Friends in high places

Remember a while back, when I was royally frustrated because
someone had been telling the Bekondo youth that it was
"uncivilised" to sing in "country talk" [see "A Rare
Parrot-Teacher," c. 17 Oct.]?

Well, since then, not much has been happening with the youth
choir. The Friesens and I have been travelling quite a bit, so I
haven't been attending the meetings, and one of the leaders
(Hans) got a job helping with the national census, so he hasn't
been around either. The thrice-a-week meetings just kind of
petered out, as cocoa harvest season came into full swing and
everyone got busy.

However, I suspect the discouragement of their peers had a good
deal to do with their lack of motivation, as well.

But Dan and Lisa returned this weekend from the Oroko Language
Development Committee meeting, and the Kumba Field Bible
Conference, with two pieces of encouraging news.

The first is that the chief of Ekondo Titi, a city southwest of
us, leads a vernacular choir that has made several recordings.
This is no mean status for a choir to have (!), and no one can
accuse Chief Esoh of being anywhere near uncivilised.

The second is that Rev. Njongi, who is the "field pastor" for
Kumba and the surrounding area, was decrying the lack of Oroko
choirs at the Bible Conference. He noted that the people who
have moved to Kumba from the North West Province still sing in
their own language-- but the Oroko people were all singing in
English. So at a Bible Conference in a primarily Oroko area, all
of the vernacular singing was in Kom! He urged the Oroko
churches to start singing in their own vernacular.

So, if Chief Esoh thinks it's a good idea... and Rev. Njongi
thinks it's a good idea... then the word from people with Status
(and yes, that word should be capitalised in Africa) is that
singing in "country talk" is quite civilised. Thanks be to God
for this move towards understanding in worship!

Spread the word... but not at McDonalds

Several months ago, Lisa and I were sitting in a restaurant in
Kumba with three members of the Review Committee. It's about
average in Cameroon for the food to take an hour or an hour and a
half in coming. So, as we were sitting and waiting, we very
naturally turned to the nearest source of amusement.

Our place mats.

I can't remember what was on those particular place mats,
actually, except something about a picture of a tomato. Perhaps
we discussed the differences between British and American English
as a result. However, the subsequent conversation that ensued
between Lisa and me was more memorable. It went something like
this.

"People really spend a lot of time staring at their place mats--
or other things in the restaurants-- here. I wonder, what if we
printed our own place mats and donated them to restaurants in
Kumba..."

"Cool! Like with the Oroko alphabet on them?"

"Yeah. Maybe the alphabet around the edge or something, and then
a story-- or even better, a verse from the translation-- for them
to practice reading, in the middle."

"Talk about a captive audience!"

So...

This Friday, Dan and Lisa are presenting our hare-brained idea,
born out of a chance conversation that never would have happened
in a fast-food restaurant, to the Literacy Committee. They will
also have a possible design printed out for them to peruse. And
within the next month, we are expecting to have one or two
hundred printed and laminated.

This just goes to show that unavoidable delay is the mother of
effective advertising.

P.S. It's now Monday, and Dan and Lisa have returned from the
meeting. Everyone was VERY excited about the place mat idea, and
it looks like they will not only be distributed in Kumba, but
also in Ekondo Titi and Mundemba!

Waiting for the Coming

Advent

Earth grown old, yet still so green,
Deep beneath her crust of cold
Nurses fire unfelt, unseen:
Earth grown old.

We who live are quickly told:
Millions more lie hid between
Inner swathings of her fold.

When will fire break up her screen?
When will life burst through her mould?
Earth, earth, earth, thy cold is keen,
Earth grown old.

-Christina Rossetti

Showers of blessings

Of course, while Dan and Lisa were away this weekend, the water
went out. We filled up three buckets with very dirty water from
the pump before it died, and then tried to make that last for
three days. It's dry season, so we can't count on rainwater at
all.

Well, last night the water in our filter was starting to run out.
We have filtered water stored for cases like this, so no fear of
dehydration, but the water for washing hands, washing dishes,
flushing the toilet, etc., was also getting very low.

So this morning I woke up to wind and dark, lowering clouds. It
rained for almost an hour, giving us a window of time to fill up
our buckets, and then stopped in time to let the roads dry out
for Dan and Lisa to travel home today.

Then Manfred came by the house (on Sunday morning, when he
doesn't need to be here!) with a bucket of stream water, cleaned
our filter for us, and refilled the entire five-gallon bucket so
it could start filtering our drinking water again.

We are so blessed!

Perspectives III

An anonymous muser:

"In the U.S., you don't have rafters in the middle of the room to
hang kids from. You have to hang them in doorways where they
clutter up the space."

Nope, you have to figure out your own context. It's more fun
that way.

Disclaimer: No children, goats, rafters, or doorways were harmed
in the making of this blog post.

Perspectives II

We went grocery shopping in Douala, on our way back to the
village, at a "Western-style" store called Leader Price.

Most of our shopping is done either at our local market or in
Kumba (the closest town to Bekondo). This particular trip was
mainly to get things that we can't get anywhere else. Some
American junk food for vacation... things like that.

Leader Price was huge. For one thing, the shelves were higher
than my head. For another, they had about five kinds of
everything. And there were actually about seven aisles, at
least. I was slightly bewildered.

Oh. Wait...

Perspectives I

I must say, learning another language has taught me how to be
more positive.

Unfortunately, this doesn't necessarily refer to my attitude
about events. Only to my questions.

Let me illustrate. If you asked the following question and got
the following answer, what would you assume?

"You aren't going to church today?"
"Yes."

In Oroko, this answer means, "Yes, you are correct." (The person
isn't going to church.) In American English, the same meaning
would be conveyed by a simple "No"-- i.e. "No, I'm not going."

When "yes" and "no" can mean the same thing, I think the study of
language is at its most confusing. Maybe the safest thing is not
to allow those pesky inherent assumptions to hide in my questions
anymore.

Christina Rossetti, on goodbyes

Parting after parting,
Sore loss and gnawing pain:
Meeting grows half a sorrow
Because of parting again.
When shall the day break
That these things shall not be?
When shall new earth be ours
Without a sea,
And time that is not time
But eternity?
To meet, worth living for,
Worth dying for, to meet;
To meet, worth parting for,
Bitter forgot in sweet:
To meet, worth parting before,
Never to part more.

Syncretism

Libations are poured to the ancestors and spirits at the
dedication of a new church building.

A Christian family goes to a diviner to find out who put a curse
on them and how to get rid of it, and then praises God for
revealing the information.

The elites at a cultural gathering pray to God to guide the cola
nuts as they are thrown to ask the ancestors' advice.

Syncretism is rampant here, and it's so obvious to those of us
who are cultural 'outsiders.' But I highly doubt whether it's
obvious to people within the culture. Which makes me wonder what
syncretism looks like in my own culture, and where I am guilty of
it.

Syncretism, I think, could be boiled down to something like this:
an acceptance of Christian facts and terminology, without a basic
change in worldview. God as Creator, the historical facts of
Jesus' life, and the plan of salvation may all be acknowledged,
but the basic patterns of dealing with life's problems don't
change. When push comes to shove, trust is still placed in the
old ways-- "just to make sure."

So what happens, in this equation, if you replace animistic
belief with scientific naturalism or materialism? Where do we,
as Westerners and North Americans, trust our cultural beliefs
more than we trust God?

I guess maybe what I'm getting at is this: as exciting as it is
to find "cultural bridges" and "redemptive analogies," which
prove that the gospel is relevant and alive for every culture...
there are, also, always elements of the gospel which will be
radically counter-cultural. A view of the gospel which ignores
those will be syncretism.

Michael Card puts it expressively:

Along the path of life there lies a stubborn Scandalon,
And all who come this way must be offended.
To some he is the barrier; to others he's the way,
For all should know the scandal of believing.

Surreal

While studying my Hebrew textbook yesterday, I came across a
to-do list from three years ago.

Apparently I was stressed during Hebrew class, and thought that
writing down all the things I needed to do would help me
concentrate better.

Finding to-do lists from a vanished phase of one's life has
something of a time-warp feel about it... I feel like I should
tiptoe around and see if the ghosts from the past recognise me.

A prayer for Scripture Use

The collect for this past week struck me as especially
appropriate. May it be the prayer of my heart... for myself and
those around me, for the Oroko, and for the people I don't even
know yet, whom God will allow me to serve in the future.

Blessed Lord, who caused all holy Scriptures to be written for
our learning: Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn, and
inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and ever hold fast the
blessed hope of everlasting life, which you have given us in our
Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy
Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Equatorial moonlight

Last night, the moon was full. I could see individual blades of
grass by moonlight. It was brighter, if possible, than early
morning light, though without the touches of rose or gold. Only
a silent silver light, outlined in black; steady, but with a
transparence that makes it look as if it might flicker any
moment.

Pardon my taking Much Ado out of context... but I can't help
thinking that African moonlight makes LA moonlight look "pale...
with anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord, but not with
love."

The next full moon is on my birthday. I think I know why that
is.

Words that are fun to say

[In honour of Nat, Elisheva, and Peter, and their spectacular
performance at the Fine Arts Faire. I wish I could have seen
it!!]

Every language needs a list like this. Something like "plethora,
hullabaloo, macadamia, gazebo, Eskimo."

So here's the beginning of my Oroko list.

likpekuluku 'Adam's apple'

ikolokolo 'butterfly'

lisekuseku 'hiccoughs'

bokekeboke 'woodpecker'

ofokondimbisekele 'you will cause it to be returned to me'

Guest author

Hi, my name is Brendan. I like to laugh. Have you ever noticed
how funny everything is? Fingers are funny. Plastic frogs are
funny. Kitties are funny. Bouncing is funny. Tongues are
really, really funny. People who smile at me are the funniest of
all. Sharon is funny. Sometimes I'm not sure whether she makes
faces to amuse herself or amuse me, but I just think it's
hilarious. She has an especially funny tongue. It just keeps
getting longer and longer and longer, and then I just have to
laugh. She thinks it's funny when I laugh, and then I laugh when
she laughs, because it's funny to see people laugh.

If everything is this funny when I've only been in the world for
six months, I can't wait to find out how funny it is when you're
grown up.

Africa and Beowulf

[Content warning: this is one of those "you're a weird linguist
who finds the oddest things amusing" post. It's aimed mostly at
those who also find linguistic oddities amusing...]

I've been reading Tolkien with Rachel lately, and savouring his
rich, rolling alliterative poetry.

Then something occurred to me.

Alliterative poetry would be a lot easier to write in a Bantu
language.

Consider these examples: (I've discovered that the Oroko font
doesn't work on my blog, so this is using the English alphabet)

bana babe bani ba baloli balaka
'these two good children are eating'

meleka mebe meni ma meloli melaka
'these two good youths are eating'

lokolokolo lobe loni la lololi lolaka
'these two good butterflies are eating'

I knew noun classes had to be useful for something. If only
Tolkien had studied in Africa...

Analysis

Boggle is an utterly different game when played with linguists.

You hear things like the following:

"Well, '-er' is a productive morpheme. Of course that word won't
be in the dictionary."

"That may once have been an abbreviation, but now it's a frozen
form that's been lexicalised."

"Do ______ words count?" [insert French, Hebrew, Italian, Latin,
Greek, Russian, or Oroko]

"I know too many languages. I can't remember how to spell my
own. I'm sure I did know how to spell that word once upon a
time..."

"If this were an Oroko game, you'd need lots more vowels."

And the following:

"Hey... I wonder what the relative frequency of each letter is."
"No! No more analysis! It's eleven o'clock!!"
"Let's see... one C... one J..."
"Good night, Dan."
"I'll let you know the results before you go to bed so you won't
lose any sleep over it."
"Um... thanks."

Scholarly objection

As a student of historical linguistics, I would like to cordially
express frustration with elementary language arts textbooks which
teach modern English punctuation rules and then expect students
to apply them to King James English.

Thank you.

Creative ways around roadblocks

When you're trying to communicate, and you don't know all the
words you want to use, there are often detours available. Less
efficient, certainly, but much more effective than saying
nothing.

Lisa laughed at me the other day during Rachel's Mbonge lesson,
when I couldn't remember the Mbonge word for 'shoe,' so I said
'thing of foot.' But-- she did understand me.

However, my second attempt that day didn't work so well. The
verb 'dig' was eluding me, so I said (I thought) 'He is causing
the dirt to move.' Lisa gave me an odd look.

"Well," I said in English, "he is causing the dirt to move, isn't
he?"

"Yes," she replied, "but he isn't causing it to WALK!"

Oops.

Deep thoughts

"Life's life. It'll take care of itself." -Dan

"I'm not a kiddo. I'm a lizard." -Rachel

"Context is the only thing that matters." -Dan
"Can I quote you on that, out of context?" -me

Amazing

I want to be like Auntie Grace.

I met her at the missionaries' Friday night Bible study in
Bamenda. A tiny, frail-looking woman, perhaps in her seventies
or eighties, with trembling hands, a slightly quavering voice,
and an incredible story.

As a child, she dreamed of caring for orphans. Instead of
"house," she and her sisters played "orphanage." As a young
single woman, she went into one of the only professions open to
her: teaching. But she never stopped wanting to care for the
helpless. She shared her home with a mentally handicapped friend
who had previously been sent to a nursing home, and later, with
her mother who needed full-time care.

When her mother died, she sold her home and moved to Africa. She
was in Central African Republic for four years, and has been in
Cameroon for four more. She is finally realising her dream of
opening an orphanage and widows' home. She has an orphaned
Cameroonian "son" who not only shares her home, but also helps to
care for her. And she is ambivalent about her chances of
returning to North America.

"I have nothing left there. That house provided the money for my
orphans and widows to have a house. I tell people that my travel
plans for returning to North America are all made. But I'm
leaving them in the hands of the best travel agent in the world,
and He hasn't chosen to tell me whether I'm returning vertically
or horizontally.

"But I can tell you"-- and here her voice gains just a little bit
of volume-- "I would so much rather be here than watching TV in a
nursing home!!"

A story of Grace... in so many ways.

November 1

In honour of All Saints' Day.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of
witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight
that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily hinders our
progress. And let us run with endurance the race that God has
set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, on whom
our faith depends from start to finish." (Hebrews 12:1-2, NLT)

"Almighty God, you have knit together your elect in one communion
and fellowship in the mystical body of your Son Christ our Lord:
Give us grace so to follow your blessed saints in all virtuous
and godly living, that we may come to those ineffable joys that
you have prepared for those who truly love you; through Jesus
Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and
reigns, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen."
(Book of Common Prayer)

"I sing a song of the saints of God,
Patient and brave and true,
Who toiled and fought and lived and died
For the Lord they loved and knew.
And one was a doctor, and one was a queen,
And one was a shepherdess on the green:
They were all of them saints of God - and I mean,
God helping, to be one too.

"They loved their Lord so dear, so dear,
And his love made them strong;
And they followed the right, for Jesus' sake,
The whole of their good lives long.
And one was a soldier, and one was a priest,
And one was slain by a fierce wild beast:
And there's not any reason - no, not the least -
Why I shouldn't be one too.

"They lived not only in ages past,
There are hundreds of thousands still,
The world is bright with the joyous saints
Who love to do Jesus' will.
You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea,
In church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea;
For the saints of God are just folk like me,
And I mean to be one too."
(Lesbia Scott, 1929)

This was not Alcott

I read a book in Bamenda. I'm not going to reveal its name,
because I very much doubt whether anyone else will be able to
find it in print, and I also doubt whether my description of it
will make anyone else want to read it.

It's not always advisable to pick up library books just because
they look like old and quaint novels of the Louisa May Alcott
variety, and are losing their binding.

But it can certainly be amusing. I plowed through pages of
flowery description, dramatic statements of concealed emotion,
cumbersome similes, stereotyped characters (the newspaper-woman
who wears heavy man's shoes and tires her eyes out, the
boardinghouse cook who can't, the prying and curious but
well-meaning servant who reads yellow novels, the white-haired
old lady with "the face of perpetual youth," etc...), drawn-out
hints about mysterious candles in windows and trunks in attics
and yellowed, crumbling letters tied up with ribbon...

And then: the conclusion of the book was that it is better to
live and die in a beautiful fantasy than to know the painful
truth.

This does make me wonder. In a hundred years... what will the
"fluff" novel of today (even the "Christian fluff novel") look
like to our descendants? What will be the distinguishing
characteristics of prose at the turn of the 20th century?
Without the elements that make great literature, what "flavour"
will be left of our books? What will make people laugh and say,
"Oh, this is SO late 20th century (early 21st century)! Just
listen to this passage!"?

Any ideas?