Life, Language, and Communication

As missioners, language is a keystone to understanding the people we live among and work with in our assigned mission areas. The culture and world views of a people can often be interpreted or enhanced through the linguistic forms they use. So, logically, as a missioner prepares for a new assignment, language study is usually a top priority. When the Peacebuilding Team was assigned to Kenya in 2006, we made the decision to begin our ministry first, and study Kiswahili as time and funds permitted, to give us an opportunity to weigh the needs of the people and which language was going to be most useful to us in East Africa. One of our reasons was the unique nature of our program, to work across a larger geographical area which would not necessarily share a common language. We opted to begin our work using English, and for the most part that has served us in our work in Kenya. Other than English, the language most commonly shared in East Africa is Kiswahili, yet its usage is varied in many regions, leading to the adage, “Kiswahili was born in Tanzania, grew up in Kenya, and died in Uganda,” Having Sia, a native speaker from Tanzania, on our team highlights the differences of its use in other countries as we encounter the people. Giang and I began studying Kiswahili sporadically after we arrived in Kenya with a private tutor. The major challenge of learning Kiswahili here in Nairobi is that so many Kenyans preferred to speak English with us because we are foreigners, or they are more fluent in English or their own tribal language than in Kiswahili. For that reason, Giang recently spent a month in Tanzania to purposely study and practice Kiswahili, and returned to us with a good grasp of the language.

Meanwhile I reflected further on my thoughts on language and shared experience. In my lifetime I have studied four languages other than my mother tongue, English. I studied Arabic as an academic course in college, and recognized then that my proficiency in the course was due to my sensitive ear. Later, as a volunteer in a Brooklyn inner-city parish, I studied Spanish. As I lived and worked in a predominantly Spanish speaking neighborhood, I became quite fluent in understanding the people as they spoke, but less able to respond in my own words in their language. I sat in an interview with a colleague in the parish and a mother seeking First Communion for her child. The woman expressed her plea, speaking Spanish and exuding the emotions behind her request. My colleague repeatedly told her that she had missed the deadline and First Communion would not be possible for her child. I sat listening intently to the woman and listening with my heart. She exclaimed to my colleague, “She understands me, why can’t you?!” My colleague retorted, “She doesn’t speak Spanish, how can she understand you?” It is true, I probably would have overlooked the administrations and allowed her child to receive First Communion, because we connected on a different level of understanding.

During my first mission assignment with Maryknoll, I lived in East Timor. The language I chose to study there was Tetum. At the time, it was spoken by about 80% of the Timorese people, had about 30,000 words to the vocabulary, and was forbidden in school and business by the Indonesian government that was in place when I arrived. Timor won their independence shortly after I arrived, and language became a challenge among many in rebuilding their country. Most of the educated adults spoke Indonesian, most of the farmers and villagers spoke Tetum or yet another mother tongue, the freedom fighters and resistance leaders now leading the country spoke Portuguese, and the United Nations personnel in East Timor used English. At any coordinating meeting in the village for development, five languages could be used, in order to include everyone’s voice in the discussion. I found that as I learned to speak and understand Tetum, I was welcomed more warmly by the Timorese people, who were surrounded by foreign aid workers and UN people who had no intention of learning their language. It was the teachers in the high school where I was assigned as director that taught me the finer nuances of their language and helped me speak fluently, because they needed me to understand them and their interactions among them, so that I could be an effective leader for them. It was the deeper connection of the people wanting me to understand them and my wanting to be welcomed that enhanced my understanding of their language. Even today, on the other side of the world, sometimes I still think in Tetum.

So I wasn’t surprised a few weeks ago when I attended a forum of women on Transitional Justice, and had a deep understanding of what was being shared, whether the women used English or Kiswahili. Kenya was rocked by post election violence in January 2008, which was symptomatic of a cycle of violence and injustice that has affected this country since before their independence in1963. With the National Accord signed in February, 2008, healing, reconciliation, and reformation has become the agenda, being slowly implemented by the government and civil society. The women at this forum were there to share what they had experienced during the violence and what they now felt needed to be done to prevent the violence from happening again. I am far from being able to understand much Kiswahili as it is spoken, but that day I understood as the woman told in Kiswahili of her experience of being dragged off the street and burned by an angry mob, although she herself did not claim any political affiliation. At a deeper level, I also understood she had found healing. From her heart, I heard the voice of a survivor, and one who wants to reach out to others to create unity instead of division.

I have shared life with the people here in Kenya, and we have shared experience. This leads to a deeper level of understanding beyond words, beyond language. Language is important and will enhance this deeper connection. But today, I am not sure there is an ordered priority of learning language or experiencing life together that leads us to connect with other people. I think both are valuable so I will pursue my own purposeful time of study and practice of Kiswahili, but I don’t feel that I have lost anything without it in the years I have lived here in Kenya so far.