Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Street Art in Kathmandu (I)
Just a few doors down from the guest house. When I first saw it, I thought it was some weird three-legged cow.
Getting permission
Last night over dessert Lauren and I got into talking about the recent discussion on the RNLD (Research Network for Linguistic Diversity) mailing list concerning getting informed participant consent in linguistic research to study their language as well as permission to store recordings on a computer and allow the (controlled) release of such data. Much of the discussion appears to focus on non-literate communities.
In our experience and from what we've been told / read, speakers of minority languages don't usually see much value in having their language studied. There's usually little problem getting 'permission' to study a minority language - speakers are either happy that someone's interested in their language or confused as to why anyone would bother with it. Lauren and I both don't like the idea of 'imposing' ourselves on a language community (or speaker) and it would certainly be easier if the community simply asked for the help of a linguist on their language.
Incidentally, Pastor N., whom I am meeting with tomorrow, has done just that, asking for help with his language. Of course, the reason Pastor N. has asked for help with his language, is that years ago, some visiting SIL linguists came and started work on it, before quickly moving on to a related language. He therefore already sees the value in his language (even if the rest of his language community doesn't), thanks to those linguists all those years ago.
I suppose then that asking for consent in many speech communities is a bit like asking someone to share something that they don't really value (or even want). The kind of 'informed' consent that people in the discussion are talking about, implies that speakers already know the value of the languages they speak. But that usually happens only after a period of time when a linguist has been working on that language and people slowly realise that there is something of value there.
So then, and not to sound like a bureaucrat, but maybe we need at least two 'stages' of permission-getting? If we really want to protect what are perceived to be speakers' rights to their own languages, maybe we need to ask for permission first, then review what is permissible at a later more mature stage in the research. It would be like signing a treaty, then reviewing the terms of that treaty at a later stage.
I doubt such a proposal would sit well with researchers who want to know that the data they collect and openly share right now might one day be slapped with restricted access. But in my opinion, it's too easy to get a person to say 'yes' right at the start - it's like buying an antique chair from someone who views it simply as a dusty old object in urgent need of replacement.
In our experience and from what we've been told / read, speakers of minority languages don't usually see much value in having their language studied. There's usually little problem getting 'permission' to study a minority language - speakers are either happy that someone's interested in their language or confused as to why anyone would bother with it. Lauren and I both don't like the idea of 'imposing' ourselves on a language community (or speaker) and it would certainly be easier if the community simply asked for the help of a linguist on their language.
Incidentally, Pastor N., whom I am meeting with tomorrow, has done just that, asking for help with his language. Of course, the reason Pastor N. has asked for help with his language, is that years ago, some visiting SIL linguists came and started work on it, before quickly moving on to a related language. He therefore already sees the value in his language (even if the rest of his language community doesn't), thanks to those linguists all those years ago.
I suppose then that asking for consent in many speech communities is a bit like asking someone to share something that they don't really value (or even want). The kind of 'informed' consent that people in the discussion are talking about, implies that speakers already know the value of the languages they speak. But that usually happens only after a period of time when a linguist has been working on that language and people slowly realise that there is something of value there.
So then, and not to sound like a bureaucrat, but maybe we need at least two 'stages' of permission-getting? If we really want to protect what are perceived to be speakers' rights to their own languages, maybe we need to ask for permission first, then review what is permissible at a later more mature stage in the research. It would be like signing a treaty, then reviewing the terms of that treaty at a later stage.
I doubt such a proposal would sit well with researchers who want to know that the data they collect and openly share right now might one day be slapped with restricted access. But in my opinion, it's too easy to get a person to say 'yes' right at the start - it's like buying an antique chair from someone who views it simply as a dusty old object in urgent need of replacement.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Yashargumba / यार्शागुम्बा
Last week when I was in Singapore, I caught a documentary titled Yarshagumba: The Himalayan Viagra which aired on the Australia Network. The documentary was about a fungus / herb that grows in the Himalayas that Nepalis risk their lives to collect every spring. The fungus in question is popularly known as 'cordyceps' (though 'cordyceps sinensis' is the scientific name for the particular species that is usually sold). It's an earthy (and by earthy I mean dirty) looking herb I'd seen quite often in the windows of Chinese medicine shops, but apart from the name, I didn't know what it was, let alone what it was used for.
According to Wikipedia, the Nepali word yarshagumba यार्शागुम्बा (even though it's transliterated as 'sh' Nepali doesn't distinguish the sounds 'sh' and 's') is derived from the Tibetan yartsa gumbu དབྱར་རྩྭ་དགུན་འབུ (literally, 'summer herb winter worm'). Similarly in Chinese you have 冬虫夏草 (literally, 'winter worm summer grass') or 虫草 'worm grass' for short. The reason for this odd name is that in winter, the 'herb' starts life as the larvae of any one of a few species of ghost moth found in the Himalayas. The larvae, which live underground, are infected by the spores of the cordyceps sinensis fungus. The fungus then grows in the moth larvae, killing and mummifying them. In spring, the fruiting body of the fungus emerges above the ground, and it's these tiny black stalks that people get on their hands and knees to look for at the beginning of spring.
As the title of the documentary suggests, the fungus is considered to have aphrodisiac properties and prized highly in Chinese medicine its ability to 'cure' other diseases like cancer etc. Consequently, hundreds of Nepalis rush up the slopes of the Himalayas in Western Nepal every year to try to gather as much of the stuff as possible, many of whom are ill-prepared for the extreme cold and occasional blizzard still associated with that time of year.
Sitting in a cafe in Kathmandu, I found 'yarcha gumba tea' on the menu, at an exorbitant 80 Rs a cup (about A$1.20) - double the price of regular tea. Being used to consuming products that people risk their lives to collect (think bird nest's soup), I thought I'd get a cup.
As usual, I expected to be disappointed - how much of an effect can one expect from a single cup? This is what I got:
I suppose I was even more disappointed that the tea came in a bag, with its black contents that really could have been anything. At the table someone noted that it smelt a little like Nepal, like the whole of Kathmandu with its marketplaces, smog and metallic water distilled in a single glass. I didn't think it was that bad, but it was nothing special either.
According to Wikipedia, the Nepali word yarshagumba यार्शागुम्बा (even though it's transliterated as 'sh' Nepali doesn't distinguish the sounds 'sh' and 's') is derived from the Tibetan yartsa gumbu དབྱར་རྩྭ་དགུན་འབུ (literally, 'summer herb winter worm'). Similarly in Chinese you have 冬虫夏草 (literally, 'winter worm summer grass') or 虫草 'worm grass' for short. The reason for this odd name is that in winter, the 'herb' starts life as the larvae of any one of a few species of ghost moth found in the Himalayas. The larvae, which live underground, are infected by the spores of the cordyceps sinensis fungus. The fungus then grows in the moth larvae, killing and mummifying them. In spring, the fruiting body of the fungus emerges above the ground, and it's these tiny black stalks that people get on their hands and knees to look for at the beginning of spring.
As the title of the documentary suggests, the fungus is considered to have aphrodisiac properties and prized highly in Chinese medicine its ability to 'cure' other diseases like cancer etc. Consequently, hundreds of Nepalis rush up the slopes of the Himalayas in Western Nepal every year to try to gather as much of the stuff as possible, many of whom are ill-prepared for the extreme cold and occasional blizzard still associated with that time of year.
Sitting in a cafe in Kathmandu, I found 'yarcha gumba tea' on the menu, at an exorbitant 80 Rs a cup (about A$1.20) - double the price of regular tea. Being used to consuming products that people risk their lives to collect (think bird nest's soup), I thought I'd get a cup.
As usual, I expected to be disappointed - how much of an effect can one expect from a single cup? This is what I got:
I suppose I was even more disappointed that the tea came in a bag, with its black contents that really could have been anything. At the table someone noted that it smelt a little like Nepal, like the whole of Kathmandu with its marketplaces, smog and metallic water distilled in a single glass. I didn't think it was that bad, but it was nothing special either.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Kathmandu!
Arrived safely in Kathmandu yesterday. Singapore seems a world away. Except that all the tourist-oriented cafes look like they belong in Singapore, with prices to match. My friend Lauren came to pick me up from the airport with the guy from the guest house we're staying at. It's always nice to see a familiar face upon arrival.
I've start Nepali lessons tomorrow. I've booked in for about 15 hours of lessons starting tomorrow, with plenty of opportunity to practise out of class. I'm also meeting a speaker of Kagate (that Lauren introduced me to online) later in the week to talk about some dictionary making. I thinking I'll use a program called WeSay, but more on that later this week.
At the moment, my Nepali is really basic, but knowing some Hindi helps, and I can read Devanagari alright, albeit very slowly. My main problem now is that because I spent the last few days on Bintan (an Indonesian island just 1 hour away from Singapore), my brain keeps going to the little Malay / Indonesian it knows. Incidentally, Malay has historically borrowed many words of Sanskrit origin which are cognate with Nepali words e.g. bahasa 'language', so sometimes it helps, although the two languages are still grammatical worlds apart.
For non-Singaporeans, I also explained over breakfast that the name 'Singapore' itself has roots in Sanskrit (via Malay) - singa 'lion' and pura 'city / town'.
I've start Nepali lessons tomorrow. I've booked in for about 15 hours of lessons starting tomorrow, with plenty of opportunity to practise out of class. I'm also meeting a speaker of Kagate (that Lauren introduced me to online) later in the week to talk about some dictionary making. I thinking I'll use a program called WeSay, but more on that later this week.
At the moment, my Nepali is really basic, but knowing some Hindi helps, and I can read Devanagari alright, albeit very slowly. My main problem now is that because I spent the last few days on Bintan (an Indonesian island just 1 hour away from Singapore), my brain keeps going to the little Malay / Indonesian it knows. Incidentally, Malay has historically borrowed many words of Sanskrit origin which are cognate with Nepali words e.g. bahasa 'language', so sometimes it helps, although the two languages are still grammatical worlds apart.
For non-Singaporeans, I also explained over breakfast that the name 'Singapore' itself has roots in Sanskrit (via Malay) - singa 'lion' and pura 'city / town'.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Know how to eat
Over lunch today, my brother mentioned that our grandmother (and I suppose a number of our older relatives here in Singapore) often ask the question: "You know how to eat ______?" about any local dish ranging from buah keluak (sometimes translated as candlestick nuts) to steamed pomfret.
The thing is, the question isn't about whether we know the method or art of eating that particular dish (usually: open mouth, insert food, masticate, swallow). It's about whether we eat the dish at all, with the implication that we like to eat it.
The form of the question is most likely a calque or word for word borrowing from a southern Chinese language/dialect like Teochew or Hokkien. Mum said the question in Teochew over lunch: leu hiau chiat? (lit. 'you know eat?') (not really sure how to transliterate these), where hiau is a modal verb that can be translated as 'can' (in the sense of possessing the general ability) or 'know'. Other languages often obligatorily use a verb meaning 'know' when referring to behaviour that must be learnt, such as cooking and driving, where English has the more general 'can' which can apply to general ability to do something, having permission to do something or having the opportunity to do something. An example off the top of my head: 'He can cook (in the sense that he knows how to, not that he will have time to do so).' would be Il sait faire la cuisine in French (from what I understand, Il peut faire la cuisine would be more appropriate if one means he has the opportunity to cook.)
In Teochew, this modal verb is also applied to the act of eating particular dishes, which is viewed as behaviour that must be learnt. It's therefore not surprising that when I tell my grandmother, "Yes Mama, I know how to eat this", she will often respond with, 'Wah, so clever.'
The thing is, the question isn't about whether we know the method or art of eating that particular dish (usually: open mouth, insert food, masticate, swallow). It's about whether we eat the dish at all, with the implication that we like to eat it.
The form of the question is most likely a calque or word for word borrowing from a southern Chinese language/dialect like Teochew or Hokkien. Mum said the question in Teochew over lunch: leu hiau chiat? (lit. 'you know eat?') (not really sure how to transliterate these), where hiau is a modal verb that can be translated as 'can' (in the sense of possessing the general ability) or 'know'. Other languages often obligatorily use a verb meaning 'know' when referring to behaviour that must be learnt, such as cooking and driving, where English has the more general 'can' which can apply to general ability to do something, having permission to do something or having the opportunity to do something. An example off the top of my head: 'He can cook (in the sense that he knows how to, not that he will have time to do so).' would be Il sait faire la cuisine in French (from what I understand, Il peut faire la cuisine would be more appropriate if one means he has the opportunity to cook.)
In Teochew, this modal verb is also applied to the act of eating particular dishes, which is viewed as behaviour that must be learnt. It's therefore not surprising that when I tell my grandmother, "Yes Mama, I know how to eat this", she will often respond with, 'Wah, so clever.'
I friend you, you unfriend me
Over lunch yesterday, a few Singaporean friends and I were celebrating the fact that 'friend' is now a commonly used verb. Prior to the advent of Facebook, 'friend' as verb - pronounced closer to 'fren' - had been relegated to the realm of Singlish kid speak. For example:
Kid 1: I fren u, u fren me.
Kid 2: (I) Dun fren u.
('dun' sounds like 'doe' with vowel nasalisation - derived from 'don't')
Or something like that - it's been a while since I was in kindergarten.
It conveys a sense of liking someone, something to the effect of 'I want to be friends with you, do you want to be friends with me?'. But adults may still jokingly say to one another, 'I dun/donch fren you' if the other person offends them mildly.
I then asked people if they preferred the verb 'unfriend' or 'defriend' (neither of which is in Singlish kid speak). The unanimous response at the table was 'unfriend', even though after some consideration, people realised that 'un-' generally negates adjectives while 'de-' negates verbs. One reason suggested for why 'unfriend' sounded better was the existence of the word 'unfriendly'.
Having done a bit of googling, I found this article: The Un-believable Un-Verb from September 21, 2009, which explains that there is an 'un-' prefix added to verbs (marking the reversal of an action, e.g. 'unfasten', 'unmask' - and also 'undo') which has a different etymology to the 'un-' prefix added to adjectives. 'Unfriending' someone on Facebook therefore makes more sense since you are undoing the action of 'friending' them.
But I wonder if there are still people who would prefer 'defriend'?
Kid 1: I fren u, u fren me.
Kid 2: (I) Dun fren u.
('dun' sounds like 'doe' with vowel nasalisation - derived from 'don't')
Or something like that - it's been a while since I was in kindergarten.
It conveys a sense of liking someone, something to the effect of 'I want to be friends with you, do you want to be friends with me?'. But adults may still jokingly say to one another, 'I dun/donch fren you' if the other person offends them mildly.
I then asked people if they preferred the verb 'unfriend' or 'defriend' (neither of which is in Singlish kid speak). The unanimous response at the table was 'unfriend', even though after some consideration, people realised that 'un-' generally negates adjectives while 'de-' negates verbs. One reason suggested for why 'unfriend' sounded better was the existence of the word 'unfriendly'.
Having done a bit of googling, I found this article: The Un-believable Un-Verb from September 21, 2009, which explains that there is an 'un-' prefix added to verbs (marking the reversal of an action, e.g. 'unfasten', 'unmask' - and also 'undo') which has a different etymology to the 'un-' prefix added to adjectives. 'Unfriending' someone on Facebook therefore makes more sense since you are undoing the action of 'friending' them.
But I wonder if there are still people who would prefer 'defriend'?
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Diverse Languages, One Identity
A few days ago I was wandering my favourite section at my favourite bookshop in Singapore - the languages section at Books Kinokuniya at Takashimaya. I came across a small booklet titled Diverse Languages, One Identity, "a joint initiative between the National Institute of Education (NIE) and the National Library Board.
As you can see, the booklet covers basic conversations in the four official languages of Singapore: English, Mandarin Chinese, Malay and Tamil. The blurb on the back adds, "This booklet aims to create an awareness of the spoken mother tongue among students and teachers and serves as a good platform to build understanding and respect among the various races in Singapore."
Usually I'd be quick to dismiss any attempts by a national board to encourage a more 'cohesive' society (think 'Racial Harmony Day'), but given the focus on language, I thought I'd give it a second glance. The NIE news says the launch date for the booklet was back in April 2010, but judging from the stacks of copies on the shelf, I doubt it's been a bestseller.
For one thing, the price of $10.70 for a modest 64-page booklet (with pages smaller than your standard A5 size) seemed a little exorbitant. The only reason I can offer for the rather hefty price is the mini CD that comes with the package, given that no mention of said CD is found on the cover of the book. The distributors would have done better to have the words 'FREE CD INCLUDED' on the packaging.
Now, the fact that there is a CD included puts this booklet, in my mind, above any random Lonely Planet phrasebook marketed to travellers (who are often absolute beginners in a language). Sadly, though not surprisingly, this little booklet still suffers from a large number of shortcomings.
The introduction states that the booklet "is designed to develop basic inter-personal aural and oral skills in the three official mother tongues of Singapore with the objective of promoting inter-ethnic linguistic awareness and cross-cultural understanding." The book is divided topically (or rather by speech acts): Greetings, Making Introductions, Ordering Food, Making Apologies, Congratulating etc. English and Malay are written using their standard orthographies, while Chinese is transcribed using the romanised hanyu pinyin system (no characters are given), and Tamil with 'simplified and Romanised IPA notations" for reasons given in the introduction of the booklet. Each chapter contains a list of "useful phrases" (often just commonly used vocabulary) given in each language as well as a few "scenarios" consisting of 2-3 people speaking a total of 2-4 lines of dialogue. All phrases and scenarios have been recorded on the accompanying mini CD.
From a language learner's perspective, many of the phrases are not terribly helpful. Many of the initial dialogues are artificial and the English is clearly set at the wrong register (one I think of as 'formal post-colonial'), e.g. 'Hello, how's everything lately?', "I'm fine, it has been a while since we last met." There are more complex sentences, e.g. "I really did not expect to win it", but their translations are difficult to analyse morphologically (or word by word) without any prior knowledge of those languages, and it is unlikely any beginner would dare to use these sentences in real life with nothing else to continue a conversation in. Some of the recordings are also too fast for the untrained ear to pick up, especially with no explanation of the sounds represented by the various transcription systems used in the booklet.
Taking a step back and looking at the larger aims of the book, these are predicated on the rather outmoded concept of 'mother tongue' in Singapore, based not on one's 'first language' nor on what is spoken at home, but on one's race. (Ironically enough, it's one's family name, taken from the father, that is taken into consideration.) These are the three official languages taught as 'mother tongues' in school, with English as the 'first language'. Therefore, if you're Chinese (or just have a Chinese family name) you learn Mandarin in school as your 'mother tongue', if you're Malay you learn Malay and if you're Indian you learn Tamil. Never mind that your home language might not be any one of these three languages - even if you're Chinese it might be Hokkien or Cantonese that you speak at home. Furthermore, ethnic Malays and Indians who wish to learn Mandarin in school cannot take it as a 'mother tongue', though there are limited opportunities to study it.
It is therefore counter-intuitive to have an initiative designed to get people to understand each other's 'mother tongues', when the whole system is set up to divide people based on language categories that have been largely constructed. While I can see reasons in trying to preserve / construct / reconstruct distinct cultural identities through language, it makes little sense to then have to resort to initiatives like Diverse Languages to bridge them again.
This brings me to my next point. We already have a common language in Singapore, and it's Singlish. Whenever I see inter-ethnic groups of Singaporeans together, they're speaking Singlish. If you want to create a single 'Singaporean' identity that separates the 'locals' from all the 'expats' (and the rest of the world), we already have one with its own linguistic basis, and it doesn't even need to be taught in schools, or in booklets for that matter.
As you can see, the booklet covers basic conversations in the four official languages of Singapore: English, Mandarin Chinese, Malay and Tamil. The blurb on the back adds, "This booklet aims to create an awareness of the spoken mother tongue among students and teachers and serves as a good platform to build understanding and respect among the various races in Singapore."
Usually I'd be quick to dismiss any attempts by a national board to encourage a more 'cohesive' society (think 'Racial Harmony Day'), but given the focus on language, I thought I'd give it a second glance. The NIE news says the launch date for the booklet was back in April 2010, but judging from the stacks of copies on the shelf, I doubt it's been a bestseller.
For one thing, the price of $10.70 for a modest 64-page booklet (with pages smaller than your standard A5 size) seemed a little exorbitant. The only reason I can offer for the rather hefty price is the mini CD that comes with the package, given that no mention of said CD is found on the cover of the book. The distributors would have done better to have the words 'FREE CD INCLUDED' on the packaging.
Now, the fact that there is a CD included puts this booklet, in my mind, above any random Lonely Planet phrasebook marketed to travellers (who are often absolute beginners in a language). Sadly, though not surprisingly, this little booklet still suffers from a large number of shortcomings.
The introduction states that the booklet "is designed to develop basic inter-personal aural and oral skills in the three official mother tongues of Singapore with the objective of promoting inter-ethnic linguistic awareness and cross-cultural understanding." The book is divided topically (or rather by speech acts): Greetings, Making Introductions, Ordering Food, Making Apologies, Congratulating etc. English and Malay are written using their standard orthographies, while Chinese is transcribed using the romanised hanyu pinyin system (no characters are given), and Tamil with 'simplified and Romanised IPA notations" for reasons given in the introduction of the booklet. Each chapter contains a list of "useful phrases" (often just commonly used vocabulary) given in each language as well as a few "scenarios" consisting of 2-3 people speaking a total of 2-4 lines of dialogue. All phrases and scenarios have been recorded on the accompanying mini CD.
From a language learner's perspective, many of the phrases are not terribly helpful. Many of the initial dialogues are artificial and the English is clearly set at the wrong register (one I think of as 'formal post-colonial'), e.g. 'Hello, how's everything lately?', "I'm fine, it has been a while since we last met." There are more complex sentences, e.g. "I really did not expect to win it", but their translations are difficult to analyse morphologically (or word by word) without any prior knowledge of those languages, and it is unlikely any beginner would dare to use these sentences in real life with nothing else to continue a conversation in. Some of the recordings are also too fast for the untrained ear to pick up, especially with no explanation of the sounds represented by the various transcription systems used in the booklet.
Taking a step back and looking at the larger aims of the book, these are predicated on the rather outmoded concept of 'mother tongue' in Singapore, based not on one's 'first language' nor on what is spoken at home, but on one's race. (Ironically enough, it's one's family name, taken from the father, that is taken into consideration.) These are the three official languages taught as 'mother tongues' in school, with English as the 'first language'. Therefore, if you're Chinese (or just have a Chinese family name) you learn Mandarin in school as your 'mother tongue', if you're Malay you learn Malay and if you're Indian you learn Tamil. Never mind that your home language might not be any one of these three languages - even if you're Chinese it might be Hokkien or Cantonese that you speak at home. Furthermore, ethnic Malays and Indians who wish to learn Mandarin in school cannot take it as a 'mother tongue', though there are limited opportunities to study it.
It is therefore counter-intuitive to have an initiative designed to get people to understand each other's 'mother tongues', when the whole system is set up to divide people based on language categories that have been largely constructed. While I can see reasons in trying to preserve / construct / reconstruct distinct cultural identities through language, it makes little sense to then have to resort to initiatives like Diverse Languages to bridge them again.
This brings me to my next point. We already have a common language in Singapore, and it's Singlish. Whenever I see inter-ethnic groups of Singaporeans together, they're speaking Singlish. If you want to create a single 'Singaporean' identity that separates the 'locals' from all the 'expats' (and the rest of the world), we already have one with its own linguistic basis, and it doesn't even need to be taught in schools, or in booklets for that matter.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Smashing the ceremonial champagne bottle
It's back to the world of blogging for me, as I spend two weeks of limbo in Singapore waiting my visas to Nepal and India to be processed. With the MA in Linguistics behind me, I suppose it's time for another adventure.
This next trip starts with three weeks in Kathmandu, followed by two weeks of trekking in the Khumbu region around Everest. I'll be flying to India in early November, where I plan to be in the North east from early November to late January 2011. I've never been to Nepal, and I only spent a few weeks in NE India in early 2009. (My last memory of Nagaland was getting poisoned by my breakfast omelette at the Hotel Japfü before having to catch a -thankfully quick- train from Dimapur to Diphu that same day.)
I'm interested in work that's happening in Nepal on endangered languages and looking at what can be done in NE India, which in theory is the main motivation for the blog. Of course, there'll be the odd hellish travel story (with details slightly embellished) and tales of language learning difficulties.
Looking forward to learning some Nepali over the next weeks!
This next trip starts with three weeks in Kathmandu, followed by two weeks of trekking in the Khumbu region around Everest. I'll be flying to India in early November, where I plan to be in the North east from early November to late January 2011. I've never been to Nepal, and I only spent a few weeks in NE India in early 2009. (My last memory of Nagaland was getting poisoned by my breakfast omelette at the Hotel Japfü before having to catch a -thankfully quick- train from Dimapur to Diphu that same day.)
I'm interested in work that's happening in Nepal on endangered languages and looking at what can be done in NE India, which in theory is the main motivation for the blog. Of course, there'll be the odd hellish travel story (with details slightly embellished) and tales of language learning difficulties.
Looking forward to learning some Nepali over the next weeks!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)