In a world increasingly dominated by a handful of major languages, a silent crisis unfolds in the vast, sandy savannas of the southern Kalahari. Here, nestled on land bordering Namibia, Botswana, and South Africa, lies the heartland of the Khomani people, a branch of the San – some of Southern Africa’s earliest known hunter-gatherers. And with them, on the precipice of oblivion, is N|uu, a click language so rare, it boasts only one remaining fluent speaker.
N|uu is a living relic, deeply rooted in the very emergence of humankind. Its intricate sound system features five primary click sounds, including the extraordinarily rare "bilabial plosive," or "kiss click," found in only a handful of closely related languages. This unique phonetic gem is a linguistic treasure, making its potential disappearance an even more poignant loss for humanity's shared heritage.
The journey of N|uu to this critical juncture is a painful narrative of colonial impact. Traditionally an unwritten language, its origins and evolution are challenging to trace, but linguists and historians point to the arrival of the British in the 19th century as the beginning of its demise. As Dr. Kerry Jones, a linguist dedicated to saving endangered Southern African languages, explains, the imposition of political boundaries and the requirement of identification and passports forcibly separated the Khomani tribes. "People used to move through that whole region between South Africa, Namibia, and Botswana all the time. Then all of a sudden, these people came and started putting up fences... This was the beginning of the demise in a way because it’s started to separate people. Their families were split up."
Beyond physical separation, the British Empire actively sought to eradicate native languages, replacing them with English and Afrikaans. The historical accounts are grim, with local San people sharing stories of ancestors who were belittled, beaten, and even killed simply for speaking N|uu. Natives were systematically stripped of their ethnic and cultural identity, arbitrarily categorized by their British overlords.
Decades later, with the end of colonial rule and apartheid, a glimmer of hope emerged. In the mid-1990s, Dr. Nigel Crawhall discovered approximately 25 surviving N|uu speakers. Most were elderly, weary of hiding their true identities. As Dr. Crawhall recounts, "We had these elderly people who were coming forward saying, ‘look, I’m gonna die soon anyway, so it’s okay. I’m gonna let you know: I’m not actually Coloured, I’m San. And I can prove it because I can still speak the language.’ The language became key in proving their identity.”
Tragically, many of those original speakers passed away without successfully passing on their fluency. The second-to-last fluent speaker left this world in December 2021, leaving us with just one: Ouma Katrina Esau.
Ouma Katrina, a beacon of resilience, has dedicated the last few years of her life to a monumental task: working with Dr. Jones to create a digital N|uu dictionary. Collaborating with her granddaughter, Claudia Snyman—who, though not fluent, speaks N|uu as an additional language and is literate—they’ve even created a children’s book in N|uu, titled Qhoi n|a Tijho (Tortoise and Ostrich). This intergenerational partnership is crucial, leveraging Claudia's literacy to preserve Ouma Katrina's precious oral knowledge.
In May 2024, a new chapter opened as Ouma Katrina began teaching the language to local schoolchildren. The goal isn't necessarily to create new fluent, monolingual N|uu speakers, but to plant seeds for the future. As Dr. Jones told IFLS, "Children are learning to greet, they are learning to sing songs, they are learning names for animals and plants... they will be able to greet, they will be able to sing songs, they will be able to understand a basic children’s story.”
The statistics are sobering: around nine languages perish every year, victims of globalization and cultural homogenization. Each loss is profound, often feeling inevitable against the relentless march of the modern world. Yet, linguists like Dr. Jones firmly believe in the value of fighting to keep these linguistic codes alive. "Your experience with one code or another code is the structure that creates your reality. That is fascinating," he states. For him, the loss of a language is akin to the loss of a species – an irreplaceable component of our planet’s intricate network, vital for understanding the full spectrum of human reality and history.
