Stellenbosch University Language Centre

Tag: mother tongue

So many kinds of freedom

“I never even knew that that kind of personal freedom existed, because I had never experienced it before …”

Liselotte Voets, a Belgian exchange student from KU Leuven  (Catholic University of Leuven) who visited SU last year as part of her studies towards a master’s degree in philosophy, attended the Language Centre’s Afrikaans course for Dutch-speaking students while she was in South Africa.

In celebration of Freedom Day on 27 April, she shares her thoughts about freedom with us, originally in Afrikaans, but translated into English below.

My exchange visit of five and a half months in Stellenbosch kicked off in February 2022. Choosing South Africa was obvious to me: the cultures, the people, the scenery, the history, the mountains and the climate appealed to me. All these aspects naturally made a huge positive impression on me. One result of my visit I had not expected, is the new way in which I now look at the concept of freedom. If I had to explain in an intuitive way how I experienced freedom in South Africa, I would first of all mention the landscape. In my opinion, the vastness of the country represents in a very symbolical way what it means to be free in South Africa. There are still so many open spaces that can be filled. The possibilities seem to be endless. If one compares it with Belgium, where I am from, you have to conclude that most of Belgium has been built up. It really is a challenge to find a piece of open land from where one can see the horizon across an open expanse; where everything is not covered with walls, houses, streets, towns and cities.

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 It feels as if one is being watched – always and everywhere – and as if you can’t escape and commune with nature.”

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Now that I’m back in Belgium, I find it even more difficult to endure, and I miss South Africa so much more. Of course, in Belgium we have more (a feeling of) safety and security. The price we have to pay for it is our personal freedom. However, I never even knew that that kind of personal freedom existed, because I had never experienced it before. Perhaps it is also typical of Europeans to regard the kind of freedom we know as the only kind of freedom and not to leave room for other interpretations. But this is actually a contradiction in terms. I should have known that ‘freedom’ can’t be encapsulated in a single viewpoint. I’ve also noticed this kind of personal freedom in the South Africans I’ve met: they are not being lived (their lives are not being ruled and regulated), but they live on their own accord; they welcome others with open arms and start each day courageously. This great personal freedom in South Africa seems to come at a price, though, and is something that should absolutely not be underestimated: many people are left to their own devices – to fend for themselves. They need to survive on their own. Seen from that perspective, my impression was that some South Africans see the South African landscape more as a kind of emptiness than an open future. I think, and sincerely hope, that this can still change.

Blog by Liselotte Voets; translated by Ingrid Swanepoel

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Mother language, heart language

Mother Language Day: A day dedicated to the language in which our very first thoughts were verbalised – that’s a world we can believe in. We’re so different, but this is something that we all share.

Our mother language is regarded as the language we hear most as a baby and toddler, and it’s usually the language of the mother figure who was responsible for us when we were very little. It’s also the language in which we would have said our first words, and the language that has, while we were acquiring it, established the blueprint for all the languages that we may learn later in life. Some people may even have two languages as mother languages, particularly when they come from a multilingual household.

Mother Language Day creates a space for us to reflect on that very foundation of our language repertoire – something that also influences how we interact with the world around us. It’s about a very deep emotional connection with our own language instinct, yes, but it’s also about where language can take us. When we connect with others, we bring our own language repertoire to the table. Our mother language becomes intertwined with the languages we use in other spaces, for instance in the workplace. One could choose not to acknowledge this multidimensionality and suppress parts of oneself – however, recognising the richness of different experiences, ways of expression and points of view makes for much stronger and more agile individuals and teams that can communicate better with each other and with those they serve.

In celebration of this unique strength and sense of possibility within each of us, some Language Centre staff shared something of their connection to their mother language:

The connection with identity

[us_cta title=”” color=”light” btn_label=””]“I like to think of isiXhosa as my identity. I grew up loving my language without even realising it. That reflected in my essay writing or book analysis in high school. I even had a book where I would write isiXhosa poems. I remember my teacher showing off to her colleague about a book I had analysed while I was doing Grade 11. I would say it was all of this that inspired me to want to know and learn more about my language, as I ended up majoring in isiXhosa even at university. And at that time, I didn’t even know that there are several jobs other than teaching that one could do with language, but I continued to study isiXhosa because of my love and passion for the language.”
– Asiphe Sogiba, isiXhosa interpreter[/us_cta]

The joy of sharing it

[us_cta title=”” btn_label=””]“I am proudly Afrikaans. I grew up with a West Coast father who taught me words like ‘snoek’, ‘bokkoms’ [salted and dried mullet or harder, also known as Cape biltong] and ‘galjoen’ [galleon]. Today I still use his favourite expression, ‘Siesa Skipper!’, when someone has done something well.
I am now a lecturer with the privilege of teaching international students Afrikaans. The enthusiasm with which they learn my mother language astounds me time and again. And everything is ‘LEKKER’ [very enjoyable] to them! Nelson Mandela’s words, ‘If you talk to a man in his language, that goes to his heart’, are so true. I regard it as my calling in life to touch people’s hearts by introducing them to my mother language.”
– Dr Vernita Beukes, Afrikaans lecturer
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A reflection of its speakers

[us_cta title=”” color=”light” btn_label=””]“My mother language is English, and my father language is English too. That makes me different in my home country South Africa, where only around five per cent of the population have English as a first language.

Language has been a passion for me since I was very young. I first started my language journey paying extra attention to convoluted English spelling and pronunciation, and just loved trying to wrap my head around its difficulties. Very soon, though, as I began to learn French, Afrikaans and a bit of isiZulu, English became my guide in mapping out how languages differ from each other.

I slowly began to understand the richness that learning many languages brings; that the Englishness of beating around the bush and being polite had its origins in the French spoken in the royal court in England until a century or so ago, and left its traces in words like ‘courtesy’, ‘liberty’, ‘fraternity’, ‘equality’ and ‘university’, and many more words relating to civilisation, education and the law. I learned that the blunt Celtic earthiness of words like ‘quaff’, ‘drink’ and ‘sit’ were part of English’s Germanic roots and were echoed in the directness of Germanic languages like Afrikaans and German. And, to my surprise, words of isiZulu origin like ‘indaba’ (conference, news) and ‘donga’ (a dry gully formed by the eroding action of running water), ‘babbelas’ (hangover, from the Zulu ibhabhalazi), ‘bonsella’ (surprise gift) were also part of the fabric of my variety of English, spoken at the southern tip of the African continent. My English, learned in my hometown of Johannesburg, also reflects the many immigrant cultures attracted to this mining town, where hustling is still the name of the game. So for me, Yiddish words used in SA English like ‘chutzpah’, ‘schmuck’, ‘kugel’, ‘bagel’, ‘shabbat’, ‘platz’ and ‘meshugge’ add a richness to my vocabulary and are like treasures waiting to be discovered.”
– Dr Kim Wallmach, Director of the Language Centre [/us_cta]

A sense of coming home

[us_cta title=”” btn_label=””]“Afrikaans is something I learnt from my mother. She had a voice like a bell, and she spoke Afrikaans with the unpretentiousness and honesty of the Sutherland Karoo where she grew up – the Afrikaans of NP van Wyk Louw. During a recent family holiday in Swakopmund I was struck by how different it was there and how much I felt at home, all at once. One hears Afrikaans everywhere: in the street, in a conversation between two Herero women clad in traditional garb; from the Ovambo barista in the coffee shop: ‘Is mevrou al gehelp … wat gaan dit vandag wees?’ [‘Have you been served yet … what will it be today?’]. A woman ordering her coffee stands next to me and spontaneously starts chatting. Later she sits next to me and shows me photos of the Spitzkoppe. She says she grew up in Namibia, but lived in the Republic for most of her adult life. She has now returned and would soon start teaching at a school in Windhoek. Her words echo my own experience: ‘It feels like I’ve come home … I can breathe here.’ In my case, this feeling had a lot to do with the fact that I could hear my language everywhere; spoken spontaneously and unselfconsciously: beautiful – mooi – Afrikaans.

While on a cycling tour through the Tsauchab river, I remarked to the Damara tour guide and my family how pretty the tamarisk trees in the riverbed were. In Afrikaans, a riverbed is a ‘rivierloop’, and the word ‘loop’ also means ‘to walk’ or ‘to flow or run’, in the case of a liquid. One of my children replied: ‘Hier is nie water nie, hoekom sê Mamma die rivier loop? [‘There is no water here – why do you say the river is flowing?’] The tour guide stopped everyone and got off his bicycle. He spoke to the children: ‘Your mother speaks Afrikaans beautifully – mooi Afrikaans. That is something you children should never lose.’ When I asked him about his linguistic background, he replied that his family spoke Damara and English, and even a little German. ‘Maar ons praat Afrikaans as ons lus is om Afrikaans te praat, as ons móói wil praat.’ [‘But we speak Afrikaans when we feel like speaking Afrikaans; when we want to speak beautifully.’]

To me, that Damara man was one of the highlights of our holiday. In his company, there was a general relaxed feeling, a sense of friendship, of familiarity and of mutual understanding; and even a sense of happiness. As I watched him cycling energetically ahead of me along the dusty path, I knew this: My beautiful – mooi – language is flourishing, just like the delicate, tough tamarisks in the dry riverbed of the Tsauchab.”
– Dr Carmen Brewis, interpreter and researcher
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The language within

 

We also have a poem to share, and we chose not to translate the poem, but rather share it in its original Afrikaans form. This poem is about language as one’s heritage and how one’s language mentors (parents, teachers) also have a profound influence on what one regards as your own.

My taal, my erfenis

 Afrikaaps is nie my taal nie.
Sommige woorde kan ek nie verstaan nie.
My taal
het ek geleer van kindsbeen af
saam met die klingel en tongklap
van die aksent
wat my streek rojaal kweek.

Daar het ek begin verstaan
en geleer my ma en pa se taal.
Met my Afrikaanse onnie
wat berispend die spelreëls aanhaal,
nie tjent nie, maar kind,
nie tjy nie, maar jy.
Idiome sou ek goed onthou:
Iemand wat hard werk
is ʼn werkesel,
anders was dit die rottang vir jou.

My taal kom uit die boeke wat ek lees.
Tussen die blaaie
kon ek kies om iemand anders te wees.
Daar in die stilte van my drome
sonder die kletterende lawaai
in ʼn omgewing sonder energie belaai,
kry my taal sy lêplek
daar sonder die tjy en tjou,
daar lewe ek.

My komvandaan is eenvoudig,
tog is alles volop rondom en binne my.
Daar teen die Weskus het ek my asem gekry.
Daar is taal in my erfenis gebrei.
Nou kruip en klou
die wortels van my taal
diep en welig
sonder ophef of kabaal
lewe dit uit my pen
koester dit die erfenis wat ek ken.

– Anne-Mari Lackay, Writing Lab consultation coordinator

At the Language Centre we believe that it is language that brings us together, and we will keep on connecting people by improving communication and understanding.

Blog by Susan Lotz and Dr Kim Wallmach; translated by Ingrid Swanepoel

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Let’s celebrate the first one

It’s most probably the language in which you’d swear when you get a very sudden fright. Chances are that you also dream in this language. If you’re lucky, you’ll know nursery rhymes in it, and maybe even a few archaic idioms and made-up words…

One’s mother tongue is an almost instinctive language – often it’s knowledge that one just seems to have as an adult, deeply embedded to emerge at the strangest of times. It is fitting to have an international day to mark this very personal and precious resource that helps us to make sense of the world. One’s mother tongue, or first language, also serves as a springboard for learning more languages – at times so successfully that some people eventually find it hard to distinguish between their first and second language.

International Mother Language Day is celebrated on 21 February each year. Honouring this day gives us at the Language Centre great joy and confirms our purpose at a deep level. Language starts with the first language you learn, and the wonder of that first language lives on and through all the other languages you open yourself up for. When you learn to speak and write in a language other than your mother tongue, it stimulates and expands intercultural experiences and dialogue between people. We strongly believe that knowledge of and a passion for different languages can contribute to stronger relationships between people, cultures and organisations. When we promote and nurture language proficiency at the Language Centre, we encourage our students and clients to go all out to learn other languages with us – be it isiXhosa, Afrikaans or English.

International Mother Language Day invites each and every one of us to stop for a moment and reflect; to think back how it all started for each one of us, linguistically. What is your relationship with the language that first enabled you to name your world? This day gives us an opportunity to honour and appreciate that personal and individual starting point. Marking this day helps to preserve our respective heritages, and encourages us to become part of a linguistically diverse, multilingual and culturally rich society. It all starts with that very important first one, though: the mother of languages.

– by Susan Lotz, Kim Wallmach and Zandile Kondowe

International Mother Language Day poster
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