Closing this chapter

I've made it back to Melbourne, in more or less one piece. Got back on Tuesday and have spent the past few days catching up with friends and sorting out the apartment. To be honest, I'm already looking forward to going back to India. But there's a lot of stuff that needs to be done in the meantime.

Friends have been asking me what I've been doing over in Nepal and India. Though I'd love to condense it all into a 30 second speech that I can repeat over and over again, it's just not going to happen. I tell them I'm looking at minority language education (MLE), especially teaching kids to read and write in their home language, not a foreign language. I also look at language documentation projects for minority / endangered languages, including recording traditional songs and stories, as well as dictionary making.

The push for MLE is particularly strong now, given that more and more parents are sending their kids to schools where a dominant language like English (or Nepali in Nepal) is the main / only medium of instruction. Most people think it would be better to do this, so that the kids will have better English and thus be able to get a better job, and it does sound good in theory. The reality is that children who go to such schools with very little exposure to the dominant language like English at home find school frustrating and quite traumatic. Imagine being dumped in a foreign environment for a few hours a day (this is not an immersion programme) and forced to learn everything from how to read and write to how to count in a foreign language. Children either slog it out and memorise things without understanding them (so there's little cognitive development) or worse, just drop out of school altogether.

Research has shown in places like the Philippines that students who go to schools which implement MLE for the first few years of a child's education and slowly transition to English as the medium of instruction (after introducing it as a subject) actually end up doing better in both their home language and in English. Of course the success of such programmes depends on other factors, including the teachers and the actual curriculum, but it's not hard to imagine the opposite, where kids get frustrated at school when they can't understand much of what's happening.

This brings me back to a point that my friend Linda brought up while we were in Tezpur for the NEILS conference. It was about how sometimes linguists appear to be telling people to preserve their own language, even if the speakers don't see any economic advantage. And I agree, I don't see why linguists should have a say in it. I know people who regret the loss / decline of their language a generation or two later - I belong to one such group, but I'm actually not that sentimental about language loss. Sure, we're losing 'windows' into different worlds, but you can't tell someone to keep speaking a language they don't see value in just so they can keep the language alive for the sake of keeping it alive. I suspect, the fear is the loss of linguistic data which is the driving force behind many a linguist (including one I met up with in Singapore earlier this week who completely disgusted me with the way he treated his language consultant).

While I am not for telling speakers what to speak, I do believe that if there is evidence to show that teaching kids in their home language actually helps significantly with their schooling, I am all for presenting the evidence and advocating to schools and parents that this is what they should be doing.

Now this sounds a lot less impressive than it really is, considering that I'm not trained in producing educational materials for primary school children. But I do know people who work with communities to develop minority language materials for schools in NE India and will be looking at the opportunities to collaborate with them and run workshops in Nagaland to produce said materials.

There's a lot more that needs to be said about this, but I'll be revisiting this stuff later this year. For the time being I'd like to thank everyone who's been keeping up with my updates. The blog will return from hiatus sometime in late 2011.

As a final note, a linguistics professor once said that she had been asked whether she spoke to the language she worked on. She didn't, so the next question was how she could study something she didn't speak. Her response was that a physicist can study the motion of a ball - its speed and trajectory, but it doesn't mean the physicist can play basketball.

That was her metaphor. I'd like to extend that by saying that yes, physicists don't necessarily play basketball. But physicists would never tell basketball players how to play ball, so why do linguists tell speakers what to do with their language? In basketball we have coaches who understand the physics (they don't dedicate their whole lives to observe how particles move) and also have experience with the game. Similarly, we need people like that to bridge the gap between theoretical linguistics and actual language development programmes.

NEILS 6 - Last Day

I've been asked to write this year's conference report for the Linguistics of the Tibeto-Burman Area (LTBA) journal, so I probably do want to make some more notes while the impressions are still fresh in my mind. I don't think the Vice-Chancellor's opening speech I mentioned in my last post will make it into the report.

The past three days have been really inspiring. Sure, the quality of the papers hasn't always been the most desirable, but I got to meet a number of native speakers working on their own languages, as well as people who are doing really exciting things in minority language education (MLE). People who are interested in linguistic theory to various degrees, but who certainly haven't forgotten that people are the ones who use language.



It's heartening to see so many local students in attendance, even if most of them are doing courses in EFL training and the only reason many of them come up to talk to you is to ask to take a photo with you. (They just want photos with the foreign visitors.) I even had a few people take photos 'with me' without even asking.



Of course, there are advantages to being one of the 'foreign scholars' (and therefore more 'senior'). This morning I was sitting at a talk and suddenly choked on my saliva, resulting in a extended bout of coughing. Within minutes, one of the volunteers had come up to me with a bottle of water!

I really shouldn't get used to such service.

With any luck, I'll be at NEILS 7 next year with a whole lot of exciting work to present.

NEILS 6 - Day One

Today was the first day of the 6th annual North East Indian Linguistics Society (NEILS) conference taking place this year at Tezpur University just out of the town of Tezpur, Assam. It's a great place for people for linguists and language workers and teachers working in the region to come and meet.

Now, the last time I came for NEILS it was held in Shillong, Meghalaya. It was a bit of a last minute trip and I'd only decided to attend at the last moment (I actually ended up spending half that conference at Cherrapunjee near the Bangladeshi border, hiking down to see the Khasi root bridges made by 'training' ficus trees to grow their roots across rivers. It was a trip I had planned to do anyway, but it just so happened that someone else from the conference was going there at the time.)

So today was my first time presenting at NEILS - I gave a talk on verb nominalisation in Sumi and how monosyllabic, disyllabic and sesquisyllabic verbs behave differently with regards to such nominalisation. I got some pretty good feedback. It's also always nice to present on the first day of a conference. It means you can relax for the rest of the conference and actually focus on what everyone else is talking about. In my case, it also meant having only one sleepless night.

It was quite an invigorating day for me, given that I got through the paper with no major hiccups. Outside the talks, I also had a few meetings with other participants regarding developing minority language educational materials. The sort of work being done is something I found truly inspiring. It just made want to head back to Nagaland and get a team together to do this sort of work now.

Of course there were a few really painful, though quite amusing moments. The first was when the vice-chancellor of the university, who knew nothing about linguistics, gave his ridiculously long welcome speech at the opening ceremony in the morning. All the while trying to sound like he knew what he was on about. He kept referring to 'the linguistics' and I couldn't tell if he meant 'linguistics' as a discipline or if he just got the wrong word for 'linguists'. For some reason he assumed that the majority of participants came from Nagaland, which was odd because there's only one Naga participant here (unless you also count me, as an adopted Naga). Then he went on for a bit about Nagamese and how to his ears it's like Assamese but 'without the Naga influence' (or something like that). There were a few terrible anecdotes he shared, before he mentioned the fact that he had spent 4 years in Germany and learnt that there are German words like tschüss which aren't found in the dictionary because they're 'slang words used by the young people'! (see Wiktionary entry here)

It's moments like these when I'm glad I'm just a nobody at these conferences and not sitting on the stage having to contain myself in front of the whole crowd.

The second incident happened when a presenter was asked how old the language she was working on was.

Given that languages are constantly changing, the question of a language's age seems quite absurd. I was told later that the Indian government takes the 'age' of a language very seriously, as it is one of the criteria used to judge where a language should be considered a 'Modern Indian Language'. Scott DeLancey clarified that what they really mean is 'How long has the language been written / had a written script?' The belief is that a language is only 'born' when it is codified in some written form.

That means that many languages here are still in their infancy, while most are still unborn!

Language vs Culture

At the Ahuna festival two weeks ago I met Ab. (click here for her blog). She'd just come back to Zunheboto after spending some time abroad, including a few years in the UK. Importantly, she'd heard about the World Oral Literature Project (WOLP) and had even contacted Mark Turin regarding the documentation of Sumi stories. One of the reasons I'd come back to Zunheboto (apart from the festival) had been to find native speakers who were willing and able to do documentary work on their own language, with the aims of producing a dictionary (and possibly a grammar). Incidentally, I had considered applying to the WOLP for funding as well - mostly so I could return to conduct a few workshops, but I never imagined I'd meet anyone who would be interested in recording texts right now.

So it was incredibly fortunate that I met her here in Zunheboto. We brought up the topic of doing a documentation project with H S R., the chairman of the Sumi Language Academy and the Sumi Cultural Association, who happens to be one of the most respected members of the community. And somehow, in the past week and a half, we've come up with a proposal to document a number of traditional songs and stories. These songs are rarely performed nowadays and only a few members of the older generation are familiar with them and even fewer are able to compose new ones.

We decided to do the project under the auspices of the Sumi Cultural Association, since the project will be looking at activities deemed 'cultural'. Without going into too much detail, we've spent three out of the past five days visting schools and offices (I've lost count of the number) seeking the support of important members of the community both financially and in spirit. I've also had more milk tea and amixi (snacks like biscuits that go with tea) than I would've liked. We're also planning a trip to Kohima later this week to meet with other officials to seek their support (and hopefully I'll be able to see some things at the Hornbill Festival too).

Now there are some members of the community whom I had spoken to about a dictionary project in the hopes that I could find someone to train to use the software and do a basic linguistic analysis of the entries - I personally would prefer a native speaker who can use a computer to do the dictionary than myself since a) I'm not a native speaker of the language b) there are capable young people who are proficient in both English and Sumi and c) there's a lot of administrative trouble for me to physically remain in the state and the country. In any case, no one suitable had been found, so I suggested that once I had secured some funding, we could put an ad up in the paper later next year and that I could return to do the workshops.

That all seemed fine until these same people heard about the documentation project. Suddenly, they're telling me not to forget the dictionary. One person went as far as to say that I should be doing the dictionary, not the 'cultural documentation' project. This is all in spite of my reassurance that such a documentation project will feed into a dictionary - stories and songs are composed of words afterall! So now I find myself in an odd conflict between 'language' and 'culture', which to me is completely ridiculous because they're both so inextricably intertwined.

I'm also not sure what they expect of me with regards to the dictionary. Over the past two weeks, I've had one-two hour sessions with a member of the Sumi Literature Board who's insisted on sitting me down and going through lists of animal names, unsure of their English translations, and simply describing them without any pictures! I've tried to hint that this really isn't the proper methodology for doing a comprehensive study of zoological terms, but apparently there's a list of plant and fruit names coming tomorrow...

At the moment I suppose I have to reassure these people that I'm not abandoning the dictionary (and I'm not), while at the same time looking for ways to implement a long term project even when I'm not physically present, which was the initial goal anyway. Ideally, I'd like to be back next year for 3-4 months, but it'll depend on funding and whether I get permission to remain in the state for that long a period of time.

ZOMG, it's a new language!

In the past few days, articles have surfaced on news sites like CNN and Reuters regarding the discovery of a new language in NE India - specifically in Arunachal Pradesh, a region which China claims as part of its territory too.

The form of the articles seemed to follow the familiar structure used when talking about the discovery of a new species of animal (incidentally, close to 150 new species have been discovered in the Greater Mekong area).

Already knowing about the amount of diversity found among the world's languages and their plight, I couldn't help but find even the title a little sensationalist. Yeah sure, there's a new language, so what? Oh, it's on its way out? Again, what's new about that? It also didn't help that according to one language blog I follow:

The announcement this week of findings regarding a previously unknown language has shaken up the field of linguistics.

Seriously? I'm pretty sure the field of linguistics is already badly shaken by the current rate of language death on the planet. But this article appears to be from a non-journalist, simply commenting on the news reports.

Looking at the major articles again today, and couldn't really find the sensationalist element explicit in the writing. Beyond the title - the major role of which is to attract readership - the articles themselves present facts about the speakers, their living environment, the classification of the language in a non-gushing manner. The CNN article is also quick to point out that: "Like most languages, Koro is unwritten and transmitted orally" to readers who may not be aware that there are far more languages without a written tradition.

In contrast, the sensationalist elements in the articles, seem to come from the quotes from the linguists themselves. David Harrison says, "We didn't have to get far on our word list to realize it was extremely different in every possible way." He also writes that, "Koro could hardly sound more different from Aka." Finally, we have the statement: "Koro brings an entirely different perspective, history, mythology, technology and grammar to what was known before."

'Extremely different in every possible way'? 'Hardly sound more different'? 'Entirely different perspective'? What is this? If Koro was a language isolate spoken by a community completely isolated in a valley that had somehow been blocked off from the rest of civilisation thousands of years ago, then maybe. Heck, if it was an alien language from a different language I would embrace such hyperbole. But if it's one of the many Tibeto-Burman languages in the region facing extinction, then how could it be that different?

I could speculate on the reasons the team would say things like these - excitement at the serendipitous discovery of the language, garnering public support and maybe even funding? Maybe the whole 'novelty' of the language is how they're marketing the project, in addition to the sentimentality often associated with language documentation projects. I don't blame organisations like Enduring Voices for doing that - surely, funding is a main problem in this sort of work and part of a successful project is its ability to engage the (global) public and to spur its imagination.