kar0ling

Word for word, this blog is taken from lasselantha. It's hilarious and true and I wish I had thought of it first: Our weird and wacky language...with a twist English is full of homophones. You know, homophones... those words that they make you practice spelling over and over in elementary school... the ones that sound the same but are spelled differently. Those confusing words like... "leave" and "live" "sheep" and "ship" and most especially... "hat" and "heart"

Linguistic issues "Of course, you should use the highest and best language! Let's encourage not only fluency but perspicuity and appositeness in language use," cries the linguistic purist--the prescriptivist--in me. Realistically, of course, comprehensibility is a higher priority than eloquence. Are the two dichotomous, you ask? Indeed, they can be; as regards the Fulfulde Bible, for example. This translation, completed in the 1970s, is now facing review and updating. Surprised to hear a people group still considered unreached has had a Bible in their language for so long, I learned the translation's primary target is not necessarily the Fulbe themselves, but the many smaller people groups occupying the same area who speak Fulfulde as a trade language. The issue then, is what version of Fulfulde to use. "High Fulfulde," as spoken by educated Fulbe is not the same language spoken in the market by the many vendors from differing cultural backgrounds. Though th...

The Fulani, or Fulbe, or Fula, or Pullo, or Pel, or Peulh, or Futafula people are a lighter-skinned (non-Bantu), traditionally cattle-herding (thus semi-nomadic), culturally Muslim people group spread across West Africa from Senegal to Cameroon. Their language is called Fulfulde. That's how they're usually described--with such a list of names. Curiousity piqued, during World Team conference I asked the man who works with said people to explain what the names are all about. Simple, he said. Fulani is the Hausa (majority ethnic group and trade language of Nigeria) word for the people who call themselves the Fulbe. One person is a Fula. What does "Fulbe" mean? "The people." Reminds me of North American Aboriginal groups who are often known popularly by other tribes' name for them. Example: "Eskimo" scornfully named "eaters of raw meat" by a neighbouring Alonquian (I believe) tribe . Their name for themselves, of course, is "The peop...

The book of Ruth –or, Duti*, as she’s called in Oroko—has officially been launched. This is the first complete book of the Bible to be published in the Oroko language. The “launching” was held as part of an Mbonge cultural association meeting. Sales of alphabet charts, primers and sundry Oroko materials were slow, but the big-wigs donated generously for their copies of the new publication, setting an excellent precedent for the masses to hopefully follow as the day wore on and the program moved to other matters. * substituted for similar IPA symbol (We’ll know more later. Dan & Lisa, who were at the meeting, had to leave as soon as their part in the day was done, so as to get to Bamenda on time for FES. They nearly didn’t make it at all after some important part related to the transmission started dumping all their oil on the road just before they started the winding climb up a steep escarpment, but after a quick fix, the truck is functioning and they’re here safe and sound.)

The aforementioned "progres" typo.

Tragic events last Sunday were nevertheless used for good. The pastor and some of the church leadership were out of the village for conferences; the man left in charge of the service in their absence had a family crisis (wife gave birth to stillborn child); so the sermon was dumped on Dan’s lap with one hour’s notice Sunday morning. Undaunted, he got creative and the church reaped the benefit. He read the first part of Joseph’s story, slightly paraphrased, in Oroko and had Mr. Mosongo (his neighbour, a retired headmaster, member of the translation team, and respected village elder) translate into Pidgin for non-Oroko speakers in church. The message then was an interactive series of questions given in Oroko by Dan, and in Pidgin by Mr. Mosongo. Church was pretty empty that morning, but the response to the new style was remarkable. People were more awake than I’ve ever seen, and though they usually gave answers in Pidgin, there was a level of enthusiasm for the discussion and of engageme...

"Ashia." The word is ubiquitous in English-speaking Cameroon; probably because it is so versatile. Where it comes from, who can say? What it means -- a lot: "hello" "goodbye" "alas/sorry/that's too bad" and, best of all: "too bad, pal; see if I care!" It's amazing what inflection can do.

Maybe it's just me, but I realized the other day while conversing with Joshua (aged 2) that my speech consisted almost entirely of interrogatives with the occasional imperative thrown in -- usually an injunction to NOT do something. It was a pretty one-sided conversation with power heavily vested on my side of things. But how else are you going to talk to the kid? He was by no means cowed; he made some imperatives of his own. On the more interactive side of things, a game Joshua and I like to play is "name that thing." He's got a little case full of vehicles which he holds up one by one and declares "truck!" I, in turn, offer a more specific, or accurate, name for the object. It goes like this: J: "truck!" K: [nodding] "car" J: "truck!" K: "fire engine" J: "truck!" K: "Caterpillar" J: "truck!" K: "tractor" J: "truck!" K: "yup, that one's a truck, alright" ...

One -- e yoko two -- be be three -- be dado four -- be ne five -- be ta No problem there. Five less one -- be ta diyoko Five less two -- be ta na bebe Less two -- be be be se Less one -- e se(e)yoko Ten -- dondado Communication linguist [wannabe] that I am, after groaning, "not MORE math in counting!" (think French word for 70, 80 & 90) my first question is "What on earth do they do that makes this kind of distinction useful to them!?" Some things in language happen for no particular reason; however, I do not believe cumbersome methods of counting are one of them. Whatever it was may be long lost, but I'm sure at some point it made sense for these people to use this system of counting and I'm very curious to know why that was. * first syllable changes with noun class ** <e> <o> <d> substituted for nearest relatives in Oroko alphabet where applicable

I am endlessly amused -- and partially horrified -- that "hard work" is one word according to the Ministry of Education in Cameroon. The motto of the Ministry -- painted on every school sign across the country -- is Peace, Hardwork, Progress. Walking around the village the other day, I noticed for the first time that in Bekondo the Primary School advocates not only "Hardwork" but also "Progres." (In fairness, most of the country speaks French, so their slogans would be in French and are probably spelled correctly -- I hope.)

If everyone speaks English, why do we need this Oroko Bible translation? Consider this: The back-translator was going over some text when one of the Baptist pastors (seminary trained) happened by and was interested to hear the story of Cain and Abel. In Oroko, Cain says to Abel, 'let's go out to the [word for farm in "the bush" (read: jungle)]'. "No," says the pastor, "you've got the wrong word there. It should be [word for soccer pitch]. You know, the field." This particular misunderstanding has no major theological import, but you can imagine if an educated person could make such a mistake as this, what those with a less masterful grasp of English would make of the NIV, to say nothing of the King James Version, which many of them use.

The interesting thing about translating the Bible into a jungle language is that you learn things about your own language, knowledge-base, and assumptions. A lot of the things in the Bible make a lot more sense to the Oroko people than to your average North American English speaker: kinship relations, aspects of animal husbandry, ways of celebrating (I have a whole new understanding of the parable of the 10 virgins after being involved in a wedding out here). But, then there are a few things which have no referent in this culture and require extensive modifying phrases to explain a concept or object denoted by a simple word in English. "Bronze" was the problem word for the translation team most recently. Oroko has only one word for all metal, but the Bible names many different kinds of metals, and the distinctions between them, while not absolutely crucial to meaning, are important enough that they worth differentiating. Another troublesome concept because it not only reoccu...

Pistache. Perhaps my translation of French to English is off, but one would think it’s safe to assume that means pistachio — only it doesn’t. It is a slightly green colour, vaguely reminiscent of pistachio pudding, though not nearly as bright. Similarities to things I’d call pistachio end there. It’s a spongy paste, wrapped in a banana leaf, tasting like…hmmm, not nothing, but not much either. The flavour is quite subtle. It’s made of egusi: roasted, ground-up gourd seeds.

Now, youth is a tricky word anywhere. In government documents it may denote people under 25, but in a church context in North America, it usually refers to grade 7-12 kids. In Cameroonian churches, it refers to anyone of child-bearing age. That’s a pretty broad spread but it really does reflect who may possibly go to “youth” at church in Cameroon! My Lutheran friend regularly deals with 3 churches around Kumba and their youth groups. The diversity of these groups becomes an issue when they get together as a youth association. One group follows the North American model with kids ranging from 12 to 21. Another consists of a handful of early twenties youth. But the third group, when asked to define the parameters of “youth” said “under 43” because that’s the age of their oldest member. 43!!!! Good gracious! I knew in the village one may be part of the “youth” until one’s own children are old enough to be included. That just blows my mind. The definition “within the childbearing years” mak...

According to one of the guidebooks, Limbe is one of the centres of English resistance in Cameroon, Bamenda being the other. Cameroon is kind of like Canada in reverse, official-language-wise. Both French and English are official languages, but English is only spoken in North West and South West Province—the rest of the country speaks French. Given the earlier statement, I was awfully surprised to spend most of our mini-holiday on the beach doing the talking because everyone we encountered spoke French—some exclusively. So if Limbe is a stronghold for English-speaking Cameroon, well, I think they’re losing.

The fact that literate Oroko people think they need to be taught how to read Oroko flabbergasted me. Yes, the alphabet contains 4 non-standard characters*, but otherwise it's the same alphabet as used for English. It's marvellously phonetic; as a non-Oroko speaker, I have no difficulty reading it. They understand what it says -- what can possibly be so hard that they need lessons? "They don't learn phonics here," Becky explains. Oh. Okay, yeah, that would make things much more difficult. I understand now. She continues, "Even if they did.." Gasp! I see: I'm not saying it's wrong, but even the most well-spoken Cameroonian's English is decidedly *non-standard* by North American standards. Given the many exceptions already existing in English spelling, I can see how trying to teach phonics with such non-standard pronunciation would be very difficult. So I must no longer give strange looks when I hear of Oroko people claiming they need to be taug...

At a special session on Sabbath rest at SIL’s CTC (Cameroon Training Centre) in Yaounde, one missionary said the English service is like water to her soul when she comes in after months in the village. It offers rest, rejuvenation, and a time of corporate worship—which church in the village doesn’t. It touches her heart. That’s the irony of our work, pipes up another translator. The better a job we’re doing, the less at home we’ll feel. We’re out there translating the Bible into these tribal languages so their speakers can have this kind of meaningful and immediate worship. So, the more our work helps the villagers worship in their native idiom, the less “at home” we’ll feel.

Comprehensibility is not the greatest goal in communication; status is. Complicating the issue further, Cameroon is an officially bilingual country: French and English. French is the dominant language with only 2 of the 10 provinces speaking English. Bilingualism in Cameroon is much like bilingualism in Canada—it exists mostly on paper. The French areas speak French while the English areas speak (mostly pidgin) English and even the culture of the two areas differs. Big Bekondo is in the English-speaking part of the country so I was surprised by how often I’d be greeted in the village with a French “bon soir.” When I asked Lisa if people spoke French here she said no. People like to use that greeting on white people because it connotes status; it makes them look educated. Next in rank is English; that is, “grammar” English; proper English as taught in school. Even this strikes my ear as quaint at best, poor at worst. They never use contractions, the stress patterns are different, (besid...