Me and You April 23, 2009

Yesterday I was saying something to a colleague about how he and I would go somewhere together. I said, “Você e eu, nos vamos…” (“You and I, we are going to…”). He started laughing and said that “você e eu” sounded really funny. He explained that you say, “Eu e você…”, putting I first. Another native-English speaking colleague and I explained that in English we always put everyone else before I.

I thought about it for a bit then commented to J that our language usage explains a lot about our different cultures. As much as we romanticize the communal nature of African society, Mozambican culture is actually very much a “Me first” society. It’s apparent when getting on chapas, waiting in line at the bank, buying groceries, and driving in a car. It’s apparent on a deeper level by the high level of corruption in society.

The comment about language reflecting culture sparked a conversation in our office about Portuguese versus English colonization. My Mozambican colleagues said that “eu e você” came from the Portuguese and demonstrates how the Portuguese only thought about themselves and didn’t try to develop their colonies at all. Consequently, when they left in the 70s, they left no skilled Mozambicans behind. To this day, Lusophone countries are still among the most undeveloped in Africa. Mozambique is considerably less developed than all its bordering countries (South Africa, Swaziland, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Malawi, and Tanzania). My colleagues commented on how English colonizers put others first and thought about the people they colonized and trained them so that they were left with skills. Therefore, former English colonies are more developed now than Portuguese colonies.

I don’t agree with the statement that English colonizers put others first, but I do think there is some truth to how the British and Portuguese colonized Africa. Having never been to Portugal, I cannot comment on Portuguese culture, but the language-reflecting-culture topic is an interesting one to explore.

Those of you who speak other languages, do you have similar examples of differences between English language/culture and other language/culture?

I Use to Speak English April 15, 2009

Last week I did an English lesson on “gaps in knowledge” – reviewing grammatical errors that many of the students have been making in their writing and in their oral exam the previous week. One point that I really wanted to emphasize was the use of ‘used to’. I’ve noticed not only my English students but other English-speaking Mozambicans in my office and elsewhere who love to use this form but always use it incorrectly, but I had never been able to pinpoint the pattern of their error.

I spent some time explaining how ‘used to’ refers to something done regularly, over a period of time in the past but no longer. I drew diagrams showing, for example, a person who smoked in the 80s but doesn’t now in 2009. I demonstrated how I studied French in high school and college but no longer do. I gave lots of examples. They seemed to be catching on.

Then a student said, “What about when to use ‘use to’?” I pointed to the board and said, “That’s what we’ve just been discussing.” He said, “No, not ‘use-ed to’ but ‘use to’, the present form.” To clarify that I understood him correctly, I wrote ‘use to’ on the board and asked him if that’s what he was saying. He said, “Yes, to refer to what I do habitually now.” He gave an example: “If I smoke now, I use to smoke.” I crossed out ‘use to’ on the board and said, “No, this is not correct in English. There is no present form of ‘used to’. ‘Used to’ is a specific phrase that only refers to the past.” Most of the class looked at me as if I were lying to them. The student who asked about the present form insisted, “But my teacher in secondary school explained that ‘used to’ refers to something you did habitually in the past and ‘use to’ refers to something you do habitually now.” It was one of those moments that occurs frequently in Mozambique where I want to scream, not at the person speaking to me because he cannot be blamed for his ignorance, but at those out there teaching incorrectly. I also wanted to laugh. It was hard not to, as this student was so serious and so insistent about using the present tense of ‘used to’.

I still don’t think anyone believed me that ‘use to’ doesn’t exist. It was too much radical information for them to take in after years of being taught one way, a bit like first learning that Santa Claus doesn’t exist. In Mozambique, I use to challenge commonly held beliefs.

Yummy?? February 9, 2009

I once explained to my former assistant that pronunciation often doesn’t matter in English, but sometimes it really makes a difference. For example, it doesn’t matter if someone asks me, “Howah yoo?” or calls me Seestah Jen, but it does make a difference when he calls his exams ‘testes’.

On Saturday I was browsing the cakes at Clube Nautico and asked what a particular brownish tart-looking thing was. The server told me the name in Portuguese. I said (in Portuguese), “Yes, but what is it? What’s inside?” He said (in English), “Penis.” “Excuse me?!” I said. He repeated it very clearly in English, at which point my two English friends and I were giggling a little bit. Then he said, “Amendoim” (peanuts in Portuguese). “Aha,” I said, wondering what the Portuguese for ‘penis’ is so that I could correct him. But I’ve never needed to know that word. Realizing I couldn’t tell him what he was actually saying to us and why we were laughing, and realizing I didn’t really want to describe it to him, I simply leaned forward and said, “Pea-nuTS.” He repeated, “Penis. Chocolate penis.”

As tempting as it may have been, I did not order a slice.

Hope Part 1 December 5, 2008

Several weeks ago I had a conversation with my assistant about the then upcoming elections that went like this (yes, in English):

Me: Do you think there will be violence with the elections?

Him: (very matter-of-factly) Yes, I hope so.

Me: You hope so??

Him: Yes, I hope there will be violence.

Me: (Unsure if he understood me correctly) You hope there will be VI-O-LENCE??

Him: Yes, I hope so.

Me: Violence???

Him: I mean, I don’t want there to be violence, but there normally is, so I expect there will be some this time.

Me: Ahhh, you expect there will be. ‘Hope’ means that you want it to happen.

Him: No, no, no!! I don’t want it to happen!

We then continued discussing the difference between ‘hope’ and ‘expect’. I realized later that his confusion lay in the meaning of the Portuguese word esperar which means ‘to wait for; to hope; to expect’.

And isn’t that what hope really means? To wait for, with expectancy. Yet in English we use it synonymously with ‘wish’ or ‘desire’. We can even use it contrary to ‘expect’: I hope Candidate A will win, but I expect Candidate B actually will. However, when we talk about ‘hopes’, it is used more like ‘expectations’: Don’t get your hopes up, you’ll only be disappointed. We hope for the best but expect the worst.

So I ask myself, in all this confusion and even in correcting my assistant, do I really understand what ‘hope’ means? I should by now, after 30 years in the Church, 30 years of celebrating Advent. I roll around a couple sentences in my head, trying out which one best fits what hope should mean: I hope Jesus is coming; I expect Jesus is coming. Neither one, in our common English usage, fits what I want it to mean. If I say, “I hope Jesus is coming,” people might say, “But He is! Don’t just hope it, believe it.” But to say, “I expect Jesus is coming,” sounds devoid of emotion, devoid of any excitement.

I’m expecting… Pregnant women say this. I don’t know what that kind of waiting and hoping for is like, but I imagine it’s probably the closest type of hope that we should experience toward Jesus. Certainly it’s what Mary felt, as she waited for Jesus. But I am not a mother, so what can I compare it to?

When I was nine-going-on-ten, living in Oman, my family planned to go back to the States for a three-month furlough at the beginning of the new school year. I saved every baiza of my allowance for one year to buy a black ten-speed Huffy with hot pink handlebars, seat, and pedals when we got to Orange City, Iowa. For a whole year, that bike was so clear in my mind, and the thought of riding a ten-speed to school compared to a kids’ banana seat bike was exciting and motivating to me in a way that nothing else ever had been. (That’s when I learned the value of saving money.) I always loved going to Orange City anyway and riding bikes all over town and to the public pool with my cousin in the summers. Weeks before we left Oman, I started envisioning myself riding the black and pink bike along Orange City’s streets. The closer we got to our departure date, the clearer my visions became, and the harder it was to wait. That was hope; that was expectation.

Perhaps when I can use ‘hope’ and ‘expect’ and ‘expecting’ and ‘wait’ together, that is when I catch a glimpse of what Advent hope really means.

Day 14 September 10, 2008

Today is Day 14 of dealing with Immigration. Yesterday I was told to bring in photocopies of my receipt from the Ministry of Labor for my work permit paperwork, my contract with Oasis, and my criminal background check. I cringed at that. (Remember all the drama concerning my criminal background check?) I said I didn’t understand why I needed to submit more copies when they already had copies of everything on file. They explained that, well those are filed away and if we bring in copies it will “speed up the process”.

For some reason, I don’t have copies of the translations of my criminal background check or of the affidavit from the embassy. What I did with them or why I never made copies is beyond me! So my team leader and I went this morning with copies of everything I do have. Jill explained to Mr. Secretary that I don’t have copies of the translations because they’re on file there at Immigration. Once again, we were told to come back later, in the afternoon for a response about whether or not I may renew my visa.

You know where this is going. I returned alone in the afternoon, only to be told that it still hadn’t been authorized and to – altogether now! – come back tomorrow.

I’m tired. I’m feeling really worn down from all of the back and forth with seemingly no end in sight. And it’s completely out of my control. All I can do is ask my questions, then smile and say thank you each time they tell me, “Amanha” (tomorrow).

At the end of the day, as I was leaving the office, João and I chatted for a bit about my Mozambican family, whom I was on my way to see, and continents (yes, world continents – apparently in Europe and Africa children are taught that North and South America are one continent called America). At the end of our conversation, he told me my Portuguese was improving. Really? Thanks! As a comment just for a laugh, I said it was because of all the conversation practice I was getting from walking to Immigration with him everyday.

As I walked down the street, I realized my parting comment was actually true. My Portuguese has improved in the past couple weeks. I find it rolling off my tongue more easily, not having to think as hard about verb conjugations, and often even thinking in Portuguese. I attribute this to spending about an hour a day with João, whom I have always appreciated as a great conversationalist. Unlike many Mozambicans, he brings up interesting points and asks a lot of questions. He also patiently explains things to me by slowing down his speech or rewording sentences and encourages me to find different ways of explaining myself when I get stuck instead of giving in to my temptation to find someone to translate.

Then it hit me that this is exactly what I’ve been praying for for months! I’ve been so frustrated since I’ve been here that I’m not learning Portuguese more quickly and easily because I spend all day every day in front of a computer, doing work in English, and interacting with colleagues who all want to practice English. I was taking two hours of lessons a week and one hour of conversation practice but have stopped both of those due to a heavier workload. (Besides with my conversation partner, I felt like I was paying her to be my friend, and it wasn’t actually helping my conversation much at all.) I bought a TV antenna to watch local news but continue to think of other ways to regularly be engaged in Portuguese.

Then in all my frustration with Immigration, I’ve completely missed the gift presented to me of regular Portuguese conversation! It’s not how I would have answered my prayer, but obviously I couldn’t answer it otherwise I would have. I can’t imagine another way that I would have improved as much I have recently. How well God knows us! What a great sense of humor He has too.

Apparently Jen Is Rude August 31, 2008

“Jen, when we go to Immigration on Monday, let me do the talking,” is what João told me on Friday after we had gone to find out Mr. M’s decision concerning my visa renewal. I had gone up to the desk to ask Mr. M if he had my passport. He started yelling at me: “It’s not ready! I told you to come back Monday! It’s not ready now! Come back Monday!” He had clearly told us “tomorrow” on Thursday. But I wasn’t going to argue, so I thanked him and we left.

That’s when João told me I was rude. Oh, he said it nicely, and he explained why, but that was the gist of it. He said my manner of speaking caused Mr. M to respond to me the way he does. João acknowledged that I’m just learning Portuguese and don’t know these things. He explained that in Portuguese there are more rules than in English and that it’s important, when approaching an official, to use a lot of “sir”, “I’m sorry”, “excuse me”, “if you please”, etc. The thing is, I know most of this intellectually, but humbling myself in such a manner when I’m so frustrated with these Immigration officials is another matter. But I can work on it. And I really appreciate that João felt comfortable enough explaining everything to me in a patient, understanding way. Not many people would do that.

Tomorrow, hopefully, with João doing the talking, we will finally get some answers about my visa. Hopefully I will still be allowed to stay here.

Lost in Translation May 27, 2008

Of course preaching on Sunday could not go as planned. (I’ve been in Mozambique long enough to know that.) I arrived at the church early and was surprised when the service started with Jorge absent. He is usually punctual, and I worried that I had misunderstood where we were supposed to meet. When he finally arrived fifteen minutes into the worship time, he told me that my translator, who had confirmed the night before, had not shown up and was not answering his phone. Somehow that didn’t surprise me. Not because it’s like the translator to do that, but because this is Mozambique. Then Jorge said, “But you can do it in Portuguese.” Realizing six days earlier that it would have been more effort than it was worth to plan a sermon in Portuguese, I had told him early in the week that I’d be willing to preach if there was a translator. Had I known there might not be a translator, I would have put in the effort to plan at least a short, simple message in Portuguese! He tried to convince me I really could do it in Portuguese. I looked over my notes. No, I really couldn’t translate myself. He talked to the pastor’s wife who then came over and tried to convince me herself that I could do it in Portuguese. I calmly said, “I can converse in Portuguese, but I can’t preach in Portuguese.” But inside I was screaming, “Stop making me feel guilty for not being able to preach in Portuguese this morning! You promised me a translator! Why don’t you preach?”

While everyone else was singing, I looked over my notes to see what I feasibly could do in Portuguese. I finally decided that, with Jorge’s help, I could lead a Bible study discussion instead on the same passage. Thankfully before I announced that, Jorge, who had been outside talking to the pastor’s wife, returned to tell me that she was going out to bring a translator for me.

About half an hour later, after much lively singing and dancing, I looked up to see a Brazilian missionary friend of mine walking in the door. He had an amused look on his face that said: This better be good!

Indeed it was. Once he was there, the preaching went smoothly. I definitely am not a Mozambican preacher. I never shout, never utter an Hallelujah or Amen, and actually use notes. But I taught a song which included wiggling down to the floor and jumping up again, I had people standing then sitting during the message, and only one person fell asleep. Plus, people thanked me at the end and even invited me back.

Later that day I was sharing my experience with a Swedish missionary friend. He told me how he was preaching once in Portuguese, which was then being translated into the local dialect. He decided to be funny at one point and switched into Swedish for a sentence. And the translator, without skipping a beat, continued to translate into the dialect! At least with English to Portuguese, I know if it’s my words that are being communicated.

Tall and Skinny May 22, 2008

What physical characteristics do Americans usually use to describe other people? For example, recently I was meeting a former Peace Corps volunteer at a local café and sent her a text saying I had blond hair and glasses. That’s enough here to describe myself to another expat. I might have added that I have long blond hair.

When I first arrived in Beira, I found myself using hair characteristics to describe people. Of course I can’t use hair color because everyone has the same hair color, but I would say something like, “Oh that girl with long fine braids?” I soon realized that that meant nothing because hairstyles change so frequently. That same girl might, the next day, have her braids out and have short frizzy hair.

In the absence of being able to use hair color or length or even height since I find Mozambicans are all pretty much the same size (with the occasional really short or really tall guy), other descriptions are used. I discussed this with a missionary family who I had dinner with the other night. They have a 7-year-old daughter and 9-year-old son. I know the daughter from teaching Sunday school but hadn’t really spent any time with the son. During dinner he said to his sister, “You’re right. Tall and skinny.” Their mom said, “They’re referring to you. Katie described you to Peter since he couldn’t picture who was coming to dinner.” I said, “Wow, you think I’m tall? Thanks!” “Yeah but,” their mom said, “Remember that Katie’s short.” Then Peter said, “But I pictured you with a long rectangular face, but you actually have an oval face.” I don’t think I’ve ever been described in such detail before. My hair color didn’t factor in at all. Even though these kids are American, they’ve grown up in other cultures and have learned to distinguish other characteristics.

“Skinny” and “fat” are perfectly acceptable descriptors here. I mean perfectly acceptable to describe to the person’s face. I once had an amusing conversation with my former Portuguese tutor about cultural differences in usage of the word “fat” since we have a mutual friend at Oasis who is known as João Gordo (Fat John) to distinguish him from the other João on our staff. (Note: By American standards João Gordo is not the least bit fat, but by comparison to all the skinny guys around here, I can see why they call him that.) I explained that in my country you would never call someone fat. He said, “But what if they are fat?” I said, “Even if they weigh 300 pounds, you would never say that.” That made absolutely no sense to him. If someone’s fat, you call them fat. If someone’s skinny, you call them skinny.

It’s interesting and sometimes challenging to look at people in a different way. How would you describe your friends or family if you couldn’t mention hair color, length or style but felt free to use “skinny” or “fat” or “short” or any other descriptive word that we shy away from for fear of offending?

Sugar Water Prawns May 11, 2008

I know I say many strange things in Portuguese, especially when I’m translating directly from English which often doesn’t translate correctly.  I probably sound a bit like Colin Firth at the end of Love Actually.  What’s funny, though, is when I understand the direct translations of Portuguese into English.  Here are two funny examples:

After International Women’s Day, one of my colleagues said to my housemate, “I need to say happy birthday to you for yesterday.”  What he meant to say was “congratulations”, but in Portuguese parabens, which means “congratulations” is used for “happy birthday”.

Then the other day this same colleague and I were talking about prawns since we passed a vendor selling absolutely enormous ones.  I asked if they were from the sea (knowing that river prawns are also sold).  He said, “I don’t know if they are from salt water or sugar water.”  Here they say agua doce (sweet water) to mean “fresh water”.

English Day May 7, 2008

Today is “English day” in the office.  Yesterday the new administrative assistant came into my room to tell me he wants to learn English.  I said, “NO!  Everyone wants to learn English.  No one speaks Portuguese with me.  I need to learn Portuguese.  You don’t need to learn English.”  He told me I could speak Portuguese with the guys one my team.  I explained that only one of them doesn’t try to practice English with me and that’s only because when he told me he also wanted to practice English, I told him I refuse and will only speak Portuguese with him.  Actually, I have finally put my foot down with my team and respond now in Portuguese to their English and always try to ask questions in Portuguese.  But yesterday I realized that the administrative assistant really should know English since he is dealing with lots of different people in the office.  So we agreed that we’d alternate English and Portuguese days.

But I’m frustrated that my Portuguese practice seems to be decreasing.  The frustrations about language learning are compounded by my frustrations in general that I spend all my time sitting behind a desk.  I’m not an office person.  I’m a teacher.  I’m a mover and a shaker.  I learn and work by interacting with people, not by interacting with a screen.  And I want to learn this language!  How can I learn a language that I need in order to function well in this environment if I sit behind a computer all the time?  And especially if the handful of people I do interact with on a daily basis always speak English with me???

I need to vent a little.  Expect further posts on my current frustrations and feelings of purposelessness.  And if I’m feeling a little less in the depths of despair, I might post about my gorgeous weekend in Tofo diving with manta rays.