Guernésiais for Grockles

Soon, it would be time to pack my bags. I’d made a checklist of everything I could possibly need; dictaphone, notebooks, camera. A map of the island was open on my bedroom floor, potential walking routes and places of interest marked with sticky notes and sharpie. A pile of history and guidebooks sat on my desk and on the laptop, I nervously refreshed the news pages. In just a few weeks, I would be spending a week in Guernsey.

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My aim was simple; to get to know the Guernsey we don’t see in holiday brochures or on neatly packaged day trips. Studying for a master’s degree in travel and nature writing, I had been tasked with planning my own independent trip. As soon as my tutors told me about this self-organised trip, I set my sights on Guernsey. I could stay with family that live on the island, and explore the history and culture I had overlooked on so many of my previous visits. Living in Poole, UK, the island was only a short ferry trip away, and almost immediately I booked the journey. The results of my week in Guernsey would form writing that I would offer to publications and contribute to my degree coursework. Then came Covid-19.

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During the weeks leading up to the trip, the news chipped away slowly at any hope I had of visiting Guernsey, as countries one by one closed their borders and restricted travel. Naively, I thought that the UK and Channel Islands would be immune. Two weeks before my trip, I was told that the ferry would only be carrying those whose travel was essential. It was time to call it quits. The months of planning my trip fell away. No trip to La Société Guernesiaise to speak about their work on marine conservation. No walking in Renoir’s footsteps as he painted the ‘Guernsey Fifteen’. The Easter Monday pilgrimage to Lihou was scratched out, as was my stay at an eco-friendly campsite. The overnight trip to Sark was abandoned, so too the day trip to Herm. My swims on Guernsey’s varied coastline were forgotten about, and my lesson in Guernésiais, the very first thing I had planned, scrapped.

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I had wanted to try learning Guernésiais the moment I had heard about it. In my ignorance, I did not know that Guernsey had its own language, and a quick search through the internet told me that I wasn’t alone. While I thought Guernésiais was rooted in French, I discovered that it was closer to Norman. I stumbled upon the writers George Métivier and Denys Corbet, and even found that Victor Hugo had borrowed some of the lingo. However, with the presence of Covid-19, that was the extent of my education, and I reluctantly emailed my tutor to cancel the lesson.

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The day I was due to sail to Guernsey came and went, and as the days went by, I imagined all the things I would have been doing there instead of lockdown in the UK. Then, I received an email from my Guernésiais tutor offering an online lesson. I leapt at the chance and my lesson was booked for the next day. If lockdown has taught me anything, it is the power of the internet and social media, no matter how much we bemoan it.

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I was nervous before the lesson. Having studied German at school and still expecting Guernésiais to be near identical to French, I worried that I would be the worst beginner my tutor had ever taught. When they asked me how much I knew I told them that I didn’t even know how to say ‘Guernésiais’ (JER-NAY-ZEE-YAY). They soon put me at ease, however, and we began. After covering the basics of numbers, greetings and the weather, my tutor asked me if I had any questions. I wondered if they might tell me how they came to speak the language, and about the history of Guernésiais. 

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The first language of my tutor’s grandparents was Guernésiais. As a child, they felt an affinity for the language, but was discouraged by their grandparents who told them to “learn the good French”. When I asked why there was such discouragement towards learning Guernésiais, they told me that it was looked down upon, due to being the language of rural communities. As English became the language of religion, administration and education Guernésiais declined. The last Guernsey census found that 1300 reported to speak Guernésiais. A recent project aimed at photographing Guernsey’s Guernésiais speakers found only 100 people. Of these 100, my tutor told me, they believed around 40 could easily converse in the language. There is hope however, as interest in the language seems to be piquing, with my tutor teaching curious newcomers such as myself, and even a regular group for beginners.

 

I’m very grateful to have had my lesson in Guernésiais. Not only did the education change my perception of the language, but also gave me insight into the history of the island. A history that is often overlooked. With the future of travel unknown, it is nice to know that we can still learn about, and experience, other cultures from the comforts of home. A la perchoïne, Guernsey!