Recently, I have focused a lot on language, and once again it has taken center stage. Today while breaking up into groups at the Instituto Nacional de Administração Público (INAP), Timorese participants languidly wove in and out of three distinct numeric systems.
Satu, dois, tolu, quatro, lima, nen…
I spent the beginning of last week observing INAP’s training sessions for the field organizers. On the second day we broke into small groups and each organizer presented a shortened version of the module on “Gestão i Liderança.”
Linguistic hurdles cropped up immediately. With rural, less-literate populations, high Portuguese won’t fly: How should the organizers introduce the module? In response, the leader translated “gestão” into the Indonesian, “managmen.” But “managmen” is derived from English (from Latin for hand, “manus”), and we’re back at square one. Then the trainer chastised organizers for confusing “leader” and “leadership.”
Observing groups define words “incorrectly” reminds me of the heterogeneity language, and the lack of a common definition of a word among the speaker, listener, and the dictionary. I am reminded that meanings are social. The training was a place to create a common definition – be it “correct” or not – and I hope that the arrived-upon definition fits the purpose that the word will serve. Put as a question, what should “leadership” mean in a discussion with xefes de suco?
Linguistics aside, the participants were a riot. We had to reintroduce ourselves at the beginning of each mock training session, and one guy named his town “Street-dust,” “Man-who-is-always-scratching” and then “Arrive-but-can’t-leave,” while another man called himself Xefe de Suco Honda, after the motorbike.
The day was long, and everyone just seemed to take it in stride, smoking cigarettes, answering cellphones and drinking very sweet, black coffee.
The photo is of the sunset on Friday.
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