Can you see what I'm saying?

I sign 'yes' like I say 'yebo' (Zulu) and 'ewe' (Xhosa) and 'ja' (Afrikaans). Multilingual confusion but it all make sense. In my head at least.

I'm loving working with the Deaf. Just loving it. It's incredibly humbling to be on the bottom of the linguistic food chain again but it's so thrilling when I can sign something and be understood! My colleagues are overwhelmingly accommodating and kind and thankfully can lipread English so it's not as difficult if we had no languages in common. But I'm determined to learn as quickly as I can and not rely on what is called, Total Communication, where you sign in Sign Language but speak (to yourself) in English. It's a bit silly that people do this really, since you're actually communicating in two different languages at once which is impossible if you think about it. One language has to take the dominant role and unfortunately for your Deaf conversation partner, it will be English. But people do this for other Hearing people also involved in the conversation and also for the Deaf to lipread. For myself I do it because I still think in English rather than think in Sign Language. But I'm getting there.

It's also a bit of a total mind shift to work only with my hands to communicate. My language learning skill - mimicking - is not getting used as much. Now it's more deliberate copying than mimicking. I'm not sure if that's a real distinction but that's how it feels to me. It's not such an intuitive aural mirroring. I regularly get confused with my left and right as well as placement of my hands. I can manipulate my voice more easily.

I have about 50 pieces of vocabulary that I can sign and 50 more that I can understand. I can follow a (very!) simple conversation if I know the topic first. And after watching the translators practice Mark 7:31-37 and Mark 2:1-17 over and over and over and over and over and over again, I'm pretty familiar with those stories!

We have long and intense conversations about all sorts of linguistic and theological issues. What is faith? Why doesn't God heal me of my deafness? What kind of head coverings did Pharisees wear? What were the house roofs made of in Capernaum? Were the tax booths like the little huts that security officers use at the entrances to housing estates? How far is Tyre from Sidon from the Decapolis from the Lake of Galilee? And their respective elevations?

I'm so grateful that Shiri loves her babysitter so that I can work with the Deaf on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. It's a hard balance to maintain being a full-time mum and a part-time translation consultant. I did try to bring Shiri along to work since the Deaf wouldn't be able to hear her cry anyway (they didn't mind!) but it didn't work out. She's happier at home where she can run amok and have her babysitter sing to her German as they walk to the beach. Shiri is growing strong and healthy and is a wonder to behold. What a blessed privilege to be a mum. I love it.

Next step

My Heart's Desire from Wycliffe Global Alliance on Vimeo.

In a few short days I'll be beginning my work with the South African Sign Language Bible translation project. This is both thrilling and terrifying. Right at this moment I'm thinking, 'Who will look after my baby?', 'What on earth do I have to offer to the Deaf community?', 'I never, ever in my wildest dreams thought I'd be learning a Sign language - can I even do that?', 'Arghgh! I need to revise all my Greek and Hebrew paradigms!', 'Must. Read. More'. You know. Stuff like that.

It's all a wild ride of unknowingness, murkiness and glimpses of light along the way - both for me and for the translators as they better understand the Bible, better understand Jesus' love for them and how to best explain that truth to their community.

I'll be working alongside an expert translation consultant from DOOR (Deaf Opportunity OutReach) to continue my consultancy training but this time instead of the orality of the Fwe in Zambia I'll be delving deep into the 'orality' of the Deaf community of South Africa. Yep, another oral language in the sense that it's not 'written down'. Words really fail us here since Sign Language is, of course, not 'oral' but it's not written down with letters and words so the only alternative in the current nomenclature is 'oral'. It's weird to say that though...

We'll be starting off by translating 110 Bible stories that have been carefully selected to tell the whole story of the Bible. The end goal, is of course, the whole thing but by working bit by bit we can share parts of the Bible more readily with the Deaf community. The Bible portions produced will be on a DVD with an actor signing the story and behind them will be storyboards depicting more about the story. You can have a look at some Bible stories already completed here: Deaf Bibles.

I'm working with four native speakers of Sign Language: Richard, Agnes, Thabo and Christopher. It'll be an incredible journey to get to know them better, to learn Sign Language and also to see Jesus transform the lives of the Deaf here in South Africa.

The Fwe are still near and dear to my heart. They always will be. I hear snippets about their progress now and then and I'm so glad to know that they have a consultant who loves them and is working with them to continue the translation of the Gospel of Luke. I miss that work dreadfully. Maybe one day God will make it possible for me to go back to Zambia but for now Shiri needs me front and centre (literally - she's still being breastfed!).

I haven't posted much about motherhood. I'll tell you what, though, it's awesome. It's frustrating. It's rewarding. It's confusing. And it's the best thing I've ever done in my life.

Just before I gave birth I heard a guest at George Whitefield College that becoming a mother was the best thing she had ever done and nonsense from the feminist camp about it destroying yourself was 'bloody stupid'. I didn't understand. But now I do. Being a mum is awesome.

/eating crow. lots of it.

Taking Stock

Sometimes you just have to stop. Think. And then wonder out loud, 'What the heck am I doing'? We recently had our annual pastoral visit from our mission agency in Australia. We had to fill out a 10+ page questionnaire beforehand which was actually a good chance to just take stock. What are we doing? Where are we doing it? Is it working? Should we be doing something different? Is this what we expected? Are we ok? No, really, are we ok? Or are we just telling people we're ok and in actuality we're floundering?

And most importantly, are we being faithful to God?


Actually. I take that all back.

Sometimes you just have to stop. Think.

God is faithful. No matter what. No matter what I'm doing. No matter if what I'm doing is working. No matter if what I'm doing is what I expected. Or even if it's not. No matter if I feel like I'm ok or if I feel like I'm floundering.

God is faithful.

My babatjie

I'm in love. I feel like a teenager with fluttery feelings in my tummy. I miss her when I don't see her for a while. I cover her face in kisses when we see each other. I talk incessantly to her (not with her just yet!). I tell everyone how awesome she is. All. The. Time.

Yes, our little daughter arrived on 27th August. Shiri Abigail. Our sweet little daughter's first name is Hebrew for 'my song' from Psalm 28:7, and her second name also has a Hebrew meaning: 'my father's joy'. She brings so much joy and light and happiness to us. We're like love-sick puppies desperate to spend as much time with her as possible. Hanging off her every gurgle and snort. Yes. She snorts. Like a pig. And she sneezes in multiples - like her father.

I had never dreamed to feel this way. Never. The love, the overwhelming feeling of responsibility and expectation. Who is she? What will she do? What will she like and hate? What will make her smile?

It's comforting to know that God already knows. God has already pre-ordained every breath she takes and every day she lives. The name we took so long to choose for her was already chosen by God and will be the name she will have for all eternity.

Hello World. Welcome Shiri.

Savvy?

One of the things that I've struggled with over the past year is language learning. And not in the classic missionary sense of struggling to make myself understood when buying tomatoes down the road at the local market. I mean, I haven't done any. And I'm sad about that. And disappointed.

Learning languages has always been this incredibly fun game for me. I remember the day I came home after having my very first German lesson in year 6. I had learnt how to count and thought it was marvellous fun.

(I should note here that despite being bicultural I'm not bilingual. My mum never taught us any Tagalog/Filipino or any of the other Filipino languages that she knows. She made the very firm decision to bring up her children knowing English perfectly and for her that meant no other languages at home.)

I studied German and Japanese concurrently throughout high school then majored in Spanish at university while continuing my German and Japanese. I took a little bit of Russian after I came back from a mission trip to Azerbaijan because I wanted to go back and work as a missionary in Eastern Europe.

It was fun. It was always fun. I had a language partner for Japanese and we would meet up and eat lamingtons and talk about the Japanese school system. I watched German movies. I made grammar games to teach other people Spanish grammar. By the end of my degree I wasn't fluent or anything like that but I still enjoyed the process. I never enjoyed being pushed to memorise things but I liked being able to understand and have a good guess at what was going on in the other language.

Studying Koine Greek and ancient Hebrew at Moore was exceedingly painful. Learning a dead language is completely different to learning a language you can mimic, watch TV in and generally interact with the associated culture. It's not even nearly the same. Plus I really dislike learning grammar. It was a challenge to fall in love with languages again the year after Bible college but teaching English to overseas students helped me to see the beauty of language and culture again and I was pumped to get overseas and be drenched in that sort of linguistic messiness.

I always assumed that when I eventually did become a missionary I'd fulfil a lifelong goal of becoming fluent in another language. I didn't really care what language. Although I do have an aversion to French. It just sound yuck. Sorry to all the French speakers out there!

In our plans to move to South Africa I was really excited to learn Xhosa once we arrived. The language has clicks, for goodness sake! How much more fun is that!? Or maybe perhaps I'd learn some Afrikaans. I thought I'd definitely learn Fwe since I'd be training the translators in Zambia. Maybe even Lozi, the lingua franca of the Western Province in Zambia. Why not?

But then we got here. And everyone speaks English. The necessity to learn a language didn't exist in Cape Town. Even in Zambia everyone got along just fine in English. And like everyone else, I'm lazy. If I don't need to do it but do need to do other stuff, then of course the unnecessary gets pushed aside.

But this makes me sad.

The language learning process we'd been encouraged to use strongly advocated a language partner to meet up with and practice with. I haven't found one although I do try to immerse myself in Afrikaans at work each day especially with my immediate colleagues who speak Afrikaans as their mother-tongue. But I only know two people who speak Xhosa. I don't interact with anyone really who speaks Zulu nor is there any need at all to speak Zulu in Cape Town (I would if I lived in Durban). I don't need Fwe or Lozi anymore since I've had to put my Zambia trips on hold because of the baby.

I can't blame it all on the situation. I am a lazy bugger when it comes to language learning. No classes/exams = no accountability. No books = no system. No need = couldn't be bothered.

That all being said, I do understand a bit of Afrikaans now. I can't say anything particularly useful but I can pick up contextual clues and mix them with the vocab I do have and have a guess what's going on around me.

New goals? Be a good mum. Do the work I have in front of me with regards to new opportunities in Bible translation. Continue my work with the Explore correspondence programme at GWC. Buy an Afrikaans grammar book and learn something every day.

Ick

I love traveling. I really do. I love seeing new places. Tasting new foods. Learning bits and pieces of new languages. I love watching how people interact and finding out what is taboo and what is normal.

I think, initially, my wanderlust was born from a deep desire to escape all the messed up feelings from when I was much younger. I wanted to move, move out, move away, move afar, move anywhere. Now I see I was the same person away as I was at home. But it’s human to think that a new place is a new chance. The only problem is that you inevitably bring yourself whenever and wherever you move. (Understanding this piece of navel-gazing revelation is probably why I really resonate with Alain de Botton’s ‘The Art of Travel.’)

The only thing I just cannot cope with wherever I am, but particularly in places where my appearance makes me stick out, is the unwanted attention from men. Now, don’t hear me wrong. I’m not fooled into believing that men will fall at my feet in every country I visit, and honestly, they don’t. But I have received my fair share on uncomfortably stares, full body leers (I mean the ones where the imbecilic man looks at me from head to toe and then back up again), wolf-whistles, really gross sexual comments, being cornered in between strange men on a street, and even a boob grab.
 
Please, please hear me out. Every Australian has in inbuilt sense of recognising when someone has tickets on themselves, so talking like this and raising this particular issue with me as the example, makes me self-conscious. But really, c’mon. Men are really feral sometimes. And I hate it. And it gets complicated when you’re in a cross-cultural situation. 

I have a pretty high level of cross-cultural tolerance. I’ll cope with a lot of strange, new, even uncomfortable situations quite happily self-placating my rising terror because I know ‘we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.’ Weather, food, dress, language, body language, physical and societal status. Nearly everything.

Except a guy with his hands down his pants leering at me.

Ok, ok. That only happened once. But I really have a very, very low tolerance for gross men. I find it hard to shake off sexual comments and stares. Some people have told me I’m just way too sensitive and probably mis-read signals. Others have told me that gut feelings in this particular area need to be heeded.  But I doubt anyone thinks that my reactions are godly, appropriate or helpful.
 
Because I’m not above giving a guy ‘the finger’, glaring, yelling, swearing, making smart-alec comments or all of the above, all at the same time.  I could just shrug my shoulders and say, ‘Meh, I’m human. I make mistakes’ but I’ve already had at least one person tell me that even if I thought that, it wasn’t appropriate to put it on the internet. That piece of advice obviously hasn’t changed my perspective but I will qualify the ‘meh’ statement.

I know that my over-reactions are over-reactions for a Christian. I’ve never been a victim of a serious sexual assault that would warrant an all out verbal and physical reaction. So I agree with all the voices in my head (well, the Holy Spirit really) who pricks my conscience about these actions. 

But how does one react in a culturally appropriate way?  I’ve been told in some situations it’s perfectly acceptable to yell and shout and berate the man for mistreating his ‘sister’ and how dare he shame her in public.  To not react this way would be to welcome the man’s advances, and actually would be indicating that you were a bit ‘easy’ and keen for more attention.

Glaring at a man in some other situations could get very dangerous, very quickly.

Is ignoring their bad behaviour the better option in most situations? Ignoring it makes me so angry sometimes. Chalking up their behaviour to cross-cultural differences makes me slightly less angry sometimes and even more furious other times.  I guess I react so strongly sometimes because to sweep their actions under the cross-cultural carpet avoids the fact that their behaviour is sin. To disrespect and mistreat a woman because she is a woman is sin, no matter the cultural expectations.

But what avenues are there to address their inappropriate actions in a way that is culturally understood?

Underprepared

The last two Bible translation workshops have been a dream come true. I've finally been able to use so much of my linguistics degree and my theological degree to help, enthuse and encourage a people group who've never written down their own language before. But at the same time I've been challenged about huge gaps in my knowledge both linguistically and theologically. I suppose this is just part and parcel when you move from the theoretical to the practical and actually work in the field you've been training for. It's been a wondrous ride to persevere in being more professional in my work and also remember that Christ's sacrifice and God's plan for the world is really at the heart of all I do.

Linguistically I've been thinking about practical fieldwork. At university I majored in sociolinguistics. At the time I didn't know the difference between the different linguistic fields but was fortunately able to get a taste of descriptive linguistics in my first year, when we briefly covered morphology, phonetics and semantics. During my first year I also did a week-long introductory course to linguistics with Wycliffe. This was a brilliant course and I'm so glad that I did. I was fully immersed in the practicalities of linguistic analysis, language learning and missionary work that I wasn't learning about at uni. But then for the next 4 years I was back to the politics of language, language status, language policies, conversation analysis, the relationship between language and identity, second language acquisition and in my final year, ESL teacher training. I had nothing to do with raw linguistic data and how to collect it, chart it and analyse it. Until now.

I realised how much I still had to learn when I trying to collect data for the beginnings of a Fwe dictionary and grammar. I actually had no idea how to do either. I had studied lexicography (dictionary making) in my fourth year at Moore College so I was familiar with the ideas of semantic domains. That seemed to be the most sensible way to make a dictionary because alphabetically work was impossible since their alphabet was still in draft form. Collecting data for a grammar was like nails on a blackboard. I've never been one for detailed grammatical analysis, and always resist grammar when doing language learning and even when doing language teaching. So I struggled to find patterns and come up with ways to elicit more information from the Fwe.

Theologically I realised that by simply saying, 'I'm a reformed, evangelical, Protestant' only made sense to other reformed, evangelical Protestants. Ecumenicalism is necessary when doing this kind of work since the Bible is denomination-less. But there *are* different denominations. To ignore the differences and say that 'we're all on about Jesus' is quite condescending in many ways. Celebrating differences can also be problematic when one denomination wants different things from different people to the detriment of team unity and team focus.

I think the best way is to really understand what you believe and know how to express it well. I've found numerous situations in which it's been oh, so, clearly, obvious that I'm the only one who thinks the way I think, and I need to explain myself to everyone else. Most times I fail. I then go to my bungalow, think, pray and read and come up with a better explanation that I wish I had known an hour previously. It's all growth, though. A little humiliating at times, but growth nonetheless. I am glad that I'm here again in Mongu but again feel like I'm underprepared and ill-equipped for this job. But I am also glad that God is in control, God is the one who directed me to this task and God is the one who will make all things work to his glory. All I have to do is be faithful and trust him.

Wuv, twu wuv. (Love. True Love)

I've always loved 50 First Dates. Right from the first time that I watched it, I recognised that it was the best Hollywood depiction of unconditional love. Seven Pounds, however, was the worst. Worst by far because it lures the viewer into believing that the actions of the main protagonist are born out of deep, pure love when it fact, they're not. Not at all.

If you haven't seen either, let me give you a brief run down

WARNING. SPOILERS AHEAD

50 First Dates is a love story between a woman, Lucy, who's lost her short term memory and a man, Henry, who has to woo her every day because she has forgotten their previous dates hence the title; each meeting is a first date for the woman but certainly not for the man. Every day starts with a video reminder of the accident that caused her memory loss and that she is in a relationship with Henry. After the inevitable 'boy loses girl' part of the love story, Lucy eventually starts to form long term, subconscious memories of Henry, and the 'boy gets girl back' part begins. The movie ends with Lucy and Henry a few years later, married and with a little daughter. Lucy is still reminded daily through the video of her accident and her relationship with Henry.

Seven Pounds is about a man, Ben (he uses his brother's identity so really his name is Tim) who causes an car accident in which seven people die. He spends the rest of his life attempting to redeem himself by donating his own body organs (or money) to people. Seven people, in fact. He picks people or is told about people who need organs or help in some way and then conducts investigations to find out if they are worthy. He falls in love with his final organ donation recipient, Emily, but is determined to finish his mission. His final organ donations require his life so he commits suicide and his corneas and heart are donated. Emily receives his heart.

I found 50 First Dates profoundly biblical. Henry's love for Lucy is unconditional. Complete. And never ending. He choses her. Pursues her. Cares for her. Loves her. All of her flaws and even her inability to love him back do not dissuade him. Even at the very end of the movie, she is shocked to find out that she is married and has a daughter. This has meant years of unconditional love on Henry's side. Every day he's had to live with a woman who doesn't remember him and can't understand how she got to where she is.

I understand, of course, that some might view this as quite perverse and an abuse of power. The movie makes clear that there is something changing within Lucy to indicate that she is forming long-term memories of Henry but obviously not at the same rate that he is.

I think God loves us like this. Despite our sinfulness and complete inability to love him, God loves us. It was while were were still enemies that God saved us (Romans 5:10). We have all sinned and fallen short of his glory but it was at this time that God saves those who believe in him (Romans 2:23-24). God chose his children because of his love for them and gave them saving faith (Ephesians 1:3-5) Now I'm nailing my colours to the mast here because that was just a declaration of Calvinist predestination. I don't believe that because I love God I am justified from my sin. I believe that God loved me and so I am justified from my sin. His love for me is not conditional on my love for him.

Seven Pounds has its core that love and sacrifice should only be given to those people who are worthy. Those people who can prove that they will do good with their opportunities and privileges. Those people who deserve love and sacrifice. Ben's whole life is an attempt to atone for his own mistakes. His 'love' for his organ donation recipients is based on their worthiness. He only loves them to help his own need for atonement. At one point in the movie, Ben rejects a man who needed an organ donation because finds out that the man has been mistreating his clients in an aged care home. Ben decides that this man is not worthy of his donation. God doesn't love like that. We know that God loves murderers, drunks and thieves (1 Corinthians 6:9-11) as well as the hard-working doctors, parents and teachers. God's love is not based on our actions or our words. As much as it pains the world, God doesn't love only good people.

I know that you can't make clear cut parallels between movies and life, let alone biblical doctrine. But I was just struck by the polemical ideas of love between these two movies. I'm sure in the eyes of the world 50 First Dates portrays ridiculous love that is ultimately unrequited whereas Seven Pounds is probably seen as more rational - giving to those who deserve it. But I see it completely the opposite. True love is unconditional.

Friendship

Friends are funny things, aren't they? The last few years or so I've thought a lot about friends. What is a good friend? How do I ensure that I am a good friend? I can't really control what kind of friend people are to me but I can determine my actions towards them. I worry a bit about this because I'm such a homebody and love hanging out with my husband that I fear I don't put enough into friendships sometimes.

Moving to Cape Town we knew that the friendships we had with people in Australia had to move into a new way of operating. We also knew that part of our move was to create new friendships and new support networks in Cape Town. To straddle both countries wholeheartedly is too much to expect from anyone. Our move is with our whole selves and friendship is included in this.

The Fwe have a proverb about friendship:

Chizuba cha muenzo kansikwe.

Literally: Your friend's chest is darkness.

I know it's a rather dark perspective on friendship but I understand this proverb deeply when I think about some friends that I've had over the years. People that I thought I really understood but it ended up that I had absolutely no idea about who they thought they were.

It makes Jesus' friendship with me so much more precious. Jesus knows me completely. And with the Holy Spirit I know what I can know about Jesus completely. What I am meant to know, I know. What I am not meant to know, I don't know and it's for my own good. There's no hidden evil in Jesus. No hidden character flaw that will bring me grief at some point in my life. Jesus' chest is not darkness to me.

Kevin De Young's series on friendship was really encouraging to me.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

It helped me to think about the types of friends I've had in my life and also challenged me about the kind of friend I am. One of the greatest things that I've struggled with in terms of having and being a good friend is conflict. I've rarely had overt and verbalised conflict with friends. I'm too much of a people-pleaser and find it difficult to assert myself in potentially upsetting situations. But the friends with whom I have experienced conflict have fallen very clearly on either side of the fence: some are still close friends, others are not. That's painful because my people-pleaser self stresses that if only I hadn't said anything we'd still be friends - but what kind of friends when open conversation kills the friendship?

So, I'm determined then, to be a good friend and show those around me the unfailing friendship of Jesus.

(The owl picture reminds me of a fun conversation I had with a good friend. Sometimes there are things that make you smile that no one else gets - it's just for me and my friend.)

Mongu Musings

(Mercy proudly holding the first printed scripture in Fwe - the first printed piece of prose other than comments on grammar from the first booklet we printed in March.)

This blog post was written when I was in Mongu, Western Province of Zambia a few weeks ago. I completed my second workshop there with The Seed Company. The Fwe now have the first scripture translated into their language EVER! What a privilege! What a milestone! What an honour to be involved in this work.

So, I’m here in Mongu again doing work with the MaFwe, a tribe from the Western Province of Zambia who up until last March had never had their language written down. I’m working with the five MaFwe from last time: Mboozi, Mercy, Innocent, Cosmas and Orbet.

Since the last time we met the little booklet we produced has done its rounds in many MaFwe villages and has been very well received. It’s been wonderful to hear that since the written alphabet has been circulated people have started to pray publicly and preach in Fwe rather than in Lozi (the lingua franca) as they had done before. What a glorious response to God’s goodness in making provision for their language to be written down!

This workshop we have begun to work through translation principles including basic exegesis skills. We’re operating under a 80/20 rule: 80% of the time should be spent in preparation and study and the other 20% is actual translation.

It’s been a real joy to see how much the Fwe themselves are growing in understanding of the Bible as we read different Bible translations together as well as the Translator’s Notes provided by SIL which have been written specifically for mother-tongue translators. The Fwe say that even just this 3 week workshop will make them better preachers let alone turn them into translators.

(Innocent doing a 'back translation' - the translated text is translated again into English so that I, the consultant, can do exegetical checks).

We’ve given them an NIV, NLT, one Bible dictionary and one easy-to-understand regular English dictionary. We’ll also be providing a computer loaded with Paratext - some software that enables you to see a range of translations all on the screen at the same time, and a large number of extra exegetical helps such as commentaries, Translator’s Notes and other books.

It’s difficult for the MaFwe to get together between the workshops. It takes

at least 7hrs walking to get between the closest neighbours let alone the ones who live in a different district. I feel great compassion for them and really wonder how this will all work out. They are required to do translation between the workshops as well. By the next workshop in November they need to have translated Luke 2, 3, and 4.

Looking back now from back home in Cape Town, South Africa, I'm still in that fuzzy world of 'Did that really happen? Do the Fwe really have a little scripture booklet in Fwe for the first time ever?' It just seems so bizarre and yet when people ask me about the project I'm so matter of fact about it. It feels weird and normal at the same time. Of course I'm a Bible translation consultant. Yes, these 2 documents (the Reading and Writing booklet from March and the Good Samaritan translation from July) are the only printed document available in the world in the Fwe language.

(Cosmas, Innocent, Orbet, myself and Mercy holding copies of the Good Samaritan translation in Fwe. Mboozi is missing as he had to return home due to a family emergency.)

So the Fwe finally have the Good Samaritan translated into their language. They also worked really hard to produce a few more traditional stories ('A man, his dog and an antelope' - it's a ripsnorter!!) and a 20+ page beginnings of a semantic domain dictionary (topical dictionary).