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!").
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