Actually, this is the second time I have sat down to write this
post. I started once and found myself writing paragraph after paragraph
of cultural "stuff" that was all convoluted and wandering, and frankly,
not very important. I realized that, already, I could write pages upon
pages of things that I have observed here -- things similar to the US,
things different from the US, things that I don't understand yet, and so
on.
It also dawned on me that I could write entire blog posts from individual stories of things: like our mysterious car problem that took two months to solve; the process of getting our vehicle registration renewed which lasted two weeks rather than the estimated two hours; our experiences in church small groups and the people in them. There are just so many things about Swazi life in which the particular details of the thing both compare and contrast to its US equivalent that illustrate so well the experience of living in a foreign culture. And these stories are probably more interesting and important than trying to simply write down things that I have observed.
So that is what I'm going to try to do -- tell these stories that I have found important to my own experience of living here. I won't do it all in this post, but I'll relate them one at a time in subsequent posts. After I've been in Swaziland for six more months, perhaps I'll figure out a better way to process the cultural adjustments that we are making and everything that comes with that. But for now, I'll do it this way, and I hope you find these stories interesting.
I feel somewhat compelled to offer a disclaimer before I start, however. Cultures are different. [Well duh, Joel.] I'm saying so explicitly now, and here's why. I'm going to do my best to write about my experiences in ways that do not make value judgments about the cultural phenomena that I observe. However, to write my stories requires that I write about my subjective emotions and reactions, which necessarily reflect cultural value judgments even when I don't intend or even want to judge anything. [The fact that I'm writing this paragraph at all says much about the reality of cross-cultural living, in that it has forced me to be aware, on an almost daily basis, of my own culture and how different it is from the culture in which I am now living.] Assuming that most people who will read these words are Americans, I'm asking you as the reader to be conscious of your own culture as well. Please suspend judgments about Swazi culture or African cultures as you read my stories, mainly for the reason that you are hearing these stories from a foreigner's perspective in relation to an African person. Therefore, as the author, even my own cultural perceptions at this point are (almost certainly) wildly inaccurate.
So I'll start with a short story now, with more to come later.
Learning siSwati
During our stint here, I am trying to learn siSwati as much as is practical. I have enough experience as a linguist that I am doing OK teaching myself, but I'm not able to practice very much simply because I spend a lot of time at home with William. One time-tested method for learning languages is to develop relationships with certain individuals who you see regularly and repeatedly, tell them that you are trying to learn their language, and then practice whenever you see them. Most all the time, people are willing to help you (as a foreigner) learn their language in this very casual and informal way. This approach is especially helpful here in Swaziland, where most everyone in social and economic contexts speaks both English and siSwati, so you ask for clarification about things. Thus far, I have developed this kind of relationship with two different people whom I see about once per week. Both are women, probably in their twenties or thirties, and at this point all I know about them are their respective names.
Hlengiwe (the "hl" on the front is pronounced roughly like it looks -- if you try saying an "H" and an "L" together you'll be close to it, probably as close as you can get without someone coaching you on the proper pronounciation) is one of the parking attendants at the Swazi Plaza, one of the main shopping places in downtown Mbabane. I met her the first time I went there way back in October or November, right after we arrived in country. I had learned that the standard farewell greeting was "Sala kahle!" (which means, "stay well"), but I didn't know how to pronounce it. So after I paid her for parking, I asked her how to say "stay well" in siSwati. She pronounced it for me, and I mimicked it as best I could, which wasn't very well. I laughed and said, in English, "I'm trying to learn siSwati!" She smiled, graciously, and said something as I drove off, although I don't remember what. Anyhow, I have gotten to the point now where I can carry on the entire professional conversation of paying for parking in siSwati, and now I'm trying to practice some other basic conversational skills. Like I said, so far I've only gotten to, "What is your name?"
Ndomba (don't pronounce the "N" at the beginning, and you basically have it) works at a convenience store next to the bus rank in Manzini. The 'bus rank' is the place in the center of town where all the taxis and buses pick up and drop off. On the days that I teach at ZBC, I take the kombi (i.e. mini-bus) to Manzini and meet up with the other staff there before we all head out to the location where we are teaching for the day. I only teach one day per week, but I always go to the same convenience store to buy some biscuits and juice to have for the drive. Ndomba works there as a cleaner, and when I come through she is usually mopping the floor before the day's foot traffic picks up. I would always greet her, sometimes in English and sometimes in siSwati, and after a few times she began to recognize me. Around Easter, ZBC had a two-week break, so I didn't go to that store at all during that time. Our first week back to teach was this past week, and I went in to the store as usual. When she saw me, her face immediately brightened and she said, "Oh, it's my friend! I haven't seen you!" It gave us an opportunity to chat for a few minutes, in English, and I learned that her name is Ndomba.
So there you have it, six months of self-taught language learning. It's very slow, I know. However, I have discovered that the little conversational knowledge that I have is more than many ex-pats who have been here for years and years (and not just Americans now). This is one of my first cultural observations. Swaziland has been rather progressive in having required everyone in school to study English. This has been the case for decades. One result of this, however, has been that some foreigners who come to Swaziland have simply spoken English and not learned much siSwati, if any. On the other hand, I have met some foreigners, usually business-owners, who speak siSwati fluently.
It also dawned on me that I could write entire blog posts from individual stories of things: like our mysterious car problem that took two months to solve; the process of getting our vehicle registration renewed which lasted two weeks rather than the estimated two hours; our experiences in church small groups and the people in them. There are just so many things about Swazi life in which the particular details of the thing both compare and contrast to its US equivalent that illustrate so well the experience of living in a foreign culture. And these stories are probably more interesting and important than trying to simply write down things that I have observed.
So that is what I'm going to try to do -- tell these stories that I have found important to my own experience of living here. I won't do it all in this post, but I'll relate them one at a time in subsequent posts. After I've been in Swaziland for six more months, perhaps I'll figure out a better way to process the cultural adjustments that we are making and everything that comes with that. But for now, I'll do it this way, and I hope you find these stories interesting.
I feel somewhat compelled to offer a disclaimer before I start, however. Cultures are different. [Well duh, Joel.] I'm saying so explicitly now, and here's why. I'm going to do my best to write about my experiences in ways that do not make value judgments about the cultural phenomena that I observe. However, to write my stories requires that I write about my subjective emotions and reactions, which necessarily reflect cultural value judgments even when I don't intend or even want to judge anything. [The fact that I'm writing this paragraph at all says much about the reality of cross-cultural living, in that it has forced me to be aware, on an almost daily basis, of my own culture and how different it is from the culture in which I am now living.] Assuming that most people who will read these words are Americans, I'm asking you as the reader to be conscious of your own culture as well. Please suspend judgments about Swazi culture or African cultures as you read my stories, mainly for the reason that you are hearing these stories from a foreigner's perspective in relation to an African person. Therefore, as the author, even my own cultural perceptions at this point are (almost certainly) wildly inaccurate.
So I'll start with a short story now, with more to come later.
Learning siSwati
During our stint here, I am trying to learn siSwati as much as is practical. I have enough experience as a linguist that I am doing OK teaching myself, but I'm not able to practice very much simply because I spend a lot of time at home with William. One time-tested method for learning languages is to develop relationships with certain individuals who you see regularly and repeatedly, tell them that you are trying to learn their language, and then practice whenever you see them. Most all the time, people are willing to help you (as a foreigner) learn their language in this very casual and informal way. This approach is especially helpful here in Swaziland, where most everyone in social and economic contexts speaks both English and siSwati, so you ask for clarification about things. Thus far, I have developed this kind of relationship with two different people whom I see about once per week. Both are women, probably in their twenties or thirties, and at this point all I know about them are their respective names.
Hlengiwe (the "hl" on the front is pronounced roughly like it looks -- if you try saying an "H" and an "L" together you'll be close to it, probably as close as you can get without someone coaching you on the proper pronounciation) is one of the parking attendants at the Swazi Plaza, one of the main shopping places in downtown Mbabane. I met her the first time I went there way back in October or November, right after we arrived in country. I had learned that the standard farewell greeting was "Sala kahle!" (which means, "stay well"), but I didn't know how to pronounce it. So after I paid her for parking, I asked her how to say "stay well" in siSwati. She pronounced it for me, and I mimicked it as best I could, which wasn't very well. I laughed and said, in English, "I'm trying to learn siSwati!" She smiled, graciously, and said something as I drove off, although I don't remember what. Anyhow, I have gotten to the point now where I can carry on the entire professional conversation of paying for parking in siSwati, and now I'm trying to practice some other basic conversational skills. Like I said, so far I've only gotten to, "What is your name?"
Ndomba (don't pronounce the "N" at the beginning, and you basically have it) works at a convenience store next to the bus rank in Manzini. The 'bus rank' is the place in the center of town where all the taxis and buses pick up and drop off. On the days that I teach at ZBC, I take the kombi (i.e. mini-bus) to Manzini and meet up with the other staff there before we all head out to the location where we are teaching for the day. I only teach one day per week, but I always go to the same convenience store to buy some biscuits and juice to have for the drive. Ndomba works there as a cleaner, and when I come through she is usually mopping the floor before the day's foot traffic picks up. I would always greet her, sometimes in English and sometimes in siSwati, and after a few times she began to recognize me. Around Easter, ZBC had a two-week break, so I didn't go to that store at all during that time. Our first week back to teach was this past week, and I went in to the store as usual. When she saw me, her face immediately brightened and she said, "Oh, it's my friend! I haven't seen you!" It gave us an opportunity to chat for a few minutes, in English, and I learned that her name is Ndomba.
So there you have it, six months of self-taught language learning. It's very slow, I know. However, I have discovered that the little conversational knowledge that I have is more than many ex-pats who have been here for years and years (and not just Americans now). This is one of my first cultural observations. Swaziland has been rather progressive in having required everyone in school to study English. This has been the case for decades. One result of this, however, has been that some foreigners who come to Swaziland have simply spoken English and not learned much siSwati, if any. On the other hand, I have met some foreigners, usually business-owners, who speak siSwati fluently.
No comments:
Post a Comment