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.

Above Reproach

Social networking and facebook are simply the current model of what people have always done: present themselves to the people around them, watch what others are doing and make judgements based on what they see and hear. The speed of news in the village leaves the internet for dead at times. Although what the truth is underlying the story that is told can be equally mysterious in both places.

In this context, of both high speed village news and an online presence, I find myself juggling the concepts of doing what is right, being seen to do what is right, and living in the freedom of the Gospel. Let me give you some examples

Gossip is destructive, and once a story is out it takes on a life of its own and cannot be brought back under control. As a single woman, it is easy for gossip to spread about what man I was seen with and what we were doing. As my translation team is made up of men, I am often left juggling social situations to make sure that we are seen to be above reproach. When I need to talk with my village brother, we do so in the yard, not on the enclosed veranda. If we need to work on the veranda on the computer, his wife or his children normally come with, to keep everything above board. If a man needs his phone charged, he will send it to me with his children. If he comes himself, kids will always come with him. All of this social engineering is to make sure that rumours cannot be spread, as there was a group present, not a secret meeting of two people.

It is not just in the village that I juggle these things, as Ukarumpa has been called Uka-rumour with good reason. One time a single guy came to visit while my yad meri (gardener) was working outside. We sat in the lounge by the big glass windows, where she very obviously kept an eye on us to make sure nothing happened. Had she not seen enough to keep her happy, valley rumour would have had us ‘married’ by nightfall. Another time a colleague came to help fix something in my house, and his wife came with, to make sure no-one could spread rumours. It was not that she didn’t trust me or her husband, but that she did trust the speed at which rumours can develop and damage can be done.

The social management involved with being a single woman is not the only area in which I find myself making sure I am seen to do what is right. Alcohol is another area. At home in Australia I like a glass of wine with friends. In PNG I very rarely drink. At home social drinking is normal. Here drinking is associated with drunkenness and is not Christian. I agree that drunkenness is not the life Christ calls us to, but I do miss a quiet drink with friends.

The challenge of being seen to right, as well as doing right, is not just my challenge. I have reminded my village brother, who was the voice of Jesus in the Jesus film of this a few times. If he does things that people see as immoral, they will no longer trust the film or the story of Jesus. For all Christians, it is a challenge to proclaim Christ with our action as well as our words, but for him, this is doubly true.

All of this social engineering seems very restrictive at times, especially when I consider myself free from the law to live a life of grace. Putting on what can feel like act to show others that I am doing the right thing, when the fruit of the Spirit is self control and I should be trusted to do the right thing, regardless of appearances, is frustrating. Still, I need to balance doing right and being seen to do right. I also need to balance the living in the freedom of the gospel with the knowledge that people will make their own judgements of their actions and base future decisions on this.

 River view from Ubuo.

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.

What’s mine is yours…

The rain returned eventually, with the 

sweet sound of it pouring into my tank. (H.Schulz)

A constant struggle for me when living in the village is the different cultural expectations of ownership and stewardship. What belongs to me and what belongs to the group? What is to be used now and what is to be saved for later?

I have a wonderful neighbour and village brother who built my house, looks after it while I am away and is one of our translators. He recently named his newborn daughter after me. I am sure that I have some sort of responsibilities for my namesake, but have no idea what they might be. He himself is a generous person who often has other people living with him in his small house and who is often doing things for other people. It is this particular relationship, with its web of obligations that is the hardest for me to navigate.

What makes it even harder is that it is often the small things that leave me in a crisis, such as an umbrella or a bottle of water.

My umbrella was left in my storeroom when I went away. It was about the only thing not packed in a box because it was too long. When I returned, it was the only thing that had gone walkabout. It had been borrowed to give shade to my namesake while they went to fish camp. When they returned, I saw the umbrella in use, but it didn’t return to me. A week later, when I was walking somewhere in the middle of the day and needed it for shade, I asked about it. It was brought out of the house, broken and barely held together with string. It gave me the shade I needed, but it is useless as shelter from tropical downpours.

Why was I so upset about an umbrella? It was that my trust of things left in storage had been broken, that something I needed was not there when I needed it. My neighbour though, saw it as an appropriate use of an item doing nothing to meet a need for my namesake. My tension is that I can understand his reasoning, but still wish it had been left alone and was in one piece when I returned.

Another day I found myself annoyed at a request for a few litres of drinking water, and even more annoyed at myself for being annoyed.

At the time it was dry season. As this was first time in the village in January, it was hard to tell if it is a drier than usual dry season, but it seemed to be that way. Each morning and each afternoon there was a parade of people going along the path by my house to get drinking water from a bush well. The round trip seems to take them about 45 minutes. Meanwhile, my house has two 1000L rainwater tanks.

Before I came to the village, my neighbour had called asking for permission to clean out one of my tanks. We did not communicate clearly, and I thought that rain was falling more often to refill the tanks, so I said yes, as long as you leave me at least half a tank (500L). When I got to the village I found out that there has been little rain, so the tank was not refilling, but that everyone had very much enjoyed getting a container of water from my tank when it was cleaned, as well as from half of the second tank. I was left the half a tank as requested. This probably saved the village one day of walking into the bush for drinking water, maybe two.

My umbrella two years ago when it was new. (D.Petterson)

When I returned, my neighbour turned up asking for drinking water in bottles, and I was annoyed. Why?! I did not make the rain fall, I just caught it. I did not earn it, yet I was reluctant to share it. Part of it was knowing that half a tank will not go far if I’m providing water for a house of six or more people next door. Part of it was knowing that if my water runs out, someone else will be the one walking into the bush to get water for me. Part of it was just cultural annoyance that ‘my’ water should be assumed to be ‘their’ water from a different cultural perspective. A lot of it was annoyance at myself for being a scrooge about water, an essential ingredient for life.

My first week in the village, I was cautious with my tank, but still used it for washing etc, thinking rain would continue to fall like it had the day after I arrived. By week two we’d had little rain, my tank was much lower and I switched to washing with well water and only using my tank for drinking. I still had occasional requests for water, which I would help with, but was not getting regular requests. This seemed like a good balance for me.

Still, the question of what is mine, what I am keeping for later, what is communal, and what I am sharing with others, is an ongoing struggle. Coming from somewhere very individualistic when it comes to possessions, I am having many of my assumptions challenged, which is a good but difficult process.

Hospitality and Independence

I was sitting by the rain water tank washing my clothes when a well meaning woman came up and told me that I should give them to her to wash for me. I’m not sure if she thought I was not doing a good enough job (I certainly don’t scrub as much as locals do), that the work was somehow beneath me or she was just being helpful, but my answer was a polite no. This is but one example of the times I’ve found myself seeking a balance between local hospitality and being independent.

I don’t really enjoy hand washing, but neither do I want to hand over everything for other people to do for me. When do I let someone to help me and when do I hold on to my independence and do it myself?

Another time I was walking through a muddy village and a lady insisted on holding me by the elbow the whole way. It is true that I may have slipped if she wasn’t there, but the chance was small. I felt that slipping over, although embarrassing and messy, was not the biggest deal, but to my friend it would have been a slight on her care for me. If I fell over, she would have been seen as a poor host. Recognising this, I let her guide me by the elbow, keeping her dignity intact, even if mine was a bit bruised by what felt like babying.

There are many things where I am glad that I can ask for help and that people are willing to help me. Drawing water from a well is something I’m yet to try, as I’m worried I’ll fall in. It is also something people are unwilling to let me try, as they have the same concern. They’d much rather draw water for me, than let me take that risk. This situation is a win for both of us.

I have enough trouble sitting in a small canoe,

let alone standing!

Being allowed to go out in a small canoe has been a contentious issue. Children here grow up in canoes, and many are in fact literally born in a canoe, as they did not get to the hospital in time. Their sense of balance is trained from birth and they are unlikely to tip the canoe. On the other hand, I have little experience with small round bottomed dugouts and am a liability to anyone else in the canoe. Often they are too small for me to sit right down in, so I have to crouch, making me less stable and raising my centre of gravity to make the whole thing less stable. People do not want to see me injured, so do not want to let me in a small canoe.

I on the other hand, would like to go out with the ladies sometimes, to check fishing nets or crab baskets. The first time I went with my village sister she got told off by numerous people afterwards. I spent a lot of time assuring them that I’d wanted to go, I’m not afraid of falling in and I know how to swim. They weren’t convinced. Thankfully it was a successful trip and I did not tip the canoe. This was not so much for my dignity or my sister’s standing in the community, but because there was a bumper catch in the fishing net and I would have been horrified to tip the canoe and lose everyone’s dinner!

The second time I went in the canoe I managed to fall in before we left the river bank. The news had made it around our village and down to the next one in about half an hour. Who needs the internet to spread news fast?!?! Wet, I got back into the canoe and we went to check the net. My village sister is pretty amazing for still letting me go with her, even though she knew she’d face disapproval from people later. The catch was not as good this time, but I felt more comfortable in the canoe and we made it back in one piece. As I was already wet, I then jumped in the river for a swim. This was both a nice way to cool off and proved to those watching… and those who heard the news later… that  I indeed know how to swim well.

Kids on their way to school by canoe

In my own world I am a competent, intelligent, independent adult. In the village I am a cared for guest who is still learning how to do the most basic things. Finding the balance of hospitality and independence is hard. I want to relate well with people and accept their generous care, but I also want to be able to be myself and not always have a baby sitter looking after me. I suspect it will be a long time before I find the way to balance these things.

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.

Going my way?

I like a plan. Really, I do.

It suits my personality to have a plan, and a backup plan, in place at all times. I like to know what I am doing, when, where, why and with whom. In PNG though, plans are rarely this clear or reliable. I am sure there are some PNGns who equally like a plan and I know there are some Aussies who thrive on having no plan, but me, I like a plan. Let me illustrate changing local plans for you through the adventures of my two trips from Ubuo to Kikori.

The first time I went to Kikori from Ubuo, we had asked around for several days if someone was going that direction. In the end we got a tip-off that a boat was going from Karati. We sent messages to let the people know we’d join the boat there and were told that all was well. On our way to Karati, for a meeting and to join the boat, we passed them going the other way, already underway for Kikori. Mid river we stopped for a chat and a planning session. No, they had not got the messages the day before. Yes, they could wait for us to join them after the brief meeting we first had to get to at Karati. We went on our way.

At Karati we found another boat leaving for Kikori. It was decided that it would be better for me to travel with them and several phone calls were made to tell the first boat to continue without me. I’ve no idea if they really received the message, or if they just continued without me as they figured I’d find another ride. The second option worked out and we headed off to Kikori in good time. There was a stop of nearly an hour while the driver bought extra fuel at a village along the way, but I made it to Kikori in the end… about 15 minutes ahead of the first option. As they had a 15hp engine and we had a 40hp, we clearly spent a lot of time buying the extra fuel.

Refuelling while underway, although it still was not enough!

The second time I went to Kikori, I was planning to go on ‘fortnight’, or the Friday every second week when people get paid. The previous fortnight several boats had gone from Ubuo to Kikori, so I thought I’d be fine, but no one seemed to be going. Discussions were held and I was told there was a plan. Friday morning it rained heavily and continued all day. One person who was to come pulled out, meaning the whole trip was on hold. By Monday the rain had stopped and enough people committed to the trip that I made it to town.

A beautiful short cut (that actually is shorter!) on the way to Kikori

On the Thursday I started asking around about any boats going back towards Ubuo that I could get a ride in. At the town market I caused much curiosity as I asked around for any Kope people, found a cousin-sister of a village-sister of mine and put in my request. I asked the hospital administrator if he knew anyone. I stopped by where the dinghies and dugouts pull up and asked if they knew anyone going my way. I sent an sms to the village to see if they knew anyone planning a return trip. I cast a wide net and waited to see what would happen. On Friday I repeated my request.

Late on Friday someone came to the door. They’d heard the doctor wanted to go to Ubuo. I am not a doctor, but as I was staying in the doctor’s house, the confusion was understandable. One of the hospital staff recommended the person, he was from a neighbouring village and a plan was made. I gave him money to buy fuel as my contribution towards the trip.

Sunrise in Kikori, looking across the river

The next day the boat turned up, a little later than expected, but that was not really unexpected. I loaded myself and my things and we headed off. As we took bends in the river, it seemed like we were taking a different route to what I expected. I couldn’t do much about it but trust the people who helped with the plan and pray that things were on track. After a few hours we were pulling into a village near Paia. I thought we would just drop someone off and be one my way, but the whole canoe and all its contents was emptied out… except me. Um?

Heading back to Ubuo by dugout

‘We will just get some fuel at Paia and be on our way’, I was told. ‘Do I have extra kina for more fuel?’

We crossed the inlet, rafted our dugout up to a timber company tugboat and sent someone to town to buy fuel. The store was closed and we had to wait a few hours. As we waited, the story came out that although the driver was from a neighbouring village, he lived in his wife’s village in a different area. His brother, who worked at the hospital, had convinced him he had to take me back to Ubuo, even though it was out of his way. In trying to be helpful, people had actually ended up causing frustration for both of us.

Eventually the fuel was purchased, we were under way and we made it back to Ubuo, where they dropped me off and promptly returned to Paia. What would have been a 3 hour journey if direct had taken nearer seven hours because of detours and delays.

After these two adventures in getting to Kikori and back, I have been thinking about buying my own boat and motor. This will of course create all sorts of other frustrations, but my hope is that they are less than the frustrations of not owning one.

I like a plan, and to always be asking ‘are you going my way?’ is not a plan that works for me.

9 ways to make a child smile… or cry

There is a fine line between a child's smile and their tears, and it is a gamble which one you will get.

1. Smile

Scenario: child is staring at you, so you smile at them.

Response:

J She smiled at me! I’ll smile back!

L Look at those teeth! Surely she wants to eat me. Wah!!!

photo: ywamships.org.au

2. Speak language

Scenario: you try out the little language you know and say ‘Good morning, my name is…”

Response:

J Ha ha ha! She sounds silly!

L  She knows our language… she must be a returned spirit of our ancestors and now I’m scared. Wah!!!

3. Help with steps

Scenario: toddler is standing at the top of steps they can’t climb down crying for someone to help them, so you help.

Response:

J Yay! She helped me and I got to zoom through the air!

L She touched me! Wah!!!

4. Children and knives

Scenario: small child wants to play with big sharp knife and you let them…

Response:

J I got the knife! It’s what I wanted!

L I cut myself! Wah!!!

…or you take it away from them.

J(eventual) safe child, no wounds, finds another toy

L (initially) she took my toy from me! Wah!!!

5. Immunisations

Scenario: Medical ship comes to town and you help with immunisations.

Response:

J (eventual) Child does not get seriously ill from a preventable disease.

L (initial) She stabbed me! Wah!!!

immunisation tears (photo: ywamships.org.au)

6. Lolly

Scenario: you give the child a lolly

Response:

J Sweet! Yummy!

L (eventual) rotten teeth, very limited access to dentists, and ongoing pain. Wah!!!

7. Literacy Testing

Scenario: you help with literacy testing as part of ongoing research into what helps and hinders literacy in the region.

Response:

J (eventual) Child grows up literate, gets work and helps their family.

L The white woman is asking me questions. I thought I knew what that mark on the page meant, but now my mind has gone blank with fear. Wah!!!

How does class size and resources affect literacy levels?

8. Walk through the village

Scenario: As you walk from the house to the toilet and back, you pass a child.

Response:

J Yay! The reality TV star just walked by and made life interesting.

L She’s a ghost, I’m sure of it! Wah!!!

                True story: there was one child of about 3 years of age who cried every time I walked past his house. One time as I passed by he was playing with his bow and arrow. In fear, he froze, pointing it at me and crying. I was a little concerned that fright would turn into fight and that I was about to get an arrow in my leg! Thankfully he remained frozen and I continued on my way.

Shooting practice…just don’t aim at me!

9. Make eye contact

Scenario: yet another child is staring at you, and you briefly make eye contact.

Response:

J She’s real! She’s friendly!

L The ghost lady noticed me! All sorts of bad things could happen now! Wah!!!

The longer I am in the village, the more that children are familiar with me, the less fear I create and the more smiles I receive, but the tears are still there sometimes.

Spit Boy

It’s time I wrote a bit about the kids I meet in the places I visit. Their big white smiles in their dark faces always make me smile in response. That then sometimes causes a giggle-and-run as they’re awkward about the white woman noticing them. They’re back soon enough, to see what strange thing I’ll do next.

Kids, floral confetti and hand carved guitars in church
(I.Glissmann)

I’ve already mentioned the passionate singing of the kids in church on Djaul, but like all kids, they got bored during the long sermon. Some of them entertained themselves by carefully dismembering any flowers they could get hold of from the decorations. The result was floral confetti over the church floor, which was beautiful in its own way.

Often the kids around us are dealing with a mix of curiosity and caution. They want to know who we are and what we are up to, but if they’ve not been to town too often, may not be used to white people and are not quite sure if we’re to be trusted. I recognise that mix and try to be friendly without being scary.

On Djaul Island we must have succeeded in moving from foe to friend as the kids took to crowding around us. There was one particular pair of boys who took to watching our every move very closely. A little too closely much of the time. They enjoyed watching me type at the computer, with every little thing being new and of interest. They even enjoyed watching the blue circle go around and around!

Unfortunately one of the boys was practising chewing buai and developing his spitting skills. Spitting on Djaul is an art. There are few red blobs on the ground, but the entire mouth of spit is aerosolised into a cloud of red that dissipates into the air. I thought about practising with my mouth full of toothpaste one night, but expected it would end in a minty disaster, so left it to the experts.

This boy was still learning to spit well, but that did not stop him spitting all the time, even when right beside me. At one point he was even under the table where we were working and spitting there. I was not impressed. In fact, I was rather grossed out by the whole affair.

That night when my workmates and I were sharing time together in prayer, my prayer was for Spit Boy, that he might nurture his natural curiosity and use it to discover more of God’s glory…but please God, keep him at a safe distance until then! I believe in honesty in prayer, but this was apparently a little too honest for my workmates, as rather than an amen, we ended with a fit of giggles.

The next day, Spit Boy stayed at a safe distance all morning. After lunch he started to return to us, edging across a bench during one of the teaching sessions. Just when I was thinking ‘here we go again!’, he fell asleep, half on the bench and half off. An answer to prayer? I like to think so!

Suddenly sleepy Spit Boy (R.Drew)

The side effects of an introduction

The other day at morning tea I met with a colleague and realised that there was an odd coolness between us. Usually I get along pretty well with people, so this surprised me and left me trying to work out where things went astray. My conclusion is that we lost our way the day we met.

We met in a work context, but not a formal one. In making small talk, my purpose being to get to know this person I was to be working with, I probably asked about life before PNG. The reply I got felt like the reply one would get at a job interview as previous training and work experience was detailed. As he is an American, I’m told that this sort of introduction through qualifications is natural and normal. As an Australian, I heard it as arrogant. Ok, I’m Aussie, the idioms that came to mind were a lot more colourful than ‘arrogant’. Without realising it, I started to dislike the guy.

In response, when he asked about my past life, I would have given a general reply, mentioned sailing and not detailed all my university degrees. He probably walked away thinking me underqualified and out of place, for Australians typically undersell themselves in such a situation. Our introductions are usually low key and we do not like to be seen as self-promoting. Since then I have felt that this colleague does not value what I have to contribute. Maybe if I told him I had the equivalent of nine years full time tertiary study this might change, yet I struggle with the idea that my value is in my qualifications. I prefer people to get to know me as me, not as a collection of letters which can go after my name or as a job title.

So what now? Being aware of the fact I’m cool to him because of his cultural introductions and judgements I can start to change my attitude and get to know him as a real person, not as a stereotype. Knowing that qualifications and experience are more important to other cultures, I can try to remember not to hide my achievements.

Working in a multinational organisation means constant awareness of different ways of being polite, introducing and relating. So far I have negotiated this fairly well, but in this case, the relationship was derailed at the start. I am not too worried though, as I have plenty of other friends from the US to remind me that most of the time, that cross cultural relationship works well too.