How Language and Familiarity Shape the Way We Think and Interact

I’ve been paying attention to how my mind works, and something keeps standing out: the way I switch language depending on who I'm speaking to and how close I feel to them. It’s not something I consciously learned; it’s something that simply happens, almost like my brain has emotional shortcuts rooted in language.

For example, when I want to banter with someone I’m familiar with, my mind immediately reaches for Yoruba. It comes out effortlessly. Saying “lemme joor” flows more naturally from me than “lemme biko” ever will, even though “biko” is also part of my linguistic identity. I grew up in Lagos, my parents spoke pidgin to communicate with my siblings and me, and when you step outside, the whole neighborhood is swimming in Yoruba conversations. English was for school and formality, but Yoruba and pidgin were the textures of everyday life.

It wasn’t until I left home for university that Igbo began to sit more confidently on my tongue. Being surrounded by fellow Igbo students, hearing the language every day, and slowly absorbing expressions and intonations, my accent started shifting. I began sounding more like “my people.” The Igbo inside me woke up from hibernation.

But here’s the interesting part: I’ve noticed that depending on my level of familiarity with someone, my brain chooses its default language in the moment. When I meet you for the first time, my initial thoughts often process in Igbo. If our interaction is formal, my brain remains in that mode, structured, intentional, and almost cautious. But the moment we become comfortable with each other, something changes. My mental “operating system” switches. Suddenly, the Yoruba part of me starts leading our conversations. I begin to joke more. I start using lighter, warmer expressions that come from childhood memories, neighborhood rhythms, and all the small languages of comfort I grew up soaking in.

It’s fascinating to observe this shift. I’ve caught myself being very professional around some people for months, maintaining a certain tone. But the moment a deeper familiarity develops, maybe after shared jokes, consistent conversations, or a new sense of safety, I notice myself throwing in “simple but funny jabs.” And those jabs almost always come in Yoruba. That’s when I know: Ah. I’ve finally relaxed with this person. My brain has allowed them into the inner circle where Yoruba lives. 

I've caught myself stay very professional with some people and overtime when I become relaxed and try to figure out, when I  started feeling chill enough to let my guard down, I've seen a common pattern, the periods when I throw simple but funny jabs at the person, are most often in Yoruba. When I've used Biko, it usually carry a more serious tone, but when I say joor, it's more playful and open to banting. I'm not exactly sure why this is a thing, but it's a thread I'm noticing and paying attention to.. maybe, it's because it's the language of my childhood.. the cradle where I most felt safe without the world's interference : when I say “biko,” it often carries a serious undertone. It’s not playful; it’s direct. But “joor” is laced with softness and mischief. It’s teasing, tender, and unserious. It opens the door to laughter and banter. So maybe this is why my brain uses them differently. “Biko” belongs to the side of me that is measured and cautious. “Joor” belongs to the part of me that feels free.

I’m still trying to understand why this happens, but I’m certain it’s connected to the emotional history tied to each language. Yoruba is the language of my childhood, the one wrapped in the sound of neighbors gossiping outside, mothers scolding kids, friends teasing one another at the gate, and the entire environment that raised me. It carries memories, safety, familiarity, and a sense of belonging. Pidgin adds humor and rawness. English brings structure. Igbo adds identity and grounding. But Yoruba? Yoruba is where my guard goes to rest.

So perhaps language isn’t just communication, it’s emotional geography. It maps out where we feel safe, where we feel tense, where we feel playful, and where we feel fully ourselves. Our tongues expose our comfort zones, our fears, and the relationships where we can finally take a deep breath and stop performing.

Maybe the real story isn’t just about language. Maybe it’s about the places inside us where love, childhood, identity, and memory overlap. And maybe that’s why when I finally feel at home with you, my brain switches to Yoruba, because that’s the first home I ever knew.

Adaeze C Nwankwo

THE DARK COULDN'T PROTECT ME

She said to me, I did all I was taught to do.

Covered myself, face, chest, hands, tights and boobs, I had layers and layers of cover,  Yet the night didn’t save me.

She said to me, I had the locks, the padlocks, the bolts, the knobs and keys, I had all the chains and metals, ringed through for defense, I promise this caution wasn’t in my head, I did all I was suppose to do, but the dark still wouldn’t save me.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t polite enough, it wasn’t that I didn’t say No, please stop a thousand time, it wasn’t that my shape and form were flaunted and bared, it wasn’t that I didn’t beg him to stop. But you see, the night just wouldn’t protect me.

It’s the deliverer who was suppose to listen to my confession, save me from my fears, he was suppose to help me learn to heal, it was the pulpit man, who was to hear me, and teach me not to drown in my fears, it was the same temple hustler that made the night long. You know, the night just wouldn’t save

He tore my layers of protection, discarded my defenses and chains, he dug deep into me, even as I beg him not to take away my only hope of being. I pleaded that he let me go for the sake of his idol, It was the sermon sharer who invited the devil to shatter my walls, made me vociferous and and labeled me angry.  

I was angry yesterday,because a benighted niggard unlocked my bolts and made away with the key, I was angry yesterday because this temple of mine has become a common  place of desecration for debauchers.

But today, I feel safe, safe in the hands of my tribes speaking their truth, I wear happiness, as I join the legion of women louding my voice. Today my safety is secured in the numbers of warriors fighting my ravagers, today I take back my power, my afflatus comes form the babel of tongues of these strong amazons.  Today, my voice wins me victory.

Today, the night dare not to betray me.

BURIED MY DEMON

I finally had the courage to lay my demon to sleep 

I buried it among ruins, laid it a wreath with my shattered soul to it

I sang it a dirge, long written, without a melody

I gave it a farewell, meant for strangers, because I just never understood this company that came uninvited.

I wrote on its tombstone the only memory it is won’t to have.

“Here lies pains that took without asking, leaving its victims lost in unechoed space”

Today I spread the dust to this demon, sent it back to the abyss where it came from.

This ash, I blow to the winds of history.

I looked the epitaph in the eye, daring it tell a lie if it can.

I exchange its thorns for sunny flowers, a rose to remind it of  taste of its poison

I dance at the sound of wailings, glad that mourners could let my being gyrate again.

I wiggle and jiggle to the reverberate from the grave diggers, as they shovel more sand on the casket.

I watch with excitement, as your remains disappear from sight.

Today, I buried my demon.

MIND WAR

My rage is in my silence

My anger is in my calm

I am so vexed, I've become voiceless,

Numb, calm and unable to spit the fire in me

I'm furious at the many folly foiled to make me feeble

I refuse to war with my mind

Even when you continually pillage my body

Rummage my emotions and toil with my feelings.

I refuse to let you take up space in the very center of me,

 where I lord my spirit and command my soul

For each time you gorge my corpse of its purity, I take back control of my maturity

For every trash spoken to chop my cadaver of its essence, rid my flesh of its esteem, I choose to raise my soul to the untouchable realm

You my darling can't touch me, not with coal words, with the fury of hell burning and spitting pain and shame

Not even with your icy stare like a frozen curse, forgotten without spell

I live in my mind, this body; you try to conquer, was built with love and passion, and consumed when the gods woke gay.

This flesh you detest with disdain, was birthed with the finest of memory, sweetest of care and strongest affection the world will I ever bare.

My body lives in this free mind only love has a compass to

BROKEN HEARTS

I know where broken hearts go
I know where the battered live
I know where the forgotten reside
Come see, where shattered spirits live
I know where the living corpse abode.

They live in the memories that once were, and could have been.
They stay in places where happiness hurts and pleasures, pains.
They go to the land of the desolates,
Peering into the past,
Longing to be saved once more,
Hoping that the past could rebirth the present,
Wishing that the future has no claws.

I know where the broken meet.
I know where the fallible rendezvous.
I know where the scorned live.
I know where misery resides.

They meet in the fear of strangers’ dates,
Wanting a hello, not to bid goodbye.
They reside in the doubt of friends turned lovers.
Worried that a line crossed means, strength lost.
It dwells in the laughter of scorned hearts,
In “drink only” buddies, that would never make a move
I see it in the wants, that never  will.
You will find it, in the love, never expressed.
You will read it, in the expressions not told

I know where broken hearts go.
They go to prisons where fears and torture are royal.

NO ONE

No eyes, no dreams, no goals

No me, no us, no them

Sleeping dreamless

Wake up vision-less

Find a quality

Yet no name

The title of the day

Not face of tomorrow

Their say against mine

Your name hostile fame

The scream they hush

For identity not known

What is the title?

Why is he subtle?

Who do me rattle?

When i still grapple

Dog still nameless

Yet not blameless

While still faceless

Rend them speechless 

Only birds fly, not scattered feather

THE DARK SHIELDS MY SHAME

I don't feel the shame at nights, Since the dark pain, inflicted my damped soul,

Through his fingers trailing my thighs

Poking its way through the murky mess

Not from bleeding, but from heaviness

My heart can't hold, or shake off like the easy loss

of a stained white dress.

I don't recall it at all at day,

Since my voice, seem loss and frail

From the silent cry, screeched from fear,

 ladenned with threat, emboldened by death.

I died daily at his altar, where his cassock condemn my spirit to perpetual penance,

It's not the pulpit that accuses me of consent

The book didn't remember to judge me guilty.

It's his countenance that spurns my flesh to rile

With contempt for self, his sacred lips committed me to damnation

His lifted hands in righteous places, point me to my unholy sepulcher 

So, I live, yet dead to him, who feeds of my unholy temple to pleasure his anointed vessel every night in ungodly ways.

I learn to silent the demons by light, by wearing my solemn devotion,

With my nunnery garment, bidding my preachers will,

Waning my soulful dirge to mourn the memory, I choose to bury,

With each dawn, even as the ritual at dusk calls me early.

 When the sun rises, my shame fades.

When the moon walks, my will, my fear tames.

Again, tonight, shame died.

DO YOU REMEMBER?

Do You Sometimes pause to remember?

Does your heart think of me?

Does your heartbeat skip a beat?

Does it shiver and tremble at the memory of me?

Do you sometimes fall, pause and breathe just at the thought of me?

Does my memory cause your pulse to cease?

Your breath to freeze,

And your fears increase?

Do I make you wish yesterday never was,

Today always fun,

And tomorrow never come?

Do you remember me?

Does my name invoke you pain?

Blind with rage and make you tame?

Do I ever make you pale,

In spite of love you never gave?

Does my smile kiss you frail?

Break you in pieces and leave you plain?

Does my name speak of fame,

You abhor and crave and love to claim?

But couldn’t earn and so you hate,

Living a looser who breathes to blame.

Do I ever bring you memories of days,

Dawning in break, so lost in forgotten in lane?

Do you remember my hopeless hope

Of million pleas, wishing you were mine?

Dreaming you to turn to me, return my love

To make my night bright and fine, so much, with my might?

Praying, You want me then, to be your cross

Without a doubt, so long I was wrong?

Do you remember, my tears of loss

And walk of shame, for your love I war

So hard, that it was my curse?

Does your heart wish your faith was true and fair

For a love I give, in spite of you, or care from you

For many nights, so cold I was alone?

Do you remember?

There's a place

There’s a dark casting in my heart that leaves me lost

Each time I watch the last of your shadow fall, take a walk from me

It’s like you’ve been gone, but you remained to taunt me further

Reminding me that, you’re here, yet there.

There, that place I could never reach you, that far space where my thought travel

To visit you, hoping that you would recognize this shape you once knew

But, I could never reach you there.

There’s a dim light that dances in my eyes, when I see you show up

When the distance between us, isn’t measured by the last dreams

And the future wish, but, by the now acts, winning ovation from the pushers

You here, bringing a flicker of hope, with the almost, nearly and closely brush

From your presence, gifted me in your smile.

There’s a song in my mouth, I’m still learning to tune

From melodies, conjure through your heart beat, thumped from the rhythm only you make,

One clap here, a sound there, mixed from your goings and returns that leaves me lost for lyrics

To make the gyration last. Yet, when this dirge surfaces, you turn it into a loud cymbal

Tuned for you and I only, to dance and waltz, less I trip on this floor.

There’s a want, only you can meet, as much as I yearn to fill this void,

Left sunken from your exit, a hole left desolate, bereft of your touch, smell, smile or kiss.

And my daily dream has been, that I may know your breath again, learn the scent of you afresh

To pervade this depth lost and shrunk in endless want, yearning for you to see me.

Through the times, we’ve both shared, hoping the longing is mutual in our hearts.

There’s a place and time only you and I can live, only us can feel, only our hearts can tell.

LIFE

Trotted this beautiful plane

Like a damsel adorned in grace and petal of love

With a simmering sweetness on my face,

lighting up my world.

I've strutted and walked the pearly city of life,

making perfect silhouettes my body clad in life's rich satin

You see, this skin has felt velvety silk of the purest of Shea,

 buttered with the finest of oil, only the sun can outshine.

My eyes have sighted, beauty, hands luxury

and heart witnessed the deepest of kindness thereof.

But what I've never understood was curse,

 brought from walking alone not from lack of crowd,

 but from want of truth among the seekers of my time.

I must tell you, numbers don't make a meaning

when wind wades you through the waves of life's despair,

or forlorn faces nodding their shame of you.

You'll find they won't always matter,

 the ones chanting hurray will spurn in horror at once

 when coppers go crook, the honest keep hot

Life is fine and bright and could be dark and dim

when it turns to shadow from sparkling laughter

BURIED UNBURIED

 Death to the voice
 Kill the loud
 Hush the babel
 Less they gain power of their will


 They will against our will
 They take off our ability to dare
 Not even a dream is without transgression
 Our thoughts are met with avarice

 Shush them now, they say
 Stifle their power
 Silence their experience
 Less they snowball their might
 Our voices become yearning whispers

 We are not mere mortals
 A death to our voices is a birth to a million vent
 Our grave shall be the manure giving life to the seed
 That declare our will to win
 For each silence you make, a million voices you create

 We are the seed buried, yet alive
 The voices silenced, yet screaming loud
 We are the tomb, the foundation for all the resurrection you see.
 We are the unburied buried

 We rise for each death you kill

They will against our will
They take off our ability to dare
Not even a dream is without transgression
Our thoughts are met with avarice

Shush them now, they say
Stifle their power
Silence their experience
Less they snowball their might
Our voices become yearning whispers

But we are not mere mortals
A death to our voices is a birth to a million vent
Our grave shall be the manure giving life to the seed

that declare our will to win
For each silence you make, a million voices you create

We are the seed buried, yet alive
The voices silenced, yet screaming loud
We are the tomb, the foundation for all the resurrection you see.

We are the unburied buried

We rise for each death you kill

THUNDER

He calls me thunder.

That my roar sends panic to the mighty

When I strike, there is quake among the living

That my lighting causes tremble among the gods

That people shiver at the thought of my name.

He called me thunder

But I never struck twice

My flash never burnt the ones I love

It rather warms them like an ember

Soothing in the early morning harmattan.

He sails my storm easily

Yet he fears my wrath obviously

It could be the echo of my blast

That cause giants tumbling and stuttering

Signaling to him, he’s mere mortal where I growl

Maybe, it’s the fiery fire that sets their feet ablaze.

He insists my voice consumes the weak

Swallows the rustling of the impotent

My words don’t spit threat

It dares the monsters

It doesn’t appease tyrant, it torments their desperation

Bashing their might with brash bolt and brawn

Causing their heart to leap in fear

Making their strength fade in fright

But in my brashness

He says my roar is like a music to his ears

My rumble, peaceful lullaby to his heart

Yet, like a tornado I crushed his will to want another one

My lighting his delight has become

My riotous pace his pleasure

My turbulent noise his Eldorado

He calls me thunder and I howl in love

13

13 weren't the no of times my heart has fallen
13 is beyond the no of days we held on to us
13 is the date in the month, when a visitor is termed special
13 was the time when this visitor no longer counts
13, not the layers of mask concealing my pains
13, not the number of time, my heart panted for yours
having hours slow into seconds as I stayed crying,
as the loneliness became my unworthy companion.
It's the name of the period when
memory was a dark veil, rotten in my nailed shame
covering my pain, shielding my hurt.
Forgotten is the label of an era, riled up mentally
13 a moment begging for amnesia.

Emptiness fills me with so much despair
Making hollow this mighty heart fanfare
Swelling the pit of my pain with fear gripped so tight
Ecstatic, horror, crushed soul won't fight
Fallen giant, burnt spirit, lay in fear 
The gap left by unknown nightmare
Shaken voices not recognized despite
my wish and promises of dear.
Energy ebbing away from my broken hardware
Smile not taken in assured measure but fright
It's fast and slow, the push, my valour is loosing her air.

The anxiety knotting the valve of my heart.
This palpitation, beating, knocking constricting my breath.

Dear 13, dulling my mind, please mend my broken spirit,
Embalmed in shame, dying silently,
Lost, in this phase of a moment, exiled into pain.
Shattered in doubt, covered in fear, shoved in a state of emotional chaos
Shrouded in secret, Wallowing, burning, dread my might has lost.
They say time heals, I wish it doesn't exist.
They say time, makes all things alright
I prayed it warped me in time machine.
Where my past was more pleasant
I want the yesterday before 13th
I hope my day can get a pre-13th
Where the door stayed ajar, and love never left.
13 a date that left me in a daze

Dead Silent

It's dead silent here
I listened for the humming of the birds,
It was no where.
I longed for the chirping of the cricket, but they were long gone.
I could sing my own song,
But there would be no melody.
Write my own dirge,
But no one would cry.

The dead, are awake in a land others dread,
Yet, we wish they can tell us how to feel better here
It's the time that doesn't exist we seek.
Maybe, it's the tomorrow we don't know we want.
We could beg for the yonder to come, but we will never know we live in it.

My pain says, I'm still here.
Their stares tell me, I'm lonely still.
Not for another to cheer my mood,
Not for a voice to echo my wish.
But, from distance their eyes tell,
From pain, their silence thunder.

I could radio my heart beat.
I could sing me a lasting lullaby,
But, I know my dreams have become calmer than my waking.
So, I'm learning to live my misery, teaching me to accompany me.

If my quiet echoes noise
if my voice whisper fear
and my calm screams worry
don't fix this one, let it my teacher be
I'm embracing the pain for gain
accepting the shame as well.
the stops, loss and horror 
Is all I bear to win.

Our Tomorrow

You might wake up one  day and realize  the world  has actually  moved on.  oh well,  the world,  it keeps  moving,  it evolves, it changes and it refuses  to be stagnant.  You on the other hand,  you are stuck,  you refused  to evolve,  you feel overwhelmed  by the fast pace of everything and everyone  around  you.  At first,  you  tried to  convince yourself that  you don't  care,  you constantly remind yourself  of how happy you  are.  So,  you  refused to appraise the situation,  you couldn't  understand  the rush so you didn't  bother to try.

Guess what!  the world moved on anyways. It didn't  care whether  you were in it or not,  it just evolved without  your  permission.  Now,  you  ask why you?  why did everyone move on?  why  don't they care?  Oh well,  they care enough  to let you see them moving on.  They love you so much to let you hear people sing their praises and chant their victory. it was you who wouldn't listen nor take them serious. you were the one without care for tomorrow.

I know you said you were taking life easy. I know you mentioned those things are vain. but, You and I know the problems won't take care of itself. We both know, unless we move a muscle, dear, no one will break a sweat for us. So, while we bother less about tomorrow, worry no more about our challenges. We must be sure we have today care enough to last us for tomorrow. What we do not give attention to, will not get done.

We are first responsible to ourselves, before others. While we brag about our less care for tomorrow. Our bragging right should assure us enough for an extra day. 

NO WORDS

It's in the silence
Right there in the sound of our thoughts
It's in the quiet
Look in the air we exhale
Not because we no longer exist
Not even the angst could save us
It's is in the whom we have made of ourselves
The very being we have become

Been separate didn't ease our yearnings
A void the pegs couldn't square
Many a hole time couldn't fill
A vacuum unending in our search
The one piece matching the puzzle
The one cure for my sickness

Unfinished sentences were all I could ever make
I was an unquoted word
because the dot was missing
I remained an unlived dream, because you were my sleep
My one sure step to lala land
You are my vision
My one sure hope to winning

It's in our eyes
The story untold of fears and wishes
It's in our heart, the chapter written from the blood pound of our veins
You will find it in our voices
From the many tales our kisses tell
It's in who we are
From the many memories only us can reawaken

It's in our bond
the very chord binding our soul
You will find it in our ties
Woven in our spirit
Knitted with our blood
Knotted by love
Shaped into us


It's in the distance calling for us
Among the puzzle lost in our hearts
You will find it in the story untold from our character
It's right here in the end
We plotted from the beginning