ABDF

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

Hi everybody!

I had a good day today.  I also saw an old friend from the tsunami days.  His name is Kukasan.  Some of you may remember the story from last year; I had no way of contacting him the entire time I was here, but as I was getting onto the train to return to Colombo to come home, I heard him shouting my name.  So we did have a reunion, albeit for five minutes.  Since then he had broken his phone and has new one, so again I couldn’t get hold of him.  But a friend of Kukasans’ recognized me as I drove by a couple of days ago and told him that I’m back.  So this morning he paid a visit, and we exchanged phone numbers.  His English has improved hugely since the tsunami days and he has matured from an awkward teenager wanting to practice English to a grown man ready to start University.

This afternoon I went to see our seedling project.  As I had mentioned previously, flooding had prevented earlier visits.  The farm-cum-nursery is located some 20 km north of Batti, and to get there you have to cross two patches of seasonal wetlands.  It was these that were flooded.  As it was, we had to doff our sandals and roll up our pants and wade through knee deep water both times.  It was very green with water plants, and there were birds everywhere.  Tiny fish swam between our feet as we walked.

The first batch of seedlings, some 2,000 coconut palms, is coming along.  In fact they are growing so fast and strong, we estimate being able to transport them to the tsunami resettlement village in six months, not the projected eight.  The second and final batch of 2,000 is due to be planted in a couple of months.  I don’t know when they will get the mango and jackfruit seedlings.

The farm itself is an experimental one, specializing in growing local produce organically.  I was told by Murali, my lead co-conspirator on the seedling project, that the heavy use of fertilizers and insecticides has started to contaminate groundwater in Sri Lanka.  Familiar problem, eh?  Murali, an SFS member, is particularly interested in environmental issues, a rare person in Sri Lanka.

At any rate, this farm also grows a whole series of herbs and medicinal plants.  One of these is a spindly little plant called Nannary, the root of which is used to make tea.  I was brewed a cup by the man who works the farm and it was quite tasty.  Unfortunately, I can’t compare it to anything I’ve tasted before so I don’t know how to describe it.  There are no side effects whatsoever, so it isn’t used like jungle coffee.  The plant is reputed to have medicinal value, but I thought the flavor was good enough reason to drink it.  I will try to bring some home, and maybe you’ll be lucky enough to try it.

OK so now I thin it is time for me to explain the Tamil language, and perhaps explain all this odd spelling.  So first a brief lesson in Tamil linguistic history.

Tamil is a language of immense antiquity.  It can be considered one of the primeval, original, languages that developed.  It predates any living modern Western language, and almost all the old now-dead ones such as Latin and Etruscan.  It certainly predates our own Indo-Aryan language group, of which English, Latin, Greek, Hindi, Arabic, Bengali and Russian are just a few members.  Tamil itself is a numerically small language family, consisting of Tamil, Malayalam, and a few other smaller and widely scattered isolated languages in India.  Tamil, or the Tamil language family, is generally thought to be the original indigenous language family of the Indian subcontinent.  At some time in the very distant past, the Indo-Aryans tribes of Central Asia split in two and invaded.  One branch went west and settled all the way from Iran to Portugal.  The other branch invaded the Indian subcontinent, and largely displaced Tamil as the language there. Today Tamil languages are spoken in a few isolated areas of north and central India, but is still predominate in southern India and parts of Sri Lanka.  The fact that there isolated islands of Tamil languages found scattered about India is seen as one proof of this invasion. However Tamil remained, and is to this day, alive and well in the south of the subcontinent.

As I have said, Tamil is an ancient language.  It’s had maybe 5, 6, or 7 thousand or so years to evolve and develop. One result is a body of literature, both oral and written, so old and vast it’s considered one of the world’s great literary traditions. Back when Europeans were naked savages painting themselves blue and burning sacrificial victims in wicker baskets, Tamil poets were composing epic-length love poems.  Here’s a good comparison; Shakespeare wrote his plays some 500 years ago.  To the average English speaker, Shakespeare’s language is somewhat obscure and difficult.  By contrast, the average literate Tamil can read a 3,000 year old epic with few problems.

Another result of this great age is an elaborate alphabet.  There are 247 letters in the Tamil alphabet. I personally feel this is a bit excessive, but there is a logical reason for such a huge number of letters.  As you know, Chinese uses a symbol for each word and there is no alphabet.  In the west we use symbols for specific sounds (English has 26), and can combine letters to create new sounds.  Think “-ing” and “th-“ and “-ly” and “-au-.”  Tamil has taken this to the extreme opposite of the Chinese.  Rather than combine two letters to make a new sound, there is a letter for every sound.  Tamil has pure vowel sounds and pure consonant sounds, as we do, but they also have vowel-consonant letters as well.  The only Western equivalent I can think of is the archaic Æ that was once used for a few words such as Æsop, as in Æsop’s Fables.

So imagine some British colonial-era linguist, trying to figure out how to transliterate Tamil sounds into English letters.  Take for example, the “S” family.  In the West we have two basic S sounds: s and sh.  Try saying both sounds, and notice where your tongue touches your palate on each.  Well Tamil has several additional S sounds wherein the tongue touches parts of the palate between where we do.  The difference can be subtle, but are also obvious.  So for one of these in-between S’s, does our linguist write an “s” or an “sh”?  You can see the problems.  And there are still 246 letters to go.

To look at it another way, my friend’s name is Siva.  In reality, it isn’t pronounced with a long “s” as in the word “silly.”  Nor is it pronounced entirely like the “sh” in “shopping.”  To the western ear, the sound of his in-between “s” sounds closer to “s” than to “sh.”  Almost like “Tsiva” but for some reason we don’t like the way that looks.  So we write it with an “s.”  To further the confusion, I suspect our British linguist, as well as his colleagues, were sometimes random in assigning these sounds English letters.

I know this is a lot of detail, but I wanted to explain why some of the pronunciation looks so odd when you hear it.  So without further ado, for your edification and entertainment, are a few Tamil/English pronunciation tips:

In Sri Lanka, and India, if it is written with a “v,” they pronounce it as a “w.”  And vice-versa.  Think Dracula: “Velcome to my house.”  I don’t know why this happens as, unlike the Germans, they are perfectly capable of pronouncing both letters.  Example:  In Colombo, my friend is Jeewan, pronounced “Jeevan.”

Tamil doesn’t have a “th” sound, as in “this” or “that.”  I don’t know why the British decided this, but the “h” following the “t” represents an aspirated stop.  A more modern way of showing it would be “t’” as in the T’ang dynasty.  It sounds almost hard, like a “d” but not quite.  Thus my friend Bathsala’s name isn’t pronounced “Bath-sala.” Another example of the aspirated T is my friend Thiru.  Her name is pronounced “T’eeru.”

To continue with Bathsala, the “s” has any number of variations. Specifically her name has an “s” that sounds half way between a “sh” and a “ch.”  So I suppose that one could easy write her name “Bat’schala.”  But that looks awkward and is not the English linguistic way of spelling it.  So we stick to the traditional if ambiguous spelling of Bathsala and try to remember the pronunciation rules.

Tamil does have a soft “sh” sound, as in “shoe.”  Fortunately, it is spelled this way, so my friend Shantan’s name is pretty much pronounced as it is spelled.  The “sh” does not represent an aspirated sound, which for an “s” I don’t think physically possible, unlike the “th.”  But you see what I mean about those old linguists being a touch inconsistent.

I also think that Tamil speakers themselves are a little fast and loose with English transliteration.  For example, unless they are Christian (and then not always) children are given Tamil names.  Well, when they write the name on the birth certificate, they write in Tamil.  But when they are asked to fill out the name on an English form, then personal preferences come to play.  For example, two of the kids I taught to play Uno have the names of Darshikka and Dilakhan.  The “kk” and the “kh” are pronounced the same way.  So why two different ways of spelling it?  I have no friggin’ idea!

Personally, I find it easiest to learn the pronunciation verbally first, then ask to write the name or word out.

So these are the difficulties and confusions involved in cramming 247 separate letters and sounds into a 26-letter alphabet.  Of course native Tamil speakers see no contradictions and think all this is perfectly obvious and natural.

I hope you didn’t find this boring.  For me, these linguistic differences are fascinating.  They are an insight into the way a people conceptualize reality, which can tell you a lot about the culture. It’s one clue into why we think the way we do, and why they think the way they do, and the differences between us and them. I’m hardly a linguistics expert, but I still find it intriguing. I mean, is there a link between this elaborate all-encompassing way of conceptualizing speech, and Hinduism, with its thousands of gods, each representing a specific yet different aspect of the human experience?  (Hinduism was originally the Tamil religion and was later adopted by the Indo-Aryan invaders.) It seems to me that the thought processes behind both are very similar.  Makes one wonder…

While you’re ruminating on all that, I want to bring up one more, utterly fascinating linguistic fact/idea/thing.  It is the sound/word “OM.”  As many of you know, OM is drenched in Hindu meaning.  OM is frequently chanted during sacred mediation and at religious services. Virtually every Hindu prayer, in any language, starts with and ends with OM.  OM represents everything – IS everything – in the form of sound; the totality of existence, the past, present and future, even God.  It is considered THE sacred sound.

And it also means “yes” in Tamil.

Think about the implications for a minute.  In Tamil, when you give the simple answer of yes, you are confirming and acknowledging all reality, even God.  By the same token, when you say OM you celebrate the idea of all reality, including God, by using the simplest yet most powerfully positive word there is – yes.  What could be more positive, more affirming, more joyful than that?  Imagine if we in the West worshiped divinity by clapping our hands and shouting “Yes!” to the universe. Actually, I suppose that’s not a bad idea…

Geez, I just realized how very New Age-y that sounded.  But I think you understand what I mean.

It’s not like the average Tamil guy goes around thinking about existence every time he says yes to something.  Such implications probably don’t even occur to most people at all.  But I bet those ancient Tamil philosophers and sages understood it.

I seem to recall from university that the study of the deeper meaning behind words is called Semiotics.  Do I have that right?

Friday, April 4, 2008 (next day)

This morning I went to St. Cecilia’s girl’s school, the site of our English lab project, and where our donated books will end up.  I wanted to brief Sister Elizabeth, the school principle, in person the status of the project.  I like Sister Elizabeth.  She isn’t at all the doughty, intimidating figure that the stereotype would suggest.  She’s a very humble person, with a quick sense of humor.  Or maybe she’s just good at pretending to laugh at my jokes.  She is very shy about asking for help, firmly believing that God will provide.  Next week, it being the end of the school term, the school will be passing out small awards to the top students of each class in each subject.  She had trouble looking me in the eye when she asked if I could help pay for the little trophies.  It wouldn’t qualify as an ABDF expense, but I think I will try to give a little out of my own funds.  My own money is quite meager for a stay of 8 months, but I’d like to help, even if I can only give $10.

After the meeting I stayed behind and chatted with Kala’s class.  I had met the girls last year; they are sweet and adorable, and very eager to speak English.  Once again I fell in love with them.  I wish we could get some native English speakers over here to have conversation-type courses at the school; the girls would LOVE it. Even if someone were to volunteer, it would be more than the ABDF could afford.  Perhaps something for the wish-list.

Anyway, I’m sending two pictures with this email.  The first shows the farm caretaker tending some of our coconut seedlings.  The second is of Sister Elizabeth and me, taken just a couple of hours ago.  Enjoy!

xoxoxoxoxo

B.