Speaking in Tongues the hard way...

Tout le monde,

Speaking in tongues would come in real handy right now. Apparently, in early post-Jesus days, His disciples were given the instantaneous ability to speak fluently languages they'd never known before. Here we just struggle along hoping to understand a few words of what's said around us.

Chad has 130 languages and dialects and two official languages: French and Chadian Arabic.

Before coming, I felt if I could just learn French I'd be fine. Who wants to learn some obscure language anyway? Wrong...

Most of our staff speak a minimum of 5 languages including French, Arabic and a smattering of local languages. The dialects heard commonly if not daily at the hospital are Nangjere, Moundan, Foulb� and Ngambai.

Without Rahama I'm lost. I call a patient in. It's a Fulani woman. She is dressed in bright colored frilly blouse and wide skirt. She has dreads, a nose ring, and multiple leather pouch fetishes hanging around her neck. She carries a baby strapped on her back with another bright cloth that completely clashes but somehow seems right. Her husband is wearing a tattered light blue arabic robe with a white turban wrapped amply around his neck. I begin.

"Al salaam alekum"

"Wa alekum al-salaam"

"Inti af�?"

And then she spouts off in Foulb�. Her husband translates into Chadian Arabic, Rahama translates into French and hopefully I understand. Rahama has a gift of translation because she's done it long enough that she knows what I want and so if the person doesn't answer the question right instead of just translating she'll continue to clarify with the person till the answer comes to the question asked. With other translators it often turns into a long, painfully slow process of back and forth translation.

I go on rounds. I've heard certain things translated enough that I have picked up some key Nangjer� phrases. I approach a one and a half year old with Malaria. I ask the mom...

"Ba ma balou ga?" (Has he vomited, upchucked, heaved, honked, ralphed, lost his lunch, tossed his cookies, puked, blown chunks, or spewed?)

"Balou di" (None of the above)

"Ba ma sua kouba?" (Does he breastfeed?)

She responds with a nod and a click in the throat.

"Ka kang" (Any more IV fluids left?)

"Kang di" (There's nothing)

"Xalas, ma ere 'ya ba" (He's done with his treatment, he's discharged)

But then grandma comes in and starts to greet me in the long drawn out African style and all I can do is smile and say "lapia" over and over without understanding a thing.

Gueltir knocks on the door. He's arrived to give me my first official Nangjer� lesson. We open the songbook. I can sing a ton of songs but not understand a word. I think it's time to change. We start with the blessing at the front. It's only 4 short lines, but one hour later we have exhausted ourselves trying to help me understand it. The problem is that Nangjer� is so simple and grammatically different from English or French that they are used to translating the meaning of phrases but not words so I never really know what a word means. I made him tell me even if it didn't make "sense" or wasn't good English (our exchange is that Gueltir gets to practice his English). Our other hang-up today is that kà, ka, ka' and 'ka all have different pronunciations and meanings (at least he says they sound different...it's all one and the same to me).

Sarah and I learn languages differently. She learns by ear. She listens, hears, talks and learns...the way we all learn our first language when we are kids...but she may not be able to tell you why a certain thing is said a certain way...just like not everyone who speaks English can teach it. She has an amazing gift and already speaks Danish, English, German, Spanish and French fluently as well as a little Croation, Hebrew, Chadian Arabic and Nangjer�.

I, on the other hand, need books. I need to understand the structure and grammar, the why. That's why Nangjer� is so difficult. There are no books and no dictionary.

With Chadian Arabic I'm having more success. I've bought a book of grammar, a dialogue book and a dictionary. Three nights ago I found myself in the throes of exhilarated language study the kind of which I hadn't enjoyed since my three months in France at the language institute of Collonges.

I had looked up a word in the dictionary. That had it in several phrases. I saw another word I'd wanted to know the meaning of. I looked that up which sent me off to find out the meaning of two other words...etc, etc. I stayed up late with just a candle feeling the thrill of search and discovery. That's why that ending is there. That's what that phrase is they say all the time..."Marra wahid" means completely or till the end...ah ha! Yeah, it's sounds geeky, but when you love languages...

So, I'm starting to feel better. Maybe this speaking in tongues will come even if it is the hard way.

I'm back at work rounding on peds again. I'm feeling pretty cocky after my night with the Chadian Arabic dictionary and my first Nangjer� lesson with Gueltir. I approach the first patient.

"Ba ma balou ga?" Blank stare. Ok, no Nangjer�.

"Hu gai giddif?" Arabic maybe? Blank stare...

"Docteur," a nursing student ventures, "She only speaks Ngambai..."

I give up...

James