Languages

In discussing the way our indigenous languages are undervalued, I would like to begin with the following questions:

Why is it that indigenous languages are only offered for study at government schools in rural areas?

Why is it that there are events about the intricacies of the French language and culture (nuit de l’écrit – feast for the readers) but there are no events dedicated to Namibian indigenous language and their rich oral traditions?

Why is that we have to pay more than three times more (N$1700) to study a Namibian indigenous language at Polytech than we have to pay for Spanish (N$ 400)?

And most of all, why is that as a young Namibian, I am more drawn to learning Spanish than my own Oshiwambo?

I remember my experience at recent opening of an art exhibition at national art gallery of Namibia. As usual, there were quite a few foreigners at the event, and this time the majority happened to be Spaniards, as their embassy sponsored the exhibition. I recall being in the midst of Spaniards and also hearing two men speaking Oshiwambo nearby. I was about to gravitate to the Spaniards and continue to refine my command of the language of Cervantes, but then I opted to go over to the gentlemen. I tried to make out what they were saying, but it was just a stream of Oshiwambo, some of which I understood, to my ears. So I moved to look at the sculpture and speak with Spanish lady, who described her multiple interpretations of a large flint shaped rock with a hole in it, as a bird that was about to take off. Currently, I cannot describe an artwork in Oshiwambo – that is just beyond the level I have reached studying with the aid of a free book “Te ti! - a manual for Oshindonga” that I downloaded free of charge from the internet. Kudos to the Namibians who collaborated with American Peace Corps volunteers to write that book and then put online for all to access. But it is somewhat ironic that I am learning the language of my fatherland through a book designed for foreigners.

Why am I writing this piece? I need to find a way to express my fear that we, including myself, are mesmerized by European languages at the expense of appropriating our own. Indeed, there are benefits to learning those languages, including a successful career in the hospitality sector or access to foreign institutions of higher learning. But do we realize we are buying into the hegemony of these languages? Let me explain clearly. In my Spanish we had to comment to on following statement using the future tense:

Los expertos opinan que ingles, español y chino serán los idiomas dominantes del futuro y las lenguas minoritarias desaparecerán.

“Experts relieve that English, Spanish and Chinese with the dominant languages of the future while the languages of minorities will disappear”.

I guess that seems possible, at least in the case of Namibia, where we are still coming to grips with what means to be a multilingual society with only one official language, which by the way, nearly no one claims as their own. Perhaps this is just a phase in development and one day Namibia will be developed and English will be our forte. Welcome to the United States of Africa, where “ethnic languages” are mere vestiges of our primitive past.

Update after UNAM humanities and Social Science Conference

I went to the conference of the humanities and social sciences of UNAM on Thursday and Friday. It was deeply satisfying and enriching, I not only learnt a lot but I had a chance to network with sociologists who are keen for us to push for a scientific presentation of the sentinel survey results of 2010 – I am excited at the prospect!

Finally, I will have a chance to do something really epidemiological in Namibia. I think I have done quite a few med anthro things (at two published op pieces, which you will find in this blog). A rigorous treatment of the sentinel survey of HIV prevalence amongst pregnant women is what I need. Perhaps I will have access to the data and I will manipulate in R! How fun.

Rather than elaborating at length about the conference, I wish, for the sake of time, to speak about the work of a visual artist. She presented on her exhibition “Images of Fertility and Abundance”. A cross between a mandrake and an octopus with branching tentacles is what some of the works resemble. Then there are prehistoric like images of mother figures with burgeoning wombs and opened seed pods that resemble the female genitals. “Nature is fool of images that I find erotic” said the artist. Of course, she did not elaborate on exactly how they were erotic.

I enjoyed this exhibition, because of its earth-like references and how it valued the human body. Spirals of colored wind that flew all over a canvas comprised one of her paintings, in my perspective. It was also great to see how as an artist, she connected her works with sociologically relevant themes. She spoke of how she aimed to counter “the culture of consumerism and materialism” that is becoming dominant in Namibia: “We all want to live in a big house in Ludwigsdorf [affluent suburb of Windhoek] with a four by four car and many accounts, but I just want to question that – can everyone in Africa do that and what will happen if they did?” Her artwork – full of the colors in the wind – was inspired by abundance and it drew you in with the warm red, orange and yellows. To me it illustrated how consumerism draws people in.

Her references to alternative, pre-Christian, forms of spiritually were equally intriguing. She had an “earth altar” that she was inspired to create by the personal, home, Christian shrines that people employed in the Byzantine empire, at some point in time. Her shrine of an open white carnivore jaw – like an ivory serrated V – affixed to a brown earth background. Bones in the dirt, a fossil or the first human shrine in Africa tens of millennia ago? I really enjoyed this and I feel moved to explore the connection my own spirituality has to nature. Indeed, I feel I have been overburdened by patriarchal, heterosexist forms of Christianity. Apart from valorizing the inherent validity of homoerotic relationships, I need to also explore the role nature has in the sacred.

Alright, that’s it for now!

Pancho

Save Tonight (Zach you'll love this!)

I know that end of the Sabbath has come. For me, who is accustomed to keeping the Sabbath on Friday to Saturday, the working week has official begun. But remember, I am not Jewish in the first place, so I should be allowed some flexibility right? And more importantly I would like to savor these last few moments of evening – I want to save to night, though I won’t fight the break of dawn. I will post this letter, rather than writing my progress report of my life post Princeton to my former advisor or continuing in my search for admission to a Masters program. I will save the night, I will extend that one hour after sunset so that the Sabbath goes on until I finish this letter to you my dear readers. Especially for Zach Marr – this is for you.

It is from my friend Zach Marr that I learnt about music and how it connects to faith. On his blog, you’ll find it’s all about that. Now I am writing about how there is a song “Save The Night” by Lenny Kravitz which defies the dichotomy of “secular and Christian” music. It also defies the dichotomy of music that is “gay or straight” and the unison of the two former concepts the dichotomy of a “straight devout Christian or a disgruntled homosexual non-Christian”. In this song, I feel gay and Christian themes coming out strongly.

If you have heard this song you will know its about Lenny Kravitz singing :“Save the Night and fight the break of dawn, come tomorrow, tomorrow I’ll be gone”. It is insightful for me to say these lyrics are modern, hip version of the Gospel, where Jesus tells his disciples to keep the vigil as he goes to pray in the garden, the night his passion began. In the Gospel, it recounts how Jesus roused them to wake up when he came from prayer and they were sleeping. This occurred, according to the Gospel, moments before the guards came to cease Jesus. Now Lenny Kravitz is saying what Jesus would have said back then, but in a way that invites us to enjoy his company. But then there is an apparent incongruity that of Lenny singing “Girl you know I got to go” and that of Jesus speaking to his disciples who, as far as the gospel suggests were all men. Mary Magdalene was absent that night.

For me, this is where queer theory comes into play. Though Lenny may sing “girl” this term is broad enough to include both women and gay men. As gay men, we often call each other “girl” or “girlfriend” as we shun traditional genders that for centuries have been thrust upon us – the prerogative of being “men”. At first I never understood how this could be possible, but then one day at Wilcox dinning hall at Princeton, I meet Nour and he was wearing a generic rubber wrist band, except it was pink with the words “mamma I’m a big girl now.” “Nour, you are not a girl, are you, why do you have that wrist band,” I asked him, genuinely befuddled “I am a big girl Pancho, aren’t you?” he answered rather amused. I did not get it immediately, and I protested “no I am not a big girl, I am boy” and he insisted “One day you’ll realize you are big girl too.” The dialogue was somehow different, there are not exact citations, but let that not detract from my point: we are also girls as gay, bisexual and especially transgender wo(men). Later it dawned on me that I had a feminine side that I had overlooked. So Jesus or Lenny Kravitz could be singing to a man, a gay, bisexual or transgender wo(man).

I take you understand the complexity of it all. Well I hope you also understand the simplicity : The song, as the Bible, speaks to an individual who interprets it as function of his identity and circumstances. In this sense, I believe Christ encompasses all sexualities, because he invites us all, to partake in his supper just before his imminent departure. Indeed, the song also alludes to the last supper. Lenny speaks of saving the night with “me, you and a bottle of wine”. How much closer to the sharing of the blood can you come to now?

Alas, the one hour after Shabbis is over and I feel the need to conclude and go forth to do all the other things I need to do. “Girl you know I got go, Lord I wish it wasn’t so, save tonight and fight the break of dawn, come tomorrow, tomorrow I’ll be gone.” An call for us to carpe diem and live for Christ now. Christ is worth saving the night for and I have spent many a night in his presence, though his physicality eluded me, I have visualized him with me. Much like Madonna’s like a prayer “In the midnight hour I can feel your power just like a prayer, you know I’ll take you there”, I feel the deep thrusting of lovemaking in my mind. Like A Prayer, it goes without saying, is another of those songs that seems secular, but is actually a praise song. I realized this when I was 16 and I always dreamt of singing this song at my Christian youth group (run by wonderful Baptist missionaries, in spite of our divergence of views on homosexuality). Back then, I did not venture to contemplate the sexual overtones of Like A Prayer, but now I understand that subconsciously, the sexual and spiritual were one, which meant I could not distinguish one from the other. Do you think I can now?

God Bless

Pancho

Il Vangello per i Gay

To: Isacc Martinez-Perez, Sagrado Nova Flores, Angelo Castello, Diego Cominazzini, Coleman Conelly.

Carnissimi amici e fratelli in Gesù Cristo,

Volevo mandarvi questa lettera tanto tempo fa, ma non ci riuscivo per tutti gli altri impegni – quotidiani ed altri legatti alle mie ambizioni – che me sequestravano il tempo. Comunque, oggi mi metto a farlo. Spero che stiate bene e sapiate che voglio bene.

Ho scritto questa lettera quasi quatro mesi fa.

La lettera nasce del mio desiderio di parteggiare la mia fede e la mia esperienza come un cristiano gay con gli, soprattuto con voi, amici miei che ho conosciuto durante gli ultimi cinque anni della mia vita. L’uso dell’italiano è anche un modo di ricordarmi di voi, siccome siete italiani o italofoni (grazie al Collegio del mondo Unito o altre istitutuzione, ad essemip Princeton University, dove ci siamo conosciuti.) Tra l’altro sto imparando lo spagnolo è se non mantengo activamente l’italiano, sarà conquistato come fu l’America (in effeti, il verbo ser di spagnolo sta sostituiscendo essere)

Ecco la mia lettera:

Questa mattina è lucida qui Namibia e profito benissimo del sole di Agosto. Vi scrivo perchè mi sento davvero comosso, convinto dallo Spirto Santo che devo parteggiare con voi la buona novità del vangelo.

Magari, alcuni di voi vi chiedete “Ma che ne voglio sapere di Dio, non sono mica religioso” Io, invece, ho bisogno di Gesù. Il suo messagio ci ricopre della garantità di un more abbondante per la sua salvezza. Adesso potrei parlare della vita a venire – nell’alto dei cieli – pero penso che l’aspetto della vita vita attuale sia più importante.

Quante sono state le volte che noi – omosessuali o bissessuali – abbiamo perso la fiducia in Gesù? Magari siamo passatti per la mezonga che Gesù ci condanna a una tortura eterna del corpo. Tutta una storia di intoleranza che portiamo con noi nei confronti di qualunque cosa cristiana.

Adesso vi invito a accostarvi insiemi a Gesù. Chi bussa alla porta? Puo darsi Gesù che vuole cenare alla tua tavolla: “Ecco sto alla porta e busso. Se qualcuno ascolta la mia voce e mi apre la porta, io verrò da lui e cenerò con lui ed egli con me.” Apocalisse 3: 20 (Revelations 3:20).

Invece di constringerci ad accolgierlo, Gesù ci chiedi il permesso d’accoglienza. Questo è fondamentale perchè scelgiamo noi la fede.

Chi di voi possa pretendere di vivere una vita complettamente soddisfatta? Nemmeno io, posso dirvelo. Pero, piano a piano, il senso della mia vita appare. Più che camin accanto a Gesù più che provo un amore piena agape e eros – il quale nessuno mi pùo togliere. Considerate questa frase: Jesus in Love with Lesbians, Bisexual, Asexual ,Gay and Transgender people -JILL BAGT (Se facessi un giorni un spettacollo di drag, vestito da donna, questo sarebbe il mio nome alternativo). Tutti noi abbiamo bisogno di Dio o dobbiamo imparare a essere umili per capire quanto siamo bisognosi.

Volevo scrivervi una lettera ispirata a San Paolo, il quale (a proposit) era ‘gay’ secondo un blogger che tratta temmi sulla sessualità e il cristianismo (www.gospelforgays.com). Ho perfino scritto un contribuito in questo blog, si chiama “My comming out story”, è tutto in inglese. Vi devo una spiegazione, lo so, come mai vi scrivo tutto un discorso sul critianismo senza nessuna notizia della mia vita quotidiana? Controlate i mieie blog pmulonge.blogspot.com e writinghealth.wordpress.com se volete sapere un po’ più dei miei progetti e pensieri

Rispondetemi in qualsiasi lingua, se non la capisco che google a tradurla.

Attention à la tension!

Attention à la tension!

Le Blog « Pancho’s Brouillons » à été mis sur pieds pour m’aider à réfléchir à traves l’écriture. Alors, je vais m’en servir maintenant car je me sens au bout de quelque chose inévitable – la perte de ma motivation pour étudier la langue de mon père des mes ancêtres récents africains (je dis récents puisque nous sommes tous africains les hommes), le Oshiwambo. Je ressens que cela soit inévitable en raison du fait que je m’occupe de plus en plus de ma quête pour une bourse d’étude de master en France. Et voila n’est-il point ironique que j’écris ce brouillon en français ?

D’habitude j’étudie l’Oshindonga le matin chez moi en ma chambre (l’un de deux dialectes d’Oshiwambo que on peut étudier formellement en Namibie). J’ai trouvé un livre de méthode de langue, c’est-a-dire un texte complet pour l’apprendre tout seul y compris des exercices dans l’internet. Ce livre-là est aussi gratuit à chacun qui le désire, ce sont des américains volontariats de « paix de corps » à le mettre en ligne pour tout le monde. Ce qui s’est passé ce matin c’était que j’ai du aller voir le directeur du centre culturel franco namibien. Je lui a parlé de bourses pour faire un master en France et je suis tellement content que finalement j’ai la chance de préparer une candidature pour en master en France ! Quelle joie ! En effet, c’est lui qui s’est rapproché de moi une journée quand j’étais la dans le foyer avec mon amie Fabrice Laurentin et il m’a posé la question :

« Est-ce que tu voudrais étudier en France ? »

« Mais oui, » j’ai répondu, d’après ce que je m’en souviens, mais la citation exacte n’est pas importante. Ce qui je veux souligner c’est que depuis cet rendez vous informel, je me suis mis à écrire ma lettre de motivation vu que il m’a dit « ramène-moi une lettre de motivation et ton CV » c’est jour là et aussi et ce qu’il a répété ce matin au cours de notre réunion plutôt décontractée malgré je lui accordais tout le temps le ‘vous’ alors qu’il m’a tutoyé lors qu’il répondait à mes questions.

Effectivement, je ne me plains pas. C’est juste frustrant que je ne parle autant bien l’Oshindonga que français ! En outre, les enjeux autour l’apprentissage d’Oshindonga sont ceux de la famille, de pouvoir me communiquer avec ma grande mère, laquelle j’ai vu cette dernière fin de semaine au nord de Namibie. En revanche, quant au français je l’apprends toujours et j’intensifie mes lectures en cette langue parce que je veux capitaliser sur l’opportunité d’étudier l’épidémiologie en France. Par conséquent, je pense que je vais finir par vendre mon âme au français en oubliant mon patrimoine et en échangeant le capacité de manier bien l’Oshindonga contre la maîtrise d’une langue colonisatrice et hégémonique.

Par contre, l’Oshindonga est aussi hégémonique vu que tous les autres dialectes d’Oshiwambo sauf qu’un n’ont point de même les plus basique ouvrages écrits. Pas de publicités ni des labels en ces dialectes-là les. En Namibie, il n’y a que l’oshindonga et Oshikwanyama dans le domaine public, à la radio, en la télé, dans les journaux.

Alors, maintenant je pense d’avoir parvenu à un point que je peux dépasser, au-delà du quel je n’arrive pas à grimper. Ce brouillon s’arrête ici. Mes études d’Oshindonga vont continuer, mais pas au même rythme, celui du commencent, de la découvert de cette langue tellement différente du français, mais qui partage, d’autre côte, beaucoup de choses en commun.

Il faut que j’aille. Un jour, peut être, je vais reprendre ce brouillon-ci et mes études sérieux d’Oshindonga.

En commencent ce brouillon, j’ai voulu écrire sur la tension entre mon désir d’aller en France pour étudier et d’apprendre l’Oshindonga. Désormais, je me rends compte du fait que cette tension n’existe plus. Je l’ai cassée. J’accepte la domination du français et en l’acceptant je conquiers contre lui.

Las Tensiones que animan mi vida

Alvarez, not Juan my friend, former roommate (for a week in Arezo) and classmate, but Alvarez the name of a woman writer who once said “it is through writing that we live the many lives that we cannot in real life.” I read this at the American Cultural Center one day when I was perusing the shelves – favorite procrastination pass time. I was supposed to be doing something related to my GRE prep (only a month and half left to go and I will be done with them!).But I cannot sit on the computer (good thing I am doing the paper based GRE), I hate it, and yet I am here, because the notepad I find too tedious. Ironically, I believe the notepad is doomed to disposal and with it my scribbles, while the laptop has some enduring quality. In fact, laptop bits and bytes are no less ephemeral than the writings on paper, if not more. At a click of a button they are gone, a the drop of water in the inner workings of the machine and they are scrambled forever.

Today was a fairly beautiful day. I was fortunate enough to run in the Italian lady I met here – signora Barbara Castelli. We had so much fun catching up, since she was away. Wait, should I be writing this in Italian now? How can I best conceal that fact that I am actually deeply an English thinking person, though I pass much of my time speaking and pondering in other tongues? Non importa, l’unica cosa che conta è che ti arrichia la vitta, la esistenza parlando in altre lingue, bensi che non le comandi, non le parli o pensi quanto bene che l’inglese, ma in fatti, pensiamo più profandamente in queste lingue straniere di quanto uno pensa, siccome possiamo usarli per esprimere quei desideri i quali sessuali o volgari che temiamo dire nel linguaggio materno per la stigma.

Lo spagnolo è più difficile di quanto uno pensa - Spanish is more difficult that one thinks it to be (said Barbara). Now I will surely be able to maintain and develop Italian whilst learning the langauge of Cervantes (its linguistic “cousin”. And what of my own language, Oshiwambo? I am learning it, albeit, at a slow pace, my own pace, using the book I downloaded from the net – that treatise of language Te ti, a self teaching guide complete with exercise that certain intrepid and dedicated peace corps volunteers put together with the help of the Oshindonga speakers they met here. There is so much tension between my learning and wielding of these languages. Like there is in between me composing my dances, writing to friends about Christ and our gay identity, being Namibian and Bulgaria, man and gay and who knows what else. “Sometimes, this tension threatens to tear us asunder”, says Alvarez.

I hope it will not. Yes, I will say, because I believe it, by the Lord’s grace I will find what is best!

I want your love!

“I want you love, love, love, love, I want your love…Jesus” Really I do and not just because Lady Gaga sings about it. She is caught in a bad romance, without sex, which is why she laments throughout the whole song. I, on the other hand, am in a relationship where sex and love – Eros – imbues it with meaning. Jesus is my lover!

“That’s crazy!” was what Abdul said yesterday when we were talking about sex with Jesus. The conversation over the dinner table in our small kitchen astounded me: we were really going deep into what it meant for me to fantasize and experience the Holy Spirit in the most orgasmic of ways. We were talking about Christianity, and yet we ventured into territory some would consider blasphemous. We were have a Shabbat dinner, but it was not Jewish – Pork and beef with Greek tzitzaki – totally not kosher. We ate well, but we did not indulge or overeat: Bienque d’habitude je suis un gourmande, cette fois-là la gourmandie n’a pas figuré au cours du diner : On a résisté à tout manger, puisque il fallait qu’il y avait de la bouffe pour mon frère qui était ailleurs. Néanmoins, on s’est bien remplie surtout avec le buffet que la bonne compagnie nous a offert.

Nous avons mangé et parlé et marché dehors pour lui trouver un taxi et on a prié ! Quelle joie !

So Jesus thank you so much. Si il mio amico è rimasto un po’ perplesso del mio discorso del eros con Gesù, ma nonostante tutto ciò, l’amore di Dio – quelle che è al di là di ogni piacere fisco, ci collegava in una compresione straordinaria. La fraternita. Poi oggi, il mio fratellion, si fratellina bensì sia più grande e alto di me, mangiava la zupa di fronte a me alla tavola. La zupa che io avevo preparato e reso bella – proprio da mangiare in un ristorante – ordonata da tre foglie de menta su un cucchiaio di yoghurt messo nella zupa arancione di lentiche. Appetizzante!

Now, is the time I conclude this blog entry. I need to write letters. I accumulate so many letters, many of them unfinished, or transcribed on paper and never sent. I often feel burdened by the vastness of it all, the cyber facebook universe and how many people I can write to as a result. As for the post, I use, but I guess I never post letters that I was supposed to. So now I will write some letters, those that are overdue. And then I will request mailing addresses for those who have written letters waiting for them.

I need to send a letter to my mother who is on holiday in Bulgaria. But she will be back before it reaches her, so then I will then just wait.

So then I need to get the addresses of :

Rickie Siegel

Coleman Conaley

Sagrado Nova-Flores

Mohammed Soushi

It is dusk, the Sabbath is almost over. I like to spend these last few moments writing to my dear friends.