Language Learning; Assumptions and Imagination.

While learning Kope, I am organising my own daily language classes. In these approximately hour long sessions, I use a variety of approaches, but one of my main tools is pictures. I have a collection of old calendars from PNG, as well as series of pictures that make up a story, and sketches of life in PNG. Using these pictures we describe things, ask questions and tell stories. Along the way, I have discovered that my imagination and assumptions work differently to women I am sitting with and learning from.

One picture I intended to use to learn the phrase for ‘The boy is reading’. I got many phrases, but not that one. The boy was lying on the mat, the boy was looking at the camera, the boy was holding the book, the boy was looking at the pictures (of which there were none) and the boy wanted to read, but at no point was the boy reading. I was both frustrated and fascinated by our different assumptions. My teacher thought the boy was too young to read, so would not describe him as reading. He was also clearly looking at the camera, not at the book, so couldn’t be reading.

Reading? From SIL PNG 2014 calendar, June.
Photo by Catherine McGuckin.

Another time, I had been learning the many ways to say ‘go’, depending on who was going and when. I then wanted to switch to saying come, but hit a road block, because whenever I wanted to elicit the phrase for ‘we will come from X’, I was told that we had not gone there. After that I got extra practice with the phrases for going, as first we had to go before we could come. I was being abstract in my approach to language, but they were being much more concrete.

 A tiny picture of a frog chasing a snake
chasing a gecko that was the basis of a
fun story we made up.

I have been using a number of picture books to learn how to tell stories. The first time I gave the book to someone and asked them to tell a story, but they quickly got stuck. The next time I stumbled my way through the book, being corrected every second word, then asked them to tell the story. Most people would tell the story very much how I told it. Only one or two people would add their own colour to the tale. I wonder if this reflects a culture which values being able to remember and retell traditional tales more than it does being able to create new ones.

Pictures are a wonderful tool for language learning, but they still require common assumptions for the learning process to work.

Language Learning; Assumptions and Imagination.

While learning Kope, I am organising my own daily language classes. In these approximately hour long sessions, I use a variety of approaches, but one of my main tools is pictures. I have a collection of old calendars from PNG, as well as series of pictures that make up a story, and sketches of life in PNG. Using these pictures we describe things, ask questions and tell stories. Along the way, I have discovered that my imagination and assumptions work differently to women I am sitting with and learning from.

One picture I intended to use to learn the phrase for ‘The boy is reading’. I got many phrases, but not that one. The boy was lying on the mat, the boy was looking at the camera, the boy was holding the book, the boy was looking at the pictures (of which there were none) and the boy wanted to read, but at no point was the boy reading. I was both frustrated and fascinated by our different assumptions. My teacher thought the boy was too young to read, so would not describe him as reading. He was also clearly looking at the camera, not at the book, so couldn’t be reading.

Reading? From SIL PNG 2014 calendar, June.
Photo by Catherine McGuckin.

Another time, I had been learning the many ways to say ‘go’, depending on who was going and when. I then wanted to switch to saying come, but hit a road block, because whenever I wanted to elicit the phrase for ‘we will come from X’, I was told that we had not gone there. After that I got extra practice with the phrases for going, as first we had to go before we could come. I was being abstract in my approach to language, but they were being much more concrete.

 A tiny picture of a frog chasing a snake
chasing a gecko that was the basis of a
fun story we made up.

I have been using a number of picture books to learn how to tell stories. The first time I gave the book to someone and asked them to tell a story, but they quickly got stuck. The next time I stumbled my way through the book, being corrected every second word, then asked them to tell the story. Most people would tell the story very much how I told it. Only one or two people would add their own colour to the tale. I wonder if this reflects a culture which values being able to remember and retell traditional tales more than it does being able to create new ones.

Pictures are a wonderful tool for language learning, but they still require common assumptions for the learning process to work.

Village English

In the area of Papua New Guinea that was the British and then Australian ‘Territory of Papua’, English is mostly used as a language of wider communication (LWC). Tok Pisin was the main LWC in the Territory of New Guinea and is slowly gaining in use in the Papuan area. Hiri Motu is also a traditional LWC in my area, although it is being used less often these days.

English as the LWC can be deceptive though, as ESL (English as your sixth language) English is different to mother tongue English. I cannot think ‘Oh, people here know English, I can just speak as normal’, or they will not understand much of what I say.

 Is that when the kid behind you in class cuts
your hair when you’re not looking?!

Village English is slower, simpler, and uses few idioms or passive clauses. Changing my natural way of speaking, to another dialect of my own language, can be quite challenging at times. It can also be quite amusing, as village English has developed in different ways to the English I am most familiar with, and the contrasts can be amusing and confusing.

‘Already’ in used liberally as a marker of an event that has been completed (perfective aspect). Although this is similar to how I grew up using the word, it is used with noticeable frequency in village English. What I am learning from this is when to use the equivalent structure (‘tauo ….VERB ROOT ….maka’) in Kope. How people use English reflects their own language, so can be helpful in learning language.

‘Maybe’ is used to mark uncertainty (irrealis mode) and is a very handy word. It is a helpful way of expressing possibilities without being committed. I’m still working out how to say the same in Kope though.

 What if I have two?

There are the words that are fossilised from another era of English, the era when Australian and British teachers ran the school system. I always smile when told to look out for ‘faeces’ on the path, or that the canoe has pulled over to the riverbank so that someone can go behind a bush to ‘pass urine’. These are legitimate English expressions, just not the ones I’d normally use.

Many people have expressed a desire for more overseas teachers to help train and improve the education system here, a return to the days when they learnt to say ‘faeces’. I agreed the day I asked a grade eight after his English exam how the exam went, and he stared at me blankly. I guessed from that response that he did not do very well, an assumption justified when he later failed to pass grade eight. Considering English has been the language of instruction for him at school, it saddened me that he still struggled with it so much.

There are surprising uses of words in village English, where at first I take the wrong meaning. I thought someone in a story was being executed, when in fact they were executing (carrying out) some action or other. There are other things I wish I had written down, but it was not appropriate to do so at the time.

 Defenestration Prohibited.
I like the literal description of a door for the wind to enter by.

One word that I am often unsure of is what it means to ‘beat’ something. In my English I have a range of words to express the intensity with which I hit something, from a smack all the way to a beating. To me, beating something is a violent, damaging act, but I think in village English that it is often used the cover the whole range of intensities of hitting. What does it mean then, when a woman says her husband ‘beat’ her, or when she then says her child ‘beat’ her. Having seen the toddler smack her in anger, I know what she means, but I did not see what the husband did, and neither do I see any bruises. How I am supposed to take it when people say that the police arrested someone and gave him a ‘good and proper beating’? Is this as intense as it sounds? What do I make of the fact the speaker is satisfied that the police did this, that they are expressing it as the appropriate course for justice to take? They are using English, but the meaning can be quite different.

 Beauty, just ‘cause.

Another challenge can be written English, where the dreadful non-phonetic nature of our spelling can lead to interesting interpretations by those used to more logical spelling systems. When the programme for an event list ‘reborn cut’ I was imaging some strange baptism-meets-circumcision ceremony. Thankfully when someone else read the programme aloud, I discovered it was a ribbon that was to be cut.

Using English to communicate while I am in the process of learning Kope is extremely helpful, but it is both challenging and amusing. I need to keep slowing my speech down and simplifying how I say things. I am someone who plays scrabble and does cryptic crosswords for entertainment, so playing with words comes naturally to me, while making them simple is hard work.

Home Moments

On returning to the village, there were a number of moments which showed to me that this place in increasingly another home to me.

First were the familiarity of faces and the warmness of welcome. These are now people I know and have a relationship with. We were genuinely pleased to see each other, with lots of hugs and strong handshakes. There were even some hugs from the men! There were also some familiar faces who were absent, but not missed. A place is home when you have been there long enough to have some people rub you the wrong way as well as to form friendships. The nicest welcome was that some of the children smiled at me, rather than being scared yet again.

Kake cat, who unfortunately died recently (H.Schulz)

My neighbours’ cat gave me a very smoochy welcome back, although when he brought me a dead rat to show his affection I was less pleased. I was pleased about one less rat in the world, but not pleased to hear him crunching it in my living area. He was a bit upset that I swept him out the door to eat on the veranda.

I know I am becoming a local when I know my way around the village and am able to wander around at will. When I walked between this village and the next, I was only escorted back as far as the edge of the village, they trusted me to find my way home from there.

Hanging out in the afternoon (H.Schulz)

Being able to just hang out with people is a homely thing too. Between visits, a shelter was built between the river and the open space where volleyball is often played. I often head down there in the afternoon and sit with the women awhile. All the while my phone downloads emails. I do not have to tell stories or make a show, I can just sit and be with them. I cannot join the conversation yet, but we can watch volleyball together and enjoy each other’s company. Slowly I am recognising more faces and connecting families together.

Although I can’t follow the conversation, I am encouraged by the scraps I do understand. Kope has gone from being a long string of sounds to having distinct words to my ears. Often I find myself thinking ‘I know those words!’ By the time I’ve repeated them to myself and worked out their meaning, the conversation has moved on, but I am still encouraged by the pieces I do recognise. To not be overwhelmed all the time, but to have points of recognition, goes a long way to making this place home.

My village garden, with its enthusiastic
 snake bean plants. (H.Schulz)

A final piece of belonging is being able to share veggies from my gardens. When I flew down I brought a box of passionfruit and a container of cherry guavas, picked from my highlands garden. People were very happy to try these fruits that were new to most of them. Meanwhile, my swamp garden was flourishing, provided beans to eat and making my house look like home.

While the language is still hard work and the culture often confronting, it is encouraging to have these moments of belonging.

Language Learning Moments

 Mo gega ka. I am big, compared to locals,
I just wish they wouldn’t always highlight the fact
(D.Petterson)

Language learning is a never ending process, but in these beginning stages there are some moments that leave me somewhere between a smile and a grimace. Usually it is because I have become familiar with common phrases.

Early in my last village stay I realised I was recognising everything the person behind me was saying “Oobo gega ka. Bogobogo gega ka. Merebehe gega ka.” …but I wished I couldn’t … “The woman is fat. The whiteskin is fat. The lady is fat.” I know they were commenting, not judging, but coming from a western culture in which ‘big/fat’ is so often equated with ‘bad/lazy’, it is hard to hear it as just a description.

Another series of words I recognise but wish I didn’t hear so much was the parents in the house across the path telling off their children. “Piroha!” “Be quiet!’ “Hepui eito!”... which is literally “Go to ground!” In context is not telling people to go into hiding, but to get out of the house by going down the ladder onto the ground.

A word I hear directed at me is “Ahu!”, “Be strong!” In context, they are telling me not to fall in the mud, off the log bridge, or roll the canoe.

 My neighbours, they look far away,
but I can often hear them (H.Schulz)

Recognition of the word “bogobogo” always makes me wonder what people are talking about, as I am the only bogobogo, or whiteskin, in the village. I recognise the reference to me, but not the content of the conversation. One day I’ll understand.

If it is not common phrases causing me to be caught between a smile and a grimace, it is non-recognition of words I knew a minute earlier. As I slowly learn, I am able to use words in context. If the context changes and the same word occurs, I can find myself knowing I should know the word, but not knowing what it means. This is most frustrating.

Then there are the moments when I do manage to put an idea into words, or understand what someone has said to me, and there is a moment of victory. I look forward to the day when comprehension is more normal and confusion saved for new events, rather than every event.

Daily Downtime

After detailing the exhausting work of language learning, it seems appropriate to let you know one of the ways in which I practice self care and attempt to prevent burn out. Language learning is exhausting, village life is tiring, being on show is frustrating and looking after myself is necessary. One of the primary ways I do this is by having my daily downtime, or afternoon nap.

Each day at lunchtime I retreat to my room for a simple lunch of crackers and spreads. Mostly this is peanut paste and jam, but I also take with a jar of nutella to have one chocolaty cracker per day. It’s amazing what a daily chocolate dose can do for my morale, and so far the ants have not yet broken into my sacred stash. There may well be tears if they ever do.

Noticing moments of beauty and enjoying them renews me.

After lunch I lie down on my bed to relax. I spend much of each day sitting on the floor, and a middle of the day back stretch and relax is mighty helpful. Sometimes I fall asleep, but mostly not. I put my earphones in, turn my music on, shut my eyes and tune out the village for a little while. My mosquito net is my fortress and for an hour or two I am somewhat removed from the stresses around me.

Often I listen to worship music on my phone. Hearing favourite songs with Godly words reminds me of why I am in the swamp in the first place. I am not here for credit or riches, but because I feel called to serve and answer a need. Listening to worship music also reminds me that God is much bigger than my problems, fears and stresses, and to hand them all back rather than worrying myself. This afternoon quiet time is a good time for prayer.

Feeling watched? A crowd waving us off from Teredau.

I pray a lot more in the village than elsewhere. God is the only one I can honestly tell exactly what I am thinking without causing offence. God is also the only one able to solve the challenges of village life. All my other communication in a day is limited by cultural and language barriers. Prayer has no such barriers.

Sometimes I use my down time to write letters, write in my journal or to do puzzle books. I have a mix of crosswords, cryptic crosswords, number puzzles and word puzzles. For someone who is claiming brain exhaustion, puzzling may seem an odd way to relax. What is does is gives me something to puzzle over that I am competent at and restores my confidence that I am indeed an intelligent adult who is able to solve problems. Language learning can be disillusioning, so this sort of encouragement goes a long way.

My sanctuary.

Retreating in the middle of each day allows me to introvert. For me, relationships take energy while time alone renews my energy. Village relationships take lots of energy, as I am still learning how to relate well in the culture around me. I am trying to learn a new set of social cues and this takes focus. I am often confused and this drains me. Even with my daily village introversion time, I still return to Ukarumpa and act like a hermit for a week or two before I’ve really recovered. 

Rest, retreat, music, prayer, puzzles and chocolate. These are the main elements of my daily downtime and how I try to manage my energy levels in the village. Learning how to live well in the village is a work in progress, but this is one step in the right direction.

Language Learning Challenges

There are many challenges when it comes to learning another language.

One is that people want to teach your the right and proper way to say things. This can mean long and confusing discussion of what is best to say before I am given a response. It can also mean that I am being taught archaic terms rather than the everyday terms adopted from another language. On numerous occasions I’ve been told, ‘That’s the Motu word, you need to say X’ with the ‘X’ being a word they had to think hard to find as no-one actually uses it in everyday speech. Learning what is Motu is good, as I intend to learn Motu eventually, but knowing what is every day is more useful, as I want to hold everyday conversations.

As English words often slip into Kope conversation, I have occasionally surprised people by understanding more than they expected. When days of the week and place names are mentioned, I can sometimes guess what the plan is without understanding the Kope words that hold it all together. This is not suddenly fluency, just me practicing the detective skills that are a constant part of language learning and analysis.

Dialect differences are a challenge. In both Ubuo and Goiravi, people want me to learn their variety of Kope. These two villages are a 15 minute walk apart, yet they have differences and they are proud of them. This is rather confusing to a beginning learner, so I have been respecting their difference by keeping a list of dialect differences and writing down what they tell me. How we’ll deal with these things when it comes to a written translation is a challenge for another day.

A view along the Mira River from Goiravi, a 15 minute walk
from Ubuo, but already there are dialect differences.

Another challenge is getting people to let me make mistakes and learn slowly. When I try to communicate using my limited understanding, I inevitably end up being corrected with the right way to say things. This can be disillusioning when I just want to try saying something. While it is good to learn correct grammar, just being able to stumble along and communicate without a lecture would also be nice sometimes.

In their enthusiasm to help me learn, I often find myself overwhelmed by the tutoring  I am given at short notice. I will use a phrase that I have learnt, get it right and have it in context, but just as I’m feeling good about having communicated, someone will tell me five others ways I could say the same thing. Just let me learn the simple way first!

One challenge that I come across constantly is that if I have correctly parroted a phrase, or written it down, people consider it permanently learnt. Parroting and writing does not equal completely remembered and able to be heard and used, but people expect that it does. If they know I wrote it down last week, they expect me to remember it this week. Sometimes that is true, but often it is not.

I was given a word list, which meant I was expected

to know and be able to use all the words on it!

Tone is challenging for me, as my ears are still getting tuned to hear it, and it does not seem to be used consistently. I need to both learn to hear and replicate the tone and learn when it matters and when it doesn’t. I am thankful for my recording, that I can listen to and echo, as well as other linguists who take an interest in Kope tone. I’ll happily let them do the tricky analysis and then apply it to my learning.

Finally there are the homonyms, or near homonyms, that confuse the beginning learner. Some of my confusions so far are:

• Mo daradara ka and Mo darudaru ka; The first means I am confused, the second that I am yellow.
• dubui and dubai;  Men or bananas… it pays to know which one you are eating!
• ididi and idi’idi;  Build or black. The cat is black, the cat is not built, nor is it building anything.
• rio-i, rio or ri’o; inside, want or you (plural).  Usually context gives away which one is which, but they’re all common words and they keep me alert.

…and one tongue twister I discovered by accident…

• Ooboi oboboboi da oboi i’ai;  The woman is fetching water from the well. A common occurance in the village and a useful phrase to know, just really hard to say!

Oboboboi ka. A well.

Language Learning Techniques

At this stage in my translation project, my primary goal is language learning. I am blessed to step into a programme where others have gone before me. There are many simple books for teaching children literacy, a picture dictionary, the makings of a longer dictionary and some grammar notes. All of these are invaluable resources that help me to learn, but the bulk of my learning is through immersion. 

The river at Ubuo

There are techniques to help with language learning immersion which I learnt before coming to PNG. I admit to not knowing which teaching philosophies I have picked and chosen from,  I just do what works for me.

When I am in the village, I try to sit down with a local lady five days a week for some structured language learning time. I come prepared with my sketch of a lesson plan outlining the sorts of activities I would like to do and resources to help with this. My resources are generally hand drawn pictures, prompts that enable me to ask questions and elicit responses. Asking ‘How do you say…’ tends to get formulaic responses. Learning key phrases and then using them as I point at my pictures, elicits more natural responses.

As I advance with learning, the questions I can ask and the responses I get will become more complex. At the very beginning, I just had a series of noun pictures, and would get my language assistant to say the name of one and I would point at it. Not very complex, but good practice in hearing and responding. Slowly I added instructions such as ‘pick up’, ‘put down’ and ‘give’, progressing to ‘put in’, ‘put on’ or ‘put under’. As I collect vocabulary, I’ve been making flash cards for myself, to help with the memorisation of new words.

My village picture I use for eliciting words and phrases

In each language learning session I also record things that I have been learning. People get sick of saying the same thing over and over again. My voice recorder does not get bored of repeating itself, allowing me to learn more quickly. This also allows me to bring the recordings back to Ukarumpa with me, where I transcribe them and keep my learning going. As I listen to them in the Highlands, the backing vocals of roosters, children, hammers, kittens, dogs, the school bell and grumbly stomachs reminds me that these really are field recordings, not something polished.

As I progress with my learning, I have been both writing and recording stories. My story writing is very simple at the moment, but it forces me to put together the words and grammar I do know in new ways. I also learn new words when I hit a block in expressing myself and ask for help. When I record stories, I later in the day sit and attempt to transcribe them. In doing so, I am teaching myself to hear word breaks, recognise the changes required by grammar, and learning entirely new words and phrases.

Once a week, if rain or tide have not made the path impassable, I walk 15 minutes to the next village, Goiravi, to learn from the ladies there. Each time I’ve been to Goiravi, a crowd of 10 to 20 women has shown up to help. Learning from that many teachers is nearly impossible! I keep going though, as I have been getting to know a few of the ladies better and they’re great teachers. It is also a good relational exercise, as I make the village feel like they are part of the programme too. Most weeks I think the benefit of my trip is more relational than linguistic, but that is a valid reason to keep going.

Verandah view when language learning in Goiravi

Learning a language by immersion is plain old hard work. I end each day with a tired head of constant listening, decoding and confusion. As I try to communicate anew each day I keep telling myself that I only have to learn the language once and that this level of difficulty will pass. I just hope it passes sooner rather than later!

Toddlerdom

Learning a new language through immersion is like returning to toddlerhood. The world around you no longer fully makes sense. People do strange and inexplicable things. People look at you intently and say a string of sounds which have little meaning and you don’t know how to respond. People laugh because you did something funny, but you’re not sure what it was. It is exhausting! Naps are a great idea to recover enough energy for the next round of learning and I understand why toddlers have tantrums out of sheer frustration.

I am thankful that as I learn Kope, I do have training  and some aids. During  my year at linguistics school I studied methods and techniques to help with language acquisition. As a linguist worked in this area in the 1980s and Robbie has worked there more recently, I have some papers and books I can refer to. There is the draft of a small dictionary. There is a children’s picture dictionary. There is a grammar of a closely related language. There are some children’s story books. Each of these is a wonderful resource for me to refer to for new words, confirming the meaning of words and for learning phrases in context. There is no ‘How to learn Kope’ book, but these other books are invaluable helps.

Another language learning help is that I share the house with a toddler. Although he comprehends more Kope than I do, and will become fluent sooner than I will, he helps me out. Because of Small Boy I have learnt the words for ‘Be quiet!’, ‘Enough!’ ‘Put it down!’ and other such phrases. His default method of communication when he has no words, crying, is one method I have chosen to bypass.

Although toddlers start their language development with a lot of ‘I want…’ I have started with stating the obvious. ‘I am cold’.’ ‘I am hot.’ ‘ The woman is tall.’ ‘The man is strong.’ Stative clauses are easy enough.  Well, except for the day I said ‘Mo darudaru ka’ instead of ‘Mo daradara ka,’ so declaring that I was yellow, rather than that I was confused.

Adding verbs is when it gets complex, but even then I am stating the obvious. ‘I am going to the toilet.’ ‘I am going to the house.’ Still, if I can learn to make verbs work for me with obvious statements, I should eventually be able to make complex statements and string my clauses together into some sort of story or argument.

Another area of village life in which the toddler outstrips me is in balance and stability. He has grown up with canoes and mud, so knows how to sit and walk so that he does not fall over. I am still learning. Miraculously, in the first six weeks I have only had one slip, the bigger miracle being that no one else saw it happen. I also weigh a whole lot more than a toddler, and more than most village folk, so I am the one who will find every weak plank in a house or a walkway. Breaking people’s houses is rather embarrassing, for both parties. I am learning to assess strength of planks before I step and to pace my steps for the parts with a beam underneath. Meanwhile, the toddler skips about the house and other adults walk in straight lines.

So it is that I have returned to being an adult sized toddler. Some days I have to remind myself that this is a stage, that it will pass, and pass sooner the more I focus on language learning. In a country where the white people are generally seen as the experts and the teachers, it is good for me to be the incompetent one and the learner. I have been learning a lot about humility as well as about language!

At the moment the toddler in the house knows more language than me, but my goal is eventually to be able to speak with Old Lady (really, that is what people call her in language). As she has few teeth, no English, talks quickly and laughs at her own jokes, I have set my sights high.

PS I am writing these blog posts with limited internet access and scheduling them for the coming weeks. Photos will be added later when better internet is available, although as Small Boy does not like to wear pants, and those sort of photos are all kinds of trouble, there may still be no photos of my toddle sized language helper.