Some neighbors came over this morning: three guys, all about college-age, and they wanted to talk to me about things. They explained that they had recently finished high school, and were waiting to attend university. It was hard, though, because university is expensive and there was not much money.
Two of them left after a few minutes, but one stayed for awhile; we talked in English, because he clearly spoke English better than I spoke Kinyarwanda. He wanted to know how he could get a scholarship to study in America, or just how he could live in America. He had heard that there was help available abroad that one could not find here.
I answered; I told him that there were universities in America and in the U.K. that wanted African students and might offer scholarships, but that it would be difficult, especially without having near-perfect English. I then backtracked a little, saying that it might be better for him to university here, then try to either get a job or get another degree abroad.
These are tough questions to answer. It is true that many Western universities have scholarships for African students: they want to help, and they want diversity. A recent survey found that there are more Malawian doctors in Liverpool, U.K., than there are in all of Malawi, for precisely that reason. (I won’t go into the issue of brain-drain here, interesting though it is.)
To be admitted to a Western university, however, one must still be adequately prepared for it; most of the African students I know at Harvard come from well-off families and went to private schools. I do not know whether a Rwandan public secondary-school education prepares a student for university in Europe or America, or even Rwanda. I do not know whether this guy I met, wonderful personality though he may have, would be able to succeed there. Through no fault of his own, or of the universities to which he applies, it may not be possible.
Then he asked about living in America without studying. In the simplest words I could find (his English was not perfect), I explained a little bit about visas and how to get them, and how becoming a U.S. citizen is really hard for unskilled workers from developing countries.
The best advice I could give him in the end was to keep practicing his English and make it really good, then work hard and save money and get that degree wherever there was an opportunity. I decided that, even if these things did not result in a high-paying job in a developed country, they would help him in other places as well.
That was a hard conversation to have. It was a little bit disconcerting that he was so keen on living somewhere else, however he could. I prodded him a bit, and he did express a lot of pride in how far Rwanda had come in the last 20 years, but his desire was the same. I have a lot of problems with that—brain drain, loss of culture, lack of patriotism and more, not to mention the realities of American life that immigrants don’t hear about—but, if I put myself in his shoes, I cannot say I would do any differently. I do not know what the solution to is.
Anyway, the topic changed to Kinyarwanda then, and that was a lot more fun. He, like most other people, was happy that I was learning but confused about why I would want to (understandably, from the perspective of someone eager to study whatever he can to succeed). I tried, unsuccessfully, to explain, but he taught me lots of words anyway. It was very helpful, and I was happy that I remembered a bunch of the things I had been wanting to know how to say, so he could translate them.
This was another one of those annoying days where two interesting things happened. I think I have to blog about both of them.
Here’s the part where I should explain the process for getting permission to do research in Rwanda. For those of you who do not know, one of my reasons for being here is to do linguistic fieldwork, examining how the Kinyarwanda language varies between regions and age-groups, and perhaps other factors as well.
The government of Rwanda requires foreign researchers to obtain a research permit through the Ministry of Education before they can begin work. It sounds a little bit authoritarian, and you certainly don’t need a permit to research in the U.S. As with some other Rwandan government policies that are sometimes so criticized, however, I am more sympathetic toward it here than I would be elsewhere (more on that another day, perhaps). Put another way, an unprepared foreign researcher could very easily do something offensive if he were not accountable to someone.
The process is fairly involved. The Ministry of Education has a six-page application on its website, plus a lengthy list of other documents it requires. One of these is a letter confirming “research affiliation” with a Rwandan institution. This reflects a part of the government’s ideology that foreign researchers should share their expertise so that Rwandans may succeed academically as well.
My chosen affiliating institution is the Rwandan Academy of Language and Culture, a recently established body charged with documenting and safeguarding the language and culture of the country—kind of up my alley. I called a couple of times from the U.S., and it seemed like the arrangements had more or less been made, but when I came to check after arriving it turned out I needed to submit some additional documents.
So I brought those today. The R.A.L.C.’s offices are in Remera, near Amahoro Stadium; this meant a fairly lengthy drive, past some rather dramatic views of the city, as well as some interesting landmarks: the monumental U.S. embassy; a large development under construction with funding from Bill Gates; several government ministries—including the Ministry of Defense, which has a lovely garden, and the Ministry of Education, where I will have to go soon.
Upon arrival, I handed over my documents and sat reading the guestbook while the executive director read through them. He seemed pleased, made a couple of recommendations and said he would make sure the committee approved it soon.
As I was walking out, I asked about one of the dictionaries on the bookshelf. I have seen several dictionaries of Kinyarwanda, all bilingual, and none of them have been nearly comprehensive enough, nor have they included tone markings (which are pretty important). This one, Inkoranya y’Ikinyarwanda Iciririse, is not bilingual—i.e. it defines Kinyarwanda words in Kinyarwanda—but it is almost 600 pages long and does include the tones.
I asked whether there was a place I could buy one. It turns out it is not being sold yet, but the director offered to lend it to me to help with my studies. Really nice of him. The book is greatly useful, in my case primarily for confirming the tones on words I hear people say, or those I already know. Finding a new word and trying to understand the definition is also a good challenge (though usually not one I can successfully complete)!
Well, this was a long post, and it has a correspondingly long vocabulary list!
New Vocabulary Words for the Day
- umusaambi: mat
- ubutiînde: something grammatical, relating to tones, but I did not understand
- gusuumba: to be taller than
- ikigega: storage-tank
- guhanika: to store something for a long time, especially in a storage-tank
- icyúuma: knife, metal object
- ítâfaâli: brick
- amabaati: roof
- urubaaho: stick, piece of wood
- urutsiinga: power-cable
- ikáyê: notebook (from Fr. cahier)
- kaamba mbírî: flip-flops
- itapi: carpet (from Fr. tapis)
- ikínyûgúnyûgu: hands down, best word for “butterfly” in any language
- kuguruka: to fly
- umuriizo: tail
- ibaba: wing
- urukoma: banana-leaf
- umuzi: root
- isuûra: face
- ipine: wheel
- imbago: crutch, fence
- imbiingo: wooden fence
- kóogosha: to shave
- urweembe: razor
- mashíínî: electric razor (or one of a few other electric tools)
- umukásî: scissors
- gukata: to cut
- gúhômeka: to breathe
- igihaha: lung
- umusiramu: Muslim
- amajyaâni: teabag
- Bihagije: It is enough.
Types of birds
He also told me the names of a bunch of kinds of birds, most of whose English names, of course, he did not know. He said he would try to find a book with pictures.
- igisiiga: something like an eagle; really big, and all over the place here
- intaáshay: kind of a long-tailed sparrow
- umúsáambi: crane
- inkoôngoro: vulture
- ísáansi: red and black, with a high voice
- umúsûre, igíshwî, isóryô, umúnúuni, ifuundi: ?
Vowels with an acute accent (e.g. á) have a phonetic high tone. Vowels with a circumflex (e.g. â) have a phonetic falling tone. Vowels with no accent have a low tone. Vowels that are doubled are long.
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