"LANGUAGE: A MANY SPLINTERED THING"

Tuesday, February 21, 2006--just returned from extra duty at the "tuck shop" area of the Norkem Park High School campus (more on the tuck shop later). While walking the grounds of the tuck shop, I heard many languages being spoken by the students...they were either on break, were "bunking" (more on that later too), or their teacher might be absent (the concept of substitute teachers takes on new meaning here). Maybe I should say it takes on "no" meaning here! Teachers are left to their own creativity in covering classes missed because of sickness or whatever other reason they use to say bye-bye to the classroom for a day.
English and Afrikaans are the easiest for my ear to pick up--even in a crowd of excited learners. In my preparatory reading before coming to South Africa I remember the section on languages, especially the indigenous black languages--11 official ones that were not distinct to me at that point. I take that back. Zulu stood out then and it still stands out now...what, staying power because of the poetic nature of the sound it makes when one says it (softly now...Zooo-Looo). Now say Eng-lisch. It does nothing for me either. The language of the classroom is English; it's one of the reasons that made my transition from a Flint classroom to a South African classroom fairly uncomplicated.

The language of the learners, no matter where they are, is their own home language--for me, a smattering of several incomprehensible tongues that on more than one occasion have left me scratching my head, wondering if my learners are conspiring against me in some manner.

It's all innocent banter, of course (gosh, I hope so!). One day I finally acted out against the language barrier and asked one of my 8th-graders to teach me to say "hello" in her indigenous Zulu language. I could see this young learner enjoyed the challenge of teaching me, a helpless, English-language-bound American, how to greet someone in her native Zulu language. Not only that, she queried the class for other ways to greet someone in their home language. The following is a list they developed for me:

ZULU: "SAWBONANI"

SOTHO: "DUMALENG"

PEDI: "KGOTSONG"

TSWANA: "THABELA"

VENDA: "DI MATSHELONI"

SWATI: "SAWBONA"

NDEBELE: "LOEHANI"

XHOSA: "MOLOWENI"

TSONGA: "AVUSHENI"

There you have it. Now keep in mind the above is just a simple greeting. Imagine the cacophoney of sounds when these kids are turned loose to simply chat! My classroom, like all the others, is a cement tomb without accoustical tiles on the ceiling. Most classes have anywhere from 36 to 39 learners...are you understanding the dimension of sound and space in such classrooms? Close your eyes and think of a freight train hitting full steam on the plains of Kansas--sounds just like one of my 8th-grade classes just back from a break at the "tuck shop." More on the tuck stuff too!

You say you want to rely on English only? Okay, shall we talk about the "panel-beater" shop where you take your automobile if it's damaged on the N1 to Joburg. Perhaps they can locate the owner's manual in the "cabbi-hole", the glove-box? You say no...it's stashed in the "boot" (the trunk). When the workers are finished on your car, the damaged parts might be thrown in a "dust-bin." Trash can, of course!

Driving in South Africa is a real adventure. More than once I have wondered what ever possessed the British to promote driving on the "wrong" side of the road? As a matter of fact, everything on vehicles in South Africa is the exact opposite of what one would find in America--or Europe and Asia (with some exceptions, obviously). Oh. And don't dare run through a "robot" while negotiating an intersection (that would be a stoplight for Westerners).
Going shopping? No problem: just grab a "trolley" and fill it up with whatever suits your fancy (a trolley is a shopping cart). Speaking of suits, if you are looking for a swim suit you better ask for a swim "costume." No, it's not Halloween here! Incidently, South Africans don't observe the American rendition of what I refer to as our most pagan holiday.

Need something to snack on--some junk food? No problem...our learners go to the tuck shop on school grounds and get their fill of sugar. I don't think they sell popsicles there, but if they did you would politely ask for an "ice-lollie." Then there's the "stoksweet"...sounds good, huh? Well, that is some kind of sucker or lollipop back in America. In the land of plenty there is not a banana or orange to be seen at the school-run tuck shop. If you prefer, it's called a "snoepie" in the Afrikaans language. While I'm on the subject of Afrikaans, let me not forget the "koeka" shop--flea market shop.

I've also learned there is what is referred to as "township" language. The (black) townships were part of the "Grand Apartheid"; they were established to maintain segregation and continue the solid wall of separation between blacks and whites. The word "spaza" is used to indicate a place where something is purchased outside the normal realm of buying and selling in a place of business. I was told it is like selling items out of one's garage or home. I heard it being used within the school where I teach--someone selling candy or such out of their backpack. I suppose that would be a walking, talking, mobile spaza!

Remember the political advertisments during the last presidential election in America (most folks would just as soon forget those bothersome intrusions into their living rooms)? Democratic hopeful, John Kerry (my man, by the way), was soundly criticized for "flip-flopping" on the issues. The Republicans, not known for creativity, in my opinion, used bathroom flip-flops to emphasize Kerry's supposed vacillation back and forth on key campaign issues. Goodness, remember their silliness in flipping those flip-flops to and fro? The cheap strategy by the GOP was good for laughs--and plenty of votes for the other candidate (the guy who probably understood a flip-flop to be associated with a swimming pool diving board).
Well, in South Africa flip-flops are called "slops." It's national municipal election time here. I'm wondering if a political party in South Africa would want to sway the voters with a "slop" accusation against the opposing candidate? Let's see: that would be a candidate "slop-slopping" on the issues, right? What was funny gets even funnier here!

There were four American educators sent to South Africa by the U.S. Department of State on a Fulbright Teacher Exchange grant. All of us should have been schooled on the fine points of "bunking" relative to youngsters in schools here. When I first heard the term it was in the context of one of my little learners being absent that day. I thought his classmates were being helpful by telling me he was doing some banking. Upon further inquiry, I learned the rascal was bunking, not banking. Bunking is skipping class.

When I have a question about language, virtually any South African language, I take it to Izak Cronje. I'd be willing to bet a bag full of biltong that my "main man" Izak never got involved with bunking during his school days. He is Marina Cronje's husband; Marina is my exchange counterpart who now occupies my classroom in Flint, Michigan. Her husband's knowledge of South Africa and its peoples has been invaluable in my adjustment to living, teaching, and enjoying life here.

He taught me about the "unofficial" language of the miners--developed over years of sweat and toil deep underground in the vast storehouse of riches under Johannesburg. The workers' language is called "Fanagalo." Black miners from all over the continent of Africa contributed most of the linguistic patterns of this unusual language. Whites, so-called Coloreds, and Asians have added some of their distinctions to the language too. It goes something like this: "Yena fuma work lapa?" Translated it means: "You want to work here?"

There could be much, much more on language in this posting. On the continent of over a thousand languages, I'll take a break for now. It's time for me to muddle through my day, trying to understand a very complicated society in which language is only one important component of the rich diversity of my daily experiences.

PUBLIC PRAYER...IN A PUBLIC SCHOOL!

Prayer at the beginning of the day is becoming routine--no, not at home, but at school. Norkem Park High School is a public school where prayer is practised daily.

Daily staff meetings at 7:30am are also becoming a routine (albeit required by administration). On the walk to the second floor staff lounge, where the regulated meetings are held, one passes by a staging area of the school where the Interim Disciplinary Committee assembles. The IDC are senior school leaders, chosen the year before on the basis of their leadership abilities, overall grades, and attitude. To compare them to American schools, they might be considered similar to a student council, but these young leaders have certain responsibilities in helping maintain order and discipline in the school.

There are approximately 32 members--each wears a distinctive green, blazer-like coat that features badges and patches signifying their accomplishments at NPHS. A black blazer is given to the two top achievers in the class; it is highlighted by black/white piping.

Mr. Thomas Tervit, one of the assistant principals, leads the IDC youngsters each morning with brief announcements, directions on their duties that day, some words of advice/encouragement--and a focused prayer. The gathering always takes place in a tight circle, which grows tighter as the participants drape their arms around each other in a loving, prayerful manner. Heads are bowed as the gravelly-voiced Tervit offers a prayer...or sometimes a volunteer from the group will pray.

Following the prayer, the group disbands and joins the entire school body in an outdoor, bricked assembly area located between two three-story, yellow/brown, brick campus buildings (there are approximately 1,400 learners in the grade 8-12 school). IDC members fan out and help maintain order in the neat, disciplined rows , assembled by grade. Mr. Tervit climbs three concrete steps to a podium that reminds one of a solid concrete bunker on the beaches of Normandy.

The aforementioned gravelly voice suddenly becomes a lion-like roar, amplifyed by a speaker system that gives meaning to the term "boom box." He admonishes the gathered crowd of learners for indiscretions of talking while he has the microphone; sometimes he bellows at them for too much litter on the school grounds. Mr. T., as he is affectionally called, can give way to praise too. He knows how to "work the crowd."

Even here, there are times when his voice softens and he requests the huge throng to bow their heads for a prayer. He has been known to improvise a prayer for academic success that particular day. There is total silence on the grounds when a prayer is being said--there are no protests.

Recently, an internet news account related how the Georgia Senate (USA), approved a Bible class bill--the vote was 50 to 1 in favor of a bill that would allow the state board of education to offer elective high school classes in Biblical history, as long as instruction was done in an "objective and nondevotional manner." According to the news story, the measure now heads to the state house.

I'm convinced if the curriculum here had Biblical history, there would be no controversy. The vast majority of families sending their youngsters to Norkem Park High School are Christian. Even so, there is evident sensitivity to religious matters pertaining to the small minority of non-Christians at this public school. There is no evidence of acquiescence to those who would question the majority religious belief.

Biblical readings are heard at any school meeting; administrators read scripture and quote from the Bible readily. There was an honors assembly the past week with a standing-room only auditorium--full of proud, beaming parents and their children. A fellow teacher read a verse from the Bible and led the crowd in prayer.

The routine of prayer is an important component of learning at NPHS. Being a participant in the IDC meeting in the morning has become a pleasure for me. It's truly a delight to add it to the smiles, greetings, and gestures of friendliness toward those young learners I encounter daily. Prayer, it seems, has become ordinary, in this, my extraordinary life here as a Fulbright exchange teacher in South Africa.

Biltong on the Hoof: Krugersdorp Game Reserve

 

"APARTHEID FOR THE BEGINNER..."

This year for the first time, the torturous South African historical Apartheid period between 1948 - 1976 will be a compulsory theme in the national testing of grade 10 learners. Previously, the theme had been applied to the grade 12 learners as part of their Matric Exams, which translates to final exams in the U.S. According to the S.A. Department of Education, learners will have to answer either an essay question or a source-based question on the theme.

After one month in South Africa, it is my distinct impression that everyone has their own "take" on this history, which is conveniently demarcated by that 1994 date when Nelson R. Mandela became the first black president for what has been designated as "The New South Africa." Mandela is a god-like figure to just about everyone here--his icon status, in my opinion, extends beyond Martin Luther King Jr. In the late 1980's, King joined Lincoln and Washington as the only Americans with a national holiday reserved to celebrate their respective birthdays. That makes him the most distinguished African American in America's pantheon of Civil Rights leaders. In that regard, Mandela has no peer anywhere--and that is rightly so. South Africans are acutely aware of the fact that he could have turned to violence and retribution following his release from prison in the early 1990's. I have had occasion to discuss Mandela's contribution to South Africa and the world with whites here whom might be considered somewhat racist in any context. They realize he took a path of forgiveness and reconciliation...and they concede the world took a collective sigh of relief that was more of a gasp of thankfulness by the non-black minority in their beloved South Africa.

Hopefully, the Matric Exam encompasses much more than the period of apartheid. It's been over a decade since the massive changes in society here. There is truly hope for humankind here, in the birthplace of same. A revolution of race and status has taken place in South Africa; history is unfolding right before my eyes. Some here would argue privileged whites maintain control, but I do not have that impression. With conversations heard here, it seems as though there is almost a collective national obsession with what occured before Mandela. The debate does not seem to be about race, it's about "what should have been done...or what mistakes the apartheid government made with institutionalized laws of cruel separation that brought the unwanted attention of the world on South Africa." In light of this obsession, I believe Americans have a similar obsession--with color/race, call it what you will, as one of the primary concerns in our culture and society. Perhaps we could learn something from the Constitution of South Africa, which is considered to be one of the most liberal documents ever created by government.

A compulsory, written exam on historical apartheid seems to go hand-in-hand with my contention that there is a national psychosis in South Africa about the subject. A fellow at a party asked me if I had ever heard of "apart-hate." He was convinced that I, as an American, knew of this term. I didn't. I told him it was new to me--never heard of it. He was also convinced that the convulsive period of apartheid in history was nothing new in the world as far as separation of the races . In retrospect, maybe he had a point. The fellow rambled on with a tirade of abusive language toward the laws that were instituted here against blacks. "It could have been simpler, better conceived", he said. The apartheid regime could have "softened" their approach toward separation, he stated...almost apologetically. I was thinking, "How does one soften the blows of a sledge-hammer?"
It's truly fascinating and compelling--the subject of apartheid. Being here in the land of the architects of separation in South Africa makes it especially so. Dramatic change has taken place though--the evidence is everywhere. Everyone has their own interpretation of what needed to be done to rearrange the social/racial conditions here. Importantly, a period of nonracial democracy exists now and many citizens, black and white, along with Asians, are torn by perceived power struggles evident in the present government. This is history in the making: I'm able to take it all in, while trying to read between the lines and attempting to pry open the different layers of understanding and misunderstanding. This, I hope, will enable me to come to conclusions that probably will not be the same by the end of this Fulbright year-2006. Someone told me of an older black woman who said the present government of the African National Congress (ANC),is composed of some "angry, hungry dogs." She related how dogs who haven't eaten for a long time consume more than they can or should. They growl and get mean. They even remain angry and want more to eat. The woman said that is what is happening now with ANC leaders. And she stated it was vital that we attempt to understand them...in this, the new non-racial democracy of South Africa.

It is not that difficult to understand such simple reasoning. All any American has to do is examine our own history of democracy. We have had our own share of angry, hungry dogs, at all levels of government, who have eaten more than than their fair share of wealth at the public trough. Perhaps I am mistaken in this assessment, but I would be willing to bet there are many, many people out there who would agree with me--Americans and foreigners alike.

"TWO DOWN, THREE TO GO!"

In hunting parlance, game-hunters in Africa all know the reference toward "The Big Five." The animals are: the lion, elephant, rhino, water buffalo, and leopard. Bag one of those beasts and I suppose you join the hunting elite...you might be called a "bwana."

Last Saturday, February 4, was a special day for me; also for my new friend, Werner. He's the husband of a counselor at Norkem Park High School, my place of pleasure and toil as a result of my Fulbright Teacher Exchange grant through the U.S. State Department's Bureau of Educational/Cultural Affairs. We went "hunting" for photographs at the Krugersdorp Game Reserve, located almost an hour's drive west from Pretoria.

The game reserve is well-stocked with many of Africa's most distinct animals; this one even had a few ostrich. On the huge expanse of hilly, bush and tree-covered land were lions and rhinos, along with kudu, eland, zebra, wildebeest, water buck, and others I was not able to identify. The lions, of course, were the most sought-after (for local tourists and folks from foreign countries, like me).

The "hunt" for lions ended after approximately a half hour of driving around the reserve. There they were! It was a hot, lazy day and the lions were doing what lions do on such a day: finding comfort in the shade of the bush and trees, swatting insects with their tails, and a couple were lunching on the leg of some poor, lesser-renowned, hoofed animal. They watched us as carefully as we were watching them. One huge male, mane a bit shaggy, rolled lazily over on his back, and let out a half-hearted "roar."

Game reserves have strict rules about remaining in your vehicle. The lions seemed so friendly and unconcerned about our stares...it was almost tempting to open the door of the car and try to slide over to one of the gentle giants for a "Kodak moment" photo. Not! It was just a thought--no one would be foolish enough to ignore the rules handed out at the gate of the reserve. Number one rule: do not exit your vehicle under any circumstances! Of course, of course...

After what seemed like a couple hundred photographs of the lions, we motored on to other game. Eventually, we located rhino and zebra in a flat-land area that also contained a few water-holes. It had rained and it appeared rain was starting again. For some unknown reason (to us, the non-hunters), some of the fleet footed animals seemed to freeze where they stood when the rain came pouring down. I thought it was a strange posture that certainly made them easy targets of anyone with something more powerful than a digital camera! We "fired away" with Werner's digital (I had in my haste, forgotten my camera at home).

The rain persisted and it was late afternoon. We had a delicious lunch at the reserve lodge, topped off with a couple of beers from Namibia (can't remember the name of the brew, but the Germans definitely left their cultural imprint there with this fine-tasting import to South Africa). We drove off, tired and exhausted from a day that brought Africa a little closer to me. Two of the Big Five were captured on film...it had been a very successful "hunt."

For those of you who are salivating for some photographs from South Africa on this blog, please be a bit more patient. They are coming! I promise to enliven this means of communicating with you soon: with many photographs of various animals in the game reserves that I've managed to visit, along with some local scenes of Pretoria and my "turf" in and around Kempton Park and Van Riebeeck Park. And of course, I will include images of my students at Norkem Park H.S. The best of the best will be chosen and you'll have the opportunity to see what this adventure is all about.

The real adventure here is meeting people like Liz and Werner. Their wonderful hospitality and generosity are typical of South African friendship toward visitors. And that's the way it has been on this Fulbright experience so far...people giving their all to make sure I am enjoying myself. And I surely am!