Language Barrier
This baobab really has nothing to do with this post. But traditionally people meet and talk under baobabs, so it’s kind of related?
A room full of eight people eating should never be this silent. We scoop rice into our mouths, gnaw on chicken bones and pierce chunks of squash with our forks, but nobody speaks. It’s my first night in Mtshabezi, a rural community about an hour and a half outside of Bulawayo, and I’m staying with the family of the hospital administrator. We’re all sitting in the dark (because the power’s out of course,) staring at each other across the coffee tabled laden with food. Lorraine, the oldest child, shushes her 10-year-old brother Voyo when he starts to laugh.
This is the definition of uncomfortable silence, and everyone knows it. We’re not used to each other. “Maybe, they always eat in silence,” I think to myself, which is followed quickly by “no that’s ridiculous, it’s only this quiet and awkward because you’re here.”
I tried breaking the silence by complimenting the food. That buys about 20 seconds of relief before we barrel head first back into the silence. We sit like this for what feels like half an hour, but it’s maybe only 10 minutes (I have no idea), until the mother asks me if I’ve learned any Ndebele.
And before I know it the kids are clamouring to teach me new words, and laughing at my attempts to pronounce the clicks represented by c,q and x. (I’m also terrible at making the dl sound, which sounds more “thl” to me.) The kids have dug up some paper and are writing me a vocabulary list that is still tucked inside my wallet for quick reference. Everyone brainstorms words I might need to know.
We’ve gone from silent to non-stop chatter before I even realized what happened. The power of language.
The power of learning another language is something I’ve heard a lot about, but never really understood until that night. Asking these kids to teach me something, being willing to admit “I can’t pronounce that,” and allowing everyone to laugh at my expense, made my “host family” experience so much richer.
That’s not to say all barriers were broken down. There were plenty of times over the next two days where I had no idea what was going on and felt completely out of place. It’s also not to say I learned any real amount of Ndebele, I can say hello how are you and I’m fine and a few other random words, but I still can’t pronounce the word for hospital. But in that moment, and many times after showing a willingness to learn another culture and language will dismantle awkwardness and open the door to new relationships.
In the last three months I’ve learned tiny snippets of a few different languages, including, of course, their word for “white person.” And though my pronunciation is terrible and I forgot to use the phrases on many occasions they have come in handy.
Here’s the quick rundown of what I’ve learned (sorry for any inaccuracies and spelling errors):
Tonga (this is for Zambia, they also speak Tonga in some parts of Zimbabwe but I never got a satisfactory lesson in it):
Good morning/how are you: Mwabuka buti
I’m fine, how are you: Kabotu, Mabuka buti?
Thank you: Twalumba
Tank you very much: Twalumba Meninge
White person: Mukuwa
Nyanja (mostly in Lusaka):
How are you: Muli bwanji
I’m good: bwino (or ndili bwino, if anyone can explain when to use which I’d be very greatful)
Thank you: zikomo
White person: Muzungu
Bemba (comes from Northern Zambia, but also common in Lusaka. I was taught this by one of the SALTers host mom’s, but never actually used it):
How are you: Mulishani
I’m going: Bwino
Ndebele (in Matebeleland, Zimbabwe):
Hello: Salibonani (formal), Sabona (for friends)
the proper response to this is “Yebo”, which just means yes. This doesn’t translate well to English.
How are you: Unjani (singular, informal), Linjani (plural, formal)
I’m fine: Nyiaphila
Thank you: Siabonga (formal, plural) Niabonga (singular, although I almost never heard anyone use this)
White person: Mukiwa
emily ruth adventures 
Interesting to see the connection to Xhosa (which I learned very little of and remember even less). But I do remember that Unjani is the same! We’ll have to compare our c, x, and q click abilities.
Ndili bwino is “I am fine.” Bwino is “fine.” So probably, ” ndili bwino,” is more formal, and better used in formal situations like meeting a headmaster. “Bwino,” might be better used when greeting a friend or acquaintance especially your own age or younger. Just guessing.
I like your posts!
Thanks Cynthia! That explanation makes perfect sense, if only I had known that when I was in Zambia!