Jody is a Sitting Debbo

One Hundred Ninety Two pages of Pulaar. That’s the number of pages in my well-worn, green notebook that I filled with Pulaar notes. As I crack open another new notebook, this time with 288 pages and a map of Senegal on the cover, I wonder how well I’ll be able to communicate in Pulaar at the end of this notebook. I’ve said it many times, but with every lesson it becomes more clear, learning a language is like playing with building blocks. One word builds on another and another until a phrase is formed. Phrases build into paragraphs, which give way to complete ideas, and finally communication is the result. It may seem a small victory, but I can tell you that a man is standing, sitting, walking, running, laying, stopping, arriving, and jumping…….in Pulaar.

This is significant to me because it means I’ve managed to learn, not only words, but entire phrases this week. I have a terrible memory so I’m always on the look out for new ways to improve that aspect of my language-learning journey. Word association is one of my favorite methods because it allows me to build a picture in my mind on which to attach new vocabulary. In the GPA language-learning process the first step is to learn simple vocabulary and then build on those words by putting them to action in phrases. 

In my lovely, green notebook there is a picture of a stick figure woman wearing an A-line dress, with two little swoops of hair on either side of her head. Can you picture her? In my head I hear the word “debbo” (woman), when I see this little lady. Next, I see the stick figure woman sitting on a stick figure chair. The verb “to sit one’s self” is “joodaade”. The phrase “the woman is sitting” in Pulaar is "Debbo oo ko joodi.” This is where my imagination and word association kicks in, because I have a very good friend named Jody, which is exactly how “joodi” is pronounced. So now, I have my friend Jody sitting in this stick figure chair, and voila, I can remember the verb to sit, “joodaade”, in Pulaar.

It’s a complicated process if it isn’t hatched out of your own noggin. For example, my husband was learning the word “fotde” which means, “to be equal” in Pulaar. Well, in Wolof the verb “foot” means to wash laundry, so he imagines equal loads of laundry waiting to be washed! Crazy, but it works.

I’m off again, into my imaginary world of vocabulary drawings. Till next time…….

Practice Makes Perfect......Humiliation

Communication is the goal of this language learning adventure, and all adventures have their twists and turns. Some days when I return home from my trek into the jungle of language practice I return without a scratch. The phrases slip off my tongue with ease, and I receive praises for my hard work. There are, however, the wounds of language practice that still sting days after they were inflicted. That sounds so dramatic, but deep in that jungle, when your words are jumbled and your thoughts are lost, the language adventure is not fun or exciting. Those are usually the times when communication is crucial and failure to be understood is discouragingly frustrating.

For now, I'm sticking to the outer edge of that jungle where I can still laugh at myself when I make mistakes. For instance, the other day I was visiting with the lady on the corner who sells fruit. I love to speak Wolof with her because no matter what I say, she thinks it's wonderful. As I was buying apples, another lady approached and greeted us in Pulaar. You can imagine my delight at a chance to practice! However, after the greeting, this woman began a long, lightning fast tirade that left me in the dust. Aside from recognizing a word here or a sound there, I had no idea what she said. Finally the Pulaar speaker turned to go and my fruit selling friend just laughed and said "she is crazy!" At least it wasn't just me.

My next stop was the butcher who is a Pulaar speaker. I was eager to try out some new phrases I had learned, so I swung right into the jungle with greetings. I hit my first stump when he asked me about my husband and I thought he meant my work (there is just a one vowel difference). Continuing down that same path, I asked about his husband (meaning work), and of course I received  a very confused looked. I earnestly explained that I had been studying hard and that I spoke a lot of Pulaar, when I actually meant to say I speak only a little (confusing the words for a lot and a little bit). It wasn't until I returned home that I realized most of my mistakes, but I'm sure my friend the butcher is still scratching his head.

More reports to come as the adventure continues.