Tigak Hymns II

Last year Catherine and I were able to help Miskum format a hymn book  in his language, Tigak. This year we were able to hear the hymns in action as we attended a day of hymn singing and recording. The book has not yet been printed, but the copies of the draft are numerous and the anticipation is great.

Welcome song and dance (H.Schulz)

The location of the hymn fest was Kaut village on the west coast of New Ireland. In the morning we travelled out there in a dual cab ute. As we were too many to fit in the cab, Susie and I rode in the back. Two white women sitting in the tray of a vehicle… we attracted plenty of attention and waved to as many strangers as a royal must wave to! We travelled south from Kavieng enjoying the ocean views along the coast, experienced a brief cool change as we crossed the mountain ridge that forms the spine of New Ireland, passed the new phone tower and bumped along a muddy road to Kaut.

Rain tree (S.Pederson)

After arriving, we waited until the welcome party was ready, then walked a decorated walkway to the singing of a choir, were giving a welcome wreath of flowers… or tinsel… and took our seat on the stage built specifically for the day. After the official opening of the day was over, we could move off the stage to the sit in the shade of an enormous rain tree. With white coral sand under our feet, a backdrop of clear blue water and a soundtrack of heartfelt praise it was the sort of setting tourist brochures are made of.

Choir and conductor in action (R.Drew)

During the day the choirs from different congregations presented their songs. Each choir was in a matching uniform and sang with passion. The conductor would change between songs, but each one had some form of stick to use as a baton. Conducting styles varied enormously, occasionally making my musically trained colleague twitch at the randomness of the swinging stick in relation to the music. As I was not having to sing to the beat of the stick, I could just enjoy the passion and attitude with which it was wielded.

Stephen spent the day recording the songs. A generator was running in the distance, with a long enough extension cord that the noise did not interfere with the recording. The miracle of the day was that not a single rooster was seen or heard. They are the bane of village recording and had somehow been banished. Once Stephen has edited the tracks he recorded, he will return them to the community on CDs and SD cards.

(R.Drew)

The highlight of the day for me was the drama representing the coming of the gospel to the Islands region over 100 years ago. One group was in a dinghy, singing hymns as (so the story goes) George Brown and his party did on arrival. On the beach was a gathering crowd of people dressed to look like they were wild bush people, threatening the boat load with their spears. As the singers came closer to the shore the wild people grew still and quiet. The boat came closer and the wild ones took a step back. The boat emptied onto the shore, the people still singing, and the wild group stepped back again. They then stood still, listening. One by one their spears dropped to the sand as they stopped their fighting and welcomed these new people with their new song and their new message.

Fallen spears (R.Drew)

The drama was completely in the local language, but the meaning was clear; the gospel in song had brought new life and peace. With this as the history they re-enact, it is no wonder hymns play such a big role in the life of the local church. 

Beacons of light

Here is another story from my sailing time to help illustrate why I think Bible translation is important.

In 2006 I joined the Sail Training International festival, which concluded in Antwerp, Belgium. I was on the Danish ketch Jens Krogh at the time. I’d had a lovely time and as they all spoke such good English, I had not bothered the learn Danish. Once or twice, this caused some challenges, as when the captain felt under pressure, he would no longer use English.

One time there was a meeting on deck. I was warned it would be in Danish, so was given the helm and left steering the ship while everyone else gathered a bit further away. When the rest of my watch (my team) returned to me, they apologised for not being able to tell me what the meeting was about, except very vaguely. The captain had been so fired up that even as native Danish speakers, they could not follow what he had said. I promptly told them what the three things were that he had said, not because I knew Danish, but because I knew ships. I had seen him pointing at the rigging and could guess the reason. There was also something that had happened earlier in the day that I expected he would have addressed. I no longer recall the other thing.

The other time was when we arrived in Antwerp. It was the early hours of the morning and I was on the helm as we navigated our way through one of the busiest ports in the world. Thankfully at that hour it is pretty quiet, as the captain once again forgot that I don’t speak Danish. The previous time I had been okay because I had spoken ship, this time I knew how to speak navigational markers. All those red and green lights in harbours have meaning, a meaning I could read and safely navigate by. Occasionally I would confirm my reading with someone who had heard the Danish instructions, but generally I could find my way and so kept us all safe. Once we got to the locks and small channels, I handed the helm over to a Danish speaker, as understanding the captain was more important at that point.

In both these scenarios, I could understand and keep safe because I had the comprehension skills for the situation. For me, Bible translation is about putting the Word that gives life into a form which people can comprehend. They can then use this to navigate through the complexities of life.

On a beach in Australia I found the remains of a boat within sight of a lighthouse. The lighthouse was there to provide safe navigation, but for whatever reason, this boat had still ended up as a wreck. Bible translation helps people to know light and through it to find safety. Having the Bible in another language of which you have a limited understanding, or having a limited understanding in your own language so easily ends up as a shipwreck in sight of safety. Giving people the navigational skills helps to bring them safely home.

(I do not have photos from sailing on Jens Krogh with me in PNG, but here  they are on the flickr page that I no longer update)

Humbled… again

I may come away from my trips to villages having achieved a list of things, but I have also been enormously blessed by the people I have been with. Time and time again I am humbled by their generosity and their servant hearts. Here are some stories from our recent trip…and yes, the mud continues to feature in stories, as it featured in our journey!

Lunch: We had said we would come to lunch, but along the slow and muddy walk to the house of another expat couple, we were wondering if it was really worth it. When we arrived, we were blessed with soft chairs, fresh lemonade, a flush toilet and the offer of a shower and a towel. After recent outhouse adventures, this toilet in particular really was a blessing! We ate a wonderful cooked-just-for-us lunch and were able to catch our breath and revive our spirits before continuing on our way. The muddy walk was definitely worth it!

 About to leave with our chickens (Photo S.Pederson)

Chickens: As we left Aimei village, the children were busy chasing chickens... so that they could give us one each! It was a very generous gift for which we could not express our thanks sufficiently. We were also given a basket to put our chickens in, as they were about to face several hours of dinghy travel to their new home.

Crabs: We could have had fresh crab for breakfast, lunch and dinner, except that we asked nicely to only eat them once a day. I was humbled by the gentle tutelage of Joel, our dinghy driver, as he taught me how to use a spoon to break into a crab to get the good parts for eating.

(Photo D.Petterson)

Foot washing: With mud everywhere, we washed our feet several times a day, before we entered any sort of building. One time, I actually had my feet washed for me, as a generous lady poured water over my feet and scrubbed the above-ankle mud off with her hands. Such hospitality!

Welcome: When we arrived at Ubuo village, the tide was in. The school kids were gathered on the riverbank singing us a welcome song and showered us with flowers. We stepped straight onto the river bank and shook about a hundred hands as we were guided along a decorated walkway to the house where we were staying. All our cargo was carried to the house for us. As we ate food prepared for us, all the kids crammed into the house and continued to sing to us. We were the VIP guests and we were serenaded beautifully.

The hand rail and descent to the boat (Photo D.Petterson)

Hand rail: When we left Ubuo village, the tide was out. A single log reached down the muddy bank to the dinghy. As we looked at the log with trepidation, the community built us a hand rail and used an axe to hack some steps into the log for us. They then held our hands as we cautiously descended to the boat. Local kids and grannies can scamper up and down the log unassisted, but they generously added a hand rail and many hands to keep us safe. 

Radar Brightness

  In our navigation space, with radar
and chart plotter on the screen behind
me (Photo B.Kuchel)

Why Bible translation? Why not just teach people to read in English?

These are questions I and my colleagues regularly encounter and this is a story I hope helps illuminate the reason for our work.

Before I came to PNG I worked at sea on traditional sailing vessels. For all our love of the traditional skills and ways, we were also equipped with modern navigational equipment. This included a radar that was interfaced with the GPS and the chatter plotter so that all the information was conveniently on one screen.

When I was first mate I would come on watch at 4am each day. I would have the radar screen set to its dimmest level so that I could read it without ruining my night vision. The dimness of the screen in the cabin allowed me to see more in the darkness around me on deck. Even at its dimmest I could read the screen from several metres away.

Around dawn the effect of the rising sun warming the air creates changes in wind speed and direction. On a sailing ship, this also creates plenty of work for everyone. As the day lightened, I would be busy on deck managing sail changes and so forth. When I next went into the cabin I would find I could not read the radar screen at all. The brightness of the day compared to the darkness of the screen left it useless for navigation. With the touch of a button or two I would have it back shining at a level I could use to keep us all safe.

Compass and sunrise

To me this is what Bible translation is about. When people first come to know God’s love and forgiveness through Jesus, they are living in darkness and the smallest spark of truth is light enough to guide them. Like a dim screen at night, it is enough to show the way. In fact, greater knowledge at that point would probably be overwhelming. Yet to remain mostly in the dark, with just a small amount of light, is not enough. As people come to live their faith, to live in the light, they need more knowledge of God to navigate by. Bible translation gives them a tool to navigate life. It makes the road map accessible for everyday use and puts it in local hands, rather than in the hands of an outsider or an expert. Teaching them English may be helpful for many things, but it rarely fully illuminates the heart. Translation into heart languages turns the radar screen up to be useful to people who want to live in the light.

Shifting Coastlines

 The Kivaumai beach that used to be inland of the village.

As we travelled about Gulf Province by dinghy, I heard stories of the changes in the land and water around them. Much of what I heard I could confirm from my own observations.

At Maipenairu village, we were told that they had moved there a few generations ago and that it had been the beach. Now the beach was a kilometre or so away, beyond more rivers and islands. At night you could sometimes hear the breakers on the beach, but it was not within easy access. The growth of land in this area was put down to soil coming down the river from the Highlands.

At Kivaumai village, we were told that the village had moved inland some generations ago, because the ocean had reclaimed the land where it was before. Some sticks in the water indicated where the village had been. Once again the village is thinking about moving inland, as the ocean continues to invade.

While we were in the area, we experienced unusually high tides. People told us that high tides have been happening for generations, but not with such frequency or severity. The water would come into the village maybe once or twice a year and never so deeply. For three days we saw the water flood the entire village twice a day.

 Exposed roots show where the recent high tide
 pushed the beach towards the village yet again.

The truth of what we were told was confirmed by the loss of gardens and walkways. People in these areas know what the usual tide range is, so build their gardens out of reach of the salty and destructive water. For their gardens to be inundated indicated that the tides were not behaving within the normal range. Similarly, walkways which had been in use for some time and had been built to be above the range of the tide were being damaged by the higher-than-high tides.

We heard stories of people learning to adapt to the new normal, of finding new ways to plant mini gardens on every high point they could find. Still, I cannot help but wonder how rising sea levels will effect these people in the long term. The ground of their villages is not far above sea level and will easily go under. Where then do they go when their gardens and their land is taken from them?

Dictionary Dangers

For a long time I have had a love affair with dictionaries. I can sit and read them, wandering from familiar words with unexpected origins to words I’m yet to find a use for. That my e-reader came with a free dictionary was one of its more exciting features, as my own had been too heavy to ship overseas with me. As a family we bought a new dictionary for my parents at their 40^th wedding anniversary, as it is a requirement for games of scrabble. Dictionaries are good.

Dictionaries are also difficult and dangerous.

 A good source of knowledge for old words.

As part of my work as a linguist, data I collect in the form of stories or translations ends up collecting towards an eventual dictionary. Keeping all this data in order, labelling it and giving meanings in one, two or three languages is a challenge. We have computer programmes to help, courses to teach us and consultants to help us, but it is still hard work…and that is even before you start to think about formatting and printing!

While in Gulf Province, Robbie was working with one community to review the dictionary progress so far. He had a long list of words and meanings to go through, to see if people agreed on what was there. Before he even got to his session, the draft copy was being waved about as part of a spelling dispute; “But the dictionary spells it this way!” We suggested that both spelling alternatives could be included, with a note that one was from a particular village, or more common of a particular sub-group.

When we put words in a dictionary, we can end up pinning them down like butterflies in a case. Language is a dynamic thing, that changes between villages and generations. Words and ways of speaking come in and out of use on a regular basis. It is good to record these words, but also to make space for the new. As great as dictionaries are, they are also dangerous.