ESL is a fact of life in Congo. Everywhere people are learning English, speaking broken, accented English or that careful, proper English that uses words native speakers hardly ever do. For the U.S. citizen, reference points are all wrong, even in our American school, because the students are coming from around the world with their own reference points. That is how I found myself reading an essay about ice skating, Christmas coming, and hot summer days. I forgot where I was and questioned the student. "Hot? Christmas is almost here? Where are you???"
"In South Africa." She shrugged. I mentioned to her, and to everyone, that identifying the setting is very important. It helps to orient the reader to your time and place, the time and place of the story. If reading is an escape, as the author, we must provide the means of travel.
Sometimes, words aren't enough. Identifying setting doesn't really add to clarity. More than a translation and definition is needed. And this is how I found myself trying to explain the concept of kitchen items and uses during my Monday night ESL 'class.'
I've been trying to teach English to two women every Monday since August. I can't really tell how far we are getting. Everyone acquires language at their own pace. I was surprised to learn that English is taught in Congolese schools (and in many African schools.) It is much like the language classes taught in U.S. high schools. Having no one to practice with and living in English speaking houses, most people do not retain much of the language they studied for 3 or 4 years in high school. So it is here.
Student number 1, Mama Vero, works around enough English speaking people that she has a fairly quick understanding of the words. She is just not yet confident enough to be speaking too often herself. Student number 2, her sister Odille, really doesn't have much exposure to English. It takes her longer to grasp the defintion, the concept and then to pronounce the word.
We've been working with a picture dictionary which is really helpful for translating the French words I may not know. We also have an English-Lingala book - no pictures and really outdated but occasionally useful. As with any task I undertake, I often find it easy to lose focus and to become over or underwhelmed with what I am actually accomplishing.
I have been trying to focus on practical English- words that well help them on the job, the job being housework and child care. I figured, when I offered this English speaking evening, that acquiring the language would open up more job opportunities for them. I have been slowly realizing the obvious- learning English in Africa is more than just language translation.
There have been a few instances where the translation is simply meaningless. I do know the word for brown in French, but here, they seemed mostly to use the word chocolate. I thought it quite opposite from the eskimos- who've been mythically reported to have some 35 different words for snow. In this land of tans, browns, toffees, dark chocolate and deep rich charcoal browns they had only one insufficient word.
The unit on household items was equally daunting. We are stalled at kitchen. The picture of a kitchen in the Oxford Picture Dictionary is quite detailed and filled with many gadgets I simply skipped over. Toaster and garbage disposal to name a few. Electric can opener and blender to name a few more. We briefly discussed dishwasher and microwave, mostly out of novelty for the former and occasionally you will find the latter in an ex-pat home. The words were harder to remember in this case because, for Odille especially, she doesn't utilize these items on a daily basis. Her kitchen is outside. I've seen her cut a handful of scallions by gathering them together and running them along the blade of the knife. Cutting board?
I've seen her lay out the materials she needs on the seat of a chair, which she has turned facing her, as she sits in an opposite chair, outside where she can feel a slight breeze and have enough light to see by. Counter? And while she is familiar with a refrigerator, understanding the two parts (freezer and refrigerator) takes some explaining, as does oven versus stove.
It was one particularly painful back day when I thought that African kitchens, outside and with their chairs and stools, made much more sense than our Western kitchens, where we stand and labour on our feet once again. The most useful kitchen, I think, would be a hybrid. A kitchen with low counters and shelves so we could sit and chop and cut and mix. A low, wide oven that would allow us to boil and bake and steam from the comfort of a seat.
We used my kitchen, with its high counters and wooden cupboards, to work on most of the words. Sink. Faucet. Drain. Yup, they didn't have any of those things at their house. We used the picture for testing. What is on the table? What is the dad doing? I got a bit overzealous with my questions before realizing that eggs, milk, butter and flour would not necessarily signal pancakes or some kind of batter to them. I realized too late that the carton of milk did not resemble the can of powdered milk we buy here. All of these things required lengthy explanations (some people do buy milk in a carton here, Vero would have seen this, Odille- no.)
I decided the next few lessons would involve cooking. We had been pretty good at defining words and building vocabulary but we hadn't done a lot of discussion. I thought cooking some things together in a kitchen would provide the perfect practice for asking and responding to questions and directions.
We made potato chips. We peeled potatoes and washed them in the sink. We sliced thin pieces and fried with a spatula. We sprinkled salt and flipped the potatoes over when they were crisp. Things were going well. I had Vero repeat all of the directions to me for each new batch of chips we put in the pan. I sent her home with a small bag, realizing she would never make these herself, though she had all the materials. How could she spend so much time preparing something that wouldn't fill the belly through the night?
Much earlier in the year, I had also taught her to make her own yogurt. I even provided the thermal container and the occasional small starter batch of yogurt. That was before the congelateur broke down. Vero and her sister used to sell Cokes and soft drinks, commonly called sucre (sugar) here. But when the large, deep cooler broke down, that prospect for earning money also broke down. Along with the occasional yogurt treat. And the PUR water. Vero told me even though she had been making clean water, the kids would always run over and grab a drink directly from the tap in the yard. It didn't seem to make sense to her to keep buying the packets, even if they're only 4cents each.
We'll continue English, and cooking, at least until the summer reprieve. What they'll remember and what they'll actually use- well, I can't really be sure. But our high school language teachers never seemed to dwell too long on that thought. Besides, Vero and Odille already speak Swahili, Lingala and French. That's more than most potato chip eating, yogurt loving Americans anyway.
