A shibboleth is the distinguishing feature of a particular group of people. The term comes from the Old Testament:
And the Gileadites captured the fords of the Jordan against the Ephraimites. And when any of the fugitives of Ephraim said, “Let me go over,” the men of Gilead said to him, “Are you an Ephraimite?” When he said, “No,” they said to him, “Then say Shibboleth,” and he said, “Sibboleth,” for he could not pronounce it right. Then they seized him and slaughtered him at the fords of the Jordan. At that time 42,000 of the Ephraimites fell. Judges 12: 5-6
Brutal, man. So the word 'shibboleth,' which refers to the stalk of a plant in the dialect of the Gileadites, contained the 'sh' sound, but the Hebrew dialect of the Ephraimites did not have that sound. They would give away their accent by pronouncing the word incorrectly and thus would reveal themselves to be Ephraimites.
When you speak a language natively you have an incredible ability to pick up on tiny variations in speech that distinguish nonnative speakers or speakers of separate dialects. But it is extremely difficult to pick up on these differences in a language that you are learning. For example, few of my students and teachers are able to distinguish American and British English unless they hear specific words that they know are pronounced differently, like 'schedule.' In the same way, I am told that it is very easy for Nepali speakers to recognize native speakers of Tamang and Newari by their accents, but when I am speaking to Nepalis in Chapagaon I am completely unable to pick up on these variations. I am interested in the multilingual classroom dynamic, but because students tend to speak Nepali in the classroom (and, if I'm having a good day, English), it is difficult to tell if an individual is a native speaker of Nepali, Tamang, or Newari. So I asked the teachers to give me shibboleths for Tamang and Newari speakers (with much better intentions than the Gileadites had for the Ephraimites).
For Newari, I was told, speakers often mix up dental and retroflex 't.' These are the two sounds designated by the separate Devanagari characters त and ट, and distinguish a 't' with the tongue placed on the teeth with the 't' in which the tongue is curled back. Both are slightly different than the English sound.
Tamang speakers, I was told, say hunchhaa instead of hunchha (hunchha is sort of like the English 'okay'). In Romanized Nepali, people usually spell the vowel sound अ as 'a' and आ as 'aa.' The difference is crucial in distinguishing between the Nepali verb marnu 'to die' and the verb maarnu 'to kill.' In fact, I heard a rumor of a court case in Nepal in which a nonnative speaker of Nepali on the stand caused someone to go to jail because he accidentally referred to the victim as the maareko man (the killed man) instead of the mareko man (the dead man). Don't know if that's true, but Tamang apparently also lacks the distinction.
Also I was told that Tamang speakers will accidentally say mero baa garchha instead of mero baa garnuhunchha for 'my father will do (this).' In other words, they will forget to use the respectful verb form when referring to their elders. Like Spanish and German, Nepali has both informal and formal you (actually several levels of formality, as I mentioned here). But unlike Spanish and German, Nepali also has informal and formal he/she. So you must use the respectful form not only when talking to your father, but also when talking about your father. Tamang apparently lacks the distinction, so Tamang speakers will forget to use the respectful form when speaking Nepali.
Interestingly, all three of these distinctions are problematic for English speakers too. I often use the wrong vowel, mix up the two t sounds, or forget to use the respectful form when talking about my parents because English also lacks these sounds and grammatical forms. But nobody ever mistakes me for a native Newari or Tamang speaker because there are many other aspects of my accent that give me away as a foreigner (also people tend to pick up on that by looking at my face). I'm just covered in shibboleths.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
Christmas Eve in Kathmandu Valley
Happy Holidays everybody!
In 2008 I went to a Catholic church service and I was struck by the way that Christianity has adapted to Nepal - they gave tikka and flowers as an alternative to Communion. At my school about 10 of the 350 students are Christians, and so I wanted to see a Christian service in Nepal. I had some difficulty finding a service on Christmas Eve because the practice seems to be to have a church service on Christmas day (also Saturdays are the church-going days in Nepal, the only day of the week that is off at my school). On Christmas Eve there was also a strike in the Valley because the student leader of a Maoist organization had been stabbed by a rival and the transportation was shut down in protest. I enlisted my host brother to drive me around roadblocks on his motorcycle, and I finally ended up at the impressive Church of the Assumption in Patan:
About a fourth of the guests were foreigners and the Mass was conducted in Nepali and English (they chose some aspects of the service to speak in Nepali and others to speak in English). We sat on the floor in rows and there were plates of traditional Nepali coiled bread and fruits offered to the Baby Jesus in front of the pulpit, but other than that the service was pretty familiar.
As if to remind me that I was still in Nepal, there was also a blackout in the middle of a text reading. The lights and electricity were off for about five minutes, and some altar boys had to come up to the pulpit with candles so that the priest could see the bible. The music was praise music, so many of the lyrics were familiar. The verses were written alternating in English and Nepali, which was fun for me.
After the service we went to the "Red Dingo," a restaurant specializing in high-end Australian cuisine (yep). I had a chicken meat pie with mashed potatoes. There were also carolers!
In 2008 I went to a Catholic church service and I was struck by the way that Christianity has adapted to Nepal - they gave tikka and flowers as an alternative to Communion. At my school about 10 of the 350 students are Christians, and so I wanted to see a Christian service in Nepal. I had some difficulty finding a service on Christmas Eve because the practice seems to be to have a church service on Christmas day (also Saturdays are the church-going days in Nepal, the only day of the week that is off at my school). On Christmas Eve there was also a strike in the Valley because the student leader of a Maoist organization had been stabbed by a rival and the transportation was shut down in protest. I enlisted my host brother to drive me around roadblocks on his motorcycle, and I finally ended up at the impressive Church of the Assumption in Patan:
About a fourth of the guests were foreigners and the Mass was conducted in Nepali and English (they chose some aspects of the service to speak in Nepali and others to speak in English). We sat on the floor in rows and there were plates of traditional Nepali coiled bread and fruits offered to the Baby Jesus in front of the pulpit, but other than that the service was pretty familiar.
Friday, December 24, 2010
News from Nepal: Tent Revival and Textbook Embezzlement
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| Celebrations during the last day. I am standing on a pick-up truck filled with musicians playing music and followed by several people on motorcycles. We visited the home of the holy man. |
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| The ceremony raised money for a school and a temple through donations. This man, a jovial ex-soldier, offered up his land worth rupees 14 lakh (about $20,000) |
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| School Fieldtrip to the Buddhist Monastery Namo Buddha |
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| We sacrificed a goat for the school picnic. Action snapshot. [Click to embiggify, but mildly graphic] |
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| Sunset silhouette of Namo Buddha |
Here's some news:
The former Crown Prince is in trouble for allegedly brandishing his gun again, firing in the air and making tiger-related threats against the son of a deputy minister. There were protests and traffic blocks against his imprisonment all over Kathmandu last week. I find it difficult to understand where the loyalty comes from, but then again he wasn't going to be my king.
Nepal ex-Prince Paras Shah Arrested Over Gun Row
This week has been a testing week at all of our schools. So it was interesting to see a story about textbook embezzlement on the cover of the Himalayan Times. The article seems to blame teachers and headmasters for the irregularities. My headmaster says that some schools might engage in this sort of scam but of course no one really talks about it.
Schools, Teachers, Not Playing by the Book
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Virtual Tour of My House
I uploaded a virtual tour of the house where I am staying in Boharatar. This has been an idea of mine for a long time, because I really enjoy living in a traditional Nepali home and I wanted to show people what it's like. My family members tell me that they want to live in a modern house, which means concrete and steel instead of brick and mud. I am told that the old houses keep warm in the winter and cold in the summer, but the new houses are always cold. It is true that they are remarkably warm considering that there is no heating other than the fireplace downstairs. But the new houses are more desirable, especially for the mother of this household, because they do not have mud floors and are much, much easier to clean.
Speaking of family members, there are also some interviews with members of my adopted family here. Forgive my translation errors in the subtitles. Also, I'm pretty sure that water is drawn from a tank and not a well, as the water is piped in by the city, and the two wash areas are not disconnected from the house so much as they are separated by a barn.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
How Old Are You?
When I lead teams and conducted interviews for the 2010 US Census, I thought it was interesting that these were separate questions on the form: "How old will you be on April 1, 2010?" and "On what date were you born?" The information in the second question makes the first question unnecessary. But when I interviewed Somalis at an organization that provided housing for refugees, I noticed that the math consistently didn't add up: they always claimed to be one year older than the age obtained by counting from their birthdate.
Eventually I figured out the reason for that. In Somalia, the age of a newborn child at birth is one. After 12 months they turn two, and so on. In America we consider a baby zero years old until their first birthday (we say they are 2 months old, 9 months old, etc.).
That system seems more logical to us, because in English the question "How old are you?" actually means "How many years of life have you completed?" So I turned 24 on December 10th, which actually means that I have completed my 24th year of life and am now precisely 24 years and 3 days old at the time of writing this.
But in Somalia "How old are you?" means "Which year of life are you currently in?" In your first year of life you are one, in your second year you are two, in your twenty-fifth year of life you are twenty-five, etc. This is the difference between inclusive and exclusive counting, and I used to find it very confusing. We count certain things 1, 2, 3... and for certain other things we count 0, 1, 2...
Any of you who know anything about computer programming and had to learn that the first element of a string is not str[1] but rather str[0] know what I'm talking about, but it comes up elsewhere. When I was in middle school nobody could adequately explain to me why we would say that historical events that happened in the 1900s were said to happen in the 20th century, or why a sportscaster would refer to a play at 85:47 as having occurred in the 86th minute of the game. We tend to count most things inclusively (the Somali way, starting from one), but things can get complicated when there is a "rollover," when 99 years becomes century 1, when 59 seconds becomes minute 1, or when 11 months becomes year 1. In English we count the higher expression exclusively, starting from 0.
So in Nepal I have been told that they also count age from 1, which would mean that on December 10th I turned 25. But when I try to explain why I'm 24 in the USA and 25 in Nepal, I'm often met with blank stares.
This is because there are actually two different general ways to express your age in Nepali:
Ma paachhis barshako umer chhu.
I twenty-five years-gen. age am.
(I am twenty-five years old.)
Ma chaúbis barshako umer bhaé/bhaisaké.
I twenty-four years-gen. age became/become-completed.
(I have completed twenty-four years.)
I believe the second expression is actually the more common one - Nepalis don't usually ask "What is your age?" but rather "How many years of age have you completed?" But if you do ask for a person's age, they will count it inclusively, meaning that their response will always be one year older than it would be in the USA. In English, I would not be able to tell you whether an age of 24 means "24th year of life" or "24 years completed" without thinking about it for a couple minutes. But in Nepali people actually use the expression "24 years completed," so they instantly understand which is referred to.
My questions: does the fact that Nepalis commonly employ both constructions give them an increased faculty in understanding inclusive vs. exclusive counting? Could you say the language gives different grammatical constructions for inclusive vs. exclusive counting? Will the 2011 Nepali Census be more successful on that particular question?
Eventually I figured out the reason for that. In Somalia, the age of a newborn child at birth is one. After 12 months they turn two, and so on. In America we consider a baby zero years old until their first birthday (we say they are 2 months old, 9 months old, etc.).
That system seems more logical to us, because in English the question "How old are you?" actually means "How many years of life have you completed?" So I turned 24 on December 10th, which actually means that I have completed my 24th year of life and am now precisely 24 years and 3 days old at the time of writing this.
But in Somalia "How old are you?" means "Which year of life are you currently in?" In your first year of life you are one, in your second year you are two, in your twenty-fifth year of life you are twenty-five, etc. This is the difference between inclusive and exclusive counting, and I used to find it very confusing. We count certain things 1, 2, 3... and for certain other things we count 0, 1, 2...
Any of you who know anything about computer programming and had to learn that the first element of a string is not str[1] but rather str[0] know what I'm talking about, but it comes up elsewhere. When I was in middle school nobody could adequately explain to me why we would say that historical events that happened in the 1900s were said to happen in the 20th century, or why a sportscaster would refer to a play at 85:47 as having occurred in the 86th minute of the game. We tend to count most things inclusively (the Somali way, starting from one), but things can get complicated when there is a "rollover," when 99 years becomes century 1, when 59 seconds becomes minute 1, or when 11 months becomes year 1. In English we count the higher expression exclusively, starting from 0.
So in Nepal I have been told that they also count age from 1, which would mean that on December 10th I turned 25. But when I try to explain why I'm 24 in the USA and 25 in Nepal, I'm often met with blank stares.
This is because there are actually two different general ways to express your age in Nepali:
Ma paachhis barshako umer chhu.
I twenty-five years-gen. age am.
(I am twenty-five years old.)
Ma chaúbis barshako umer bhaé/bhaisaké.
I twenty-four years-gen. age became/become-completed.
(I have completed twenty-four years.)
I believe the second expression is actually the more common one - Nepalis don't usually ask "What is your age?" but rather "How many years of age have you completed?" But if you do ask for a person's age, they will count it inclusively, meaning that their response will always be one year older than it would be in the USA. In English, I would not be able to tell you whether an age of 24 means "24th year of life" or "24 years completed" without thinking about it for a couple minutes. But in Nepali people actually use the expression "24 years completed," so they instantly understand which is referred to.
My questions: does the fact that Nepalis commonly employ both constructions give them an increased faculty in understanding inclusive vs. exclusive counting? Could you say the language gives different grammatical constructions for inclusive vs. exclusive counting? Will the 2011 Nepali Census be more successful on that particular question?
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Chants: Politics, Education, and Bears
[Note: This post contains quotes and pictures from the government textbooks, along with my observations. These observations are not intended as criticisms of the government curricula, but are rather intended to convey the reactions I have as an American teaching in a Nepali context. If anyone feels that it is inappropriate for me to post this, please contact me]
As I have posted before, the government textbooks contain many chants and short poems to aid in learning the rhythm of the English language. Here is one from Grade 5:
I want to fly high,
And reach the sky.
I want to go far,
And shine like a star.
But,
I want to be in Nepal,
To die,
When the time is nigh.
First of all, I would like to point out that this song appears to be sung by a giant beat-boxing bear, which is awesome. In fact, if we look on the cover of the textbook...
Secondly, the message here seems obvious: you can and should leave Nepal for study or for work, but you must come back. In a country with a large remittance economy this is a serious issue, and it surprised me to see something so political in a book for 5th graders (of course, this is coming from a resident of Texas, where textbook content is not exactly free from political contention).
In any case, politics-wise these chants are certainly less loaded than the old textbooks, which praised the King and the Queen and taught children to think of the Royal Family as their parents. And this must certainly be better than the Maoist "Revolutionary Education" which taught their children "A is for Attack, B is for Bullet, ..."* Yep, at least there's generally nothing violent and disturbing about these chants. On the other hand...
On Sunday I had a dream.
On Monday I went to a stream.
On Tuesday there was a great flood.
On Wednesday I saw a pond of blood.
On Thursday I cleaned all of them.
On Friday home I came.
On Saturday I woke up and had a big scream.
Whoa. This seems a bit, um, dark for a 5th grade textbook. And it is in the middle of a lesson on the days of the week. Why the violent imagery? Why is there a kid mopping up a puddle of blood in a lesson about the days of the week? Also, the rhyme scheme kind of breaks down toward the end there, but perhaps this symbolizes a descent into madness.
These are the sorts of cultural discontinuities that can make teaching uncomfortable. I have talked to Nepali teachers about this passage and and I have been unable to convey exactly why this poem seems inappropriate to me. One person told me that there have been efforts to move toward "nonviolent education" in Nepal, which was described as avoiding violent images in teaching, e.g. "If Shyam has four goats and then sacrifices two of them, how many are still alive?" But it is not the violence that bothers me at all. This poem is tamer than Lord of the Flies, which is often taught in American middle schools. It just surprises me that a horror story is used to teach fifth graders the days of the week.
Okay, one more:
I like the mountains,
'Cos there are lots of fountains.
I like the birds,
'Cos they steady my nerves.
I like the plains.
'Cos there are a lot of dames.
I like the plains too, but I can think of at least one reason why I would be reluctant to teach this chant to fifth graders.
*I'm pretty sure I have heard this English version somewhere, but I cannot substantiate it. The Nepali language version is well-known to the point of political parody: "A is for Andolan ('Revolution'), B is for Banda ('Strike'), C is for Chakka Jam ('Roadblock')..."
As I have posted before, the government textbooks contain many chants and short poems to aid in learning the rhythm of the English language. Here is one from Grade 5:
I want to fly high,
And reach the sky.
I want to go far,
And shine like a star.
But,
I want to be in Nepal,
To die,
When the time is nigh.
First of all, I would like to point out that this song appears to be sung by a giant beat-boxing bear, which is awesome. In fact, if we look on the cover of the textbook...
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| Holy Cow! That bear has to be like 30 feet tall! Those are full-grown adults down by his left foot! |
Secondly, the message here seems obvious: you can and should leave Nepal for study or for work, but you must come back. In a country with a large remittance economy this is a serious issue, and it surprised me to see something so political in a book for 5th graders (of course, this is coming from a resident of Texas, where textbook content is not exactly free from political contention).
In any case, politics-wise these chants are certainly less loaded than the old textbooks, which praised the King and the Queen and taught children to think of the Royal Family as their parents. And this must certainly be better than the Maoist "Revolutionary Education" which taught their children "A is for Attack, B is for Bullet, ..."* Yep, at least there's generally nothing violent and disturbing about these chants. On the other hand...
On Sunday I had a dream.
On Monday I went to a stream.
On Tuesday there was a great flood.
On Wednesday I saw a pond of blood.
On Thursday I cleaned all of them.
On Friday home I came.
On Saturday I woke up and had a big scream.
Whoa. This seems a bit, um, dark for a 5th grade textbook. And it is in the middle of a lesson on the days of the week. Why the violent imagery? Why is there a kid mopping up a puddle of blood in a lesson about the days of the week? Also, the rhyme scheme kind of breaks down toward the end there, but perhaps this symbolizes a descent into madness.
These are the sorts of cultural discontinuities that can make teaching uncomfortable. I have talked to Nepali teachers about this passage and and I have been unable to convey exactly why this poem seems inappropriate to me. One person told me that there have been efforts to move toward "nonviolent education" in Nepal, which was described as avoiding violent images in teaching, e.g. "If Shyam has four goats and then sacrifices two of them, how many are still alive?" But it is not the violence that bothers me at all. This poem is tamer than Lord of the Flies, which is often taught in American middle schools. It just surprises me that a horror story is used to teach fifth graders the days of the week.
Okay, one more:
I like the mountains,
'Cos there are lots of fountains.
I like the birds,
'Cos they steady my nerves.
I like the plains.
'Cos there are a lot of dames.
I like the plains too, but I can think of at least one reason why I would be reluctant to teach this chant to fifth graders.
*I'm pretty sure I have heard this English version somewhere, but I cannot substantiate it. The Nepali language version is well-known to the point of political parody: "A is for Andolan ('Revolution'), B is for Banda ('Strike'), C is for Chakka Jam ('Roadblock')..."
Sunday, December 12, 2010
American Music in Nepal
The influence of Hindi music is so great that almost every Nepali I have asked tells me they understand Hindi perfectly well but have difficulty speaking it. When there was a cultural program at my school, many students sang and danced to Hindi songs and a few sang in Nepali or Tamang or Newari.
But there is also a general awareness of American music too. It is interesting to ask young Nepalis about their favorite American bands. Here are some of the most popular contenders:
Green Day
Akon
Taylor Swift
Britney Spears
The Grateful Dead
Justin Bieber
Avril Lavigne
50 Cent
What fascinates me is that there is no unity of genre. A ten-year-old boy might say, "My favorites are 50 cent, Slipknot, and Justin Bieber." Just a few Americans bands of various genres manage to make it big in Nepal. Nobody I have met has heard of The Beatles, or The Rolling Stones, or Muse, or Kanye West.
In 2008 I saw t-shirts everywhere with pictures of Britney Spears, Kurt Cobain, and Avril Lavigne (kids described Avril Lavigne as "punky"). Today I see t-shirts featuring Death Note everywhere (which is a Japanese supernatural thriller anime), as well as shirts that claim "Punk will Never Die" or "Emo Forever."
So the Koreans left 9 melodicas at my school, and I've been playing one of them and trying to think about how to teach music. The students know a lot about Hindi music but there isn't much knowledge of musical theory, so during afternoon breaks I have been teaching people who want to learn about basic music skills on the melodica/"mouth piano." Someone told me it would be difficult to form a club because there would be too many students who would want to take it, and there isn't a lot of time, but I'm formulating a plan to get a group together for a class.
The Sanskrit version of Do Re Mi goes like this:
Sa Re Ga Ma Pa Dha Ni Sá
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| Musicians at Dakshinkali during Dashain |
So I have been teaching using these words for the scale. Students have also begun playing a snare drum military-style at the school assemblies, and I fixed up the drum by replacing some broken wingnuts and soldering some of the snares back on. I have been giving a little bit of drum instruction to those students. It is a very nostalgic feeling; it reminds me of my high school drum lessons.
I have also used music in the English classroom once so far. Green Day both gets some currency in Nepal and is not too hard on my ears, so I played "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" for the class and had them fill in the gaps of the lyrics I wrote on the board. Unfortunately, only one boy answered the entire time. He was a big Green Day fan and already knew all of the lyrics, while everybody else looked at me blankly and refused to participate. Apparently nobody except this one boy had ever heard of Green Day or really any other American music. And this boy had been learning at a private school until this year, where he had picked up Green Day. I think everyone else felt out of the loop.
So the first attempt to incorporate music into my English teaching was sort of a disaster, but I think if I continue it will go better. I learned more German from the punk band Die Ärzte than I did from German teachers, so I'm a big believer in that method. I picked up some more music that I think will get currency in Nepal: Avril Lavigne, Linkin Park, and Taylor Swift. Not really my kind of music, but I'm working on how to present it (in addition to, he says pretentiously, "good" music) so that nobody feels ostracized and maybe some students will start listening to these bands and it will improve their English long after I'm gone. And they will all spell "skater" with an 8.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Cat in a Tea Shop
I was sitting with all of the teachers in the tea shop during tiffin, eating curried potatoes and beaten rice and drinking milk tea, when a cat wandered into the store.
'taawar haazi' someone told me, pointing at the cat. They were speaking the Tamang language.
'biralo aayo.' Someone translated into Nepali.
'The cat has come,' one of the English teachers informed me.
A few minutes later the cat wandered away.
'taawar nizi,' said the Tamang speaker.
'biralo gaayo,' said the Nepali speaker.
'The cat has gone,' I translated.
A few minutes later I looked over and saw that the cat had returned and was sitting at the foot of one of the schoolteachers. Without warning the cat leaped four or five feet in the air and landed right above the teacher's head before bounding off onto the shelves above.
'That cat is crazy!' I exclaimed. 'taawar, uh... crazy!'
'taawar crazy,' I heard the Tamang speaker agree.
Then suddenly everyone burst out laughing. I had no idea why.
After about five minutes I was finally told that 'taawar krezi' is Tamang for 'The cat has jumped.'
I never have any clue what is happening around me during tiffin.
'taawar haazi' someone told me, pointing at the cat. They were speaking the Tamang language.
'biralo aayo.' Someone translated into Nepali.
'The cat has come,' one of the English teachers informed me.
A few minutes later the cat wandered away.
'taawar nizi,' said the Tamang speaker.
'biralo gaayo,' said the Nepali speaker.
'The cat has gone,' I translated.
A few minutes later I looked over and saw that the cat had returned and was sitting at the foot of one of the schoolteachers. Without warning the cat leaped four or five feet in the air and landed right above the teacher's head before bounding off onto the shelves above.
'That cat is crazy!' I exclaimed. 'taawar, uh... crazy!'
'taawar crazy,' I heard the Tamang speaker agree.
Then suddenly everyone burst out laughing. I had no idea why.
After about five minutes I was finally told that 'taawar krezi' is Tamang for 'The cat has jumped.'
I never have any clue what is happening around me during tiffin.
Monday, December 6, 2010
31st Conference of the LSN
The 31st Annual Conference of the Linguistic Society of Nepal was a lot of fun. I met a lot of interesting people and heard about a lot of projects and research. One of the officiators of the conference was my TOEFL teacher from NELTA (this is his blog), and he introduced me to people and drove me to a party of linguists and educators and politicians after the first day. I felt very lucky to meet so many brilliant people.
The conference was pretty egalitarian, with research presented by both younger students and seasoned academics. Consequently the quality of the presentations varied considerably, but this struck me as a good thing. Most of the attendees were Nepalis, but there were a handful of foreign linguists from Pakistan, Finland, India, England and the US. There were a few people from SIL and a representative from the Ethnologue. All presentations and discussion were conducted in English. Individual conversations were usually in Nepali, but I also heard a lot of English and Hindi.
Many of the introductory and closing speeches focused on Nepal's unique responsibility as a nation with many endangered languages, and how linguistic work is important to the government's policies of creating a federal republic. A lot of the presentations were of ongoing research into the description of minority languages. There was a lot of discussion of the Linguistic Survey of Nepal, and the difficulties that it has been facing.
Anyway, these were a few of my favorite topics:
- Bhojpuri in Nepalese Education - Apparently before the One Language One Nation policy, primary education was conducted in the Bhojpuri language in certain areas.
- Common Discourse Particles in Nepali - I learned a lot about when Nepalis use the focusing particle chaaí. The presentation lead to some lively discussions of Nepali and English filler words and how new ones arise over time (like like in English and tapaaíko in Nepali) and whether they should be included ias a part of language instruction.
- Code-switching in English and Nepali between Nepali-American teenagers
- Teaching English in the Nepali Context - It mentioned the dangers of relying too heavily on native speakers and foreign advisors in teaching English, and was interestingly presented by my own TOEFL teacher. I like the question "Does a language only belong to its native speakers?"
- Consonants in Ghale - I was glad that there was at least one phonology paper. Apparently Nepal is a good place to do phonology because not many people focus on it here.
- A Project on the Baraam Language - This was a massive three year project to document a language with less than 50 speakers (who are all over 50). They are also creating a textbook and a grammar. Their description made me nostalgic for the Texas German Dialect Project.
Unfortunately I missed several presentations because there were two lecture halls and presentations were never in the order written in the program. If you are interested in any of these topics email me and I can perhaps give you more information on what I learned.
I doubt many linguistic-y types read this blog, though, so for most of you this was probably one of my more boring posts.
The conference was pretty egalitarian, with research presented by both younger students and seasoned academics. Consequently the quality of the presentations varied considerably, but this struck me as a good thing. Most of the attendees were Nepalis, but there were a handful of foreign linguists from Pakistan, Finland, India, England and the US. There were a few people from SIL and a representative from the Ethnologue. All presentations and discussion were conducted in English. Individual conversations were usually in Nepali, but I also heard a lot of English and Hindi.
Many of the introductory and closing speeches focused on Nepal's unique responsibility as a nation with many endangered languages, and how linguistic work is important to the government's policies of creating a federal republic. A lot of the presentations were of ongoing research into the description of minority languages. There was a lot of discussion of the Linguistic Survey of Nepal, and the difficulties that it has been facing.
Anyway, these were a few of my favorite topics:
- Bhojpuri in Nepalese Education - Apparently before the One Language One Nation policy, primary education was conducted in the Bhojpuri language in certain areas.
- Common Discourse Particles in Nepali - I learned a lot about when Nepalis use the focusing particle chaaí. The presentation lead to some lively discussions of Nepali and English filler words and how new ones arise over time (like like in English and tapaaíko in Nepali) and whether they should be included ias a part of language instruction.
- Code-switching in English and Nepali between Nepali-American teenagers
- Teaching English in the Nepali Context - It mentioned the dangers of relying too heavily on native speakers and foreign advisors in teaching English, and was interestingly presented by my own TOEFL teacher. I like the question "Does a language only belong to its native speakers?"
- Consonants in Ghale - I was glad that there was at least one phonology paper. Apparently Nepal is a good place to do phonology because not many people focus on it here.
- A Project on the Baraam Language - This was a massive three year project to document a language with less than 50 speakers (who are all over 50). They are also creating a textbook and a grammar. Their description made me nostalgic for the Texas German Dialect Project.
Unfortunately I missed several presentations because there were two lecture halls and presentations were never in the order written in the program. If you are interested in any of these topics email me and I can perhaps give you more information on what I learned.
I doubt many linguistic-y types read this blog, though, so for most of you this was probably one of my more boring posts.
Friday, December 3, 2010
लूक's Adventures
I just had some official Fulbright business cards printed. One side is in English and the other side is Nepali. My favorite part of the whole process of printing them was the fifteen minute debate about how my name should be spelled in Nepali.
"You should probably spell it ल्युक (lyuk)" I was told.
"Some people pronounce it that way, but I don't. What's wrong with लुक (luk)?" I asked.
"People will think that you've written the English word 'look' on the card."
Which is very true. When I am introduced to an English-speaking Nepali, 9 times out of 10 they will make a comment about how my name means "to see." In Nepali-English the two words are pronounced identically, and it is difficult to convince people that the two sounds are very different in my ears. It is a testament to the confusing variety of English vowel sounds.
In fact at one point I did an impromptu lesson to 10th graders intended to teach students English vowel distinctions (I had just read this post from the Language Log). It involved some repetition of the sentence "Look at Lucky Luke."
What is even closer to my name in terms of the sounds of the word is the root of the Nepali verb luknu, which means 'to hide.' The low-form imperative is pronounced exactly like my name: luk. For example, there is a joke I heard in Tangting about a foreigner who hires two Nepali guides to go tiger-hunting with him even though he does not have enough ammunition and the area is too dangerous for hunting. Eventually the foreigner sees a tiger and yells "A tiger! Look!" So the Nepali guides follow his instructions by throwing down their rifles and climbing up a tree.
Also, there is the Nepali version of Hide-and-Seek, called luka maari ('hide and kill'). The game seems almost identical, except a hiding person can run up behind and tag the person who is it. Incidentally, the person who is it is called 'dhum,' I think, which today is considered an offensive term for a low-caste person. Although calling somebody "it" is not exactly a compliment, is it? Anyway, in terms of blatantly offensive things children say while playing schoolyard games, this can't hold a candle to the American "Smear the Queer" or the original words to "Eenie Meenie Minie Moe." Children do seem to pick up on the prejudices of their elders, don't they...
What was I talking about again? Oh, right, business cards. Well, eventually we looked up a Hindi version of the Bible and saw that the Gospel of Luke in Hindi is the Gospel of लूका or "Luka." So the spelling I settled on is the one you see in the post title, with the "long u" instead of the "short u" (there is no difference in spoken Nepali, only in written Nepali, but it will hopefully suggest a length distinction so that people will stop calling me "Look-Over-There!").
"You should probably spell it ल्युक (lyuk)" I was told.
"Some people pronounce it that way, but I don't. What's wrong with लुक (luk)?" I asked.
"People will think that you've written the English word 'look' on the card."
Which is very true. When I am introduced to an English-speaking Nepali, 9 times out of 10 they will make a comment about how my name means "to see." In Nepali-English the two words are pronounced identically, and it is difficult to convince people that the two sounds are very different in my ears. It is a testament to the confusing variety of English vowel sounds.
In fact at one point I did an impromptu lesson to 10th graders intended to teach students English vowel distinctions (I had just read this post from the Language Log). It involved some repetition of the sentence "Look at Lucky Luke."
What is even closer to my name in terms of the sounds of the word is the root of the Nepali verb luknu, which means 'to hide.' The low-form imperative is pronounced exactly like my name: luk. For example, there is a joke I heard in Tangting about a foreigner who hires two Nepali guides to go tiger-hunting with him even though he does not have enough ammunition and the area is too dangerous for hunting. Eventually the foreigner sees a tiger and yells "A tiger! Look!" So the Nepali guides follow his instructions by throwing down their rifles and climbing up a tree.
Also, there is the Nepali version of Hide-and-Seek, called luka maari ('hide and kill'). The game seems almost identical, except a hiding person can run up behind and tag the person who is it. Incidentally, the person who is it is called 'dhum,' I think, which today is considered an offensive term for a low-caste person. Although calling somebody "it" is not exactly a compliment, is it? Anyway, in terms of blatantly offensive things children say while playing schoolyard games, this can't hold a candle to the American "Smear the Queer" or the original words to "Eenie Meenie Minie Moe." Children do seem to pick up on the prejudices of their elders, don't they...
What was I talking about again? Oh, right, business cards. Well, eventually we looked up a Hindi version of the Bible and saw that the Gospel of Luke in Hindi is the Gospel of लूका or "Luka." So the spelling I settled on is the one you see in the post title, with the "long u" instead of the "short u" (there is no difference in spoken Nepali, only in written Nepali, but it will hopefully suggest a length distinction so that people will stop calling me "Look-Over-There!").
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Language and Power II: The Secret Tongue of the Shah Kings
In Nepali I have encountered three forms of address that are used in everyday life: high, middle, low. Each has its own word for "you" and "he/she" and its own conjugation. I use the high form with teachers and the middle form with students and friends. As far as I can make out, the low form can be derogatory and insulting or it can be used for your closest friend or spouse. I have heard teachers at other schools tell me that they use the low form when addressing their students, but at my school I have only noticed the form used when the teachers were yelling at two boys to stop fighting.
This is how you say "sit down" in each:
High: basnus!
Middle: basa!
Low: bas!
But if I ever met the former King of Nepal, he would expect for me to say "sit down" this way:
basibaksyus!
There is a separate form that is used for the Royal Family and the elite in Kathmandu Valley. But the differences go beyond verb conjugation. For example:
English Normal Nepali Royal Nepali
Come here! aaunus! sawaari hoibaksyus!
to eat khaanu jyunar garibasknu
hand haat bahuli
shoes jutta paupos
to say bhaanu marji hunu
These examples come from a course on second year spoken Nepali that was part of the materials that my Nepali teachers used back when they taught Nepali to Peace Corps Volunteers (before the abolition of the monarchy). My host family, who are Kathmandu Valley resident Chhettries, understood every example and taught me other phrases that I could use in the Royal Nepali court. They told me that it is also the language of certain Indian elites, but in Nepal only people in Kathmandu Valley know it.
This is from Unleashing Nepal by Sujeev Shakya, referring to the Panchayat regime:
"All businesses ran on nepotism and required the special blessing of the royal family in order to effectively start up and function. This was typified in the use of language in particular. The king and royal family members were addressed in a grammatical form that could not be used for common citizens. It contained a lot of Urdu usage and an exclusive vocabulary to describe food, eating, sleeping, and other daily activities. As knowledge of this language was a major advantage in gaining proximity to the power centres around the palace, it functioned as a means of excluding people who were unfamiliar with it."
Indeed, most of the other examples given in the materials relate to seeking favors from the king: nigaaha baksnu (to grace kindly), huknu (to make a Royal proclamation), Tarkyaaunu, (to offer to the king), paaumaa winti chaDaaunu (to make a request to a member of the Royal family), darin baksnu (to pay a visit).
This is a very concrete example of how the knowledge of a language can be very powerful in Nepali society. Because Nepali is the native language of a minority of the Nepali citizens, knowledge of Nepali itself acts in a similar way today, as does the English language.
I asked people in the Valley whether they would still speak this language to the ex-King if they met him today. They said that they still would, as a sign of their continuing respect for the Royal family.
This is how you say "sit down" in each:
High: basnus!
Middle: basa!
Low: bas!
But if I ever met the former King of Nepal, he would expect for me to say "sit down" this way:
basibaksyus!
There is a separate form that is used for the Royal Family and the elite in Kathmandu Valley. But the differences go beyond verb conjugation. For example:
English Normal Nepali Royal Nepali
Come here! aaunus! sawaari hoibaksyus!
to eat khaanu jyunar garibasknu
hand haat bahuli
shoes jutta paupos
to say bhaanu marji hunu
These examples come from a course on second year spoken Nepali that was part of the materials that my Nepali teachers used back when they taught Nepali to Peace Corps Volunteers (before the abolition of the monarchy). My host family, who are Kathmandu Valley resident Chhettries, understood every example and taught me other phrases that I could use in the Royal Nepali court. They told me that it is also the language of certain Indian elites, but in Nepal only people in Kathmandu Valley know it.
This is from Unleashing Nepal by Sujeev Shakya, referring to the Panchayat regime:
"All businesses ran on nepotism and required the special blessing of the royal family in order to effectively start up and function. This was typified in the use of language in particular. The king and royal family members were addressed in a grammatical form that could not be used for common citizens. It contained a lot of Urdu usage and an exclusive vocabulary to describe food, eating, sleeping, and other daily activities. As knowledge of this language was a major advantage in gaining proximity to the power centres around the palace, it functioned as a means of excluding people who were unfamiliar with it."
Indeed, most of the other examples given in the materials relate to seeking favors from the king: nigaaha baksnu (to grace kindly), huknu (to make a Royal proclamation), Tarkyaaunu, (to offer to the king), paaumaa winti chaDaaunu (to make a request to a member of the Royal family), darin baksnu (to pay a visit).
This is a very concrete example of how the knowledge of a language can be very powerful in Nepali society. Because Nepali is the native language of a minority of the Nepali citizens, knowledge of Nepali itself acts in a similar way today, as does the English language.
I asked people in the Valley whether they would still speak this language to the ex-King if they met him today. They said that they still would, as a sign of their continuing respect for the Royal family.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Hanuman Dhoka: XYZ
Dhoka means gate, and Hanuman is an important Hindu deity with the form of a monkey. Hanuman Dhoka refers to Durbar Square, the ancient royal temple complex, but I believe the actual Hanuman Gate is this:
This is all background information for a story about what happened to me right before I left for Kathmandu last week. My host brother came up to me as I was leaving and told me "Hanuman Dhoka kholdaichha" - "The Hanuman Dhoka is opening."
It took me some time to figure out that this is the Nepali equivalent of "your barn door's open." My fly was down. I find this saying hilarious and awesome. It is interesting to me how similar these two phrases are in terms of imagery. I wonder if any other cultures make a comparison between zippers and barriers holding back beasts or monkey gods.
 |
| This is the gate. In the center you can see the red statue of Hanuman, dated to 1672. |
This is all background information for a story about what happened to me right before I left for Kathmandu last week. My host brother came up to me as I was leaving and told me "Hanuman Dhoka kholdaichha" - "The Hanuman Dhoka is opening."
It took me some time to figure out that this is the Nepali equivalent of "your barn door's open." My fly was down. I find this saying hilarious and awesome. It is interesting to me how similar these two phrases are in terms of imagery. I wonder if any other cultures make a comparison between zippers and barriers holding back beasts or monkey gods.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Language and Power
This is why I am in Nepal:
"There are over ninety-two local languages and dialects in Nepal and over a hundred different social groups based on caste, ethnicity, religion and language. The Panchayat regime's promotion of Nepali, even though it was not the mother tongue of a considerable portion of the Nepali citizenry, created an unfair advantage for those who spoke Nepali. Nepali speakers mostly comprised Bahuns and Chhettri, the top two tiers of the traditional Nepali caste system and the state-imposed Nepali language thus became a symbol of oppression, especially among ethnic and linguistic groups who did not speak Nepali. Although this system effectively instilled Nepali language as the primary means of public communication, even by 2001 only 28 per cent of the entire population spoke Nepali. Equally worrisome is the fact that a number of languages unique to particular ethnic groups in Nepal are in danger of dying today."
This is from Unleashing Nepal by Sujeev Shakya, a book that presents the history and current political climate of Nepal from the perspective of economics. The Panchayat regime of the Shah kings began in the 1950s, and during that time Nepali was imposed as the lingua franca of the nation as the king strove for a policy of one nation, one language, one religion. Many people I have talked to say that the establishment of a lingua franca was one of the few good things about the Panchayat regime, although it did and is doing a lot of damage to the ethnic and linguistic diversity of Nepal.
I am here to teach English, which is also very much associated with the elite in Nepali societies. Most private schools are English medium schools, and those who can afford decent private schooling are almost guaranteed English proficiency, but public school students often have difficulties. Where I am teaching most of the students speak Tamang or Newari, learn Nepali as a second language and English as a third, and so learning English can be a challenge. I am living with a Chhettri family. They speak Nepali natively, but I'm learning Tamang and Newari phrases so that I can interact with the students better.
I also want to interact with the Nepali linguistics community when I can, starting with the 31st Annual Conference of the Linguistics Society of Nepal which will be held this Friday and Saturday in Kirtipur. I just had some official Fulbright business cards printed and I'm about to go buy some pants that don't have toothpaste stains on them. I'll let you know how it goes!
"There are over ninety-two local languages and dialects in Nepal and over a hundred different social groups based on caste, ethnicity, religion and language. The Panchayat regime's promotion of Nepali, even though it was not the mother tongue of a considerable portion of the Nepali citizenry, created an unfair advantage for those who spoke Nepali. Nepali speakers mostly comprised Bahuns and Chhettri, the top two tiers of the traditional Nepali caste system and the state-imposed Nepali language thus became a symbol of oppression, especially among ethnic and linguistic groups who did not speak Nepali. Although this system effectively instilled Nepali language as the primary means of public communication, even by 2001 only 28 per cent of the entire population spoke Nepali. Equally worrisome is the fact that a number of languages unique to particular ethnic groups in Nepal are in danger of dying today."
This is from Unleashing Nepal by Sujeev Shakya, a book that presents the history and current political climate of Nepal from the perspective of economics. The Panchayat regime of the Shah kings began in the 1950s, and during that time Nepali was imposed as the lingua franca of the nation as the king strove for a policy of one nation, one language, one religion. Many people I have talked to say that the establishment of a lingua franca was one of the few good things about the Panchayat regime, although it did and is doing a lot of damage to the ethnic and linguistic diversity of Nepal.
I am here to teach English, which is also very much associated with the elite in Nepali societies. Most private schools are English medium schools, and those who can afford decent private schooling are almost guaranteed English proficiency, but public school students often have difficulties. Where I am teaching most of the students speak Tamang or Newari, learn Nepali as a second language and English as a third, and so learning English can be a challenge. I am living with a Chhettri family. They speak Nepali natively, but I'm learning Tamang and Newari phrases so that I can interact with the students better.
I also want to interact with the Nepali linguistics community when I can, starting with the 31st Annual Conference of the Linguistics Society of Nepal which will be held this Friday and Saturday in Kirtipur. I just had some official Fulbright business cards printed and I'm about to go buy some pants that don't have toothpaste stains on them. I'll let you know how it goes!
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Tihar
I really like Tihar because it reminds me of Christmas more than any other Nepali holiday. It was a five-day holiday at the beginning of November. There is a day for worshipping crows, one for dogs, one for cows, and one for brothers. People paint pathways of red mud all throughout their house and walkways and light candles along them to encourage Laxmi, the Goddess of Wealth, to visit their home. There are fireworks and people string up colored lights and children go door to door singing Tihar songs in exchange for money. This caroling 'game' is called Baili Ram on one day and Diosi Re on another; traditionally one day was for girls and the other for boys. On the last day there is a large puja ceremony in which brothers are given ritual protection by their sisters: an oil ring is drawn around them, oil is placed on their head and in their ears, and they are given a special tikka consisting of a thin yellow line with seven different colored dots running down it. The brothers give the same tikka to their sisters, and plates of nuts and fruits and candy are exchanged for money.
My camera has deserted me, so I created a little video of Tihar images and sounds from my laptop's webcam. Here it is.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Devanangreji II
Since the Dashain - Tihar festival season started, I've noticed these Pepsi signs appearing over storefronts. It is an interesting marketing campaign by Pepsi to capitalize on the Christmas-like festivity of the season. Check it out:
 |
| da-shaí ti-ha-r |
I've never seen iconic "American-style" graffiti like that anywhere in Kathmandu, not in Roman letters or in Devanagari. I guess it is pretty instantly recognizable as American, though. And the figures along the left and right (in the first picture) are all wearing Western-style clothing but one of them is doing a traditional Dashain activity: he is holding a spool attached to a kite.
Monday, November 15, 2010
The News from Nepal: Blogs and Porn and Teacher's Strikes
Sometimes these blog entries refer to things that have happened a week or two weeks ago. The reason for that is that I generally spend one or two weeks in the village teaching without much in the way of Internet access. But I spend a lot of time talking and thinking and writing, and when I come into Kathmandu for a couple of days I will write up five or six blog entries and then set them to self-post over the course of the next two weeks or so. That way you don't have to comb through massive updates.
Anyway, here are a couple of things that have been happening lately:
Teachers close schools across nation for security
The Wednesday before Tihar break our school closed as part of a nationwide strike protesting the murder of some teachers in the Terai. I was visiting the private school Shangri-La on that day, and that school was not closed; the strike was only for government schools. People tell me that way out in certain parts of the Terai being a teacher is still dangerous because political affiliation and the tactics of revolutionaries are wrapped up into the educational system. For those of you who care about my well-being I feel the need to tell you that this culture is very far removed from my safe little village in Kathmandu Valley, but I still felt the political reverberations. Striking to protest policies or in memoriam people who have passed away is common in many different occupations in Nepal.
Let's talk about porn
The last time I was in Kathmandu I noticed that I couldn't access this blogging service for my account or any of the blogs that I follow. Later I found out that the Nepali government was blocking Blogspot as part of their campaign to restrict pornography to Nepali citizens. Somehow Blogspot and The Huffington Post among others ended up on the list of restricted sites. Interesting stuff going on in this fledgling democracy as the government negotiates civil rights and the policing of the population.
Speaking of blogs, here are two blargs o' note:
Simon's Blog
Simon is my fellow ETA in Nepal. I am losing a slow battle with him over who has the most popular and awesomest of blogs.
Lukas' Blog
Lukas teaches English in China. He is pretty much the same person as me, except stronger, handsomer, better at teaching, and four times as Czechoslovakian.
Anyway, here are a couple of things that have been happening lately:
Teachers close schools across nation for security
The Wednesday before Tihar break our school closed as part of a nationwide strike protesting the murder of some teachers in the Terai. I was visiting the private school Shangri-La on that day, and that school was not closed; the strike was only for government schools. People tell me that way out in certain parts of the Terai being a teacher is still dangerous because political affiliation and the tactics of revolutionaries are wrapped up into the educational system. For those of you who care about my well-being I feel the need to tell you that this culture is very far removed from my safe little village in Kathmandu Valley, but I still felt the political reverberations. Striking to protest policies or in memoriam people who have passed away is common in many different occupations in Nepal.
Let's talk about porn
The last time I was in Kathmandu I noticed that I couldn't access this blogging service for my account or any of the blogs that I follow. Later I found out that the Nepali government was blocking Blogspot as part of their campaign to restrict pornography to Nepali citizens. Somehow Blogspot and The Huffington Post among others ended up on the list of restricted sites. Interesting stuff going on in this fledgling democracy as the government negotiates civil rights and the policing of the population.
Speaking of blogs, here are two blargs o' note:
Simon's Blog
Simon is my fellow ETA in Nepal. I am losing a slow battle with him over who has the most popular and awesomest of blogs.
Lukas' Blog
Lukas teaches English in China. He is pretty much the same person as me, except stronger, handsomer, better at teaching, and four times as Czechoslovakian.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Morning Assembly
Some images from morning assembly at Shree Udaya Kharka Secondary School:
I also filmed a short video of the morning assembly and added subtitles. I had a lot of fun translating the national anthem into English, although there are probably a couple of mistakes.
That video is here:
I also filmed a short video of the morning assembly and added subtitles. I had a lot of fun translating the national anthem into English, although there are probably a couple of mistakes.
That video is here:
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Speaking a Foreign Language Makes You Less Intelligent
This is a fundamental truth about speaking a language (learned as an adult), but it is often forgotten. And forgetting this truth can have profound social consequences.
I am fluent enough in the Nepali language that I can hold a basic conversation on most topics, and even excel on a few choice topics (mother language education, food, etc.). But speaking in Nepali I just "feel" less intelligent. It takes me longer to parse sentences and longer to respond. I forget words and mix others up and am often laughed at for some amusing mistake. Thinking is just harder to do. It takes longer and it is exhausting. I would estimate that when I speak Nepali I feel about 60% as intelligent as when I speak English (with German I feel about 80% as intelligent and with Spanish I feel about 20% as intelligent).
When I speak Nepali, I am the same person as when I speak English, but the outward manifestation of my personality can be much different. I may be bolder or I may be more shy, depending upon how I face the challenge and constant humiliation of being forced to express myself in a less intelligent (and oftentimes laughably simplistic) way. That is the discomfort and terror of language-learning, and also its exhilarating challenge.
But oftentimes teachers forget this. They teach language as if it were a skill like long division, and not a fundamental means of expressing oneself. They berate their students for not speaking out in class, while forgetting the terror and frustration that they experienced in their own language classes.
And forgetting this truth can have other societal implications as well. It can lead to subtle mental judgments about the intelligence of immigrants or foreigners. When we hear the foreign-accented speech of our own language, we often do not immediately acknowledge that this person is expending a great deal more mental effort to communicate his or her ideas than we are. This person sounds stupid to us even though they are doing something that requires incredible mental stamina and courage.
Coming from a very monolingual society, this is something I need to keep in mind every day that I teach English. The best remedy for that is to get laughed at by a 10-year-old for mixing up the Nepali word for "the day after tomorrow" with the word for "pumpkin."
I am fluent enough in the Nepali language that I can hold a basic conversation on most topics, and even excel on a few choice topics (mother language education, food, etc.). But speaking in Nepali I just "feel" less intelligent. It takes me longer to parse sentences and longer to respond. I forget words and mix others up and am often laughed at for some amusing mistake. Thinking is just harder to do. It takes longer and it is exhausting. I would estimate that when I speak Nepali I feel about 60% as intelligent as when I speak English (with German I feel about 80% as intelligent and with Spanish I feel about 20% as intelligent).
But oftentimes teachers forget this. They teach language as if it were a skill like long division, and not a fundamental means of expressing oneself. They berate their students for not speaking out in class, while forgetting the terror and frustration that they experienced in their own language classes.
And forgetting this truth can have other societal implications as well. It can lead to subtle mental judgments about the intelligence of immigrants or foreigners. When we hear the foreign-accented speech of our own language, we often do not immediately acknowledge that this person is expending a great deal more mental effort to communicate his or her ideas than we are. This person sounds stupid to us even though they are doing something that requires incredible mental stamina and courage.
Coming from a very monolingual society, this is something I need to keep in mind every day that I teach English. The best remedy for that is to get laughed at by a 10-year-old for mixing up the Nepali word for "the day after tomorrow" with the word for "pumpkin."
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Chants: Stressed Grandmas
The lower secondary government textbooks include many games, poems, and chants. As an American faced with teaching some of these chants to Nepalis, I find them to be often silly, occasionally confusing, and in some cases mildly disturbing. But I think they provide a very useful but hidden service to the students. My first week I taught a chant that started out like this:
"Grandma's going to the grocery shop.
One, two, jump, hop."
How would you teach this as a back-and-forth between the teacher and student? How would you pronounce it? I raised my hands like a conductor and waved my hand in time and spoke the first line this:
GRANDma's GOing to the GROcery SHOP
1 2 3 4
Imitating me, they responded like this:
GRANDma's GOing TO the GROcery SHOP
1 2 3 4 5
It took four or five tries before they spoke it exactly the way I did. English is a stress-timed language, and Nepali is a syllable-timed language. That means that in English the rhythm and speed of the language is determined by stress: we try to keep the time between one stressed syllable and the next approximately the same throughout the sentence. The time between "GRAND" and "GO" is equal to the time between "GO" and "GRO," so we have to smush three unaccented syllable together in the middle: "-ing to the."
In Nepali and other syllable-timed languages, the distance between one syllable and another is always equal. You can often hear this in the accent of nonnative speakers of English (this is also true for Hindi and French, for example). It sounds as though they are stressing EV-ER-Y SY-LLA-BLE E-QUA-LLY. So the students imitated me by stressing every other syllable in the sentence.
This is a very difficult thing to learn about English, and these chants are an incredibly ingenious way to teach it to students. However, these exercises are much less useful if the teacher does not understand the intricacies of English rhythm and prosody, which is very often the case. It really helps if you a native intuition about these things. This is one of the reasons why I am focusing on teaching speaking and listening skills while letting the counterpart teachers handle reading and writing.
"Grandma's going to the grocery shop.
One, two, jump, hop."
How would you teach this as a back-and-forth between the teacher and student? How would you pronounce it? I raised my hands like a conductor and waved my hand in time and spoke the first line this:
GRANDma's GOing to the GROcery SHOP
1 2 3 4
Imitating me, they responded like this:
GRANDma's GOing TO the GROcery SHOP
1 2 3 4 5
It took four or five tries before they spoke it exactly the way I did. English is a stress-timed language, and Nepali is a syllable-timed language. That means that in English the rhythm and speed of the language is determined by stress: we try to keep the time between one stressed syllable and the next approximately the same throughout the sentence. The time between "GRAND" and "GO" is equal to the time between "GO" and "GRO," so we have to smush three unaccented syllable together in the middle: "-ing to the."
In Nepali and other syllable-timed languages, the distance between one syllable and another is always equal. You can often hear this in the accent of nonnative speakers of English (this is also true for Hindi and French, for example). It sounds as though they are stressing EV-ER-Y SY-LLA-BLE E-QUA-LLY. So the students imitated me by stressing every other syllable in the sentence.
This is a very difficult thing to learn about English, and these chants are an incredibly ingenious way to teach it to students. However, these exercises are much less useful if the teacher does not understand the intricacies of English rhythm and prosody, which is very often the case. It really helps if you a native intuition about these things. This is one of the reasons why I am focusing on teaching speaking and listening skills while letting the counterpart teachers handle reading and writing.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
First Week of School
So after a month of training, a week of observation and then another two weeks of holiday, this week I began teaching at Shree Udaya Kharka School.
How did it go? Well, to start out with, this week was atypical because two of my three counterpart teachers were gone for the week. So I taught class 5, 7, 8, and 9 alone. I also taught impromptu 'guest lectures' to class 10 because the students requested it of me - when a teacher is absent at this school the students end up just sitting in that class alone for the whole period. Apparently I was more entertaining than staring at a blank whiteboard, so that's encouraging.
It is much, much easier to teach alone than it is to teach as a team. When I am alone in a class I can come up with my own lesson plan and follow it through - sometimes I can even speak in Nepali if its needed. But with another teacher I have to negotiate what my responsibilities are beforehand. And this can range from sitting in the back of the class and helping the teacher pronounce words to teaching lessons. Many teachers do not prepare lesson plans because they are teaching directly from the government textbook. But this more difficult work of negotiating with the teachers in the classroom is more important; I am here to be an English language resource.
The classes are usually about 40 students. For the first day in classes 7, 8, and 9 I had each student fill out a flashcard with their name, their village, and the languages they speak. This allowed me to start learning names and lead into a short lesson on adjectives but it also gave me some useful information about the students.
About 50% of the students wrote that they speak Tamang, 10% speak Newari, and a few speak other local languages. Most say that they speak Hindi and about a third say that they speak English. Most wrote two languages, either "Nepali and English" or "Nepali and Tamang" (if they wrote down a local language, they were generally less likely to also write down English). Some wrote three, four, or five languages. One student claimed to speak six: Nepali, English, Hindi, Newari, Tamang, and Pahari. So there should be a lot of interesting challenges.
The teachers have been very welcoming. We have an opportunity to talk during the tiffin break. Tiffin corresponds to lunchtime but consists of a smaller snack, the two main meals of the day being eaten at around 9:00 AM and then again in the evening (which is very difficult to get used to because I am never hungry in the mornings). During tiffin, I often go out with the teachers to a local tea shop and eat spiced potatoes and beaten rice and drink tea. Every day I am planning on learning a new sentence in either Tamang or Newari. I've already been taught the lyrics to the Nepali national anthem, a popular folk song, and a popular Nepali rap song entitled Timro Babu (Your Daddy).
So the week was a qualified success. There were quite a few frustrations and more than a couple awkward pauses in front of a silent classroom. We'll see how it goes when my two other counterpart teachers return.
How did it go? Well, to start out with, this week was atypical because two of my three counterpart teachers were gone for the week. So I taught class 5, 7, 8, and 9 alone. I also taught impromptu 'guest lectures' to class 10 because the students requested it of me - when a teacher is absent at this school the students end up just sitting in that class alone for the whole period. Apparently I was more entertaining than staring at a blank whiteboard, so that's encouraging.
It is much, much easier to teach alone than it is to teach as a team. When I am alone in a class I can come up with my own lesson plan and follow it through - sometimes I can even speak in Nepali if its needed. But with another teacher I have to negotiate what my responsibilities are beforehand. And this can range from sitting in the back of the class and helping the teacher pronounce words to teaching lessons. Many teachers do not prepare lesson plans because they are teaching directly from the government textbook. But this more difficult work of negotiating with the teachers in the classroom is more important; I am here to be an English language resource.
The classes are usually about 40 students. For the first day in classes 7, 8, and 9 I had each student fill out a flashcard with their name, their village, and the languages they speak. This allowed me to start learning names and lead into a short lesson on adjectives but it also gave me some useful information about the students.
About 50% of the students wrote that they speak Tamang, 10% speak Newari, and a few speak other local languages. Most say that they speak Hindi and about a third say that they speak English. Most wrote two languages, either "Nepali and English" or "Nepali and Tamang" (if they wrote down a local language, they were generally less likely to also write down English). Some wrote three, four, or five languages. One student claimed to speak six: Nepali, English, Hindi, Newari, Tamang, and Pahari. So there should be a lot of interesting challenges.
In Nepal students show a lot of respect to teachers and stand up in front of the class whenever they are called on, so they tend to be very shy when they do answer. They are generally not used to volunteering unless they are the top students in the class, and generally two or three students seem to be way ahead of everyone else. It is often very difficult to choose a random student and coax them into any sort of response. When you intentionally speak only English and they do not understand immediately, other students will yell out Nepali translations. There is no culture of raising your hand to volunteer an answer, and so I played a game with a few classes where they all had to raise their hand if they lived in a certain village or spoke a certain language or had been to a certain destination, to get people used to the idea. The stand-up sit-down move-around games were the most successful, but they are really only appropriate for the younger classes.
The teachers have been very welcoming. We have an opportunity to talk during the tiffin break. Tiffin corresponds to lunchtime but consists of a smaller snack, the two main meals of the day being eaten at around 9:00 AM and then again in the evening (which is very difficult to get used to because I am never hungry in the mornings). During tiffin, I often go out with the teachers to a local tea shop and eat spiced potatoes and beaten rice and drink tea. Every day I am planning on learning a new sentence in either Tamang or Newari. I've already been taught the lyrics to the Nepali national anthem, a popular folk song, and a popular Nepali rap song entitled Timro Babu (Your Daddy).
So the week was a qualified success. There were quite a few frustrations and more than a couple awkward pauses in front of a silent classroom. We'll see how it goes when my two other counterpart teachers return.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Dashain
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| Durga Puja - household ceremony worshipping the Goddess Durga |
For the first few days of Dashain I was in Kathmandu with the other ETAs completing our training. We also had some time to throw a kickin' party for the Fulbrighters and Friends. There were margaritas. I made queso.
Then for the most important days of Dashain we returned to our villages to celebrate with families. Back in 2008 my Dashain revolved almost entirely around kite-fighting, but this year the weather was rainy and I only got to fly a few kites. I didn't see a single kite fight. This family was all business: they told me that they had to prepare for the arrival of 70 guests. I mostly went on errands with my brother.
The eldest son has the responsibility of "cutting" the goats, performing the sacrifice, but my brother's uncle's family has no male sons and so the responsibility fell to him. We went out to a market to pick out a kashi, which technically means castrated goat but in this case meant a male goat for sacrifice.
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| The process of picking out a goat for Dashain sacrifice reminded me a lot of driving out to a Christmas tree lot to pick out a tree. You have to get there early or all the good ones will be taken. |
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| People judge goats by weight, size, color, liveliness, horns, testicles - every inch of the goat is prodded, pulled, inspected. Whenever they would cup a goat I would advise the goat to cough, but nobody else really seemed to think that was funny. |
On the way out I was interviewed by a reporter from a Nepali news station about whether or not I believed the practice of goat sacrifice was cruel. I tried to muddle through an explanation of factory farming in the US and how these sacrifices seemed much more open and celebratory of the life of the animal, but it was sort of half-Nepali half-English and the interviewer looked confused. I don't think my interview aired.
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| This is much safer than it looks. |
We carefully drove the goat down into the valley and arrived at the uncle's house.
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| Preparing the fire for the goat |
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| Blessing of the khukuri, the famous Nepali knife that is used for the ceremony. First a small vegetable is cut at the sacrificial altar. |
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| The goat is blessed, sprinkled with tikka and burning brands and water, and given lots of treats. |
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| The head is separated in one strike or else it is considered extremely unlucky. I was never allowed to help out with holding the goat, but they told me to take videos of the sacrifices. |
They would not let me participate in any part of the sacrifice, but they certainly let me help clean out the intestines and stomach of the goat down at the well. I would say that this particular part of the process would do more for the cause of vegetarianism than anything I've described so far, including the beheading. But after I had seen the whole process from purchase to plate and I had tried a bit of spiced succulent roasted goat, sekuti, I felt pretty good about my omnivorous instincts. The whole process seemed pretty humane and open and respectful. The people I talked to, however, people who had been performing these sacrifices, told me "these are the bad customs of the Nepali people."
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| Final product of the goat sacrifice. |
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| Host Mother Sarita, Host Brother Sabin, and Myself at Dakshinkali. |
I wasn't really allowed inside to the altar, but it was pretty interesting watching people purchasing offerings of fruit and seeds and flowers, goats and chickens carted around for sacrifices, sadhu holy men and musicians and food vendors and beggars.
That afternoon many family members came by to be blessed by their elder relatives. I was included within the family hierarchy, and I gave tikka to my younger brothers.
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| Host Father Uddhab (right) and his brothers. |
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| Tikka is placed on the forehead while blessings of prosperity and prayers are uttered. The ritually-grown jammara is placed behind the ears and on the top of the head. |
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| My blessing, translated into English, was "May you teach well, study well, earn a PHD and come back to Nepal." |
During the last few days of Dashain all of the ETAs took a trip to Pokhara. We stayed there for four nights, in a wonderful hotel. We rented scooters and saw Devi Falls:
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| Named, according to one of a number of conflicting account, for Mrs. Davis, a Swiss tourist who tragically drowned there in the 1970s. Devi is a Nepalism for "Davis," being the Nepali word for God. |
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| Peace Pagoda above Phewa Tal. |
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