplicated in suǰi suǰi (D.) ‘very soft, very slowly’. Valls gives soochie-soochies ‘so-so’ but does not identify this as a Negerhollands form. Ex. sa am a brin ši stem me sok. son (M., O., D., G.) also sun (N.) ‘sun’. De Jong gives sun as an English borrowing. Ex. . . . wɛni di son a ka mɛs fal fo lo obu di bɛrgi, di man a ris. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 283 sondak, sondag (D.), sunda (N.), sʌnda (S.) ‘Sunday’. (S)Ex. ju se sʌnda, manda, disinda, wunsda, dʌndʌda, frida, satʌda Ex. mandag, mandak, disʌndag, disʌndak, unsdag, unsdak, dondʌdag, dondʌdak, fridag, fridak, stʌdag, stʌdak, sondag, sondak. sondu (D.) also sondʌ (D., G.) sonder (M., O.) ‘without, unless’, tɛsʌn (D.) ‘between, unless’. Ex. am no ka gi ši kin sondu en man as am kan jit tin patakon brot met twalʌf patakon kasaw me een halʌf kui. Ex. dʌ man a se: ju no kan lo da so; sondʌ ju ha en hut fa duŋku. . . . Ex. ons sa drink tee sonder sukker? Ex. an am no fo gi di flut a en mens tɛsʌn di juŋman wa ko tin i fo ši jet. sopi (M., D., G., V., S.) also supi (D., N., S.), rum (M.) ‘rum’. Occurs in the compound giaubeiɛ-sopi (D.) ‘guavaberry rum’. (S)Ex. ju goi sopi abo di. (S)Ex. mi maŋke en bɛči- en bʌtl supi. Ex. mie gloof, hem hab gue fraej hou rum. sorʌk (D.) also segun (S.) ‘save’. Ex. den di frou a se: “ju ka sorʌk mi lɛf.” (S)Ex. lo frai; got segun ju. soso (M., P.) also susu (D.) ‘free’. Ex. maer die no hab kaes, en tata no keer voor botterham soso. Ex. . . . di fulʌk sini a lo briŋ di ton mil mi di ton faria fo ko gi ons fo susu. sowe(l), suwe, sovel, (D.) ‘so much/many’. Ex. ham a se: sowe fa sinʌ na kan ris en klen ru. Ex. en {hard} gut fo man ha fo dra sowel ladiŋ. Ex. ham a se an sa du suwe frai fu ši fulʌk sendr. Ex. . . . am a ha fo set ne fo plat sovel fadam tou fo rak a hel. . . . spɛl (S.) also spel (D.), spil (S.) ‘play, game’. (S)Ex. sen sɛt ʌbɛni dʌ manskin ɛn sen spɛl. (S)Ex. paso hoso ju spil; ju lo te ju kapʌto. spriŋkl (D.) also sprinl (N.) ‘sprinkle’. Ex. dan spriŋkl ɛn klɛn bitji fin sout abo di. sta (D.) also da, ta, lasta(n) (M., D.), lista (D., S.), liste (S.) ‘leave (behind), allow, also used to introduce a request’. Ex. di difman sini a kuri sta sin hus mi sin jit. Ex. am da sinu a bli ka druŋ. Ex. fadʌ jusiʌs ha sɛ: ta am lo. Ex. am a lasta en venstʌ. Ex. . . . am a kri wɛ, lastan tɛkoma abini di hus. 284 appendix three

(S)Ex. lista mi pasɛ klen biče. (S)Ex. mi a ha en menši,. . . mi frɛn, di regun mi di wɛn a ste ši duku fam bo ši lif liste am nakun, nakun, nakun, nakun. sten (D., G., S.) also stɛn (G., N., S., V.), skɛn (S.), stin (D., S.), ‘stone’. Occurs in the compounds grot ston ‘cliff’ (S.), tendifi, tɛndifi (D.), stɛndifi (G.), ‘stone dove’ and stendot (D.), stɛndot (D., V.) ‘stone dead’. (S)Ex. sen ko abo de sten, an wɛnʌ ju lo a di se, ju pɛk sɛn fam bo di stin. (S)Ex. alma bɛnɛ di hus, hʌndu stɛn, alma bɛnɛ di bus, bo bom alma ʌbit. (S)Ex. sen klen klɛnči, klɛnči skɛn. stɛl (S.) also stil (D.) ‘still’. (S)Ex. stan stɛl. Ex. so di klen juŋ nu a wil hou stil fodima di klen juŋ a ki wa ka giskit aresal. . . . stɛt (D., N., S.) also stet (D.) ‘tail’. Occurs in the compound frakstet (D., V.) ‘skirt tail’ and sajastet (D.) ‘skirt tail’. (S)Ex. ne di puši stɛt. Ex. ham a bin sini han mi fut a di kabai stet ɛn los di kabai de di saban mi sini. stʌk (S.) also stok (D., N.) ‘stick, stalk’. Occurs in the compound rubobstok (D.) ‘rhubarb stalk’, sukustok (N.) ‘sugar cane stalk’. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ mɛ hal senu fo ʌbene sen {hole}, mi te dʌ sten o di stʌk an mi sla am, sla am, sla am, te an dot. Ex. ham a rup dʌ fulʌk sini mi laŋ stok. stibu (D., N., S.) also stibo (D., G.), stuver (O.) ‘money’. (S)Ex. ju no ha ɛntɛn stibu, ju mi poʌ. Ex. ham a gi am ši stibo bini en guŋgu saku. stiko (S.) also stikoi (D.), stikui (D., G.), stokui (D.), stiki (G.) ‘hide, hidden’. (S)Ex. lo stiko di. Ex. sini a ne dʌ mansak, sini a stikoi di. Ex. am a ha en grot dip gat ka {dig} undu gron a da am a ha si sougut ka stikui. Ex. en di a wes wa am a ka stokui da. suk (D., S.), also besuk (M.) ‘look for, intend’. (S)Ex. [and they] sti mi kizin fo lo suk fo mi. Ex. hem sa wees gue blie as ju wil besuk hem. suku (D., V., S.) also suko (N.), sukut (V.), sukker (M.) ‘sugar(cane)’. Occurs in the compounds sukustik (D.) ‘cane field’, sukustok (P., N.) ‘sugarcane’, and sukuwɛrʌk (D.) ‘work associated with sugar production’. (S)Ex. mi suku mi- mi klɛn biči, no muči. Ex. hem le kook sukker? glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 285 swa (S.) also swar (P., G.), swe (D.) ‘heavy’. (S)Ex. {heavy?} mi swa. Ex. am sa gi am di da, fodima a en swe {crop} bi nabo di lan. Ex. kuj sie horn nojt sa bin swar fo him drag. swat (D., N., G., S.) also swart, hau (N.) ‘black/brown’. Occurs in the compound swatkol (D., G., V.) ‘charcoal’ and the noun swatnis (D., G., V.) ‘darkness’. (S)Ex. am mi swat, nen a en blaŋku. swɛm (S.) also zwɛm (D.), zwim (D., N.) ‘swim’. (S)Ex. ju lo swɛm a ze. Ex. . . . wɛni di frou parat a fra di man as am nu kan diŋ bo wɛni ši ta ka ko a am fo drag am a hus, alma wa am a drai am abini di watu lo zwɛm lɛik en patpat,. . . . Ex. alga di fɛs a di ze lo zwim.

ši1 (D., S.) also sji (P., G.), si (O., D.), sie (M.), ži (D.), či (N.) ’third person singular possessive’. Occurs in the reflexive pronoun šisel(f) (D.) ‘him/herself’. (S)Ex. {This} kin a di bɛs kin ši ma ha. Ex. na gut hart mak kabrita sji gat bin nabiti. Ex. fra sini, api si dri ho. Ex. mie meester en sie bruer wil besuk ju. Ex. am a se am lo bak, lo weran a ži ta. ši2 (D., N., S.), aši (S.) ‘side’. Occurs in the compound lanši (D.) ‘alongside’. A variant is found in the compounds reči ‘right side’, seiči (D.) ‘south- side’, and noči (D.) ‘northside’. (S)Ex. lo a di andu ši a di hus. (S)Ex. aši, side, aši dʌ hus. šini (D., S.) also sjini (G.), sni (P., O., D., N., G., S.) ‘cut’. (S)Ex. ju lo šini mi gorogoro. (S)Ex. mi maŋke en nɛf. {it must be sharp} fo sni di pampun. šiši (D., N., S.) also sisi (V., S.) ‘sister’. (S)Ex. an a wandu a lo a en hus en andu hus ape ši šiši a ka trou. (S)Ex. buči{-s} en mi ma sisi{-s}. tai (D.) also had, hart (D.) ‘hard, difficult’. Ex. . . . mi lo wɛrʌk {too} tai. Ex. sini na kan prat had. . . . Ex. am a se am, am nu fo lo hart fodima am mi ful mi pin. tal (D.) also atal (S.) ‘at all’. Reduplicated for emphasis in taltal. Ex. ju no gi mi enten jet tal astumenda tit. (S)Ex. mi no jet senu atal. 286 appendix three tam (D.) also stam (D., S.) ‘stamp, pound’, pʌŋ (S.), pan (N.) ‘pound’. Ex. . . . a du am obu di hagzit, a gi am fetin tam. (S)Ex. stam di. (S)Ex. {we} pʌŋ dʌ laris an {we} dans. tambrin, tamarin (D.) ‘tambourine’. Ex. sini a ha finjol, sini ha gumbe, sini ha tambrin. Ex. bru {lion} a ha en tamarin. tan (D.) also stan (D., S.) ‘stand’. Ex. so wani am a ko, am a tan abiti a dʌ vɛnstʌ. (S)Ex. mi a stan afo ʌm. taphus (P., D., N., G., S.) also tapus (O., S.) ‘town’. Graves (1977) glosses this as the main square of a town. (S)Ex. mi lo sal di mjul fo lo a taphus. (S)Ex. an ha fʌ lo a tapus a di haspitl. tau (S.) also tou (P., D., G.) ‘rope, tendril’. Occurs in the compound batea- tow (P.) ‘yam tendril’. (S)Ex. mi bin di tau a di sal kop. Ex. susakaboom. di mi frai fo ma tou. taul (D., N.), also tabl (S.), taful (D.), taefl (M.), tawul, tavul (D.) ‘table’. Occurs in compound frokostaful (D.) ‘breakfast table’. Ex. en frufru sini a gi am di brotkrom wa a drep fa bo di taul. (S)Ex. lo sik di tabl. Ex. wɛni di lastʌ dak for sin trou, nu di meši a briŋ di twe parat ko du da a di taful fo sinu prat alma wa ka giskit tɛsʌn di twe fan sinu ɛn wa di juŋ man a se di menši. . . . Ex. lastaen sender snie van die rip anas for due no taefl. Ex. am a se, am ka ki twɛnti mi fi man lo jit ront en tawul. Ex. am a ǰis set siself a tavul fo jit. tɛči (D., S.) also tetsi (D.) ‘toe’. (S)Ex. tɛči. Ex. di fi mal wani am a sla si tɛtsi weran, am a bok a gron, a rapo en sten. tɛtɛ (D., S.) also tɛte, titi (S.) ‘suckle, suck (out)’. (S)Ex. ju a tɛtɛ di {bone} senu? (S)Ex. tɛte. (S)Ex. am a maŋke fo titi di kin. tɛki (D.) also stɛki (P., D., N., S.), stɛk (D., S.), stik(i) (D., S.) ‘piece’. Ex. fo ma sɛ pase di wurum kri tɛki sinpiwiri (S)Ex.ju se ju maŋke stɛki fɛrgi mun. (S)Ex. ju du ɛn stɛk {lard} abɛni di. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 287

(S)Ex. ju du stiki brot abɛnɛ di {trap}. (S)Ex. ju fo ne twe stik. tɛmp(ʌ)l (D.) ‘temple’. Ex. wɛni am ha fin ši ma a di tɛmpʌl, ham a fin fadʌ jusiʌs da. Ex. wɛni am a wes aktin ja hou, ši ma a dra am a di tɛmpl. tɛsʌn (D.) also dɛsbi (D., V.) ‘near’; kan (D.) ‘near, against’. Ex. wɛni am a rak tɛsʌn dɛ hus, am ka stop lo spel ši flut. Ex. bru kabrita kuri en andu {distance} wɛran, bli da stan weran lo wak bo bru hon te bru hon ka kri dɛsbi a am. Ex. am a ko kan fo ki wa di be. ti1 (D., G.) also sti (D., G., S.), stif, ste (S.), stier (M., P.), ‘send, steer’. Ex. dan sini a ti lo rup tekoma. (S)Ex. wɛn {they} ha sti mi, mi a lo a bus, lo sɛt. (S)Ex. an se a stif am. (S)Ex. mi a ha en menši,. . . mi frɛn, di regun mi di wɛn a ste ši duku fam bo ši lif liste am nakun, nakun, nakun, nakun. Ex. mie heer ha stier voor mie? ti2 (S.), tit (D., N., G., S.), tid (D.) ‘time’. Occurs in the compound tavɛnitit (D.) ‘evening’. (S)Ex. wa ti di be? (S)Ex. sik ko ʌbo kabai rɛge; bli en tit fo lo. Ex. ɛn tid da ha en noli. tik (D.) also stik, stek (D.) ‘sting, poke (into)’, pok (D.), pʌk (S.) ‘push, poke’. Ex. an am a ha en lusifer, am a hal di, tik di bini ši ma nɛs wapi am lo brum. Ex. am a stik ši han a ši sak. Ex. am nu fo sla di masbondo sinu, wɛni sinu ka stek am. Ex. poshwɛni am a kom it, nu am ka pok fergi abini nu. (S)Ex. pʌk am mi ju stuk. tin (D., S.) also tɛn (N.), tien (P.) ‘ten’. Occurs in the ordinal number tindʌ ‘tenth’ (D.) (S)Ex. sɛs, sɛwun, ak, negun, tin, alʌf, twalʌf. tom, stomp (D.) ‘stump’. Occurs in tompi ‘short’. Ex. am a se: sla di tom abiti wa lo sla ši tetsi so. Ex. dan am a ne ši kapmes fo kap it dʌ stomp wa lo sla ši futu dʌ twe mal. tono (D., G.) also ton (D.) ‘vat, barrel for non-liquids’. Ex. du mi stok bini di tono. Ex. . . . di fulʌk sini a lo briŋ di ton mil mi di ton faria fo ko gi ons fo susu. 288 appendix three toŋ1 (D., G., V.) also tʌŋ (N., S.), tuŋ (N.) ‘tongue’. Ex. am a šini ɛt di nɛgʌn toŋ. (S)Ex. {your} tʌŋ. top (D.) also stop (D.), stʌp (S.) ‘stop’. Ex. wani hunduhan a hopo fo flig, am na top te am a rak bo di galdri. Ex. sinʌ ha stop a di fut fan di klip lo ki bo am. (S)Ex. fo stʌp, fo stʌp senu. trakte (D.) also trakteer (P.) ‘do, preform, deal with’. Ex. bot nu di man sini ka trakte ons so sle. . . . trau (N., S.) also trou (D., G., S.), ‘marry, be engaged’. Occurs in the compound fortrou (D., V.) ‘engaged’. (S)Ex. sen bin trau en laŋ tit. (S)Ex. an a wandu a lo a en hus en andu hus ape ši šiši a ka trou. trɛ, tre (D.), trek (P.) ‘pull (out), dig (up), extract’. Ex. ham a trɛ dʌ grani abiti lef. Ex. sini a tre am fa di tono. Ex. ju {aht to} fo loop na die doctor fo trek die tan na bitte. trɛt (D., V.) also strat (D.) ‘straight’. Ex. am a lo trɛt a ši muma. Ex. ɛf ju drag mi na fort, sɛl lo sla mi en du mi na strat for wɛrʌk. tu2 (M., P., D., S.) also tut (S.) ‘close(d), cover up’. (S)Ex. {dey} ka tu di. (S)Ex. sen ha kaitirɛn nu ka tut. tubu (D.) also tobo (D., V.) ‘tub’. Ex. dʌ watʌtapman du di tubu a gron bo di pit. tundu (S.) also dondu (V.) ‘thunder’. (S)Ex. tundu. twalif (S.) also twalʌf (D., N., S.), twalv (S.), twɛlʌf (D.), twaelf (M.) ‘twelve, noon’. Occurs in the ordinal twalʌfdʌ (D.) ‘twelfth’. (S)Ex. sɛs, sɛwun, akt, negun, tin, alif, twalif. (S)Ex. sɛs, sɛwun, ak, negun, tin, alʌf, twalʌf. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ mi a hopo mi hogo, di a wɛ twalv i. Ex. am a gi am ši twɛlʌf patakon kasaw me ši twɛlʌf patakon brot. Ex. after twaelf. twe (M., D., G., S.), also twɛ (N.) ‘two’. Occurs in the numerals twinti (N.), twintik (D.), twɛnti(k) (D.), twentig (P.) ‘twenty’; twɛskɛliŋ (N.) ‘forty’; in the ordinal numbers twedʌ (D.), tweede (P.); sɛkʌn (S.) ‘second’; and in the compound twe-en-twintik (D.) ‘twenty two’. (S)Ex. en, twe, dri, fi, fɛiv, sɛs, sivun, akt, negun, tin, alif, twalif. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 289 wa (D., G., S.) also awa (D.), wat (O., P., D., N., G.), wʌ, waso (S.) ‘what, which, who, that, and those’. Occurs in the compound interrogatives wagoɛd (G.) ‘what thing’ and (a)wama, wana (D.), wama(k) (G.) ‘why’. (S)Ex. wa ti di be? (S)Ex. wʌ ju lo dra fanda? Ex. am a frag am: hou fru, awa tan lo pin ju? Ex. so dʌ mestʌr ha se: fredʌrik, du wat ju wil mɛt ham. . . . (S)Ex. waso am a nam? waita (D.) also waitʌ (S.) ‘spy upon, watch’. Mrs. Stevens rejected waita. Ex. di klen juŋ a bli a waita am frai. (S)Ex. ɛn mi a sɛt a waitʌ senu. waitʌ senu, te sin a kaba. wak (S.), also wag (M.) ‘wait’. (S)Ex. wak bo mi, en minit; mi lo ko. Ex. wag beetje, mie sa loop praet na mie Meester. waku, wakʌ (D.) ‘wake (up), arise’. Ex. bru kakatɛs a waku. Ex. wɛn am a wakʌ fa slap am a ki intin fulʌk. was (D., N., S.) also waš (N.) ‘wash’. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ ju pik senu fam bo di bom ju was senu. wandu (D., N., S.) also wandʌ (G.) ‘walk’ (n./v.). (S)Ex. an a wandu a lo a en hus en andu hus ape ši šiši a ka trou. watu (D., S.) also watʌ (N.), water (M., O., P., G.) ‘water’. Occurs in the compounds watumɛlan ‘watermelon’ (D.), watepane ‘whip’ (named after the twig of the waterbananne or waterpanne (O.), and watʌtapman (D.) ‘water bearer’. (S)Ex. no hɛt watu. Ex. water kok fo fes, fes no weet. wawa (D., S.) also wargeit, walget, warget (D.), waerheit (M.) ‘true, truth’. (S)Ex. fo wawa? Ex. . . . di got sini mi wargeit a se {by} fa mi han mi grota sa dot. Ex. ham a se: mi mi kwat, wa ju ka prat dʌ walget. Ex. as am maŋke fo ho dʌ warget, am fo ko lo da ta sinu se dʌ wort fo ši hogo. Ex. Mie praet die waerheit. weran (O. P., D., G., S.) also wɛran (G., D., S.), weeraan (O.) ‘again’. (S)Ex. an a se a lo ki mi wɛran, {but} mi noit a ki a weran. wes (O., D., G., S.) also wɛs (D., N., G.,S.), wɛ, wʌ (S.), wis (D., S.) ‘past tense copula’. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ mi a wes klenči. 290 appendix three

(S)Ex. gɛstu mi a wɛs a di doktu. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ mi a hopo mi hogo, di a wɛ twalv i. (S)Ex. wʌ wit. (S)Ex. am a wis en wɛt frau. wɛk (D., G., S.) also wek, wik (S.) ‘week’. (S)Ex. an a lo andu wɛk disinda. Ex. andu wek. (S)Ex. andu wik. {next week}. wɛl (P., D., G., S.) also wil (M., D., G.) ‘be willing, wish, like, love’. (S)Ex. mi a wɛl ɛm muči. Ex. so dʌ mestʌr ha se: fredʌrik, du wat ju wil mɛt ham. . . . wɛnɛ, wɛne (S.) also wɛni (D.), wɛnʌ (G., S.), wɛn (P., D., S.), weni, wini (D.), wen (G.), wani (D., G.) wanʌ (G.), wanneer (P., G.) ‘when’. (S)Ex. wɛnɛ mi hopo mi hogo, sen a ko abɛnɛ fo kam mi {hair}. (S)Ex. wɛne am a dot, mi a skreju. Ex. wɛni am a rak, am a lo a fadʌ jusiʌs hus. (S)Ex. sen ko abo de sten, an wɛnʌ ju lo a di se, ju pɛk sɛn fam bo di stin. (S)Ex. wɛn jamus guri, {they} kuri abo bom. Ex. weni am a {start}, nu am ne ši {flute}. Ex. alga dʌ fulʌk sini a wes bini dʌ bus lo ki wini dʌ got lo lo jit am. Ex. tukantinbla: mi frai fo was ju lif wani ju ha muši fin ht lo ko it it fa ju lif. Ex. mi kik die kabai, wanneer mi caba. wɛnstu (N.) also wɛnstʌ, vɛnstu, vɛnstʌ (D.), venster (M.) ‘window’. Ex. di frufru, wɛni am a wakʌ di aplboom a wes undʌ dʌ wɛnstʌ. Ex. . . . goi am obu di hogis vɛnstu sini ha da. . . . Ex. so wani am a ko, am a tan abiti a dʌ vɛnstʌ. Ex. hopo die venster. wɛruk (N., S.) also wɛrʌk (D., S.), werk (P.), wark (D.) ‘work’. Occurs in the compound wɛrʌkman (D.) ‘worker’. (S)Ex. mi a lo wɛruk {wi} di noli. (S)Ex. mi a wɛrʌk {too hard}. Ex. . . . fordimak we ha werk fo du na plantaj . . . Ex. en klen menši a lo dra ši pupa frokos eke dak wapi ši am lo wark. wɛrʌm (D.) also wɛrm (D., G.) ‘warm, warmth’. Ex. wɛni di ovʌn ǰis bigin fo ko bitji wɛrʌm, a se: bju, mi lo lo abini. Ex. . . . am a bigin so13 ful di wɛrm en bitji het, am a se a fɛrgi; bju. . . .

13 This may be a speech or printing error for /bigin fo ful/ ‘begin to feel’. glossary of variable virgin islands english creole forms 291 wɛt (D., N., G., S.) also wit (D., G., S.) ‘white’. Occurs in the compounds witbatita (S.) ‘Irish potato”, witkatun (D.) ‘white cotton’, and witkatun- bla (D.) ‘white cotton leaf’. (S)Ex. am a wis, en wɛt frau. (S)Ex. wʌ wit. win (D., G., S.) also wɛn (D., N., S.) ‘wind, breath’. Also asɛmtrɛk (G.) ‘breath’. (S)Ex. di win a bigin blas. (S)Ex. mi a ha en menši,. . . mi frɛn, di regun mi di wɛn a ste ši duku fam bo ši lif, liste am nakun, nakun, nakun, nakun. wit (S.) also wet (M., O., P., D., G.), wɛt (D., N.) ‘know, understand.’ (S)Ex. sen na skreju, {so} ju no wit ape sen {be}. Ex. am na a wet dʌ pupa a lo kik am. Ex. am alma di tit wɛt a tekoma a mata di kui. wort (D., G.) also word (D.), wod (V.) ‘word’. Ex. so am a ne bak ši wort, am na maŋke graf mi am. Ex. am a krew it weran lo se dʌ selbu word. wun (D., S.) also won (D.) ‘live’. (S)Ex. am a fra mi: apɛ mi a wun? Ex. ši ma a won a en lan. wunsda (S.) also wonda (N.), unsdag, unsdak (D.) ‘Wednesday’. (S)Ex. ju se sʌnda, manda, disinda, wunsda, dʌndʌda, frida, satʌda. Ex. mandag, mandak, disʌndag, disʌndak, unsdag, unsdak, dondʌdag, dondʌdak, fridag, fridak, stʌdag, stʌdak, sondag, sondak. wurum (D.) also wʌrum (S.) ‘worm’. Ex. sinprwiri: fo klen kriol wa ha wurum. (S)Ex. wʌrum. ja (D., G.) also jar (N.) ‘year’. Ex. wɛni am a wes aktin ja hou, ši ma a dra am a di tɛmpl. jamus (D., G., S.) also jamos (N.), jamʌs (S.) ‘yam’. (S)Ex.wɛn jamus guri, {they} kuri abo bom. (S)Ex. eke dak, am a lo fo ki a di jamʌs lo guri. jellie (M., G.) also jɛn (D., G.), jɛndɛ (G.), jender (M., O., G.), jin(i) (D.) ‘second person plural pronoun’. Mrs. Stevens did not use these forms; they occur infrequently in the narratives collected by de Jong. Ex. jellie almael ha speel? Ex. sinu a se en mi di andu: kontri, jɛn ki en halʌf {cheese}. Ex. wat jender wil drink? Ex. jin juŋ menši mi frai fofluk an ons hou man ha fo bi muši patikla. Ex. den di kiniŋkin a se: huso dʌ bom a fa jini, a jini nʌ kan pik en fa di apl? 292 appendix three jet (P., D., G., S.), also jɛ (S.), jɛt (D., N., G., V., S.), jit (D., G., S.) ‘eat, food, meal’. (S)Ex. mi no jet senu atal. (S)Ex. di pʌpai: mi maŋke kuk di; mi maŋke jɛ di. (S)Ex. mi no jɛt fɛriki. (S)Ex. ɛkɛ frufru, mi ne di kabrita sinu fʌ jit abɛni {the grass piece}. ju (M., O., P., D., G., S.) also jo (N.) ‘second person singular/plural pronoun’. (S)Ex. a ju maŋki. Ex. Ex. as volk ka quaat na joe, sender gie joe makoet voor tap water juŋ (P., D., G., V., S.) also jon (N.), ‘youth (male), boy; young’. Occurs in the compounds juŋkin (D.) ‘son’, juŋman (D., G.) ‘young man’ and in the superlative joŋstʌ (G.) ‘youngest’. (S)Ex. juŋ {that’s the boy}. zɛl (N.) also zeil (D.) ‘sail’. Ex. di kiniŋ a se am, as am kan lo ma en bot wa kan zeil bo di lan, dan am kan ko; am sa gi am ši kin fo trou. BIBLIOGRAPHY

Abutalebi, Jubin and David W. Green. “Bilingual Language Production: The Neurocogni- tion of Language Representation and Control,” Journal of Neurolinguistics 20.3 (2007): 242–275. Abutalebi, Jubin, Marco Tettamanti, and Daniella Perani. “Editorial.” Brain & Language 109.2/3 (2009): 51–54. Adamson, Lilian and Norval Smith. “Productive Derivation as Predicate Reduplication in Sranan.” In Twice as Meaningful: Reduplication in Pidgins, Creoles and Other Contact Lan- guages, edited by Silvia Kowenburg, 83–92. London: Battlebridge Publishing Company. Aikhenvald, Alexandra. Y. “Serial Verb Constructions in Typological Persective.” In Serial Verb Constructions: A Cross-linguistic Typology, edited by Alexandra Y. Aikhenvald and R.M.W. Dixon., 1–68. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006. Akoma, Chiji. “Folklore and the African-Caribbean Narrative Imagination: The Examples of Roy Heath,” Research in African Literatures 29.3 (1998): 82–97. Algeo, John. “The Origins of Southern American English.” In English in the Southern United States, edited by Steven J. Nagel and Sara L. Sanders, 1–16. Cambridge: Cambridge Uni- versity Press, 2003. Allen, Theodore W. “Summary of the Argument of the Invention of the White Race.” Cul- tural Logic: An Electronic Journal of Marxist Theory and Practice (1998). Accessed January 27, 2010. http://clogic.eserver.org/1-2/allen.html. Alleyne, Mervyn C. “Acculturation and the Cultural Matrix of Creolization.” In Pidginiza- tion and Creolization of Languages, edited by Dell Hymes, 169–186. Cambridge: Cam- bridge University Press, 1971. ——. “A Linguistic Perspective on the Caribbean.” In Caribbean Contours, edited by Sidney Wilfred Price, 175–179. Baltimore: John’s Hopkins University Press, 1985. ——. Comparative Afro-American. Ann Arbor, MI: Karoma Publishers, Inc., 1980. ——. Construction and Representation of Race and Ethnicity in the Caribbean and the World. Kingston: University of the West Indies Press, 2005. ——. “From ‘Then’ to ‘Now’: Interrogating the ‘Creole’ Concept.” A Paper presented at the 18th Biennial Meeting of the Society for Caribbean Linguistics, Barbados, 2010. ——. Theoretical Orientations in Creole Studies. Mona, Jamaica: The Language Laboratory of the University of the West Indies, 1982. Allsopp, Richard. Dictionary of Caribbean English Usage. Oxford: Oxford Univeristy Press, 1996. Ameka, Felix K. and Anneke Breedveld. “Areal Cultural Scripts for Social Interaction in West African Communities.” Intercultural Pragmatics 1–2 (2004): 167–187. Ameka, Felix K. “Ewe Serial Verb Constructions in Their Grammatical Context.” In Serial Verb Constructions: A Cross-linguistic Typology, edited by by Alexandra Y. Aikhenvald and R.M.W. Dixon, 124–143. NY: Oxford, 2006. Andersen, Roger (Ed). Pidginization and Creolization as Language Acquisition. Rowley, MA: Newbury House Publishers, Inc., 1983. Anderson, Janet I. “The Markedness Differential Hypothesis and Syllable Structure Diffi- culty.” In Interlanguage Phonology: The Acquisition of a Second Language Sound System, edited by Georgette Ioup and Steven Weinberger, 279–291. Cambridge, MA: Newbury House Publishers, 1987. Anonymous. Personal Slavery Established by the Sufferages of Custom and Right Reason. Being a full answer to the gloomy and visionary reveries, of all the fanatical and enthusi- astic writers on that subject. Philadelphia, 1773. 294 bibliography

Anquandah, James. Rediscovering Ghana’s Past. Accra/Essex: Sedco Publishing Limited and Longman Group Limited, 1982. Arends, Jacques. “Review of The Birth of African-American Culture: An Anthropological Per- spective.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 11.1 (1996): 163–167. ——. “Review of Historie der Caribischen Inseln Sanct Thomas, Sanct Crux und Sanct Jan, insbesondere der dasigen Neger und der Mission der evangelischen Brüder unter denselben. Erster Teil.” By Christian Georg Andreas Oldendorp. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 19.1 (2004): 171–224. ——. “Social Stratification and Network Relations in the Formation of Sranan.” In Creoliza- tion and Contact, edited by Norval Smith and Tonjes Veenstra, 291–307. Amsterdam/ Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2001. ——. (1993). “Towards a Gradulist Model of Creolization. In Atlantic meets Pacific, edited by Francis Byrne and John Holm, 371–380. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Arredondo, Patricia. “Multicultural Perspectives in Scholarship—Essential to Advancing Interdisciplinarity.” A paper presented at Understanding Differences that Matter: Diver- sity Research at Auburn University, Auburn, AL, 2008. Bâ, A. Hampaté. “The Living Tradition.” In General History of Africa: Methodology and Afri- can Prehistory, edited by Joseph Ki-Zerbo, 166–205. Paris/London: UNESCO/Heineman, 1981. Baa, Enid. “The Brandenburgers at St. Thomas or the Bordeaux Plantation 1685–1973.” A paper presented at the 10th Conference of Caribbean Historians, St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands, ms, 1978. Backus, Ad. “Mixed Native Languages: A Challenge to the Monolithic View of Language.” Topics in Language Disorders 19.4 (1999): 11–22. Bailey, Beryl Loftman. Jamaican Creole Syntax: A Transformational Approach. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1966. Bailey, Charles-James N. “Old and New Views on Language History and Language Rela- tionships.” In Kommunikationstheoretische Grundlagen des Sprachwandels, edited by Helmut Lüdtke, 139–181. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1980. Baker, Philip. From Contact to Creole and Beyond. London: University of Westminster Press, 1995. ——. “Assessing the African Contribution to French-Based Creoles.” In Africanisms in Afro-American Language Varieties, edited by Salikoko S. Mufwene with Nancy Condon, 123–55. Athens/London, GA: University of Georgia Press, 1993. ——. “Investigating the Origin and Diffusion of Shared Features Among the Atlantic Eng- lish Creoles.” In St. Kitts and the Atlantic Creoles: The Texts of Samuel Augustus Mathews in Perspective, edited by Philip Baker and Adrienne A. Bruyn, 315–364. London: Univer- sity of Westminster Press, 1998. ——. “Off Target.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Language 5.1 (1990): 107–119. ——. “Towards a Social History of Mauritian Creole.” B. Phil. dissertation, University of York, 1976. Baker, Philip and Lise Winer. “Separating the Wheat from the Chaff[:] How Far Can We Rely on Old Pidgin and Creole Texts?” In St. Kitts and the Atlantic Creoles: The Texts of Samuel Augustus Mathews in Perspective, edited by Philip Baker and Adrienne A. Bruyn, 103–122. London: University of Westminster Press, 1998. Bakker, Peter, Aymeric Daval-Markussen, Mikael Parkvall, and Ingo Plag. “Creoles are Typologically Distinct from Non-creoles.” In Creoles and Typology: Special Issue of Jour- nal of Creole and Pidgin Languages 26.1 (2011): 5–42. Bardovi-Harlig, Kathleen. “On the Role of Formulas in the Acquisition of L2 Pragmatics.” In Pragmatics and Language Learning, edited by Kathleen Bardovi-Harlig, J. César Félix- Brasdefer, and Alwiya S. Omar. Vol. 11, 1–28. Honolulu: University of Hawaii, National Foreign Language Resource Center, 2006. Barulin, Aleksandr. Kategorija çisla v. Mestoimenijx. Moskow: MGU, 1980. bibliography 295

Baugh, John. “Some Implications for Linguistic Science.” In Language in the Socio-Cultural Context, edited by Frederick J. Newmeyer, 64–74. NY: Cambridge University Press, 1988. Becker, Al. “Language and Languaging.” Language and Communication 11.1 (1991): 33–35. Beekman, Daniel. A voyage to and from the island of Borneo, in the East-Indies. With a description of the said island: . . . Together with the re-establishment of the English trade there, an. 1714, . . . Also a description of the islands of Canary, Cape Verd, Java, Madura. London: printed for T. Warner, and J. Batley, 1718. Bendyshe, T. “Translation of Bernier’s Nouvelle Division de la Terre par les Différentes Espèces ou Races qui l’habitent.” In Memoirs Read Before the Anthropological Society of London, 1, 360–364. London: Trübner and Co., 1864. Original work published in 1684. Berlin, Ira and Philip D. Morgan. “Introduction: Labor and the Shaping of Slave Life in the Americas.” In Cultivation and Culture: Labor and the Shaping of Slave Life in the Americas, edited by Ira Berlin, Philip D. Morgan, 1–48. Charlottesville, VA/London: University of Virginia Press, 1993. Berry, Diana Ramey. Swing the Sickle for the Harvest is Ripe: Gender and Slavery in Antebel- lum Georgia. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2007. Berry, John W. “Acculturation as Varieties of Adaption.” In Acculturation: Theory, Models, and Some New Findings, edited by Amado M. Padilla, 9–25. Bolder, CO: Westview Press, 1980. Bertoncini, Elena. “A Tentative Frequency List of Swahili Words.” Annali dell’Istituto Orien- tale di Napoli 33.23 (1973): 297–363. Bertrand-Bocandé, M. “De la langue créole de la Guinée Portuguese ou Sénégambie méri- dionale.” Bulletin de la Société de Géographic de Paris, 3e série 12 (1949): 57–93. Bialystok, Ellen and Kenji Hakuta. “Confounded Age: Linguistic and Cognitive Factors in Age Differences for Second Language Acquisition.” In Second Language Acquisition and the Critical Period Hypothesis, edited by David Birdsong, 151–181. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1999. Bialystok, Ellen, Fergus I.M. Craik, Raymond Klein, and Mythili Viswanathan. “Bilingual- ism, Aging, and Cognitive Control: Evidence from the Simon task.” Psychology and Aging 19.2 (2004): 290–303. Bialystok, Ellen. Bilingualism in Development. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001. ——. “The Structure of Age: In Search of Barriers to Second Language Acquisition.” Second Language Research 13.2 (1997): 116–137. Bickerstaffe, Isaac. The Padlock: A Comic Opera in Two Acts. NY: Charles Willey, 1925. Bickerton, Derek. Roots of Language. Ann Arbor, MI: Karoma Publishers, Inc., 1981. Birdsong, David. “Age and Second Language Acquisition and Processing: A Selective Review.” Language Learning 56.1 (2006): 9–49. Blackburn, Robin. The Making of New World Slavery: From the Baroque to the Modern, 1492–1800. London/NY: Verso, 1997. Block, David. The Social Turn in Second Language Acquisition. Edinburgh: Edinburgh Uni- versity Press, 2003. Bloomfield, Leonard. Language. NY: Henry Holt, 1933. Blumenbach, Johann Friedrich, Thomas Bendyshe, Karl Friedrich Heinrich Marx, Pierre Flourens, Rudolph Wagner, and John Hunter. The Anthropological Treatises of Johann Friedrich Blumenbach . . .: With Memoirs of Him by Marx and Flourens and an Account of His Anthropological Museum by R. Wagner, and the Inaugural Dissertation of John Hunter, on the Varieties of Man. London: Longman, Green, Longman, Roberts, and Green, for the Anthropological Society, 1865. Bobda, Augustin Simo and Innocent Fasse Mbouya. “Revisiting Some Linguistic Concepts and Beliefs in the Light of the Sociolinguistic Situation of Cameroon.” In Proceedings of the 4th International Symposium on Bilingualism, edited by James Cohen, Kara T. McAl- ister, Kellie Rolstad, and Jeff MacSwan, 2122–2132. Somerville: Cascadilla Press, 2005. 296 bibliography

Bongaerts, Theo. “Ultimate Attainment in L2 Production: The Case of Very Advanced Late L2 Learners.” In Second Language Acquisition and the Critical Period Hypothesis, edited by David Birdsong, 133–159. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 1999. Booij, Geert. “Inherent Versus Contextual Inflection and the Split Morphology Hypoth- esis.” Accessed April 21, 2011. http://www.hum2.leidenuniv.nl/booijge/pdf/inherent%20 and%20contextual%20inflection%20YoM.pdf. Bosch, G.B. “Reizen in West Indië en door een gedeelte van Zuid- en Noord-Amerika,” door G.B. Bosch, predikant te Curaçao. Utrecht, 1829–1836. Bosher, Susan. “Language Change and Cultural Identity: A Study of Hmong Students at the Postsecondary Level.” TESOL Quarterly 31.3 (1977): 593–603. Bourdieu, Pierre. “The Economies of Linguistic Exchanges.” Social Sciences Information 16.6 (1977): 645–668. Bowden, Harriet Wood, Christina Sanz, and Catherine A. Stafford. “Individual Differences, Age, Sex, Working Memory and Prior Knowledge.” In Mind and Context in Adult Second Language Acquisition: Method, Theory, and Practice, edited by Christina Sanz, 105–140. Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 2005. Boyer, William C. America’s Virgin Islands: A History of Human Rights and Wrongs. Dur- ham, NC: Carolina Academic Press, 2010. Braidi, Susan. “Considering the Role of Interaction and Input in Second Language Acquisi- tion.” Language Learning 45.1 (1995): 141–175. Braun, Maria. World-Formation and Creolization: The Case of Early Sranan. Türbingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag, 2009. Brinton, Geert. Races and Peoples: Lectures on the Science of Ethnography. NY: N.D.C. Hodges, 1890. Brooks, David. C. The Linguistic Conquest of Spanish America: First-Contact Interpreters and Translator Acquisition Strategy as Primary Cause of Military Conquest, 1492–1565. Ph.D. dissertation, Auburn University, 2001. Brooks, George E. Landlords and Strangers: Ecology, Society, and Trade in Western Africa. 1000–1630. Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993. Broselow, Ellen. “An Investigation of Transfer in Second Language Phonology.” Interna- tional Review of Applied Linguistics 22.4 (1984): 253–269. Brown, Penelope and Steven C. Levinson. Politeness: Some Universals in Language Usage. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987. Brown, Soi-Daniel W. “From the Tongues of Africa: A Partial Translation of Oldendorp’s Interviews.” Plantation Society 2.1 (1983): 37–61. Bruyn, Adrian. Grammaticalization in Creoles. The Development of Determiners and Rela- tive Clauses in Sranan. Amsterdam: Institute for Functional Research into Language and Language Use, 1995. Bruyn, Adrian A. and Tonjes Veenstra. “The Creolization of Dutch.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 8.1 (1993): 20–80. Buccini, Anthony F. The Dialect Origins of New Netherlands Dutch. ms, 1994. Bucholtz, Mary A. and Kira Hall. “Identity and Interaction: A Sociocultural Linguistic Approach.” Discourse Studies 7.4/5 (2005): 585–614. Bybee, Joan A. and Paul Hooper. Frequency and the Emergence of Linguistic Structure. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2001. Byrne, Francis. “Creole Verb Serialization: Transfer or Spontaneity?” In Current Issues in Second Language Acquisition and Development, edited by Carol Blackshire-Belay, 47–74. University Press of America, Inc., 1994. Cahoon, Benjamin M. U.S. Virgin Islands. 2000–2007. Accessed March 3, 2007. http://www .worldstatesmen.org/Virgin_Islands.html. Cameron, Deborah. “Gender Issues in Language Change.” Annual Review of Applied Lin- guistics 23 (2003): 187–201. Carretta, Vincent. Equiano, the African: Biography of a Self-Made Man. Athens, GA: Univer- sity of Georgia Press, 2005. bibliography 297

Carrington, Lawrence D. “Creole Space—a Rich Sample of Competence.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Studies 8.1 (1993): 227–236. ——. “The Substance of Creole Studies.” In Pidgin and Creole Languages: Essays in Memory of John E. Reinecke, edited by Glenn G. Gilbert, 77–92. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1987. Carstens, Johann Lorentz. General Description of the Danish American or West Indian Islands. In The Kamina Folk: Slavery and Slave Live in the Danish West Indies, edited by Arnold R. Highfield and George F. Tyson, 1–17. St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands: The Virgin Islands Humanities Council, 1994. ——. J. L. Carstens’ St. Thomas in Early Danish Times: A General Description of All the Dan- ish, American or West Indian Islands, edited and translated by Arnold R. Highfield. St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands: The Virgin Islands Humanities Council, 1997. Cassidy, Frederic Gomes and Robert B. Le Page (Eds.). Dictionary of Jamaican English, 2nd edition. Kingston: University of the West Indies Press, 2002. Cassidy, Frederic Gomes. “The Early PC Scene—Some Historical Notes.” A paper presented at the 10th Biennial Meeting of the Society for Caribbean Linguistics, Greater Georgetown, Guyana, 1994. Cenoz, Jasone. “The Additive Effect of Bilingualism on Third Language Acquisition: A Review.” International Journal of Bilingualism 7.1 (2003): 71–89. Chambers, Douglas B. “‘He is an African but Speaks Plain’: Historical Creolization in Eigh- teenth-Century Virginia.” In The African Diaspora, edited by Alusine Jalloh and Stephen E. Maizlish, 100–133. College Station, TX: Texas A & M University Press, 1996. Chambers, J.K. Sociolinguistic Theory: Linguistic Variation and its Social Significance. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing Ltd., 2003. Chaudenson, Robert. La Créolisation: Théorie, Applications, Implications. Paris: L’Harmattan, 2003. ——. Les Creoles Francais. Paris: Nathan, 1979. Childs, Tucker F. An Introduction to African Languages. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2003. Christaller, Reverand J.G. Dictionary of the Asante and Fante Language Called Tshi (Twi), 2nd edition. Basel: Bawel Evangelical Missionary Society, 1933. Original work published in 1875. Christensen, Jørgen Bach. Kolonisamfundet på St. Croix I sidste halvdel af det 18. Arhun- drede, me særlligt Henblik paa aristokratiet blandt palntageejerne. Cand., mag. dissertation. Aarhus University, 1978. Christie, Pauline. “In Search of the Boundaries of Caribbean Creoles.” In Studies in Carib- bean Language, edited by Lawrence D. Carrington, in collaboration with Dennis Craig and Ramon Todd Dandaré, 13–22. St. Augustine, Trinidad: Society for Caribbean Lin- guistics, 1983. ——. “Noun Phrases in Dominican Creole.” A paper presented at the 9th Biennial Meeting of the Society for Caribbean Linguistics Barbados, ms, 1992. Chumbow, Beban Sammy. “Foreign Language Learning in a Multilingual Setting: The Pre- dictability of ‘The Mother Tongue Effect’.” International Review of Applied Linguistics 22.4 (1984): 287–296. Clarke, Sandra. “Linguistic Variation in the Non-stratified Context.” In Methods in Dialectol- ogy, edited by Alan R. Thomas, 684–699. Clevedon, PA: Multilingual Matters, 1988. ——. “Dialect Mixing and Linguistic Variation in a Non-overtly Stratified Society.” In Vari- ation in Language: NWAV-XV at Stanford, edited by Keith M. Dening, Sharon Inkelas, Faye McNair-Knox, and John Rickford, 74–85. Palo Alto, CA: Department of Linguistics, Stanford University, 1987 Clements, G.N. “Phonology.” In African Languages: An Introduction, edited by Bernard Heine and Derek Nurse, 123–160. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Coelho, Francisco de Lemos. “Descrição do costa da Guiné de Cabo Verde até à Serra Leoa com todas Ilhas e Rios que os Brancos navegam.” In Duas Descrições Seiscentistas de 298 bibliography

Guiné, edited by Damião Peres, 3–88. Lisboa: Academia Portuguesa de História, 1953. Original work published in 1684. Collins, James. “Our Ideologies and Theirs.” In Language Ideologies: Practice and Theory, edited by Kathryn A. Woolard, Paul V. Kroskrity, and Bambie B. Schieffelin, 256–270. NY: Oxford University Press, 1998. Condillac, Abbé Etienne Bonnot de. Essay on the Origin of Human Knowledge. Translated by T. Nugent. London, 1756. Conrad, Robert Edgar (Ed.). Children of God’s Fire: A Documentary History of Black Slavery in Brazil. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983. Cooley, Marianne. “An Early Representation of African-American English.” In Language Variation in the South Revisited, edited by Thomas Nunnally, Robin Sabino, and Cynthia Bernstein, 51–58. Tuscaloosa, AL: University of Alabama Press, 1997. Costanzo, Angelo. The Interesting Narrative of Olaudah Equiano. NY: Broadview Literary Texts, 2001. Cotto, Lourdes Gonzáles, Marisol Joseph Haynes, Aida Vergne, and Vanessa Austin. “A Crit- ical View of Maroonage: The Roles of Marginalized Peoples in the Emergence of Carib- bean Creole Languages and Associated Genres of Popular Culture.” A paper presented at the 18th Biennial Meeting of the Society of Caribbean Linguistics, Barbados, 2010. Coulmas, Florian. Sociolinguistics: The Study of Speaker’s Choices. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. Coupland, Nikolas. “The Delicate Constitution of Identity in Face-to-Face Accommoda- tion: A Response to Trudgill,” Language in Society 32.2 (2008): 267–270. Creissels, Denis. “Typology.” In African Languages: An Introduction, edited by Bernard Heine and Derek Nurse, 231–258. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Crowley, Malcom and Daniel P. Mannix. “The Middle Passage.” In The Atlantic Slave Trade, edited by David Northrup, 99–112. Lexington, MA: D.C. Heath and Company, 1994. Cutler, Cecilia. “Yorkville Crossing: White Teens, Hip Hop, and African American English.” Journal of Sociolinguistics 3.4 (1999): 428–442. Dalby, David A. and P.E.H. Hair. “A Further Note on the Mina Vocabulary of 1479–80.” Journal of West African Languages 5.2 (1968): 129–131. Daniel, Michael and Edith A. Moravcsik. “The Associative Plural.” In The World Atlas of Language Structures Online, Munich: Max Planck Digital Library, edited by Martin Haspelmath, Matthew S. Dryer, David Gil, and Bernard Comrie, Chapter 36. 2008. Accessed September 3, 2010. http://wals.info/feature/36. D’Costa, Jean and Barbara Lalla. Voices in Exile: Jamaican Texts of the 18th and 19th Centu- ries. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1989. De Booy, Theodoor and John T. Faris. The Virgin Islands: Our New Possessions and the British Islands. West Port, CN: Negro Universities Press, 1979. Original work published in 1918. Debrunner, H. “Notable Danish Chaplains on the Gold Coast.” Transactions of the Gold Coast and Togoland (later Ghana) Historical Society 2.1 (1956): 13–30. Defoe, Daniel. An Essay on Projects. eBooks@adelaide, n.d. Accessed September 28, 2008. http://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/d/defoe/daniel/d31es/part16.html. de Graff, Michel. Language Creation and Language Change. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1999. deJongh, R. and A.I.A. Gjessing. Fort Christian Historical Structures Report. St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands: Department of Conservation and Cultural Affairs, 1982. de Jong, Jan Petrus Benjamin de Josselin. Het Huidige Negerhollandsch (Texten en woorden- lijst). Amsterdam: Koninklijke Akademie van Wetenschappen te Amsterdam, 1926. ——. Het Negerhollandsch van St. Thomas en St. Jan. Amsterdam: North Holland, 1924. de Klein, Christa. “Negerhollands (Dutch Creole).” In Comparative Creole Syntax: Paral- lel Outlines of 18 Creole Grammars, edited by John Holm and Peter L. Patrick, 255–272. London: Battlebridge Publications, 2007. bibliography 299 de Marees, Pieter. Description and Historical Account of the Gold Kingdom of Guinea, edited and translated by Albert van Dantzg and Adam Jones. Oxford: Published for British Academy by Oxford University Press, 1987. Original work published in 1602. den Besten, Hans. “Associative DPs.” In Linguistics in the Netherlands 1996, edited Crit Cre- mers and Marcel den Dikken, 13–24. Amsterdam: Benjamins, 1996. ——. “Review of Einführung in Geschichte und Struktur des Afrikaans.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Studies 2.1 (1987): 67–92. ——. “The Complex Ancestry of the Afrikaans Associative Constructions.” In Taalland- skap. Huidigungsbundel vir Christovan Rensburg, edited by Adelia Carstens and Heinrich Greebe, 49–58. Pretoria: Van Schaik, 2001. den Besten, Hans and Hein van der Voort. “Negerhollands and the Atlantic English Creoles: Comparative Remarks.” In St Kitts and the Atlantic Creoles: The Texts of Samuel Augustus Mathews in Perspective, edited by Philip Baker and Adrienne A. Bruyn, 387–418. London: Battlebridge Publications, 1999. den Besten, Hans, Pieter Muysken, Cefas van Rossem, Pieter Stein, and Hein van der Voort. “Negerhollands[:] An Introduction.” In Die Creole Taal, edited by Cefas van Rossem and Hein van der Voort, 1–44. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 1996. de Pommegorge, Pruneau. Description de la Nigritie. Amsterdam, 1789. De Rochefort, Charles. Histoire Naturelle & Morale des Iles Antilles de l’Amerique. Rotter- dam, 1658. Deutscher, Guy. The Unfolding of Language: An Evolutionary Tour of Mankind’s Greatest Invention. NY: Henry Holt and Company, 2005. de Zurara, Gomes Eanes. “Crónica do Descobrimento e Conquista da Guiné.” In Chronica do Conde, vol 3, edited by D.D. Menezes, 1793. Original work published in 1453. Diaz, Rafel M. “The Impact of Bilingualism on Cognitive Development.” Review of Research in Education 10 (1983): 23–54. ——. “The Intellectual Power of Bilingualism.” Eric Resources in Education. 1985. Accessed May 9, 2009. http://www.eric.ed.gov/ERICWebPortal. Dixon, R.M.W. “Serial Verb Constructions: Conspectus and Coda.” In Serial Verb Construc- tions: A Cross-linguistic Typology, edited by Alexandra Y. Aikhenvald and R.M.W. Dixon, 338–350. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006. Do Couto, Hildo Honório. “The Genesis of Portuguese Creole in Africa.” In Atlantic Meets Pacific, Francis Byrne and John Holm, 381–389. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benja- mins Publishing Company, 1993. Dookhan, Isaac. A History of the Virgin Islands of the United States. St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands: Caribbean Universities Press for College of the Virgin Islands, 1994. Original work published in 1974. Dorian, Nancy C. Investigating Variation: The Effects of Social Organization and Social Set- ting. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. ——. “Western Languages and Small-Language Prospects.” In Endangered Languages: Language Loss and Community Response, edited by Lenore A. Grenoble and Lindsay J. Whaley, 3–21. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. Dörnyei, Z. and Richard Schmidt. Motivation & Second Language Acquisition. Honolulu: University of Hawaii at Manoa, Second Language Teaching & Curriculum Center, 2001. Droixhe, Daniel. “On the Origins of Historical Linguistics: Materials and Proposals for the Italian Case.” In Historical Roots of Linguistic Theories, edited by Lia Formigari and Daniele Gambarara, 11–29. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 1995. Dryer, Matthew S. “Order of Subject, Object and Verb.” In The World Atlas of Language Structures Online, Munich: Max Planck Digital Library, edited by Martin Haspelmath, Matthew S. Dryer, David Gil, and Bernard Comrie, Chapter 81. 2008.Accessed August 27, 2010. http://wals.info/feature/81. Du Tertre, Jean Baptiste. Histoire General des Antilles habitees par les Francois. Paris: chez Thomas Iolly, 1667–71. 300 bibliography

Dyhr, Sebastian Adorjan. “Appendix A. Proverbs.” 2001. Accessed February 3, 2008. . ——. “Grammatik over det kreolsproget sprog af Joachim Melchior Magens i en lingvis- tisk og historisk kontest.” 2001. Accessed 11 May, 2007. http://home6.inet.tele.dk/sadyhr/ Opgaver/Speciale/1kap.pdf. Eckert, Penny. Jocks and Burnouts. NY: Teachers College Press, 1989. ——. Language Variation as Social Practice. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishers, 2000. Eckman, Fred R. “Markedness and the Contrastive Analysis Hypothesis.” Language Learn- ing 27.2 (1977): 15–330. ——. “On Predicting Phonology Difficulty in Second Language Acquisition.” Studies in Sec- ond Language Acquisition 4.1 (1981): 18–30. ——. “Typological Markedness and Second Language Phonology.” In Phonology and Sec- ond Language Acquisition, edited by Jette G.S. Edwards and Mary L. Zampini, 95–115. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2008. Edwards, Walter. “The Variable Persistence of Southern Vernacular Sounds in the Speech of Inner-city Black Detroiters.” In Language Variation in the South Revisited, Thomas Nunnally, Robin Sabino, and Cynthia Bernstein, 76–86. Tuscaloosa, AL: University of Alabama Press, 1997. ——. “Morphosyntactic Acculturation at the Rural/Urban Interface in Guyana.” American Speech 65.2 (1990): 99–113. Eersel, Christian H. “Stedman’s Sranan—Notes and Queries.” A paper presented at the 5th Biennial Meeting of the Society for Caribbean Linguistics, Mona, Jamaica, ms, 1984. Elbow, Peter. “Forward.” In Dialects, Englishes, Creoles, and Education edited by Shondel J. Nero, x–xv. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2006. Ellis, Nick C. “Cognitive Perspectives on SLA: The Associative-cognitive CREED.” AILA Review 19.1 (2006): 100–121. ——. “Frequency Effects in Language Processing.” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 24.2 (2002): 143–188. Ellis, R. and X. He. “The Roles of Modified Input and Output in the Incidental Acquisition of Words Meanings.” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 21.2 (1999): 285–301. Eltis, Daniel and David Richardson. “West Africa and the Transatlantic Slave Trade: New Evidence of Long-Run Trends.” In Routes to Slavery: Direction, Ethnicity and Mortality in the Atlantic Slave Trade, edited by Daniel Eltis and David Richardson, 16–35. London/ Portland: Frank Cass, 1997. Eltis, Daniel, Stephen Behrendt, David Richardson, and Herbert Klein. The Trans-Atlantic Slave trade: The W.E.B. Dubois database on CD-ROM. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Eltis, David. “A Brief Overview of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade.” Voyages: The Trans- Atlantic Slave Trade Database. 2007. Accessed February 16, 2011. http://www.slavevoyages .org/tast/assessment/essays-intro-01.faces. Ely, Christopher M. “An Analysis of Discomfort, Risktaking, Sociability, and Motivation in the L2 Classroom.” Language Learning 36.1 (1986): 1–25. Equiano, Olaudah. Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa, the African Written by Himself. London: Printed for and sold by the author [and 12 others], 1789. Ericsson, K. Anders, Ralf Th. Krampe, and Clemens Tescher-Romer. “The Role of Deliberate Practice in the Acquisition of Expert Performance.” Psychological Review 100.3 (1993): 363–406. Eze, Emanuel C. “Hume, Race and Human Nature.” Journal of the History of Ideas 61.4 (2000): 691–698. Fage, J.D. “A Comment on Duarte Pacheco Pereira’s Account of the Lower Guinea Coast- lands.” In Esmeraaldo de Situ Orbis. History in Africa 7 (1980): 47–80. ——. “The Development of African Historiography.” In General History of Africa I: Meth- odology and African Prehistory, edited by J. Ki-Zerbo, 25–42. Paris: Unesco and London: Heineman, 1981. bibliography 301

Faraclas, Nicholas. “From Old Guinea to Papua New Guinea II: Tracing Niger-Congo Influ- ence in the Devlopment of Nigerian Pidgin.” Paper presented at the 20th African Linguis- tic Conference, University of Illinois, 1989. Faraclas, Nicholas, Candida Gonzales Lopez, Rhoda Arindell, Micah Corum, Pier Angeli LeCompte, Jean Ourdy Pierre and Marta Viada. “First Things First: Sociétes de Cohabita- tion and the Question of Agency in the Process of Creolization. Abstract. 2008. Accessed September 1, 2008. http://www.mona.uwi.edu/dllp/spcl/Past%20Conferences/2008%20 Cayenne.pdf. Feagin, Crawford. “The African Contribution to Southern States English.” In Language in the South Revisited, edited by Thomas Nunnally, and Robin Sabino, and Cynthia Bern- stein, 123–139. Tuscaloosa, AL: University of Alabama Press, 1997b. ——. “The Role of Self-identification in Diverging Grammars,” A paper presented at the meeting of the Linguistic Society of America, Chicago, ms, 1997a. ——. “Vowel Shifting in the Southern States.” In English in the Southern United States, edited by Stephen J. Nagle and Sara L. Sanders, 126–140. Cambridge: Cambridge Uni- versity Press, 2003. Feinberg, Harvey M. “Africans and Europeans in West Africa: Elminans and Dutchmen on the Gold Coast During the Eighteenth Century.” Transactions of the American Philo- sophical Society 79.7 (1989): 2–47. Ferguson, Charles A. “Absence of Copula and the Notion of Simplicity: A Study of Normal Speech, Baby Talk, Foreigner Talk and Pidgins.” In Talking to Children, edited by Cath- erine Elizabeth Snow and Charles A. Ferguson, 141–150. Cambridge: Cambridge Univer- sity Press, 1971. ——. “Fricatives in Child Language Acquisition.” In Proceedings of the 11th International Congress of Linguistics, edited by Luigi Heilmann, 647–664. Bologna: Societa Editrice il Mulino, 1974. Ferguson, Charles A. and Charles E. DeBose. “Simplified Registers, Broken Languages, and Pidginization.” In Pidgin and Creole Linguistics, edited by Albert Valdman, 99–125. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1977. Firth, Alan and Johannes Wagner. “On Discourse, Communication and (Some) Fundamen- tal Concepts in SLA Research.” The Modern Language Journal 81.3 (1997): 285–300. Flege, James, G. Yeni-Komshian, and S. Liu. “Age Constraints on Second-Language Acquisi- tion.” Journal of Memory and Language 41.1 (1999): 78–104. Flege, James G. and Richard D. Davidian. “Transfer and Developmental Processes in Adult Foreign Langauge Speech Production.” Applied Psycholinguistics 5.4 (1984): 323–347. Fordham, Signithia and Ogbu John U. “Black Student’s School Success: Coping with the ‘burden of acting white.’” The Urban Review 18.3 (1986): 176–206. Fought, Carmen. Language and Ethnicity. Cambidge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Fox-Weber, C. and Helen J. Neville. “Functional Neural Subsystem Are Differentially Affected by Delays in Second Language Immersion: ERP and Behavioral Evidence in Bilinguals.” In Second Language Acquisition and the Critical Period Hypothesis, edited by David Birdsong, 23–38. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 1999. Frant Hecht, Barbara. “The Acquisition of a Second Language Phonology: Interaction of Transfer and Developmental Factors.” Applied Linguistics 3.4 (1982): 313–328. Fridland, Valerie. “Network Strength and the Realization of the Southern Vowel Shift Among African Americans in Memphis, Tennessee.” American Speech 78.1 (2003): 3–30. Fridland, Valerie and Kathy Bartlett. “Southern or Rural? The Social Perception of Regional Vowel Distinctions.” Southern Journal of Linguistics 3.1 (2007): 38–62. Fries, Adelaide L. and Kenneth J. Pfohl. The Moravian Church: Yesterday and Today. Raleigh, NC: Edwards and Broughton Company, 1926. Froger, François. A relation of a voyage made in the years 1695, 1696, and 1697, on the coasts of Africa, Streights of Magellan, Brasil, Cayenna, and the Antilles, by a Squadron of French men of war under the command of M. De Gennes illustrated with divers strange figures, drawn to life. London: Printed for M. Gillyflower, W. Freeman, M. Wotton, J. Walthoe, and R. Parker . . ., 1698. 302 bibliography

——. Relation d’un voyage fait en 1695. 1696. & 1697. aux côtes d’Afrique, détroit de Magellan, Brezil, Cayenne & isles Antilles : par une escadre des vaisseaux du roy, commandée par M. de Gennes / faite par le sieur Froger . . . ; enrichie de grande nombre de figures dessinées sur les lieux. Paris: Chez Nicolas Le Gras, 1700. Gardner, R. “The Socio-Educational Model of Second-Language Learning: Assumptions, Findings, and Issues,” Language Learning 38.1 (1988): 101–126. Gardner, R. and Peter D. MacIntyre. “An Instrumental Motivation in Language Study: Who Says It Isn’t Effective?” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 13.1 (1991): 57–72. Gardner, R.C., R.N. Lalonde, and R. Moorcroft. “The Role of Attitudes and Motivation in Second Language Learning: Correlational and Experimental Considerations.” Language Learning 35.2 (1985): 207–227. Gascoigne, John. “Joseph Banks and the English Enlightenment: Useful Knowledge and Polite Culture.” Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Gass, Susan. “Integrating Research Areas: A Framework for Second Language Studies.” Applied Linguistics 9.2 (1988): 198–217. Gass, Susan and Alison Mackey. “Frequency Effects and Second Language Acquisition: A Complex Picture?” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 24.2 (2002): 249–260. Gass, Susan and Evangeline Marlos Varonis. “Input, Interaction, and Second Language Pro- duction.” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 16.3 (1994): 283–302. Gass, Susan and Larry Selinker. Second Language Acquisition: An Introductory Course. Mah- wah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Publishers, 2001. Gass, Susan, Allison Mackey, M. Alvarez-Torres, and M. Fernádez-Garcia. “The Effects of Task Repetition on Linguistic Output.” Language Learning 49.4 (1999): 549–581. Gates, Henry Louis. Figures in Black: Words, Signs and the “Racial” Self. Oxford University Press, 1987. Gee, James Paul. “Literacy, Discourse, and Linguistics: Introduction and What is Literacy?” In Literacy: A Critical Sourcebook, edited by Eugene R. Kintgen, Barry M. Kroll, Mike Rose, and Ellen Cushman, 525–544. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2001. Original work published in 1989. Gilbert, Glenn. Untitled, ms, 1986. Giles, Howard. “Ethnicity Markers in Speech.” In Social Markers in Speech, edited by Klaus Rainer Schere and Howard Giles, 251–289. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979. Giles, Howard and Jane Byrne. “The Intergroup Model of Second Language Acquisition.” Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 3.1 (1982): 17–40. Giles, Howard and Richard Y. Bourhis. “Linguistic Assimilation: West Indians in Cardiff.” Language Sciences 38 (1975): 9–12. Giles, Howard, Richard Y. Bourhis, and Michael Taylor. “Towards a Theory of Language in Ethnic Group Relations.” In Language, Ethnicity and Intergroup Relations, edited by Howard Giles, 307–438. London: Academic Press, 1977. Gilman, Charles. “African Areal Characteristics: Sprachbund, Not Substrate?” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Studies 1.1 (1986): 35–50. Gjessing, Frederick C. and William P. McClean. Historic Buildings of St. Thomas and St. John. London/Basingstoke: MacMillian Education Ltd., 1987. Gøbel, Erik. A Guide to Sources for the History of the Danish West Indies (U.S. Virgin Islands) 1671–1917. Odense, Denmark: University Press of Southern Denmark, 2002. ——. “Danish Trade to the West Indies and Guinea, 1671–1754.” Scandinavian Economic History Review 31.1 (1983): 21–48. ——. “The Danish West India Company Records in the Danish National Archives.” Society of Virgin Islands Historians Occasional Papers Series, no. 1. 1989. Goddard, Ives. “Pidgin Delaware.” In Contact Languages: A Wider Perspective, edited by Sarah G. Thomason, 43–98. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Com- pany, 1997. Goetz, Peggy J. “The Effects of Bilingualism on Theory of Mind Development.” In Bilingual- ism: Language and Cognition 6.1 (2003): 1–15. bibliography 303

Goldschneide, Jennifer. M. and Robert M. DeKeyser. “Explaining the ‘Natural Order of L2 Morpheme Acquisition’ in English: A Meta-Analysis of Multiple Determinants.” Lan- guage Learning 51.1 (2001): 1–50. Goldsmith, Oliver. A History of the Earth and Animated Nature. Vol. 2. Glasgow: W.G. Blackie and Co., 1824. Original work published 1774, digitized May 15, 2006. Accessed March 17, 2007. http://books.google.com. Goodman, Morris. A Comparative Study of French Creole Dialects. The Hauge: Mouton, 1964. ——. “Review of Amsterdam Creole Studies 9.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole 3.2 (1988): 288–291. ——. “The Portuguese Element in the American Creoles.” In Pidgin and Creole Languages: Essays in Memory of John E. Reinecke, edited by Glenn G. Gilbert, 361–405. Honolulu: University of Hawaii, 1987. Gordon, Elizabeth and Peter Trudgill. “Embryonic Variants in New Zealand English.” Eng- lish World-Wide 20.1 (1999): 111–124. Goslinga, Cornelis Charles. The Dutch in the Caribbean and in the Guianas 1760–1791. Dover, NH: Van Gorcum, 1985. Graves, Anne Victoria. The Present State of the Dutch Creole of the Virgin Islands. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Michigan. Ann Arbor, MI: UMI, 1977. Greenberg, Joseph. Languages of Africa. Bloomington, IL: Indiana University Research Cen- ter in Anthropology, Folklore, and Linguistics, 1966. Greenberg, Joseph H. “African Linguistic Classification.” In General History of Africa: Meth- odology and African Prehistory, edited by J. Ki-Zerbo, 292–308. Paris: Unesco and Lon- don: Heineman, 1981. ——. “Some Areal Characteristics of African Languages.” In Current Approaches to African Linguistics, edited by Ivan R. Dihoff, 3–21. Dordrecht: Foris Publications, 1983. Greenfield, William. A Defense of the Suriname Negro-English Version of the New Testament Founded on the History of the Negro-English version, a view of the situation populations and history of Suriname, a philological analysis of the language, and a careful examination of the version; in reply to the animadversions of an anonymous writer in the Edinburgh Christian Instructor. London: Samuel Bagster, 1830. Green-Pedersen, Svend E. “Slave Demography in the Danish West Indies and the Abolition of the Danish Slave Trade.” In The Abolition of the Atlantic Slave Trade, David Eltis and James Walvin, 231–257. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 1981. Grillo, R.D. Dominant Languages: Language and Hierarchy in Britain and France. Cam- bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989. Grimm, Jacob. Deutsche Grammatik. Part I. Göttingen: Dieterichsche Buchhandlung, 1819. Grosjean, François. Life with Two Languages: An Introduction to Bilingualism. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1982. Gros-Louis, Michel. Huron—Wendat Language. 1999. Accessed August 10, 2006. http:// ossossane.org/langue.html. Gueye, Mbaye. “The Slave Trade Within the African Continent.” The Slave Trade from the 15th to the 19th Century: Reports and Papers of the Meeting of Experts Organized by UNESCO at Port au Prince, Haiti, 150–163. Paris: UNESCO, 1978. Guirty, Geraldo. Harlem’s Danish American West Indies 1899–1964. NY: Vantage Press, 1989. Gumperz, John. “Language and Communication.” The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Sciences 373 (1967): 219–231. ——. “Types of Linguistic Communities.” In Readings in the Sociology of Language, edited by Joshua A. Fishman, 460–472. The Hague: Mouton, 1968. Guyatt, Nicholas. “Our Slaves are Black.” London Review of Books, 19–22. October 4, 2007. Hågensen, Reimert. “Description of the Island of St. Croix.” In The Kamina Folk: Slavery and Slave Life in the Danish West Indies, edited by George F. Tyson and Arnold R. Highfield, 29–46. St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands: The Virgin Islands Humanities Council, 1994. Original work published in 1758. 304 bibliography

Hair, P.E.H. “The Early Sources on Guinea.” History in Africa 21 (1994): 87–126. Hall, Robert. Pidgin and Creole Languages. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1966. Hall, Neville A.T. Slave Society in the Danish West Indies: St. Thomas, St. John, St. Croix, edited by B.W. Higman. Baltimore: John’s Hopkins University Press, 1992. Hallé, Pierre A. “Language-specific Aspect of the Perception of Illegal Clusters.” A paper presented at the Workshop on Consonant Clusters and Structural Complexity, Munich, 2008. Halsall, Paul. “Modern History Sourcebook: Jean Jacques Rousseau (1712–1778).” A Discourse Upon The Origin and The Foundation of The Inequality Among Mankind. 1997, revised 2001. Accessed February 24, 2007. http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/mod/1782rousseau- inequal.html. Hammett, Maxwell. “Roman Law and the Genesis of Lord Monboddo’s Of the Origin and Progress of Language. Journal for Eighteenth-Century Studies” 1.1 (1978): 33–40. Hancock, Ian. Creole Language Provenance and the African Component. ms, 1988. Hansen, Doris. “A Study of the Effect of the Acculturation Model on Second Language Acquisition.” In Second Language Acquisition and Theory and Pedagogy, edited by Fred R. Eckman, Diane Highland, Peter W. Lee, Jean Milcham, and Rita Rutkowski Weber, 305–316. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates Publishers, 1995. Hansen Edwards, Jette G. “Social Factors and Variation in Production in L2 Phonology.” In Phonology and Second Language Acquisition, edited by Jette G. Hansen Edwards and Mary L. Zampini, 251–282. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Com- pany, 2008. Harris, Joseph A. “The Dynamics of the Global African Diasporas.” In The African Diaspora, edited by Alusine Jalloh and Stephen E. Maizlish, 7–21. College Station, TX: Texas A & M University Press, 1996. Hazaël-Massieux, Guy. “Marking Specificity in Antillean Creole French.” In St. Kitts and the Atlantic Creoles: The Texts of Samuel Augustus Mathews in Perspective, edited by Philip Baker and Adrienne A. Bruyn, translated by Philip Baker, 271–288. London: University of Westminster Press, 1998. Original work published in 1991. Hazen, Kirk. “Identity and Language Variation in a Rural Community.” Language 78.2 (2002): 240–257. He, Agnes Weiyun. “Toward an Identity Theory of the Development of Chinese as a Heri- tage Language.” Heritage Language Journal 4.1 (2006): 1–28. Accessed December 10, 2007. http://www.heritagelanguages.org/. Head, Anna Ruth. The Monophthongization of /ai/ in Elba and the Environs. M.A. thesis, Auburn University, 2003. Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich. The Philosophy of History, edited and translated by John Sibree. NY: Wiley, 1900. Accessed March 18, 2007. http://books.google.com. Original work published in 1837. Heine, Bernd. Cognitive Foundations of Grammar. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997. Heine, Bernd, Ulrike Claudi, and Friederike Hünnermeyer. Grammaticalization: A Concep- tual Framework. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991. Helms-Park, R. “Transfer in SLA and Creoles.” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 25.2 (2003): 211–244. Hennessy, Alistair. “Introduction and Biographical Essay in Miguel Barnet.” In The Auto- biography of a Runnaway Slave: Estaban Montejo. Translated by Jocasta Innes. London: The MacMillian Press Ltd., 1991. Originally published in 1968. Herbert, Thomas, Sir. Relation of some Yeares Travaile, Begvnne Anno 1626. Into Afrique and the greater Asia, especially the Territories of the Persian Monarchie: and some parts of the Orientall Indies, and Iles adjacent. Of their Religion, Language, Habit, Discent, Cer- emonies, and other Matters concerning them. Together with the proceedings and death of the three late Ambassadours Sir D.C. Sir S.R. and the Persian Nogd 1–Beg: As also the two great Monarchs, the King of Persia, and the great Mogul. London, William Stamnsby, and Jacob Bloome, 1634. bibliography 305

Herder, Johann Gottfried. “Treatise on the Origin of Language.” Reprinted in Michael N. Forster (Ed.) Philosophical writings By Johann Gottfried Herder, 65–164. Cambridge: Cam- bridge University Press, 2002 (Original work published 1772). Hernæs, Per. “‘Fort Slavery’ at Christiansborg on the Gold Coast: Wage Labour in the Mak- ing.” In Slavery Across Time and Space: Studies in Slavery in Medieval Europe and Africa, edited by Per Hernæs, and Tor Iversen, 197–229. Trondheim, Denmark: Department of History, Norwegian University of Science and Technology, 2002. Hernandez, A.E., J. Hofmann, and S.A. Kotz. “Age of Acquisition Modulates Neural Activity for Both Regular and Irregular Syntactic Functions.” Neuroimage, 36 (2007): 912–923. Herrnstein, Richard J. and Charles Murray. Bell Curve: Intelligence and Class Structure in American Life. NY: Free Press, 1994. Herskovitz, Melvin J. “Problem, Method and Theory in Afroamerican Studies.” AfroAmerica 1 (1945): 5–24. Hesseling, Dirk Christiaan. Het Negerhollands der Deense Antillen. Leiden: A.W. Sijthoff, 1905. ——. “Papiamentu en Negerhollands.” In Markey, T.L. and Paul T. Roberge (Trans. and Eds.) Dirk Christiaan Hessling, On the origin and Formation of Creoles: A Miscellany of Articles, and Hugo Schuchardt, The Ethnography of Variation: Selected Writings on Pid- gins and Creoles. Ann Arbor, MI: Karoma, 1979. Original work published in 1933. Hewitt, Roger. “White Adolescent Creole Users and the Politics of Friendship.” Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 3.3 (1982): 217–232. Highfield, Arnold R. Time Longa’ Dan Twine: Notes on the Culture, History and People of the U.S. Virgin Islands. St. Croix, U.S. Virgin Islands: Antilles Press, 2009. Hinnenkamp, V. “Eye-witnessing Pidginization: Structural and Sociolinguistic Aspects of German and Turkish Foreigner Talk.” In Papers from the York Creole Conference, Sep- tember 24–27, 1983, York Papers in Linguistics, edited by Mark Sebba and Loreto Todd. York, UK: University of York, 1984. Hinskens, Frans. “The Dichroncy of r-deletion/r-lessness in Negerhollands.” Handout from a paper presented at NWAVE 27, Athens, GA, 1998. ——. “Some of the Documents Concerning Negerhollands in the Archives of the Moravian Bretheren in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. A First Impression.” Amsterdam Creole Studies 12 (1995): 87–95. Hinskens, Frans and Cefas van Rossem. “The Negerhollands Word Sender in the Eighteenth-Century Manuscripts.” In The Early Stages of Creolization, edited by Jacques Arends, 63–88. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 1995. Hobbs, Thomas. “The Leviathian.” Great Voyagaes in the History of Western Philosophy 1492–1776. September 2003. Accessed March 17, 2007. http://oregonstate.edu/instruct/ phl302. Original work published in 1660. Hockett, Charles. F. A Course in Modern Linguistics. New York: Macmillian, 1958. Hodgen, Margaret T. Early Anthropology in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. Phila- delphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1964. ——. The Doctrine of Survivals. London: Allenson and Company Limited, 1977. ——. “The Negro Anthropology of John Wesley.” The Journal of Negro History 19.3 (1934): 308–323. Hodine, Barbara. “Yet Another Look at Interlanguage Phonology: The Modification of English Syllable Structure by Native Speakers of Polish.” Language Learning 35.2 (1985): 405–422. Hoengiswald, Henry. “Language History and Creole Studies.” In Pidginization and Creoliza- tion of Languages, edited by Dell Hymes, 473–480. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971. Holloway, Joseph E. “The Origins of African-American Culture.” In Africanisms in American Culture, edited by Joseph E. Holloway, 1–18. Bloomington/Indianapolis: Indiana Univer- sity Press, 1990. 306 bibliography

Holm, John. Pidgins and Creoles, Vol. 1. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988. ——. “Portuguese- and Spanish-based Creoles and Typologies.” Papia 6 (2006): 53–61. Accessed August 5, 2010. http://abecs.dominiotemporario.com/ojs/index.php/papia/ article/viewFile/14/16-3. ——. “Review of Gibt es das kreolische Sprachwandelmodell? Vergleichende Grammatik des Negerholländischen.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 1/2 (1986): 245–249. ——. “Variability of the Copula in Black English and its Creole Kin.” American Speech 59.4 (1984): 291–309. Holm, John and Peter Patrick. Comparative Creole Syntax: Parallel Outline of 18 Creole Grammars. London: Battlebridge Publications, 2007. Holmes, Janet and Paul Kerswill. “Contact is Not Enough: A Response to Trudgill.” Lan- guage in Society 37.2 (2008): 273–277. Horlacher, Gary (Trans.) and David W. Knight (Ed.). The 1688 Census of the Danish West Indies: Portrait of a Colony in Crisis. St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands: Little Northside Press, 1998. Horowitz, Elaine K., Michael B. Horowitz, and Joann Cope. “Foreign Language Classroom Anxiety.” The Modern Language Journal 70.2 (1986): 125–132. Hu, Min. Phonological awareness in Mandarin of Chinese and Americans. Ph.D. dissertation, Auburn University, 2009. Huber, Magnus, Suzanne Michaels, Martin Haspelmath, and Philippe Maurer. “Compar- ing Contact Languages World Wide: Findings Based on the Atlas of Pidgin and Creole Language Structures.” A paper presented at the 18th Biennial Meeting of the Society for Caribbean Linguistics, Barbados, 2010. Hume, David. “Of Liberty and Despotism.” In Essays, Moral and Political. Edinburgh: Printed by R. Fleming and A. Alison for A. Kincaid, 1741. Hyde, Janet S. and Marcia C. Linn. “Gender Differences in Verbal Ability: A Meta-analysis.” Psychological Bulletin 104.1 (1988): 53–69. Hyltenstam, Kenneth and Niclas Abrahamsson. “Matruational Constraints in SLA.” In The Hand Book of Second Language Acquisition, edited by Catherine J. Doughty and Michael H. Long, 539–588. Oxford, UK: Blackwell, 2005. Hyman, Larry M. How to Become a “Kwa” Verb. n.d. Accessed August 18, 2009. http://www .linguistics.berkeley.edu/~hyman/Hyman_%27Kwa%27_Verb_Paper.pdf. Igwe, Leo. “Humanism for Africa.” International Humanist. May 2, 2004. Accessed February 19, 2008. http://www.iheu.org/node/1047. Illich, Ivan. “Vernacular Values.” Co-Evolution Quarterly (1980, Summer): 24–49. Ingram, David. “The Acquisition of Fricatives and Affricates in Normal and Linguistically Deviant Children.” In The Acquisition and Breakdown of Language: Parallels and Diver- gencies, edited by Alfonso Caramazza and Edgar B. Zurif, 63–85. Baltimore: John Hop- kins University Press, 1978. Ioup, Georgette. “Exploring the Role of Age in L2 phonology.” In Phonology and Second Language Acquisition, Jette G. Hanson Edwards and Mary L. Zampini, 41–62. Amster- dam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2008. Irvine, Jacqueline and Darlene York. “Learning Styles and Culturally Diverse Students: A Literature Review.” In Handbook of Research in Multicultural Education, edited by James Banks and Cherry Banks, 484–97. NY: Macmillan, 1995. Isert, P.E. Elfter Brief. Reise von Guinea nach Westindien. Zustand eines Sklavenschiffes. Rebellion der Sklaven. Beschreibung von St. Croix. Copenhagen, 1788. Iverson, Paul, Patricia K. Kuhl, Reiko Akahane-Yamada, Eugen Diesch, Yoh’ich Tohkura, Andreas Kettermann, and Claudia Siebert. “A Perceptual Interference Account of Acqui- sition Difficulties for Non-native Phonemes.” Cognition 87.1 (2003): B47–B57. Izumi, Shinichi. “Output, Input Enhancement, and the Noticing Hypothesis: An Experi- mental Study on ESL Relativization.” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 24.4 (2002): 541–577. bibliography 307

Jacques, T. Carlos. “From Savages and Barbarians to Primitives: Africa, Social Typologies, and History in Eighteenth-Century French philosophy.” History and Theory 36.2 (1997): 190–215. James, Winford. “The Noun Phrase in Tobagonian.” In Society for Caribbean Linguistics Occa- sional Paper Series, No 28. St. Augustine, Trinidad: University of The West Indies, 2001. Jansen, Bert, Hilda Koopman, and Pieter Muysken. “Serial Verbs in the Creole Languages.” Amsterdam Creole Studies 2 (1978): 125–59. Jensen, Arthur R. “How Much Can we Boost I.Q. and Scholastic Achievement?” Harvard Educational Review 39.1 (1969): 1–123. Jensen, Kristian. “Melanchthon’s Latin Grammar in Denmark and Norway.” Paradigm 2 (1990). www.du/westbury/Paradigm/Jensen1.html. Jensen, Tore. “Articles and Plural Formation in Creoles: Change and Universals.” Lingua 64.4 (1984): 291–323. Jia, Gisla. “The Acquisition of the English Plural Morpheme by Native Mandarin Chi- nese-Speaking Children.” Journal of Speech, Language, and Hearing Research 46 (2003, December): 1297–1311. Jiang, Nan. “Form-meaning Mapping in Vocabulary Acquisition in a Second Language.” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 24.4 (2002): 617–637. Johnson, Dora. “Why do People Fight Over Language?” In The Five Minute Linguist: Bite sized Essays on Language and Languages, edited by E.M. Rickerson and Barry Hilton, 88–92. London/Oakville: Equinox, 2006. Johnson, Samuel. A Dictionary of the English Language. London, 1755. Jordan, Winthrop D. White Over Black: American Attitudes Toward the Negro, 1550–1812. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press for the Institute of Early American His- tory and Culture at Williamsburg, VA, 1968. Jordens, Peter. “Introducing the Basic Variety.” Second Language Research 13.4 (1997): 289–300. Jusczyk, Peter W., Paul A. Luce, and Jan Charles-Luce. “Infants’ Sensitivity to Phonot- actic Patterns in the Native Language.” Journal of Memory and Language 33.5 (1994): 630–645. Kachru, Yamuna. “Sources of Bias in SLA Research. Monolingual Bias in SLA Research.” TESOL Quarterly 28.4 (1994): 795–800. Kandiah, Thiru. “Centering the Periphery of English: Foreword.” In Dehegemonizing Lan- guage Standards: Learning from (Post) Colonial Englishes about English, edited by Arjun Parakrama, xv–xxxvii. London: Macmillian, 1995. Kasper, Gabriele. “Repair in Foreign Language Teaching.” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 7.2 (1985): 200–215. Kea, Ray A. “‘When I Die, I Shall Return to My Own Land’: An ‘Amina’ Slave Rebellion in the Danish West Indies 1733–1734.” In The Cloth of Many Colored Silks, edited by John Hun- wick and Nancy Lawler, 159–193. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1996. Keller, Albert Galloway. Colonization: A Study of the Founding of New Societies. Boston: Ginn and Company, 1908. Khan, Zaved Ahmed and Shahila Zafar. “The Effects of Anxiety on Cognitive Processing in English Language Learning.” English Language Teaching 3.2 (2010): 199–209. Kidd, Robert Stevens. “An Archaeological Examination of Slave Life in the Danish West Indies: Analysis of the Material Culture of a Caribbean Slave Village Illustrating Eco- nomic Provisioning and Acquisition Preferences.” M.S. thesis, Florida State University, 2006. Klein, A. Norman. “West African Unfree Labor Before and After the Rise of the Atlantic Slave Trade.” In Slavery in the New World, edited by Laura Foner and Eugene D. Geno- vese, 87–95. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, Inc., 1969. Klein, Thomas B. “Typology of Creole Phonology: Phoneme Inventories and Syllable Tem- plates.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Studies 26.1 (2011): 155–193. 308 bibliography

Knight, Franklin W. “How to Compare Slavery Systems.” In Readings in Caribbean History and Economics: An Introduction to the Region, edited by Roberta Marx Delson, 65–69. NY/London/Paris: Gordon and Breach Science Publishers, 1981. Knox, John P.A. Historical Account of St. Thomas, WI. NY: Charles Scribner, 1982. Original work published in 1852. Koerner, E.F.K. “Linguistics and Ideology in the Study of Language.” February 18, 2006. Accessed January 2, 2010. http://www.tulane.edu/~howard/LangIdeo/Koerner/Koerner .html. Köhler, Oswin. “Geschichte und Probleme der Gliederung der Sprachen Afrikas.” In Die Völker Afrikas und ihre traditionellen Kulturen, edited by H. Baumann, 137–373. Wies- baden: Frans Steiner, 1975. Kohls, Robert. Resource Guide to the Culture of the Virgin Islands. Washington, DC: General Learning Corporation, 1973–1974. Korom, Frank J. “Memory, Innovation and Emerging Ethnicities.” Diaspora 3.2 (1994): 135–155. Kovács, Ánges Melinda and Jacques Mehler. “Flexible Learning Structures of Multiple Speech Structures in Bilingual Infants.” 2009. Accessed August 5, 2009. http://www .sciencemag.org/cgi/content/abstract/1173947. Kowenberg, Silvia. “Convergence and Explanations in Creole Genesis.” In Creolization and Contact, edited by Norval Smith and Tonjes Veenstra, 219–247. Amsterdam/Philadel- phia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2001. ——. “Creole Studies and Linguistic Typology: Part I.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Linguis- tics 25.1 (2010a): 173–186. ——. “Creole Studies and Linguistic Typology: Part II.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Linguis- tics 25.2 (2010b): 359–380. Kowenberg, Silvia and Peter Patrick (Eds.). “Reconsidering the Role of SLA in Pidginization and Creolization.” Special Issue of Studies in Second Language Acquisition 25.2 (2003). Krashen, Steven. Second Language Acquisition and Second Language Learning. Oxford: Pergamon, 1981. ——. The Input Hypothesis: Issues and Implications. NY: Longmans, 1985. Kretzschmar, William J. “Neural Networks and the Linguistics of Speech.” Interdisciplinary Science Review (2008): 338–356. ——. The Linguistics of Speech. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009. Kropp-Dakubu, Mary Esther. Korle Meets the Sea: A Sociolinguistic History of Accra. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997. ——. “Exploring Ga Plurals.” Journal of African Languages and Linguistics 17.2 (1996): 153–182. ——. Ga-English Dictionary with English-Ga Index. Accra: Black Mask Ltd., 1999. ——. “Akan.” In Concise Encyclopedia of the Languages of the World, edited by Keith Brown and Sarah Ogilvie, 17–20. Kidlington, Oxford: Elsevier Ltd., 2009. Kropp-Dakubu, Mary Esther, Lars Hellan, and Dorothee Beermann. n.d. Accessed July 22, 2009. http://hpsg.stanford.edu/HPSG07/Abstracts/submission_17.pdf. Kuhl, Patricia. “Born to Learn: Language, Reading, and the Brain of the Child.” White House Summit on Early Childhood Cognitive Development, 2001. Accessed December 20, 2006. ——. “Early Language Acquisition: Cracking the Speech Code.” Nature Reviews Neuro- science 5 (2004): 831–843. Accessed April 28, 2011. http://www.nature.com/nrn/journal/ v5/n11/abs/nrn1533.html. Kusters, Wouter and Pieter Muysken. “Comment on McWhorter: The Complexities of Arguing About Complexity.” Linguistic Typology 5.2/3 (2001): 182–185. La Condamine, Charles Marie De. Relation abrégreé d’un voyage fait dans l’intérieur de l’Amérique méridionale. Paris, 1745. Labov, William. “The Continuing Divergence of Black and White Speech in Philadelphia.” A paper presented at a meeting at the Bay Area Sociolinguistics Association, Stanford Uni- versity, 1984. bibliography 309

——. Principles of Linguistic Change: Social factors. Oxford, UK/Cambridge, US: Blackwell, 2001. ——. Sociolinguistic Patterns. Philadelphia: University of Philadelphia Press, 1972. ——. “The Logic of Nonstandard English.” Georgetown Monographs on Language and Lin- guistics 22 (1969): 1–31. ——. “The Social Motivation of Sound Change.” Word 19 (1963): 273–309. ——. The Social Stratification of English in New York City. Washington, DC: Center for Applied Linguistics, 1966. ——. What is to be Learned. Accessed December 10, 2010. http://www.ling.upenn.edu/~ wlabov/Papers/WTBL.pdf. LaCharité, Darlene. “Multilingualism in Creole Genesis.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Lan- guages 22.1 (2007): 159–164. Ladefoged, Peter. A Phonetic Study of West African Languages: An Auditory-instrumental Survey. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968. Lafitau, Joseph-François. Moeurs des Sauvage Ameriquains Comparées aux Moeurs des Pre- miers Temps. Paris: Saugrain, 1724. Lamb, Martin. “Explaining Successful Language Learning in Difficult Circumstances.” Pros- pect 17.2 (2000): 35–52. Language Department. Bohog Put in Gol’ Teet. British Virgin Islands High School, n.d. La Rosa, Zhenja. “Language and Empire: The Vision of Nebrija.” 1999. Accessed August 30, 2010. http://www.loyno.edu/~history/journal/1995-6/rosa.htm. Larsen, Jens. The Virgin Islands Story. Philadelphia: Multenberg Press, 1950. Larsen-Freeman, Diane. “An Explanation for the Morpheme Acquisition Order of Second Language Learners.” Language Learning 26.1 (1979): 125–134. ——. “The Importance of Input in Second Language Acquisition.” In Pidginization and Creolization as Language Acquisition, edited by Roger Anderson, 87–93. Rowley, MA: Newbury House, 1983. Law, Robin. The English in West Africa 1685–1688: The Local Correspondence of the Royal African Company of England 1681–1699 (Part 2). Oxford: Oxford University Press for the British Academy, 2001. Leets, Laura and Howard Giles. “Dimensions of Minority Language Survival/non-survival: Intergroup Cognitions and Communication Climates.” European Studies on Multilin- gualism 5 (1995): 37–73. LeFebvre, Clair, Lydia White, and Christine Jourdan (Eds.). L2 Acquisition and Creole Gen- esis. Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2006. Leow, Ronald P. and Melissa A. Bowles. “Attention and Awareness in SLA.” In Mind and Context in Adult Second Language Acquisition: Methods, Theory, and Practice, edited by Christina Sanz, 179–206. Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 2005. Le Page, Robert B. “Processes of Pidginization and Creolization.” In Pidgin and Creole Lin- guistics, edited by Albert Valdman, 222–255. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1977. Le Page, Robert B. and André Tabouret-Keller. Acts of Identity: Creole-based Approaches to Language and Identity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985. Leung Yan-Kit, Ingrid. “L2 vs. L3 Initial State: A Comparative Study of the Acqusition of French DPs by Vietnamese Monolinguals and Cantonese-English Bilinguals.” Language and Cognition 8.1 (2005): 39–61. Lewis, G.K. The Virgin Islands: A Caribbean Lilliput. Evanston: Northeastern University Press, 1972. Lewis, Mathew Gregory, Esq. M.P. Journal of a West India Proprietor Kept During a Resi- dence in the Island of Jamaica. NY: Negro University Press, 1969. Original work published in 1834. Lewisohn, Florence. ‘What So Proudly We Hail’: The Danish West Indies and the American Revolution. St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands: American Revolution Bicentennial Commis- sion of the Virgin Islands, 1975. 310 bibliography

Liebst, Bente. “People and Languages in the Danish West Indies in the 18th Century.” In Language and Cultural Hegemony, edited by Ernst-Ullrich Pinkert, 111–127. Aalborg: Aalorg University Press, 1996. Liewil. “Liewil’s Djembe Pages.” n.d. Accessed January 5, 2005. http://users.pandora.be/ willie.camerman/djembe_en_background.html Lin, Yuh-Huey. “Interphonology Variability: Sociolinguistic Factors Affecting L2 Simplifica- tion Strategies.” Applied Linguistics 24.4 (2003): 439–464. Linnaeus, C. Systema Naturae, Sive Regna tria Naturae. Systematice Proposita per Classes, Ordines, Genera, & Species. Leiden: Lugduni Batavorum, Apud Theodorum Haak, 1735. Long, Edward. History of Jamaica; or General Survey of the Ancient and Modern State of that Island: With Reflection on its Situations, Settlements, Inhabitants, Climate, Products, Com- merce, Laws, and Government, new edition with a new introduction by George Metcalf, v. 3. London: F. Cass, 1970. Original work published in 1774. Long, Michael H. “The Role of the Linguistic Environment in Second Language Acquisi- tion.” In Handbook of Second Language Acquisition. Vol. 2, edited by William C. Ritchie and Tej K. Bhatia, 413–468. NY: Academic Press, 1996. Lord, Carol. Historical Change in Serial Verb Constructions. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 1993. Loschky, Lester C. “Comprehensible Input and Second Language Acquisition: What Is the Relationship?” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 16.3 (1994): 303–325. Lovejoy, Paul E. Transformations in Slavery: A History of Slavery in Africa, 2nd edition. Cam- bridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. ——. “Introduction: Ethnicity and the African Diaspora.” In Trans-Atlantic Dimensions of Ethnicity in the African Diaspora, edited by Paul E. Lovejoy and David D. Trotman, 1–8. London/NY: Continuum, 2003. Lovelace, Earl. The Wine of Astonishment. Kingston, Jamaica: Heinmann Educational Books Ltd., 1982. Low, Ruth Hull and Rafael Valls. St. John Backtime: Eyewitness Accounts from 1718–1956. St. John, U.S. Virgin Islands: Eden Hill Press, 1985. Lowth, Robert. A Short Introduction to English Grammar with Critical Notes. London: J. Hughes, 1762. Luján, M., L. Minaya, and David Sankoff. “The Universal Consistency Hypothesis and the Prediction of Word Order Acquisition Stages in the Speech of Bilingual Children.” Lan- guage 60.2 (1984): 343–371. Lynch, Jack. “How Johnson’s Dictionary Became the First Dictionary.” August 27, 2006. Accessed September 22, 2007. http://andromeda.rutgers.edu/~jlynch/Papers/firstdict.html. Mackey, Allison. “Input, Interaction, and Second Language Development: An Empirical Study of Question Formation in ESL.” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 21.4 (1999): 557–587. Mackey, Allison and Jenefer Philip. “Conversational Interaction and Second Language Development: Recasts, Responses, and Red Herrings.” Modern Language Journal 82.3 (1998): 338–356. Mackey, Allison and Rebekah Abbuhl. “Interaction and Tasks.” In Mind and Context in Adult Second Language Acquisition: Methods, Theory, and Practice, edited by Christina Sanz, 207–233. Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2005. Mackey, Allison and Susan M. Gass. “Pushing the Methodological Boundaries in Interac- tion Research: An Introduction to the Special Issue.” Studies in Second Language Acqui- sition 28.2 (2006): 169–178. Maddieson, Ian. “Syllable Structure.” In The World Atlas of Language Structures Online, Munich: Max Planck Digital Library, edited by Martin Haspelmath, Matthew S. Dryer, David Gil, and Bernard Comrie, Chapter 12. 2008. Accessed September 3, 2009. http:// wals.info/feature/12. bibliography 311

Magens, J.M. Grammatica over det Creolske Sprog: Som bruges paa de trende danske eilande, St. Croix, St. Thomas og St. Jans i America: Sammenskrevet og opsat af en zaa St. Thomas hedföd maed, Copenhagen: Giese Salikath. Translated by Mark Robert Hale., ms, n.d. Original work published in 1770. Maguire, Gabrielle. Our Own Language: An Irish Initiative. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters Ltd., 1990. Maher, Julianne. “Magnan Navire de France: Language and Social Life in the Early French Colonies, the 17th Century Missionary Accounts.” Papers from the 10th Biennial Society for Caribbean Linguistics Conference. Greater Georgetown, Guyana, ms, 1994. Major, Roy C. “Natural Phonology of Second Language Acquisition.” In Sound Patterns in Second Language Acquisition, edited by Allen James and Jonathan Leather, 207–224. Dordrecht, Holland/Providence, USA: Fordis Publications, 1987. ——. “Transfer in Second Language Phonology.” In Phonology and Second Language Acqui- sition, edited by Jette G. Hansen Edwards and Mary L. Zampini, 63–94. Amsterdam/ Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2008. Major, Roy and Michael C. Faudree. “Markedness Universals and the Acquisition of Voic- ing Contrasts by Korean Speakers of English.” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 18.1 (1996): 69–90. Markey, William Francis. F. “The Description of Bilingualism.” In Readings in the Sociology of Language, edited by Joshua A. Fishman, 555–584. The Hague: Mouton, 1968. Marrou, Henri Irénéé. George Lamb (Trans.). A History of Education in Antiquity. Madison, WI: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1982. Marren, Susan. “Between Slavery and Freedom: The Transgressive Self in Olaudah Equia- no’s Autobiography,” PMLA 108.1 (1993): 94–105. Masuda, Hinako and Arai Takayuki. “Processing of Consonant Clusters by Japanese Native Speakers: Influences of English Learning Backgrounds.” Accoustical Science and Technol- ogy 31.5 (2010): 320–327. Mather, Patrick-André. “Second Language Acquisition and Creolization: Same (i) Processes, Different (e) Results.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 21.2 (2006): 231–274. Matthews, J. and C. Brown. “When Intake Exceeds Input: Language Specific Perceptual Illusions Induced by L1 Prosodic Constraints.” International Journal of Bilingualism 8.1 (2004): 5–27. McWhorter, John. Defining Creole. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. ——. The Missing Spanish Creoles: Recovering the Birth of Plantation Contact Languages. Bereley, CA: University of California Press, 2000. Mechelli A., J.T. Crinion, U. Noppeney, J. O’Doherty, J. Ashburner, R.S. Frackowiak, and C.J. Price. “Structural Plasticity in the Bilingual Brain.” Nature 431.7010 (2004): 757 Meek, Ronald L. Social Science and Ignoble Savage. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976. Meier, Gudrun. “Preliminary Remarks on the Oldendorp Manuscripts and Their History.” In Slave Cultures and Cultures of Slavery, edited by Stephen Palmie, 67–77. Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 1995. Meijer, Guus and Pieter Muysken. “On the Beginnings of Pidgin and Creole Studies: Schuchardt and Hesseling.” In Pidgin and Creole Linguistics, edited by Albert Valdlman, 21–45. Bloomington/London: Univeristy of Indiana Press, 1977. Meisel, Jürgen. “Transfer as a Second-language Strategy.” Language and Communication 3.1 (1983): 11–46. Meisel, Jürgen, Harald Clahsen, and Manfred Pienemann. “On Determining Developmen- tal Stages in Natural Second Language Acquisition.” Studies in Second Language Acquisi- tion 3.2 (1981): 109–135. Merolla, Girolama. A voyage to Congo, and several other countries chiefly in Southern Africk. By Father Jerom Merolla da Sorrento . . . in the year 1682. London: H. Lintot and J. Osborn, 1682. 312 bibliography

Meyer, Margaret and Glenn Gilbert. English Translation of Oldendorp, starting on p. 424 “About the creole language of the Negroes.” ms, n.d. Migge, Bettina and Norval Smith. “Introduction: Substrate Influence in Creole Formation.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 22.2 (2007): 1–15. Migge, Bettina. “Substrate Influences in Creole Formation: The Origin of Give-type Serial Verb Constructions in the Surinamese Plantation Creole.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 13.2 (1998): 215–265. Mignolo, Walter D. “On the Colonization of Amerindian Languages and Memories: Renais- sance Theories of Writing and the Discontinuity of the Classical Tradition.” Contempo- rary Studies in Society and History 30.2 (1992): 310–330. ——. The Darkest Side of the Renaissance. Ann Arbour, MI: University of Michigan Press, 1995. Miller, Joseph C. “Central Africa During the Era of the Slave Trade, c. 1490–1850s.” In Cen- tral Africans and Cultural Transformations in the American Diaspora, edited by Linda M. Heywood, 21–69. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002. Original work published in 1979. Mintz, Sidney W. and Richard Price. The Birth of African-American Culture: An Anthropo- logical Approach. Boston: Beacon Press, 1992. Original work published in 1976. Mintz, Sidney W. “The Socio-historical Background to Pidginization and Creolization.” In Pidinization and Creolization of Languages, edited by Dell Hymes, 481–496. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971. Monboddo, James Burnett, Lord. Of the Origin and Progress of Man and Language. Printed for A. Kincaid & W. Creech, Edinburgh; and T. Cadell, London, 1773–1792. Electronic reproduction. Farmington Hills, Mich.: Thomson Gale, 2003. Monroe, B.S. “An English Academy.” Modern Philology 8.1 (1910): 107–122. Moravcsik, Edith A. “A Semantic Analysis of Associative Plurals.” Studies in Language 27.3 (2003): 469–503. Morgan, Marcyliena. Language, Discourse and Power in African American Culture. Cam- bridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002. Morgan, Philip D. “The Cultural Implications of the Atlantic Slave Trade: African Regional Origins, American Destinations, and New World Developments.” In Routes to Slavery: Direction, Ethnicity and Morality in the Atlantic Slave Trade, edited by Daniel Eltis and David Richardson, 122–145. London/Portland: Frank Cass, 1997. Morris, Roderick Conway. “Venetian Spoken Here.” December 12, 2008. Accessed Febru- ary 7, 2009. Times Literary Supplement. http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/ arts_and_entertainment/the_tls/article5329001.ece. Morrissey, Marietta. Slave Women in the New World: Gender Stratification in the Caribbean. Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 1989. Mufwene, Salikoko. “Serialization and Subordination in Gullah: Toward a Definition of Serialization.” A paper presented at the 7th Biennial Meeting of the Society for Caribbean Linguistics, Nassau, Bahamas, 24–27 August, 1988. ——. “The Founder Principle in Creole Genesis.” Diachronica 13.1 (1996): 83–134. ——. “Transfer and the Substrate Hypothesis in Creolistics.” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 12.1 (1990): 1–23. Mugglestone, Lynda. “Sheridan in the School Room” Paradigm 2.7 (2003). Accessed Febru- ary 28, 2009. http://faculty.ed.uiuc.edu/westbury/Paradigm/vol2/Mugglestone.rtf. Mühlhäusler, Peter. “Patterns of Mixture, Creation and Nativization.” In Developmental Mechanisms of Language, edited by Charles-James N. Bailey and Roy Harris, 51–87. Oxford/NY: Pergamon Press, 1985. ——. “Review of The Ecology of Language.” Language 81.1 (2005): 265–268. ——. “What is the Use of Studying Pidgin and Creole Languages?” Language Sciences 3.4 (1992): 309–317. Müller, Friedrich. Grundriss der Sprachwissenschaft. Vol. 4. Vienna: Hölder, 1884. Mullin, Michael. Africa in America. Urbana/Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1992. Muysken, Pieter. “Studying Variation in Older Texts: Negerhollands.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Langauges 10.2 (1995): 335–347. bibliography 313

——. “The Origin of Creole Languages: The Perspective of Second Language Learning.” In Creolization and Contact, edited by Norval Smith and Tonjes Veenstra, 157–173. Amster- dam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2001. ——. “The Spanish that Quechua Speakers Learn: L2 Learning as Norm-Governed Behav- ior.” In Second Languages: A Cross Linguistic Perspective, edited by Roger W. Andreson, 101–119. Rowley, MA: New Bury House Publishers, 1984. Muysken, Pieter and Tonjes Veenstra. “Serial Verbs.” In Pidgins and Creoles: An Introduc- tion, edited by Jacques Arends, Pieter Muysken and Norval Smith, 289–301. Amsterdam/ Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 1995. Nadel, Siegfried F. The Theory of Social Structure. London: Cohen and West; Glencoe, IL: The Free Press, 1957. Nathan, Geofrey S. “Review of The Sounds of the World’s Languages.” Language 74.3 (1998): 374–376. Neergård, Lauran. “Unraveling How Children Become Bilingual So Easily.” Associated Press. n.d. Accessed August 5, 2009. http://news.google.com/news? Nelson, Frank. Words and Texts. ms, 1936. Nero, Shondel J. “Introduction.” In Dialects, Englishes, Creoles, and Education, edited by Shondel Nero, 1–16. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Earlbaum Associates, 2006. ——. “Language, Identities, and ESL Pedagogy.” Language and Education 19.3 (2005): 194–211. Nicholls, Patricia. “Creole Languages: Forging New Identities.” In Language in the USA: Themes for the Twenty-first Century, edited by E. Finegan and J. Rickford, 133–152. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Nida, Eugene A. “Sociopsychological Problems In Language Mastery and Retention.” In The Psychology of Second Language Learning, edited by Paul Pimsleur and Terence Quinn, 59–65. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971. Nørregård, Georg. Danish Settlements in West Africa, translated by Sigurd Mammen. Bos- ton: Boston University Press, 1966. Original work written in 1954. Oldendorp, Christian Georg Andreas. A Caribbean Mission, edited by Johann Jakob Bossart and translated by Arnold R. Highfield and Vladimir Barac. Ann Arbor, MI: Karoma Pub- lishers, Inc., 1987. Original work published in 1777. ——. Historie der Caribischen Inseln Sanct Thomas, Sanct Crux und Sanct Jan, insbesondere der dasigen Neger und der Mission der evangelischen Brüder unter denselben. Erster Teil. Kommentierte Ausgabe des vollständigen Manuskriptes aus dem Archiv der Evangelis- chen Brüder-Unität Herrnhut. Berlin: Verlag für Wissenschaft und Bildung, 1777. ——. (Eds.) Gudrun Meier, Stephan Palmié, Peter Stein and Horst Ulbricht. Historie der caribischen Inseln Sanct Thomas, Sanct Crux und Sanct Jan, insbesondere der dasigen Neger und der Mission der evangelischen Brüder unter denselben. Erster Teil. Kom- mentierte Ausgabe des vollständigen Manuskriptes aus dem Archiv der Evangelischen Brüder-Unität Herrnhut. Berlin: Verlag für Wissenschaft und Bildung, 2000. Original work published in 1777. Oldendorp, Christian Georg Andreas, Peter Stein, Hein van der Voort, and Johan Christo- pher and Købitz Thomsen Kingo. Criolisches Wörterbuch: Erster zu vermehrender und wo nöthig zu verbessernder Versuch (1767/68). Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag, 1996. Oliver, Rhonda. “Age Differences in Negotiation and Feedback in Classroom and Pair- work.” Language Learning 50.1 (2000): 119–151. Olwig, Karen Fog. “African Cultural Principles in Caribbean Slave Societies.” In Slave Cul- tures and Cultures of Slavery, edited by Stephen Palmié, 23–39. Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 1995. ——. “An Eighteenth-Century Ethnographer of the Danish West Indies. Plantation Society 2.3 (1989): 337–342. ——. Cultural Adaptations and Resistance on St. John: Three Centuries Afro-Caribbean Life. Gainsville, FL: University of Florida Press, 1985. O’Reilly, Bill. “Don’t Say That.” Columbus Ledger Enquirer, July 11, 2009, A14. Osam, E.K. “Verbal Alternations in Akan.” Journal of African Languages and Linguistics 29.1 (2008): 49–70. 314 bibliography

Owomoyela, Oyekan. “Proverbs: An Exploration of an African Philosophy of Social Com- munication.” Ba Shiru 12.1 (1985): 3–16. Page, Willie F. The Dutch Triangle: The Netherlands and the Atlantic Slave Trade, 1621–1664. NY: Garland Publishing, 1997. Paiewonsky, Isidor. Eyewitness Accounts of Slavery in the Danish West Indies: Also Graphic Tales of Other Slave Happenings on Ships and Plantations. NY: Fordham University Press, 1989. Paradis, Johanne and Fred Genesse. “Syntactic Acquisition in Bilingual Children.” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 18.1 (1996): 1–25. Parkvall, Mikael. Out of Africa: Influences in Atlantic Creoles. London: Battlebridge Publica- tions, 2000. Patrick, Peter. “Caribbean Creoles and the Speech Community.” Society for Caribbean Linguistics Occasional Paper No 30. St. Augustine, Trinidad: The University of the West Indies, 2002. Patterson, Orlando. The Sociology of Slavery. London: McGibbon and Kee, 1967. Paxman, David B. “Language and Difference: The Problem of Abstraction in Eighteenth- Century Language Study.” Journal of the History of Ideas 54.1 (1993): 19–36. Peal, Elizabeth and Wallace E. Lambert. “The Relation of Bilingualism to Intelligence.” Psychological Monographs 76 (1962): 1–23. Peirce, Bonny Norton. “Social Identity, Investment, and Language Learning.” TESOL Quar- terly 29.9 (1995): 9–31. Perbi, Akosua. “Slavery and Ghana’s Pre-colonial Social Structure.” In Slavery Across Time and Space: Studies in Slavery in Medieval Europe and Africa, edited by Per Hernæs and Tor Iversen, 159–172. Trondheim, Denmark: Department of History, Norwegian Univer- sity of Science and Technology, 2002. Perdue, Clive. “Pre-basic Varieties: The First Stages of Second Language Acquisition.” In Eurosla 6: A Selection of Papers, edited by Eric Kellerman, Bert Weltens, and Theo Bon- gaerts, 135–49. Amsterdam: VU Uitgeverij, 1996. Pereira, Duarte Pacheco. Esmeraldo de Situ Orbis. London: Hakluyt Society, 1937. Original work published in 1505. Pescatello, Ann M. (Ed.). Old Roots in New Lands: Historical and Anthropological Perspec- tives on Black Experiences in the Americas. Westport, CN: Greenwood Press, 1977. Pica, Terry and Catherine Doughty. “Input and Interaction in the Communicative Class- room: A Comparison of Teacher Fronted and Group Activities.” In Input in Second Lan- guage Acquisition, edited by Susan M. Gass and Carolyn G. Madden, 115–136. Rowley, MA: Newbury House, 1985. Pica, Terry, and Richard Young. “The Impact of Interaction on Comprehension.” TESOL Quarterly 21.4 (1987): 737–758. Pica, Terry, Lloyd Holliday, Nora Lewis, and Lynelle Morgenthaler. “Comprehensible Out- put as an Outcome of Linguistic Demands on the Learner,” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 11.1 (1989): 63–90. Piske, Thorsten, Ian MacKay, and James E. Flege. “Factors Affecting Degree of Foreign Accent in an L2: A Review.” Journal of Phonetics 29.2 (2001): 191–215. Plag, Ingo. “Creoles as Interlanguages: Inflectional Morphology.” Journal of Pidgin and Cre- ole Languages 23.1 (2007): 114–135. ——. “Creoles as Interlanguages: Phonology.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 24.1 (2009): 121–140. ——. “Creoles as Interlanguages: Syntactic Structures.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Lan- guages 23.2 (2008): 307–328. Pontoppidan, Erik. “Einige Notizen über die Kreolensprache der Dänisch-Westindischen Inseln.” Zeitschrift für Ethnologie 13 (1881): 130–138. ——. “Det Dansk-Vestindisk Kreolsprog.” Tilskueren 4 (1887): 295–303. Postma, Johannes Menne. The Dutch in the Atlantic Slave Trade 1600–1815. Cambridge: Cam- bridge University Press, 1990. bibliography 315

Preston, Dennis R. Sociolinguistics and Second Language Acquisition. Oxford: Basil Black- well, 1989. ——. “The Story of Good and Bad English in the United States.” In Alternative Histories of English, edited by Richard Watts and Peter Trudgill, 134–151. London/NY: Routledge, 2002. ——. “Three Kinds of Sociolinguisics and SLA: A Psycholinguistic Perspective.” In Social and Cognitive Factors in Second Language Acquisition: Selected Proceedings of the 1999 Second Language Research Forum, edited by Bonnie Swierzbin, Frank Morris, Michael E. Anderson, Carol A. Klee, and Elaine Tarrone, 3–30. Sommerville, MA: Cascadilla Press, 2000. Price, Richard. “Some Anthropological Musings on Creolization.” Journal of Pidgin and Cre- ole Language 22.1 (2007): 17–36. Priestley, Joseph. The Rudiments of English Grammar, 3rd edition. London: Printed for J. and F. Rivington, 1772. Accessed April 20, 2011. http://books.google.com. Protten, Christian. En Nyttig Grammaticalsk Indledelse til Tvende Hidindtil Gandske Ubekiendte Sprog, Fanteisk og Acraisk (paa Guld-Küsten udi Guinea), efter den Danske Pronunciation og Udtale. Kjöbenhavn: Goldtmann Friedrich Kisel, 1764. Rampton, Ben. Crossing: Language and Ethnicity Among Adolescents. New York: Longman, 1995. Rampton, M.B.H. “Second Language Learners in a Stratified Multilingual Setting.” Applied Linguistics 12.3 (1991): 229–248. Rask, Rasmus. Vejledning til Akra-Sproget på Kysten Ginea med et Tillækvambuisk. Copen- hagen: S.L. Møllers Bogtrykkeri, 1928. Rawley, James A. and Stephen D. Behrendt. The Transatlantic Slave Trade: A History, (revised edition). Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 2005. Raynal, Abbé. Histoire Philosophique et Politique des Établissemens et du Commerce. Lau- sanne, 1773. Redden, J.E. Twi Basic Course. Report No. NDEA 6. Washington, DC: Department of State. Accessed March 29, 2011. http://www.eric.ed.gov/PDFS/ED030120.pdf. Reinecke, John E. Marginal Languages: A Sociological Survey of the Creole Languages and Trade Jargons. Ph.D. dissertation, Yale University, 1937. Ann Arbor, MI: UMI ——. “William Greenfiled, a Neglected Pioneer Creolist.” In Studies in Caribbean Langauge, edited by Lawrence D. Carrington, in collaboration with Dennis Craig and Ramon Todd Dandaré, 1–8. St. Augustine, Trinidad: Society for Caribbean Linguistics, 1983. Reisman, Karl. “Cultural and Linguistic Ambiguity in a West Indian Village.” In Afro-Amer- ican Anthropology: Contemporary Perspectives, edited by Norman E. Whitten, Jr. and John F. Szwed, 129–144. NY: The Free Press, 1970. Ricciardelli, Lina Angela. Childhood Bilingualism: Metalinguistic Awareness and Creativity. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Adelaide, 1989. Accessed March 17, 2009. http://digital .library.adelaide.edu.au/dspace/bitstream/2440/19089/1/09phr492.pdf. Rickford, John Russell. African American Vernacular English: Features, Evolution, Educa- tional Implications. Malden, M.A. Blackwell Publishers, 1999. ——. Dimensions of a Creole Continuum. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1987. ——. “Ethnicity as a Sociolinguistic Boundary.” American Speech 60.2 (1985): 99–118. ——. “Plural Marking Variability in ‘Early’ African American English and Caribbean and West African Pidgin/Creole Englishes, with Implications for the Creole Origins Debate.” A paper presented at the 15th Biennial Meeting of the Society for Caribbean Linguistics Jointly with the Society for Pidgin and Creole Languages, Curacao, 2004. ——. “Social Contact and Linguistic Diffusion: Hiberno-English and New World Black Eng- lish.” Language 62.2 (1986): 245–289. Rickford, John Russell and Jerome Handler. “Textual Evidence on the Nature of Early Bar- badian Speech, 1676–1835.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 9.2 (1994): 221–255. Ringbom, Håkan. “On L1 Transfer in L2 Comprehension and Production.” Language Learn- ing 42.1 (1992): 85–112. 316 bibliography

Rivera Castillo, Yolanda. “Resolution of Constraint Conflict and the Emergend of Feture- value Agreement in Ndjuka,” A paper presented at the 18th Biennial Meeting of the Society for Caribbean Linguistics, Barbados, ms, 2010. Robbins, R.H. A Short History of Linguistics, 4th edition. London/NY: Longman, 1997. Roberts, Peter A. “Concepts of Creole: The Legacy of Moreau de S. Méry, J.J. Thomas and Others,” A paper presented at the 11th Biennial Meeting of the Society for Caribbean Lin- guistics, St. Martin, ms, 1996. ——. Roots of Caribbean Identity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Roberts, Sarah Julianne. “The Role of Diffusion in the Genesis of Hawaiian Creole.” Lan- guage 74.1 (1998): 1–39. Roof, Erin. Grammar Ethnography. Auburn University class assignment, ms, 2007. Rumsey, Allan. “Wording, Meaning, and Linguistic Ideology.” American Anthropologist 92.2 (1992): 346–361. Sabino, Robin. “Advertisements for Escaped Slaves in the Bahama Gazette, 1784–1786.” SECOL LXVIII, University of Mississippi, Oxford, MS, 2000. ——. “Another Step Towards a Characterization of the Negerhollands Tense and Aspect Particles.” Amsterdam Creole Studies 9 (1986): 47–71. ——. “A Peak at Death: Assessing Continuity and Change in an Under Documented Lan- guage. Language, Variation, and Change 8.1 (1993): 41–61. ——. “First Language Transfer and Universal Processes in the Acquisition of Phonotactic Structure.” In Current issues in Second Language Acquisition and Development, edited by C. Blachshire-Belay, 7–28. University Press of America, Inc., 1994. ——. “Negerhollands Origins: A Reappraisal,” A paper presented at a meeting of the Society for Pidgin and Creole Linguistics, Los Angeles, CA., 1993. ——. “A Point of Detail: Serial Verbs in Negerhollands.” A paper delivered at a joint meeting of the Linguistic Society of America/ Society for Pidgin and Creole Linguistics, Phila- delphia, 1992. ——. “Reconsidering Official English: Beyond the Culture Wars.” The Southern Journal of Linguistics 33.2 (2009): 32–54. ——. “The Copula in Vernacular Negerhollands.” Journal of Pidgin and Creole 3.2 (1988b): 199–212. ——. “. . . They Just Fade Away: Language Death and the Loss of Phonological Variation.” Language in Society. 23.4 (1996): 395–426. ——. Towards a Phonology of Negerhollands. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Pennsylva- nia, 1990. ——. “Word-final Vowels in Negerhollands.” In Linguistic Change and Contact: Proceedings of NWAV XIV, edited by Kathleen Ferrara, Becky Brown, Keith Walters, and John Baugh, 310–18. Austin, TX: Linguistics Department, University of Texas at Austin, 1988a. Sabino, Robin and Anne-Katrin Gramberg. “The Implications of Lectal Variation for the Reassessment of Eric Pontoppidan’s 19th-century Creole Material.” SECOL Review 21.1 (1997): 126–40. Sabino, Robin and David Graff. “/h/ Insertion in Negerhollands: The Pronoun Alternates ham and am.” A Paper presented at 5th Biennial Meeting of the Society for Caribbean Linguistics, Mona, Jamaica, 1984. Sabino, Robin and Jennifer Hall. “The Path Not Taken: Cultural Identity in the Interesting Life of Olaudah Equiano.” Melus 24.1 (1999):5–19. Sabino, Robin, Mary Stevens Diamond, and Anna Oggs. “A Quantitative Study of Plural Marking in Four Non-urban African American Language Varieties.” A Paper presented at LAVIS III, Tuscaloosa, AL, 2004. Sabino, Robin and Ralf Thiede. “Typological Licensing: Serial Verbs in Negerhollands and Hoch Kreol.” SECOL LXXVII. University, MS 2010. Sagard, Fr. Gabriel. Dictionarie de la Langue Huronne. Paris: Chez Denys Morwau, 1632. Accessed March 2, 2011. www.googlebooks.com. Salisbury, R.F. “Pidgin’s Respectable Past.” New Guinea 2.2 (1967): 44–8. bibliography 317

Sanders, Gail. Slavery in the Bahamas. Printed by the Nassau Guardian, 1985. Sankoff, Gillian. “Introduction.” In The Social Life of Language, edited by Gillian Sankoff, ix–xxii. University of Pennsylvania Press, 1980. ——. “Political Power and Linguistic Inequality in Papua New Guinea.” In The Social Life of Language, edited by Gillian Sankoff, 5–27. University of Pennsylvania Press, 1980. Sankoff, Gillian and Suzanne Laberge. “On the Acquisition of Native Speakers by a Lan- guage.” In The Social Life of Language, edited by Gillian Sankoff, 195–209. University of Pennsylvania Press, 1980. Sanz, Christina. “Adult SLA: The Interaction Between External and Internal Factors.” In Mind and Context in Adult Second Language Acquisition: Methods, Theory, and Practice, edited by Christina Sanz, 3–20. Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2005. ——. “Bilingual Education Enhances Third Language Acquisition: Evidence from Catalo- nia.” Applied Psycholinguistics 21.1 (2000): 23–44. Sato, Charlene. “Phonological Processes in Second Language Acquisition: Another Look at Interlanguage Syllable Structure.” Language Learning 34.4 (1984): 163–174. Saura, Dorothee, Annette Baumgaertnerb, Anja Moehringd, Christian Büchel, Matthias Bonnesend, Michael Rosec, Mariachristina Musso, and Jürgen Meisel. “Word Order Pro- cessing in the Bilingual Brain.” Neuropsychologia 47.1 (2009): 158–168. Schachter, Paul. “Non-transformation Account of Serial Verbs.” Studies in African Linguis- tics. Supplement 5 (1974): 253–271. ——. Teaching English Pronunciation to the Twi-speaking Student. Legon: University of Ghana Press, 1962. Schmidt, Johan Christian. “Remarks on St. Croix in America.” In The Kamina Folk: Slav- ery and Slave Life in the Danish West Indies, edited by Tyson, George F. and Highfield, Arnold R., 111–126. St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands: The Virgin Islands Humanities Coun- cil, 1994. Schmidt, Richard. “Awareness and Second Language Acquisition.” Annual Review of Applied Linguistics 13 (1993): 206–22. ——. “The Role of Consciousness in Second Language Learning.” Applied Linguistics 11.2 (1990): 129–158. Schmidt, Richard and Silvia Frota. “Developing Basic Conversational Ability in a Second Language. A Case Study of an Adult Learner of Portuguese.” In Talking to Learn: Con- versation in Second Language Acquisition, edited by Richard R. Day, 237–326. Rowley, MA: Newbury House, 1986. Schneider, Edgar W. Post Colonial English: Varieties Around the World. Cambridge: Cam- bridge University Press, 2007. Schuchardt, Hugo. (1914). Die Sprache der Saramakkaneger in Surinam. Verhandelingen der Koninklijke Akademie van Wetenschappen te Amsterdam, Afdeling Letteren, Let- terkunde N.R. 14.6. ——. “Zum Negerhollandändischen von St. Thomas.” In Markey, T.L. and Paul T. Roberge (Trans. and Eds.) Dirk Christiaan Hessling, On the origin and Formation of Creoles: A Mis- cellany of Articles, and Hugo Schuchardt, The Ethnography of Variation: Selected Writings on Pidgins and Creoles, 48–58. Ann Arbor, MI: Karoma, 1979. Original work published in 1914. Schultze, Ernst. “Sklaven- und Dienersprachen (sogen. Handelsprachen): Ein Beitrag zur Sprach- und Wanderungs-Soziologie.” Sociologus 9 (1933): 377–418. Schumann, John H. “The Acculturation Model for Second Language Acquisition.” In Sec- ond Language Acqusition and Foreign Language Teaching, edited by Rosario C. Gingras, 27–50. Arlington, VA: Center for Applied Linguistics, 1978. Sebba, Mark. The Syntax of Serial Verbs: An Investigation into Serialization in Sranan and Other Languages. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 1987. Sénéchal, Monique. “The Differential Effect of Storybook Reading on Preschooler’s Acqui- sition of Expressive and Productive Vocabulary.” Journal of Child Language. 24.1 (1997): 123–138. 318 bibliography

Sensbach, Jon. Rebecca’s Revival: Creating Black Christianity in the Atlantic World. Cam- bridge: Harvard Univeristy Press, 2005. Séris, Jean-Pierre. “Mechanical Models and the Language Sciences in the 18th Century.” In Historical Roots of Linguistic Theories, edited by Lia Formigari and Daniele Gambarara, 45–81. Philadelphia/Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 1995. Seuren, Pieter and Herman Wekker. “Semantic Transparency as a Factor in Creole Gen- esis.” In Substrata versus Universals in Creole Genesis, edited by Pieter Muysken and Norval Smith, 57–70. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 1986. Seuren, Pieter A.M. Western Linguistics: An Historical Introduction. Oxford: Blackwell Pub- lishers, Ltd., 1998. Sey, Kofi Abakah. Ghanaian English: An Exploratory Survey. London: Macmillian, 1973. Shehadeh, Ali. Comprehension and Performance in Second Language Acquisition: A Study of Second Language Learners’ Production of Modified Comprehensible Output. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Durham, 1991. Sheppard, Verene A. “Ethnicity, Colour, and Gender in the Experience of Enslaved Women on Non-Sugar Properties in Jamaica.” In Trans-Atlantic Dimensions of Ethnicity in the African Diaspora, edited by Paul E. Lovejoy and Trotman, David D., 195–217. London and NY: Continuum, 2003. Sheridan, Thomas. A Course of Lectures on Elocution: Together with Two Dissertations on Language; and Some Other Tracts Relative to Those Subjects. London: A. Millar, R. and J. Dodsley, T. Davies, C. Henderson, J. Wilkie, and E. Dilly, 1762. Shuler, Kristina Andrea. Health, History, And Sugar: A Bioarchaeological Study of Enslaved Africans from Newton Plantation, Barbados, West Indies. Ph.D. dissertation Southern Illi- nois University Carbondale, 2005. Siegel, Jeff. “Koine Formation and Creole Genesis.” In Creolization and Contact, edited by Norval Smith and Tonjes Veenstra, 175–195. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2001. ——. “Links Between SLA and Creole Studies.” In L2 Acquisition and Creole Genesis: Dia- logues, edited by Claire Lefebvre, Lydia Whyte, and Christine Jourdan, 15–46. Amster- dam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2006. ——. “Mixing, Leveling and Pidgin/Creole Development.” In The Structure and Status of Pidgins and Creoles, edited by Arthur K. Spears and Donald Winford, 111–149. Amster- dam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 1997. ——. “Social Context.” In Handbook of Second Language Acquisition, edited by Catherine J. Doughty and Michael H. Long, 178–223. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing Ltd., 2003. ——. “Substrate Influence in Creoles and the Role of Transfer in Second Language Acquisi- tion.” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 25.2 (2005): 185–209. ——. The Emergence of Pidgin and Creole Languages. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008. Simmons-McDonald, Hazel. “Reexamining Notions of Deficiency and Inadequacy from the Perspective of Vernacular Education.” A paper presented at the 17th Biennial Meeting of the Society for Caribbean Linguistics, Cayenne, French Guiana, 2008. Singh, Rajendra and Muysken, Pieter. “Wanted a Debate in Pidgin/Creole Phonology.” Jour- nal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 10.1 (1995): 157–168. Singler, John Victor. “African Influence Upon Afro-American Language Varieties: A Con- sideration of Sociohistorical Factors.” In Africanisms in Afro-American Language Variet- ies, edited by Salikoko S. Mufwene with Nancy Condon, 235–53. Athens/London, GA: University of Georgia Press, 1993. ——. “Phonology in the Basilect: The Rate of Final Consonants in Liberian Interior Eng- lish.” Studies in African Linguistics 22.1 (1991): 1–44. Slaughter, M.M. Universal Languages and Scientific Taxonomy in the Seventeenth Century. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982. bibliography 319

Slavoff, Georgina R. and Jacqueline S. Johnson. “The Effects of Age on the Rate of Learning a Second Language,” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 17.1 (1995): 1–16. Slomanson, Peter A. “Hesseling and Van Ginneken on Language Contact, Variation and Creolization.” In Atlantic Meets Pacific: A Global View of Pidginization and Creolization, edited by Francis Byrne and John Holm, 419–427. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Ben- jamins Publishing Company, 1993. Smiley, Patricia and Trudy Salsberry. Effective Schooling for English Language Learners: What Elementary Principals Should Know and Do. Larchmont, NY: Eye on Education, 2007. Smith, Norval. The Genesis of the Creole Languages of Surinam. Ph.D. dissertation, Univer- sity of Amsterdam, 1987. ——. “Very Rapid Creolization in the Framework of the Restricted Motivation Hypoth- esis.” In L2 Acquisition and Creole Genesis, edited by Claire Lefebvre, Lydia Whyte, and Christine Jourdan. 49–65. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins, 2006. Smith, Olivia. The Politics of Language 1791–1819. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984. Smitherman, Geneva. Talkin and Testifyin: The Language of Black America. Boston: Hough- ton Mifflin, 1977. Spencer, Herbert. “First Principles.” The Online Library of Liberty, 1867. Accessed April 1, 2007. http://oll.libertyfund.org/title/1390/99234 Spindler, George Dearborn. “The Processes of Culture and Person: Multicultural Class- rooms and Cultural Therapy.” Reprinted in Fifty Years of Anthropology and Educa- tion, 1950–2000: A Spindler Anthology, edited by George Dearborn Spindler, 365–388. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 2000. Accessed August 30, 2008. http:// books.google.com. Sprauve, Gilbert. “Chronological Implications of Discontinuity in Spoken and Written Dutch Creole.” Journal of the College of the Virgin Islands 5 (1997): 40–57. ——. “Dutch/English Creole Distancing: Historical and Contemporary Data Considered.” International Journal of the Sociology of Language 85 (1990): 41–50. ——. Lexical and Grammatical Distancing in English Creole to Dutch Creole Translation. ms, 1986. ——. Pre- and Post Emancipation: Language Development in the Virgin Islands. U.S. Virgin Islands: Project Emancipation: A Second Look, 1981. Spriggs, Amelia and Seungheui Lee. Cultural Assumptions and Grammar. ms, 2008. Sprouse, Rex A. “Full Transfer and Relexification: Second Language Acquisition and Creole Genesis.” In L2 Acquisition and Creole Genesis, edited by Claire Lefebvre, Lydia Whyte and Christine Jourdan, 169–181. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2006. Sridhar, Shikaripur N. “Sources of Bias in SLA Research. Monolingual Bias in SLA Research [and] A Reality Check for SLA Theories.” TESOL Quarterly 28.4 (1994): 800–805. Stampe, David. A Dissertation on Natural Phonology. NY: Garland, 1979. Stein, Peter. “Les Premiers Créolistes: Les Frères Moraves á St. Thomas au XVIIIe.” Amster- dam Creole Studies 5 (1986): 53–91. ——. “. . . And They Only Remembered and Used It When They Succeeded to Give It Sense.” ms, n.d.b. ——. “. . . The Dresden Edition Project of the Complete Manuscript of C.G.A. Oldendorp’s Mission History.” ms, n.d.a. ——. Kreolisch und Französisch. Türbingen: Niemeyer, 1984. Steinberg, Faith and Elaine K. Horowitz. “The Effect of Induced Anxiety on the Denota- tive and Interpretive Content of Second Language Speech.” TESOL Quarterly 20.1 (1968): 131–136. Steinmüller, Ulrich. “Language Acquisition, Biography, and Bilingualism.” In Current Issues in Second Language Acquisition and Development, edited by Carol A. Blackshire-Belay, 95–118. Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1994. 320 bibliography

Stewart, J.M. “Tongue Root Position in Akan Vowel Harmomy.” Phonetica 16 (1967): 185– 204. Stolz, Thomas. Gibt es das kreolische Sprachwandelmodel? Vergleichende Grammatik des Negerholländischen. Frankfurt/Bern/NY: Peter Lang, 1986. ——. “The Prosodic Properties of Negro-Dutch: On the Interrelationship Between Stress, Pitch, Vowel Quality, and Vowel Quantity.” Amsterdam Creole Studies 5 (1983): 53–92. Stolz, Thomas and Pieter Stein. “Language and History in the Former Danish Antilles: Non- linguistic Evidence for a Diachronic Description of the Negro Dutch Language.” Amster- dam Creole Studies 9 (1986): 103–122. Strange, Winifred and Valerie L. Shafer. “Speech Perception in Second Language Learners: The Re-education of Selective Perception.” In Phonology and Second Language Acqui- sition, edited by Jette G. Hansen Edward and Mary L. Zampini, 153–191. Amsterdam/ Philadelphia: Johns Benjamins Publishing Company, 2008. Straus, Claudia and Naomi Quinn. A Cognitive Theory of Cultural Meaning. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Swain, Merrill. “Communicative Competence: Some Roles of Comprehensible Input and Comprehensible Output in its Development.” In Input in Second Language Acquisi- tion, edited by Susan M. Gass and Carolyn G. Madden, 235–253. Rowley, MA: Newbury House, 1985. ——. “Three Functions of Output in Second Language Learning.” In Principle and Practice in Applied Linguistics: Studies in Honour of H.G. Widdowson, edited by Guy Cook and Barbara Seidlhofer Seidlhofer, 125–44. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995. Swift, Jonathan. “A Proposal for Correcting, Improving, and Ascertaining the English Tongue.” Corpus of Electronic texts, 1997–2010. Original work published in 1712. Accessed February 2, 2008. http://www.ucc.ie/celt/published/E700001-017/index.html Taglimonte, Sally. “English . . . and them! Form and Function in Comparative Perspective.” American Speech 75.4 (2000): 405–409. Tahta, Sonja, Margaret Wood, and Kate Loewenthal. “Age Changes in the Ability to Repli- cate Foreign Pronunciation and Intonation.” Language and Speech 24.4 (1981): 363–372. Tarone, Elaine. “Some Influences on the Syllable Structure of Interlanguage Phonology.” International Review of Applied Linguistics 18.2 (1980): 139–152. Taylor, Charles Edwin. Leaflets from the Danish West Indies. London: Wm. Dawson and Sons, 1888. Taylor, Douglas Rae. “Grammatical and Lexical Affinities of Creoles.” In Pidginization and Creolization of Languages, edited by Dell Hymes, 293–296. Cambridge: Cambridge Uni- versity Press, 1971. ——. “Review of De Saramakaanse Woordenschat.” International Journal of American Lin- guistics 30.4 (1964): 434–439. Thomason, Sarah G. “Contact-induced Language Change and Pidgin/Creole Genesis.” In Creolization and Contact, edited by Norval Smith and Tonjes Veenstra, 249–262. Amster- dam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2001. Thomason, Sarah G. and Terrence Kaufman. Language Contact, Creolization, and Genetic Linguistics. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988. Thornton, John. Africa and Africans in the Making of the Atlantic World, 1400–1680. Cam- bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992. Tiersma, Peter M. Legal Language. Chicago/London: The University of Chicago Press, 1999. Tomlin, Russell S. and Victor Villa. “Attention in Cognitive Science and Second Language Acquisition.” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 16.2 (1994): 183–203. Trouillot, Michael-Rolf. “Culture on the Edges: Caribbean Creolization in Historical Con- text.” In From the Margins: Historical Anthropology and its Futures, edited by Brian Keith Axel, 189–210. Durham, NC/London: Duke University Press, 2002. Trudell, Barbara. “Multilingualism in Sub-Saharan Africa: Describing a Phenomenon, Leveraging a Resource.” n.d. Accessed February 19, 2010. http://www.acalan.org/fr/ confeven/forum/communication_trudell.pdf. bibliography 321

Trudgill, Peter. “Colonial Dialect Contact in the History of European Languages: On the Irrel- evance of Identity to New-dialect Formation.” Language in Society 37.2 (2008): 241–280. Tuten, Donald N. “Identity Formation and Accommodation: Sequential and Simultaneous Relations.” Language in Society 37.2 (2008): 259–262. Tyson, George F. and Arnold R. Highfield. “Introduction.” In The Kamina Folk: Slavery and Slave Live in the Danish West Indies, edited by Arnold R. Highfield and George F. Tyson, xi–xvii. St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands: The Virgin Islands Humanities Council, 1994. Ullman, Michael T. “A Cognitive Neuroscience Perspective on Second Language Acquisi- tion: The Declarative/Procedural Model.” In Mind & Context in Adult Second Language Acquisition: Methods, Theory, and Practice, edited by Christine Sanz, 141–178. Washing- ton: Perspective, 2005. University of Copenhagen. “History—extended Version.” n.d. Accessed May 11, 2007. http:// www.ku.dk/enlgish/introduction/history_extended.htm. Valdman, Albert. “Creolization and Second Language Acquisition.” In Pidginization and Creolization as Language Acquisition, Roger Andersen, 212–234. Rowley, MA: Newbury House Publishers, Inc., 1983. ——. “Creolization as Second Language Acquisition.” In Theoretical Orientations in Creole Studies, edited by Arnold R. Highfield, 297–311. NY: Academic Press, 1980. ——. “Review of La Créolisation: Théorie, Applications, Implications.” Studies in Second Language Acquisition 27.3 (2005): 441–463. Valls, Rafael. What a Pistarckle: A Dictionary of Virgin Islands English Creole. St. John, U.S. Virgin Islands, 1981. ——. Ole Time Sayings: Proverbs of the West Indies. St. John, U.S. Virgina Islands, 1983. Van Coetsem, Frans. A General and Unified Theory of the Transmission Process in Language Contact. Heidelberg: Winter, 2000. ——. Loan Phonology and the Two Transfer Types in Language Contact. Dordrecht: Foris, 1988. van den Bergh, L. Ph. C. “Iets over het Neger-hollandsch.” In Taalkundig Magazijn of gemengde bijdragen tot de kennis der Nederduitsche taal 3.4 Compiled by A. De Jager (1840): 500–1. van der Voort, Hein and Pieter Muysken. “18th Century Reflexives Revisted.” In Creoliza- tion: The Early Stages. Papers presented at the workshop held in Amsterdam, 4–5 Septem- ber 1992, edited by Jacques Arends. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 1996. van Diggelen, Miep. “Negro Dutch.” Amsterdam Studies 2 (1978): 69–100. van Gelderen, A.R., Schoonen, K. de Glopper, J. Hulstijn, A. Simis, P. Snellings, and M. Stevenson. “Linguistic Knowledge, Processing Speed, and Metacognitive Knowledge in First-and Second-Language Reading Comprehension: A Componential Analysis.” Journal of Educational Psychology 96.1 (2004): 19–30. van Ginneken, J. Handboek der Nederlandsche taal. Deel I: De sociologische structure der nederlandsche taal. Nijmegen: Malmberg, 1913. van Hofwegen, Janneke. “The Evolution of /l/ Across Three Generations of African Ameri- cans.” A paper presented at SECOL LXXV, Knoxville, TN, ms, 2008. van Name, Addison. “Contributions to Creole Grammar.” Transactions of the American Philological Association 1 (1869–1870): 123–167. van Rossem, Cefas. “The Particle so in 18th Century Negerhollands: Typical Dutch or Genu- ine Negerhollands.” In Grammaticalization in Pidgins and Creoles. London: University of Westminster Press, 1996. van Rossem, Cefas and Hein van der Voort. Die Creol Taal. Amsterdam: Amsterdam Uni- versity Press, 1996. van Rossem, Cefas and Hein van der Voort. “Negerhollands.” In Linguistics in the Nether- lands, edited by F. Drijkonigen and Hengeveld, 105–115. 1993. VanPatten, Bill. “Input Processing in Adult Second Language Acquisition.” In Theories in Second Language Acquisition: An Introduction, edited by Bill VanPatten and Jessica Williams, 115–135. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 2008. 322 bibliography

Veenstra, Tonjes. Serial Verbs in Saramaccan: Predication and Creole Genesis. Den Haag: Holland Academic Graphics, 1996. Vermeer, Anne. “Bredth and Depth of Vocabulary in Relation to L1/L2 Acquisition and Frequency of Input.” Applied Psycholinguistics 22.2 (2001): 217–234. Voyages Database. Voyages: The Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade Database. 2009. Accessed April 16, 2010. http://www.slavevoyages.org. Wagner-Gough, K. and Evelyn Hatch. “The Importance of Input in Second Language Acquisition Studies.” Language Learning 25.2 (1975): 297–308. Wald, Benji. “Sub-Saharan Africa.” In Atlas of the World’s Languages. 2nd edition, edited by Christopher Moseley and R.E. Asher, 301–374. London/NY: Routledge, 2007. Walvin, James. Slavery and the Slave Trade. Jackson, MS: University of Mississippi Press, 1983. Ward, W.E.F. A History of Ghana. London: George Allen and Unwin, Ltd., 1966. Warner-Lewis, Maureen. Trinidad Yoruba: From Mother Tongue to Memory. Tuscaloosa, AL: University of Alabama Press, 1996. Wartenburger, I., H.R. Heekeren, F. Burchert, S. Heinemann, R. De Blester, and A. Vill- ringer. “Neural Correlates of Syntactic Transformations.” Human Brain Mapping. 22.1 (2003): 72–81. Washabaugh, William and Sidney M. Greenfield. “The Development of Atlantic Creole Languages.” In The Social Context of Creolization, edited by E. Woolford and W. Washa- baugh, 106–119. Ann Arbor, MI: Karoma Publishers, Inc., 1983. Watts, Richard. “From Polite Language to Educated Language.” In Alternative Histories of English, edited by Richard Watts and Peter Trudgill, 155–172. NY/London: Routledge, 2002. Weaver, Constance. “Teaching Grammar in the Context of Writing.” English Journal 85.7 (1996): 15–24. Weijnen, A. Zeventiende-eeuwse Taal. Zutphen: W.J. Thieme and Cie, 1952. Weindl, Andrea. “The Slave Trade of Northern Germany.” In Extending the Frontiers: Essays on the New Transatlantic Slave Trade Database, edited by David Eltis and David Richard- son, 250–271. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2008. Wekker, Herman. “Creolization and the Aquisition of English as a Second Language.” In Creole Languages and Language Acquisition, edited by Herman Wekker, 139–149. Berlin, NY: Mouton de Gruyter, 1996. ——. “Introduction.” In Creole Languages and Language Acquisition, edited by Herman Wekker, 1–31. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter and Co., 1996. West, Hans. “Beretning om det danske Eilande St. Croix I Vestindien, fra Juniimaaned 1789 til Juniimaaneds Udgang 1790.” Iris 3 (1791): 1–88. Westergård, Waldemar. The Danish West Indies Under Company Rule. NY: Macmillan Com- pany, 1917. Westermann, Diedrich. A Study of the Ewe Language. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1930. Originally published in 1907. Whinnom, Keith. “Linguistic Hybridization and the ‘Special Case’ of Pidigns and Creoles.” In Pidginizaiton and Creolization of Languages, edited by Dell Hymes, 91–115. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971. Wierzbicka, Anna. English Meaning and Culture. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006. Wilks, Ivor. “The Rise of the Akwamu Empire, 1650–1710.” Transactions of the Historical Society of Ghana 3 (1957): 99–136. Williams, James D. The Teacher’s Grammar Book, 2nd edition. NY: Routledge, 2005. Williamson, Kay. “Niger-Congo Overview.” In The Niger-Congo Languages: A Classification and Description of Africa’s Largest Language Family, edited by John Bendor-Samuel and Ronda L. Hartell, 3–45. NY: University of America Press, 1989. Williamson, Kay and Roger Blench. “Niger-Congo.” In African Languages: An Introduction, edited by Bernard Heine and Derek Nurse, 11–42. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. bibliography 323

Winford, Donald. “Contact-Induced Changes.” Diachronica 22.2 (2005): 373–42. ——. “Creole Formation in the Context of Contact Linguistics.” Journal of Pidgin and Cre- ole Languages 12.1 (1997): 131–151. ——. “The Creole Continuum and the Notion of the Community as a Locus of Language.” International Journal of the Sociology of Language 71 (1988): 91–105. Wolfman, Walt. “A Forward to Speaking of Alabama.” In Speaking of Alabama, edited by Thomas Nunnally. Tuscaloosa, AL: University of Alabama Press (in press). Wolfram, Walt, Kirk Hazen, and Natalie Schilling-Estes. Dialect Change and Maintenance on the Outer Banks. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, for the American Dialect Society, 1999. Wolfram, Walt, Phillip Carter, and Becky Moriello. “Emerging Hispanic English: New Dia- lect Formation in the American South.” Journal of Sociolinguisitcs 8.3 (2004): 339–58. Wolfram, Walt and Thomas, Erik R. The Development of African American English. Oxford/ Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2002. Wollstonecraft, Mary. “Review of The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano or Gustavus Vassa, the African, Written by Himself.” Analytical Review, or History of Lit- erature, Domestic and Foreign no 4 (May): 28, 1789. ——. “Review of The Interesting Narrative.” Reprinted in The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, edited by Angelo Costanzo, 262. Peterborough, Ontario: Broad- view Literary Texts, 2001. Wong, Wayne. “Textual Enhancement and Simplified Input Effects on L2 Comprehension and Acquisition of Non-meaningful Grammatical Form.” Applied Language Learning 13.2 (2003): 109–132. Woolard, Kathryn A. “Introduction: Language Ideology as a Field of Inquiry.” In Language Ideologies, edited by Bambi Shieffelin, Kathryn A. Woolard, and Paul V. Kroskrity, 3–47. NY/Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998. ——. “Codeswitching.” In Companion to Linguistic Anthropology, Alessandro Duranti, 73–94. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing Ltd., 2004. Yoneyama, Kiyko, Mary E. Beckman, and Jan Edwards. “Phoneme Frequencies and Acqui- sition of Lingual Stops in Japanese.” 2011. Accessed March 20, 2011. www.ling.ohio-state .edu/~mbeckman. Young-Scholten, M. “Second Language Syllable Simplifications: Deviant Development or Deviant Input?” In New Sounds 97, edited by Jonathan Leather and Alan James. Klagen- furt, Austria: University of Klagenfurt, 351–360. Proceedings of the Third International Symposium on the Acquisition of Second Language Speech, 1997. ——. “The Negative Effects of ‘Positive’ Evidence in Phonology.” In The Current State of Interlanguage, edited by L. Eubank, Larry Selinker, and M. Sharwood Smith, 107–121. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 1995. Young-Scholten, M., M. Akita, and N. Cross. “Focus on Form in Phonology: Orthographic Exposure as a Prompter of Epenthesis.” In Pragmatics and Pedagogy: Proceedings of the Third PacSLRF. Vol. 2, edited by P. Robinson and J.O. Jungheim. Tokyo: Aoyama Gakuin University, 1999. Zelinsky, Wilbur. The Cultural Geography of the United States. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Pren- tice Hall, Inc., 1973. ——. The Enigma of Ethnicity: Another American Dilemma. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 2001. Zhu, Linxiang. Chinese American Adolescents’ Self-Perceived Identities and Their Language Behaviors. Ph.D. dissertation, Auburn University, AL, 2010. Zuengler, J. “Accommodation in Native-nonnative Interactions: Going Beyond the ‘What’ to the ‘Why’ in Second Language Research.” In The Context of Accommodation: Develop- ments in Applied, edited by Howard Giles, Nickolas Coupland, and Justine Coupland, 223–244. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992.

Author Index

Abbuhl, Rebekah 120 Berry, John W. 34 Abutalebi, Jubin 102, 108 Bertoncini, Elena 119 Abrahamsson, Niclas 85, 101 Bertrand-Bocandé, M. 27 Akoma, Chiji 18 Bialystok, Ellen 101–102, 109, 125, 128 Adamson, Lilian 28 Bickerstaff, Isaac 21 Aikhenvald, Alexandra Y. 171–174, Bickerton, Derek 8, 95 176–177, 187–190, 192 Birdsong, David 85, 101, 132 Akahane-Yamada, Reiko 135 Blackburn, Robin 16–17, 65 Akita, M. 153 Blench, Roger 128, 137 Algeo, John 47 Bloomfield, Leonard 117 Allen, Theodore W. 35, 57,74 Blumenbach, Johann Friedrich 18 Alleyne, Mervyn C. 3, 11, 13, 17, 19, 22–24, Bobda, AugustinSimo 100, 110 29, 33, 38, 41, 44–45, 79, 99, 108, 124, 130, Bongaerts, Theo 111, 117 145, 151, 158, 164 Bonnesend, Matthias 102 Allsopp, Richard 10, 31, 130, 140, 143, 152, Booij, Geert 102 178, 264 Bosch, G.B. 74 Alvarez-Torres, M. 108 Bosher, Susan 34 Ameka, Felix K. 36, 97, 173, 189 Bourdieu, Pierre 114, 122, 126, 155 Andersen, Roger 8 Bourhis, Richard Y. 34 Anderson, Janet I. 153 Bowden, Harriet Wood 101, 109, 112 Anquandah, James 129, 153 Bowles, Melissa A. 108 Arends, Jacques 44, 48, 64, 78–79, 83–84, Boyer, William C. 32, 37–38, 55–56, 69, 92, 109, 153 71, 74–75, 106–107 Arindell, Rhoda 7 Braidi, Susan 117, 120 Arredondo, Patricia 37 Braun, Maria 127 Ashburner, J. 101 Breedveld, Anneke 36 Austin, Vanessa 44 Brinton, Geert 23 Brooks, David C. 16 Bâ, A. Hampaté 17, 37 Brooks, George E. 32 Baa, Enid 57 Broselow, Ellen 128 Backus, Ad 100 Brown, C. 135 Bailey, Beryl Loftman 159 Brown, Penelope 8 Bailey, Charles-James N. 47 Brown, Soi-Daniel W. 84, 84 n 5, 105 n 5, Baker, Philip 8, 47, 64, 105, 152, 193 109 Bakker, Peter 53 Bruyn, Adrian A. 28, 40, 53, 64, 67, 72, Bardovi-Harlig, Kathleen 128, 185 130, 177, 193, 207 Bartlett, Kathy 85 Buccini, Anthony F. 47 n 10 Barulin, Aleksandr 165 Büchelc, Christian 102 Baugh, John 29 Bucholtz, Mary A. 32 Baumgaertnerb, Annette 102 Bybee, Joan A. 119 Becker, Al 110 Byrne, Francis 8, 99, 171 Beckman, Mary E. 119 Byrne, Jane 111 Beekman, Daniel 21 Beermann, Dorothee 173 Carretta, Vincent 21, 23 Behrendt, Stephen D. 57, 64–65, 69, 74, Carrington, Lawrence D. 5, 45, 100 103, 106–108 Carstens, Johann Lorentz 21, 24, 35–39, Bendyshe, T. 18 48 n 11, 54 n 2, 56, 59, 64 n 10, 68, 73, 80, Berlin, Ira 43, 50, 63 80 n 1, 82, 108, 242, 268, 275–276 Berry, Diana Ramey 43 Cenoz, Jasone 109 326 author index

Chambers, Douglas B. 108 De Rochefort, Charles 21 Chambers, J.K. 102 n 2, 127, 200 Deutscher, Guy 14, 27 Charles-Luce, Jan 146 de Zurara, Gomes Eanes 17 Chaudenson, Robert 55, 127, 189 Diamond, Mary Stevens 159 Childs, Tucker F. 17, 47, 129, 171 Diaz, Rafel M. 109 Christaller, Reverend J. G. 136 Dixon, R.M.W. 171 Christensen, Jørgen Bach 73 Diesch, Eugen 135 Christie, Pauline 7–8, 34–35, 99, 159 Do Couto, Hildo Honório 16, 24 Christopher, Johan 53 Dookhan, Isaac 73 Chumbow, Beban Sammy 128 Dorian, Nancy C. 30, 155 Clahsen, Harald 31 Dörnyei, Z. 26 Clarke, Sandra 127 Doughty, Catherine 120 Clements, G.N. 136, 148 Droixhe, Daniel 14, 26 Coelho, Francisco de Lemos 24 Dryer, Matthew S. 124 Collins, James 12 DeBose, Charles E. 117 Condillac, Abbé Etienne Bonnot de 20 Du Tertre, Jean Baptiste 46 Conrad, Robert Edgar 17 Dyhr, Sebastian Adorjan 73, 89, 190, Cooley, Marianne 21 233 Cope, Joann 108 Corum, Micah 7 Eckert, Penny 32, 44 Costanzo, Angelo 21 Eckman, Fred R. 146, 154 Cotto, Lourdes Gonzáles 44 Edwards, Jan 119 Coulmas, Florian 5, 33, 49 Edwards, Walter 32, 45 Coupland, Nikolas 126 Eersel, Christian H. 26 Creissels, Dennis 159, 172, 176, 189 Elbow, Peter 13 Craik, I.M. 102, 125 Ellis, Nick C. 119 Crinion, J.T. 101 Ellis R. 125 Cross, N. 153 Eltis, David 2, 23, 64, 74, 103, 107–108 Crowley, Malcom 107 Ely, Christopher M. 120 Cutler, Cecilia 47 Equiano, Olaudah 39, 106–107, 129 Ericsson, K. Anders 26 Dalby, David A. 20 Eze, Eamanuel C. 19 Daniel, Michael 158, 164, 164 n 7, 165 D’Costa, Jean 276 Fage, J.D. 17, 23 Davidian, Richard D. 153 Faraclas, Nicholas 7, 171 De Booy, Theodoor 74–57 Faris, John T. 74, 75 Debrunner, H. 106 Faudree, Michael C. 150, 154 Defoe, Daniel 16 Feagin, Crawford 45, 47 De Blester, R. 102 Feinberg, Harvey M. 105 deGlopper, K. 109 Ferguson, Charles A. 117, 141 Degraff, Michel 8 Fernádez-Garcia, M. 108 deJong, R. 58 n 6 Flege, James E. 102, 125, 134, 153 de Jong, Jan Petrus Benjamin 6, 8, 33 Fordham, Signithia 34 n 4, 72, 76, 87, 92, 94–95, 136, 139, 143, Fought, Carmen 31, 34, 36 145–146, 151–152, 157, 161, 164–165, 174, Fox-Weber, C. 101 181–182, 184, 192, 205–206 Frackowiak, R.S. 101 de Klein, Christa 53, 64, 80, 186, 194 Frant Hecht, Barbara 141 DeKeyser, Robert M. 118 Fridland, Valerie 45, 85 de Marees, Pieter 24 n 2, 104, 105 n 6 Fries, Adelaide L. 81 den Besten, Hans 53, 63–64, 67, 67 n 13, Firth, Alan 31 72, 77, 80, 81, 86 n 6, 95, 97 n 9, 118, 130, Froger, François 51, 56 134, 141, 144, 147–148, 159 n 3, 162, 164, 164 n 7, 166, 183, 191, 192 n 11, 193 Gardner, R. 110, 111, 112 de Pommegorge, Pruneau 106 Gascoigne, John 18 author index 327

Gass, Susan 101, 106, 108, 109, 110, 111, 116, Hansen, Doris 111 117, 120, 125, 153 Hansen Edwards, Jette G. 31, 120, 150 Gates, Henry Louis 26 Harris, Joseph A. 16 Gee, James Paul 34, 44, 45 Haspelmath, Martin 53 Genesse, Fred 109 Hatch, Evelyn 120 Gilbert, Glenn 24, 36, 83, 86 Haynes, Marisol Joseph 44 Giles, Howard 34, 111, 112 Hazaël-Massieux, Guy 28 Gilman, Charles 5, 129, 130 Hazen, Kirk 45 Gjessing, A.I.A. 58 He, Agnes Weiyun 31 Gjessing, Frederick C. 69, 70, 91 He, X. 125 Gøbel, Erik 54, 55 n 3, 64, 73, 108 Head, Anna Ruth 45 Goddard, Ives 105 Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich 22 Goetz, Peggy J. 109 Heine, Bernd 97, 119, 124 n 4, 175, 176, 194 Gonzales-Lopez, Candida 7 Heinemann, S. 102 Goldschneide, Jennifer M. 118 Hellan, Lars 173 Goldsmith, Oliver 22, 22 n 1 Helms-Park, R. 190, 191, 192 Goodman, Morris 54, 57, 58, 59, 67, 105, Hennessy, Alistair 269 110, 130, 248 Herbert, Thomas 20 Gordon, Elizabeth 127 Herder, Johann Gottfired 26 Goslinga, Cornelis Charles 67 Hernæs, Per 43, 105 Graff, David 237 Hernandez, A.E. 102 Gramberg, Anne-Katirn 36, 91, 94 Herskovitz, Melvin J. 37 Graves, Anne Victoria 6, 37, 72, 74, 79, Hesseling, Dirk Christiaan 8, 24, 28, 74, 80, 83, 85, 89, 94, 95, 154, 162, 167, 174, 89, 93–95, 143, 165, 167, 192 n 11, 199 181, 182, 183, 190, 205, 229 n 14, 233, 239, Herrnstein, Richard J. 29 248, 252, 264, 274, 286 Hewitt, Roger 47 Green, David W. 102, 108 Highfield, Arnold R. 10, 16, 36, 41, 44, Greenberg, Joseph 27, 130, 145, 171 65–67, 69, 79–81, 84 n 5, 107–108, 199, Greenfield, William 42 201 Greenfield, Sidney M. 42 Hinnenkamp. V. 193 Green-Pedersen, Svend P. 55, 69, 91 Hinskens, Frans 80, 82 n 3, 124, 159, 161, Grillo, R.D. 12, 14, 20, 90 167, 167 n 9, 168 Grimm, Jacob 27 Hobbs, Thomas 18 Grosjean, François 109 Hockett, Charles F. 91 Gros-Louis, Michel 20 Hodgen, Margaret T. 5, 16–17, 19–23, Gueye, Mbaye 66, 70, 106 26–27, 30, 37 Guirty, Geraldo 72 Hodine, Barbara 146, 153 Gumperz, John 34 Hoenigswald, Henry 91 Guyatt, Nicholas 16, 22, 92 Hofmann, J. 102 Holliday, Lloyd 120 Hågensen, Reimert 46 Holloway, Joseph E. 66 Hakuta, Kenji 101 Holm, John 4, 28, 47, 73, 110, 130, 145, 158, Hair, P.E.H. 16, 20 164, 188 Hall, Jennifer 36 Holmes, Janet 114 Hall, Kira 32 Hooper, Paul 119 Hall, Neville A. 28, 35, 36, 38, 39, 44, Horlacher, Gary 53–57, 58 n 6, 63, 70 64 n 10, 66, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 91, Horowitz, Elaine K. 108 91 n 7, 103 n 3, 113, 118, 203, 206, 239 Horowitz, Michael B. 108 Hall, Robert 117 Hu, Min 109 Hallé, Pierre A. 148 Huber, Magnus 53 Halsall, Paul 20 Hulstijn, J. 109 Hammett, Maxwell 26 Hume, David 14, 19 Hancock, Ian 64, 116 Hünnermeyer, Friederike 97, 119, 124 n 4, Handler, Jerome 85, 151 175–176, 194 328 author index

Hyde, Janet S. 112 Kovács, Ánges Melinda 109 Hyltenstam, Kenneth 85, 101 Kowenberg, Silvia 8, 28–29, 117 Hyman, Larry M. 130 Krampe, Ralf Th. 26 Krashen, Steven 8 n 5, 108 Igwe, Leo 17 Kretzschmar, William J. 13, 119, 127, 205 Illich, Ivan 13, 15 Kropp Dakubu, Mary Ester 66, 128, 137, Ingram, David 141 145, 158, 173 Ioup, Georgette 101, 109 Kuhl, Patricia K. 99, 101, 119, 146, 151 Irvine, Jacqueline 110 Kusters, Wouter 26 Isert, P.E. 36 Iverson, Paul 135 Laberge, Suzanne 104 Izumi, Shinichi 125 La Condamine, Charles Marie De 21 Labov, William 29, 31–32, 34, 44–46, 104, Jacques, T. Carolos 17, 23 119, 200 James, Winford 158 LaCharité, Darlene 109, 125, 129 Jansen, Bert 181–183, 189, 192 Ladefoged, Peter 136, 142 Jensen, Arthur R. 29 Lafitau, Joseph-François 17 Jensen, Kristian 90 Lalla, Barbara 276 Jensen, Tore 158 Lalonde, R.N. 112 Jia, Gisla 118 Lamb, Martin 111 Jiang, Nan 126 Lambert, Wallace E. 109 Johnson, Dora 46 Language Department 115 Johnson, Jacqueline S. 113 La Rosa, Zhenja 13 Johnson, Samuel 14 Larsen, Jens 4,29, 53, 73, 89, 94 Jordan, Winthrop D. 18–19 Larsen-Freeman, Diane 118 Jordens, Peter 105 Law, Robin 24 Jourdan, Christine 8 LeCompte, Pier Angelli 7 Jusczyk, Peter W. 146 Lee, Seungheui 15 Leets, Laura 112 Kachru, Yamuna 30, 100, 111 Lefebvre, Clair 8 Kandiah, Thiru 32 Leow, Ronald P. 108 Kaufman, Terrence 99 Le Page, Robert B. 2, 31–33, 59, 62, 64, Kasper, Gabriele 120 119, 126, 136 Kea, Ray A. 38, 48, 48 n 11, 64, 68 Leung Yan Kit, Ingrid 109 Keller, Albert Galloway 36, 38 Lewis, G.K. 55 Kerswill, Paul 114 Lewis, Mathew Gregory 43 Kettermann, Andreas 135 Lewis, Nora 102 Khan, Zaved Ahmed 108 Lewisohn, Florence 73 Kidd, Robert Stevens 35 Levinson, Steven C. 8 Kingo, Købitz Thomsen 53 Liebst, Bente 71, 89, 202 Klein, A. Norman 36, 66 Liewil 257 Klein, Herbert 64, 74, 103, 107–108 Lin, Yuh-Huey 113, 153–154 Klein, Raymond 102, 125 Linn, Marcia C. 112 Klein, Thomas B. 135, 144–145 Linnaeus, C. 18–19 Knight, David W. 53–54, 56–57, 58 n 6, Liu, S. 102, 125 63, 70 Loewenthal, Kate 102 Knight, Franklin W. 59 Long, Edward 24 Knox, John P.A. 38, 54 Long, Michael H. 108 Koerner, E.F.K. 27 Lord, Carol 183 Köhler, Oswin 22 Loschky, Lester C. 120, 124 Kohls, Robert 41 Lovejoy, Paul E. 36, 36 n 5, 37, 65–66, Koopman, Hilda 181–183, 189, 192 106, 128–129 Korom, Frank J. 34 Lovelace, Earl 10 Kotz, S.A. 102 Low, Ruth Hull 68, 72 author index 329

Lowth, Robert 14 Mugglestone, Lynda 14 Luce, Paul A. 146 Mühlhäusler, Peter 21, 24, 28, 52, 80, 100 Luján, M. 112 Müller, Friedrich 27 Lynch, Jack 14 Mullin, Michael 35–37, 43, 55, 62, 81, 100, 118 MacKay, Ian 102 Murray, Charles 29 Mackey, Allison 116, 120, 125 Muysken, Pieter 2 n 3, 26–28, 31, 53, 80, MacIntyre, Peter D. 111 92, 95–96, 130, 148, 148 n 4, 149, 153, 171, Maddieson, Ian 145 181–183, 189–192, 196, 199 Magens, Joachim Melchoir 6, 11, 47, 55, 71, 80, 90, 94, 97, 120, 138, 141, 143, 145–146, Nadel, Siegfried F. 34 154, 157, 161, 165, 165 n 8, 186 n 9, 190, Nathan, Geofrey S. 140 193–194, 194 n 13, 195, 201, 204–205, 233 Neergård, Lauran 117 Maguire, Gabrielle 155 Nelson, Frank 6, 72, 76, 161, 233 Maher, Julianne 26, 46 Nero, Shondel J. 30–31, 111–112 Major, Roy C. 140, 143, 146, 150, 153–154 Neville, Helen J. 101 Mannix, Daniel P. 107 Nicholls, Particia 46 Markey, T.L. 67, 94–95 Nida, Eugene A. 117 Markey, William Francis F. 72 n 15 Noppeney, U. 101 Marren, Susan 26 Nørregård, Georg 64, 108 Marrou, Henri Irénéé 12 Masuda, Hinako 135 O’Doherty, J. 101 Mather, Patrick-André 100 Ogbu, John U. 34 Matthews, J. 135 Oggs, Anna 151 Maurer, Philippe 53 Oldendorp, Christian Georg Andreas 6, Mbouya, Innocent Fasse 100, 110 33, 39, 39 n 7, 43, 53, 57, 71, 72 n 14, 78, McClean, William P. 69–70, 91 83–85, 97, 109, 118–119, 137 n 3, 140–141, McWhorter, John 2, 4, 28, 97, 116, 127, 236 143, 148, 151–152, 167, 190, 196, 233 Mechelli, A. 101 Oliver, Rhonda 120 Meek, Ronald L. 16, 23 Olwig, Karen Fog 35–38, 41–44, 48, 69, Mehler, Jacques 109 72, 82–84 Meier, Gudrun 83–84 O’Reilly, Bill 11 Meijer, Guss 27–28, 95, 171, 199 Osam, E.K. 189 Meisel, Jürgen 31, 100, 123 n 3, 131 n 8 Owomoyela, Oyekan 36–37, 110, 212 n 10 Merolla, Girolama 20 Meyer, Margaret 36 Page, Willie F. 37, 107 Michaels, Suzanne 53 Paiewonsky, Isidor 36, 66, 74 Migge, Bettina 116, 181, 189 Paradis, Johanne 109 Mignolo, Walter D. 20 Parkvall, Mikael 9, 64, 67, 80, 114, 158, Miller, Joseph C. 42 158 n 2, 159, 160 n 4, 162, 176, 181–183, Minaya, L. 112 189, 191, 194 Mintz, Sidney W. 35, 42, 43 n 9, 45–47, Patrick, Peter L. 4, 8, 45–46 62, 99, 131 Paxman, David B. 17, 20–21 Moehringd, Anja 102 Peal, Elizabeth 109 Monboddo, James Burnett, Lord 26 Perani, Daniella 102, 108 Monroe, B.S. 14 Peirce, Bonny Norton 31, 45, 111, 122 Moorcroft, R. 112 Perbi, Akosua 36 Morgan, Marcyliena 34 Perdue, Clive 105 Morgan, Philip D. 43, 59, 63, 66 Pereira, Duarte Pacheco 17 Moriello, Becky 34 Pescatello, Ann M. 35 Morris, Roderick Conway 14, 205 Pica, Terry 120 Morrissey, Marietta 55 Pienemann, Manfred 31 Mufwene, Salikoko 47 n 10, 99, 127, 176, Pierre, Jean Ourdy 7 189 Piske, Thorsten 102, 134 330 author index

Plag, Ingo 99, 129, 131, 133, 137, 145, Schoonen, R. 109 148–149, 153 Schuchardt, Hugo 67, 72, 76, 94, 171 Pontoppidan, Eric 10, 36, 72, 74, 92–93, Schultze, Ernst 37 97, 139, 157 n 1, 202, 209–233 Schumann, John H. 111 Postma, Johannes Menne 24, 24 n 2, 106, Sebba, Mark 171 152 Selinker, Larry 101, 106, 109–111, 116, 125, Preston, Denis R. 12, 115, 155 153 Price, C.J. 101 Sénéchal, Monique 125 Price, Richard 4, 35, 42, 43 n 9, 47, 62, 99, Sensbach, Jon 21,38–39, 43–44, 56, 66–67, 131–3, 199 70, 81–84, 92, 118, 123 Priestly, Joseph 12, 15, 155 Séris, Jean-Pierre 12 Prohl, Kenneth J. 81 Seuren, Pieter M. 20, 27, 94, 126 Protten, Christian 67 Sey, Kofi Abakah 141, 154 Shafer, Valerie L. 102, 135 Quinn, Naomi 41 Shehadeh, Ali 120 Sheppard, Verne A. 37 Rampton, Ben 47 Sheridan, Thomas 15 Rampton, M.B.H. 31 Shuler, Kristina Andrea 39 Rask, Rasmus 158 n 2 Siebert, Claudia 135 Rawley, James A. 57, 65, 69, 74, 106–107 Siegel, Jeff 31, 99, 111, 117, 191, 125–127 Raynal, Abbé 21 Simis, A. 109 Redden, J.E. 138 Simmonds-McDonald, Hazel 30 Reinecke, John E. 24, 27–29, 37, 72–74, Singh, Rajendra 148–149, 153 92–95, 99, 167, 233 n 1 Singler, John 129, 150–151, 153 Reisman, Karl 45 Slaughter, M.M. 18 Riccciardelli, LinaAnglea 109 Slavoff, Georgina R. 113 Richardson, David 23, 64, 74, 103, 107–8 Slomanson, Peter A. 94 Rickford, John Russell 34, 41, 45–46, 85, Smiley, Patricia 108, 124 97, 151, 158, 162 Smith, Norval 26, 42, 64, 112, 116 Ringbom, Håkan 129 Smith, Olivia 20, 90 Rivera Castillo 137 Smitherman, Geneva 34 Robbins, R.H. 27 Snellings, P. 109 Roberts, Peter A. 17, 21, 24, 37, 43, 105 n Spencer, Herbert 22 7, 107, 113 Spindler, George Dearborn 5 Roberts, Sarah Julianne 32, 194 Sprauve, Gilbert 4, 14, 28, 53, 64, 71–72, Roof, Erin 48 74–75, 84–85, 90, 96, 184, 193, 202, 249 Rosec, Michael 102 Spriggs, Amelia 115 Rumsey, Allan 15 Sprouse, Rex A. 100 Sridhar, Shikaripur N. 100, 114 Sabino, Robin 36, 53, 59, 67, 67 n 13, 73, Stafford, Catherine A. 101, 109, 112 91, 94, 96, 145, 159, 195, 237 Stampe, David 141 Sagard, Fr. Gabriel 20 Stein, Peter 47, 53, 61, 63, 68, 80, 82, Salisbury, R.F. 52 84–85, 167, 193, 271 Salsberry, Trudy 108, 124 Steinberb, Faith 108 Sanders, Gail 62 Steinmüller, Ulrich 112 Sankoff, David 112 Stevenson, M. 109 Sankoff, Gillian 33, 104, 114, 131, 155 Stewart, J.M. 137 Sanz, Christina 101, 109, 112 Stolz, Thomas 53, 61, 63, 68, 97, 183, 191 Sato, Charlene 146, 151, 153 Strange, Winifred 102, 135 Saura, Dorothee 102 Straus, Claudia 41 Schachter, Paul 141, 171–173 Swain, Merrill 125 Schilling-Estes, Natalie 45 Swift, Jonathan 14 Schmidt, Johan Christian 43 Schmidt, Richard 12, 26, 108, 120, 125 Tabouret-Keller, André 2 n 3, 31–32 Schneider, Edgar W. 5, 7, 47, 91, 116, 200 Taglimonte, Sally 164 n 7 author index 331

Tahta, Sonja 102 Viada, Marta 7 Takayuki, Arai 135 Villa, Victor 108 Tarone, Elaine 146, 151, 153 Villringer, A. 102 Taylor, Charles Edwin 38, 63, 63 n 9, 67, Viswanathan, Mythili 102, 125 201, 203 Taylor, Douglas Rae 97, 130, 158, 268 Wagner, Johannes 31 Taylor, Michael 34 Wagner-Gough, K. 129 Tescher-Romer, Clemens 26 Wald, Benji 128, 138, 140 Tettamanti, Marco 102, 108 Walvin, James 37, 107 Thiede, Ralf 195 Ward, W.E.F. 42, 65–66 Thomas, Erik R. 34 Warner-Lewis, Maureen 42, 46, 85, Thomason, Sarah G. 46, 99 152, n 6 Thornton, John 35, 37, 42, 66, 105 Wartenburger, I. 102 Tiersma, Peter M. 13–14 Washabaugh, William 42 Tohkura, Yoh’ich 135 Watts, Richard 13, 15, 20 Tomlin, Russell S. 108 Weaver, Constance 13 Trouillot, Michael-Rolf 5, 29, 36, 42 Weijnen, A. 13 Trudell, Barbara 109 Weindl, Andrea 63, 65 Trudgill, Peter 126–127 Wekker, Herman 8, 100, 117, 126 Tuten, Donald N. 32 West, Hans 73 Tyson, George F. 36, 41, 44, 65–66, 69, Westergård, Waldemar 4, 48, 54 n 2, 79–80, 108 55–56, 56 n 4, 58, 60–61, 63–64 Westermann, Diedrich 68, 108, 207, 239 Ullman, Michael T. 101–102, 112 White, Lydia 8 Ulrike, Claudi 176 Wierzbicka, Anna 32, 34 University of Copenhagen 89 Wilks, Ivor 16, 65–66, 66 n 12 Williams, James D. 12–13 Valdman, Albert 2 n 3, 8, 55, 99, 127 Williamson, Kay 22, 128, 137 Valls, Raphael 32 n 2, 68, 72, 152, 171 Winer, Lise 47 van Coetsem, Frans 126 Winford, Donald 9, 28, 46, 91 n 8, 126 van den Bergh, L.Ph.C. 24, 92 Wolfram, Walt 5, 34, 45 van der Voort, Hein 6, 24, 63, 80, 97, 130, Wollstonecraft, Mary 21 141, 159 n 3, 183, 191, 193 Wood, Margaret 102 van Hoefwegen, Janneke 45 Wong, Wayne 116 van Diggelen, Miep 73, 80, 179–181, 186, Woolard, Kathryn A. 11, 20, 27, 30, 186 n 9, 196 99–100 van Gelderen, A.R. 109 van Ginneken, J. 28, 159 Yeni-Komshian, G. 102, 125 van Name, Addison 27, 29, 92, 100, 145 Yoneyama, Kiyko 119 van Rossem, Cefas 6, 9, 24, 80, 124, 159, Young, Richard 120 161, 167, 167 n 9, 168 Young-Scholten 153 VanPatten, Bill 108, 119, 124 York, Darlene 110 Varonis, Evangeline Marlos 116–117, 120 Veenstra, Tonjes 28, 46, 53, 64, 67 n 13, Zafar, Shahila 108 72, 100, 130, 177, 182, 193, 196 Zelinsky, Wilbur 34, 52, 153 Vergne, Aida 44 Zuengler, J. 117 Vermeer, Anne 118 Zhu, Linxiang 31 Subject index

Accommodation 126 African people 18–19, 22, 24, 35, 43, 55, Africa 13, 16–18, 21–22, 54, 81 n 2, 104, 129, 65–66, 69, 123, 205; African adults 104, 209, 213; Bight of Benin 66; Central 135, 141, 203, 207; African children 36, Africa 66; Gold Coast 16, 66, 105; 102–104, 103 n 3; African men 113, Guinea 16, 25 n 3; North Africa 18; 207; Akwamu 66, 66 n 2; Amina 68; Slave Coast 82, 129; South Africa 47; Akan 32 n 2, 36, 42, 66, 129, 129 n 5, sub-Saharan Africa 11, 128, 145, 171, 212 133; Ewe 66; Ga 66–67, 109, 129; n 10; West Africa 16, 19, 32, 36, 65, 104, Gbe 66, 133; Hottentot 19–20 133–134 African/Afro-Caribbean population 127 African-American bond labor 57; Afro-Caribbean adults 2, 57, 61, 63, 72, African-American community 45; 75, 103–104, 135, 141; Afro-Caribbean African-American people 23, 24 n 2, children 2, 46–47, 56–57, 61–63, 71–72, 29, 34, 45, 48, 110; African-American 75, 77, 102–103, 103 n 3, 104, 114, 146, 155, language varieties 45, 94 203; Afro-Caribbean population 8, 11, African culture 10, 33, 35, 45, 81, 100, 110, 28–29, 37–38, 41, 44, 46–47, 49, 52–55, 130; African aesthetics 35, 81; cultural 57, 59, 60–63, 60 n 8, 67, 69, 71, 76–78, persistence 21; African kinship 32, 84, 91, 100 n 1, 103–104, 113, 160, 191, 203, 36, 37, 59; orality 36; African 206; Afro-Caribbean men 37, 56–57, physiology 28 62–63, 91, 92; Afro-Caribbean women African population stability 101, African 21, 56–57, 62–63, 71, 83, 91; free(d) proverb 17; African religion 36, 81; population 24, 38–39, 44, 53, 55, 58 African socialization practices 110; n 6, 70–76, 78, 84, 91, 202; also African world view 33, 41–42, 200 see Sex African Diaspora 1, 2, 23, 81, 207 Afro-Caribbean vernacular 2, 26–27, 29, African heritage languages 4–5, 17, 24 33, 52, 64, 95–96, 99, 115–116, 134, 145, n 2, 25, 28, 46–47, 53, 59, 69–70, 75, 157–159, 168, 171, 181, 189, 199, 204; 109–110, 114, 118, 125–127, 129–130, 134, Anglophone 151; Antigua 193; 136–138, 140, 145, 148, 152, 154, 159, 164, Barbados 193; Cayenne 193; 166, 171, 181, 189, 202, 205, 213; African Curaçao 26, 53–54, 130 n 6, 192 linguistic features 85; Akan 32, n 11, 193; Dutch lexicon creole 207; 67, 97, 109, 123–124, 128–129, 137, 141, Guyana 32, 158, 162, 193; Haiti 3; 145–146, 158, 164, 171–173, 181, 183, Jamaica 3, 24, 59, 100, 158–159, 162; 189; Akwamu 146; Amina 109, Martinique 22, 26, 46; St. Vincent Bantu 140, 152; Ewe36, 67, 67 n 13, 97, 193; Surinam 24, 26, 64, 144, 181, 189, 124, 129, 133, 136, 139–143, 145–146, 158, 193; Tobago 158; Virgin Islands Dutch 164, 171, 173, 181–183, 183, 189; Efik 31; Creole 3, 6–8, 10, 47, 49–50, 53–54, Fante 33, 67, 129, 133, 139, 141–142, 58–59, 67–68, 70, 72, 74–89, 91–98, 102, 145–146, 158, 162; Ga 33, 124, 128, 133, 134, 146, 159, 161, 168, 173, 189, 192, 196, 136–137, 139, 140–143, 145–146, 202, 205–207, 211 n 7, 225 n 3; Virgin 158, 162, 171, 181, 183; Gbe 67, 128; Islands English Creole 3, 6, 8, 32 n 2, Hottentot 20; Kikoongo 152 n 6; 43, 50, 54, 70–73, 75–76, 78, 80, 84–87, Kimbundu 152; (New) Kwa 8–9, 33, 94, 96, 130 n 7, 152, 184, 191, 199, 200, 206; 65, 67, 75, 77–78, 97, 103–104, 114, 117–118, Negerhollands2, 2 n 3, 6–9, 15, 24, 28, 123–124, 127–128, 130–131, 133–136, 139, 32 n 2, 33 n 4, 36, 43, 46, 47–50, 52–54, 140–142, 145–149, 151, 153, 155, 157–158, 56, 59, 63–65, 67–68, 70–73, 75–80, 82, 160–161, 166, 168, 171, 181, 189, 191, 203; 84–89, 91–98, 101–105, 107–108, 113–114, Twi 31 n 1, 67, 129, 133, 136, 138–139, 116–117, 124, 126–130, 130 n 6, 131–137, 137 141–142, 145, 158, 181, 183; West African n 2 and, n 3, 138–148, 148 n 4, 149–160, 4, 33, 134, 148, 164, 171, 181, 189 160 n 4, 161–169, 171 n 1, 172–192, 192 n 11, subject index 333

193–194, 194 n 13, 195–197, 199–207; colonists 2, 22, 42, 46, 54 n 2, 55–57, 200; urban lect 91, 98, 100 n 1 elite 7, 38, 74–75, 77, 83 n 4, 91, 138, Agency 5, 7, 9, 26, 115–116, 120, 127, 131, 155; indenture 2, 38, 42, 54 n 2, 57–58, 199, 205; escape 37, 74, 106, 112, 118; 165 n 8; infrastructure 2, 23, 55–56, 62, insurrection 107; maroonage 39, 44, 73, 75, 103, 147; 64, 64 n 10, 68; resistance 10, 30, 34, Colonizers 10, 38, 71; Brandenberg 37–39, 41–43, 59, 81, 115–116, 133, 199, African Company47 n 10, 56–57, 59, 65; 202; suicide 37, 107; also see St. John 103; Britain 26, 52, 57, 65, 68, 73–74, Rebellion 76, 78, 193, 202, 205; Danish Vestindisk- Anthropological thought 7, 18, 23, 30, 200 guineisk Kompagnie 16, 52, 54, 56–57, Antagonism 9, 42, 49 59–60, 60 n 7, 117; Denmark 16, 41–42, Anxiety 71, 101, 108, 110–111, 125, 135; 54, 54 n 2, 67–68, 73, 75–76, 89; Danish fear 9, 38, 63, 84, 107, 111, also see neutrality 67; Danish slave trade 42, Involuntary behavior 57, 65–66, 66 n 12, 68, 73, 75–76, 89, 105, Archeology 7, 30, 35, 200 107–108; Dutch 4, 18, 20, 24 n 2, 52, Aspect 173, 176, 189, 191, 193–194, 196 ; 54–57, 65–66, 68, 73, 83, 105, 117; imperfective aspect 124, 149, 173 n 3, Portuguese 16, 24, 65, 104–105; 174–176, 193; perfect, aspect 124, 173, Sweden 57; also see European people 173 n 3, 177; progressive aspect 173, Communication 56, 131, 203; -174, 176–177, 193, 193 n 12 communication challenges 64, 126, 131, 136; communication context 113, 155; Bible 14, 17, 81; curse of Noah 17, 82; communication matrix 34, 64, 100, Dutch Bible 14, 82; English Bible 83; 203; communication pressures 99, New Testament 80, 202, 68, 195; 131, 191; communication strategies 46, Sranan Bible 24; Tower of Babel 17 114; intergroup communication 120, Bossart 84 131, 133–134, 147, 197, 203; miscommunication 34 Caribbean culture 3, 29, 35, 37, 42; also Community, Afro-Caribbean community see Culture 2, 7, 9–10, 24, 30, 37–39, 41, 44–46, Caribbean region 3–4, 10, 11, 13, 15, 17, 23, 48–50, 52–53, 53 n 1, 59, 64–65, 69, 24 n 2, 26, 30, 32–33, 35, 39–41, 45, 49, 70–72, 75–79, 81, 84, 91–92, 94, 98, 123, 57, 64–66, 69, 79, 81, 105 n 6, 108, 115, 132–133, 155, 169, 191, 197, 199, 201–202, 123, 133, 151, 154, 199, 205 205; community andcreole genesis 2 Chattel slavery 5, 19, 23, 32, 42, 49, 59, n 3, 5, 9–10, 23, 38, 78–79, 99, 116, 119, 81, 83, 116, 123, 200; abuse under 10, 123, 125–126, 129, 131, 134, 144, 199, 206; 15, 32–33, 38–39, 42, 44, 49, 84, community boundary 34, 35, also 106–107, 109–110, 112, 115–116, 135, 153, see Social boundary; Euro-Caribbean 200, 203, 205; agricultural worker 16, community 7, 10, 24 n 2, 37, 39, 45–46, 21, 36, 47, 68–69, 73, 91, 113; artisan 48; 48–50, 52, 57, 59, 68, 75, 78–79, 81, 98, 123, bomba 48, 68; bussal 48, 48 n 11; 125, 132, 134, 146, 155, 168–169, 192, 197, capture 42, 64, 106, 113, 124; 201, 204, 205; community emergence death 38–39, 49, 53, 55, 61–64, 107–108, 7, 9–10, 23, 33, 41–42, 44, 59, 75, 77, 79, 115, 124, 130, 200; displacement 49, 101, 134, 199, 203; community and identity 112; domestic worker 47–48, 68, 91, 32, 34, 49, 85, 127; linguistic community 120, 123, 191, 201; emancipation 41, 75; 32, 34, 49, 85, 127 legalstatus 112; imprisonment 42; Consultant 6, 72, 92, 95–96, 136, 138, 140, living conditions 24, 39, 48–49, 56; 165, 192; also see Mrs. Alice Stevens manumission 71, 91, 123; Middle Pas- Context, sociocultural 41, 45, 77, 98, 100, sage 42, 59, 102, 107–108, 205 126, 165; sociohistorical 9, 98, 110 Climate, intellectual 2, 7, 11–30, 77, 90, 200; Crossing 47 physical 17, 55; drought 39, 68, 106 Creole genesis 3–5, 7–10, 23–24, 46, 49, Cognitive deficit theory 29 52, 59, 64, 77–78, 94, 98–101, 106, Colonization 3, 20, 23, 35, 41, 46, 53, 68, 108–109, 116, 118, 123–124, 126, 130, 71, 89, 104, 115, 123, 134, 203; colonial 132–134, 145, 153–154, 157–158, 171, 181, administration 44, 71, 75; 197, 199–200, 203, 206 334 subject index

Culture 16; acculturation 50, 119; Genetic relatedness, see Distance, typological cultural orientation 17, 37, 85, 203; Generic reference 159 assimilation 29, 41, 28, 85, 112, 201; Germanic influence, see Lexifier language culture and language 11, 15, 23, 200–201; Grammar 15, 17, 27–29, 93, 95, 100, 101; culture and language learning 111–112; barbarous language 12, 14–15, 20, 24, culture and race 5, 7, 23, 27, 200; 90; language standardization 12–15, 23, cultural assumptions 17, 18, 20, 26; 28, 32, 52, 73, 82, 85, 95, 205; prescriptive cultural distance, see Distance; cultural grammar 8, 13–14, 21, 47, 55, 68, 76, development 17–20, 22, 26; cultural 89–90, 95, 97–98, 155, 190, 193, 202, 205; loyalty 133, 200; cultural practice 10, Traditional Grammar 12–15; 90, 93; 15–16, 28, 36–38, 41, 43–44, 70, 83, 110, 115, Structural Grammar 13; Universal 199, 200; culture shock 106; also see Grammar 100, 157; Grammatical African culture; European culture structure 2, 27, 33, 93, 131; also see Primitivism Darwin 27 Greek thought 12, 17 De Jong 76, 94–95, 165, 191 Gullah 45, 193 Depression 107, also see Anxiety Dictionary 27 Herder 26–27 Discourse 3, 33, 120; in Negerhollands Hesseling 24, 28, 93–93 9, 88, 91, 115, 177, 186, 189, 191, 196–197, Households 58–62, 68, 70, 77, 91, 103–104, 202 113–114, 118–119, 191, 200–201, 203 Distance, cultural 7, 34–35, 37, 42, 49, 112, 115, 194, 200; cultural determinism 27; Identity and language 7, 9, 30, 31–33, geographic 3, 5, 12, 20, 23, 35, 37, 45, 44, 49, 77, 112, 199, 200; community 52, 128; psychosocial 7, 31–32, 34–35, identity 43–44, 99, 133, 200; , local 49, 64, 94, 112, 115, 146, 194; typological identity 4, 7, 10, 30–32, 47, 67–68, 53, 94, 126, 128–129, 147, 160 77, 126, 146, 154, 197, 201; oppositional Diversity, cultural 35; human 18, 66, 70; identities 7, 34, 50, 79, 166, 203 linguistic 15, 26, 90, 100, 155 Ideology 5, 7, 13–15, 20, 24, 28, 30, 32–33, Doctrine of First Effective Settlement 35, 44, 85, 37, 42, 91, 99, 112 52 Idiom 176–177, 190–191, 193–194, 204 Indigenous people 1–2, 21, 23, 52, 56 Education 5, 15, 30, 37, 47, 141 Indirectness 36 Èmigré 54, 58, 58 n 6, 59 Innovation, linguistic 116 n 1, 117, 120, Ethnicity 37, 42, 46–47, 56, 71, 91 126–127, 131, 154, 158 Euro-Caribbean population 37–38, 46, input 9, 68, 85, 99, 100, 104, 116, 49, 54, 57, 61–64, 67, 71–72, 76–77, 118–120, 125; input frequency 118–119, 131, 206; Euro-Caribbean, heritage 121, 127, 234–135, 146–147, 191, 201; languages 7, 46, 165, 168, 197, 200, comprehensible input 85, 120, 128, 204, also see Language contact, koiné; 131, 203; input negotiation 9, 116, 120, Hoch Kreol 7–9, 21, 47, 49–50, 54–55, 122–123, 125–126, 128, 131, 189, 203; input 67–68, 75, 80, 84–85, 89–90, 93–98, 126, processing 9, 102, 108, 116, 123–124, 126, 137–140, 143, 145–149, 151–152, 155, 157, 128, 130–131, 135, 189, 203; input, quality 159, 160 n 4, 165–9, 173, 174 n 4, 189–191, 85, 111, 117, 120; input variability 9, 193–197, 200–205, 207 117–118, 128, 128, 155 European American community 29, 45, Interaction 8, 11, 34, 39, 46, 109, 114, 116, 47–48, 110 127, 133, 203; intergroup interaction 7, European culture 2, 13, 16, 18, 20, 22, 24, 45, 48, 107–108, 112, 133, 151, 155, 192, 26, 28, 35–36, 38, 42, 85, 91, 112, 200–201; 202–203, 205; intragroup interaction European languages see Lexifier 44, 46, 87, 112, 126, 131, 133–134, 146; also language; European people 1–2, 4, see Language Learning, interaction 8, 16–19, 23, 35, 43, 46, 49, 53–55, 84, Intentionality/investment 98, 101, 110–111, 107, 123–126, 130, 200, 203, also see 113, 117, 128, 200, also see Motivation Colonizers; Missionary activity Involuntary behavior 108 subject index 335

Language academy 14 Language processing 101–102, 108, 116, Language change 12–13, 26, 28, 91–92, 125–126, 129–130, 191–192, 196; also see 94–95, 104; convergence 100, 126–128; Input processing divergence 12, 34; borrowing 9, 32, Language production 125, 131, 154, 205 85, 91, 91 n 8, 104, 126, 131–132, 143, Language Standardization; see Grammar 168–169, 200; imposition 9, 91 n 8, Lexical learning 100–101 126, 131 Learning style 110 Language contact 10, 29, 117, 127, 129, Lexical fading 96 133; areal features 5 n 4, 126, 129, 131; Lexical retrieval 96 bi/muiltilingualism 29, 35, 72, 75, 98, Lexifier language 95, 136, 138–139–141, 101, 109–110, 114, 118, 125, 128–129, 203; 189, 201, 203; Baragouin 105; Danish contact variety 3, 21, 23–24, 26, 29, 203; Dutch 3, 53, 97 n 9, 105, 117, 46–48, 53, 77, 92, 104, -105, 118, 126, 201; 124, 130, 159, 203; English 3, 192, 203; decay 12, 17, 21–22, 27, 93, 95–96; German 57, 75, 82–83, 85; Germanic erosion 95; external pressure 9, 47, languages 8–9, 75, 77, 91, 100 n 1, 117, 119, 130, 140–141, 143, 151–152, 154–155, 131, 134, 146–7, 157–158, 164 n 7, 166, 194, 159, 192, 203–204; language shift 4, 197, 204; Ibero-Romance53, 104, 124, 130, 34, 46, 54, 70, 74–75, 129, 154, 193, 202; 140, 143; West Flemish 124, 159–160; koiné 7, 47, 47 n 10, 105, 199, 207; also see Chapter 7; Pidgin Portuguese leveling 77, 126–127, 134, 136, 144; Linguistic distinctiveness 15, 90, 100, lingua franca 2, 16, 67, 75, 105, 123 112–113; inequality 20; heterogeneity Language description 5, 13, 20, 27–28 52, 66, 70, 94, 115, 117–118, 125, 127–128, Language development 5, 9, 22, 46, 73, 131, 138 78, 81, 91, 100, 100 n 1, 127, 135, 138–139, Linnaeus 18–19 141, 143, 145–146, 153–155; 159–160, 160 Literacy 12, 18, 22, 79, 82–83, 89, 91, n 4, 168–169, 172, 191, 193, 196, 203–205, 93–94, 118, 133–134, 138, 153–154, 193, 207; grammaticalization 124, 124 199, 202 n 4, 169, 173–177, 181, 185, 193–194, 197 Literature 10, 13, 21, 27 204; lexicalization 204; semantic change 24, 36 Magens, Joachim Melchoir 68, 72–3, Language learning, additional 8, 26, 89–90, 134, 194; Magens’sdialogues 6, 29, 91, 109, 111–112, 205; adult language 90, 155, 166, 168–169, 190–191, 193, 195, learning 8, 20, 85, 99–100, 104–105, 201–102, 204; Hoch Kreol grammar 111–112, 124–125, 128, 131, 134–135, 141, 89, 97, 155, 190, 193, 202, also see 143, 145, 153–155, 193, 204; age 46, 85, Prescriptive Grammar; Magens’s Bible 94, 98, 101–106, 119–120, 132, 203; adult translation 68, 195, 202, 210 n 6 norms 46, 146; aptitude 8, 98, 101, Marginalization 5, 41 109; context 101, 114, 126; early effortful Markedness 126, 139–141, 144, 146, 192 learning 102, 108–109, 112–113, 124–125, Missionary activity, Catholic 17; evangelical 130, 135, 139, 153, 191, 193, 203–204; first texts 9, 92, 98, 157, 161, 167, 169, 202; language learning 8 n 5, 14, 46–47, evangelical variety of Virgin Islands 102, 104, 114, 116 n 1, 118, 125, 146, 154–155, Dutch Creole 3, 74, 85–88, 92–93, 96, 194, 201; interaction 8–9, 112, 114, 116, 134, 157, 165, 196, 202, 206; Lutheran 74, 120, 126, 135, 155; orientation 31–33, 89, 113, 159, 167, 202, 206; Moravian 24, 111–112; over generalization 85, 189; 29, 43, 53, 74–76, 80–85, 89, 133, 154, pronunciation 90, 117, 125, 134–135; 167–168, 202, 206; also see literacy restructuring 108; salience 119, 135; Monolingualism 12, 72, 95, 102, 109, 129; sex 98, 101, 112–113, 119, 203; situational monolingual bias 100 barriers 59, 99–114; strategies 8–9, 111, Morphology 27–28, 93, 101–102, 113, 119, 114, 124, 139, 146, 153–154, 191, 203; 129, 148, 195; also see Plural marking; target-like 100, 108, 110–111, 120, 125; Tense marking transfer 89, 127, 135–136, 141, 146–147, 153; Motivation 110–111, 128, 203; also see 126, 128; chapters 7–9; attainment 85, Intentionality/investment 101–102, 110, 132; use of discourse 125, 189 Mood 124, 173, 176, 193–194 336 subject index

Mrs. Alice Stevens 6, 9, 15, 41, 85, 95–96, society elite 38, 69, 74–75, 77, 83 n 4, 136, 136 n 1, 139–140, 143, 151–152, 157, 91, 138, 155 159–162, 164–165, 168, 177, 179, 182, plural marking, additive plural 157–159, 186–186, 192, 204, 206 160 n 4, 161 164–165; animacy 162–164; Multifunctionality 36, 93 associative plural 157, 164, 164 n 7, 165, Multiple etymology 117, 138, also see 165 n 8, 192; bare noun 159, 162–163, Chapter 7 166–167, 204; case marking 159–161, 165, 168, 195, 204; definiteness, see Negro 24, 24 n 2, 36 Semantic conditioning; pragmatic Neural circuitry 101–102 constraints 157, 159, 161–163, 166; redundancy 166, 168 Oldendorp 24, 36, 39 n 7, 47, 83–85, 109, Pontopiddian 36, 72, 91–93, 95, 98, 202, 196 206 Output 8 n 5, 85, 118, 120, 123, 125–126, Power 2, 5, 13, 16, 33, 39, 47–48, 66, 128–129, 131, 135 78, 100, 116, 120, 122–123, 148; also see Reception Perception 102, 135, 148; illusory vowel Pragmatic difference 34, 87; also see 135, 148 Plural marking, pragmatic constraints Phonological process 139; assimilation Prestige 12, 91, 94–95, 127–129, 144 138–139, 152, 159–160; elimination of Primitivism 13, 17, 20, 26, 35; also see segments 139, 146–152; , metathesis Grammar, barbarous language 146, 151–152; neutralization 139; non- Pronunciation 11, 15, 34, 90, 117, 125, 132 etymological vowels 137, 146, 148–149, Prosperity 7, 57, 67–68, 77, 132–133, 191, 148 n 4, 153–154; reanalysis 146, 148, 201, 205 153, 160; resyllabication 151, 153; Proverbs 16, 29, 36, 94, 154, 157 n 1, 205 affecting voicing 141, 143, 154; vowel copying 136–139, 155, 203; vowel Racism 5, 7, 10, 18–19, 21–24, 26–28, 30, harmony 137, 159 35, 37, 44, 48, 52, 79, 92–95, 98, 115, 200, Phonological segment, affricate 140–142; 207 alveolar 139, 141–142; bilabial 139, Reception 9, 122–123, 131, 189, 203 142; labiovelar 139, 142; consonant Referring expression 159, 162–164, 168 90, 135, 138–139, 142–143, 147, 150–151, 153; Repression 15, 32, 38, 49, 77, 115; also see fricative 140–143, 154–155, 203–204; Chattel slavery, abuse liquid 145, 147, 152; nasal 140, 142, 145, 147, 151–152; stop 139, 142–143, Schuchardt 28, 94 149, 152, 154–155, 204; palatal 139–142; Semantic change 130, 175, 181; also see uvular 148; velar 139–140, 142; Negro vowel 127, 135–139, 144, 146–149, 151, Semantic conditioning 157, 161–164, 153, 160, 204, also see Perception, 167–168, 171 illusory vowel Semantic processing 124–125, 193 Phrasal interrogative 97, 130 Sex 8, 37, 56 n 4, 61, 91, 113; and language Physiology 28, 112, 201 learning, see Language Learning; Pidgin 28, 52; Pidgin Hindustani 31; females 21, 62, 83; males 62, 112; Delaware Pidgin 105; Portuguese ratios 57, 57 n 5, 62, 112–113; sex Pidgin 104–105; imbalance 8, 56, 91, 113 Plantation, agriculture 18, 22–23, 67, Sheridan 14, 90 69, 75, 201; cotton 56, 63–64; Social boundary 45, 91, 111, 155, 199; also provision ground 44, 66 n 12, 119; , see Community, boundary sugar 23, 56, 63, 73; tobacco 56, Social network 7, 41–42, 44, 48–49, 63–64; estate boundary 42, 44–45, 53, 59, 64, 70, 112, 116, 203; Social 49, 56, 59; colony 4, 49, 55, 69, 200; structure 9, 43, 111, 203 deforestation 64 n 10; settlement Social status 32–33, 37, 41–42, 44, 47–48, period 37, 44, 54–55, 59, 68, 101, 54, 74–75, 85, 91, 201; also see 103, 108–109, 118, 129–130, 141, 153, 191; Afro-Caribbean free population; Chattel plantation slavery, see Chattel slavery; slavery; Colonization, indenture subject index 337

Solidarity 31, 42, 49, 111, 199, 203 Variation 9–11, 32, 44–45, 47–48, 68, 85, South America 21, 104 91–92, 96, 117, 124, 127, 129, 136–138, Species 18, 23 140–141, 144, 147, 150, 151–155, 159, 161, Syllable structure 9, 80, 87, 119, 134, 165, 177, 201–203; also see Input 137–138, 144–153, 159, 161, 204; conso- variability nant cluster 139, 147, 149, 151–153, 161; Verb serialization 171–174; asymmetrical coda 87, 91–92, 144–145, 147, 149–152, serial verb constructions 171–174, 154–155, 160–161, 203; nucleus 144; 176–178, 180–182, 185, 187, 187 n 10, onset 144–145, 147, 149–152, 155; 190–191, 197, 200; directional serial verb rhyme 144 constructions 171, 174, 176, 178–180, 190, 192, 197; multiverb serial verb United States 4, 34, 47, 57, 73–75, 81 n 2, constructions 172–173, 177, 188, 191; 111; American Revolution 69, 73; North symmetrical serial verb constructions America 73; Virginia 100, 108, 118 171–174, 176, 178–180, 182, 285–188, United States Virgin Islands 1, 3, 29, 92; 190–191, 197; switch function serial Charlotte Amalie 48, 51, 63 n 9, 70, verb constructions 172, 180, 187; 82, 84, 91, 98, 133, 202; Free Guts 70, valence increasing serial verb 81–82; St. Croix 4, 39, 69, 71–76, 78, constructions 188 82–83; St. John 1, 4, 41, 62, 64, 68–72, 74–76, 103, 184, 201; St. Thomas 1, 3–4, War of Spanish Succession 67; Third 7, 10, 16, 31, 35, 52, 54–58, 60, 62, 64, 64 Dutch War 55; also see United States, n 10, 65, 67–68, 70–77, 81–83, 87, 89, 91, American Revolution 95, 102–105, 107, 115, 117–119, 124, 127, 200, World view 33, 41–42, 115, 200 201, 206; Tap(h)us 63, 63 n 9