BECOMING SWAHILI IN MEXICO CITY AND DAR ES SALAAM: IDENTITY IN THE LEARNING OF A GLOBALIZED LANGUAGE THROUGH AN AFRICAN STUDIES PROGRAM By Jamie Arielle Thomas A DISSERTATION Submitted to Michigan State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Second Language Studies – Doctor of Philosophy 2013 ABSTRACT BECOMING SWAHILI IN MEXICO CITY AND DAR ES SALAAM: IDENTITY IN THE LEARNING OF A GLOBALIZED LANGUAGE THROUGH AN AFRICAN STUDIES PROGRAM By Jamie Arielle Thomas This study investigates experiences in the learning of Swahili across two university programs in African studies, one in Dar es Salaam, and the other in Mexico City, with the goal of understanding how emerging social identities intersect with institutional language policies in the multilingual classroom. There is also the additional goal of clarifying the impact of global networks in the spread of the language from its eastern African origins to its present position in Latin America. The study unfolds as an examination of participants’ classroom activities and interviews, generating an account of how multiple identities surface through discourse and investments in language learning. Data are interpreted across thematic, critical, and descriptive discourse analyses to describe how material, ideological, and symbolic groups manifest among participants; illustrate how classroom talk reproduces or resists structures of power and inequality; and show how code choices are indicative of ideologies of standardization and monolingualism. Findings are presented as microanalyses of successive, linked class meetings in each study context. These data reveal classroom speech events to be mechanisms of guiding learners into the use of English and Spanish to analyze and comment on Standard Swahili. Accordingly, participation in classroom communities of practice requires English-language knowledge in both contexts, and centers upon the acquisition of Standard Swahili communicative competence. This leads to limited opportunities for participation in Standard Swahili talk, reifying the higher status of ex-colonial languages, and undermining institutional and ideological projections of Swahili as a transcontinental language. Many thousands of miles away from Tanzania’s principal economic center, the teaching of Swahili in Mexico City mirrors the teaching of the language in Dar es Salaam in that learners are guided in the rehearsal of mostly non-communicative practices in Swahili (e.g., word analysis, translation), while focusing on Tanzanian (and East African) cultural activities (e.g., storytelling) and events (e.g., the historical emergence of mumiani and Popo Bawa). These classroom practices in Swahili serve to localize learners’ sensibilities and communicative competencies; Swahili thereby becomes perceived as a mostly Tanzanian language. This greatly differs with concurrent institutional rhetoric on the value of Swahili as a Pan African and global language. These circumstances differentially affect learners; in Dar es Salaam, where Austrian, Chinese, Ghanaian, Italian, South Korean, and U.S. learners choose to study Swahili as part of study abroad, their investments in language learning are steady, and relate to searches for authenticity. For Cuban, Mexican, and Venezuelan learners in Mexico City, where study of Swahili is required, investments are lowered, and academic identities are challenged. Altogether, these data provide solid evidence of South-South networks in the spread of knowledge production on Africa. These same networks initially supported the founding of an African studies program in Mexico City, and continue to sustain the teaching of a growing contingent of new L2, L3, and L4 speakers of Swahili. Copyright by JAMIE ARIELLE THOMAS 2013 Kwa wanafunzi wanaopenda kujifunza na kuongea Kiswahili, na kwa watu ulimwenguni wanaoamini Kiswahili kina mustakabali muhimu Afrika na kila pahali. v ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS A chance meeting at the 2006 African Language Teachers Association conference led to the incredible opportunity I would eventually have some four years later to conduct field research in Mexico City for this dissertation. It had been a dream of mine to be able to draw upon my collection of experiences as a longtime learner of Spanish, Swahili, and Arabic, and use research to bring more visibility to the international learning of Swahili. For this, I am grateful to my language instructors over the years, and my undergraduate mentor, Dr. Cindy Brantmeier, for making applied linguistics cool! I also especially thank my committee, Drs. Debra Friedman, Susan Gass, Carol Myers-Scotton, and Deo Ngonyani, for their patience and understanding as this research transformed from a one-country plan into a transcontinental exploration that spanned almost two years of travel, interviews, and classroom observations. I am also exceedingly thankful for the connections, friendships, and collaborations I was able to build in Mexico City as a result of that 2006 conference and additional contacts through Drs. Arturo Saavedra, Mungai Mutonya, Maina Mutonya, and Aaron Rosenberg. I am equally appreciative of the long distance emails and Skype phone calls in 2009 that acquainted me with reporters and U.S. Embassy personnel in Tripoli. This led me down a path to communicating with professors and students in Tripoli and Sebha, Libya, who I essentially followed to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, subsequent to the outbreak of conflict across Libya in 2011. A special thank you to Dr. Atwaya Nchimbi, who steadfastly believed in this project and sponsored my Tanzania research permit, and the Nchimbi family who met me at the Dar es Salaam airport, made sure I had a wonderful place to stay near the university, and continue to keep in touch. Thank you also to Dr. Abubaker Oheda and the Oheda family, who were generous in their time and conversation, and friendly and encouraging from the very beginning. My additional thanks to Dr. Peter vi Mtesigwa, who helped me to get in initial contact with Drs. Oheda and Nchimbi while they were both still in Libya. My sincerest thank you to all of the many learners of various countries who participated in this research. Though, for the sake of brevity, some of these learners’ particulars are not included in this dissertation, everyone I came into contact with helped to inform my perspective. To these learners: Nakushukuru sana for unselfishly sending me SMSs to join group dinners, and for meeting up after classes for fascinating and enjoyable conversations. Our friendships resulted in me feeling even more invested in representing and sharing your experiences to the best of my ability. We’ll always have Jarritos! Throughout this research I have been struck by the similarity with which I have come to retrace the steps of Dr. Chege Githiora. His 2008 volume on language in the display of Afromexican identities and Mexican racial discourse was the result of his dissertation fieldwork in Mexico City (and elsewhere in Mexico) for a doctorate in linguistics at MSU in the 1990s. In October 2009, before my fieldwork was to begin, I was able to track him down to his present appointment as senior lecturer at the School for Oriental and African Studies in London, and we spoke by phone. Our brief conversation about the teaching of Swahili in Mexico City added to my confidence in this project, and further informed my fieldwork approach. Now, some four years after having followed in Dr. Githiora’s footsteps it has become clear that our similarly challenging experiences as morenos and negros (and I add to this my time as an mzungu in Tanzania) have made us stronger, more introspective, and socially aware individuals, better acquainted with the remarkable legacy of the African Diaspora. I also acknowledge the funding sources that supported the successive stages of this project: an SSRC-Mellon Mays Predoctoral Research Grant, MSU University Distinguished vii Fellowship, two SSRC-Mellon Mays Graduate Research Enhancement Grants, Fulbright-Hays Doctoral Dissertation Research Abroad Grant, Middlebury College Dissertation Fellowship, Middlebury College Faculty Research Assistant Fund, Middlebury College Undergraduate Collaborative Research Fund, SSRC-Mellon Mays Dissertation Completion Fellowship. Many special thanks to my research assistants over the years: Linsly Church, Christina González, HiMi Kanaumi, Betty Kobia, Priscilla Makundi, Barbara Ofosu-Somuah, Hyunju Park, Darién Sanchez Nicolas, Amy Scanes-Wolfe, Glory Seruhere, Monica Song. A colossal thank you also to my close MSU friends for raising me up through battles big and small: my first friend in East Lansing, Dr. Cozetta Shannon, who paved the way and showed me how a young, African American woman professor rolls, and to soon-to-be Drs. Leigh-Anne Goins, D’Andrea Jacobs, Sheena Horsford, and Assa Dembelé who kept me laughing. A shout out to Dr. Soo Hyon Kim among my friends in the SLS program, and Dr. Uju Anya who set an example as an African American applied linguist and gave me amazing advice. Thanks also to my (un)official faculty mentors at Middlebury College for their positivity and counsel. Crucially, I was able to rally and make it through the writing stage of this project with the guidance and support of my SSRC-Mellon Mays Dissertation Writing Seminar cohort and mentors, and I graciously thank them all, and soon-to-be Dr. Shively Jackson-Smith in particular, for scheduling and attending Google+ online writing hangouts throughout Spring 2013. Finally, I am eternally grateful to my family. Mom, seeing you become Dr. Billie Thomas was the greatest proof that I could do this. Thank you all—Mom, Dad, Debi, and Dee, for your unyielding encouragement, ‘Dr. Jamie’ snail mail, help with moving and storing my stuff through the years, enthusiasm for proofreading, and willingness to travel and support me in my defense and graduation. Your presence was priceless. PH-inisheD! viii TABLE OF CONTENTS LIST OF TABLES ..................................................................................................................... xiii LIST OF FIGURES .................................................................................................................... xiv KEY TO ABBREVIATIONS .................................................................................................... xvii Chapter 1 Introduction: Theory and Method .............................................................................................. Scope and Theoretical Significance of the Study ...................................................................... Theoretical Framework .............................................................................................................. Language Classroom as Community of Practice (CofP) ...................................................... Investments in (Imagined) Communities (of Practice) .......................................................... Dimensions of Social Identity in Language Learning ........................................................... Critical Postcolonial Interactions, ‘Third Spaces’, and Others in ‘Becoming Swahili’ ....... Previous Studies on Language Use in Postcolonial Classrooms .......................................... Other Theoretical Considerations: Intersections in Applied Linguistics, Diaspora Studies, and the Study of Africa ............................................................................. Methodology ............................................................................................................................. Fieldwork: Participant Observation and Interviewing ........................................................ Dar es Salaam Interviews. .............................................................................................. Mexico City Interviews. ................................................................................................... Materials Collection. ....................................................................................................... Transcription and Data Analysis ......................................................................................... Writing Critical, Classroom-Based, Linguistic Ethnography ............................................... Chapter 2 Background and Setting: From Precolonial and Pre-Columbian To Modern and Urban ......... Introduction ............................................................................................................................... Background Part One: Constructing Tanzania Through the Historical Politics of Swahili ...... Early Coastal Politics .......................................................................................................... Colonial Linguistics and the European Encounter .............................................................. The Standardization of Swahili and the Introduction of English ........................................... Swahili Language and African Identity(ies) .......................................................................... Background Part Two: Swahili and the Study of African in Modern Mexico .......................... ix 1 1 3 4 7 11 13 19 21 24 25 27 29 29 30 33 36 36 37 38 44 52 59 61 Colonial Encounters, the ‘Third Root’, and Mestizaje ........................................................ 63 Modern Alliances in the Development of African Studies in Mexico ................................... 71 The Dar es Salaam Setting: Classroom and Participants .......................................................... 75 Early Impressions .................................................................................................................. 75 Swahili Studies at the University .......................................................................................... 79 Language Teaching Methodology .......................................................................................... 81 Dar es Salaam Participants .................................................................................................... 83 Ghanaian Students. ......................................................................................................... 84 Chinese Students. ................................................................................................................ 86 South Korean Students. .................................................................................................... 89 Austrian Student. .............................................................................................................. 90 Italian Student. ................................................................................................................. 91 American Students. ........................................................................................................... 92 Summary. ......................................................................................................................... 97 Ethnographic Vignette #1: ‘Ukosefu wa Vitabu’ ..................................................................101 Ethnographic Vignette #2: Renting Bicycles in Dar es Salaam ........................................... 119 ‘Wazungu’ as index of difference and authenticity. ....................................................... 124 ‘Wazungu’ as an index of Tanzanian in-group identity. ................................................ 134 ‘Wazungu’ as language ideology and race-based construct. .................................. 137 English as linguistic capital. ................................................................................... 154 The Mexico City Setting: Classroom and Participants .............................................................. 161 Lasting Impressions ............................................................................................................. 161 African Studies at the University ......................................................................................... 164 Language Teaching Methodology .........................................................................................169 Mexico City Participants ...................................................................................................... 170 University Learners. ....................................................................................................... 170 Community Learners. ..................................................................................................... 175 Learning at the University. ............................................................................................. 176 Learning in the Community. ........................................................................................... 182 Ethnographic Vignette #1: ‘Waarabu ni Wakorofi’ ............................................................. 185 Some Closing Observations ....................................................................................................... 204 Chapter 3 Transregional Parallels: Intersecting Displays of Multilingual Competence in the Language Classroom ........................................................................................................... 206 Introduction ............................................................................................................................... 206 Ethnographic Vignette #1: Bit vs. Bite in Dar es Salaam ......................................................... 208 English in the Teaching of Swahili ...................................................................................... 225 Ethnographic Vignette #2: ‘Ninafurahi Sana Sana Sana!’ in Mexico City ............................... 229 Ethnographic Vignette #3: ‘Do You Know “Kunya”?’ in Dar es Salaam ................................ 241 x English in the Teaching of Swahili ...................................................................................... 252 Teachers’ Perspectives. ................................................................................................ 252 Learners’ Perspectives and Investments in Language Learning. ..................................255 Multilingual Considerations. ........................................................................................ 259 Ethnographic Vignette #4: ‘Swahili Tafadhali’ in Mexico City ............................................... 264 Language Choice as Potential Display of Communicative Competence ............................ 273 Hierarchy of languages in the program. ....................................................................... 277 Closing Considerations .............................................................................................................. 283 Chapter 4 Teaching Storytelling in Dar es Salaam: The (Re)invention of Hadithi as Lie, Conformity, and Resistance ...................................................................................................... 285 Introduction ............................................................................................................................... 286 Hearing the Call of the Story ..................................................................................................... 298 Ethnographic Vignette #1: How to Tell The Story (Morning Class) ........................................ 300 Directed Re-telling of Story Script as Part of Guided Repetition ....................................... 321 Ethnographic Vignette #2: Putting the Story Into Their Own Words ....................................... 328 Background: Telling the Story in Tanzania .............................................................................. 336 Ethnographic Vignette #3: Bahati’s Story, Mtoto Sitaki ........................................................... 351 Ethnographic Vignette #4: Gladys’ Story, Paka na Pan(y)a .................................................... 359 Post-story Activity: Scripted double-voicedness .................................................................. 368 Bahati re-tells Gladys’ story. ....................................................................................... 371 Ethnographic Vignette #5: Bakari Participates in Post-Story Word Analysis .......................... 384 Ethnographic Vignette #6: Hamisi’s Story, Mwizi na Jengele ................................................. 392 Ethnographic Vignette #7: Similarities in Hadithi and Anansesεm .......................................... 405 Conclusions: Intersubjectivity in the New Swahili-language Story .......................................... 418 Chapter 5 Zombies, Vampires, and Swahilistas in Mexico City: The Problem of Performing Language Ideology in African Studies ...................................................................................... 425 Introduction ............................................................................................................................... 426 Ethnographic Vignette #1: ‘No Es Solamente Sobre La Lengua’.............................................. 430 The Language-Classroom Discussion Continues: ‘África No Es Un País’ ....................... 435 Some Concluding Thoughts on the Language-Classroom Discussion ............................... 455 Africanists and Swahilists in Mexico City ................................................................................ 456 Discussing Vampires and Chupasangre in Mexico City .......................................................... 470 Ethnographic Vignette #2: Wazimamoto as Evidence of ‘un choque cultural’ ........................ 480 Ethnographic Vignette #3: ‘¿Qué era el mumiani?’ ................................................................. 491 Ethnographic Vignette #4: ‘Les simba bulaya’ on the Book Cover .......................................... 515 xi Ethnographic Vignette #5: Popo Bawa and the ‘Vampiros de la Habana’ .............................. 524 The Essentializing of Africa Through the Euro-American Media and its Zombies ................. 549 Ethnographic Vignette #6: Resident Evil 5 and the Imagining of Africa from North America ........................................................................................................................... 561 Epilogues and Conclusions ........................................................................................................ 583 Chapter 6 Conclusions ............................................................................................................................... 590 Communities of Practice in the Teaching of Swahili .......................................................... 591 Linguistic Inequality ............................................................................................................ 593 Swahili as an Ecumenical Language ................................................................................... 595 Becoming Swahili and Counter-Identities ........................................................................... 599 Intersections in Second Language Research, African-Language Pedagogy, and African Studies ............................................................................................................. 600 APPENDICES ........................................................................................................................... 606 Appendix A: Transcription Conventions .............................................................................. 607 Appendix B: Table 8. Excerpts from interviews with Dar es Salaam participants. .............. 609 Appendix C: Table 9. Excerpts from interviews with Mexico City participants (university learners). ........................................................................................................... 621 REFERENCES .......................................................................................................................... 629 xii LIST OF TABLES Table 1. Dar es Salaam participants featured in the study, grouped by classroom excerpts in which they appear. ........................................................................................... 86 Table 2. Mexico City participants featured in the study. ................................................... 172 Table 3. Excerpts from interviews with Mexico City participants (community learners and stakeholders). .............................................................................................................. 184 Table 4. ‘Kiswahili’ in titles of English-language publications cited in this study. .......... 222 Table 5. Sequence of key speech events concerning Standard Swahili and English communicative competence in morning intermediate Swahili class, in terms of linguistic knowledge (L) interaction skills (I), cultural knowledge (C). ........................... 295 Table 6. Sequence of key speech events concerning Standard Swahili and English communicative competence in afternoon intermediate Swahili class, in terms of linguistic knowledge (L) interaction skills (I), cultural knowledge (C), and story completion (SC). ................................................................................................................ 296 Table 7. Sequence of speech events concerning Standard Swahili communicative competence in African history class. ................................................................................. 430 Table 8. Excerpts from interviews with Dar es Salaam participants. ................................ 612 Table 9. Excerpts from interviews with Mexico City participants (university learners). ............................................................................................................................. 624 xiii LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1. Stacks of bananas for sale in an open-air market near Ubungo bus station. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 6 October 2011. .......................................................................................... 43 Figure 2. Oranges for sale across the street from downtown Kariakoo indoor and open-air market. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 2 September 2011. ............................................................. 45 Figure 3. Courtyard of Islamic school in Stone Town, Zanzibar, Tanzania. 12 February 2012. ......................................................................................................................................... 47 Figure 4. In the language classroom a Ghanaian learner of Swahili wears a stylized top bearing the phrase, 'Kiswahili kwa umoja wa Afrika' (Swahili for African unity). Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 2 November 2011. ...................................................................................... 61 Figure 5. 'El Yanga: Negro Africano precursor de la libertad de los negros esclavos' (Yanga: Black African precursor of the freedom of the Black slaves). Yanga, Mexico. 25 April 2011. ........................................................................................................................... 66 Figure 6. Close-up of 1500s segmented painting of castas, particularly #15, 'Tente en el Aire, con Mulata = Noteentiendo'. Tepozotlán, Mexico. 2 January 2013. ................................ 69 Figure 7. Negrito chocolate pastry sweets packaged by Bimbo brand. Mexico City, Mexico. 23 February 2011. ..................................................................................................................... 72 Figure 8. Daladala 'Big Fish & Phat Joe' en route to Kariakoo downtown. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 16 September 2011. ................................................................................................. 78 Figure 9. Maua, a learner in the beginning Swahili class refers to her peers in class by their Swahili names, Faki and Akida. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 1 November 2011. ....................... 96 Figure 10. Faki's essay entitled, 'Changes to Campus' in which he describes himself as 'Mtanzania'. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 24 November 2011. .................................................... 99 xiv Figure 11. View of advanced Swahili class, with students seated before class starts. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 15 November 2011. .................................................................................... 103 Figure 12. View of the exterior of the Etiopía Metrobús station. Mexico City, Mexico. 15 April 2011. .......................................................................................................................... 163 Figure 13 . University learners complete cloze exercises while listening to a BBC Swahili radio news broadcast. Mexico City, Mexico. 27 January 2011. ............................................... 171 Figure 14. First page of cloze worksheet for BBC Swahili segment 'Mti wa Krismasi wa thamani zaidi' (Christmas tree of great value). Mexico City, Mexico. 20 January 2011. ........ 173 Figure 15. First page of corrected Swahili essay: 'Cote d'Ivoire: Tatizo la warais wa wili' (Cote d'Ivoire: Problem of two presidents). Mexico City, Mexico. 11 April 2011. ................. 174 Figure 16. 'Jina langu ni Vania. Uhuru na kazi' (My name is Vania. Freedom and work), Cellphone text message from a community language learner. Mexico City, Mexico. 10 November 2010. ....................................................................................................................... 175 Figure 17. 'Curso Taller introductorio de swahili en el Senado' (Introductory Swahili workshop course at the Senate). Mexico City, Mexico. 9 October 2011. ................................ 183 Figure 18. 'II Semana de África' (2nd Africa Week). Mexico City, Mexico. 7 April 2011. ... 183 Figure 19. 'Kifo cha Gaddafi...Imefichuka' (The Death of Gaddafi Has [Come Out in the Open]), leading headline from local, weekly Christian tabloid, Ukweli na Uwazi [Truth and Openess]. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 25-31 October 2011. ....................................................... 244 Figure 20. Ndoto's personal notes on Swahili numbers 1-20,000 transliterated into Hangul (modern Korean script), with English 'or'. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 15 December 2011. ..... 263 xv Figure 21. 'En febrero Chedraui cuesta menos, muuucho menos' (In February Chedraui costs less, muuuch less), advertisement from Chedraui stores. Mexico City, Mexico. 5 February 2011. ...........................................................................................................................271 Figure 22. Classroom whiteboard following vampire discussion. Mexico City, 30 March 2011. ......................................................................................................................................... 487 Figure 23. Front cover of Speaking with vampires: Rumor and history in colonial Africa, by Luise White (2000). ............................................................................................................. 520 Figure 24. Sheva Alomar tattoo in Resident Evil 5 videogame. ............................................... 577 Figure 25. Quinto Semana de África en México. Mexico City, 24 May 2011. ........................ 582 xvi KEY TO ABBREVIATIONS ALTA African Language Teachers Association APP Applicative infix AU African Union BA Bachelor’s degree BAKITA Baraza la Kiswahili la Taifa (National Swahili Council, Tanzania) CLACSO Consejo latinomericano de ciencas sociales (Latin American Council for Social Science) CODESRIA Council for the Development of Social Science Research in Africa CofP Community of Practice COSTECH Commission for Science and Technology (Tanzania) DDRA Doctoral Dissertation Research Abroad ECOWAS Economic Community of West African States FUT Future tense IRE Initiation, Response, Evaluation (sequence of interaction) L1 First-language L2 Second-language L+ L3, L4, or beyond (multilingual language learner) LCTL Less Commonly Taught Language MA Master’s degree OBJ Object PAST Past tense xvii REL Relative marker SLA Second Language Acquisition SLS Second Language Studies SUBJ Subject TOEFL Test of English as a Foreign Language TUKI Taasisi ya Uchunguzi wa Kiswahili (Institute of Swahili Research) U.S. United States (of America) xviii Chapter 1 Introduction: Theory and Method Scope and Theoretical Significance of the Study Swahili has truly succeeded in spreading ‘beyond the boundaries’, as Mazrui (2007) describes, first as a regional medium of inter-ethnic communication and liturgical organ, next as a literary vehicle, and more recently as the official language of the East African Community and working language of the African Union. Still, a discussion of the global spread of the language through formal instruction is not a part of Mazrui’s celebrated volume. This dissertation responds to this gap by investigating the role of social identity in the learning of Swahili beyond eastern Africa, by two separate groups of African studies majors in Mexico City and Dar es Salaam. While Cuban, Mexican, and Venezuelan learners study together in Mexico’s capital city, study abroad students from Austria, China, Ghana, Italy, and the U.S. share classrooms in Tanzania’s principal economic center. This dissertation is a transregional, multi-scalar ethnography of communication in its focus on the language classroom as the collaborative product of expert and novice speakers within larger, intersecting material and imagined communities of city and nation, and global networks of Swahili-language use. Data gathered over the course of 18 months (2010-2012) of participant observations and interviews across both settings reveals how the notion of community within this research encompasses a collective of shared linguistic expectations, as well as a site of struggle in the development and performance of social identity and scholarship through language use. As a classroom-based account of language learning and language use, this dissertation constitutes a significantly unique contribution to the interdisciplinary fields of applied linguistics, 1 African studies, and language policy and planning, respectively. In its attention to the role of social identity in language learning, and tandem concern for the sometimes liminal, multilingual experience of the learner, this research acknowledges the analysis by Higgins (2011a, p. 117) on intercultural third spaces in ‘the possibility to become Swahili’. Further, through an exploration of how language study is conceived within the field of African studies, this research assesses the implications of the area studies model on the conception of Africa, African identity(ies), and knowledge production on Africa from material and imagined positions within and outside of the African continent. In this, there is a particular concern for the linked roles of participants as actors in Swahili-language learning activity and practitioners in the field of African studies. Ultimately, these explorations of social identity and language learning lead to revelations on the implications of language policy and planning in the daily, lived experience of the learner, teacher, and speaker, all of this relating to the social histories of language(s), including language contact, colonization, and globalization. Within this research, the term Swahiliphone World is introduced to encompass the global diffusion of the language and its accompanying ideologies of language use, thereby challenging existing studies of language in African countries that place primacy on European languages in the constructions of Anglophone, Francophone, and Lusophone Africa, respectively. Importantly, there is additional attention to the distinction between Swahili cultural identity, Swahiliness, and Swahili language, each having their own equivalents in Swahili as Mswahili, Uswahili, and Kiswahili, respectively. This research also differentiates between ‘Africa’ as a geographical referent and a sociohistorical construction, relating the critical, postcolonial orientation of this work. Accordingly, data analysis has appropriately entailed the relating of potential intersections and discontinuities in multiple perspectives, linguistic varieties, and identities 2 within the language classroom, as illustrated by linguistic behaviors in the classroom and during interviews. These potential intersections and discontinuities become the basis for this account of language learning, holistic in its accounting of perspectives, and critical in its exploration of the (re)production of power, authority, and prestige within language learning. This study is also critical in its acknowledgement of the role of the researcher—my role—in the eliciting of lived experiences during interviews, and the influencing of the classroom realities in which I participated, as well as my control in the construction of this account and the resulting representations of participating stakeholders, institutions, and communities. Together, all of these considerations locate this research among a growing collection of sociocultural studies in critical applied linguistics that regard the postcolonial and poststructural with a goal of exposing and challenging linguistic inequality. Theoretical Framework Given that predominant discourse on Swahili centers on Tanzania and Kenya (Caplan & Topan, 2004; Kihore & Chuwa, 2004; Mazrui, 2007; Mazrui & Mazrui, 1996; Mazrui & Shariff, 1994; Topan, 2008; Whiteley, 1969), and has not yet widely absorbed the reality of numerous foreign language speakers of the language throughout the world, one of the goals of this study is to present a more holistic assessment of the international and intercontinental networks in the ongoing spread of the language. Most important, this study illuminates the role of social identity in the learning of Swahili through a focus on classroom language use as talk-in-interaction within the classroom as a community of practice oriented toward the acquisition of Swahili by learners. The activity of the community of practice is theoretically conceived as situated learning in the postcolonial, urban contexts of Dar es Salaam and Mexico City, respectively. Fittingly, an 3 intercontinental view enables this research to account for multiple factors in the situated learning of Swahili as a modern second/foreign language across these contexts. These include (1) expanding networks of language-focused study abroad in Swahiliphone countries such as Tanzania, (2) the worldwide, historical role of university programs in African studies in sponsoring and obliging Swahili-language study, and (3) the emergence of overlapping diasporas, flows in knowledge production, imagined communities, and identities within these developments. Language Classroom as Community of Practice (CofP) The learning of a second (L2) or additional language in the instructed foreign language learning environment involves interaction between classroom actors as learners or experts of skills valued in that setting (e.g., ‘felelés or oral account-giving in Hungarian’ in Duff, 1995; ‘pure Ukrainian language’ in Friedman, 2009). Learning in this setting consists of the participatory opportunities in valued skills or social practices created in the interactional context between these actors (Haneda, 2006). In this way, learning is a process that includes ‘changing participation’ in any number of interactional contexts (Lave, 1993, p. 6), such as the language classroom, which can be viewed as a community entailing mutual engagement and shared repertoires of social practice (Wenger, 1998). This view of the language classroom as a landscape of variable opportunities for participation in social practices can be tied to the notion of a community of practice (CofP) (Lave & Wenger, 1991), in which learning is a ‘fundamentally social phenomenon’ (Wenger, 1998, p. 3). Put in another way, an individual’s involvement in a CofP consists of participation in the social practices of the shared collective of 4 the community; a learner’s involvement in a language classroom-as-CofP consists of participation in the social practices of the classroom collective. What is key here is that the notion of community within formal language learning becomes defined by the degree of shared practice among actors. This may include shared linguistic behaviors informed by language ideologies of predominant classroom actors (e.g., Pomerantz, 2002). As Wenger (1998, p. 114) explains, ‘In addition to being a source of boundary for outsiders and insiders, practice can also become a form of connection’. In this sense, the demarcation of a community involves the location of a boundary in practices between actors; the language learning classroom may be identified as a community because its actors meet for a particular, shared purpose—to engage in the teaching and learning of new, additional language. By that same token, the location of a community can illuminate potential peripheries and overlaps in practice, whereby members of a particular community can engage with the practices of another, or transform these practices by valuing or prioritizing them differently than another community. Within this view, it is possible to interpret linguistic action as a response and participatory practice that does not necessarily synchronize with institutional boundaries. Under a different set of circumstances, the mutual engagement in practice (e.g., language ideology, language use, identification of the group or self and others) may very well fall within the material boundaries of university, city, and nation, or more aptly relate to ideological concepts of group and place (e.g., Swahiliphone, Diaspora, Pan Africa). It stands to reason that ‘as communities of practice differentiate themselves and also interlock with each other, they constitute a complex social landscape of shared practices, boundaries, peripheries, overlaps, connections, and encounters’ (Wenger, 1998, p. 118). Though originally formulated by Lave and Wenger (1991) for non-school settings, the 5 utility of CofP as a theoretical construct comes in its ability to aid researchers in dissecting the activity of the language classroom as it relates to language acquisition as a process. This process, viewed through the metaphor of participation (Pavlenko & Lantolf, 2000), has been described as a highly personal experience in which learners engage language in movements between communities of practice, and between the identities they construct for themselves (or are constructed for them by others) within these communities of practice (e.g., Morita, 2004). As learners become more proficient practitioners in a CofP, the nature of their participation may change in relation to their sense of self. Legitimate peripheral participation, as a sub-construct of CofP, unfolds the larger notion of participation into a continuum where learning can be seen to involve multiple, simultaneous memberships within separate (possibly intersecting) communities of practice, to varying degrees (Wenger, 1998). On such a continuum, non-participation, as described by Norton (2001), can be interpreted as a manifestation of resistance, an artifact of agency (also Miller & Zuengler, 2011). For, according to Wenger (1998), ‘We not only produce our identities through the practices we engage in, but we also define ourselves through the practices we do not engage in’ (p. 164). To sum, the view of learning, and particularly language learning, as participation guides researchers in second language studies to examine language use in context, in addition to ways of acting, ways of knowing, and ways of being a member or non-member of a CofP. With regards to the context of the present study, appropriate areas of investigation include (1) the potential performance of identities through classroom discourse, (2) the possible manufacturing of language-specific identities based upon shared language ideologies, and (3) accepted ways of performing scholarship local to the academic CofP. 6 Investments in (Imagined) Communities (of Practice) As opposed to face-to-face, material communities, in which interactions and relationships between members are immediately tangible, the groups of people connected through imagined communities are never completely known to each other personally; they are connected through their supposed shared values, skills, or linguistic behaviors and ideologies (Anderson, 2006). Language classroom practices, as artifacts of language ideology, may over time lead learners to embrace certain cultural and political values (Duff, 2002; Friedman, 2010), divest in language learning completely (Moore, 1999), or create linguistic innovations that bespeak their own priorities (Fuller, 2007; Rampton, 1999). This is consistent with a view of language as cultural practice and instances of talk as social action (e.g., Duranti, 1997). Kanno and Norton (2003) discuss Katarina, a Polish immigrant to Canada, and Rui, an adolescent Japanese-English bilingual, as examples of learners whose social and linguistic behaviors relate to their respective, personal senses of an imagined community. For Katarina, her larger connection to a global community of teaching professionals helped her to maintain this identity in the face of unsatisfying L2 English encounters. Away from Japan for most of his life, Rui held on to the idealized images of the Japan he remembered, and made consistent efforts to maintain his Japanese proficiency in order to keep a viable connection to his homeland speech community. Further, Kanno and Norton draw upon Norton’s (2001) conception of imagined community in language learning: ‘A learner’s imagined community invite[s] an imagined identity, and a learner’s investment in the target language must be understood within this context’ (p. 166). Through the lens of imagined community, the CofP construct is extended to include actors without any personal tie to or interactional experience with the learner; it also 7 creates a framework for discussing the relevance of imagined identities within language learning as social participation. Murphey, Jin, and Li-Chi (2005) also make use of imagined community to ‘describe how language learners are stimulated to invest or not in their language learning depending on the communities they see, or imagine, themselves belonging to in the present or future’ (p. 84). Their study of learners’ language learning histories written in second-language (L2) English provides examples of learners hesitant to include the L2 in their self-concept, or influenced by their instructor to participate more fully. These language learning histories provide access to learners’ self-authored experiences in the L2, through the L2, and illustrate their use of language in the description of their own changing participation. ‘I wondered why we had to learn foreign language in spite of being Japanese.’ (Yumiko, p. 87) ‘At first, I did not like English very much. But I liked our English teacher. I wanted to be praised by him so I was enthusiastic in the class.’ (Yoshiko, p. 90) Surfacing in learners’ L2 writings on their experiences with the L2 (or additional language) are reluctances in the confirmation of the self as a speaker of the L2 (cf. Low, 1999, on the interpretation of L2 writings through researchers’ positionalities; Anya, 2011, on factors of race and ethnicity in language learning). For some learners unclear about their own status in the L2 community, the act of changing their participation in the L2 community involves a continual search for authenticity and selfhood. Taken a step further, the notion of authenticity can be related to the concept of insider scholarship. The insider scholar legitimizes his or her scholarly claims by asserting a selfrepresentation as a member of the group they interpret or study in their work (Anyidoho, 2008). 8 As such, insider scholars posit a connection between themselves and the group of people they share attributes or social practices with—an imagined community. The focus on Swahili language learners as students in the field of African studies in this research begs the question of whether and how Swahili is implicated as a tool of self-representation in these students’ scholarship. This touches upon CofP and imagined community as they relate to the construction of identity, but applies these constructs to a study context in which language learning is specifically linked to apprenticeship within an academic field of study. This apprenticeship within an academic field or into an academic discourse community, as Duff (2010) terms it, can be enacted through social practice ‘in terms of (a) learning a language, (b) learning through language, and (c) learning about language’ (p. 173). In this way, normative classroom practices of heteroglossia, as well as the enculturating role of teaching materials, including textbooks, may play a role in this development, and in the manifestation of multiple subjectivities in the activity of language learning. Additionally, the transregional phenomena of globalization, coupled with ideologies of the Other as opposed to the Insider, can figure into the experiences of learners, driving negotiations of identity, and the reevaluation of investments in language learning (e.g., Kim & Duff, 2012). Where such investments particularly relate to membership within a greater, imagined community, such as ‘Irish’ (Jewett, 2010), or ‘English-speaker’ (Murphey, Jin, & Li-Chi, 2005), learners may weigh the potential political, personal, and economic drawbacks and gains to language learning. In this way, the considerations of Sudanese refugees learning Standard American English in the U.S. (Warriner, 2007) and African American study abroad learners of Portuguese in Brazil (Anya, 2011), may not be so different from those of the L2 Englishspeaking Polish immigrant to Canada, and Japanese-American learner in Japan that Kanno and 9 Norton (2003) describe. In each of these cases, language learning is a conduit through which learners are able to make eventual social gains, but not without exposing themselves to potential social risk, as they attempt to align themselves with new, imagined and material identities. A potentially key part of this experience, as has been observed across teacher-centered classroom contexts internationally, is the learning of how to participate successfully in initiation— response—evaluation (IRE) sequences (Arthur & Martin, 2006; Brock-Utne & Holmarsdottir, 2004; Duff, 2010; Mehan, 1979; Sinclair & Coulthard, 1975), as well as other interactional routines including role-play sequences (Schick, 2008), and narration patterns such as storytelling (Ko, Schallert, & Walters, 2003; Ochs & Capps, 1996). IRE sequences, in particular, may include a teacher’s question, a student’s response and attempt at an answer, and the teacher’s subsequent judgment of its correctness or appropriateness. Each of these genres of speech events can become opportunities for agentive displays of social identity (Holmes & Marra, 2011; Hull & Katz, 2006; Nicholas, Rossiter, & Abbott, 2011). Additionally, these notions of community of practice and imagined community align with the concept of speech community, insofar as language learning can be understood as accomplished through an ongoing sequence of speech events in the development of communicative competence (e.g., Hornberger, 1989; Hymes, 1996). According to Saville-Troike (2003) communicative competence in a language encompasses ability in three main dimensions, including linguistic knowledge, interaction skills, and cultural knowledge. Within ethnographies of communication oriented toward the theoretical concept of community of practice, such as the study by Duff (2002), communicative competence is considered to be the set of communicative knowledge and skills shared by a speech community, or classroom, or university, or larger setting. Such studies combine microanalyses and macro-analyses to situate data within an 10 understanding of the contribution of sociopolitical factors to the defining of speech communities and the occurrences of linguistic inequalities in educational and other settings (e.g., Hornberger, 2011; Hymes, 1996; McCarty, Collins, & Hopson, 2011). The linguistic activity within communities of practice or speech communities can therefore entail learner participation in multiple, overlapping communities, wherein ‘second language may, for example, usher in alternative subjectivities’ and provide opportunities where ‘interlocutors can revision their gendered self-construction and can engage in informal social relationships appropriate to certain second language situations’ (Ochs & Schiefflin, 2001, p. 16). Dimensions of Social Identity in Language Learning Through a myriad of interview excerpts and mostly French journal writings by Alice, Kinginger (2007) relates the story of this learner, an adult who, before traveling to France as an American study abroad student, imagines the country as ‘rolling fields of green grass and clean everywhere and just fresh’ (p. 227). In her mind’s eye, Alice looked forward to engaging ‘friendly old people and even young people who would […] tell me about themselves and teach me about being French, and help me with the language and would ask me questions about my country [sic]’ (p. 228). Alice’s desire to represent herself as a competent speaker of French intertwines with her imagining of a receptive French-speaking CofP. Later, following a low point during her tenure abroad, gaining entrée into a group of local French students boosts Alice’s sense of self-worth, and allows her to briefly represent herself as a speaker of French. Her evolving social identity as a speaker of French, and American female, reflect her changing participation in her language learning environments. 11 The nuanced, multilayered account presented by Kinginger falls in line with poststructuralist framings of identity as a highly complex, dynamic construct (Block, 2007, 2010). Such an account captures the ambivalence of a language learner’s experience and negotiation of many aspects of their identity, including their social identity as a speaker of the language of study. The term social identity refers to an individual’s constructed image in social practice (Wenger, 1998). Insofar as changing participation implicates a change in social identity, identity is ‘both a category of practice and a category of analysis’ (Brubaker & Cooper, 2000, p. 4). To clarify this discussion, the construct of identity can be productively unpacked into dimensions: (1) Self-identification and the identification and categorization by others; (2) Selfunderstanding; (3) Collective identities (Brubaker & Cooper, 2000). These dimensions can be related to concepts introduced above; the notion of self-representation can be understood as the outward manifestation of self-identification and self-understanding, such as the representation of self through discourse and social practice (e.g., Miller & Zuengler, 2011; Pavlenko & Lantolf, 2000). Authenticity surfaces in an individual’s understanding of their own legitimate participation within a CofP. One’s sense of authenticity is legitimized and ratified through corroborative identification and categorization by other, perhaps more expert members of the CofP. Within this framework, collective identities indicate the posited connections between the individual and a larger group, or potential imagined community, based upon shared attributes or social practices, such as shared linguistic ideologies (cf. Anderson, 2006). Through this view, identity may be conceived as that which an individual does or performs and responds to. To use Block’s (2007) conclusions: ‘Although identity is conditioned by social interaction and social structures, it conditions social interaction and social structures at the same time’ (p. 866). Given 12 this two-way interaction, social identity serves as a site of struggle for the individual (Norton Peirce, 1995). In the present research, the analysis of the social identity of individuals within the Swahili-language classroom-as-CofP (and the classroom as situated within the larger settings of the university, city, and nation) complements previous poststructural studies implicating social identity in language learning (e.g., Anya, 2011; Cashman, 2005; Kinginger, 2004; Miller & Zuengler, 2011; Morita, 2004; Rampton, 2007; Spotti, 2007). Critical Postcolonial Interactions, ‘Third Spaces’, and Others in ‘Becoming Swahili’ The examination of codeswitching across primarily Swahili, English, and Kikuyu in Nairobi, Kenya, and English and Shona in Harare, Zimbabwe, by Myers-Scotton (1995) constituted the first comprehensive, transnational study of conversational interactions in African countries. Even as Social motivations for codeswitching focuses on non-classroom settings of language use, including buses, cars, and bars, it is of particular importance to the present research because it demonstrates how power and the display of social identity are continually shifting in postcolonial African geography. The study also documented how codeswitching is consistently ubiquitous in these contexts. In the analysis of multiple contemporary exchanges, everyday codeswitching is acknowledged as a product of multiple factors: (1) the colonial legacy of English, (2) the historical ascendance of ‘Standard Swahili’ in Kenya (and eastern Africa) through German and British colonial appropriation and standardization of the Zanzibari Swahili variety, (3) the construction, naming, and standardization of ‘Shona’ by colonial linguists from a variety of languages spoken across colonial Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), Portuguese East Africa (now Mozambique), and what would become Zambia and Botswana. One particular 13 conversational exchange presented in the study, illustrates intersecting displays of power and authenticity in the use of Swahili and English between a university student interested in the conductor’s choice of language on a Nairobi city bus: Student: Kwa nini unasema Kizungu na yeye? Why do you speak English with him? Conductor: (said with a laugh) Do you think we don’t speak any English? We went to school and we can speak very good English—better than you! (After Myers-Scotton, 1995, p. 31) Within the study, this example (above) is used as evidence of how in Nairobi ‘education and other forms of modernity are being expressed in English’ (p. 31). Additionally, though not discussed by Myers-Scotton (1995), the exchange also illustrates how the term Kizungu, a complex of the ‘ki-’ morphemic prefix indicating a language, and the nominal root ‘-zungu’ (translated by Myers-Scotton as European) is used by Kenya-based speakers of Swahili to refer to English, or European language. Although the term Kiingereza features in varieties of Swahili, and more narrowly refers to English, it is not used here, which may indicate a deliberate attempt by the student at constructing English as a distant, non-African and othered language within this context; a language the student believes the conductor should not use or want to use. If that was the case, then the conductor’s retort, conveyed in English, displays a personal authenticity through the language, about knowledge of the language. This student-conductor exchange, in its illustration of the perceived rights and obligations of speakers, lends support to Myers-Scotton’s (1995) conception of markedness as a polarity of 14 1 marked and unmarked choices in language use. Within this perspective, codeswitching is viewed as a ‘meaningful enterprise showing skill, not linguistic adequacies’ (p. viii), for ‘speakers assess the potential costs and rewards of all alternative choices, and make their decisions, typically unconsciously’ (p. 75). Whereas the present research is concerned with the possible interstitial spaces between marked and unmarked choices, these are regarded as interactional end posts in conversational interactions, allowing for an assessment of shifting potentialities in language use in the classroom and during interviews. Contemporary Swahili-English language use in Tanzania, as experienced by expatriate, Western speakers, is explored by Higgins (2011a) with attention to interview narratives of legitimate peripheral participation in Tanzanian-defined communities of Swahili-speakers, and of identity constructed in difference. Surfacing in these stories are ways in which language is used to regulate communities and selves through representations encoded in the terms Mgeni, Mswahili, Mtanzania, and Mzungu, translated by Higgins (2011a, pp. 168, 177) as visitor/foreigner, Swahili/Swahili person, Tanzanian, and White/foreigner, respectively. As one narrative example from an interview with Tatu (T), a Black woman born in Tanzania and raised by her Tanzanian parents in Canada, shows, such terms delimit a range of socially constructed identities. According to Tatu, an ‘Mswahili’ is a coastal resident, an ‘mjanja’ who is clever and 2 tenacious, with a ‘Bongo’ spirit. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 1 The notion of markedness extends from the positivist foundations of structural linguistics (Myers-Scotton, 1995, p. 80). 2 Bongo is a term used by speakers of Swahili to refer to Tanzania in general and the city of Dar es Salaam in particular. 15 1 C: I’m curious-I’ve asked this question to a lot of people but (.) 2 how do you feel about your capacity to be an mswahili or 3 mtanzania. A lot of people see a difference there. Do you feel 4 that you are? 5 T: I’m not mswahili, and I’m just saying mswahili because I think 6 mswahili is very much, well >I suppose it’s the coast< but I 7 consider it like Bongo (.) very: (.) you know ‘go out and get it, 8 drive for it.’ And it’s funny I say that because Tanzania is very 9 but mjanja (‘clever person’), cunning, okay. And 10 I’m not that way. (After Higgins, 2011a, p. 177) 3 Additionally, there can be an ambivalence revealed in the production of selfhood in Swahili, particularly in settings where the speaker, Kate, is positioned as an outsider among a group of Tanzanians: 4 >there are a lot of Tanzanians at this university< so he arranged 5 a party afterwards for all these Tanzanians. So there was me and his 6 advisor >his supervisor came< who is Zimbabwean. And when I 7 first arrived there people were like, “How are you madam,” and 8 when I used Swahili they would ignore it. And I thought ‘Oh !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 3 See Higgins (2011a, p. 174, 190) for fully transcribed excerpt and accompanying conventions of transcription and line numbering, in which ‘evaluative comments are in bold, reported speech in the form of constructed dialogue is in double quotes, and inner dialogue appears in single quotes’. 16 9 this will be a terrible evening.’ And (.) there was some 10 speaking by the advisor and friends, and they wanted me to say 11 something. So I got in Swahili, and I didn’t say much. I said “I 12 want to thank you because your committee was really happy,” I 13 didn’t say much but it was in Swahili. And you could see them go 14 ‘Oh!’ And afterwards one Tanzanian was opening champagne and 15 he was going to say something before it, and before he opening it he 16 said “Well since we’re all Tanzanians here, oh except for Professor 17 Ndule,” and I was waiting kind of waiting for, “except for,” you 18 know, (.) And he didn’t say it, and I was like ‘Oh, thank you!’ It 19 made me feel really good and yeah, it definitely was the Swahili 20 that did it. 4 (After Higgins, 2011a, p. 176) With this and other interview data, Higgins (2011a) relates these women’s experiences to a conception of an ‘intercultural third place’ (p. 186) after Bhabha’s (1994, 1990) third space. In this intercultural space between English- and Swahili-speaking selves, these women live between insider and outsider perspectives, where cultural, racial, and gender role differences problematize the ‘possibility to become Swahili’ in Tanzania (p. 171). In the present research, my goal is to develop an account of becoming Swahili that not only illuminates negotiations of social identity in classroom learning of the language, but also clarifies how the construction of social identity(ies) intersects with structures of power as !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 4 See note above. 17 displayed through language use and socialization practices. In this research I approach the Swahili-language classroom in both Mexico City and Dar es Salaam as a potential site for the reimagining of African and Swahili identities within a multilingual context. For these reasons, I locate my theoretical approach between that of Myers-Scotton (1995) and Higgins (2011a), grounding this research in ‘neo-Hymesian linguistic ethnography’ (e.g., Rampton, 2007; McCarty, Collins, & Hopson, 2011) and critical discourse analysis in order to access ‘underlying meanings and connections’ in the exploration of linguistic ideology (Hymes, 1996, p. 14). That the work by Higgins (2011a) was published in between the inauguration (2010) and completion (2012) of the fieldwork for this dissertation demonstrates that the exploration of experiences herein is both timely and relevant to developing trends in the field of applied linguistics. Tracing the trajectory of theoretical approaches to identity in multilingual contexts, Pavlenko and Blackledge (2004) describe an increasing trend away from monolingually-oriented ethnolinguistic conceptions of inter-group collective identity, to approaches grounded in interactional sociolinguistics, poststructuralism and critical theory. Ethnolinguistically-based approaches are criticized for their potential to essentialize identity into categories, preventing ‘inter-group theorists from understanding ways in which various language varieties function in local contexts and ways in which local hegemonic structures may oppress or legitimize particular ethnic groups or identities’ (Pavlenko & Blackledge, 2004, p. 7; see also Auer, 2005, and Rampton, 2007). The critical turn in applied linguistics has responded to these concerns regarding the essentialization of identity within studies of language learning and multiple language use, and through critical discourse analysis, ‘aims to unpack power relations that are not evident, on first sight, to people, and it aims to bring about change’ (Mahboob & Paltridge, 2013, p. 5). 18 Within this critical framework, discourse is both ‘socially constituted as well as socially conditioned’ and ‘produced, circulated, distributed, consumed in society’ (Blommaert & Bulcaen, 2000, p. 448). Critical discourse analysis can be regarded as a progressively converging nexus in theories and practices of research on language, drawing upon earlier work by several theorists across disciplines (e.g., Bakhtin, 1986, 1981; Bourdieu 2006 [1986]; Bourdieu & Passeron, 1978; Hymes, 1996). Previous Studies on Language Use in Postcolonial Classrooms International, transregional investigations focusing on classroom language use across postcolonial contexts like the present study, are relatively rare among the applied linguistics and comparative education literatures. One exception is the study by Arthur and Martin (2006) on languages of instruction in English-medium primary school classrooms in the Republic of Botswana in southern Africa, and the Sultanate of Brunei Darussalam in Southeast Asia, respectively. In their comparative study, ethnographic methods of participant observation, and the audio recording of classroom interaction and interviews, provide data for an illustration of both codeswitching and monolingualism in teacher-student negotiations and interactional routines during mathematics, geography, and science lessons. Extracts of transcribed talk feature throughout their analysis, demonstrating the classroom to be a microcosm of ‘asymmetrical relations of power between the English-speaking elite and the wider population’ in both Botswana and Brunei Darassalam. After Myers-Scotton (1993), they find evidence of ‘elite closure’ in the performance of English, as teachers would repeatedly frame interactions in 19 English and rely on the limited number of learners with ability in the language, thereby 5 excluding other students. Another comparative study of language use in the postcolonial classroom by Brock-Utne and Holmarsdottir (2004) similarly examines English-medium primary schools across Tanzania and South Africa (as part of a larger transnational project variously updated by Brock-Utne, Desai, & Qorro, 2006 and Brock-Utne, 2010). In a review of transcribed teacher-student exchanges it is concluded that the use of English limits the participation of students in science and mathematics lessons, prompting switches into Swahili and Xhosa, first-languages in each context. Like that of Arthur and Martin (2006), a major conclusion of Brock-Utne and Holmarsdottir (2004) is that the mandate of English ‘is a political choice’ (p. 68) that manufactures linguistic inequality: ‘If Africa is truly to have independence then policy-makers throughout Africa need to be reminded that it is the masses that ultimately suffer when a language is imposed on them’ (p. 81). Additional studies by Hornberger and Chick (2001) and Breton-Carbonneau, Cleghorn, Evans, and Pesco (2012), review classroom language use across Puno, Peru and Durban, South Africa, as well as Quebec, Canada and Gauteng, South Africa, respectively. Whereas all of these previous transnational studies focused upon the language of instruction of the content classroom, !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 5 The study by Arthur and Martin (2006) can also be understood to relate to other work documenting the endurance of English as a language of instruction within postcolonial settings. Following Kachru (1992, 1985) the internationalization of English is theorized as a complex of World Englishes radiating from an Inner Circle of countries (former metropoles) where an English is a typical medium of communication, to Outer Circle and onto Expanding Circle contexts. Within this scheme, Tanzania is considered an Outer Circle context by Kachru (1992, p. 356) along with countries like Ghana, Indian, Kenya, Nigeria, and Singapore, wherein ‘institutionalized nonnative varieties (ESL) in the regions…have passed through extended periods of colonization’. South Africa is also viewed as a growing Outer Circle context (Coetzee Van-Rooy, 2008). Contrastively, countries such as China, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and South Korea are characterized as Expanding Circle contexts. 20 the present study is concerned with the wider activities of both the language and content classrooms as potential sites of struggle in the negotiation of social identity through language learning. I now turn to a sketch of the theoretical perspectives that informed my ethnographic field methods and later analysis of gathered data. Other Theoretical Considerations: Intersections in Applied Linguistics, Diaspora Studies, and the Study of Africa In addition to extending previous lines of research on social identity and communitybased practices in language learning, this classroom-based ethnographic study was outlined in response to: (1) the inverse relationship among growing international demand for instruction in African languages (e.g., Moshi, 2011; Sanneh & Omar, 2002), and the extreme paucity of detailed studies on the learning of African languages outside of Africa (cf. Batibo, 2003, on motivations of Botswanan learners of Swahili; Marten & Mostert, 2012, on motivations of U.K. learners of Zulu; Omar, 2006, on acquisition of pragmatics by U.S. learners of Swahili); (2) increased discussion of the Swahili language as international and globalized (e.g., Moshi, 2006), and (3) historical, mutual sponsorship of programs in Swahili language acquisition and interdisciplinary centers and programs in African studies worldwide (e.g., on Czechoslovakia – Waridi-Ruzicka, 1963; on Poland – Czernichowski, Kopinski, & Polus, 2012; and Kowalski, 1967; and on Russia – Solodovnikov, 1966). Addressing Swahili language learning through a focus on student-learners in the field of African studies offers a timely, differently contextualized perspective on the integral role of language learning on global flows of knowledge production on Africa. 21 In their ‘Introducing applied linguistics in Africa’, Makoni & Meinhof (2003, p. 1) discuss how emerging paradigms in applied linguistics research (by African scholars) concerning African contexts regard contemporary language situations as the continuation of a long, rich history of movements of people, languages, and oral and written literacies: ‘Pre-colonial migration, trade down the centuries, the radical displacements of slavery, the growth of print literacy and the decline of oral culture, arbitrary territorial changes under colonialism, industrial exploitation of natural resources, and the unprecedented rapidity of migration and urbanization in the postcolonial period have brought language groups into contact and conflict, changing social and economic life and with it the shape, function and status of the languages within specific community. This pattern is not unique to Africa. Nor is it uniform across Africa.’ This paints a picture of a fluid and shifting linguistic landscape, consistent with developing sociohistorical perspectives on identity and language within Africa and its Diaspora (e.g., Zeleza, 2006). Such perspectives trace intra-African streams of influence, after Kubik (1998), illustrating how ongoing, dynamic, intra-African cultural exchanges have been central to the development of linguistic, musical, and technological innovations throughout. Drawing upon this perspective, global, diasporic flows in the contemporary spread of Swahili from eastern Africa to Latin America, as are traced in the present focus on Dar es Salaam and Mexico City, can be theoretically viewed as permutations and reproductions of historical corridors between the Tanzanian mainland and the Congolese interior (Fabian, 1986), Zanzibar and Oman (Kharusi, 2012), Zanzibar and Mexico (Beltrán, 1946), and Portuguese-controlled Angola to Mexico (Githiora, 2008a), for example. 22 Now with Google search engines and Facebook, the popular, international social networking website, available in Swahili, the language continues to be thrust further into the global spotlight (Ndhlovu, 2008). This increased attention demands a greater need to assess how terms used within applied linguistics to represent and define speakers of African languages as ‘Swahili speakers’, for example, may reproduce inexact representations not inclusive of secondand foreign-language speakers (Ndhlovu, 2009; Zeleza, 2006). Owing to this area of ambiguity, part of this research aims, as does the study by Higgins (2011a), to uncover the identifications and categorizations participants use to refer to themselves within their communities of practice. An additional concern discussed in the literature pertains to the trajectory and development of the field of African studies. Ndhlovu (2008) argues that teaching and research activities on African languages, in combination with linguistics, sociolinguistics, and applied linguistics, should be incorporated into the programming of African studies departments and programs. However, such a shift would be differently implicated in the study of Africa facilitated by universities and institutions within African countries, as opposed to those in locations outside of Africa. Whereas within African universities the study of Africa is typically pursued across entire institutions, in other universities outside of Africa, such as in the U.S., it is located within area studies, in programs, departments, and centers of African studies (Zeleza, 2011, 2009), the wide majority of which have participated in the teaching of African languages, such as Swahili (e.g., Thomas, 2009). The area studies model, particularly in Western countries is considered an extension of the ‘Euro-American academy’ (Zeleza, 2007). These different institutional models structuring the study of Africa reinforce ‘flows of influence’ in the globalization of higher education and the internationalization of knowledge production on Africa (Zeleza, 2009). In the 23 this dissertation, the ethnographic exploration of language teaching via the study of Africa in university programs in Dar es Salaam and Mexico City offers a contextualized view of African studies in action across the Global South, and of the role of language and language learning in constructing such study. Though a select number of studies in applied linguistics focus on language learning within institutional contexts, such as the study by Gu (2010) which discusses the construction of L2 English social identities in a Chinese university’s English department, Swahili has not yet been explored in this way. This dissertation, framed within the field of second language studies/applied linguistics, seeks to extend existing research by undertaking a critical, systematic investigation of Swahili-language learning across two postcolonial, institutional contexts, interconnected in their pursuit of the study of Africa and Swahili, one of its most widely spoken languages. In the next section below I detail the methodology used throughout data collection and data analysis for this research. Methodology A select number of qualitative studies of instructed language learning are framed as ethnographies or interpretive-explanatory accounts of behaviors that are systematically and intensively observed by the researcher (e.g., Duff, 2002; 1995; Friedman, 2009; Willet, 1995). The conduct of ethnography is necessarily qualitative, but not synonymous with qualitative research (Watson-Gegeo, 1988). Conventional ethnography involves the taking of extensive notes on observed behaviors while in the field or research setting. These field notes, in addition to audio or video recordings of the research setting and interviews with its participants, comprise the bulk of the customary ethnographic data set (Bernard, 2006; Richards, 2003; Schensul, Schensul, & LeCompte, 1999). 24 Fieldwork: Participant Observation and Interviewing Fieldwork for this study transpired across two phases: one in each research context. Before the fieldwork for this study began, I undertook preliminary research in the form of informal meetings and lunches with professors, administrators, and students at the Mexico City university research site in March 2010. These early meetings helped to confirm this research site, helped me establish relationships with prospective participants, and paved the way for participant observation to begin in August 2010, with the start of the fall semester in Mexico City. This phase of fieldwork covered two semesters at the university, concluding in July 2011. Next, the second phase of fieldwork began in August 2011, in time for the start of the first of two semesters at the Dar es Salaam university field site. Prior to this second phase, extensive email and phone communication with professors in Libya and Tanzania assisted in confirming the Dar es Salaam site, and securing the necessary research visa from the Tanzanian Commission on Science and Technology Research (COSTECH). Fieldwork in Dar es Salaam, supported by a six-month Fulbright-Hays Doctoral Dissertation Research Abroad (DDRA) grant, concluded in February 2012. In the field, data gathering centered on participant observation of classroom activity in all university classrooms as primary field sites. After securing written informed consent from university administrators, instructors, and students, I began audio recording classes using a battery-powered, digital mp3 audio recorder. Out of desire not to attract too much attention to myself, and because of my transportation situation to class each day (in Mexico city and Dar es Salaam I had to squeeze into impossibly crammed buses and underground trains, sometimes standing pressed between passengers or seated with small children perched on my lap) it was not possible to bring a tripod to the classroom. Still, I was able to make video recordings using a 25 digital video camera I would place in the back of the classroom atop stacks of books and stationary wall fixtures, or hold as I stood in a standing position in the rear of the room. In total, data comprise field notes and recordings of classroom interaction from 118 lessons (226 hours) in Mexico City, and 94 lessons (113 hours) in Dar es Salaam. In many of these classroom lessons I was regarded by the instructors as a student and language learner, and would be asked to answer questions and participate in translation and storytelling exercises and group activities. Out of curiosity, in both Mexico City and Dar es Salaam I asked to sit in on individual student oral exams, and where participants were comfortable, I was able to make further recordings. I additionally attended all academic and community talks and conferences that I was able to gain access to, organize transportation for, and fit into my daily schedule. In Mexico City this included courses in Swahili language, African history, African politics, Hindi language, and Arabic language, as well as talks and conferences on the study of Africa and African descendants in Mexico located at the university, the national Senate, as well as other universities in Mexico City and the country. In Dar es Salaam I participated in and observed courses on Swahili language, East African history, African philosophy, English language, French language, and Biology. Basically, I went wherever I was invited, and wherever I was allowed entry. In each research context, I was able to participate and observe with learners outside of the classroom as they gathered for lunch or dinner on and off campus, commuted in buses and taxis, went shopping in indoor malls and outdoor markets, and travelled for sightseeing outside of the city to other parts of the country. It was in these informal settings that I was able to connect with participants, form lasting friendships, and accomplish most of my interviews in more relaxed atmosphere, over bottled sodas, lassis, chapati, and quesadillas. I also developed friendships with 26 teachers and professors, taking tea with them, drinking beers, eating sushi, conversing about their developing research, and exchanging the latest Swahili-language gospel music albums. Throughout the field period in each research site I interviewed students, instructors, teaching assistants, and administrators, whenever their busy schedules and transportation circumstances allowed. Sometimes this meant stealing the time between classes for interviews, or meeting after hours. Lasting between one and two hours, these interviews were conducted in the participant’s preferred language(s) (not necessarily their first-languages), where I was able accommodate their use of varieties of English, Spanish, Swahili, and codeswitching thereof. Across these interviews I asked questions variously encouraging participants to articulate their perspectives on recent classroom events, their conceptions of the classroom teaching philosophy, as well as what terms and categorizations were relevant to their ongoing experiences in learning and teaching the language. During these interviews, I used open-ended questions to encourage and incite participants to relate stories and events that illustrated their understanding of how they were being perceived by others in the classroom and in the city. With this technique, and my engaging of participants through ‘mutual disclosure’ of my previous experiences in language learning and ongoing perspectives on the city, I entered into creative interviewing and active interviewing (Holstein & Gubrium, 2002, p. 117). Dar es Salaam Interviews. During interviews I encouraged learners to speak whichever language of their choosing, within my ability to accommodate. Under these circumstances, some learners, including the Italian and Chinese learners elected to speak in Swahili, it being their more competent language over English. Over the course of my stay in Dar es Salaam, I conducted 38 interviews with learners, instructors, teaching assistants, and program administrators. Because of the sheer number of interviews, as well as scheduling challenges, I 27 sometimes interviewed learners in groups of two or three. In the case of the learners who were interviewing in a language other than their first language, these groupings turned out to be useful, as learners would sometimes (but not frequently) consult with their peers in the first language as to the meaning of my questions, and then respond in Swahili. This was similar to what would occur occasionally in class, when learners would turn to each other and ask, for example in the case of the Chinese learners in the advanced Swahili class: 500 ‘ o ’ [Tā zhège jiǎng shénme, tā jiǎngle shénme nèiróng.] She spoke what content She said what, what did she just say. 6 (Dar es Salaam, Advanced Swahili class, 19 December 2011, line 500) Or in the case of my group interview with the South Korean learners: 1407 L: U::h [.] teacher expect [.] me? 1408 N: A::h. [생각하기에 우리가 . [Gyosuga [saeng-gaghagie uliga mwol sseugil balanyago.] Professor is thinking we are what use wish What does the professor wish us to speak. (Dar es Salaam, Interview with Habiba, Lulu, & Ndoto, 18 November 2011, lines 1407-1408) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 6 Listening back to the audio from these classes and interviews, I could recognize that Chinese was being spoken, but was unable to discern the exact words. This transcription was possible through the assistance of a competent speaker of Mandarin Chinese upon my return to the U.S. 7 See note above (the same was the case with the transcription of Korean from recordings of the classroom or during interviews). 28 7 Sometimes languages other than Swahili would appear in the interviews in the form of discourse markers also. If it appeared to me that learners were beginning to express more in a language other than Swahili or English, I encouraged them to go ahead and use this other language, saying that I would do my best to find someone later who could help me translate their statements. In the case of my group interview with three of the learners, Hamisi, Bakari, and Felix, two of whom were first-language speakers of Chinese, there was no Chinese used. Mexico City Interviews. Over the course of my stay in Mexico City I had the opportunity to conduct interviews with each of the university learners twice, once in each semester (in the spring I was able to Skype with the learner away on study abroad). I also recorded formal interviews with instructors of Swahili, African studies professors, and language instructors, professors, and students in the other area studies programs at the university, in addition to program administrators. Between these university interviews, and interviews I conducted with learners and administrators from the community language course, I completed 37 interviews, on three occasions interviewing some participants in pairs, if circumstances allowed. Materials Collection. To aid my understanding of the curriculum and institutional organization in each setting, I went to great lengths to obtain copies of key classroom texts and assigned readings, and bought all available materials on Swahili language and the study of Africa on sale at each institution. Through intermittent searches in the city, I also procured additional materials on Mexican and Latin American histories, Tanzanian and African histories, as well as select materials in Spanish- and Swahili-language linguistics and lexicography, and local Spanish- and Swahili-language newspapers covering ongoing in-country and international happenings (e.g., the armed pursuit of Colonial Gaddafi in Libya; the Mexican war on drugs; 2011 as the United Nations international year of people of African descent). All of these 29 materials contributed to my developing perspectives on the classroom as a community of practice within the intersecting settings of the city, nation, and imagined community(ies). Transcription and Data Analysis With a view towards unveiling linguistic ideologies, and in the interest of making visible ‘underlying meanings and connections’ (Hymes, 1996, p. 14), switches between languages are made more perceptible in transcripts by putting in boldface words and phrases in alternating languages: The first language to be used in a sequence of interaction is in unaltered typeface, and the succeeding language is in boldface. This means that a word or phrase in a particular language may be represented in bold in one instance, and in a non-contrastive typeface in the next occurrence because other switches have transpired, possibly involving a third or fourth language. By succeeding in making codeswitching more visible without othering particular languages by steadily representing them in a non-normative manner, this technique departs from the method of previous studies in which utterances in particular languages are consistently put into italics (e.g., Spanish in Urciuoli, 1998) or in bold and italics throughout (e.g., Estonian and Russian, respectively, in Verschik, 2008). This method also carries the added benefit of indicating in excerpted transcripts whether the language used in the initial lines of the excerpt was the first to be used in the larger interaction (classroom lesson, interview) that the talk is a part of. Additionally, all talk from audio and video recordings in the classroom, and audio recordings of interviews, was transcribed as talk-in-interaction. This falls in line with perspectives of interviews as co-constructed accomplishments in the production of meaning (Mori, 2012; Pietikänen & Dufva, 2006). Reported speech in these transcriptions referring to 30 previously stated utterances, or indicating the oral articulation of written texts, is put between single quotes. Using my field notes as a guide, I began transcribing and annotating these transcriptions in the field, focusing on classroom lessons that learners recalled as important in our informal conversations, and seeking the assistance of classroom participants, learners and teachers, for insights into recorded talk. With principal informants (learners who would become research assistants), I shared transcripts in progress and asked for their help in transcribing recordings and determining appropriate translations. I also sought their aid in supplementing my field notes with their perspectives on classroom events. I further consulted with informants regarding my developing analyses; listening carefully to their comments helped me to expand my perspective, and reflect on my own experiences in language learning, as I am a competent, though L2 and L3 speaker of Spanish and Swahili, respectively. Altogether, this enabled me to triangulate these data, more faithfully represent the sociolinguistic activity of participants, and enhance my own capacity for self-reflexivity in this research. In the chapters that follow, analysis of classroom talk emerges from micro-analytic dimensions to incorporate macro-level analysis. In the procedural examination of classroom talk, each of these microanalysis chapters—both chapter 4 on Dar es Salaam, and chapter 5 on Mexico City—constructs a holistic and incredibly detailed view of the classroom as a community of practice, allowing the reader to experience an interconnected sequence of classroom lessons that provide evidence of how practices in one class are introduced or discussed, and become valued in another. While unconventional, these micro-analytic explorations are innovative in their in-depth, critical approach to these classroom data, and consistent with 31 previous studies of language use, in which codeswitching and interaction patterns are examined for their role in discourse as part of an ethnographic microanalysis (Duff, 2002). For example, in the examination of hadithi (story) in chapter 4, the microanalysis considers Dar es Salaam classroom activity surrounding each utterance of the term, who introduces the term, how it is defined, and how it is didactically enacted, and responded to. This microanalysis is presented through ethnographic vignettes; highly contextualized, proceduralanalytic chronicles of interactional sequences and talk episodes, after McCarty, Collins, and Hopson (2011). Following Friedman (2009), the macro-level analysis incorporates insights from my observations throughout the field setting, as well as field notes, classroom texts, and interviews, to examine the sociohistorical implications of the enactment of hadithi as situated practice and co-constructed accomplishment in the Dar es Salaam language classroom. This macro-analysis produces a commentary on the larger conceptions of learners, both African and non-African, as authentic, agentive speakers and dialogic participants in Swahili-language oral literature within Swahiliphone Africa. In chapter 5, similarly thorough microanalysis of the Mexico City classroom conversation regarding Swahili-speaking zombies (within the imagined landscape of the Resident Evil 5 videogame) provides the contextual background for the examination of later classroom discussion of wazimamoto (firefighters) as vampiros (vampires) in colonial eastern Africa. This microanalysis proceeds as a thorough examination of speech events in the introduction and response to the term and others like it from the Swahili language throughout the discussion. In this, the teacher-led query as to the Spanish-language meaning of Swahili-language terms is shown to be a device in socializing learners as swahilistas (Swahilists), Africanist specialists in Swahili language and East African history. Macro-analysis traces the larger, sociohistorical 32 implications of the use of the Swahili language within the African history class in Mexico City as it relates to the shared postcolonial realities of Latin American and African contexts, and learners’ investments in language learning and the study of Africa. In chapter 3, data analysis is differently framed through an alternating series of ethnographic vignettes across Dar es Salaam and Mexico City that aim to illustrate situated practices in codeswitching and the use of languages other than Swahili (English, Spanish) to frame instructional activity on the Swahili language. Variously, a microanalytic focus unfolds concerning teacher-initiated assertions of and learner responses to the (1) introduction of metalinguistic terminology, (2) requests to speak monolingual Swahili, (3) translations of Swahili-language vocabulary, and (4) incidents of limited communicative speech events in Swahili. Writing Critical, Classroom-Based, Linguistic Ethnography In the field, over time, as I began to absorb the intersecting and diverging perspectives of students, teachers, and administrators, I grew increasingly aware of latent structures of power as I was experiencing them, and as they were being described to me by participants. In formal interviews and afterhours conversations, I could relate to participant’s narrative accounts of alignments and tensions between individual and community, student and teacher, and novice and expert, because I was seeing these same intersections and discontinuities play out in my own daily interactions in the classroom and city. As a result, increasing the visibility of latent structures of power has therefore become one of several goals in this research, and I have worked to mirror my investigative aim in my ethnographic writing about participants and their 33 experiences. My goal in this work is to construct an account of language learning in sociohistorical relief. To this end, I disrupt the reading of this largely monolingual, English-language account of multilingual classroom communities by beginning each analysis chapter with an untranslated excerpt of experience or interaction in the participants’ own voices. These same excerpts appear again later in each respective chapter accompanied by a translation, engaging the reader in two different representations of the same utterance or interactional sequence. By the same token, I seek to acknowledge the potential etic quality of my own perspective in this work, and though some translations have been derived through collaboration with the speakers who originated the source utterances, in these translations I use an oblique slash or / to indicate other possible meanings, and brackets [ ] to indicate lexical items such as determiners that are not technically present in the source utterance. Where source utterances are quoted in the text of my analysis and commentary, I choose to eliminate any bold or italicized typeface, thereby providing yet another non-normative representation of participants’ voices, and presenting their use of language as akin to the use of English throughout my account. Translations of these textually quoted utterances are presented in italics, as are translations in transcripts, thereby partially subverting the Englishcentric convention of representing languages other than English as non-normative in written format. In this, I am challenging the reader to encounter these languages as I did in the field, as a multilingual tableau of self-representations and self-regulated authenticities. Through a concern for maintaining the anonymity of participants, I have made careful use of collective, geographical referents (e.g., ‘Tanzanian’, ‘African’, ‘Cuban’, ‘Latin American’), and gender-neutral pronouns and phrasings (e.g., ‘their’, ‘they’, ‘the instructor’s response’), in addition to pseudonyms, in schemes I began considering during my time in the 34 field. Regarding some classroom data, if I were to relate the specific balance of gender, race, first- and second-languages, and other identifying features, the specific identity of participants would no longer be protected. Finally, in this work I approach the act of writing of linguistic ethnography as an exploration of my own current positioning toward these linguistic data that I have reduced to the form of typed transcripts and annotations. Consequently, I attempt here to develop a more holistic account of language learning activity by engaging in the meticulous, procedural documentation of entire classroom lessons, as presented in chapters 4 and 5. Within my view, microanalysis of this kind delivers to the reader a comprehensive vision of the classroom lesson as a co-constructed activity between the learners and their teacher. After Irvine (2008), Makoni and Meinhof (2003), Ndhlovu (2009), Zeleza (2006), and others, I additionally make a point of avoiding loaded terminology such as ‘sub-Saharan’ and ‘indigenous’ in my analysis and commentary, and make the analysis of terms like ‘Africans’ and ‘Mexicans’ a feature of this account. Altogether, these techniques are part of my attempt to innovate a greater sense of multiplicity and fluidity in this static, written ethnographic account of language learning. In the next chapter below, I provide further information to support my ethnographic approach to such terminology, illustrating how such categories were created or invented in the historical and ongoing role of language in the construction of the modern nations of Tanzania and Mexico. 35 Chapter 2 Background and Setting: From Precolonial and Pre-Columbian to Modern and Urban Introduction This chapter provides sociohistorical background on the Swahili language as it emerged in medieval eastern Africa, became standardized under the British colonial regime in the 1900s, and eventually made its way to Mexico, potentially as early as the 1600s during the Spanish colonial period, as well as through the later formation of the Mexico City African studies program in the 1980s. A crucial component of this chapter’s historical sketch of the sociopolitical development of Swahili is the story of the global role of colonial linguistics, which facilitated the growth of the field of African studies, and its subfield of Swahili Studies, in promoting the language worldwide through scholarship and university language offerings. This background information is critical to this transregional, ethnographic study as an illustration of the development of complex, overlapping ideologies of standardization and monolingualism that continue to be implicated in the language socialization of both African (Ghanaian) and non-African (Austrian, Chinese, Italian, U.S.) learners of Swahili in contemporary Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Moreover, the promotion of Swahili alongside the colonially driven mandate of English in Tanzania can be understood to strongly relate to the language ideologies framing the experience of contemporary learners of Swahili in a nonAfrican setting such as Mexico. In the Mexico City classroom the depth of Latin American historical experience manifests in the differentiation of Spanishes, as students come from Cuba and Venezuela in addition to Mexico, as well as the hierarchy of languages in the 36 classroom, and the disadvantaged position of African studies at the university. In each of these classrooms, the presence of English is a consequence of historical promotion and worldwide expansion of the language by the British colonial regime, in addition to being linked to the enduring momentum of globalization and economically motivated language learning. After discussing these historical details, drawing upon primary and secondary sources in English, Spanish, and Swahili, the chapter goes on to present descriptive, ethnographic vignettes from each classroom setting in this study; first Dar es Salaam, then Mexico City. These vignettes complement my own narrative descriptions of these multilingual, urban classroom contexts, and participants in this study. Background Part One: Constructing Tanzania Through the Historical Politics of Swahili In following the Swahili language learning experiences of Austrian, Chinese, Ghanaian, Italian, and U.S. students during their stay in Tanzania, this research investigates how Swahili is taught and learned by L2 speakers within the context of a nation that was itself forged through dissemination of the language. By the time Swahili had been successfully used by Mwalimu Julius Nyerere to communicate and organize directly with multiple ethnic groups across Tanganyika and Zanzibar to form the United Republic of Tanzania in 1964 (Chacha, 2003; Topan, 2008), the language had already been a tool of Swahili, Omani, Shirazi (Persian), and Indian merchants along the Congo River, the coastal mainland, and the corridor of islands between modern-day Maputo to Mombasa for at least 400 years (Mazrui, 2007). The first forms of the language likely appeared as early as 500 AD, 37 becoming more widely used and developed by the ninth and tenth centuries with the spread of th Islam, and liturgical and poetic texts in Arabic orthography into the 17 century and beyond (Mazrui, 2007; Mazrui & Mazrui, 1996). Early Coastal Politics During this pre-modern period, East African city-states offered refuge for speakers of Arabic and Persian fleeing from Arabian conflicts, and increasing opportunities for economic and cultural alliances (Mazrui, 2007). Maritime trade in valued ivory, gold, iron, animal hides, and vegetable oils, as well as enslaved persons, was a central enterprise of the eastern African coastal region, and brought Bantu-speaking peoples (e.g., Kikuyu, Lingala) into contact with speakers of Cushitic (e.g., Iraqw, Somali) and Nilotic languages (e.g., Luo, 1 Maasai), as well as speakers of Arabic, Chinese, Gujarati, Hindi, Persian, and Portuguese. ! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 1 Even these languages as named here (which follows modern convention) may result in inaccurate representations of the fluidity and variation of communicative forms and collective identities within and across precolonial and modern cities and regions in the geographical bounds of eastern Africa. This view is consistent with mounting perspectives at the intersection of African studies and applied linguistics (e.g., Irvine, 2008; Makoni, 2013; Makoni & Meinhof, 2003; Makoni & Pennycook, 2005; Ndhlovu, 2009) that contend that ‘language use in Africa is best analysed [sic] in terms of transitional and transnational networks’ (Makoni & Meinhof, 2006). For example, it is understood that Lingala as it is commonly referred to today existed as a non-codified continuum of varieties throughout the region that would become the Belgian Congo, and later, the Democratic Republic of the Congo. This was also the case with Shona (in use across Mutapa Empire, later the Ndebele Kingdom, Rhodesia, Zimbabwe), where there was actually no language deemed ‘Shona’ until this label was created as a both a referent to language and ethnicity by colonial administrators (e.g., Makoni & Meinhof, 2006; Myers-Scotton, 1995). In the case of Swahili there were/are a number of varieties in use, including Shaba Swahili used in the Congo and Kiunguja of Unguja (Zanzibar), among others, before the language was standardized (e.g., Bokamba, 2008; Fabian, 1986; Myers-Scotton, 1995). Moreover, the description of other languages as ‘Arabic’, ‘Chinese’, and so forth, may also, as Makoni (2013, p. 93) asserts, ‘consolidate the view that individuals’ experiences are identical; hence, the labels refer to something that really exists’. 38 and other artifacts has been unearthed at several key historical outposts including at Tongoni (outside of Tanga on the northern Tanzania mainland) and Kilwa (a historical island sultanate off the southern coast of Tanzania) (e.g., Pollard, 2008). Each of these is one of several coastal communities where the remnants of mosques and tombs built from coral stone still th stand today as remarkable evidence of 12-15 century settlements first established by 2 Shirazis. It was during the height of this early period that Ibn Battuta , the medieval world traveler originating from Tangier, made a journey to Kilwa in 1331, by way of Mogadishu th and Mombasa, recording his impressions in his journal. By that time in the 14 century, Islam had spread across North and West Africa, from Egypt to the Mali Empire, and was well established through various sultanates spanning the coastal areas of eastern Africa, southern India, and the islands of the Indian Ocean as far south as Malacca and Indonesia. Ibn Battuta’s account tells of the bilad as-sawahil (the coast lands) and the zunuj, zanj, or zinj (Black people) (as translated from the Arabic by Gibb, 1990 [1929], p. 112, and Hamdun & King, 1994, p. 21-22): ‘Then I sailed from the city of Maqdashaw going towards the land of the Sawāḥil [coasts], intending to go the city of Kulwā [Kilwa] which is one of the cities of the land of the Zunūj. We arrived at the island of Manbasā [Mombasa]. Manbasā is a large island with two days’ journey by sea between it and the land of the Sawāḥil. […] We spent the night on this island and travelled by sea to the city of Kulwā. [Kulwā is] a great coastal city. Most of its people are Zunūj, extremely black. They !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 2 Also known as Abu Abdallah ibn Battuta. See, for example, Hamdun and King, 1994. 39 have cuttings on their faces like those on the faces of the Līmiyyīn of Janāda. […] 3 The city of Kulwā is amongst the most beautiful cities and most elegantly built’. Nearly two centuries after Ibn Battuta’s stay in Kilwa, the Portuguese would become a feature of the region following the 1498 voyage of Vasco da Gama around the western and southern coasts of the African continent to what was then the Sultanate of Mozambique, and onto the city of Calicut in India (Newitt, 1972). Vasco da Gama’s voyages traced sea routes already familiar to traders and navigators throughout the region. In fact, Vasco da Gama’s journals show that his convoy recruited or compelled a select number of local pilots to navigate his ships as the journey prevailed. As part of his first, wandering tour up the eastern African coast, Vasco da Gama made an attempt to moor at Kilwa, but was thwarted by sea 4 currents (da Gama, 2009 [1497-1499]). He would later return, and separate voyages by successive Portuguese leadership allied with the Sultanate of Malindi would instigate the violent destruction of Mombasa in 1502 and again in 1528, as well as the hostile takeover of Zanzibar, as well as Kilwa’s southern port, temporary diverting its trade to Portuguesecontrolled coffers (Northrup, 1998). Eventually, Omani Arabs and Swahilis would regain control of the area, retaking Mombasa into the 17th century. It is this dynamic power play among city-states and merchant corporations that Mbaabu (2007, p. 2) outlines, in his description of how the Swahili language developed within the purview of economic enterprise and Islamic sultanates: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 3 Ibn Battuta’s account of the city of Kilwa continues on, commenting on the Islamic practices of its residents, and the benevolence of its contemporary sultan, Sultan Abu alMuzaffar Hasan. See, for example, Hamdun & King, 1994, for the full account. 4 See da Gama (2009 [1497-1499], p. 58) for the journal entry regarding passage between the Mozambiquan coastline, past Kilwa, and onto Mombasa. 40 Mpaka mwisho wa karne ya 16 ambapo Wareno waliung’oa utawala wa Waarabu na Waswahili, hali ya kisiasa ya pwani haikuweza kueneza nguvu zake hadi bara. Waswahili walishirikiana na Waomani au Wamanga na kuung’oa utawala wa Mreno, halafu mbari ya Wamazrui, ya Waarabu wa Ki-Oman wakajikita kama watawala wa Mombasa. th Until the end of the 16 century when [the] Portuguese seized [the] rule of [the] Arabs and [the] Swahili, [the] political state/status of the coast could not extend/spread its strength up to/into [the] continent/mainland. [The] Swahili participated/joined with [the] Omanis or Mangas and seized [the] rule of [the] Portuguese, then [the] Mazrui clan/lineage, of Omani Arabs strengthened themselves as rulers of Mombasa. Mbaabu (2007, p. 2) goes on to explain how the consolidation of economic power in Zanzibar, in addition to that in Mombasa, was a key factor in the spread of Swahili from the coastal region to the mainland interior through the deploying of massive caravans: Kulikuweko na ung’ang’aniaji wa mamlaka miongoni mwa Waarabu wa mbari ya Busaidi Oman walioishi Unguja. Ukinzani huu ulidumu tangu mwaka 1750 hadi mwaka 1850 ambapo mfalme (Sultani) wa Unguja aliweza kuimarisha utawala wake katika pwani ya Afrika Mashariki. Tangu wakati huo biashara ilianza kupanuka na kuenea bara. Misafara ya biashara ilienea bara na kukisambaza Kiswahili ambacho wakati huo kilikuwa lugha ya kwanza ya Waswahili na Waarabu wa pwani ya Afrika Mashariki. ! 41 There was a stronghold of authority/ownership among [the] Arabs of [the] clan/lineage of Busaidi Oman who lived/resided [in] Unguja/Zanzibar. This opposition/resistance [between Zanzibar and Mombasa] perpetuated from [the] year 1750 until [the] year 1850 when [the] King (Sultan) of Unguja/Zanzibar could strengthen his rule in the East African coast. From that time business/commerce began to expand and spread [to the] mainland. [The]commercial caravans reached [the] main language and diffused [the] Swahili language which [at] that time was [the] first language of [the] Swahili and Arabs of the East African coast. Just as caravans had been instrumental in the spread of Arabic language and script some centuries earlier along the trade routes covering the regions of Mali, Songhay, Timbuktu, and across to Morocco, Egypt and Arabia, so, too, were trading expeditions key in the spread of Swahili and its accompanying Arabic script from points along the eastern African coastline into what would become the Congo and Zambia. Mazrui and Mazrui (1996, p. 59) also observe the importance of trade in the expansion of Swahili language, finding that the consolidation of the al-Busaidi sultanate throughout the islands, ‘that trade with the interior of the continent developed more substantially’, fueling ‘a momentum of linguistic spread’. The spread of Swahili language through trade was such that ethnic Swahili culture, a continuation of Islamic practices brought by Omanis and Shirazis and consolidated through intermarriage with local groups, was most robust in the coastal areas, while the language featured in marketplaces and educational settings far and wide (Mazrui & Mazrui, 1996; Topan, 2008; see also Figures 1 and 2 below for views of a contemporary Dar es Salaam marketplace). Mazrui (2007, p. 16) refers to this intermarriage and cooperation as the foundation of ‘Afro-Arab heritage’ from which the Swahili literary tradition developed. 42 These developments came even as the Indian Ocean trade in enslaved Africans persisted into the 1880s, primarily led by the Arabs and Portuguese, building the island of Unguja (Zanzibar) into an economic slave-trading port and sultanate that would ultimately supply the linguistic variety from which modern Standard Swahili derives. Throughout medieval and precolonial mainland and coastal Tanganyika, Swahili developed along with the spread of Islam and trade, and was likely recognized as a language closely related to the more than 120 largely Bantu languages in the area. As Pike (1986, p. 212) contends, ‘that the language did not become negatively identified with the slave trade in Tanganyika can perhaps best be th explained by its independence from mid-19 century Arab domination and the Arabic language, as well as its progressive image’. Figure 1. Stacks of bananas for sale in an open-air market near Ubungo bus station. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 6 October 2011. 43 Thereafter, however, the use of the Swahili language was also the mandate of Belgian, German, and British colonial administrations that officially controlled the regions of Congo Free State (beginning in the 1840s), German East Africa (beginning in the 1880s), British East Africa (beginning in 1918). After the end of the First World War, Germany ceded control in 1918 to the British of what would become Uganda and Tanganyika, and to the Belgians what would become Rwanda and Burundi (Fabian, 1986; Githiora, 2008b; Mazrui, 2007). Under these colonial administrations Swahili was strategically chosen from among the numerous local languages (e.g., Arabic, Chagga, Haya, Hehe) and the European languages (e.g., English, Flemish, French, German) and appropriated in formal colonial and missionaryled schooling. While this formal use of Swahili resulted in further spread and regularization th th of the language during the colonial period of the 19 and 20 centuries, it also effected the perpetuation of a racialized, linguistic divide among colonizer and subject. Colonial Linguistics and the European Encounter From the official onset of the German regime in colonial Tanganyika in 1885, the local populace was deliberately withheld from learning German to prevent their access to European knowledge sources and lessen their resistance to German control (Mazrui & Mazrui, 1996; Pike, 1986). However, the use of Swahili as a fundamental means of communication across multiple groups in the outbreak and endurance of the Maji Maji Rebellion of 1905-1907 in German Tanganyika demonstrated the unifying, subversive potential of the language, as well as its extant status as a lingua franca within the region. This war and armed resistance effort throughout the colony had the effect of being ‘the first transethnic mass movement in the modern history of Tanganyika’ (Mazrui & Mazrui, 1996, p. 62), 44 Figure 2. Oranges for sale across the street from downtown Kariakoo indoor and open-air market. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 2 September 2011. ! and became the partial political rationale for German efforts to consolidate colonial power through the tactical promotion of a new version of Swahili. At the recommendation of Carl Meinhof in 1905, a prominent German linguist responsible for the earliest, formal classification schemes of Bantu languages, and other likeminded colonialists, this new version of Swahili would be separated from its Islamic heritage through Romanization, and its many Arabic loanwords would be replaced by German vocabulary (Pike, 1986). It was thought that this linguistic intervention would serve to decrease Arab sympathies and promote European values, tandem causes that had already been undertaken by colony-funded and missionary-led formal schools in the territory, where Roman script was being deliberately used. Although Arabic script was officially disbanded 45 by the German regime in 1906, Swahili-speakers were observed to use the script in private correspondence at least into 1913, with formal Koranic schools continuing to teach the script to the chagrin of the colonials (Pike, 1986). Such authoritarian changes transformed local literacies throughout eastern Africa (even as Islamic schooling persisted in some areas) and exerted colonial power on the language in the production of grammars, dictionaries, bibles, and newspapers in Roman script (Fabian, 1986) (see Figure 3 below for a view of an Islamic school in Zanzibar). This meant that under the German regime Swahili was appropriated in practices that would continue under the British and serve to reify the positioning of the colonial settler in relation to the colonized subject through language use and the determination of ethnolinguistic boundaries (Fabian, 1986; Makoni & Meinhof, 2006). The colonial administration’s focus on language in Tanganyika was a realization of widespread European projects of proselytizing, ‘civilizing’, documenting and determining geographic boundaries, and categorizing peoples and languages, particularly through the systematic study of African languages now regarded as colonial linguistics (Irvine, 2008; Pugach, 2012). In this way, the complex relationship between native speakers of Swahili and European colonials (some of whom came to speak Swahili) during the German and British regimes was made even more complex by the construction of Africa and African languages within the colonial imagination and the linked objectives of Christianization and civilizing. By the time of the Maji Maji Rebellion (1905-1907), ‘Africa’ had already become an ‘imperial invention’ (Kalua, 2009, p. 27), a stereotype of darkness and savagery that necessitated the European’s documenting of the African’s languages in grammars so the African could be prescribed their own languages, as these languages came to be defined and 46 Figure 3. Courtyard of Islamic school in Stone Town, Zanzibar, Tanzania. 12 February 2012. codified by the European (Fabian, 1986; Irvine, 2008; Makoni, 2013). As the London-based Church Missionary Society referred to their own plans to document languages local to the Sierra Leone Colony for the purposes of translating Christian religious texts and training locals to teach scripture: ‘The number of different languages and dialects spoken by the…Africans should be exactly ascertained, from the most intelligent of the Natives belonging to the respective countries; and from them, should be collected all the information which they are capable of affording, relative to these tongues. A regular plan should be formed […] and means should be taken, that the most promising of these Natives should not only retain, but grammatically learn, their own tongues, with a view to their future services among their countrymen’ (As cited in Irvine, 2008, p. 324). 47 The notion of an ‘invented’ Africa is thoroughly explored in Ranger’s (1983 [2008]) ‘The invention of tradition in colonial Africa’ and cautiously reevaluated in his (1993) ‘The invention of tradition revisited: The case of colonial Africa’. Within these essay chapters, a historical account of the colonial experience, particularly throughout British-held regions of Africa (especially in Nigeria, Rhodesia, South Africa, and Uganda), is constructed which depicts how the improvisation and adaptation of European imperial customs on the Continent was implicated in the intricate ‘othering’ of the African and the consolidation and reenactment of European supremacy. While the colony-based British military school, ‘customary laws’, Anglican rituals, and celebrations of the British monarchy created an African reverence for the British uniform, English-language schooling, and cricket-playing, they each also hastened the codification of ethnolinguistic categories, class structures, and gender stratification in the colonies. In this, the ‘Native’ became a participant and subject within the Victorian imaginary of the Dark Continent. This altogether extended the racialized myth of Africa rationalized by the three or more centuries of Eurocentric explorations, occupations, exploitations that preceded it. About these colonial inventions, Ranger (1983 [2008], p. 242) writes: ‘All this is part of the history of European ideas, but it is also very much part of the history of modern Africa. These complex processes have to be understood before a historian can arrive at any understanding of the particularity of Africa before colonialism; many African scholars as well as many European Africanists have found it difficult to free themselves from the false models of colonial codified African ‘tradition’. However, the study of these processes is not only a part of historiography but of history.’ 48 Within this view, Ranger refers to the interests of the historian of Africa, regarding their work as linked to historiography in a concern for the way histories are constructed and grounded in layered perceptions of truth. This position is relevant not only to the historical study of African experiences, but also to the study of postcolonial linguistic landscapes and the sociohistorical relationships that speakers and language learners develop with particular languages, which may be understood as related to their investments in language learning. Such an investment in language learning ‘signals the socially and historical constructed relationship […] to the target language and [the] sometimes ambivalent desire to learn and practice it’ (Norton Peirce, 1995, p. 17). In the investigation of contemporary experiences in the learning and use of Swahili, it is the essential work of the applied linguist to acknowledge the enduring legacy of colonial linguistics on the construction and representation of African linguistic identities and realities, both within language and as a result of the use of language to produce knowledge and construct or delimit reality. This includes the acknowledging of the construction of parities in ethnicity and language, and the widespread, colonial administrative practice of naming peoples for their languages and vice versa, or the creation of names, such as ‘Bantu’ by the German linguist Wilhelm Bleek (Pugach, 2012), to refer to groups of speakers. Such colonial practice was implicated in the creation of ‘Standard th Swahili’ in the 20 century. As Irvine (2008, p. 338) contends: ‘Whatever shapes African societies had taken previously, and however variable or multifarious their populations’ ways of speaking, the moment of colonization is when they were given that particular inflection that turns cultural traditions and genealogies into ‘ethnicity’, turns linguistic practices into named ‘languages’ corresponding (supposedly) to ethnic groups, and interprets multilingualism as a secondary effect.! 49 Yet, it is often supposed that ethnolinguistic groups are primordial – timeless, homogeneous, and enduring – and more ‘real’ than any political regimes or institutional history. The colonial institutions that regimented these presupposed ethnolinguistic identities have left many traces in postcolonial Africa, including some part of an ‘ethnic’ self-consciousness among contemporary Africans. The primordialism attributed to created ethnolinguistic groups was a mainstay of the Eurocentricism that dictated colonial administrative practice, and remains a feature of modern-day African reality in some ways. It is for these reasons that it is also crucial to account for the participation of Swahili within the larger linguistic ecology of the settings in which it is used (Dar es Salaam, Mexico City), as well as the emergence of Kiswahili Sanifu, or Standard Swahili, from among varieties of the language as a measure of correctness, grammaticality, and authenticity. In the context of contemporary Tanzania and Dar es Salaam, its principal urban center, this linguistic ecology necessarily includes the local languages (some with smaller populations of speakers relative to Swahili) that became marginalized, and possibly regarded as ‘vernaculars’ through the historical rise of Swahili and the import of English, which made a more enduring 5 impact on the region than German. For example, in the present study, I made deliberate moves to represent spoken language (English, Spanish, Swahili, Twi) in transcripts as it was produced, as faithfully as possible (in some cases through collaboration with first-language !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 5 Even as the defeat of Imperial Germany in the First World War resulted in the abbreviation of the German colonial project in eastern Africa, the word shule (school) continues to feature prominently in postcolonial Swahili in some places, particularly in select areas of Tanzania and Kenya, and is popularly regarded as a cognate of the German schule (school). In some places, the word skuli (school), a likely cognate of the English school, is now also being used in Swahili as an alternative to shule. This was my observation in Dar es Salaam during fieldwork for this project (2011-2012). 50 speakers), regardless of whether or not it was identifiable as ‘Standard’ speech. In translations and glosses, I also include multiple, potential equivalents for some lexical items and phrases, so as not to overly limit the interpretation of their utterances. With Swahili, as with other African languages, a wide continuum of speakers spread across coastal and interior regions was already in place before the arrival of the European and the consolidation of European control some time later. What is different in the case of Swahili, however, is that along with the language there developed what Mazrui (2007, p. 1) refers to as a ‘hybridity’ of African and Arab cultures that would be actively countered by ‘the colonial fixation with simple binaries and the place of naturalized myths of racial and ethnic origins in imperial ideology’, and socio-politically enlarged in anti-colonial moves to accommodate all mainland speakers of the language regardless of Afro-Arab genealogy. This developed even as Waswahili (Swahili people) was used to refer to a core population of speakers in the coastal regions where the language was understood to have first developed. The unifying potential of Swahili was observed in the widespread Maji Maji Rebellion (1905-1907) which percolated through the colonial Tanganyikan countryside where communities plagued by drought had been ordered by the German regime to cultivate quotas of cotton. By the time the insurrection was put down by the Germans through the capture of key insurgents, armed battle, and the deliberate sanctioning of famine, some 200,000 to 300,000 Tanganyikans had lost their lives. Into the period following the Second World War, further Swahilization (in terms of the spread of the language) created circumstances that supported the anti-colonial organizing efforts of the Tanganyika African National Union (TANU), the political party that would usher in Nyerere’s presidency, and Swahili language 51 as political culture and national identity in Tanzania (Kihore & Chuwa, 2004; Whiteley, 1969). The Standardization of Swahili and the Introduction of English The legacy of the European encounter within African experiences compels the applied linguist and Swahilist of today to ground any postcolonial study of Swahili-language learning in an understanding of the impact of colonial linguistics and the enduring constructions of power through language in contemporary African countries such as 6 Tanzania. Referring to the transformations in African-language literacies instigated by colonial regimes, Makoni and Meinhof (2006, p. 119) address the Africanist applied linguist thus: ‘Literacy had an impact not only on the emergence of these language, but also on the social meanings which Africans had of their “own” languages and other languages, notable English and French. When we argue that the colonial encounter facilitated the “emergence” or the “springing up” of languages in Africa, we are not saying that prior to colonialism and literacy there was no speech in Africa or that there was any less ‘talk’ before colonialism, but that the ‘shredding’ of these speech forms into languages and some of our current ways of thinking about language in Africa are a product of literacy and colonialism. We can see this, for example, in the connection between Christianity, literacy, and language, including English’. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 6 Even before the formalization of European control in the region, the trade in the eastern African corridor was so extensive that ‘by the mid-1840s, Britain, France and America had each signed formal trading treaties with the sultan of Zanzibar’ (Pike, 1986, p. 212). This suggests that languages like English and French may have had a precolonial presence in some parts of eastern Africa. 52 The triumvirate of colonial power structures, missionary-led schooling, and English-medium practices placed the English language at a higher strata, subjugating Swahili and other languages, even as Swahili was being appropriated in missionary schools and churches (Fabian, 1983). The German, and later British, appropriation of Swahili was openly contested by some Tanganyikans and Kenyans in Swahili-language Islamic newspapers, some of which used Arabic script (Mazrui & Mazrui, 1996). Mbaabu (2007) quotes a published contribution in the Al-Islah newspaper of Mombasa, June 20, 1932. In a newspaper article entitled ‘Kiswahili cha Kisasa’ (Modern Swahili), the author makes it clear that the involvement of the ‘Wazungu’, the White/non-African foreigners, is destroying the Swahili language and creating a problem for ecology of ‘kitanganyikapo na Kiarabu’, or in situ Tanganyikan and Arabic elements existing within the language prior to the European’s arrival. ‘Ni madhara makubwa tupatayo kwa Kiswahili hiki kilichoharibiwa na Wazungu. Kiswahili ni lugha ya watu wa Pwani, nacho hakiwi safi ella kitanganyikapo na Kiarabu. Tangu kufika Wazungu, wamekigeuza na kukiharibu kwa wapendavyo wao; wamepunguza baadhi ya harufu ambazo ni lazima ziwemo katika baadhi ya maneno, na pengine hubadilika maana kwa kukosekana harufu hizo. Wameitungia vitabu vya nahau, na pengine hao watungao vitabu hivyo ni Wazungu wageni hawajui sana lugha hii, na ambao wavitowa makosa ni Wazungu wa bara, wasiojuwa Kiswahili’ 7 (As cited in Mbaabu, 2007, pp. 39-40). It is [a] great harm that we get with this Swahili which has been destroyed by Wazungu. Swahili is [the] language of people of [the] Coast, which hasn’t anything !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 7 For the full quoted excerpt, see Mbaabu (2007). 53 to clean excepting [the] Tanganyikan [in it] and Arabic. Since [the] arrival [of] Wazungu, they have changed [the language] and destroyed it for their aims/liking; they have reduced several of [the] sounds/letters which are necessary there/part of in several of [the] words, and possibly changed [the] meaning by mistaking those sounds/letters. They have composed books of idioms/grammar maybe those who have composed those books are Wazungu foreigners [that] don’t know this language well, and who put/issue in the books [the] mistakes of mainland Wazungu, who do not know Swahili. Within this statement there is palpable opposition to the handling of Swahili by Wazungu, and reference is made to the colonial enterprise of creating prescriptive texts on the language, and accompanying practices of changing the spelling of words in ways that greatly concerned the author (see also Fabian, 1983, for a discussion of missionary-driven colonial literacies). Thereafter, in the same year (1932), a published response came from Zanzibar-based missionary Canon G. W. Broomfield, author of Sarufi ya Kiswahili: A grammar of Swahili in Swahili for Swahili-speaking people (1931). This response was on behalf of the British-led East African Swahili Committee (formerly the Inter-territorial Language Committee) (Mbaabu, 2007; Whiteley, 1969). In his response to the author of the Al-Islah newspaper article, Broomfield makes clear that ‘ustaarabu wa Uropa’ (European civilization) is altering ‘Waafrika’ (Africans), and the changes to the Swahili language are a part of that ‘elimu mpya na utaalamu mpya’ (new education and new specialization/expertise). ‘Tena Afrika inawasiliana na ustaarabu wa Uropa; elimu mpya na utaalamu mpya wa kila aina unawafikia Waafrika. Kiswahili cha miaka ishirini tu iliyopita hakifai siku 54 hizi. Ni lazima lugha ibadilike na itabadilika, tupende tusipende…’ (As cited in Mbaabu, 2007, p. 41). 8 Again Africa is communication with [the] civilization of Europe; new education and new specialization/expertise of every kind is arriving/reaching Africans. Swahili of just/only twenty years ago is not viable these days. It is necessary [that the] language change and it will change, whether we like it or not… At the time of these published exchanges on the Swahili language, these years between 1930 and 1938, in addition to the years of Second World War, were crucial to the standardization of Swahili, as the language became formalized through proficiency testing in all ranks of the British colonial administration and military (Mbaabu, 2007). There were also language courses provided in London through the School of Oriental and African Studies (now part of the University of London) to soon-to-be colonial officers before their arrival in East Africa. This model of Swahili-language training prior to service was a replication of the German colonial practice before it (Pugach, 2012). In 1930 the Inter-territorial Language Committee chose the Zanzibari Swahili dialect, Kiunguja, as the source of Standard Swahili. The Committee also recommended a number of grammatical, spelling, and lexical adjustments to de-Arabicize the language in vocabulary and orthography, that filtered throughout the colonies, including British-held Kenya, Tanganyika, Uganda, and Zanzibar, in addition to Belgian-held Congo, Burundi, and Rwanda, all of which had administrative representatives on the Committee. The Committee also approved textbooks for teaching the language, in addition to other texts intended for the colonial classroom (Topan, 2008). These steps toward !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 8 See note above. 55 standardization resulted in the streamlining of communication throughout the colonies using Swahili, and enabled the administration to recruit ‘Natives’ into their hierarchy, all of which further consolidated colonial power (Mbaabu, 2007). As these changes were being exacted upon Swahili, and the language was being institutionalized through the linguistic, educational, and missionary avenues of the colonial project, deliberate attention to the introduction of English was also enacted. The English language was a medium of instruction in colonial Tanganyika and Zanzibar in the limited number of primary and secondary schools, vocational institutions, and teachers’ colleges (Topan, 2008). The use of the language as an educational medium presented challenges in the classroom for students, but for those who succeeded in gaining ability in the language and ascending through the system, there was the possibility of a civil service position within the colonial administration. English was the language of the higher ranks of the administration, army, and judiciary, making it essential knowledge for any potential upward mobility within the colony (Qorro, 2009). This created a linguistic divide within Tanganyika, wherein Swahili was the language of the people, and English was the language of power and economic advantage. Topan (2008, p. 257) describes the situation as one in which English increasingly became ‘socially strategic’ and ‘vertical’, ‘the language of progress, advancement, and social mobility’, while Swahili ‘functioned in the wider and popular “horizontal” areas of communication’. In truth, Swahili had already denoted a shared identity among Tanganyikans before the British took control of the region, and moving into the 1950s and 1960s, the language began to more directly relate a sense of national and cultural identity through its developing literature (Mazrui, 2007; Pike, 1986). 56 The growing status of Swahili as a collective linguistic identity set the change for the Swahili-centered oratorical and organizing efforts of Nyerere and the Tanganyika African National Union (TANU), a political party he founded in 1954. Speeches, community meetings, and rallies were conducted in Swahili, associating TANU’s aims with those of the greater public, rather than particular ethnic groups. Furthermore, the intentional use of Swahili enabled greater numbers of people to participate in the political process, a key aim of TANU (Kihore & Chuwa, 2004). TANU participated in the colonial parliament through the end of British rule in 1961, and ushered in an independent Tanganyika in its continued promotion of Swahili, endorsing it as the national language under Nyerere’s leadership, and the language of the new parliament (Chacha, 2003). Within this new nation English also continued to maintain a certain level of prestige as an official language. This was a situation Nyerere was keenly aware of, as illustrated in his 1990 speech as outgoing chairman of the ruling political party Chama cha Mapinduzi (CCM) that had formed from the 1964 union of TANU and the Afro-Shirazi Party of Zanzibar, which brokered the creation of Tanzania: Making Kiswahili Tanzania’s language helped us greatly in the battle against tribalism. If every Tanzanian had stuck to using his tribal language or if we had tried to make English the official language of Tanzania, I am pretty sure that we would not have created the national unity we currently enjoy. Although I am personally of the opinion that we should continue teaching English in our schools because English is the Kiswahili of the world, we have, however, an enormous duty to continue to promote and enhance Kiswahili. It is a great weapon for our country’s unity (As cited in Laitin, 1992, p. 91-92). 57 In independent Tanzania Swahili was employed to communicate pride in African and Tanzanian values, freedom, socialism and anticolonialism. There also continued to be an interest in English that persisted in the educational and governmental institutions originated under earlier colonial administrations. Tanzanian educational policy under Nyerere instituted Swahili-medium primary schooling in 1967, and continued earlier schemes of Englishmedium secondary and tertiary schooling. This policy has continued into the present day, even as the original aim of the Nyerere government was to extend Swahili-medium education into secondary schools by 1973 (Brock-Utne, 2010; Topan, 2008). Recommendations to implement Swahili as a medium of instruction were again outlined in 1982 by government advisory committees, and thereafter in 1998, but were not enacted. One of the continuing objectives of the educational policy is to graduate bilinguals competent in both Swahili and English, though in practice, there are a number of challenges (Brock-Utne, 2010; Qorro, 2009), and just over five percent of the country’s population speaks English (Topan, 2008). The Tanzanian government also continues to recruit bilingual 9 Swahili-English speakers. As the then Minister of Education stated in a 2004 speech to the members of Baraza la Kiswahili la Taifa (BAKITA, or National Swahili Council): ‘Serikali inazitambua lugha zote mbili kuwa za mawasiliano ya kiserikali: Kiswahili kama lugha ya taifa na Kiingereza kama lugha nyingine ya kiserikali. Kwa hiyo watumishi wa Serikali wanategemewa kuzijua vizuri lugha zote mbili. Serikali !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 9 It is necessary to indicate what languages are implicated by the use of the term ‘bilingual’ here. The vast majority of Tanzanians are speakers of one or more local languages in conjunction with one or more varieties of Swahili, making them multilinguals (e.g., BrockUtne & Holmarsdottir, 2004; Topan, 2008). These same speakers may also additionally speak English, and this is, in my experience, more likely in and around educational institutions and urban areas. 58 haitegemewi kuendeshwa kwa Kiswahili au Kiingereza kibovu’ (As cited in Qorro, 10 2009, p. 221). The government recognizes both [these] languages to be [for] governmental communication: Swahili as [the] national language and English as another governmental language. Therefore civil servants/salaried government employees are depended upon/expected to know [these] languages well. [The] government is not expected to be run with/through broken/wrong Swahili or English. Now a modern lingua franca for eastern and parts of central and southern Africa, which includes, Kenya, Rwanda, Burundi, parts of Uganda, parts of the Congo, the Comoro Islands, Oman, South Sudan, southern Somalia, and northern Mozambique, Swahili is an agglutinating, Bantu language with more than 100 million speakers (e.g., Ngonyani, 1998). It is further promoted by the Chama cha Kiswahili Afrika Mashariki (Organization of Swahili [for] East Africa), and the recently revived economic bloc, the East African Community, which already included Tanzania, Kenya, and Uganda when Rwanda and Burundi joined in 2007. Swahili Language and African Identity(ies) In 2004, Swahili become the only African language among the African Union’s (AU) official working languages. Owing to the widespread use of Swahili, Pan African theorists have considered the language in their discussion of the role an African language could play in facilitating the cultural and political unity of the African World (Armah, 1985; Chacha, !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 10 For the full quoted excerpt, see Qorro (2009). 59 2003; see also Figure 4 below). Perhaps it is the memory of Swahili’s ascent that motivated (then) Tanzanian ambassador to the AU, Mohammed Mandi, to share with fellow AU leaders on February 20, 2008 his commitment to promoting Swahili across the African continent by stating: ‘Your struggle for institutionalizing one pan-African [sic] language as a cultural identity for Africans will be continued’. Even so, the longstanding discussion on an African lingua franca appears to be missing a systematic investigation of how Swahili is being formally taught to Africans and non-Africans for whom the language is not a typical medium of communication. Moreover, there remains no discussion of what type of cultural identity is being promoted or achieved through the teaching of Swahili, and whether this identity is compatible with extant identities learners may have, or the development of a continental Pan African state. 60 Figure 4. In the language classroom a Ghanaian learner of Swahili wears a stylized top bearing the phrase, 'Kiswahili kwa umoja wa Afrika' (Swahili for African unity). Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 2 November 2011. Background Part Two: Swahili and the Study of Africa in Modern Mexico The making of modern Mexico may be viewed as beginning with the ultimate, violent subjugation of the Mexica (as the Aztecs called themselves) imperial city of Tenochtitlan in the siege led by Hernán Cortés in 1521 (Bray, 2009). The Spanish colonial regime built its 61 strategic center upon the temples and palaces of Tenochtitlan, eventually draining the lake surrounding the island city to expose the wider basin that the Mexico City of today spreads throughout. Originally, the establishment of Tenochtitlan in the Mexica year of Two Reed (AD 1324) was foreseen in a prophecy regarding the perching of an eagle on a growth of cactus as it held a snake within its beak. Today, the eagle, cactus, and snake are the symbols of a nation which represents the latest stage in the development of the region, and Mexico is the only Spanish-speaking, Latin American country where an African language, Swahili, has now been consistently taught for over 20 years. Instruction in the language is facilitated at a Mexico City university known for its coordinated practice of teaching languages as part of an area studies curriculum. Over the years, instructors have included native speakers from both the Democratic Republic of Congo (beginning when it was known as Zaire), and Kenya, as well as L2 speakers primarily trained in Tanzania. More specifically, Swahili has been taught in Mexico City as a requirement of the Master’s program in African studies, since its inception in the 1980s. In this way, the African studies program serves as a conduit for the learning of Swahili in Mexico, bringing Latin American students into contact with African and Africanist language instructors and professors. This illustrates a historical and ongoing trend in the outward spread of Swahili from its coastal genesis, particularly intensified through the period of colonial linguistics, and now sponsored by African studies programs in the countries across the Global South. Speakers of Swahili originating from or trained in eastern Africa (namely Kenya and Tanzania) act as language instructors at institutions around the world and thereby contribute to the growing numbers of second- or additional-language speakers of the language (e.g., on 62 Botswana – Batibo, 2003; on Libya and Uganda – Mtesigwa, 2009; on the U.S. – Bokamba, 2000; Moshi, 2006, 2011; Schleicher & Moshi, 2000; Thomas, 2011). 11 Students of these instructors, in turn, continue to teach Swahili to others in an outward spread that has reached Austria, Botswana, Brazil, China, Germany, Italy, Japan, South Korea, Libya, Mexico, Poland, Russia, and the U.S. (among other countries). Often, instructors of Swahili are sponsored by university centers and programs in African studies or African American studies. This, for example, is the case of Swahili at select African studies programs in universities in India (Biswas, 2007). Colonial Encounters, the ‘Third Root’, and Mestizaje Chege Githiora (2008a), having come to Mexico from Kenya for undergraduate studies in the 1990s, describes his encounter with a resident of Guerrero in modern-day Oaxaca by the surname of ‘Chegüe’, and how the two of them were immediately overcome by the similarities in their names and their shared, African origins. As Githiora (2008a, p. xii) recounts of their meeting: ‘Amado and I moved to one side, quite tripping over our own questions. Where are you from? He asked me. Are you really not from Guerrero? Where are the rest of the Chegües, and how many are there? I also wanted to know. “Africa!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “Do they not say we, los negros de Guerrero, came from Africa?” Githiora (2008a) goes on to trace evidence of a Francisco Cengue Cengue, as documented in Spanish and Mexican national archives, an enslaved person who died in the Tuxla sugar !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 11 See, for example, the second footnote in Brock-Utne and Holmarsdottir (2004, p. 68) that mentions a university professor of Swahili language having returned to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, on holiday after having taught the language in Osaka, Japan, for the previous two years. 63 factory in Veracruz some time around 1585. In this, there is palpable evidence of a historical Cengue, a likely speaker of a Bantu language (possibly Zulu), who was baptized as ‘Francisco’ upon arrival in the Spanish colony of Nueva España, or New Spain, and initiated into slavery. The story of Cengue relates the Spanish colonial practice of Catholicizing new African arrivals, and imposing the Spanish language while prohibiting the use of African languages in the colony. The documented life of a ‘latinized’ Cengue brings into sharp relief, for Githiora (2008a), his own ‘anglicized’ childhood experience in baptism in Kenya by a local Irish, Catholic missionary, through which he took on the name ‘John’. The modern teaching of Swahili in Mexico City through the coming of native speakers to Mexico can be viewed as a permutation of previous historical events which brought early Swahili-speakers known as Zibaros (likely from Zanzibar) to New Spain, following the 1502 Portuguese incursion on eastern African coastal city-states (Beltrán, 1946). Trade in enslaved persons between the Portuguese and Spanish would also transport to New Spain, sometimes by way of colonial Brazil and Cuba, other speakers of languages related to Swahili during the 1500s and 1600s (Githiora, 2008a). These speakers were variously labeled in summary lists of imports by their captors as Angola, Mbundu, Zoza [Xhosa], Zulu (Bennett, 2009; Ngou-Mve, 1994), and became ultimately referred to as Negros (Blacks). All throughout the colonial period, Africans would continue to feature prominently in New Spain, at times greatly outnumbering Spaniards in Mexico City by a factor of 20 to 1 (Githiora, 2008a). As the mining and sugar industries dramatically expanded in the colony, so did the importing of enslaved Africans, especially between 1580 and 1640. The exploitation of 64 slaves was central to the colonial economy, from the mine and plantation, to the urban setting. As Proctor III (2009, p. 23) outlines: ‘Slavery was also very important in Mexico’s urban centers, particularly Mexico City, through the second half of the eighteenth century. While historians generally treat urban slaves in New Spain as domestic servants and “status symbols…used by elites…to advertise their social standing,” they filled important roles in the urban economies as master craftsmen, street vendors, day laborers, and shop keepers for their owners, among others, throughout the colonial period’. In their great number and dispersal throughout the colony from the ports of Veracruz and Córdoba in the west, to the port of Oaxaca in the east, Africans became ubiquitous to the economic, social, and political fabric of the Spanish colony. At the same time, small and large-scale slave rebellions remained a challenge for the colonial administration. On occasion, successful rebellions would lead to the establishment of African and Indian maroon communities in remote mountainous areas. One such armed insurrection, led by the legendary Gaspar Yanga, son of a Yang-Bara King of the Dinka nation (possibly southern Sudan), resulted in a guerilla campaign and military stalemate that allowed a maroon community to persist unchallenged for 30 years in the Veracruz mountains of Sierra de Zongolica, beginning in 1579 (Githiora, 2008a). In 1612, rumor of another, even larger planned insurrection by Yanga reached the colonial viceroy, and on May 2 of that year in Mexico City’s central plaza, a public hanging of 35 enslaved Africans was organized in retaliation, supposedly demonstrating to fearful colonials that the plot had been disarmed. The dismembered body parts of some of these hanged female and male enslaved bodies were staked around the city, and a select number of the bodies were drawn-and-quartered (Githiora, 65 Figure 5. 'El Yanga: Negro Africano precursor de la libertad de los negros esclavos.' (Yanga: Black African precursor of the freedom of the Black slaves). Yanga, Mexico. 25 April 2011. The statue placard goes on to read: ‘Fundó este pueblo de San Lorenzo de Cerralvo (hoy Yanga) por acordado del Virrey de Nueva España Don Rodrigo Osorio Marquez de Cerralvo el día tres de octubre del año de 1631 por mandato del Virrey trazó el 66 pueblo el Capitán Hernando de Castro Espinosa H. Ayuntamiento Constl. 1973-1976. V. Yanga ver agosto 10 de 1976 primer pueblo libre de América.’ The town of San Lorenzo de Cerralvo (today Yanga) was founded by agreement of the Viceroy of New Spain Don Rodrigo Osorio Marquez Cerralvo the 3rd day of October in the year 1631 by order of the Viceroy [leading to] the town Captain Hernando de Castro Espinosa H. [mayor] Constl. 1973-1976. V. Yanga [being on] August 10, 1976 first free town in America. 2008a; Proctor III, 2009). This display notwithstanding, the viceroy then sent a battalion of over 100 soldiers to Veracruz to subdue Yanga’s stronghold, and were ultimately successful in breaching the enclave, capturing some, though other inhabitants escaped. It was at this point that Yanga refused to accept total defeat and instead requested a treaty, which was granted by the pressured Spanish viceroy, and allowed for the establishment of a free African community at a site away from the mountains, near the colonial stronghold of Córdoba, that was named San Lorenzo de los Negros. Today renamed Yanga, the modest town features a bold, bronze statue of the leader, who is credited with mounting the first successful largescale insurrection on the enslaved Atlantic (see Figure 5 above). While the story of Yanga and African experiences largely disappeared from public memory through the succeeding centuries of colonial control, and today is not well known among the Mexican populace, the town he established is a remarkable reminder of the African presence in Mexico. To this day, Mexican cultural innovations such as mariachi and son jarocho musical and dance forms, menudo stews, and the pervasive expletives chingar and chingada are attributed to African origins (Hernández Cuevas, 2004). Additionally, the 67 study of the African experience in colonial and contemporary Mexico and Latin America has developed into a robust area of interdisciplinary inquiry (Vinson III, 2009). Such research, extending from the 1940s, has uncovered how in colonial Mexico slavery and privilege were regulated by the Spanish colonial regime in a system of castas (castes) (see Figure 6 below for a close up of a painted scheme of these castes). The system outlined as many as 64 delineations of ‘race’ to categorize the emerging populace born to what were deemed Blancos (Whites), Indios (Indians), and Negros (Blacks) (Hernández Cuevas, 2004). As Vaughn (2005, p. 133) notes [emphasis his own]: ‘Importantly, in contradistinction to the later national period, in which almost no mention of Blacks is made, the colonial casta system was obsessed with blackness. If we consider fourteen of the most commonly cited categories (negro, mulato, morisco, albino, negro torneatrás, español, castizo, mestizo, indio, coyote, tente en el aire, cambujo, chino, and, lobo). Ten of them (in boldface) involve some degree of Black ancestry. In comparison, categories involving a degree of indigenous and Spanish ancestry are reflected in eight or the seven castas, respectively. It appears that the specific quantity of “black blood,” however small, was crucial to the imagination of the racial categories’. After some 300 years of Spanish rule, Mexican independence was officially recognized in 1821. No longer of domestic economic advantage to the burgeoning territory, slavery in Mexico, which had begun with the enslavement and indenturing of local Mexican populations shortly after 1521, and into the 1550s, was legislatively abolished in 1824, with the last slaves freed in 1829. However, the castas system had made a lasting impact, along with the coordinated colonial projects of Christianization (especially during the Mexican 68 Inquisition, 1571-1820), and the suppression of languages local to the Mexican region, and those transported by enslaved Africans. The years following the abolition of slavery would signal important changes in the development of modern Mexico, interrupted only briefly by an imperial French occupation (1864-1867), and the engagement with the U.S. in the Mexican-American War over the abolition of slavery in Texas (which resulted in the significant loss of territory for Mexico). At the start of the Mexican Revolution in 1910, forms of serfdom dominated the economic system, limiting educational opportunities for the masses, the majority of whom spoke languages other than Spanish. Spanish was effectively the language of Mexican elites (Hérnandez Cuevas, 2004). Figure 6. Close-up of 1500s segmented painting of castas, particularly #15, 'Tente en el Aire, con Mulata = Noteentiendo'. Tepozotlán, Mexico. 2 January 2013. 69 Into the 1920s, during the cultural phase of the Mexico Revolution, the policies instituted by José Vasconcelos, minister of education from 1921 to 1924, would succeed in furthering the racial ideology outlined during the Spanish colonial regime through the widespread establishment of Spanish-medium schools (Hérnandez Cuevas, 2004). The concept of mestizaje (miscegenation, racial mixing) as developed and promoted by Vasconcelos, held that the goal of Mexico should be to encourage further racial mixing so as to erase the biological African presence and achieve a ‘cosmic race’. This new race would be a Whiter Mexican population on genetically and linguistically on par with its progenitors in Spain, but unique in its hereditary blend with Indians. In this re-branding of Mexican history as the consequence of the racial mixing of Whites and Indians, the African contribution (now recognized by some as a ‘Third Root’) was deliberately elided. As Hérnandez Cuevas (2004, p. 2) observes, ‘Vasconcelos’ plan to Hispanicize Mexico, beyond its cultural aspects, included a racist agenda whereby African Mexicans were portrayed as inferior and caricatured’. Similarly, Githiora (2008a, p. 10) concludes that ‘the policy of placing all socioracial categories into a single mestizos one, coupled with already prevalent racism, contributed to the disenfranchisement of Afro-Mexicans and indigenous Mexicans’. Today, official tourism commercials and government-sponsored, public celebrations of Mexican independence advertise the modern nation as the blend of Indian and Spanish heritage, and make no mention of an African presence. There also continues to be a popular affinity of images distorting and caricaturing African phenotypes such as the ‘sambofabrication’ of Memín Penguín, a dark-skinned, monkey-like, young boy character in the Mexican comic book series of the same name (e.g., Githiora, 2008a, p. 180), which has also featured on Mexican national stamps, drawing a negative response from the U.S. 70 government (Associated Press, 2005). Some food packaging and branding is also imbued with similarly racialized images, including the Negrito (Little/Cute Black) chocolate pastry sweets I encountered during my stay in Mexico (see Figure 7 below). Altogether, the government-sanctioned marginalization of African descendants in Mexico has resulted in the continuation of linguistic practices that place emphasis on racial categories. The active use, for example, of terms such as Moreno (Brown-skinned) and Negro (Black) to refer to African-descended Mexicans is a vestige of the public construction of racial difference. To publically refer to someone as Negro (Black) in Mexico can relate an insult (Githiora, 2008a). Within these same schemes of identification, however, are spaces of resistance created by African-descended Mexicans who variously refer to themselves as Afromexicanos (Afromexicans), Moreno (Brown-skinned), and Negro (Black), to display pride in their collective representation (e.g., Githiora, 2008a; Vaughn, 2005). Modern Alliances in the Development of African Studies in Mexico In 1982, the Africa-Latin America Seminar took place in Cairo, bringing together political figures and Africanist and Latin Americanist scholars from countries across the respective regions, including Argentina, Brazil, Egypt, France, Guatemala, Nigeria, Peru, Somalia, Sudan, Venezuela. The steering committee had been composed of representatives from a number of organizations, including the Council for the Development of Social Science Research in Africa (CODESRIA), and the Latin American Social Science Council (CLACSO). The purpose of the Seminar was to instigate the presentation and discussion of papers regarding foreign relations, international cooperation, and the intercontinental 71 Figure 7. Negrito chocolate pastry sweets packaged by Bimbo brand. Mexico City, Mexico. 23 February 2011. development of African studies. As it was later documented in a published volume produced entirely in English, and printed in Mexico City, a key goal was to address ‘how to support, encourage and disseminate studies on Africa in Latin America and vice versa’ (Legoretta (Ed.), 1984, p. 12). As Boutros Boutros Ghali, then Egyptian Minister of State, remarked at the opening of the meeting: 72 ‘Both Latin America and Africa are interested in comprehensive dialogue between North and South, but a pre-requisite [sic] of that North-South dialogue is that the countries of the South start talking amongst themselves; in other words a South-South dialogue should be established. The South-South dialogue is essential for mutual understanding and for the appreciation of the problems and difficulties that developing countries face; to compare notes on the ways and means we have worked out to meet similar challenges’ (Legoretta (Ed.), 1984, p. 19). Some key papers discussed trends in the developing study of Africa in Latin American contexts. This included ‘The impact of the Latin American dependency school on African studies’ by Moustafa Kamel El Sayed, and ‘The Study of Africa in Latin America’ by Manuel Ruiz. In the paper entitled ‘Africa from the standpoint of Latin America’, Jesus Contreras Granguillhome, a Mexican university professor, refers to the contemporary state of African studies in 1980s Latin America, writing: ‘…when mention is made of the African continent, descriptive phrases are often mistakenly utilized implying scorn or the belief that in Africa everything is backward, savage, and primitive. This stems from ideas spread by the Europeans, dating back to their strongest era of colonial expansion, so as to justify their actions vis-à-vis Africa. This international distortion included a religious element; on the basis of the cultural and religious “superiority” of the Europeans, Catholicism came to play a central part which for them was indisputable, since it was stronger than any other religion in Africa (animism, Islamism) […] So as to eradicate these misconceptions, we would do well to analyze the entire set of elements comprising African life and its structures: language, conceptual systems, common grounds, forms of ancestry, religious 73 organizations, clan structures, and economic and political systems. This approach offers us a better basis for analysis and allows us to observe the past and the future form a more favourable [sic] perspective, avoiding the ideas and myths inherited from the colonial era’ (Legoretta (Ed.), 1984, p. 438). At the conclusion of the conference several perspectives were shared among participants in the form of commentary responses to presentations. One such commentary, given by another Mexican university professor, discussed the ongoing development of a program in African studies in Mexico. Referring to the protracted process of developing academic collaborations, he remarked: ‘Just as it had taken us, in Mexico, in my institution, three years to think about and prepare a program for SubSahara African studies [sic] and, finally, to implement it and to negotiate and obtain the cooperation of a number of institutions in Africa, UNESCO, etc. and also to make arrangements with the other Mexican institutions interested in this. It took us three years and we are starting now. We shall not see much result from it for another two, three or four years. In Mexico, when you speak of doing studies on Africa, or Asia, people say to you: “but why do you not study the United States, that is a more important problem” (Legoretta (Ed.), 1984, p. 532).’ As may become clear from this excerpt, the recently inaugurated, formal Mexico program in African studies described above is the very program that the present study is situated within. The totality of these remarks from the Africa-Latin American Seminar illustrates how emergent, intercontinental collaborations were central in the development of the Mexico City program in African studies. At the time, there was also an awareness of the colonial legacy as an intervening factor in African-Latin American relations. By focusing on the learning of 74 Swahili in a Mexico City program in African studies, the present research offers insights into the particular consequences of the scholarly pursuit of Africa within the context of a nation that posits an estranged historical relationship with Africa. The Dar es Salaam Setting: Classroom and Participants Early Impressions Disembarking from my British Airways flight at the Julius Nyerere International Airport, my carry-on luggage in hand, I could already feel the heat and humidity of an equatorial August. Using the schillings I had just exchanged dollars for, I bought a SIM card at the airport, and waited for my Blackberry too boot up and join the Tigo network. I checked the cellphone’s screen: Country code, +255. I had arrived in the coastal city of Dar es Salaam, and luckily it was a place I was somewhat familiar with, given my travel in the Swahili GPA Program in the year before I had started graduate school. Still, the black and white checkered street curbs, sandy sidewalks, and billboards in Swahili were all feeling really unfamiliar. It was surreal; after some 30 hours of flight time and layovers, I had really made it to Tanzania! I absorbed it all as I entered the city, seated in the rear of a local taxi, on what would have been the driver’s side back in Los Angeles, where I had originated. After some street traffic, and a few roundabouts and stoplights, the long stretch of asphalt road winded around closer to the center of the sprawling city, and I caught a distant glimpse of the university where I would be meeting with professors and students as soon as I was able (see Figure 8 below for a view of city transport). I arrived with virtually zero information regarding the Swahili language program at the university, which was all the data I could gather beforehand, and so my first tasks were to gather as many details about the upcoming semesters as I could. As I was not an official student, I was unable to live in the campus dorms with the study abroad 75 students. However, through a friend, I was able to find long-term accommodation at a nearby inn within walking distance from the campus, and this allowed me to maintain contact with a number of students and key informants outside of classroom hours. As I learned, between its various divisions, some 19,000 students (mostly Tanzanian nationals) were registered at the Dar es Salaam university where I focused my research efforts. It is likely that there were some 30 to 40 study abroad students at any given time on the campus, though this figure does not include the numbers of students from Zimbabwe or Uganda who did not attend information sessions for international students, or mingle regularly with students I knew from the Swahili-language classes. During a campus tour, I met students from Austria, Canada, France, Japan, Finland, Germany, Ghana, Italy, South Korea, Uganda, and the U.S. Not long after beginning my observations at the university, I began to realize how, even though there were a number of non-African students on the campus, the language learning activity of these students remained an subject of curiosity for local Tanzanian students. Some would approach us in English, asking why we were there studying Swahili, and we would explain that we wanted to know the language, that we had begun learning it in the U.S. or South Korea, or or Italy, or Ghana, or China, or Austria, where we had come from. On one occasion, I was standing with an American student in the copy center on campus, and she and I were approached by a male Tanzanian university student, who was friendly, and inquired in English as to why we were there at the university. We told him we were studying Swahili, that we knew Swahili, and he responded with disbelief, demanding proof that we knew Swahili. By this point, everyone in the copy center, even the attendants behind the counter, were paying attention to our exchange. The Tanzanian student next asked me to 76 translate a Swahili phrase he recited. To his surprise, I translated the phrase in full, proving our case. Then, the student appeared a bit flabbergasted, but thoroughly pleased, and we continued speaking for a short while thereafter in English. Reflecting upon that experience on campus, I was later able to see how two elements were at play in our interaction in the copy center: (1) We were noticed as outsiders, as 12 foreigners , which encouraged locals to approach us with English, and (2) there were a genuine expectation among local students that we outsiders would be unable to comprehend Swahili. I now regard this exchange as an open test of my communicative competence in Swahili, as so many daily encounters on and off campus were. This is an experience similar to those recounted by many study abroad learners in locations around the world, where they are unexpected to be speakers of the local lingua franca. A growing number of research !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 12 In later reflections upon this speech event with the learner who was with me in the campus copy center at the time, we came to realize how our hairstyles and hair textures appeared to play a role in our being perceived as outsiders and foreigners. In my case, it could have been that my hair was locked, which was an atypical hairstyle, particularly for women in the area. Or, another tell could have been that I was dressed in pants, or wearing eyeglasses, both nonnormative practice for local women. My friend, the learner who was there with me, later remarked in our subsequent conversation that, over the course of her stay she had received several comments from local Tanzanians regarding her naturally straight, smoothly textured hair. It seemed that her fair skin (from her Filipino and European heritage) and straight hair drew attention to her difference. In another later conversation with a Tanzanian student at the university, another friend, I learned that from the perspective of some Tanzanians I might be recognized as racially Black, but as a ‘1.5’, a sort of diluted Black person who was not ‘fully Black’ or African, because of a skin color lighter than others. Personally, I consider myself to be of a medium hue. However, my experience with race as a socially constructed category stems largely from my having grown up in the U.S., where it is more common that African descendants without known, direct, or relatively recent family ties to countries in Africa, the Caribbean, and Latin America, are collectively considered to be ‘Black’ and ‘African American’. This is not to say that some differentiation based on skin color does not occur in the U.S. However, in my experience, because in the U.S. we may be more accustomed to greater variations in skin color, this feature alone is not the only aspect of someone’s appearance that may cause them to be perceived as ‘Black’. Again, all of these observations may have contributed to our visibility as non-Tanzanians, therefore illustrating the ways in which identity played a role in our speaking Swahili and English in Dar es Salaam. 77 studies in second language acquisition attest to these study abroad learners’ challenges in gaining opportunities for use and practice of the target language in the host country (see, for example, Trentman, 2012). In fact, each time I boarded a daladala (local minibus), made a purchase at market, answered the phone, or replied to a text message in Swahili, I was being tested. This is I why at the time of my fieldwork I considered myself to be living an experience very similar to that of the students I was following. I was like them, an outsider to Tanzanian life, making stays with local families, climbing in buses for touristic activities, journeying down to the local Indian social club for a nighttime game of bingo, picking up on new word meanings and local proverbs. That was Dar es Salaam. Figure 8. Daladala 'Big Fish & Phat Joe' en route to Kariakoo downtown. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 16 September 2011. 78 Swahili Studies at the University The Swahili language is taught at the university through a program in Swahili studies, which offers courses in Swahili linguistics, literature, and African philosophy taught in the Swahili language for proficient speakers, in addition to courses in Swahili language for learners, who are typically on study abroad from non-African countries. The Swahili studies program is the only degree-granting unit on campus that focuses exclusively on African, and/or Swahili-speaking, locales, histories, and cultures. Bachelor’s, as well as Master’s and doctoral, degrees are offered through the Swahili studies unit, and starting in 1970 coursework was offered exclusively with Swahili as the language of instruction. The Swahili studies program follows in the longstanding, more than 50-year tradition of an academic unit known worldwide for its work in the lexicography, linguistics, and literary study of Swahili language and culture (with this activity having begun as a colonial endeavor under the British; see Waliaula, 2013 for more discussion). In its information booklet, the Swahili studies program addresses Bachelor’s students thus: Ndugu Mwanafunzi, 13 ----. Umefanya uamuzi bora kabisa wa kuchagua kusoma Lugha ya Kiswahili na Fasihi yake; uamuzi ambao, ikiwa utakuwa makini na kufanya bidii, utakufaidisha na kukuelekeza katika maendeleo yako mwenyewe na ya Taifa kwa ujumla. Milango ya maendeleo itafunguliwa mmoja baada ya mwingine, hatimaye utaweza kujiajiri mwenyewe au kuajiriwa. Lugha ya Kiswahili inakua kwa haraka sana na kuenea katika jamii na mataifa mbalimbali duniani. Wale wanaojua ukweli huu si wote wanaotaka kuusema; na wale ambao hawajui, wanabaki kubahatisha na kubabaisha !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 13 Identifying information elided from this statement. 79 hoja. Uamuzi wako wa kuja kusoma Kiswahili utayafunua maarifa haya na mengine mengi yaliyomo katika elimu mbalimbali duniani. Kupitia katika masomo haya ya BA Kiswahili utagundua maeneo mengi ambayo wewe mwenyewe utaamua na kuchagua ni lipi la kumakinikia, kisha kujiendeleza katika uga huu wa taaluma. Dear/Fellow Student, ----. You have made the utmost best decision of choosing to study [the] Language of Swahili and its Literature; [a] decision which, if you will be focused/steady and work diligently, you will benefit yourself and direct/conduct yourself in your own development and [that] of [the] Nation in general. The doors of development will be opened one after another, ultimately you will be able to employ yourself [on your own] or be employed. [The] Swahili language is growing very rapidly and spreading in[to] various societie[s] and nations [throughout the] world. Those who know this truth are not everyone who wants to say it; and those who do not know, they remain struggling [by chance] and wandering [in] need. Your decision to come to study Swahili will uncover this education/training and much more which is within varied education worldwide. Passing/succeeding in these studies of the BA [in] Swahili you will discover many areas which you yourself will decide [upon] and choose are when you are focused upon them, then you will develop yourself in this emerging academic field. As evidenced in this letter to students, the Swahili studies program, offering a course of study on African language and experience, acknowledges study of the language to be a growing path to employment and international opportunities that will bring benefit to the nation of 80 Tanzania, as well as to the individual student. In one of its other pamphlets, the program makes explicit mention of Mexico as one of the countries to which its graduates are able to look to as a potential opportunity for employment in teaching the language. Language Teaching Methodology On campus, the language of instruction and official communication was English, except for courses and correspondence facilitated by the university department of Swahili Studies, including courses in Swahili language, linguistics, and literature. In my first week at the department of Swahili Studies, I was lucky enough to begin to meet recently arrived, study abroad students from the U.S., their American professors, and Tanzanian liaisons at the university. With their permission, I began to sit in on Swahili-language classes whenever I found out about them. That is, there was no posted or available schedule, but I was able to find out, by word of mouth, sometimes from students, sometimes from professors, when these classes would be, and I would just show up and introduce myself and explain what I hoped to do. In each of these classes, which varied in their start and end dates, depending on the study abroad program or plan participating students were involved in, I assumed the role of the participant observer. I would sit with or behind students, and take notes as they did throughout the lesson, sometimes joining in on songs, and in-class exercises like storytelling. All in all, I followed and participated in seven different Swahili-language courses: four at the beginning level, two at the intermediate level, with one at the advanced level. Though the classes varied in their use of syllabi, and the scheduling of written and oral exams, all of the classes (except for the advanced class) used the same, department-authored language textbook. When I arrived in August, the regular semester had not yet begun, and the 81 two summer language classes were meeting everyday for two hours with afternoon conversation sessions. Going into the second week of October, with the start of the regular semester, these summer classes concluded, and the next language classes would meet two or three times a week for 45 minutes at the shortest, and for 60 to 90 minutes at the longest. I made it my job to attend as many class meetings as my schedule would allow (some class times overlapped). I also accompanied an advanced student of Swahili from one of the language courses to lectures of the Swahili-medium course in African Philosophy, and attended a lecture in the course on African history (outside of the Swahili Studies department). In each of the beginning and intermediate classes, the basic teaching methodology was grammar-translation, where English was used to communicate and explain the bulk of Swahili grammar and cultural points, and students were frequently requested to translate Swahili words and phrases into English and vice versa. Typical classroom activity included teacher-led explanations and translations of Swahili-language paragraphs, and grammar such as tense and relative pronouns. In these classes, the teacher regularly stood at the front of the room to lead the class, writing out paragraphs or example sentences on the chalkboard. On occasion, when students were called upon to share paragraphs or stories they had written, they were directed to come to the front of the room and face the class for their performance. In the advanced class, however, the language of instruction was Swahili, and the teacher spoke English maybe only one or two words in an entire class, if at all, instead using Swahili to explain other unknown Swahili words. Differently from the teachers of the other classes, the teacher of the advanced class would explicitly request that students use Swahili, and if students were unsure of a Swahili word, the teacher would interrupt their use of an 82 alternative language (typically English) and encourage other students to assist in supplying the appropriate Swahili word. In this class typical activity was for learners to stand at the front of the class, with the teacher seated in the rear, and deliver prepared stories or reviews of articles. Their delivery would at times be interrupted by the teacher for the purposes of making a comment or correcting major errors, and afterwards the teacher would ask another student to summarize what was previously said, or offer a rebuttal. Then, the teacher would come to the front of the room and use the chalkboard to make note of errors and draw out a game of hangman or sketch out a list of words and phrases to give a short lesson. 14 Dar es Salaam Participants Across the seven language classes I observed, I provide in this ethnography excerpts of talk from four of these classes, each occurring during the regular semester at the university. Although I do also include excerpts from interviews with instructors and administrators in addition to learners, in this study my focus is on the learner experience, and out of a concern to protect the anonymity of university faculty, I do not list the specific attributes of these instructors and administrators. However, learners who feature in the excerpts of class talk as well as interviews, are listed in Table 1 (below), to provide a sense of how they each figure into my account of their experiences in the Dar es Salaam Swahili-language classroom. These means that not all of the learners in each classroom are specifically detailed in this study—the beginning-level language class included some 10 or 12 learners; there were about !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 14 In this advanced class, there was the potential for me to learn new, more obscure Swahili nahau (idioms), tasifida (euphemisms), and other turns of phrase, and I found this to be relatively more stimulating than the other classes. I was already familiar with the basics of Swahili, having studied it all throughout college and in language programs in Kenya and Tanzania, but there still new things that could learn. 83 15 learners in Magdalena’s intermediate class, seven learners in the other intermediate class, and 15 learners in the advanced class (a couple of students began in one class and later switch to another, and a few others stopped attending at different points throughout the semester). All learners were undergraduate students, between the ages of 19-25 years, completing bachelor’s degrees at their home institutions. With consideration for their identities, each of these Dar es Salaam participants is assigned a pseudonym. In the cases where learners were known by their chosen Swahili names, I elect to use these names as a show of respect for their claims of Swahili-language identity. Another important point is that in order to have more hours and experience in the language classroom, a small number of learners would attend both the intermediate and advanced classes. However, to reduce confusion, I list learners under the class in which they appear in the talk excerpts I present herein. In the next section of this chapter, I present excerpts from the Dar es Salaam language classroom to illustrate the normative teaching practices of the setting, as well some of the key issues discussed on campus. In lieu of presenting a singular, potentially decontextualized excerpt, I situate these excerpts within an ethnographic vignette of surrounding talk. Ghanaian Students. Though individually from different areas in and around Accra, all of the Ghanaian students knew each other before their arrival in Tanzania because the five of them had been previously studying Swahili together in the same classes at their home university. This was their first time in Tanzania, and their yearlong stay was through a study abroad language program sponsored by the Ghanaian government, and organized specifically for the purposes of studying Swahili. When I first met these students during the university orientation for international students, we spoke in English, a language they were all very able. 84 They were still settling into the more regular of use of Swahili, which they had been studying as a foreign language in Ghana, where English was the medium of education. During our first encounters I casually asked them how they had come to be in Tanzania, they told me that their goal was to‘become fluent in Swahili’. They spoke of future opportunities to work with the ECOWAS 15 Bank based in Dar es Salaam or elsewhere internationally, like some previous graduates they knew had done, and there the possibility of teaching the language back in Accra, and continuing on to graduate-level studies. In our conversations, they described to how in the campus dorms, local Tanzanian university students would approach them in Swahili, assuming they spoke the language because they were Black Africans. In some cases, the Ghanaian students told me they would have to tell the Tanzanian students to speak more slowly, or explain that they were unable to understand the Swahili, and this is how they were detected as non-Tanzanians. For the most part, the Ghanaians passed for Tanzanians, and they felt that they could use this to their advantage, to gain more opportunities in speaking Swahili. In our interview, Happiness revealed that the group of them had come to Dar es Salaam because Tanzania was understood to be the place to study Standard Swahili. One of her expectations was to gain a number of Tanzanian friends with whom she could speak Swahili: ‘Kupata marafiki wengi ambao kutoka Tanzania kuzungumza Kiswahili pamoja na mimi’. Being in Tanzania was similar to being in Ghana, where most people are Black, and ‘you feel like you fit in’. Comparing the intermediate and advanced classes that she participated in, Happiness regarded the advanced class as difficult because of the range of vocabulary, saying that she could probably understand 50% of what was occurring. Differently, Gladys stated she could !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 15 ECOWAS is the abbreviation for the economic bloc of West Africa, the Economic Community of West African States. 85 understand about 70-80% of the Swahili spoken in the advanced class; Eloise could more comfortably understand 90% of the class. This illustrates the dramatic disparity and jump between the levels, as they were enacted by teachers; there was a big difference between the amount and level of Swahili spoken in the intermediate and advanced classes, as well as a range of abilities among learners in each class. Chinese Students. As with the Ghanaian students, the same was the case for the Chinese students, who had arrived together as part of a Chinese government-sponsored, 8month language program in Swahili and English. Through our interviews, I eventually learned that the five Chinese students had been studying together in the same language classes for the past two years at a Beijing university. Each of them arrived in Dar es Salaam with chosen Swahili names taken during their first semester learning Swahili, some two years prior. Hamisi and Bakari told me that they were all speakers of what they called ‘Kichina Sanifu’ (Standard Chinese), in a manner of describing Mandarin, as well as ‘lahaja’ (dialects), particular to the different provinces they individually came from in China, including Gansu, Guangdong, Hunan, and Jiangsu. For one of those years in Beijing, they had been instructed by a Swahili-language instructor I had previously studied with at Michigan State University! This proved to me that the global networks of Swahili-language instruction and Swahili studies were indeed interdependent. These students explained to me that they had become interested in Swahili because it was a lesser studied language in China, and they figured that they would gain a unique skill that could carry them into careers in research, interpreting, news broadcasting, and entrepreneurial business. They were all familiar with English because it had been part of their educational curriculum in China, and they described themselves as being better at receptively 86 Table 1. Dar es Salaam participants featured in the study, grouped by classroom excerpts in which they appear. Previous Learner Name Country M F of Origin Swahili L1(s) Interview (semesters) Language(s) Beginning Akida x Chausiku Faki U.S. x 0 English U.S. English 0 English U.S. x English English 0 English U.S. English 0 English Maua x Habiba x South Korea Korean 0 English, Korean Lulu x South Korea Korean 0 English, Korean Ndoto x South Korea Korean 0 English, Korean Raha x South Korea Korean 0 (no interview) Beginning Intermediate (Magdalena’s class) + x + Bahati + Bakari Eloise* Felix* Chinese 4 Swahili Italy Italian 6 Swahili China Chinese 4 Swahili Ghana Ewe, Twi 4 English Ghana Twi 4 Swahili x + + China x Aisha x x 87 Table 1 (cont’d) Intermediate (Magdalena’s class) (cont’d) + Ghana Twi 4 English China Chinese 4 English x Ghana Fante 4 + x Ghana Ga 4 English + x China Chinese 4 Swahili Gladys* x + x Hamisi Happiness* Ivy* Lulu + Swahili, English Intermediate Gavin* x U.S. English 4 English Austria German 4 English China Chinese 4 Swahili Advanced Aisha (see above) Bahati (see above) Emma* Suleiman x ‡ x +Also attended advanced class. * Pseudonym. ‡ Also attended intermediate class. 88 comprehending written and spoken English than speaking it. In our conversations they described how they were often assumed not to speakers of Swahili because they were Chinese. In some encounters with local Tanzanians on and off campus, when they would be called out as Wachina! (Chinese people!), they would respond in Swahili to the surprise of locals. As they told me, these speech events would demonstrate their communicative competence in Swahili, and locals would then remark, ‘Anaweza kuzungumza Swahili’ (he can speak Swahili). When it came to the Swahili-language classes on campus, the focuses on communicative competence between the intermediate and advanced classes were different. In the intermediate class they were being socialized ‘kuboresha matamshi’ (to improve pronunciation), and the advanced class was more concerned with ‘kutoa hotuba, kujadiliana’ (delivering speeches, discussing). South Korean Students. These learners had each come from separate universities in Seoul, South Korea, where they had different academic majors, ranging from English literature to fire engineering. None had ever studied Swahili or traveled to an African country prior to their time in Tanzania. In our interview, Habiba, Lulu, Ndoto, told me that upon arriving at the Dar es Salaam international airport they regarded Tanzania as ‘못 사는 나라 [mos sanueun nala]’ or underdeveloped and ‘rural’, but after getting to know the university campus and some local people, they came to appreciate the country and its people as ‘밝다 [balgda]’, or bright (essentially kind), as well as ‘kind’ and ‘peaceful’. Many Koreans they knew back in Seoul had wondered why they would be studying abroad in Tanzania, because as a country in Africa it was perceived as ‘very dangerous’. Lulu told me that her family was ‘very negative’ about her coming to Tanzania, but she had decided to travel anyway. Ndoto said that many Koreans believe that study of an African language is a ‘waste 89 of time’, and Habiba commented that many Koreans do not know what Swahili is. This was all in the background of their time in Tanzania, where they were engaged in study of English, their primary consideration, as well as Swahili, which, although secondary for them, was also a part of their ‘survival’. In our conversations they also described how they were often perceived by local Tanzanians as Chinese, being called Wachina! on one our my group outings. Sometimes they would try to engage Tanzanians in Swahili, but often they would be viewed as English-speakers and that would hinder their opportunities for Swahili conversation. However, there were phrases they were sure would remain a part of their vocabulary once they returned to Seoul: Pili pili (pepper), inatosha (it’s enough), asante (thank you), haraka haraka haraka (fast fast fast), Austrian Student. As for Emma, the learner from Austria, the study of Swahili was a required component of her home university’s program in African studies. This one-semester period of study abroad in Dar es Salaam was a way of fulfilling program requirements, and provided an opportunity for preliminary field research for her planned thesis. To her, speaking Swahili was ‘more special’ than speaking English, which she had learned beginning in primary school, or any of the other languages she had previously studied, including French and Spanish. This wasn’t her first time in Tanzania either, because she had studied Swahili in Songea two years earlier as part of a university language program. She was one of more than 10 German-speaking students on campus who had come from Austria and Germany. Regarding the use of Swahili outside of the language classroom, Emma noted during our interview that ‘it’s not so easy’, because first-language speakers of the language persisted in approaching her in English. For this reason, she preferred speaking Swahili with Tanzanians who did not speak English, because it took the ‘pressure off’ of having to produce English 90 when she wanted to use Swahili. She was surprised that Tanzanian university students were not engaged as conversation partners or assistants in the teaching of Swahili to L2 speakers, and she viewed this as a missed opportunity. In some ways, the atmosphere of language learning was challenging because, in her view, Tanzanians would approach the teaching of Swahili as though it was it an easy language, and she questioned whether language teaching was being taken seriously on their part. Italian Student. Like other learners, Bahati, had specifically come from Italy to Tanzania to study Swahili. This was her first time in the country, and while in Dar es Salaam she had begun using the chosen name, Bahati, because she liked its positive meaning, which related to being lucky, something she felt described her fortune in coming to Tanzania. Her previous study of the language had been geared toward literary studies and translation, within the scope of African studies. In our conversations she shared that one of her goals in coming was to gain experience in the actual, everyday and animated use of the language. For this reason, she was staying with a host family, rather than on campus for her semester-long study abroad period, and was additionally attending two lecture courses conducted in Swahili at the university, Falsafa ya Kiafrika (African Philosophy) and Isimu (Swahili Linguistics). On one occasion, when the two of us were exiting from the African Philosophy class, she was approached by a female Tanzanian student from the class, who began by greeting her in English. Bahati responded to the greeting in Swahili, going on to say in Swahili that she did not want to speak in English. This resulted in the Tanzanian student continuing on in Swahili for the duration of their brief exchange. As Bahati later told me, refusing to speak English was to her benefit because it provided her with greater opportunities to use Swahili, notwithstanding the fact that English 91 was not her most comfortable language to speak in. So much so was this Bahati’s typical practice, that she became known by students and teachers for consistently speaking in Swahili both in and outside of the Swahili-language class. This was not the norm for most learners, who would typically switch into their first-languages in the time between Swahililanguage class meetings, or use English in other classes on campus (e.g., history, chemistry). As it was the preferred, off-task language for many learners, I became used to engaging some learners through English, and I would have intentionally switch to Swahili to converse with Bahati or the Chinese learners, who also preferred Swahili. American Students. Four of the students from the U.S., Akida, Chausiku, Faki, and Maua, were in the same beginning-level Swahili-language class for learners without prior experience in the language. On the first of that class they were directed by their teacher to choose Swahili names from a list in the textbook, and thereafter, they used these names among themselves outside of class and were referred to by these names in class (see Figure 9 below). In our interview together, Akida and Faki shared that the two of them were good friends, having studied together at the same U.S. university prior to their arrival in Dar es Salaam on the same study abroad program. In choosing to come to Dar es Salaam, Faki told me how he had been ‘looking for an opposite of a metropolis’, somewhere where everyday would bring a new experience different from his life at home. With great excitement, he described how he had randomly and adventurously boarded a bus with Akida to the rural district of Rufiji (in the south of the Tanzania) at the local bus station one weekend, and how they were able to use their Swahili and English to make friends with other passengers. One of these new friends had declared, ‘You are my best friendi from now!’ They talked about how they were sometimes called out as Mzungu (White/non-African foreigners), and how they 92 considered Tanzanians to be generally welcoming, hospitable, and ‘super nice’. Tanzanians were also incredible knowledgeable and wise. As Akida said, ‘People in Africa, they have knowledge about life’. Gavin, an American learner in one of the intermediate Swahili classes, seemed to have an experience in Dar es Salaam very similar to that of Akida and Faki. This study abroad period was helping him to fulfill requirements for an academic major in international studies with a regional focus on Africa. After landing in Dar es Salaam, Gavin found that spending time with other students in the study abroad program was ‘inhibiting’ because it meant that a lot of English would be used, and so he sought opportunities away from campus to ‘speak with someone who doesn’t understand any English’. He considered his Tanzanian university roommate a great resource, because he could speak Swahili half of time with him in a sort of exchange, so that his roommate could practice English as well. Venturing out of his ‘comfort zone’, he made it a goal throughout his stay to ride solo ‘on every daladala line in the city’, and this is how he was able to meet a local Tanzanian male in Buguruni (in the south of the city), and strike up a friendship over the course of a 40-minute conversation in Swahili and English. Meeting this friend was Gavin’s first time ‘feeling like I accomplished something’, and subsequent repeat encounters with this new friend’s family showed ‘immense hospitality’. In Gavin’s view, the Swahili-language class was ‘not a major component of Swahilispeaking on campus’ because there were no spontaneous conversations in class. The class itself was challenging because there was a mix of levels among the students within the same classroom. However, like Akida and Faki, it was the off campus encounters in Swahili that 93 made him feel like he was a Swahili-speaker, and had him feeling like he would seek out opportunities to use the language upon his return to the U.S. When they would be approached by Tanzanians speaking in Swahili, these learners’ tactic would sometimes be to jokingly respond with, ‘Mimi ni Mtanzania. Sijui Kiingereza’ (I’m Tanzanian. I don’t know English), which helped to provide them with more opportunities to use Swahili with locals. Akida and Faki found that these off campus encounters were where they learned Swahili the most, as opposed to the language classroom where they observed that ‘expectations were extremely low’ and tests were ‘too easy’. Akida additionally told me that he was not satisfied with the teaching of Swahili at the university because in ‘the last couple weeks I haven’t learned much Swahili’. Their goal was to ‘be able to sit with a random stranger and understand their narrative conversationally’, and they sought opportunities outside of the classroom to this end. In a brief essay written as a homework assignment for class, Faki writes: ‘Nazungumza na watanzania, naongea Kiswahili, tunacheza soka pamoja, tunasikiliza muziki sawa sawa, na tunakula chakula ile ile. Vitu wameburudisha kidogo kama wamefika, lakini napenda kwa sababu sasa, mimi ni mtanzania pia.’ I speak/converse with Tanzanians, I speak Swahili, we play soccer together, we listen to okay/decent music, and we eat [the] same food. [These] things entertain [a] little like [when] they arrive, but I like [them] because now, I am Tanzanian too. Faki’s full essay is shown in Figure 10 below, with the teacher’s corrections and comments. Near the bottom of the essay, where he has written the words Mtanzania pia, the teacher 94 comments Karibu!,as though congratulating and welcoming the Tanzanian identity Faki asserts. In all, the essay receives feedback in the form of Kazi nzuri!, or Good work!. Two of the female students in the beginning Swahili class, Chausiku and Maua, described their experience a bit differently from Akida, Faki, and Gavin. Coming from different U.S. universities, they had met in Dar es Salaam through their study abroad program. As young women, Chausiku and Maua had noticed how within the Tanzanian setting, men get addressed first, and sometimes this means, as Chausiku commented, that ‘native speakers didn’t pay attention to my Swahili’ and ‘assume I don’t know’ Swahili, or that it is ‘hard to have a conversation with a male without instigating a come on’. The gendering of these learners’ experiences has the effect of limiting their opportunities for using and practice Swahili. They both felt that Akida and Faki received more attention from the teacher in the class due to their being males, and reflecting on situations both in and outside of class, Maua concluded that Tanzanians tend to ‘take the guys more seriously than women’. 95 Figure 9. Maua, a learner in the beginning Swahili class refers to her peers in class by their Swahili names, Faki and Akida. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 1 November 2011. The text of the essay explains, ‘Kabla ya wanafunzi watanzania walirudi chuo ilikuwa kimia. Sasa kila asubuhi mimi husikia muziki mapema sana. Kabla ya wanafunzi walirudi niliishi katika bweni moja na wanafunzi wenzangu wanaume. Faki na Akida walikaa katika chumba kinacho fuatya. Nimekumbuka kukaa karibu nao kwa sababu sisi hufurahia pamoja. Sasa wanakaa bweni la nne inabidi kutembea chumbani kwao’. Before [the] Tanzanian students returned [to] campus it was quiet. Now every morning I [usually] hear music very early. Before [the] students returned I lived in dorm one with my male student colleagues. Faki and Akida stayed in [the] next room. I remembered staying near them because we 96 [were] happy together. Now they stay in dorm four it’s necessary to walk to their room. At the same time, these young women would encounter locals who would insist, somewhat condescendingly, like Maua’s Tanzanian roommate at the university, ‘Oh, you really need to learn Swahili’, or ‘Isn’t it easy to learn Swahili? Why haven’t you learned it yet?’, or ‘you’re in our country, why haven’t you learned Swahili yet?’. This would occur even as many Tanzanian students at the university used encounters with the American students as opportunities to practice their English, as was the case with Chausiku’s roommate. Chausiku and Maua each found their stereotyping as ‘ignorant Mzungus’ equally as frustrating as the jambo (‘Hello’ in a speak reserved for tourists), hakuna matata (don’t worry), and baby, baby phrases local men would call out to them in public. They felt this called attention to their Whiteness; Chausiku shared with me that when she hear Mzungu directed at her, she would think to herself: ‘Yes, I know I’m White’. These repeated gendered and racialized encounters in Dar es Salaam had a disheartening effect on learners’ investments in Swahili. In our interview, Chausiku remarked that ‘it makes me not want to learn the language’, and Maua stated that ‘it makes it not want to try’. Despite all of this, they appreciated their time in Tanzania, and found ways of enjoying their stay. This included learning how to say Usiniguse (don’t touch me), as well as enthusiastically navigating and exploring the city in a group with other female students. Summary. In Appendix B, I list a select number of interview excerpts, which help to illustrate learners’ impressions of language use in Dar es Salaam, both on and off campus. These excerpts are presented in their original languages, with translations. As these interviews and my observations show, there was a sense among learners that learning Swahili 97 was a doorway to an interesting world of fascinating conversations and unique, future opportunities. That being said, the observations of these learners, as well as my own, serve to illustrate the Dar es Salaam university campus as a complex frontier in the use of Swahili, as language learners are regarded as outsiders, and are not expected to know or achieve in the language (though the advanced class is a bit different). At this frontier, learners of Swahili are on the periphery of an English-medium campus in a city where, though Swahili is the typical medium of communication, English holds greater prestige. In their responses to locals’ choices of language, these learners navigate the classroom and its surrounding urban environment, making investments in language learning while identifying with material and imagined communities of Blacks, Whites, Africans, Tanzanians, Women, Swahili-language learners, and Swahili-speakers. 98 Figure 10. Faki’s essay entitled, 'Changes to Campus' in which he describes himself as 'Mtanzania'. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 24 November 2011. 99 As the text of the essay reads, ‘Sasa, wanafunzi watanzania wamefika chuoni kuhusu mwezi moja uliopita. Baadaye wamefika, vitu vimeburudisha kidogo. Kwanza, sasa nahitaji kusuburi kupata chakula katika kafeteria kwa sababu watu wengi wanataka chakula pia. Nikifika miezi miwili na nusu iliopita, sio wanafunzi wamefika bado, kwa hiyo nimeweza kupata chakula harakaharaka. Pili, nimepata na nimakumraha na roommate yangu Anaitwa Pauline, anatoka mwanza, na anasoma microbiolojia. Ana mpenzi anaitwa Grace na anamzungumzia simu kila usiku, usiku yote. Nafikiri ni chizi kidogo. Pia, nimeona mabweni ni shughuli (busy) sana. Wanafunzi wanakwenda kila mahali kusoma, kuzungumza, na kucheza. Bwenini, musiki mnapigwa kila dakika na wanafunzi wenye sauti kubwa. Hamna tatizo lakini. Nimenda hapa kuona maoni tafauti marekani. Napenda kutana na watu wapya, kuona wanaishije, na kuishi hapa chuoni mimi kama mtanzania. Nazungumza na watanzania, naongea Kiswahili, tunacheza soka pamoja, tunasikiliza musiki sawa sawa, na tunakula chakula ile ile. Vitu wameburudisha kidogo kama wamefika, lakini napenda kwa sababu sasa, mimi ni mtanzania pia’. In translation: Now, [the] Tanzanian students have arrived to [campus] around one month ago. After they arrived, things livened a little bit. First, now I need to wait to get food in [the] cafeteria because many people want food too. As I arrived two months and a half ago, [the students hadn’t arrived] yet, therefore I was able to get food very quickly. Second, I’ve had and I’ve made happy my roommate named Pauline, from Mwanza, and [who] studies microbiology. He has [a] girlfriend named Grace and he talks with her [on the] phone every night, all night. I think it’s a little crazy. Also, I’ve seen dorms are very busy (busy). Students go every place to read, converse, and play. In the dorm, music is played every minute by students with big noise. There’s no problem but, I’ve gone here to 100 see [something] different [from] America. I like to meet new people, to see how they live, and to live here [on campus] myself like [a] Tanzanian. I talk with Tanzanians, I speak Swahili, we play soccer together, we listen to [the] very same music, and we eat [the] very same food. Things have livened a bit as they arrived, but I like [it] because now, I am Tanzanian too. Ethnographic Vignette #1: ‘Ukosefu wa vitabu’ On a December day in Dar es Salaam, the advanced Swahili-language class begins with a brief greeting from the teacher (T) in Swahili, who is seated in the rear of the room, in the last of four rows of fixed desk seating (see Figure 11 below for a view of the classroom). Then the student, Emma, already aware of her pre-assigned task to present an article published in Swahili comes to the front of the room to read aloud the short article for the benefit of the students before launching into her response to its main points. The article Emma (E) chose to present came from a local bilingual publication, Fema Magazine, is titled in its English version as ‘Blame the Lack of Books’ by Gaure Mdee. 16 The article discusses the challenges in Tanzanian primary and secondary schools, particularly the preponderance of low standardized test scores, as related to a lack of books and well-stocked libraries in the schools. Ukosefu wa vitabu is a phrase that refers to a lack of books. The proceedings of this vignette provides an example of typical practice in this class, while detailing a key issue discussed on the university campus, the subject of the language of instruction. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 16 The article appeared in both Swahili and English in the October 2011 issue of Fema Magazine, a publication distributed by the Femina Health Information Project (Femina HIP), a primarily Swedish- and Danish-funded NGO that focuses on ‘promoting healthy lifestyles, sexual health, HIV/AIDS prevention, gender equality and civic engagement’ (Femina HIP, 2012). 101 Excerpt 1: 1 T: Habari zenu:? Hamjambo?17 [How are] you all? [How are you all]? 2 S: Habari yako? [How are you?] 3 E: ((standing in front of class)) Nzuri. Asante. [3.0] Sawa, makala Good. Thank you. 4 Okay, yangu: [.] ni: marefu kidogo. Lakini hata hivyo, nita(ya)soma. my article [.] is [a] little long. But however/nevertheless, I will read it. Dar es Salaam, Advanced Swahili class, 19 December 2011, lines 1-4 As the above excerpt shows, the normative practice within this particular classroom was to start using Swahili from the very beginning, and the learners and the teacher are participants in co-constructing this use of the language in their greetings to one another (lines 1-3). It can also be observed that there is little to no observable hesitation on Emma’s part in initiating her role as presenter to the class. This illustrates that students are well accustomed to their role as quasiexperts: in keeping with the examples of previous presentation formats, after reading the article aloud, Emma transitions into asking her fellow learners questions regarding their opinions on the subject. Several students share their views in response to her prompting, drawing on their schooling experiences in their home countries. Then, Emma breaks with the typical discussion format by asking the teacher to lead the discussion, or at least share their view. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 17 See Appendix for transcription conventions. 102 Figure 11. View of advanced Swahili class, with students seated before class starts. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 15 November 2011. This next segment of the class discussion is particularly interesting because the teacher states that in pointing to a lack the books, the article is incorrect. The real issue, in the teacher’s view, is that books, if they are available, are typically in English, which is a language that the primary and secondary schools do not understand well. This linguistic issue is at the root of problem, the reason why, even if provided with books, the students perform poorly on 103 standardized tests. To supplement this argument, the teacher makes an observation about the use of English as a language of instruction at the university. Excerpt 2: 190 E: Lakini, um, siyo lakini. Labda, ((to Teacher)) unaweza kutueleza But, 191 um, it’s not but. Perhaps/Maybe, you can explain to us kidogo, hali ya [.] shule katika hapa Tanzania, shule ya sekondari: [a] little, [the] state of [.] school[ing] here in Tanzania, secondary school 192 hakuna: u:h there’s isn’t u:h 1 193 1 T: Tatizo siyo vitabu tu, ah kama amesema ah, ----. 18 Kuna tatizo la [The] problem isn’t just books, ah as/like she has said ----. There is [the] problem of 194 lugha pia. [Mnaweza kuwa na vitabu, language too. You all [take the issue of] books. 195 E: [Mm: kweli. Mm: true/right. 196 T: kwa mfano katika shule za sekondari, na chuo kikuu, lakini kipo for example in secondary schools, and university, but [the books] are in !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 18 Some identifying information elided from this transcript. 104 197 katika lugha ambayo hawaelewi. [a] language that they don’t understand. 198 E: Mm. 199 T: Hata kama ni vitabu vya kiada ambavyo wanapewa kabisa. Au Even if 200 they’re textbooks which they are totally given. Or T: vinapatikana kwa kununua. Bado wanafunzi wanaweza wakawa [book] that are available for purchase. Still students can they’re 201 wanapata—wanafanya vibaya katika mitihani [.] kwa sababu ya getting—they’re doing poorly on 202 [.] lugha. Kwa mfano katika:: [.] shule za sekondari: mpaka chuo language. For example in 203 tests/exams [.] because of secondary schools until kikuu, masomo yo::te yanafundishwa kwa lugha ya Kiingereza. university, all studies are taught 204 in [the] language of English. ((holds up index finger)) Kasoro somo la Kiswahili. [1.5] Na:: Except [the] subject of Swahili. [1.5] And 205 wanafunzi wengi wana tafiti zinafanyika wanafunzi wana many students have 206 research is being done students have matatizo ya kuelewa lugha ya Kiingereza. Hawafahamu vizuri lugha problems of/with understanding [the] language of English. They don’t understand well [the] language 105 207 ya Kiingereza. Hata darasani kama ume:—una—ume—hata hapa of English. Even in class like you have—you are—you have— even here 208 umeingia kuwa darasa uh, uh, la Kiingereza, unaweza kuta: you have entered that class uh, uh, of English, you can find 209 nusu ya kipindi mwalimu anazungumza Kiswahili. half of [the] time [the] teacher is speaking Swahili. 210 E: Mm. 211 T: Au wanazungumza Kiswahili na Kiingereza na changanya lugha. Or they speak Swahili and English and mix languages. Dar es Salaam, Advanced Swahili class, 19 December 2011, lines 190-211 As this portion of the exchange shows, Emma is successful in getting the teacher to enter the class discussion. And perhaps it is not so difficult to get the teacher to share an opinion, but the ensuing talk illustrates that this is a passionate subject for the teacher. In this class, the teacher’s objective is to leave most of the talking to the students, which is probably why this request for the teacher to speak does not appear until line 190 (above) of the discussion, after several students have been heard. Except for a request of a learner to clarify their viewpoint in lines 173 and 175 (not presented here), the teacher does not figure into the conversation until asked by Emma in line 190. As will be shown with the vignette, this teacher’s method was idiosyncratic among the language faculty, given that this was the only class I observed where the normative practice was typically oriented towards putting students in the role of leading the class for significant portions of class time. Arguably, the advanced-level learners are more capable of 106 participating in extended Swahili talk than beginning and intermediate-level learners. However, a number of the students in the advanced class were also regular attendees in the intermediate class. In this Tanzanian language instructor’s view, the plight of the student in secondary throughout university education is exacerbated by the use of English, a language that neither the student nor their teacher typically understands very well. The instructor notes that even on their university campus where English is mandated as the medium of instruction, its implementation is imperfect, with students and teachers ‘changanya lugha’ (line 211 above) (mixing languages) in order to successfully communicate. In these statements, the instructor is asserting a clear preference for Swahili as a medium of instruction, both by describing the pitfalls of English in Tanzanian education, as well as using Swahili to express this view. This perspective, or language ideology, is detectable in the way the instructor encourages and demands the exclusive use of Swahili in the language classroom. This creates an environment where learners persist in expressing their thoughts in Swahili, without resorting to English, even when this is challenging. A good example of this is in the way Emma asks the teacher a follow-up question regarding the language of instruction or lugha ya kufundishia in Tanzanian education. Excerpt 3: 231 E: Hm. Na una—una unafikiri kwa:mba lugha ya kufundish::shia? Hm. And do you—do you do you think that [the] language of instruction? 232 T: Hm: 233 E: ita—ita: ita [.] itabadilika? it will—it will it will [.] it will change? 107 234 T: U:h wa:—watafiti wamefanya tafiti na wanaona wanafunzi U:h re—researchers have done research and they see [that] students 235 wanaelewa zaidi kwa lugha ya Kiswahili ambayo wanae[lewa. understand more with [the] language of Swahili which they understand. 236 E: [Mmhmm. 237 T: Lakini:, uh watu wanao:panga lugha, uh, kama serikalini, kuna But, uh [the] people who plan language, uh, as in [the] government, there is 238 sehemu inayohusika na mpangalugha, bado hawakubali kutumia [a] section concerned with language planning, still they don’t agree to use 239 Kiswahili,kama lugha ya kufundishia. Swahili as [a/the] language of instruction. Dar es Salaam, Advanced Swahili class, 19 December 2011, lines 231-239 In response to the question from Emma, the teacher submits that any changes to be made to the existing policies will depend upon the judgments of the government’s language planners. However, these same people who plan languages, ‘wanao:panga lugha’ (lines 237 above) appear to be reluctant to follow the recommendations of current research, with this painting a bleak picture within the teacher’s view. As the class continues, Emma remains standing at the front of the room, while the teacher, still seated in the rear, goes on to explain that Swahili does have the capacity to be a language of 108 instruction throughout Tanzania (lines 546-554 below). This is so because the language is continuing to develop, as technologies like Facebook and Google are expanding their use of the language, and as more dictionaries and books are authored in Swahili. Next, Emma acknowledges understanding of the teacher’s remarks with ‘Mmhmm’ in line 555 (below). Then, there is a significantly long pause, during which nothing is said—not by the teacher, not by anyone. This silence seems to indicate to Emma that she should continue directing other learners to participate. In this way Suleiman (Su) and Aisha (Ai) enter the dialogue. Excerpt 4: 546 T: Kila lugha. Inachukua maneno kutoka katika (?) [.] lugha nyingine. Every language. Is taking words [from] 547 other languages. Siyo tatizo. Kuna kamusi za: kompyuta, watu wanaandika:. Hakuna It’s not [a] problem. There are dictionaries [on] computer [terminology], people are writing. There are 548 se—kama utaingia kwenye: Facebook watu wana tafsiri, kama se—if you enter into Facebook people are translating [have translations], if 549 utaingia kwenye Google, watu wana tafsiri. [.] Maneno yapo na you enter into Google, people are translating [have translations]. [.] [The] words are there and 550 inawezekana. Kwa kweli. [.] Inawezekana na watu wameshaanza it’s possible. Actually It’s possible and people have already started 109 551 kuonyesha inawezekana kwa kuandika kamusi, na: vitabu. Yapo to show it’s possible by writing dictionaries, and books. [The words] are there 552 hayajathibitisha kutumika shuleni, kwa sababu bado lugha they haven’t yet been confirmed to be used in schools, because still [the] language 553 haijakubalika kubadilishwa kwenda Kiswahili. Lakini Kiswahili ina— has yet to be agreed to be changed to Swahili. But 554 Swahili it’s inaweza kubadilika. it’s able to change/adapt. 555 E: ((nodding)) Mmhmm. [4.0] ((looking at Suleiman)) Wewe, kwa Mmhmm. 556 You, for mfano [ume:—ume: [.] jifunza Kiingereza kama kipindi au example you’ve—you’ve [.] learned English as [a subject] or 557 T: [((smiles)) 558 E: Kiingereza kilikuwa lugha ya kufundishia? English 559 was [the] language of instruction? Su: Lugha y[a [The] language of 560 E: [Shuleni—shule ya msingi, shule ya sekondari? At school—primary school, secondary school? 110 561 Su: U:h, wakati nilipokuwa shule ya msingi au sekondari, uh, walimu U:h, when I was [at] primary school or secondary [school], uh, 562 wetu, alitufundisha kwa: Kichina. our teachers, s/he taught us using Chinese. 563 E: Kichina. Mmh[mm. Chinese. Mmhmm. 564 Su: [Wakati tunapo u:h, kwenda darasani, yaani wakati When we are u:h, going 565 to class, that is when tunapojifunza Kiingereza, uh, na: walimu wetu, alitufundisha kwa we are learning English, uh, with our teachers, s/he taught us using 565 Kiingereza. English. 567 568 E: Mmhmm. Su: Ndiyo. Yes. 569 Ai: Yaani tunajifunza Kiin[gereza kama kipindi. That is we are learning English as [a subject]. 570 Su: [Ah. 111 571 572 E: Mmhmm. Ai: Siyo lugha la kufundisha. It’s not [the] language of instruction. Dar es Salaam, Advanced Swahili class, 19 December 2011, lines 546-572 The teacher’s smile in line 557 (above) possibly indicates that either by continuing the conversation through asking Suleiman a question, or by asking specifically about how English is taught in China (as a subject or as a language of instruction), that Emma is doing the right thing. Both Suleiman and Aisha’s responses confirm that Chinese is the language of instruction in China, and that English is taught as one of the many subjects within the primary and secondary school curriculum. Throughout the exchange, Emma maintains the position of moderator with ‘Mmhmm’ (lines 563, 567, 571), and the repeat of a key detail from Suleiman comments, ‘Kichina’ (line 563) (Chinese language). In the next stage of the dialogue, the teacher enters, overlapping with Emma’s next ‘Mmhmm’ (line 573 below) to ask Bahati (Bah) about the case of Italy. When Bahati responds with a single word answer, the teacher probes further, scaffolding with a partially formed sentence, ‘Unajifunza kwa:’ (line 576), You learn by, which results in eliciting a more complete statement from Bahati: ‘Tunajifunza kama: kipindi’ (line 577), We learn [English] as [a subject]. Excerpt 5: 573 E: ((nodding)) Mmhm[m. 574 T: [Italia? Italy? 112 575 Bah: ((turns to face Teacher, shakes head, faint)) Ndiyo. Yes. 576 T: Unajifunza kwa: You learn by 577 Bah: Tunajifunza kama: kipindi. We learn 578 [English] as [a subject]. T: Na: lugha ya ku[fundishia? And [the] language of instruction? 579 Bah: [Na: lugha ya kufundishia And [the] language of instruction 580 T: Italiani. Italian. 581 Bah: ((nods)) Mmhmm. Dar es Salaam, Advanced Swahili class, 19 December 2011, lines 573-581 The teacher’s entry into the talk at this stage with questions directed toward students can also be viewed as a strategy for getting more students to participate and be heard, by demonstrating their communicative competence in Swahili. Indeed, the entire speech event of this discussion has been organized such that the onus is largely on Emma (the learner assigned to do that day’s presentation) to use her interactional skills and linguistic knowledge to keep the talk going. When the teacher enters the dialogue it is no guarantee that the teacher will lead the discussion; the teacher’s silence is also an effective means of steering the conversation. For these reasons, Emma remains in her position at the front of the room for the remainder of the interaction. These 113 segments where the teacher asks students questions additionally illustrate how, although Emma is standing at the front of the classroom leading the discussion in some ways, the teacher is fully in control of the talk from a position as emic expert on Swahili language, and on Tanzanian language policy. To this end, the teacher goes on to direct the next question concerning Austria to Emma (line 582 below). After some clarification questions and corresponding responses, the teacher reflects on the situation in Tanzania, drawing a contrast between the English-language policies of these other countries (China, Italy, Austria), saying: ‘Kwa nini Tanzania ni Kiingereza’ (line 591 below), Why is Tanzania English [Why does Tanzania use English]? Excerpt 6: 582 T: Austria? Austria? 583 E: Kijerumani tu. Mpaka—mpaka chuo. Just German. Until— until college. 584 T: Kiingereza ni lugha ya—kama somo. English 585 is [the] language of—as [a] subject. S: Mpaka chuo? Na chuo? Until college? And college? 586 E: Chuo—chuo ni Kijerumani tu. College—colllege is just German. 587 588 Ss: Mm. Mm. T: Ujerumani? Germany? 114 589 E: Lug[ha ya [The] language of 590 591 Ss: [ T: Ujerumani? [.] Kwa nini Tanzania [ni Kiingereza? ((short laugh)) Germany? 592 593 594 Tanzania is English? E: [((laughs)) Mm. Ss: Ah! ((smiles)) ((laughs)) T: Kwa sababu, wanaotua moja za Kiingereza, inaonekana kama Because, 595 Why those who [are in favor] of English, it appears [that] Kiingereza ni lugha ya kimataifa:, Kiingereza ni lugha ya sayansi:, English is [the] international language, English is [the] language of science, 596 ni lugha ya teknolojia:, [.] lakini hao wamesoma kwa Kichina, it’s [the] language of technology, [.] but those [aforementioned] have studied via Chinese, 597 wamesoma kwa Kijerumani:, hao wamesomea kwa Kiitaliano, na they have studied via German, those [aforementioned] have studied via Italian, and 598 [sioni m(u)mekosa nini katika teknolojia, katika maarifa:. [.] Kwa I don’t see what you all have missed in technology, in knowledge/science. [.] 599 Ss: [ ((talking in background between two students, quiet)) 115 600 T: [nini u:h, hapa Kiingereza inaonekana kwamba ndiyo teknolojia, Why u:h, here English 601 602 appears/seems that [it’s indeed] technology, Ss: [ T: [ndiyo maarifa:, ndiyo [.] na Kiswahili hakiwezi kufanya hiyo. Kwa [it’s indeed] knowledge/information, yes [.] and Swahili can’t do that. 603 604 Ss: [ T: [hiyo kuna tatizo la hayo. ((nods)) [.] Siyo suala la e::h la lugha, Therefore there’s [a] problem [with] that. [.] It’s not [an] issue of e::h of language, 605 606 Ss: [ T: kuna tatizo la [.] ((holds hand up on its side)) siasa. there is [a] problem of [.] 607 politics. E: Ndiyo. Yes. 608 T: Siyo la kitaaluma. Ni tatizo la kisiasa. [4.0] It’s not academic. It’s [a] political problem. Dar es Salaam, Advanced Swahili class, 19 December 2011, lines 582-608 Here, the teacher appears to be greatly interested in the topic, and in finding out the situation of language of instruction policy in the various countries represented by learners in the classroom. Throughout the discussion, the teacher has been making a case in support of Swahili as a language of instruction in Tanzania. Upon hearing how English is a taught subject, rather than a language of instruction in China, Italy, and Austria, the teacher interprets this all as corroborating 116 evidence. Why is it that Tanzania persists in using English as a language of instruction when other countries are teaching it as a separate subject? The teacher asserts this position by posing the question in line 591 (above), drawing laughter from learners, who seem to follow the logic of the of the teacher’s argument. An ‘Ah!’ (line 593) and continuing laughter from multiple students likely displays recognition of the contrast in language policy the teacher is calling attention to. The talk segment concludes with the teacher resolving the previously expressed question, which has gone unanswered amid the resulting laughter. The answer? Within the teacher’s view, English remains the language of instruction in Tanzania because it is perceived as the international language, the language of science and technology (lines 594-596). The teacher points to the evidence only recently provided by Suleiman, Aisha, Bahati, and Emma; the Chinese, Italians, and Austrians use their own languages and ‘sioni m(u)mekosa nini katika teknolojia, katika maarifa’ (line 598) (I don’t see what you’ve missed in technology, in knowledge/information). The teacher concludes by stating that the issue in Tanzania is political rather than academic: ‘Siyo la kitaaluma. Ni tatizo la kisiasa’ (line 608). To sum, this ethnographic vignette has provided evidence of a Dar es Salaam university Swahili-language class steered exclusively through the use of the Swahili language. This use of Swahili serves to guide learners into continual use of the language throughout the class period, and encourage the use of interactional skills (asking and responding to questions) within a prescribed framework of learner-initiated discussion. Through the exclusive use of Swahili to express a viewpoint on the language of instruction debate this instructor sets an example for learners, demonstrating the language’s capacity for expressing nuanced arguments, as well as how to accomplish this. 117 That this discussion is taking place in a Swahili-language classroom on an Englishmedium university campus further illustrates the conundrum of the country’s language policy. Within the Swahili-language classroom the students and their teacher, through their persistent use of Swahili are precisely engaged in the promotion of Swahili while existing policies on the campus and throughout Tanzanian education are aimed toward the promotion of English. For example, Habiba and Lulu, two learners not in this advanced Swahili class, but in a beginninglevel class, described in our interview how on one occasion they had been admonished by a chemistry professor at the Dar es Salaam university campus not to speak Korean in his class. Lulu speculated that the teacher said this to them because he did not understand Korean and would be unsure of what they were discussing in the language, and this provides an example of the campus language policy in action. Excerpt 7: 1431 L: We said ‘Korean’? 1432 H: No::, no::. 1433 L: [Uh, uh 1434 H: [English! English! Dar es Salaam, Interview with Habiba, Lulu, & Ndoto, 18 November 2011, lines 1431-1434 Additionally, the subject of the this advanced Swahili class’ discussion, as it touches upon the language of instruction policy at the university, lends further insight into the linguistic landscape of the university as viewed through the perspective of a local Tanzanian, who has 118 themself been trained in the very same English-medium educational system, and now teaches Swahili. In this way, this discussion helps to explain why, on that particular day at the copy center on campus, I was not believed when I stated that I was a competent speaker of Swahili. To a Tanzanian, it perhaps defies logic that someone from outside Tanzania should endeavor to become proficient in a language so narrowly promoted within the country. Indeed, as this Tanzanian instructor’s observations indicate, the prescribed intent of the existing language-ineducation plan in Tanzania is to produce Swahili-English bilinguals in both its teachers and students. Ethnographic Vignette #2: Renting Bicycles in Dar es Salaam I include the following vignette as an example of a rare occurrence of extended teacherstudent interaction in Swahili, and an illustration of how sociohistorical undercurrents germane to postcolonial, urban Tanzania and feature in classroom talk. In the excerpt below from an intermediate Swahili class, the teacher and student are engaged in a face-to-face interaction that the other five students in the class are observing and through their laughter, commenting on. Taking place in November, this twice-weekly intermediate Swahili class is comprised of about six students from the U.S. and South Korea and their Tanzanian instructor. About 50 minutes into the hour-long class period, the class is continuing to concern itself with modes of transportation, usafirishaji, with the teacher discussing travel by train, plane, boat, bus, and bicycle, as I participate with the students in reading aloud short, prepared dialogues from their English-Swahili textbook. On the topic of the bicycle, the teacher posits a hypothetical situation where someone might need to get around the city, but without bus tickets available, or a car or bike at their disposal, they opt instead to rent a bike at an hourly rate, something the teacher 119 describes as a common option in Dar es Salaam. This situation becomes the basis for the teacher’s invitation for learners to perform in Swahili to showing that they can speak fluidly without reading from a textbook page. Gavin, A willing learner joins the impromptu dialogue, offering his actual wristwatch as collateral for the make-believe hourly bike rental to the teacher, who plays mkodishaji (the person who lends), owner of the bike, interested in loaning it out. Excerpt 8: 160 G: Kwa hiyo, nikikupa mdhamini utaamini kwamba ninarudi? Therefore, if I give you collateral you’ll believe that I’m returning? 161 T: Sawa. Basi wanasema, watu wengi wanasema kwamba, ‘Wazungu Okay. Well they say, many people say African foreigners 162 hawaibi’. don’t steal’. 163 G: ((short laugh)) 164 T: Ni kweli? Is it true? 165 G: Ni kweli. It’s true. 166 Ss: ((laughs)) 167 T: Ah, basi: nilipi ((smiling, outstretches hand)). Ah, well [give it to me] 168 Ss: ((laughs)) 120 that, ‘White/Non- 169 G: Sawa. ((takes off watch, hands it to teacher)) Na wewe. Okay. And you. 170 T: ((taking the watch)) Chukua basi. Karibu sana. ((gives watch back)) Well take [it]. [You’re] very welcome. 171 G: Asante. Thank you. 172 T: [Hakuwa . There wasn't 173 Ss: [((laughs)) 174 T: Jamani. Eh? You see, ni—ni rahisi kusema: maneno yako [People/Guys]. Eh? You see, it’s—it’s easy to speak/say your works 175 mwenyewe [.] na:hitaji mwingine. [.] Bwana Gavin, asante sana. Eh? yourself. I need someone else. Mister Gavin, thank you very much. Eh? 176 ((looking around class)) Karibuni. Karibuni. Mimi: ninafanya hii Welcome. Welome. I do/make 177 this biashara. A business. business. Dar es Salaam, intermediate Swahili class, 23 November 2011, lines 160-177 Where this excerpt of talk begins, Gavin and the teacher are immersed within a role-play. In response to Gavin’s question of whether the offering of collateral, will help the mkodishaji (the person who lends) to believe that the bike will be later returned, thereby enabling the rental, 121 the teacher replies ‘Sawa’ (line 161 above), saying okay, or essentially, I agree. The teacher-asbike-owner then adds to this initial confirmatory statement, using the third-person plural (‘wa-’, they) to assert an observation about ‘Wazungu’ (line 161), White/non-African outsiders: ‘Basi wanasema, watu wengi wanasema kwamba, “Wazungu hawaibi”’(lines 161-162), Well they say, many people say that ‘Wazungu don’t steal’. This prompts a short laugh from Gavin, which the teacher follows with a probing question, ‘Ni kweli?’ (line 164), Is it true? Gavin’s response, ‘Ni kweli’, parrots the teacher’s earlier words without rising intonation, amounting to It is true. All this time, the other learners in the class have been observing the exchange, and they follow Gavin’s turn with their laughter. This shows that these other learners, though not directly participating in the role-play, were following and comprehending the talk. Perhaps the previous exchange is humorous because it oddly involves the word Wazungu, a term that did not typically feature within the language classroom, and insinuates that Gavin himself is one of these Wazungu. While some people say that these Wazungu do not steal, still others think they do. Better yet, the situation itself may be the source of humor, as Gavin is put somewhat on the defensive, needing to respond to the teacher’s probe of Is it true? Of course, in that situation Gavin could have chosen to respond differently than he did, to say that it is not true, that Wazungu do steal. And this probably would have resulted in even more laughter, because it would have suggested that Gavin himself is a thief. However, Gavin replies in the affirmative, meaning that Wazungu do not steal. Either way, whether Wazungu do actually steal or not, the teacher’s turn in line 167 seems to serve as a kind of test, as though the teacher (still in the role of the bike owner) wanted to really see if the Mzungu (singular form of Wazungu), the White/non-African foreigner, would really offer any physical collateral to prove his case. The teacher’s outstretched hand likely punctuates the hilarity of the request for collateral, and the 122 class erupts in laughter again. Also laughing myself, I can remember thinking at the time that it seemed like the teacher had initated the request for collateral, and held out their hand, almost as a joke, as though not really expecting that Gavin would offer up his wristwatch in the next moments. Though Gavin does not actually mention his wristwatch as the form of collateral he plans to offer (line 160 above), after the teacher (in the role of bike-owner) outstretches a hand, as though waiting to receive something, Gavin takes takes off his watch and hands it over to the teacher, saying ‘Na wewe’ (line 169) (And you). Extending the comedy, the watch is removed and given away in line 169 to secure the make-believe loan of the bicycle. Next, the teacher accepts the wristwatch in line 170, and the end of the exchange is signaled by the teacher’s return of the wristwatch back to Gavin, and the use of the phrase ‘Chukua basi’ (line 170) (Well take [it]) to break frame (cf. Schick, 2008). Then ‘Karibu sana’ (line 170) ([You’re] very welcome) from the teacher, is followed by Gavin’s of ‘Asante’ (line 171) (Thank you). All throughout this vignette, the teacher directs the interaction, determining in line 167 when the wristwatch should be tendered as collateral, as well as when the role-play is completed in line 170. After the role-play ends in this manner, the teacher makes a comment that qualifies the conversational exchange as having been successful, remarking on how it provides evidence of how easy it is to speak Swahili on one’s own, without reading from the textbook. Says the teacher, ‘Jamani. Eh? You see, ni—ni rahisi kusema maneno yako mwenyewe’ (lines 174-175). The way role-play interaction concludes, with the teacher addressing all of the learners directly in ‘Jamani’ (line 174) (People/Guys), and ‘You see’ (line 174), marks a change in footing (Goffman, 1981) in a manner that echoes the meaning of ‘Jamani’, the Swahili supplied before it. 123 Such repetition and alignment in the use of the two languages features again moments later as the teacher continues, ‘Mimi ninafanya hii biashara. A business’ (lines 176-177). Within this turn, the English reproduces what was said in Swahili; biashara is literally, business. The English business is not incorporated into the Swahili grammatical frame of the initial statement, with the teacher referring to hii business. Instead business enters the conversation through an English-language frame, outlined by the determiner a, rather than the Swahili hii, the typical equivalent of this or the. In this, the teacher’s unsolicited translation of the Swahili (there was no student question as to the meaning of biashara, nor was there any pause given for a question to be asked) may be interpreted as a manifestation of this teacher’s own Swahili-English bilingualism, as well as the teacher’s view of the learners as novice Swahili-speakers. ‘Wazungu’ as index of difference and authenticity. The learner who volunteers to participate in the role-play is a White American male, and this can be gathered from the teacher’s comment on ‘Wazungu’ (line 161 above), which calls attention to the difference the teacher perceives between themself as Tanzanian local, and the learner as White/non-African foreigner. Importantly, the use of the third person (‘wa-’, they) allows the teacher to indirectly comment on the student’s identity, implicitly referring Gavin as one of the Wazungu, because of what they say (line 161). That ‘Wazungu hawaibi’ (lines 161-162) (Wazungu don’t steal), is uttered as reported speech. However, it is not clear whether the teacher is operating within the role of the bikeowner when next asking for verification of this statement on the behavior of Wazungu in line 164—is it true? Ni kweli? In asking the question, the teacher is assigning authority to the learner to comment on the trustworthiness of his fellow Wazungu. That the Swahili term Wazungu is invoked here, brings into relief the sociohistorical relationships of these speakers to the language, and the notion authenticity when it comes to 124 Black and White speakers of the language. A large part of this social history relates to the colonial experience in Tanzania—then called Tanganyika under the British and their German predecessors—and the continued presence of Whites within the country. The notion of Mzungu (White/non-African foreigner), a singular form of the nominal Wazungu, can perhaps be better understood in contrast to Mswahili, a term that can refer to someone of ethnic Swahili descent (most likely a coastal- or island-born, native speaker of the language), or to someone who speaks Swahili with great eloquence and grammatical accuracy. In contrast to the Mswahili, the Mzungu is typically White, a poor speaker of Swahili, and general outsider ignorant of Tanzanian communities. The Mswahili speaks Kiswahili, the Swahili language, while the Mzungu speaks Kizungu, the language of the Other, the English language (which is also referred to as Kiingereza in Standard Swahili). 19 The word Mzungu is effectively a term that both labels the Other, and constructs the Other in discourse. During my time in Tanzania my understanding of the term Mzungu (as explicated above) evolved in response to each situation in which I observed it being used in reference to myself or to someone around me. In some interviews I would be presented with opportunities to ask about the term, and about what it meant to be Tanzanian. My perspective was greatly enriched through these conversations, some of which were with university administrators and instructors at the Dar es Salaam campus. In one such interview with a language program administrator (‘Ad1’ in the extract below), the use of the term Kizungu was explained to me as a manifestation of the !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 19 The English language is referred to as Kiingereza in Standard Swahili, and people from Britain are technically regarded as Waingereza. Referring to the language as Kizungu, or the people as Wazungu, carries an air of informality, and in some cases, pejorative intent. This may be why these words do not appear in Swahili-language textbooks geared toward native English speakers. Another word that could be used to describe Others in the Tanzanian context is wageni, which is regarded as part of the Standard Swahili canon, and refers to foreigners or guests. 125 Tanzanian practice of constructing the Other as non-African, which sometimes included me as an African American. This same vision of the Other within the Tanzanian worldview potentially explains why some learners of Swahili recounted in our interviews numerous experiences of encountering surprise among Tanzanians when they would speak Swahili in the city, surrounding towns, or countryside. Their stories illustrate how their being perceived as Others mediated their ability to publicly perform a Swahili-language identity. In the interview excerpt below with 20 Program Administrator #1 in the Swahili language program , himself a Tanzanian, I bring up some of my own experiences in attempting to speak Swahili on the university campus. Excerpt 9: 1088 J: La—lakini nina swali pia, kwa sababu nimetazama [.] hapa—hapa chuo Bu—but I have [a] question also, because I have observed [.] here—here [at] 1089 kikuu, ni ngumu kidogo kuwa mgeni, anaye [.] sema Kiswahili kwa sababu [the] university, it’s a little difficult to be [a] foreigner, who [.] speaks Swahili because 1090 wengine, kama wanafunzi, others, like students, 1091 Ad1: Uh huh? 1092 J: wana [.] wananiona na wanasema—or wana:—wanashangaa they they see me and they say—or they—they are surprised 1093 Ad1: Eh heh. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 20 There appeared to be several administrators in the Swahili-language program at the university, all male, each with different leadership roles (e.g., oversight, proficiency testing). This enables me to refer to the administrator here as ‘he’ without revealing their identity. 126 1094 J: au hawataraj(e)i [.] or they don’t expect 1095 Ad1: Hawataraji kwamba wewe utazungumza Kiswahili. They don’t expect that you will speak 1096 Swahili. J: Ndiyo. Yes. 1097 Ad1: U:h, ni sawa. Kwa sababu ya—unajua we umekaa hapa, unajua history U:h, it’s okay. Because of—you know you have lived here, you know [the] history. 1098 J: Mmhmm. 1099 Ad1: kwamba kwanza, wengine wanashangaa, wengine wanafurahia, wengine that 1100 first, others are elated, others wanasema, ‘Ah, ulijifunza Kiswahili’ namna hiyo. Eh, kwa hiyo [3.0]. say, 1101 others are surprised, ‘Ah, you learned Swahili’ [in] that way. Eh, therefore J: Na pia, kuna watu wan—ambao hawataki kuzungumza Kiswahili na And also, there are people they—who don’t want to speak Swahili with 1102 wageni. foreigners. 127 1103 Ad1: Kwa sababu ya kasumba21. Because of [colonial influence]. (Dar es Salaam, Interview with Program Administrator #1, 22 November 2011 lines 1088-1103) In this portion of the interview with Program Administrator #1 in Dar es Salaam, I asked about something I had experienced at the university, having been approached in English by several local students. At the time, I suspected that this might relate to these students’ view of me as an outsider, and a probable non-speaker of Swahili. This is an observation that the program administrator animates in line 1095 (Goffman, 1981), using my word Hawataraji (They don’t expect) to complete what he anticipates is my intended thought, that local people do not expect that I would speak Swahili, ‘Hawatarajii kwamba wewe utazungumza Kiswahili’ (line 1095 above). And when I continue to share my observations, based on experiences I had on and off campus, of locals who appear to not want to speak Swahili with me, the administrator does not disagree, going on to relate these occurences with local as deriving from ‘kasumba’ (line 1103 above), colonial influence. He then goes on to say that there is something more than kasumba at play, that when local people locate outsiders they see them as an opportunity to practice their English, and ‘kubrush up’ (line 1115 below), to brush up on their English. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 21 A literal translation of kasumba would be opium. As I have been told, after Tanzanian independence, behavior that seems to reflect the mentality of colonial subjects is referred to by Tanzanians as kasumba ya kikoloni or colonial hangover. Kasumba may also refer to brainwashing. In the context of the interview above, it refers to embracing of the language and attitude of former colonial masters. 128 Excerpt 10: 1104 1105 J: Ah ((laug[hs)) Ad1: [Kwa sababu. Kuna—kuna vitu viwili kwa hakika. Kwa kweli siyo Because. 1106 There are—there are two things for sure. Actually it’s not kasumba tu. Just [colonial influence]. 1107 1108 J: Uh huh. Ad1: In that regard, no no no no. U:h, wakati mwingine, mtu anafikiria e::h, U:h, [at] another time, [the] person is considering e::h, 1109 anataka pia kufanya mazoezi ya Kiingereza. Eh? Ana—ana—anadhani s/he wants also to practice 1110 English. Eh? S/he—s/he—s/he believes kwamba hiyo ndiyo sehemu, [.] that’s a gold—ah— ah—ah—ah a that 1111 that is indeed part/something, [.] golden chance ya—ya yeye kuzungumz[a of/for—of/for her/him to speak 1112 J: [Kutumia// To use 1113 Ad1: //Kutumia To use 1114 J: Kiingereza. English. 129 1115 Ad1: Uh, kubrush up, kama ni mimi [ Uh, to brush up, like [if] it’s me Dar es Salaam, Interview with Program Administrator #1, 22 November 2011 lines 1104-1115 As the program administrator puts it, outsiders are seen as a ‘golden chance’ (line 1111 above) for those who want to practice speaking English. This statement communicates two key descriptives of Dar es Salaam linguistic ecology: (1) that all outsiders are generally regarded as English-speakers, and (2) that the use of English reflects a great deal of linguistic capital a language that confers elite, educated status and enables communication with the outside world (Bourdieu, 2006 [1986]). In fact, it appeared to me that the language policies of the university reinforced this hierarchy by strengthening an English-Swahili dichotomy. Officially, English is the medium of instruction in all university classrooms, the language of all research theses, and official teacher-student communication. The only exceptions to this rule are the language and content courses in Swahili offered at the university, for the purposes of teaching the language, its literature and linguistics. Research theses in Swahili degree programs can be submitted in Swahili as well. In this manner, the teaching of Swahili and through Swahili is somewhat of an isolated anomaly on the campus, even though students can be heard speaking with each other outside of class in Swahili, same as their professors, and Swahili is preferred (and often vital) for communication with university staff in the cafes, bookstore, and full-service copy facility. On campus, there are some professors from outside Tanzania, from as far away as France and the Netherlands, in some cases, but there are far more students from abroad than professors, representing a number of countries, and ranges of ability in the English language: none to some, to receptively bilingual, to productively fluent. As my conversation with Program Administrator 130 #1 continued, I learned more from his perspective on the use of the term Mzungu in Dar es Salaam. Excerpt 11: 1115 Ad1: Uh, kubrush up, kama ni mimi [ Uh, to brush up, like [if] it’s me 1116 J: [Lakini labda natokea: [.] nchi ya Kifaransa: But perhaps I’m [coming] from [.] a Frenchspeaking country 1117 Ad1: Ni kweli kabisa. Ni kweli kabisa. Kwanza, ukiangalia kamusi, ya zamani, It’s completely true. It’s completely true. First, if you look at [a] dictionary, of the past, 1118 ya mwaka thelathini na tano, Ulaya ilikuwa ni outside of Africa. Kila kitu of [the] year [19]35, 1119 Everything kilikuwa Ulaya. Marekani, China—Ulaya. Kwa hiyo watu wanadhani was 1120 Europe was Europe. America, Europe. Therefore people believe kwamba M—mzungu. Unaona? Na ndiyo maana, [.] that[’s] W—White/non-African foreigner. You see? And [it] indeed means, 1121 J: Kwa ujumla.// In general. 1122 Ad1: //kwa ujumla, na ndiyo maana, eh? Watu wote wanaitwa Wazungu. Sawa? in general, and [it] indeed means, eh? All people are called White/non-African outsiders. Okay? 131 1123 Ambao wao siyo Waafrika. Halafu anakizungumza lugha, anasema Those who are not Africans. Then s/he speaks [a] language, s/he speaks 1124 Kizungu. Hii Kizungu siyo Kiingereza. Mjerumani akija hapa, Non-African language. This Non-African language is not English. If [a] German comes here, 1125 anakuwambia, anazungumza Kizungu, akizungumz—anazungumza s/he tells you, s/he speaks Non-African language, s/he speaks—s/he speaks 1126 Kizungu Kiingereza. Kwa hivyo watu wanadhani kwamba, Kizungu Non-African language English. Therefore people believe that, Non-African language 1127 maanake ni Kiingereza. Kwa hivyo Mjerumani a:—akija hapa, means 1128 English. Therefore if [a] German comes here, kwa sababu ni Mzungu atazungumza Kizungu. Mchina akija hapa, because s/he is [a] White/non-African foreigner s/he will speak Non-African language. If [a] Chinese person comes here, 1129 a:—a:—anazungumza Kizungu pia. Siyo Kichina. Sasa hivi ndiyo s/he speaks Non-African language too. It’s not Chinese language. Now in this way yes 1130 tunaweza kujua Wachina wamekuwa wengi . Hata mtu wa Ufaransa. we can know [that] many Chinese people have come . Even [a] person of France. 132 1131 ‘Anasema Kizungu!’ Huyo ni Mfaransa. Siyo Kizungu siyo Kiingereza. ‘He speaks Non-African language!’ That person is French. It’s not Non-African language it’s not English. 1132 Sasa hii kuna hiyo confusion. Kwa hiyo ni lazima ukija uelewe kwamba, Now there’s confusion there. Therefore it’s necessary if you come [to Tanzania] you understand that, 1133 ndiyo maana ni vizuri e:h, kujua what to expect, [.] u:—utarajia nini, indeed [it] means it’s best e:h, to know what to expect, [.] what you should expect, 1134 unapoenda huku. Kuna watu ambao ni washamba. You know, hawajui? when you go here. There are people who are hicks. You know, they don’t know? Dar es Salaam, Interview with Program Administrator #1, 22 November 2011, lines 1115-1134 As it is described here, the use of the term Mzungu relates to the Tanzanian construction of the Other, which at the same time connects to a view of the world outside Africa, ‘Ulaya’ (line 1118 above). According to the program administrator, the word Ulaya, now regarded in Standard Swahili as a referent to Europe, was defined early on in the 1930s as ‘outside of Africa’ (line 1118), which additionally included the U.S. and China, among other countries. Within this perspective, the framing of Mzungu as a category that identifies all outsiders to Tanzania is 22 nothing new. Rather, it is a term that encodes the social history of Tanzanian experience with non-Africans, with Whites, and reflects the emergence of a Tanzanian identity constructed in !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 22 Though the term Mzungu can also be encountered in Kenya, this interview conversation pertains specifically to its use in Tanzania. 133 difference to non-African identities. With regards to this dichotomy of identities, it was said that it generally signifies that everyone not perceived to be African is regarded as Wazungu, a speaker of Kizungu, regardless of what language other than English (e.g., German or Chinese) they may be speaking. Perhaps it is a reflection of the great influence of English both during the colonial period and now as part of globalizing forces, that all outsider-speak is regarded within the Tanzanian worldview as Kizungu (language of the White/non-African foreigner, or foreign language), which is essentially Kiingereza, or English. No other languages are differentiated within this worldview. Rather, German or Chinese (as discussed above) are rendered invisible by the Swahili-English, Tanzanian-outsider, dichotomy, particularly by ‘washamba’ (line 1134 above) or hicks, uneducated Tanzanians. In this statement the program administrator is asserting his own class identity as an educated Tanzanian in contact with numerous foreigners on a regular basis, unlike his counterparts. ‘Wazungu’ as an index of Tanzanian in-group identity. Getting back to the role-play during the intermediate-level Swahili class I observed, one of about seven different language courses I participated in and observed during my time in Dar es Salaam, the language instructor’s use of Wazungu can be interpreted as potentially marking a perceived difference in identity. But what is Tanzanian identity? Who is a Tanzanian? And how do Tanzanians represent themselves in discourse? One way appears to be through the labeling of someone else as Mzungu, the Other, and the categorization of the Other’s language as Kizungu. Tanzanian identity also emerges in the negotiation of language. In the classroom and interview talk above, each of the different Tanzanian interlocutors in the interactions, both in the role-play and in the interview, use Swahili with English to communicate their meaning. Their use of the two languages together effects a representation of an educated individual within Tanzanian society, possibly someone who has 134 travelled outside of Tanzania. More specifically, their intersentential codeswitching in the delivery of English phrases like ‘You see’ (line 144 above) and ‘in that regard’ (line 1108 above) displays an intimate, fluent facility in English (this is atypical of Tanzanians who are not speakers of English). The intraword codeswitch, ‘kubrush up’ (line 1115 above) also displays a familiarity with phrasal verbs in English, and additionally demonstrates the speaker’s willingness to join Swahili and English elements in improvised arrangements within a Swahili grammatical frame. In this particular case, the location of the Swahili infinitival ‘ku-’ within its typical position on the front of an infinitive provides evidence of Swahili as the Matrix Language (cf. Myers-Scotton, 1995). The vignette above also shows how it was the educated, bilingual Tanzanian speaker who was first, and largely the only interlocutor, to incorporate English into an interaction initiated in Swahili. The non-Tanzanian speaker utilized Swahili throughout the entirety of the interaction (excepting my use of ‘or’ in line 1092 above). Importantly, this demonstrates how an interaction in Dar es Salaam between a local urbanite and someone perceived to be an English-speaker could license the use of English by the Tanzania interlocutor. It could also be case in these interactions that because these Tanzanian speakers are already be normative bilinguals, the use of English surfaces spontaneously in their general speech. However, this highlights a crucial aspect of the linguistic market in Dar es Salaam, where the display of English and Swahili individually, or in combination, encodes distinct forms of cultural capital: (1) Tanzanians who comfortably speak both English and Swahili are considered well-educated; (2) Tanzanians who speak only Swahili are likely not well-educated, (2) outsiders who are perceived as non-speakers of Swahili are considered Wazungu ignorant to Tanzanian experience, and likely English-speakers; (3) 135 outsiders who are observed speaking Swahili are an unexpected contradiction, and often Tanzanians will attempt to use English with them, if they are familiar with the language. Other conversations with Tanzanians at the university and in the city helped me to toward these understandings of the Tanzanian worldview, and a more intricate awareness of my own positioning within it, and within the fieldwork for this study. In the nearly 40 minutes I spent in transit to the U.S. Embassy on November 10, sitting in the backseat of a bajaji, a three-wheeled, open-air motor taxi used to ferry paying passengers along the sides of paved and unpaved roads throughout Dar es Salaam, an initial greeting in Swahili led to an unforgettable conversation. I remember that after some negotiation of the price, and a discussion of where we would be headed in the city, I hopped up into the bajaji, and we took off. As the warm air whipped around the motor taxi, and the sun streamed down, with us driving into early afternoon traffic, the driver, a middle-aged man, asked me if I was married (a common feature of my introductory pleasantries with local men), and where I was from. Then, I think because our starting point was near to the university, he began to share some of his views, unsolicited, on why being around university students made him uncomfortable. Using Swahili, he told me how these were people who tended to use English in their conversations to show that they were associated with the university, to show their status. This made him feel bad and embarrassed, sometimes, he told me, because he had been unable to finish secondary school, and could not really understand English. He felt excluded from English-language exchanges, and he thought this was a problem, saying that there were a lot of people like him who were not English-speakers. During his comments, I mostly listened, leaning forward to hear him over the low rumbling of the motor engine and the din of the surrounding traffic. I remember asking him a couple of questions in Swahili, being consciously consistent with his continued use of Swahili, and by the time I had reached my 136 destination, I felt like I had just had a coveted interaction with a sage. In just a short while, I had learned so much from this man about the language ecology of Dar es Salaam, as he saw it, and I continued to think about our exchange throughout the remainder of that day, and the tenure of my time in Tanzania. It seemed to me that he was correct, that language use was a mark of class distinctions in the country. ‘Wazungu’ as language ideology and race-based construct. In a different, planned interview with a university language teaching assistant, another local Tanzanian urbanite, I was able to continue exploring these relationships between identity and language choice both as related to classroom language learning. This interview actually occurred in September, before my exchange with the bajaji driver, but after each of these opportunities to talk with native speakers of Swahili, I would reevaluate my previous observations and experiences. Thinking back to this earlier interview, I realized that what was being shared with me by this teaching assistant on how the use of Swahili was integral to the Tanzanian definition of self, could be related to the bajaji driver’s account of his own feelings of alienation in situations involving English, and the language program administrator’s comments on a Tanzanian’s impetus for speaking English with Wazungu outsiders (which I recorded towards the end of November that same year). Some 30 minutes into our 2-hour interview, I started to share with the language teaching assistant some of my observations of how local Tanzanians would use both Swahili and English together in their conversations in the classroom or in the street, and I asked her what she thought of this type of language use. Like with the interview with the program administrator, conversation began in Swahili. Her response to my question was that English figured into the 137 speech of Tanzanians when they perceived their interlocutor to be unable to comprehend Swahili: Yaani za kwa nini Watanzania wana—wanapenda kuzungumza [.] wanachanganya hizi lugha. Wana—kwa mfano unakuta wanatumia Kiswahili na Kiingereza, kama wakifahamu kwamba wewe siyo Mtanzania. Kwamba wewe hujui Kiswahili. (Interview with Language Teaching Assistant #3, 29 September 2011, lines 909-912). That is about why Tanzanians like—like to speak [.] they mix these languages. They—for example you find they are using Swahili and English, as they are understanding that you are not [a] Tanzanian. That you don’t know Swahili. Within the Swahili-language teaching assistant’s (TA3) perspective, switches between languages are only undertaken to enhance communication, and for the additional reason that Tanzanians are interested in practicing their English. Specifically referring to me as an example, the teaching assistant explained how even though I came already knowing Swahili, I was seen as a nonTanzanian, and an English-language opportunity. If I wanted such exchanges to proceed in Swahili, I would need to explicitly let it be known that I didn’t want to speak English. Excerpt 12: 914 TA3: Au wewe unajua—unajua Kiswahili. Unaweza kuongea kama Or you know—you know Swahili. 915 wewe hivyo, unaweza kuongea Kiswahili. Lakini wakishajua you 916 You can speak/talk like that way, you can speak/talk Swahili. But if they already know kwamba wewe ni Mmarekani kwa mfano, watataka nao that you are American for example, they’ll want 138 917 wazungumze Kiingereza. [.] [that they should] speak/converse [in] English. 918 J: [Kwa nini? Why? 919 TA3: [Kwa sababu wanataka na wao wajue Kiingereza. ((laughs)) Because 920 they themselves want [that they should] know English. J: Ndiyo? Yes/Yeah? 921 TA3: Kwa hiyo wanataka na wao wajifunze Kiingereza. Kwa hiyo Therefore they themselves want [that they should] learn English. Therefore 922 inatakiwa wewe kama ni wewe umwambie, “Hapana mimi sitaki it’s required [that] you as//like you [should] say, “No I don’t want 923 23 kuzu [.] ” kama ---- . to spea [.] “ like ----. Dar es Salaam, Interview with Teaching Assistant #3, 29 September 2011, lines 914-923 As the teaching assistant put it, the reason why the Tanzanians would use English in an interaction with me would be because they would already know that I was an American, ‘wakishajua kwamba wewe ni Mmarekani’ (lines 915-916 above) and they want that they should know or learn English, ‘wanataka na wao wajue Kiingereza’ (line 919) and ‘wanataka na wao !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 23 Identifying information elided from this statement. 139 wajifunze Kiingereza’ (line 921). This might help to explain why some learners found it challenging to locate opportunities for extended Swahili interactions with locals, who may have been more interested in trying out their own English than in speaking Swahili with a likely L2 speaker (see, for example Trentman, 2012, for more discussion on the challenges in study abroad in Cairo, Egypt). In order to avoid being asked to speak English, many learners would seek out Tanzanians who were not speakers of English, and or pretend not to know English, or state that they did not want to speak in English, in ways very similar to what the teacher assistant described in our interview (lines 921-922). According to the teacher assistant, in these situations involving Tanzanians and foreigners, English would have been employed to the communicative benefit of the L2 speaker of Swahili, because many Tanzanians feel like Swahili is unknown outside of Tanzania or East Africa: ‘Wanafikiri kwamba Kiswahili kwanza labda hakijulikani […] Wana—yaani wanadhani Kiswahili kinajulikana tu Afrika Mashariki au hasa hasa Tanzania’ (lines 972, 974-975). In these remarks Swahili is positioned as a local language relative to English, which is positioned as global. Not only is Swahili considered largely unknown outside of Tanzanian environs, but people who are unable to speak it are regarded as natural speakers of English by Tanzanians outside of the university setting. This appears to be what the teaching assistant is saying when it is later commented how university instructors (like themself) are familiar with wageni (foreigners) who come to Tanzania with knowledge of Swahili, or who learn it through courses they take at the university, as opposed to Tanzanians who are away from the university in various districts, and so have limited knowledge of and experience with L2 speakers of Swahili. 140 This presents another example of an educated Tanzanian urbanite distinguishing theirself from other non-educated, rural Tanzanians. Tunaojua kwamba kuna wageni wanajua Kiswahili ni sisi ambao tunafundisha kwa mfano hapa chuo kikuu kwa sababu tunafundisha wageni kutoka (?) [.] nchi mbalimbali, na wanakuja wengine wamejifunza kulekule wanajua vizuri kabisa Kiswahili. Lakini kwa mtu ambaye hayuko labda chuo kikuu au hayuko kwenye wizara mbalimbali zile anahisi kwamba wageni wote hawajui Kiswahili. Wanajua tu Kiingereza. (Dar es Salaam, Interview with Language Teaching Assistant #3, 29 September 2011, lines 978-984). We are those who know that there are foreigners [that] know Swahili it is us who teach for example here [at the] university because we teach foreigners from (?) [.] various countries, and others they come having learned over there [in their countries] they know very well completely Swahili. But for a person who is not perhaps [at the] university or is not here [because they’re located] in various distant districts s/he feels that all foreigners don’t know Swahili. They [the foreigners] only know English. From these comments, during the interview I was beginning to get a sense of how language marks boundaries in ontology and epistemology within Tanzanian society. Within the teaching assistant’s perspective, people less connected to the university, and therefore probably less familiar with English, are more likely to regard foreigners as speakers of English, unable to comprehend Swahili. At the same time that language impacts a person’s way of being, in terms of their linguistic interactions, language ideology, and priorities in language learning, it also has bearing on their understanding of the world around them, and the extent to which the use of 141 language demarcates the end of selfhood and the beginning of Otherness. I began in this interview using the word mgeni (foreigner) to refer to myself and other L2 speakers of Swahili, and only became concerned with the term Mzungu after the teaching assistant used it herself in describing the surprise that might overcome a Tanzanian upon unexpectedly witnessing the use of Swahili by one of her language students in the local outdoor market: Excerpt 13: 988 TA3: Kiingereza ((laughs)). Kwani watu hawajui, English. 989 990 [It’s] why people they don’t know, J: Uh huh? TA3: hawajui kwamba wageni wapo ambao wanajua Kiswahili. Na ndiyo they don’t know that foreigners are here who know Swahili. And 991 maana, akienda kwa mfano wanafunzi wangu wakiwa Mwenge it means, if s/he for example my students 992 wakizungumza Kiswahili, ‘Ni shilingi ngapi?’ Wanashangaa speaking 993 995 Swahili, ‘How many shillings is [it]?’ They’re surprised wanasema, ‘Ha! Unajua Kiswahili!’ ((laughs)) they say, 994 [when] they’re in Mwenge ‘Ha! You know Swahili!’ J: Mmhmm. TA3: ‘Mzungu anajua Kiswahili!’ Yaani wanashangaa lakini ila kwa hapa ‘Mzungu knows Swahili!’ That is they’re surprised but except here 142 996 chuo kikuu hakuna ajabu kwa sababu hapa watu wengi wanajua [at the] university there’s no surprise/amazement because here many people 997 kabisa wageni wengi wanakuja, wanasoma Kiswahili, na totally know many foreigners come, study Swahili, 998 and wanawe—wanaweza Kiswahili, wanazungumza vizuri [.] the ca— they [are] able [in] Swahili, they speak/converse very well [.] Dar es Salaam, Interview with Teaching Assistant #3, 29 September 2011, lines 988-998 In the scenario sketched here, the term ‘Mzungu’ (line 995 above) is used to identify the unanticipated speaker of Swahili, the foreign student at the university, identified as one of ‘wageni’ (line 990) or foreigners, and ‘wanafunzi wangu’ (line 991), my students. It can also be noted here that within this posited scenario the L2 speaker of Swahili need only say a phrase as short as three words—‘Ni shilingi ngapi?’ (line 992), How much is it?—to cause so much excitement and surprise. That someone would say ‘Mzungu anajua Kiswahili!’ (line 995), Mzungu knows Swahili, after hearing as few as three Swahili words come out of the mouth of the Mzungu is, according to the teaching assistant, because they are situated outside the university where they are unacquainted with foreigners who come to study Swahili, and have strong ability in the language. Even after getting this explanation in this interview, and considering the many surprised responses of some Tanzanians to my speaking Swahili, which would occur frequently, akin to how the teaching assistant described, it was hard not to think of these responses as some kind of derision. Could someone meeting me for the first time really take three Swahili words 143 strung together as evidence that I knew Swahili? And were they truly surprised that I was speaking Swahili? Is this why when I speak Swahili to locals I often get replied to in English? I continue to contemplate this, and I have realized that the deep skepticism in Swahili’s global reach beyond Tanzania is real, and very much related to the sense of Tanzanian selfhood and ownership of the language. Altogether, this coalesces into a tricky situation for the negotiation of social identity and language use for both language learners in Dar es Salaam and their prospective interlocutors. How does one improve their Swahili when they encounter unwillingness among others to engage in the language? Do Tanzanians even like it when learners or foreigners speak Swahili? This last question, I actually improvised during the interview, wording it as: ‘Na, Watanzania wanapenda wanapopata wanafunzi au wageni wanaosema Kiswahili vizuri?’ The response to which was, ‘Wanapenda sana, sana, sana’, that Tanzanians like it very, very, very much when students or foreigners speak well in Swahili. In fact, the teaching assistant went on to explain that this was because it indicated the learner to be someone who has a high regard for Tanzanians and for African people. Yaani kwa sababu sisi, ukijifunza Kiswahili tunahisi unatupenda hata sisi. Na ndiyo maana unasoma lugha yetu. Kama huwapendi Watanzania huwezi ukajifunza Kiswahili. Unapend—unajifunza ili uzungumza au uwasiliane na Wa—Watanzania au Waafrika. Kwa hiyo kama ni Mzungu tunahisi huyu Mzungu anapenda sana Waafrika au anai— yeah anaipenda Afrika, anapenda Kiswahili. Kwa hiyo anatupenda sisi. Dar es Salaam, Interview with Language Teaching Assistant #3, 29 September 29, 2011, lines 1003-1010 144 That is to say because we, if you learn Swahili we feel you like us, too. And indeed [this] means you are studying our language. If you didn’t like Tanzanians you couldn’t learn Swahili. You like—you learn so that you speak to or communicate with Ta—Tanzanians or Africans. Therefore if it is [an] Mzungu we feel this Mzungu really likes Africans or s/he—yeah, likes Africa, likes Swahili. Therefore s/he likes us. Importantly, these remarks further illustrate the cleft in identity in within the Tanzanian worldview: us and them, we and the Other, Watanzania and Wazungu. The Swahili language is ‘lugha yetu’, our language. In spite of learners’ interest in and high regard for Tanzanian and African people, as indicated by their learning of Swahili, it is indicated they will continue to be viewed as outsiders, even after their enthusiasm for the language becomes known. This conceptualization of the language learner-as-outsider surfaces here, as it does in the program administrator’s remarks, in a manner that illustrates identity to be constructed around a linguistic reality, and sense of ownership or authenticity in natively spoken language. Could the Mzungulearner-speaker ever become an authentic speaker of Swahili? Ultimately, the true Mzungu is a White person who comes from Europe. And nowadays, the U.S. is indistinguishable from Europe, so an Mzungu could also be a White American. Skin color factors important into the definition, because a person with my skin color is not technically an Mzungu in her view. These are key details because when I later inquire further as to what motivates this definition of the Other, I learn that Mzungu can also be defined along the lines of language use, and of cultural behaviors, where Tanzanians also see themselves as different from Others. 145 Excerpt 14: 1026 J: Ni nini ‘Mzungu’? What is ‘Mzungu’? 1027 TA3: Oh ((laughs)) ‘Mzungu’ mara nyingi Oh 1028 1029 J: Uh huh. TA3: ilikuwa inatumika sana kwa watu wa Ulaya. it was 1030 1031 ‘Mzungu’ many times/often used a lot for people of/from Europe. J: Okay. TA3: Kwa watu wa Ulaya. Lakini na ndiyo maana kuna Wamarekani For people of/from Europe. But and [it] indeed means there are Americans 1032 ukiwaita Wazungu wanasema, ‘Hapana, mimi siyo Mzungu.’ if you call them Wazungu they say, ‘No, I’m not Mzungu.’ 1033 1034 J: Mmhmm. TA3: Yeye [.] ni wale watu wa—weupe wale wa kutoka Ulaya. Lakini S/he 1035 kwa sababu Ulaya na Marekani wanafanana na huwezi because 1036 it’s those people tho—those Whites from Europe. But Europe and America they are alike and you can’t ukawatofautisha. Ndiyo maana tunawaita Wazungu. distinguish them. [It] indeed means we call them Wazungu. 146 1037 1038 J: Mmhmm. TA3: Kwamba hata Wamarekani nao ni Wazungu. Lakini Wamarekani That 1039 even Americans are themselves Wazungu. But Americans weusi kama, sisi. Black like, us. Dar es Salaam, Interview with Teaching Assistant #3, 29 September 2011, lines 1026-1040 The depiction here of the Other as ‘watu weupe’ (line 1034 above), White people, illustrates how Mzungu is a race-based construct. The distinction made between ‘Wazungu’ (line 1038) and ‘Wamarekani weusi kama, sisi’ (lines 1038-1039), or Americans [that are] Black like, us, further shows how race figures into the Tanzanian worldview as the sum of its two subconstructs of color, White and Black. However, the Americans possessing Black skin color are also seen as Wazungu in spite of their color. The earlier entrance of ‘Waafrika’ (line 1007) (Africans) into the conversation, parallel to term ‘Watanzania’ (line 1007) (Tanzanians) within the discussion of how L2 speakers of Swahili are viewed by Tanzanians, suggests an alignment of Tanzanian identity within the larger collective of African identity. Asked whether an African and a Tanzanian were one in the same, the teaching assistant pointed to skin color as the unifying factor in these intersecting identities: ‘Mwafrika, yaani kwa maana iliyopo tu kwa Watanzania wengi ninasema tu katika kwa maana ya—ya jumla kwamba huyu ni Mwafrika tunaangalia zaidi rangi’ (African, that is [the] meaning here [is that] many Tanzanians I’m just saying in [terms] of—of generally that this person is African we look more at color). In other words, in a general Tanzanian way of speaking, referring to someone as Mwaafrika (African) amounts to making an observation on her or his 147 skin color. Though this statement appeared to refer to a generally Black skin color, it is curious that the when asked as to what particular rangi (color) was being included in the definition of an African, no specific color—Black or Brown—was singled out, but that color was defined as the skin color one would observe of Ghanaians, Rwandans, and Tanzanians; a color that distinguished them from Arabs and Asians. Excerpt 15: 1115 J: Rangi gani? Which color? 1116 TA3: Rangi kama yangu, rangi kama yako. Color like mine, color like yours. 1117 J: Kahawia kali? ((lau[ghs)) Dark brown? 1118 TA3: [((laughs)) Sijui rangi gani ((laughs)). Hilo ni I don’t know which color. That is 1119 swali gumu. Lakini, rangi ambayo unaweza uka—ukienda Uganda [a] tough/difficult question. But, [a] color that you can you—if you go [to] Uganda 1120 utakuta watu wana rangi hiyo ukienda Tanzania hapa, ukienda you will find people with/having that color if you go here [to] Tanzania, if you go [to] 148 1121 Rwanda, ukienda Ghana. Kuna rangi ambayo unajua kabisa hii ni Rwanda, if you go [to] Ghana. There’s [a] color that you totally know this is 1122 rangi ya Afrika. [the] color of Africa/African color. 1123 1124 J: Mmhmm. TA3: Lakini sasa unaposema ‘Afrika’ maanake kuna Libya ambao ni But now when you say ‘Afrika’ [it] means there are Libyans who are 1125 Waarabu kuna i—Misri ni ni—Waarabu wengi ni Waarabu. Lakini Arabs there are i—Egyptians they’re—they’re many Arabs are Arabs. But 1126 kwa ukifuata ile jiografia ya—ya—na-ni (?) ya Afrika unasema if you follow that geography of—of—what’s it (?) of Africa you say 1127 kwamba wale nao ni Waafrika. Lakini ukizungumza na watu tu wa that they themselves are Africans. But if you’re speaking/conversing with people just 1128 kawaida ‘Mwafrika’ ni mtu ambaye ana rangi nyeusi yaani siyo normally ‘African’ 1129 is [a] person who has black color that is not mweupe. Kwa maana ya weupe wa Ulaya, weupe wa—wa—wa white. Meaning [that] [the] Whites of Europe, Whites wh— wh—wh 149 1130 Korea, weupe wa China, weupe tuseme wa, yaani wa Asia kwa Korea, Whites of Chinea, Whites we say of, that is of Asia 1131 ujumla. in general. Dar es Salaam, Interview with Teaching Assistant #3, 29 September 2011, lines 1115-1131 The key observation here is that a strict Black-White dichotomy appears to govern the construction of the identity within Tanzania, but that these qualifiers are superceded, according to the teaching assistant, by a focus on Europe or the U.S., likely because this region—the West—is seen as the greatest historical opponent of Tanzanian and African development. This makes it so that while a person of Korean, Chinese, Indian (country of India), or Arab origin might be considered non-African, having non-Black skin, they are not considered an Mzungu in this case because they do not originate from the Western World. Speaking from a position within the Tanzanian worldview, the teaching assistant remarks thus: Lakini Mzungu kabisa kiusahihi ni mtu mweupe ambaye anatoka Ulaya au anatoka Marekani ambaye ni (?) [.] mweupe. Mkorea tunasema ah yule Mkorea, yule ni Mchina, yule Mhindi yule ni Mwarabu, hatusemi Wazungu. (Dar es Salaam, Interview with Language Teaching Assistant #3, 29 September 2011, lines 1083-1086) But Mzungu [in the fullest, correct sense] is [a] White person who is from Europe or from America who is (?) [.] White. [The] Korean we say ah that Korean person, that person is Chinese, that Indian person that person is Arab, we don’t say Wazungu. 150 That being said, Mzungu is not only a reference to skin color, it is a reflection on one’s linguistic behavior, a commentary on one’s Otherness. When I share with the teaching assistant that I have had, by that time, experiences with being called Mzungu, it is revealed that one can be considered Mzungu if they are regarded as being unable to comprehend Swahili, because many Wazungu do not know Swahili. These comments connect to the program administrator’s observation of a link between the viewing of languages other than Swahili as Kizungu within the Tanzanian worldview, and the further consideration of Kizungu as Kiingereza by default, the language of the West. Excerpt 16: 1062 TA3: Unaweza ukaitwa Mzungu wakijua kwamba hufahamu Kiswahili. You can be called Mzunge if they know that you don’t understand Swahili. 1063 1064 J: A:h. TA3: Unaongea Kiingereza tu wanase—‘ah! Yule bwana ni Mzungu’ kwa You speak/talk English just they sa—‘ah! That guy/mister is [an] Mzungu’ 1065 sababu Wazungu wengi wanakuwa hawajui Kiswahili. because many Wazungu they don’t know 1066 1067 Swahili J: Uh huh. TA3: Kwa hiyo tunai—kuna yaani hata Mtanzania anaweza ukaitwa Therefore we’re—there’s that is even [a] Tanzanian can be called 151 1068 Mzungu. Kama mimi nase—‘ah! Yule ni Mzungu’. Yaani kwa mfano Mzungu. If I say— ‘ah! That person [over there] is [an] Mzungu’. That is for example 1069 kama ninafanya mambo ninaiga mambo ya uzu— like 1070 I’m doing something I’m imitating something [of Zungu-ness]— Wazunguwazungu au siwezi kuongea eh Kiswahili. Tunasema ‘ah [really] Wazungu-ish/like or I can’t speak eh Swahili. We say ah 1071 yule ni Mzungu’. Lakini kiusahihi zaidi, ile ni utani. Ni kama vile mtu that person [over there] is [an] Mzungu’. But more correctly, that’s [a] joke. If it’s like that [a] person 1072 anakutania ‘ah we Mzungu’, anakutania. Lakini ile ambayo ni—ni [.] is joking with you ‘ah you Mzungu’, [they’re] joking with you. But that which is—is [.] 1073 sahihi kabisa Wazungu ni wale weupe. totally correct Wazungu are those [aforementioned] Whites/White people. 1074 1075 J: Mm. TA3: Weupe ndiyo Wazungu. Na ndiyo maana hata wewe watakusema Whites indeed [are] Wazungu. And [it] indeed means even you they’ll say to you 152 1076 Mzungu. Labda ukiongea Kiingereza, ukiongea Kiingereza [.] Mzungu. Maybe/ perhaps if you’re speaking/talking English, if you’re speaking/talking English [.] 1077 ukiwa ukiongea Kiswahili ukashindwa kuongea vizuri. if you’re speaking/talking Swahili [and] you fail to speak/talk well. 1078 1079 J: Mmhmm. TA3: Wanasema ‘kumbe huyu ni Mzungu bwana’. They same ‘Wow this person is [an] Mzungu man/dude’. 1080 1081 J: Ah. TA3: Yaani kwamba ni mtu ambaye hawezi kuongea lugha ya Kiswahili. That is that it’s [a] person who can’t speak/talk [the] Swahili language. Dar es Salaam, Interview with Teaching Assistant #3, 29 September 2011, lines 1062-1081 In these responses to my shared comments on having been called Mzungu off campus, the teaching assistant expands the definition of the term to include circumstances where one might be jokingly referred to in such a way as to call attention to their poor proficiency in Swahili, or their imitation of non-Tanzanian behaviors. These circumstances might include an instance where someone does something in a Wazungu way or is unable to speak Swahili, ‘Kama ninafanya mambo ninaiga mambo ya uzu—Wazunguwazungu au siwezi kuongea eh Kiswahili’ (lines 1069-1070 above). In this regard, the term Wazungu goes beyond a reference to the 153 appearance of the Other to encode a commentary on both social behavior 24 and linguistic performance. Within this conceptualization, a Tanzanian could be considered an Mzungu if they are behaving or performing in ways that are not considered Tanzanian norms. As the teaching assistant words it, with the playful inclusion of ‘bwana’ (man/dude) and the surprise or wonderment or curiosity communicated in ‘kumbe’ (wow) in line 1079: ‘Wanasema kumbe huyu ni Mzungu bwana’. In such a situation, it comes as a humorous surprise that the person not typically viewed as the Other is behaving or performing like an Mzungu. Nevertheless, the most correct understanding of Mzungu is in reference to ‘wale weupe’ (line 1073), (those [aforementioned] White people), and the person who cannot speak Swahili, ‘mtu ambaye hawezi kuongea lugha ya Kiswahili’ (line 1081). English as linguistic capital. Altogether, these statements lead to the understanding of the Tanzanian as phenotypically Black, a proficient speaker of Swahili, and with an African cultural 25 sensibility , all of which the Other is typically not. Some room is made within this definition for Tanzanian-born Indians, who are legal citizens of Tanzania. Similar to there being a !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 24 When asked to comment further on tabia, the behavior or character of an individual, and how this might be a defining characteristic of an Mzungu, the teaching assistant described how behaving in a disrespectful manner towards elders was considered to be unacceptable. More specifically, she explained that it was the African practice of bestowing all older persons with the same respect as one would their parents, that put the Mzungu in a different category: Kwa hiyo tabia nyinginyingi za Mwafrika yaani ambazo ni tofauti na za Mzungu […] ni ngumu lakini kwa mfano, Afrika yaani kuna ile tuseme, ambayo ni general kwa wote kwamba kuna, mkubwa ni mkubwa daima na mdogo ni mdogo. Kwamba unapoona mtu mzima, kwa mfano anayekuzidi umri, unahisi ni kama yeye ni baba au ni kama mama. Ni tabia ambayo haipo kabisa kwa Wazungu. Yeye anaangalia babake ni yule aliyemzaa. Mama yake ni yule aliyemzaa. Lakini sisi Waafrika tunaamini mtu yeyote anayekuzidi umri, ni mw—ni—ni mzazi wako. Eeh mzee. Kwa hivyo lazima umheshimu kama unavyoheshimu wazazi wako. (Interview with Language Teaching Assistant #3, September 29, 2011, lines 1177-1189) 25 See note above on tabia, Tanzanian behavior. 154 geographically-based assignment of Waafrika to all who are situated within the continent, the Indian Tanzanian is considered Tanzanian because of citizenship, not because of other defining characteristics. The teaching assistant’s earlier statement makes this clear; the definition of a Tanzanian or an African is based most on a perception of skin color: ‘tunaangalia zaidi rangi’ (line 1094 above), we look more at color. And when it comes to performing Tanzanian-ness through language use, a proficient display of Swahili is preferred to a co-usage of Swahili and English. On the use of English by Tanzanians, the teaching assistant offered this perspective: Ni nzuri tu kama una—unawasiliana na mtu ambaye hajui Kiswahili, kwa kweli hapo hakuna namna ili mwasiliane. Lakini siyo vizuri kwetu sisi kutumia Kiingereza kwa sababu si tunataka kutumia Kiingereza tuonekane kama tumesoma sa:na au tunajua, eh tuko juu, kitu ambacho siyo sahihi. Mimi nadhani yaani watu, inabidi tutumie tu Kiswahili chetu kama ni Kiswahili ni Kiswahili. Ikitokea umekutana na mtu ambaye hawezi Kiswahili ndiyo umsaidie kwa lugha, ile Kiingereza. Dar es Salaam, Interview with Language Teaching Assistant #3, 29 September 2011, lines 1227-1234 It’s only okay if you—you are communicating with [a] person who doesn’t know Swahili, in reality there [in that situation] there is no [other] way to communicate with [them]. But it’s not very good here [in our place that] we [are] using English because we want to use English so that we appear like we have studied a lot or we know, eh we’re in [a] high position, something which isn’t right/correct. If it happens you have met with [a] person who hasn’t ability [in] Swahili yes you should help them with/using language, [the aforementioned] English. 155 Distilled within the teaching assistant’s comments on English-language use is another defining characteristic of the linguistic ecology of Dar es Salaam, the idea that English is the only alternative language for communication with someone who does not appear to speak Swahili. This is what makes the use of English okay, that it is being used in a situation where there is no other alternative. When someone has no knowledge of Swahili, there is no other way to communicate, but through English: ‘hakuna namna ili mwasiliane’ (there is no [other] way to communicate with [them]) These comments are consistent with those of the program administrator’s explanation of the Tanzanian imaginary of the Other, the Non-African/White outsider, the Mzungu, as constructed around a Swahili-English, Kiswahili-Kizungu dichotomy. The outsider is someone who does not speak Swahili, but by default is a speaker of English; yes you should help them with/using language, [the aforementioned] English, ‘ndiyo umsaidie kwa lugha, ile Kiingereza’ (line 1234). The outsider, while not proficient in Swahili, and therefore unable to linguistically or culturally navigate in Swahili terms within the Tanzanian community, is also viewed as possessive of a different kind of linguistic or cultural capital, the type that knowledge of English subsumes: a higher status, a better education. And it is probably because not all Tanzanians have access to education beyond primary school, when the medium of instruction nationally shifts to English from Swahili (through secondary and tertiary levels), that knowledge of English becomes indicative of access to education and socioeconomic status within Tanzanian society. When a Tanzanian speaks in English, according to the teaching assistant, it is because they want to appear as though they are learned, that they know something, that they are higher up, and to her, this is not right because it devalues other Tanzanians. This is why one should just consistently use Swahili, if speaking in Swahili, and not include English. But the mixing of 156 Swahili and English persists, and it is seen as a behavior, or character element, tabia, that is particularly displayed by politicians and members of parliament during television or radio interviews. Excerpt 17: 1236 TA3: So ni tabia ambayo imetoka, hata wa—yaani imejengeka. Hata So it’s [a] behavrio that has come from, even of/from—that is it has been created. Even 1237 wanasiasa kama wabu:nge:. Unakuta anahojiwa, yeye ni mbunge, politicians like members of parliament. You find [when] [they’re] interviewed, s/he is [a] member of parliament, 1238 anawakilisha wananchi, s/he is representing citizens/constituents, 1239 1240 J: Mmhmm. TA3: ambao wananchi wengi hawajui hata Kiingereza, wanajua tu who many citizens/constitutents don’t know even English, they just know 1241 Kiswahili. Lakini anahojiwa kwenye na-ni (?) [.] labda kwenye TV Swahili. But s/he is interviews in what’s it (?) [.] mayber on TV 1242 au kwenye radio, or on radio, 157 1243 J: Habari. News. 1244 TA3: e: yeah, anaanza kuzungumza, anachanganya lugha. Sasa e: yeah, s/he starts to speak/converse, mixing languages. Now 1245 wananchi wake hawawezi kumwelewa. their citizens/constituents can’t understand [them]. 1246 1247 J: Mm. Mm. TA3: Maneno yale anayoyaweka ya Kiingereza, wananchi hawajui. Kwa Those words that s/he puts [in] English, citizens/constitutents don’t know. 1248 hiyo ujumbe unakuwa umepotea, hawamwelewi. Kwa hiyo si tabia Therefore [the] message is/gets lost, they don’t understand [her/him]. Therefore it’s not [a] 1249 nzuri kuichang—ku na-ni (?) [.] kuchanganya hizi lugha. good behavior to mix it—to what’s it (?) [.] to mix these languages. 1250 J: Mmhmm. Dar es Salaam, Interview with Teaching Assistant #3, 29 September 2011, lines 1236-1250 The use of English by local politicians on Tanzanian television and radio is viewed here as a poor behavior, a poor tabia, because it is done even as these politicians know that what they are saying, the English words that they are using, cannot be widely understood by the Tanzanian citizens they purport to represent. So says the teaching assistant, that many citizens do not know 158 English, and only know Swahili: ‘wananchi wengi hawajui hata Kiingereza, wanajua tu Kiswahili’ (line 1240 above). Therefore the use of English in talking to Tanzanians, other native speakers of Swahili, is not good, and it is not good to mix the languages: ‘Kwa hiyo si tabia nzuri kuichang—ku na-ni (?) [.] kuchanganya hizi lugha’ (lines 1248-1249). This explicit statement builds upon the Swahili-English dichotomy already outlined within the teaching assistant’s view, wherein the mixed use or codeswitching of Swahili and English is conceived of as appropriate only in situations involving an outsider. Among Tanzanians, this mixed use is inappropriate, and unnecessary. The teaching assistant’s statement on the mixing of the languages then begets another, even more explicit articulation of how English and Swahili should have separate domains in speech, such that English words should not need to be included in Swahili-framed conversations where they do not fit, or are unacceptable. Excerpt 18: 1251 TA3: Kama unaongea Kiingereza, basi ongea Kiingereza tu, peke yake. If you’re speaking/talking English, well speak/talk just English, by itself. 1252 Kama ni Kiswahili, ongea Kiswahili ili tusipotoshwe maana kuna If it’s Swahili, speak/talk Swahili so that we don’t lose [the] meaning there are 1253 maneno mengi ya Kiingereza wanataka kuhamisha kwa Kiswahili many words 1254 from English they want to move into ambayo hayakubaliki. which do not agree/fit. 159 Swahili 1255 1256 J: Mmhmm. TA3: Mi nadhani ni vizuri tuwe—tutumie kama ni Kiswahili ni Kiswahili, Me I believe it’s better [that] we—we use Swahili if it’s Swahili, 1257 kama ni Kiingereza ni Kiingereza. Kuwasiliana. English if it’s English. To communicate. Dar es Salaam, Interview with Teaching Assistant #3, 29 September 2011, lines 1251-1257 Here, the explicit recommendation against language mixing or codeswitching manifests language ideology that is masked by the societal schism delimited by the use of English within Tanzania: the haves and the have-nots, the English-speakers and the Swahili-speakers, the outsiders and the true Tanzanians. In other words, it is a perspective represented as a practical necessity, though it insinuates that the languages should be kept separate. Within this perspective, the purpose of keeping the languages separate is to promote greater communication, or ‘Kuwasiliana’ (line 1257 above), as the teaching assistant says, for the benefit of Tanzanians. Because those who do not understand English are excluded from interactions in which English and Swahili are both used. Accordingly, the figuring of English into a Swahili interaction is acceptable when it enables the communication of a Tanzanian, a natural speaker of Swahili, with a non-speaker of Swahili. 26 Within this view, the counter to the widespread unintelligibility of !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 26 At the same time, these extracts from the interview, wherein the teaching assistant produces discourse markers from both English (‘so’, line 1236 above; ‘yeah’, line 1244) and Swahili (‘nani (?)’, lines 1241, 1249 above) illustrate them to be, at the very least, a bilingual for whom the speaking of Swahili throughout the interview constituted an explicit language choice (many urban Tanzanians are also trilinguals, speaking an additional language related to their ethnic group). Still, that these English-language discourse markers appeared in speech governed by a Swahili grammatical frame shows that Swahili is really the language being spoken here. 160 English in Tanzania is to not mix the languages, to use only Swahili when speaking Swahili, and only English when speaking English, thereby creating a separate domain for each language. This is said in two different ways. The use of tu (just, only) with peke yake (alone, by itself) emphasizes the separation between the languages: ‘Kama unaongea Kiingereza, basi ongea Kiingereza tu, peke yake’ (line 1251 above). Next, the staging of a binary between Kiswahili and Kiingereza in a later statement illustrates their diametric configuration within this viewpoint: ‘Mi nadhani ni vizuri tuwe—tutumie kama ni Kiswahili ni Kiswahili, kama ni Kiingereza ni Kiingereza’ (lines 1256-1257) (Me I believe it’s better [that] we—we use Swahili if it’s Swahili, English if it’s English). The Mexico City Setting: Classroom and Participants Lasting Impressions At Etiopía I met a Black man who told me he had been living in the area for 30 years. When I asked him if he liked it, compared to other places he had been, like France or Spain, he emphatically replied that he loved it. He then went on to say a few more things, but I didn’t pick up on every word. With his clipped accent, words like gente (people) and tranquila (quiet, peaceful) seemed to roll together. At one point he referred to himself as cubano (Cuban) and informed me that he would soon be opening a restaurant (restaurant). At the end of our encounter, my new friend told me to call him for cualquiera cosa, any reason. ‘Te agradezco,’ I said in thanks as we shook hands, and hugged in that unfamiliar, one-sided way that people do who have only just met. Then, I shifted my grip on my shoulder bag, exited the bus, and navigated through the crowd of oncoming passengers to the other side of the bus station, and crossed the street, following my well-worn route back to my apartment some four or five blocks away in Colonia Escandón, in Mexico City, Distrito Federal (Federal District). 161 Encountering another Black person when I did on the bus that April day at Etiopía station (termed for the Ethiopian government’s sponsoring of the nearby plaza of the same name; see Figure 12 below), was exciting because we seemed to be few and far between in the City. Today, the population of American African descendants and other African descendant groups, as well as immigrants, have a greater degree of visibility in the U.S. than in Mexico. In short, the historical movements towards civil rights achievement, Black Pride, and Pan-African heritage promotion among American African descendants in the U.S., eventually coalesced into a large part of the reason why Swahili gained prominence in the U.S. between the 1950s and 1970s, this growing enthusiasm itself a partial response to the decolonization of Tanganyika, and the later, proved stability of the Tanzanian nation. 27 In contrast, the Mexican national project of obscuring the African descendant population, and their cultural and genetic contribution to the modern Mexican, was successful in limiting the number of people who today identify as Afromexicanos, thereby severely limiting the national visibility and upward mobility of these groups, as well as their political influence in Mexico. Today, much of the struggle of these Afro-mexicans is to be recognized as Mexicans, as la tercera raíz, the forgotten, third root of the Mexican family tree which is officially and popularly understood as an exclusive blend of Indian and Spanish heritage. To this day, it continues to be a direct insult to refer to someone as Negro (Black/Dark-skinned) in Mexico, where it is commonplace to call attention to someone’s racial features in addressing them or describing them to others. As such, there are a number of euphemisms in place for !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 27 Part of the evidence of the rise in popularity and advocacy of Swahili-language learning in the U.S. during this time period is the rise in development and publication of a number of introductory textbooks. One such textbook, published in 1998, which has been continuous print since, is the Hinnesbusch and Mirza text for native speakers of English. This text was in use in the Mexico City classroom at the time I was conducting fieldwork for this project. 162 Figure 12. View of the exterior of the Etiopía Metrobús station. Mexico City, Mexico. 15 April 2011. addressing a brown- to darker-skinned person, including referring to them as Moreno/a (Brownskinned) in the presence of others. As a U.S. African descendant in Mexico City and elsewhere in the country of Mexico, I experienced several times being directly referred to as Morena, and on a few occasions as Güera (Light-skinned/Blonde), a euphemism that, by delivering a descriptive contrast, drew attention to my skin color, and laced the descriptive with an amusing tenor. Walking through the open air markets, vendors would try to capture my attention, asking what they could give or get for me: ¿Qué le doy, morena? ¿Qué le doy, güera? From the very first day of my observations at the Mexico City university, the entire campus of which had a total of around 450 students, I began sitting in the Swahili-language classroom with the six learners in the African studies program, and their professors. The class would meet four times a week for two hours in the morning, beginning at 9am. Spending the day 163 with the same learners and professors for four days of the week (there was no language class on Fridays), there were opportunities to join them as they went for mid-morning snacks of chopped fruit and granola and sweet tamales from nearby vendors, or sat down to lunch in the campus cafeteria. All of this contact presented me with occasions to get to know these learners as well as students in other area studies programs at the university. From our chats I came to learn a great deal about the institution, as well as the intricacies of social relations in the City, and the politics of studying Africa from within Mexico. African Studies at the University Patterned after the University of London’s School of Oriental and African Studies, the Mexico City Master’s program in African studies chose Swahili as a required language of study from its inception in the 1980s. In this way, Swahili was a key component of coursework in African studies, in the same way that Arabic, Mandarin Chinese, Japanese, Hindi, Bahasa Indonesia, and Korean were required of students of the areas of the Middle East, China, Japan, Korea, and Southeast Asia. 28 As the program discusses of its own beginning, quoting a university professor in its commemorative history self-published in the 1990s, the central idea of this language study was to enable the production of direct translations of primary sources, disabling a complete reliance on English or French as intermediary languages: Desde el principio, no quisimos ser otro vértice de un triángulo sino establecer una relación directa con el campo de estudios, de manera que los estudiantes tuvieran un conocimiento de primera mano y no necesariamente a través de libros escritos en otra lengua—lo cual no quiere decir que descartáramos el uso del inglés o del francés, o del !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 28 For the research area of Southeast Asia, students could choose between Hindi or Bahasa Indonesia. 164 idioma que fuera—para que así se acercaran directamente a las lenguas y eventualmente tuviéramos estudiantes que hicieran traducciones directas. From the beginning, we didn’t want to be another vertice of a triangle with establishing a direct relationship with the field of studies, [in a] way that the students would have firsthand knowledge and not necessarily through books written in another language—it was not wanted to say that we discarded the use of English or of French, or whatever language—in order to in that way they will be [brought] closer directly to the language and eventually we would have students that would do/make direct translations. When it came to Swahili, the program chose the language for its status within the African continent, as well as its political and sociolinguistic importance as a lingua franca within a large sector of eastern and central Africa: ---- 29 30 cuando se inició el Programa de África ---- , hubo que optar por una lengua dentro del universo lingüístico africano. La decisión recayó sobre el swahili, lengua bantú con elementos del léxico árabe pues se trata de una lingua franca [italics in original] hablada por más de cincuenta millones de hablantes, con gran importancia política y sociolingüística en África oriental y central. ---- when the Program of Africa was begun ----, there was the decision to opt for language within the African linguistic universe. The decision fell upon Swahili, [a] Bantu language with elements of the Arabic lexicon [that was something] of a lingua franca !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 29 Identifying information elided from this statement. 30 See note above. 165 spoken by more than fifty million speakers, with great political and sociolinguistic import in East and Central Africa. The African studies program began by bringing a professor from (then) Zaire in the 1980s to teach Swahili. Thereafter, the program continued on with language instructors from Tanzania and Kenya. At the time of the present study, the program had the capacity of four instructors of language, three of whom doubled as research professors, though only two of the four were currently teaching the language. Those capable of teaching the language had become highly competent in the language through extended stays in Tanzania, or being native speakers from the Democratic Republic of the Congo or Kenya. One current professor of the African studies program, who I refer to as Professor #1, explained to me in our English-language interview that ‘And it was chosen Swahili, because, as you know, Swahili is the most, u:m, widely u::m, studied [African] language in the world’ (13 October 2010, lines 101-102, Mexico City). These remarks aligned with the program’s official account of its own founding. As it was in the 1980s, the language was positioned as a ‘language for the area’ because it was already internationally well known, had a global presence, and was widely considered a key language for researchers on Africa. I mean, [as academics], you find courses of Swahili everywhere. […] Because even here in Mexico, […] a lot of people know that. And Swahili is the most well-based [.] I:: eh, language, African language, for study. (Mexico City, Interview with Professor #1, 13 October 2010, lines 104-112) 166 Swahili was ju—was, was—was considered the language for the area […] and Swahili, you know, as an American, for some people is considered, like an, mm:: an—an—Afri, Africanist language. (Mexico City, Interview with Professor #1, 13 October 2010, lines 114-120) These interview comments show how the existing status of Swahili made it a clear choice for the Mexico City program, as well as for other programs in African studies at other universities in the world. Professor #1 (P1) went on to tell me (J) that there was a political aspect to the status of the language. Excerpt 19: 122 P1: That is a political story about h::—why Swahili is considered that. In 123 124 the United States you have the Kwanzaa—the Kwanzaa festiv[al. J: [Right. 125 P1: And I know that in some universities people try to learn some Swahili 126 127 words, and [.] J: Mmhmm. 128 P1: ¿No?// 129 J: //Mmhmm.// 130 P1: //And, now I think middle class and higher classes of Afro-American 131 132 people choose Swahili names for—for themselves, ¿No? J: Sure.// 133 P1: //Asante. Zawadi. Names like this, ¿No? 134 J: Mmhmm. 167 135 P1: So. [.] The program in Africa started with Swahili. 136 J: ((quiet)) Mmhmm. 137 P1: The—what is the justification? [.] To get a::n African language in order 138 to reinforce your knowledge about the culture? Because obviously, a 140 very goo—good way to learn a, to learn a culture is to learn a 141 language. Mexico City, Interview with Professor #1, 13 October 2010, lines 122-141 By the time the program in estudios africanos (African studies) was formed in 1982 with the cooperation of the Mexican government, Swahili had already gained renown as the national language of Tanzania under Julius Nyerere in the 1960s and 1970s, where its prevalence was largely credited with the level of national unity and stability the country was able to carry with it into the 1980s. This widespread in-country promotion of Swahili also had the contemporary effect of projecting the language as a solidarity mechanism in Black Pride and African American self-identity movements in places like the United States, where numerous African descendants were interested in connecting with cultural and linguistic aspects of African cultures, and becoming invested in learning languages such as Swahili, and taking on names inspired by Swahili vocabulary (e.g., Nambuo Temu, 1992; Waliaula, 2013). During this time Dr. Maulana Karenga conceived the annual community celebration of Kwanzaa in 1966, and Swahili words and phrases were becoming enveloped into some advertisements targeting African American consumers. All of these parallel movements in Swahili-language promotion seem to be what the university professor is referring to (above), where it is acknowledged that I am an American, and America (the U.S.) is a context in which some people consider Swahili to be synonymous with 168 the pursuit of African studies. Accordingly, the professor’s remarks illustrate that language teaching at the Mexico City university was an outgrowth of the African studies program, and not vice versa; language learning was viewed as a ‘good way to learn […] a culture’ and supplement the pursuit of research. Language Teaching Methodology In the Mexico City Swahili-language classroom, the norm was for the instructor to take a seated position at the front of the room near the whiteboard (see Figure 13 below for a view of the classroom), and from there direct the class through grammar-translation activities. There were two language instructors, and they alternated their days in the classroom, such that no class was ever led by two instructors at once, though all of the class meetings comprised one total course and course grades were the collaborative decision of the instructors. Depending on the instructor, these activities typically took the form of transcribing and translating song lyrics from Swahili to Spanish, or listening to Swahili-language news broadcasts (BBC, Deutsche Welle, Voice of America) while completing cloze passages transcribed from the broadcasts, and answering questions from the instructor aimed at assessing comprehension or grammatical competence in a focus on form. See Figure 13 below for a view of my own corrected worksheet from one of these BBC Swahili listening exercises; note that my score was of ‘3 faltas’ or three fails or mistakes. An ongoing project for learners throughout my observation period was the task of creating dictionary entries—five Swahili words at a time, per learner—for the comprehension of Swahili by Spanish-speakers. Learners received credit for their entries, and the long-term plan stated by instructors was for these to be eventually compiled into a dictionary. Other in-class 169 activity centered upon the comprehension and translation of authentic texts (news articles, poetry, plays, segments of novels) as a group or individuals, as well as correcting learner emails (required twice weekly) as a group. At the end of the fall semester, the class watched and discussed the film Bongoland II. Learners were also required to write essays in Swahili on their developing thesis research topics (see Figure 14 below for a view of student essay corrected by an instructor). Mexico City Participants University Learners. When I arrived to begin my observations in August, the learners had already been together in the program for the entire previous academic year, or two semesters. Having had daily instruction amounting to 8 hours of Swahili per week for those prior two semesters, the learners were well acquainted with Swahili, able to express opinions and demonstrate, in particular, extensive knowledge of the grammar. In my view, these were advanced-level learners. All were undertaking study of the language as a required component of their Master’s-level coursework, and none had entered the program with any previous experience studying the language. They were between the ages of 24-46 years old, being all female, except for one male student. Two students had come from Cuba to join the program, another from Venezuela, and the remaining three were Mexican nationals. In Table 2 below I detail all of the learners using pseudonyms to preserve their anonymity. Differently from Table 1 above (on Dar es Salaam learners), I am unable to link these learners to their countries of origin, because with so small a group they might be easily identifiable. For these same reasons, I use a female pseudonym in reference to the male learner. All learners were participants in the language and 170 content courses I present in this study. Excerpts from interviews with these university learners are listed in Appendix C. Figure 13 . University learners complete cloze exercises while listening to a BBC Swahili radio news broadcast. Mexico City, Mexico. 27 January 2011. ! 171 Table 2. Mexico City participants featured in the study. Previous Learner Cohort First Swahili Interview Name Language(s) (semesters) Language(s) Ana Spanish 2 English Luna Spanish 2 English Natalia Spanish 2 English Jazmín Spanish 2 English, Spanish Eliza Spanish 2 English, Spanish Ximena Spanish 2 English 172 Figure 1. First page of cloze worksheet for BBC Swahili segment 'Mti wa Krismasi wa thamani zaidi' (Christmas tree of great value). Mexico City, Mexico. 20 January 2011. ! 173 Figure 15. First page of corrected Swahili essay: 'Cote d'Ivoire: Tatizo la warais wa wili' (Cote d'Ivoire: Problem of two presidents). Mexico City, Mexico. 11 April 2011. 174 Community Learners. At the same time that the formal, daily language instruction was occurring during the day with the six learners of the Master’s cohort at my primary research site, downtown in Mexico City their instructors were conducting weekly, evening language classes for the interested public in meeting rooms provided by the national senate. These evening classes included some 14 learners and were organized by the Comisión de Relaciones Exteriores de África del Senado (Senate Foreign Affairs Comission on Africa) for a three-month period coinciding with the fall semester, and concluding in the second week of October (see Figure 16 below). It was not so unusual for the university professors to teach Swahili or talk about the language in the public. On other occasions, such as during the week-long Semana de África ! Figure 16. 'Jina langu ni Vania. Uhuru na kazi' (My name is Vania. Freedom and work), Cellphone text message from a community language learner. Mexico City, Mexico. 10 November 2010. 175 (Africa Week) event at another university campus in Mexico City, Universidad Tecnológica del Monterrey (TEC), two of the professors from my primary research site made a 2-hour presentation to TEC students, explaining some of the history of the Swahili language, as well as where it is spoken, and teaching how to say greetings and self-introductions (see Figure 16 above for an example of a text message one learner sent to another; see, also, Figure 17 below for a view of the community language classroom). The community class brought together interested persons both student and professional, with varying instrumental interests and motivations for learning Swahili, and acquiring more knowledge about Africa in general, and East Africa, in particular. Once I found out this evening course was taking place (by word of mouth from a university professor), I was able to attend the last meetings of these classes, and interview some of these local, Mexican stakeholders. I include brief excerpts from these interviews in the next section below, because their remarks illustrate how informative their experience was in the evening class, as well as what their previous conceptions of Africa might have been. While these community learners were also participants in the study, they were not the primary focus, and for this reason I present a selection of their comments as anonymous (see Table 5 below), similar to how I present the comments of professors within the African studies program, so as to reduce confusion and maintain focus on the university learners. Learning at the University. In our interviews and informal conversations, Mexico City university learners described how they were each first-language speakers of Spanish, and had acquired English and French through their years of prior schooling, from primary through Bachelor’s degrees. As I came to learn, the majority of these learners were typical of educated Latin American students who had begun learning English or French at an early age. Prior to 176 beginning their Master’s degrees, they had studied English as a subject in school, and had gone on to complete special courses abroad in the U.S. or France in the English and French to shore up their proficiency. In fact, to qualify for entry into the African studies program they were required 31 to have scored at least a 550 on the TOEFL exam , as well as demonstrate proficiency in French. Differently from other area studies programs at the university which only required English-language proficiency in addition to competence in Spanish, in the African studies program both English and French were considered by the program administration as necessary for the study of Africa and conduct of original research. Reflecting on this multilingualism, Ximena noted in our interview that ‘I found it easier for me to learn Swahili in English rather than Spanish’. But then, there were also multiple Spanishes in the classroom as well, which presented a somewhat palpable tension, with some learners correcting others’ use of Spanish. Multiple Swahilis also surfaced in the classroom between the Congolese, Kenyan, and Tanzanian varieties spoken between the language instructors and professors from the Democratic Republic of the Congo (D.R.C.), Kenya, Mexico, and the U.S., becoming a small source of confusion at times. In these cases, learners would be directed to follow the conventions of Standard Swahili. In individual interviews, some learners described themselves as being of mixed heritage, like Eliza who commented ‘we are really a mix of bloods here’. Other learners, like Natalia, related how they had Black heritage (having blood relatives who are negro or Black), explaining how at home in Cuba she could be regarded as jabá or jabáo, which denoted ‘White skin but the hair’s like very very curly’. This ‘mixed’ heritage was not described as a motivating factor for their interests in studying Africa. Rather, these interests had emerged from wanting to know more about African art, history and politics, and the program at the Mexico City university had !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 31 TOEFL is a common abbreviation for the internationally recognized Test of English as a Foreign Language. 177 appeared to be a natural fit because it was the most prestigious African studies program in Latin America, and courses could be taken in Spanish. As such, the learning of Swahili had become a requisite, though incidental, part of their experience. For example, one learner could not enter the program at the doctoral level because she had no competence in Swahili, even though she had previously completed a Master’s degree. These learners referred to themselves as ‘africanistas’ (Africanists) interested in researching female gender roles in Senegal, refugee migration between Senegal and Spain, the religious art of the D.R.C., political history of Tanzania, economic relations among the Gambia, South Africa, and Venezuela, in addition to the influence of oil on the relations between Algeria, Libya, and Nigeria. In Mexico City, the imagining of relationships with speakers of Swahili based in East Africa was complicated by the classroom’s physical distance from Swahiliphone Africa. Their regular study of Swahili through the program had left them feeling like they had a good grasp of Swahili grammar, and still they really wanted to learn more of how to express things in the language about their daily life or ‘vida cotidiana’. Natalia and Ana, especially, told me how they liked to use Swahili on Facebook. Only one of the learners had traveled to East Africa (Tanzania) for research and language study, while two others had traveled to Senegal for their research. Altogether, the extent of the learners’ contact with Swahili-speakers was limited to their language instructors and professors in the program, and the occasional speakers they encountered on their travels. For some learners, this led to feelings of disconnect with the language. However, through encounters with Swahili-speakers beyond the program, which entailed communicative speech events in Swahili, learners began to feel good about their Swahili-language knowledge. 178 Sometimes their history professor would walk into the Swahili-language class just when it was letting out, and this would seem to encourage the teacher-led exchange of Swahili greetings with the students. Habari zenu? (How are you all?) Nzuri. (Good.) Or sometimes, the professors would need to pass along instructions or papers to the students, and enter the Swahililanguage class as it was ongoing, and have an extended interaction with the language instructor in Swahili, in front of the students, without encouraging student involvement. In these different verbal exchanges, I was seeing a symbiotic interplay between the language-learning and contentstudy sectors of the learner experience. When these professor-professor exchanges would occur in Swahili, particularly between non-native speakers, I was also seeing the act of conversing in sophisticated, native-like Swahili in front of students as a performance, and an enactment of these professors’ identities as experts within this community of practice. The primary practice of which was to use Swahili as an investigatory tool for furthering research objectives on Africa. In these ways, Swahili was finding itself a part of the study of African history or African literature. And vice-versa. The study of Swahili was a point of pride for the class, and learners and instructors would describe their group to outsiders as a quadrilingual community. On one such occasion, when a professor from Chile joined the class to deliver a guest lecture on the ‘redes intelectuales’ (intellectual networks) and the ‘circulación sur-sur’ (South-South circulation) of knowledge production, members of the class declared that their group was ‘más que bilingüe’ (more than bilingual)’. To this, the Chilean presenter appeared happily surprised, saying ‘¡Felicitaciones!’ (Congratulations!). In truth, the Swahili-language activity that the class was engaged in on a regular basis was illustrating the very South-South link between Latin America, the Carribbean, 179 and Africa that the Chilean presenter had planned to discuss. At one point during his presentation, the presenter drew the following equation on the whiteboard: D.A. = D.L. + Fanon + Panafricanismo A key link in the historical circulation of flows in knowledge production between Latin America and Africa had been the dissemination of dependentismo or dependency theory, particularly as articulated by Walter Rodney (1982 [1972]) in his now seminal study, How Europe underdeveloped Africa. As the presenter explained, the dependentismo africano or African dependency theory explicated in that work was the fusion of dependentismo latinoamericano, Latin American dependency theory, and theories developed by Frantz Fanon, in addition to Pan African thought (drawing upon scholar-activists such as Aimé Cesaire, Leopold Senghor, Jomo Kenyatta, Marcus Garvey, George Padmore, and Kwame Nkrumah). In fact, Walter Rodney presented a prime example of this South-South internetwork, as he had been born in Guyana, went on to complete a doctorate at SOAS, reworking his dissertation into his seminal work during an extended stay in Tanzania (through the 1970s) and a teaching appointment at the University of Dar es Salaam in 1966-1967. In effect, the discussion of Walter Rodney’s text within the Mexico City classroom, within the presentation b the visiting scholar, and later, within the African history course, some two months following this presentation, takes on the significance of furthering the flow of knowledge production by bringing the discussion of dependentismo africano back to Latin America. In this way, the Mexico City classroom is engaged in the extension of these ‘redes intelectuales’ (intellectual networks) that connect constructions of Africa around a Tanzanian center, along historical pathways in scholarship between Latin America and Africa. 180 The travel of the classroom community members (learners, professors) to East Africa for research purposes fed into this same historical pathway between Latin America and Africa. Talking with the learner who had spent time in Dar es Salaam, I was able to hear a description of the Swahili-speaking city in her own words. Navigating the city had been challenging in some ways, because ‘it was people trying to touch you’, and there was a tendency among local Tanzanians to use English with this learner, being perceived as they were, as a White outsider: But always I tried to explain ‘Mimi si Mzungu! Mimi si Mzungu!’ ((laughs)) ‘Kwa kweli!’ (‘For real!’) It was that way. If you’re a little bit lighter, then you’re Mzungu, automatically. Maneuvering around this perceived identity, the learner pretended not to know English. Professing to know only Spanish and Swahili seemed to do the trick: At the beginning, people tried to switch to English, if I made a question, in Swahili they tried to respond to me in English. But I continued to ask them in Swahili, so ‘okay you can understand more than this’ so they switched again to Swahili and that feels nice because, you know, more, I don't’ know what is, they’re, the concept or ideas about Mzungu that comes to Africa, and whatever, but, eh, I think that people tried to be nice. I think that people tried to be nice, and greet in Swahili, but because they don’t—I don't know, it’s difficult to continue speaking in Swahili, so people most of the time change to English. But I said, ‘No, I don’t know English! I speak Spanish. Can you speak in Spanish?’ ((laughs)) ‘But if you don’t know Spanish then we can continue in Swahili!’ ((laughs)) That’s what I always said to people. 181 Back in Mexico City, there was a different sort of racialized stereotyping going on. As one learner told me, Mexicans had certain negative ideas about Cubans based on the notion that Cubans were typically darker-skinned than Mexicans, because of their African heritage. These ideas intersected with common Mexican views on the study of Africa, making it a relatively not so popular subject in local universities. Learning in the Community. As one community stakeholder shared sometime after the evening Swahili-language course, which concluded in mid-October, the popular conceptions of Africa in the views of Mexicans tended to be quite disparaging, invoking images of ‘guerra’ (war), ‘genocidio’ (genocide), and ‘hambre’ (hunger). This community member’s statement reveals that a negative perception of Africa is fairly entrenched in Mexican society. Another stakeholder in the evening language course shared some observations that lend support to this assessment of Africa’s position in the Mexican mindset. Selected excerpts from interviews with community learners are detailed in Table 3 below. In these remarks, the learners’ acute awareness of Swahili being an East African language (likely enhanced as a result of participation in the evening language class) is highlighted by their short laugh accompanying the recollection of Swahili as being the only African language appropriated in movies they have seen. There is something odd about this; that Africa is presented as undifferentiated is an affront to its probable linguistic diversity, which at the very least, is a diversity that should manifest at the regional level. 182 Figure 17. 'Curso Taller introductorio de swahili en el Senado' (Introductory Swahili workshop course at the Senate). Mexico City, Mexico. 9 October 2011. ! Figure 18. 'II Semana de África' (2nd Africa Week). Mexico City, Mexico. 7 April 2011. ! 183 Table 3. Excerpts from interviews with Mexico City participants (community learners and stakeholders). Select Comments 1. Stakeholder #1 […] si tú les preguntas, ‘¿Qué palabras se viven en la mente si piensa en África?’ Te van a decir ‘guerra’. E:: ‘genocidio’. ‘Hambre’. Entonces, hay una imagen negativa de África en la—en el común de la gente Mexicana. ([…] if you ask them, ‘What words [are] alive in the mind if you think about Africa?’ They are going to say ‘war’. E:: ‘genocide’. ‘Hunger’. So then, there is a negative image of Africa in the—in the collective of the Mexican people.) 2. Learner #2 […] la gente no sabe qué es el swahili, que existe y que es como un idioma muy importante en África:: [.] este:: [.] y:: […] a veces te dice y ¿Por qué estudias swahili? [.] Hay no te va a servir para nada [.] pero no al contrario [.] empiezas tu [.] tu acervo cultural [.] y claro que es muy importante y sí, difundirlo. Sí para que la gente sepa qué e::s [.] el swahili. ([…] people don’t know what Swahili is, that it exists and that it is like a very important language in East [.] Africa [.] and […] sometimes [they] say [to] you and ‘Why do you study Swahili? There [is nothing] that is going to serve you at all’ [.] but [it’s] to the 184 Table 3 (cont’d) 2. Learner #2 (cont’d) contrary [.] you are beginning your [.] your cultural orientation [.] and of course that is important and yes, to disseminate it. Yes so that people know what Swahili [.] is.) 3. Learner #1 […] digo finalme::nt:e cuando ves alguna película africana [.] alguna película:: no importa de dónde sea, cuando salen cuestiones el africana (?) [.] el único idioma que sacan es swahili. ((short laugh)) Así sea del norte ó del sur, del centro, del este, siempre hablan swahili.([…] I say finally when you see some African movie [.] some movie it doesn’t matter where it is [taking place], when African issues emerge (?) [.] the only language that they choose is Swahili. ((short laugh)) It’s that way [if it’s] of the north [of Africa] or the south, of the center, the east, always they speak Swahili.) Ethnographic Vignette #1: ‘Waarabu ni wakorofi’ On a February day, some 50 minutes into the morning class period, the Mexico City Swahili-language class is finishing up with their review of the lyrics to ‘Africa Tupendane’ (Africa Let’s Love One Another), a bilingual Swahili-English song by Saida Koroli (2005). They 185 have listened to the song several times as they read through lyrics and completed a Spanish translation of the lyrics as a group, led by their instructor. As the next segment of talk begins, a learner, Ana, makes an observation about the use of uppercase in Swahili, saying: ‘Eso sigue como inglés, ¿No?’ (line 2 below) (That goes/follows like English, right?). The teacher replies in lines 4-5 in Spanish, that yes, this is exactly why they were reviewing that information, and making those corrections to their translations. The teacher goes on to make another comment in Spanish, and then after a lengthy pause, concludes the previous conversation with ‘Bueno’ (line 11 below) (Okay/good). Immediately afterwards, the teacher continues in Swahili by asking if there are any questions about the song they have just worked on: ‘Maswali yo yote?’ (line 11 below) (Any questions?). As this vignette unfolds, it illustrates how Spanish, Swahili, and English figure into classroom talk, as well as how learners are expected by their teacher demonstrate their knowledge of particular Swahili vocabulary as well as interaction skills in the language. Additionally, this sequence of talk shows how learners felt free to ask questions, make playful comments, and state opinions in any of the three languages. Excerpt 20: 1 2 T: Mm::hmm.// Ana: //Eso sigue como inglés, ¿no? Que:: siempre van en mayúsculas las That goes/follows like English, right? That always they’re going in upper case the 3 nacionalidades. E[n español, no. nationalities. In Spanish, no. 186 4 T: [Sí. Es justamente por eso que yo estoy Yes. It’s exactly 5 because [of] that that I am haciendo eso. Sí. [2.0] ((faint)) Como te . doing that. Yes. As you 6 S: Mmhmm. [5.0] 7 T: ((normal volume)) No, es una cosa interesante muchas veces en No, it’s an interesting thing many 8 times in libros viejos de la época colonial. Porque era una fricción entre:: old books of/from the colonial period. Because it was a friction between 9 las colonias franceses, y [ingleses en—en la redacción. the French colonies, and English [ones] in—in the wording/drafting. 10 11 Ana: [Mm. T: [4.5] Bueno. Maswali yo yote? Kuhusu wimbo wa ‘Africa Okay/good. Any questions? Concerning/about [the] song ‘Africa 12 Tupendane’? [2.0] Tupendane’? 13 Xim: Na:: jambo hilo la interview, la mwalimu mpya ya mashariki ya And that thing of [the] interview, of [the] new teacher of East of 187 14 magharib[i ya jana (?) West 15 T: of yesterday (?) [Gah! Oh era ¡un disastre! Jana hi: iyo mahojiano, Gah! Oh it was a disaster! Yesterday that interview, 16 shida ilikuwa kwamba, [3.0] ma(l)inganisho yake kule:: Holandi, [the] problem was that, 17 18 his [connection] over there [in] Holland, Ana: Hm. T: ilikuwa haifai. it [wasn’t working/going well]. Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 1 February 2011, lines 1-18 After the teacher’s exchange with Ana in Spanish, the language of the classroom switches into Swahili, led by the teacher’s use of Swahili to ask if there are any questions about the song they were earlier discussing. Instead of responding to the teacher’s question, Ximena (Xim) continues in the use of Swahili to enter into the talk with a query of her own, related to the events of the previous day, when a job candidate from Holland was interviewing for a position at the university in Middle Eastern studies. To refer to the interview, Ximena uses the English word ‘interview’ (line 13 above), maneuvering around the Swahili equivalent, perhaps because she did not know it, by producing the phrase ‘jambo hilo la interview’ (line 13) (that thing of [the] interview). Even as the Swahili word for interview was absent from this statement, the asking of the question proves to be successful, for the teacher directly avidly responds in line 15, overlapping, in fact, with Ximena’s utterance. This response comes in Spanish at first, followed by statement in Swahili, with the use of Swahili perhaps inspired by Ximena’s previous use of 188 the language. As the teacher explained, the problem with the interview the day before was that the internet connection in Holland was poor. These details are explained using the Swahili word for interview, ‘mahojiano’ (line 15), potentially serving as an implicit error correction of the learner’s earlier use of the English ‘interview’ (line 13). As this segment of talk shows, the initial use of Spanish in the Swahili-language class to comment metalinguistically on the features of Swahili (correct usage of uppercase for proper nouns) transitions into a use of Swahili instigated by the language teacher, and continued by a learner (Ximena) interested in the details of a recent event at the university. In the teacher’s response continues to Ximena’s question (below), Swahili maintains its position as the language of narrative details, though its position in the talk is interrupted by English discourse markers (line 59) and a pause to check for comprehension of a Swahili word via its Spanish translation. A switch into Spanish by the teacher in line 72 after a pause (possibly because the necessary word came to mind in Spanish before anything else) leads to an ongoing use of Spanish in the comments that follow. Although this is somewhat curious because the teacher uses the Swahili word for page, ‘ukurasa’ (line 71) in the previous statement. Excerpt 21: 59 T: Right. And mwishowe, tulichofanya, ni kwamba profesa mmoja Right. And finally [in the end], what we did, is that one professor 60 ali [.] alisoma nakala yake, ambayo ilikuwa anataka ku [.] kutoa siku s/he read [.] s/he read his article, which he wanted to [.] to give 61 hiyo. Kwa sababu hata hivyo alikuwa anasoma tu, nakala yake, that day. Because even though s/he was just reading, his article, 189 62 ‘nakala’? Mna:: mnaelewa? ‘article’? [Do] you all understand? 63 Ana: Mmhmm. 64 Nat: Arti Arti 65 T: ‘Artículo’. Algo escrito. Mmhmm. Kwa hivyo, mwishowe, ali— ‘Article’. Something written. Mmhmm. Therefore, finally [in the end], s/he 66 alianza kusoma. Lakini, [2.0] angalia. Jambo moja ambalo [.] s/he started to read. But, 67 look. One thing which litawasaidia mkienda mkijiweka sokoni, ((quieter)) tunavyosema kwa will help you all if you all go if you all put yourself on the market, ((quieter)) as we say in 68 Kiingere[za. English. 69 Ana: 70 [((short laugh)) T: [2.0] ((normal voice)) Ukienda kufanya e::: hotuba kwa njia ya If you go to do/make e::: [a] a speech 71 kuomba kazi, tengeneza kitu cha ukurasa kumi na mbili, [.] au chini [job talk], [prepare] something of twelve [pages], 72 ya idadi hiyo. [1.5] págin—doce páginas o menos. [than] that amount. [1.5] pag—twelve pages or less. 190 or less 73 Ana: Mmhmm. 74 T: ¿Por qué? Porque la gente no van a escuchar.// Why? Because people aren’t going to listen. 75 Ana: //Mmhmm. 76 T: Este hombre, escribió un artículo de dieciocho páginas. This man/guy, he wrote an article of eighteen pages. 77 Ana: Mmhmm. Claro. Mmhmm. [I see/of course]. 78 T: Con un video de once minutos. Imagínate. Eso es más de una With a video of eleven minutes. Imagine. 79 That’s more than an hora de escuchar y ver una película. hour of listening and watching a film. 80 Ana: Mm. Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 1 February 2011, lines 59-80 Once the teacher slips out of relating the details of the job candidate’s unfortunate interview, Spanish is used to didactically impart upon the learners some a strategy for success should they ever go on the academic job market: to keep their job talks to a reasonable minimum. In fact, the English-language phrase of putting oneself of the job market is translated literally into Swahili by the teacher as a bit of a joke in line 67 above. This phrase ‘mkijiweka sokoni’ is signaled as a literal translation by the teacher’s aside that immediately follows it, with a quieter tone of voice, ‘tunavyosema kwa Kiingereza’ (lines 67-68) (as we say in English). In this remark, the teacher identifies with the tu of the verb, labeling theirself as a English-speaker. Overlapping with the 191 finish of this aside is some laughter from Ana, validating the teacher’s venture as humorous. Later on, it is also Ana who actively listens to the teacher remarks, with ‘Mmhmm’ (line 73, 75, 77), ‘Claro’ (line 77), and ‘Mm’ (line 80). In the next segment of talk, after the teacher’s continued instructions to the learners regarding job talks (lines 122-126 below), Ximena asks question in Swahili about the unfortunate job candidate from Holland. The teacher’s response in Swahili leads to another check for word comprehension (line 136), and metalinguistic commentary on the word’s grammatical features (lines 139-142). Excerpt 22: 122 T: Sí. Y—y tienen que preguntar que quieren, que tipo de Yes. And—and you all have to ask what they want, what type of 123 presentación quieren. ¿Quieren una presentación de una hora presentation they want. [Do] they want a presentation of an hour 124 o de u::n—un—una media hora? ¿O que? Para aclarar todo, of of a:: —a—a half hour? Or what? In order to clarify everything, 125 porque si no, [2.0] puede ser un disastre. Y también, tú tienes because if not, 126 que intentar una conexión antes. to 127 it can be a disaster. And also, try [the] connection before. Ana: Mmhmm. 192 you have 128 Xim: Na yeye u::h, lakini, yeye ni mwalimu wa Holanzi, aliy[e—aliyetaka And he u::h, but, he’s teacher of/from Hollands, who—who wanted 129 kufundisha hapa? to teacher here? 130 T: [Ni:: ni mtu He’s he’s [a] person 32 131 wa Lebanon ambaye alikuwa hapa. Alikuwa anafundisha ---- , [.] of/from Lebanon who was here. He was teaching [a] ----, 132 Xim: Oh. 133 T: kwa miaka mengi. Na: tulichosikia hatuna hatuwezi for many years. And what we heard we [didn’t] have we [couldn’t] 134 kumuuliza yeye wala, siyo rahisi kumuuliza mabosi wake kule ask him except, it wasn’t easy to ask him his bosses over there 135 33 34 ---- , ali:korofishana na:: [.] na watu huko ---- . [2.0] [at] ----, he was troublesome with [.] with people there [at] ----. [2.0] !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 32 Some identifying information elided from this transcript. Specifically, it was the name of the job candidate’s previous institution. 33 See note above. 34 See note above. 193 136 ‘Korofishana’? ¿Qué significa? [3.0] ‘To be troublesome with one another’? What does [it] mean? 137 Nat: Mm. [6.0] 138 S: 139 T: Es la forma reciproca de: ‘korofisha’, [.] que casi no se usa. It’s the reciprocal form of ‘korofisha’, 140 which almost isn’t used. ‘Korofishana’. [11.0 ((stamps feet on floor impatiently))] ‘Korofishana’. 141 Nat: Pero, tiene algo que ver con ‘mikorofi’. But, 142 it has something do with ‘tyranny’. T: Mmhmm. ‘Mkorofi’. [2.0] Mmhmm. ‘Troublemaker/Troublesome person’. 143 Nat: Yo recuerdo que vimos ‘mkorofi’, pero ahora no recuerdo [.] si I remember that we saw ‘troublesome person’, but now I don’t remember [.] if 144 era, creo que era una mala persona, ¿no? [1.0] it was, I think that it was a bad person, right? 145 T: Sí:, es algo de [.] de malo. Well, a veces, es algo de malo. Puede Yes, it’s something of [.] of [a] bad [nature. Well, sometimes, it’s something of [a] bad [nature]. It can 146 ser—sí tú tienes razón, no es de—de malo. [1.0] be—yes you [you’re right], it’s not of—of [a] bad [nature]. [1.0] 194 147 S: Mm. 148 T: [5.0 ((stamps feet on floor impatiently))] 149 150 Nat: ((reading from dictionary)) ‘Korofisha. Exasperate. Make a mess.’ [1.0] Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 1 February 2011, lines 122-150 Again, it can be observed here how all metalinguistic commentary on the Swahili language takes place in Spanish, beginning with ‘¿Qué significa?’ (line 136) (What does [it] mean?). After a lengthy pause (line 137), and a possible, though inaudible attempt (line 138), the teacher hedges with a hint, ‘Es la form reciproca de: “korofisha”’ (line 139) (It’s the reciprocal form of ‘korofisha’), encouraging word analysis. The next speculations by Natalia (Nat) in lines 141 and 143-144 as to the meaning of -korofishana are all well and good, and the teacher plays along (line 142, 145-146), but what is really wanted is a clear definition of the word. This is finally 35 produced by Natalia in line 149, who reads from the TUKI Swahili-English dictionary, p. 161: ‘“Korofisha. Exasperate. Make a mess.”’. The teacher’s impatience leading up to this definition is palpable in the stamping of feet, showing that it is expected that the learners know this vocabulary. If they really do not know these words, they are expected to look up their meanings in the dictionaries at their disposal. In the continuation of this talk, the teacher displays satisfaction with the Englishlanguage definition that has been read aloud by Natalia, reworking it lines 151-152 (below) into a Spanish description of the meaning of ‘M(u)korofi’ or Mkorofi. Then, the teacher enacts an Mkorofi, a person that is very argumentative, ‘Que siempre quiere pelear’ (line 154 ) (Who !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 35 TUKI is a common abbreviation for Taasisi ya Uchunguzi wa Kiswahili, or the Institute for Swahili Research, located in Dar es Salaam. 195 always wants to fight), by mimicking the banter of this type of person as they pick an imaginary fight (line 154). Excerpt 23: 151 T: Yeah, literalmente. ‘M(u)korofi’? Una persona m(u)korofi es una Yeah, literally. ‘Troublemaker/Troublesome person’? A person m(u)korofi is a 152 persona muy argumentativo. very argumentative person. 153 Ana: Mm.// 154 T: //Que siempre quiere pelear. ‘¡¿Qué dices?! Da:: de nana’ Who always wants to fight. ‘What’re you saying?! Give de nana [no meaning]’ 155 ((mimicking banter)) Incluso cuando la gente no están diciendo Including when people aren’t saying 156 nada malo, pero anything bad, but 157 158 Ss: ((laughs)) Nat: Es una palabra nueva para el Mwalimu. It’s a new word 159 for the Teacher. T: Sí. [3.0] ((clears thro[at exaggeratedly)) Yes. 160 Ss: [((laughs)) 196 161 T: ‘Mtu wa juu juu!’ pia ina—inatumika huko uko Dar. Ni mtu amba[ye ‘Person [on tippy top]!’ also it’s—it’s used over there [specifically in] Dar. It’s [a] person who 162 Nat: [Yo I 163 no he dicho qué mwalimu. haven’t said which teacher. 164 T: kila wakati [.] quiere estar encima a los demás. Y no importa por every time 165 wants to be on top [of] others. And it doesn’t matter for qué. [1.0] El único. ‘Kukorofishana’ es [.] tener un [1.0] what. The only [one]. ‘To be troublesome with another person’ it’s [.] to have a [1.0] 166 disputo [2.0] co[n una otra persona. [dispute] 167 Ana: with another person. [¿Di Disputarse? Di To dispute/compete with another? Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 1 February 2011, lines 150-167 To further communicate what noun M(u)korofi means, the teacher produces the phrase ‘una persona m(u)korofi’ (line 151 above), fixing the Swahili word into an post-nominal position in a Spanish grammatical frame, as an adjective. This ‘una persona m(u)korofi’ is subsequently animated by the teacher as someone who picks a fight, someone who is potentially argumentative for no real reason, ‘incluso cuando la gente no están diciendo nada malo’ (lines 197 155-156) (Including when people aren’t saying anything bad). With this bit of acting, the teacher’s behavior is seen as comical by the learners, who respond with laughter (line 157). Then, Natalia seizes the the next conversational turn to kid with the teacher, saying that this M(u)korofi is a new word for ‘el Mwalimu’, the Teacher (line 158), potentially because she views the teacher as an assertive person. Natalia’s statement is interpreted as sarcastic, as the teacher issues their own sarcasm in response, ‘Sí’ (line 159), along with an exaggerated clearing of the throat. This is met with laughter from the learners in line 160. However, the joke continues when Natalia goes on to say ‘Yo no he dicho qué mwalimu’ (lines 162-163) with the teacher’s eventual, delayed response in line 165, ‘El único’ (The only one), referring to themself, the only teacher in the room. The ‘una persona m(u)korofi’ is also explained by the teacher through a reference to an expression used in ‘Dar’ (line 161), a routine moniker for Dar es Salaam. In the end, the meaning of the verb Kukorofishana in its infinitival form (with the Ku- prefix), is outlined in Spanish as tener un disputo con una otra persona (lines 165-166), to have a dispute with another person. In this statement, the teacher uses ‘un disputo’ (lines 165-166), which potentially displays the teacher’s L2 capacity in the language, for the more common way of referring to a dispute in Spanish is to use una disputa (the teacher later corrects theirself in line 168 below). The talk that overlaps this last statement from the teacher comes from Ana as she verifies the meaning or translation of Kukorofishana as ‘Disputarse’ (line 167). In the continuation of the exchange (lines 168-169) the teacher responds to Ana, using Spanish in verifying her translation as correct, and then after a pause goes on to use Swahili to return to the story of the troublesome job candidate, saying ‘Kwa hivi, alikorofishana’ (Therefore/in this way, he was troublesome with others). The teacher then continues to use Swahili to describe how, at some point (the timing is 198 not specified) the job search committee heard that as a result of the stereotyping of Arabs and Muslims following the events of September 11, 2011 (attacks on the U.S.), the job candidate, being an Arab or a Muslim, could have been perceived more argumentative than he may have really been (lines 171-173). Excerpt 24: 168 T: Disputa. Sí. Disputarse. Y ser muy argumentativo. [1.5] Kwa Dispute. Yes. To dispute/compete with another. And to be very argumentative. [1.5] 169 hivi, alikorofishana. Therefore/in this way, he was troublesome with others. 170 Ana: Mmhmm. 171 T: Na, tuli:sikia kwamba ilikuwa baada ya [.] ya ‘nine-eleven’. [2.0] Kwa And, we heard that 172 it was after ‘nine-eleven’. hivyo, mambo ya siasa na kwa vile ile ni Mwaarabu, Mwislamu:, labda. Therefore, [the] things of politics and [just] like that it’s Arab, Muslim, perhaps. 173 Hatujui. We don’t know. 174 Ana: Mm. Ilivyokuwa. Nafikiri watu::, nafikiri Waarabu ni:: ni wakorofi.// Mm. As it was. 175 I think people, I think Arabs T: //N[o:! No. 199 are are troublesome.// 176 Ana: [Kwa kawaida. Usually/typically. 177 T: No. No, th:: th [.] 178 Ana: Por lo menos los que conozco. At least the [ones] who I know. 179 T: Sikubali kwa sababu mimi nilipokuwa Marekani baada ya ‘nineI don’t agree because when I was 180 [in the] U.S./America after ‘nine- eleven’ nilikuwa na marafiki watatu. eleven’ I had three friends. 181 Ana: Mm. 182 T: Wawili wa Tunisia, na mmoja wa:: wa:: wa [.] Maghreb. Wa Morocco. Two of/from Tunisia, and one of/from of/from of/from [.] [the] Maghreb. Of/from Morocco. 183 Ana: Mmhmm. 184 T: Na:: siyo wakorofi. And they’re not troublesome. 185 Ana: Hm. Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 1 February 2011, lines 168-185 Following the description of the how the events of ‘nine-eleven’ (line 171 above) may have played an indirect role in the job candidate’s experience, a speech event is initiated by Ana who endeavors to use the newly explained word M(u)korofi in its plural form as ‘wakorofi’ (line 174). 200 She accomplishes this by sharing her view that Arabs are troublesome: ‘nafikiri Waarabu ni:: ni wakorofi’ (line 174) (I think Arabs are are troublesome). Ana succeeds in communicating her point of view, and even as she draws an immediate rejoinder from the teacher, she persists in qualifying her statement first in Swahili (line 176) and then further in Spanish (line 178). The teacher jumps on her first statement, latching on with ‘No:! No’ (line 175), followed by ‘No. No’ again, along with the beginnings of some English words, ‘th:: th’ (line 177), possibly on the way to producing the or there. Then the teacher uses Swahili to respond to Ana’s viewpoint earlier stated in Swahili—Arabs are not troublesome, ‘siyo wakorofi’ (line 184), because they were the teacher’s friends (line 180, 182). In this speech event, which continues below, Ana is able to demonstrate competence in Swahili to some degree by producing grammatically correct statements to express and later, qualify her viewpoint. Throughout this event, and indeed, in its remainder, Swahili is used in a narrative capacity by speakers to describe experiences they were a party to, and views that they have. The use of subject prefixes on verbs (tu- [we], na- [I], ni- [I]) illustrate this. In the final segment of this speech event (also the conclusion of this vignette) below, Ana continues to explain her viewpoint in Swahili from a defensive position, backing away from her previous specification of Arabs to ‘Watu’ (line 209) (people). But the teacher does not let up, further impressing upon Ana that to call people—any people—wakorofi is to say that they are bad, ‘wabaya’ (line 211). 201 Excerpt 25: 206 Ana: No ((short laugh)) uh, sisemi::, sisemi:: kwamba wao ni watu No 207 uh, I’m not saying, I’m not saying that they are wabaya, nisema: [.] bad people, I say 208 T: Well, lakini kama ukise[ma ni wakorofi36, Well, but if you say they’re troublesome, 209 Ana: [Watu ni:: wakorofi. People are troublesome. 210 T: u—no. Ukimwambia, ukisema kwamba watu ni—ni wakorofi, you—no. If you tell her/him, if you say that people are—are troublesome, 211 una—unasema ni kwamba watu ni wabaya. you’re—you’re saying it’s that people are bad. 212 213 Ana: Oh. T: Mkorofi ni [.] mtu mbaya. [A] troublemaker/troublesome person is [.] [a] bad person. 214 Ana: No. Sí tienes razón. Usemi kit—U—usemi:[: No. Yes [you’re right]. You don’t say someth—you—you don’t say !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 36 In this position in the utterance following the copula ni, ‘wakorofi’ can also be potentially interpreted as a noun, troublesome people or troublemakers, in addition to being an adjective, troublesome. 202 215 Xim: [Ulivyosema. As you said. 216 T: M::yeah. Ni kawaida—ka[waida, kawaida utatumia M::yeah. It’s typical/normal—typical/normal, typical/normal you will use 217 Ana: [Nilivyosema. ((short laugh)) As I said. 218 T: ‘korofi’ kwa mtu ambaye ana haki. troublesome for [a] person who [deserves it]. 219 Xim: Mmhmm. Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 1 February 2011, lines 206-219 All throughout this vignette the teacher has maintained their position as expert Swahili-speaker within the classroom, both in terms of grammatical and lexical knowledge, as well as in the display of narrative ability, and the mentioning of colloquial language used in Dar es Salaam. This final segment is no exception to the previously established norm, and in this talk the teacher asserts their competence in the knowledge of the culturally appropriate implications of the term wakorofi (troublesome/troublemakers). Still, it could be that Ana had chosen to use wakorofi as a descriptor because of the teacher’s earlier assertion that Kukorofishana was not something of a bad nature, ‘sí tú tienes razón, no es de—de malo’ (line 146 above). Ana’s ‘Oh’ (line 212) could denote this potential confusion. Being put on the defensive, Ana tries to lighten up the situation, aided by Ximena in producing overlapping talk in 217, followed by a short laugh. Either way, 203 Ana shows acknowledgement of the teacher’s viewpoint, in another display of Swahili-language competence. The entirety of this vignette from the Mexico City classroom provides an example of the typical talk that occurred between structured activities in the class. These episodes of talk, largely dominated by the teacher, provided incidental teaching moments, which were facilitated through the use of Spanish. Outside of these metalinguistic uses of Spanish, the use of Swahili manifested in the narrative relating of previous events and personal views. The teacher, neither a native speaker of Swahili or Spanish, can be viewed as having demonstrated competence in both languages throughout, additionally displaying cultural authenticity in Swahili through the relating of how the phrase ‘Mtu wa juu juu!’ (line 161) is normally used in ‘Dar’, for Dar es Salaam. The teacher is also a speaker of English, frequently peppering Spanish and Swahili with English discourse markers, and displaying authenticity in English through the jocular phrasing ‘mkijiweka sokoni’ (if you all put yourselves on the market), followed by the use of we in ‘tunavyosema kwa Kiingereza’ (lines 67-68). In all of this, the teacher’s seamless movement between first Spanish, then Swahili, and English (in brief utterances), would seem to support the observation that there is no set, prescriptive rule in the class requiring the use of one language over the other during this unstructured talk, except for conversational circumstances. Some Closing Observations This purpose of this chapter has been to provide situated details of each research context in this ethnographic study among relevant sociohistorical background information. This has served to illustrate a link between the Dar es Salaam and Mexico City classrooms by showing how the two contexts are connected through historical pathways in knowledge production 204 concerning the study of Africa, as well as through the use of Dar es Salaam materials (TUKI dictionary) in Mexico City, and the mention of a Dar es Salaam colloquialism in Mexico City. Across these two contexts are examples of the normative practice in two advanced-level Swahili classes, one being highly monolingual, the other multilingual. Though the norms of learner participation vary (Mexico City learners do not give presentations in class, or formally facilitate class discussions), in both classrooms, the teacher is seen to maintain an expert role, particularly in the realm of culturally appropriate language knowledge and understanding of the language situation in Tanzania. In the next chapter of this study, I explore additional examples of normative classroom activity in both contexts, drawing upon excerpts from beginning and intermediate language courses in Dar es Salaam, and further excerpts from classes led by the two Mexico City instructors. Encapsulated within ethnographic vignettes, as was done here in this chapter, those examples assist in providing an even more holistic view of classroom activity as situated practice in the university and city. 205 Chapter 3 Transregional Parallels: Intersecting Displays of Multilingual Competence in the Language Classroom Y aquí, imagínate si hubiera alguien que no supiera inglés. Por lo menos comprender inglés simple y sencillamente no podría llevar acabo la maestría. Ni aprender swahili porque e::h los libros que llevamos están en inglés para swahili. (Mexico City, Interview with Jazmín, 4 November 2010, lines 761-764) Mmhmm—ndiyo, ni—ni vizuri wana Kiingereza kwanza, tuwa—tunapata taabu tunapofundisha wanafunzi wa—tulikuwa tulifundisha wanafunzi wa Libya, wanafunzi wa Ujerumani, wanafunzi wa Italia, wanafunzi wa Scandanavian countries. Tunapata shida kidogo. Kwa sababu wengine wanakuwa na Kiingereza chao siyo vizuri sana. (Dar es Salaam, Interview with Program Administrator #2, 23 November 2011, lines 190-196) Introduction The purpose of this chapter is to provide a comparative sketch of the relationships among participants in each research context within this transregional ethnography of communication. Each research context respectively encompasses the setting of the classroom and its intersection with the linguistic landscape of its urban university. In this chapter, each setting is described through the presentation of five anecdotes of classroom talk-in-interaction contextualized by rich, descriptive talk from interviews with individual stakeholders, in addition to fieldnotes. 206 Ethnographic vignettes from the Dar es Salaam and Mexico City classrooms are presented in alternating order to highlight parallels in language use, including codeswitching, and priorities in the linguistic display of social identity. Though the fieldwork for this study began with participant observation in Mexico City (2010-2011), the stories of language learning uncovered through this work show Dar es Salaam (2011-2012) to be the starting place for the acquisition and dissemination of Swahili through language learning materials and linguistic training, which ultimately enables the teaching and learning of the language in the Mexico City classroom. Dar es Salaam is also regarded within these stories as a central location in the Swahiliphone World, and a growing urban reality that continues to project ownership over modern Swahili by providing a model for the speaking and writing of Standard Swahili. For these reasons, this chapter begins with details of the Dar es Salaam classroom. This chapter proceeds first with a vignette from Dar es Salaam, Bit vs. Bite, which enables a discussion of codeswitching as related to the use of English for communicative purposes within the teaching of Swahili. Next, ‘Mimi Ninafurahi Sana Sana Sana’ focuses upon the Mexico City classroom, illustrating how learners are able to demonstrate communicative competence in Swahili, facilitated by their teacher’s continual use of Swahili. Then, ‘Do You Know “Kunya”?’ expands upon the themes presented in the discussion this chapter’s first vignette, presenting an example of how English is used in the teaching of Swahili to a group of learners who are all L2 speakers of English in Dar es Salaam. ‘Swahili Tafadhali’ is the fourth and final vignette, and returns to Mexico City to illustrate a contrast to the second vignette, presenting an exchange that occurred wherein the use of Swahili was specifically requested by the teacher, but also later abandoned by the same teacher in favor of Spanish. 207 Ethnographic Vignette #1: Bit vs. Bite in Dar es Salaam In this beginning-level Swahili classroom, on a warm, humid afternoon at the university, the Tanzanian teacher begins class by speaking directly to the seven students present, telling them, ‘Haya, leo tunaangalia kidogo recent past’ (line 1 below) (Okay/well, today we’re looking [a] little [bit] at recent past). All of the students, except two from Finland, are from the U.S. It is now the first week of November, and this is their fourth week of class on Swahili language, and after having selected Swahili names on the first day of class, participating learners are now 1 referred to as Akida (A), Chausiku (Ch), and Faki (F) by their peers and by the teacher (T). This extended vignette provides a glimpse of key classroom activities in translation and teacherstudent discourse, illustrating the language learning experience to be constructed through the use of both Swahili and English in the classroom. Excerpt 1: 1 T: Haya, leo tunaangalia kidogo:2 recent past. Tuone how do Okay/well, today we’re looking [a] little [bit] at [the] recent past. Let’s see/We should see how do 2 you express some things. Maybe in the recent past. 3 Baada—baadaye, tutaangalia noun classes, and verbal After—afterwards, we will see noun classes, and verbal 4 agreement—and the way they take verbal agreement. 5 First, I told you we have a number of noun classes in !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 1 All learners took on Swahili names, but learners who were unidentifiable in the audio are labeled as ‘S1’ and ‘S2’, and so on. 2 See Appendix for transcription conventions. 208 6 Swahili. And always when you are speaking Swahili, you 7 have at least to—to construct the sentences that agree 8 with the verb, the—the noun. The noun you are using. 9 The name , kwa hiyo:, let’s begin with the: recent therefore, 10 past because it’s the only tense that we haven’t covered, 11 and then we can, proceed with the others. [1.0] For 12 T: example, I know some might have some idea. [3.0] 13 ((writing on chalkboard)) ‘My test’. Nani anaweza Who can 14 kusema? Kwa Kiswahili? [2.0] say? In Swahili? 15 S1: You can use ‘fanya’? What verb do you use? ‘make/do’? 16 S2: ‘Mimi nimefanya’. [.] ‘Nimefanya’. ‘I have made/done’. ‘I have made/done’. 17 T: Mmhmm. Mm. ‘Mimi nimefanya’ [1.5] or you can just infix Mmhmm. Mm. ‘I have made/done’ 18 the ‘mimi’. ‘Mimi nimefanya:’. What is ‘test’? [1.0] ‘I’. ‘I have made/done’. 209 19 S3: Sijui. I don’t know. 20 T: A::::h! [2.0] ((writing on chalkboard)) ‘Jaribio. Langu.’ ‘My test.’ Dar es Salaam, Beginning Swahili class, 2 November 2011, lines 1-20 By this point in the semester, the learners have already acquired highly salient phrases in Swahili like the formulaic expression ‘Sijui’ (line 19 above), which a learner uses to communicate I don’t know in response to the teacher’s question ‘What is “test”?’ (line 18). The response of Sijui shows that the learner understood the teacher’s request as asking for a translation. This is confirmed by what the teacher writes on the chalkboard after this response of Sijui: ‘Jaribio’ (line 20). Along with the use of English in class for communicative purposes, this indicates the teacher’s interest in cultivating productive knowledge of Swahili through a grammar-translation approach. At the start of the class, the teacher’s initial statements incorporate metalinguistic terminology from English to describe ‘noun classes’ and ‘verbal agreement’ in Swahili (lines 3-4), most likely using English because the learners have not been taught the Swahili terminology. Swahili phrases figure into these initial English statements as connectors or discourse markers, as in ‘Tuone’ (line 1) (Let’s see/We should see), and ‘kwa hiyo’ (line 9) (therefore). While there is no indication of any specific request from the students to use English, these initial statements from teacher and continued dual-language use throughout the class period illustrate how the use of English was an unmarked or normative linguistic behavior in the Swahili-language classroom. 210 Excerpt 2: 100 T: ((writing on chalkboard)) [1.0] ‘Leo mimi nimekasirika sana.’ Oh, Today I’m very angry. 101 ‘Leo mimi nimefurahi. Sana.’ Oh, ‘Leo mimi nimefurahi.’ Do ‘Today I’m happy. 102 Very.’ Oh, ‘Today I’m happy.’ Do you know ‘furahi’? [1.0] ‘Leo, mimi nimefurahi:: kwa sababu, you know ‘happy’? 103 Oh, ‘Today, I’m happy because, [.] ah, tumepata’ because we have got, or we: have two ah, we’ve got/received’ because we have got, or we have two 104 guests. ‘Leo, mimi nimefurahi sana. Kwa sababu, because, guests. ‘Today, I’m very happy. 105 because, kwa sababu’ Let me write that sentence. It’s a bit long. Because’ 106 Because, Let me write that sentence. It’s a bit long. [13.0] ((writing on chalkboard)) ‘Kwa sababu’, ((writing on ‘Because’, 107 chalkboard)) [3.0] because, today I’m happy, because 108 ‘tumepata’ [2.0] ‘we have received’ or ‘we have got’, ‘we’ve got/received’, [2.0] ‘we have received’ or ‘we have got’, 109 tume—tumepata. ‘Pata’ is ‘to get’. Or ‘to receive’ or ‘to we’ve—we’ve got/received. ‘Get/receive’ is ‘to get’. Or ‘to receive’ or ‘to 211 110 have’, ‘Leo tumepata wageni’. ‘Guests’. ((writing on chalkboard)) have’, ‘Today we’ve got/received guests’. ‘Guests’. 111 ‘Wageni wawili’. [3.0] ‘Leo mimi nimefurahi sana, sana ‘Two guests’. 112 ‘Today I’m very, very sana (!) [.] kwa sababu tumepata wageni wawili’. [2.5] Can very happy (!) [.] because we’ve got/received two guests’. [2.5] Can 113 you tell me what has happened? Today, or maybe: [.] in 114 [today’s class. 115 Ch: [‘Today I was happy 116 T: Yeah? 117 Ch: ‘Today I was happy, very happy, because we ha:ve two [.]’ 118 T: But I want also what has made you happy or sad or anything 119 that happened—anything. To[day. 120 Ch: 121 T: [O:h. I thought you wanted Yeah. Hamna shida. It’s okay. Can you tell me something [No problem]. 212 122 3 that has happened today? O:r, in the recent past(i) ? Dar es Salaam, Beginning Swahili class, 2 November 2011, lines 100-103 In this segment of classroom talk, the teacher is generating sample sentences in Swahili that include the tense marker for the recent past, -me-, using the exemplars of ‘Leo mimi nimekasirika sana’ (line 100 above) and ‘Leo mimi nimefurahi. Sana’ (line 101), denoting anger and happiness, respectively. The latter of these statements becomes extended through the addition of a Swahili conjunction, ‘kwa sababu’ (line 102) (because), a Swahili verb, ‘tumepata’ (line 103), (we’ve got/received) and an English phrase ‘because we have got, or we have two guests’ (lines 103-104), all of which are later produced in the form of their English and Swahili equivalents (lines 106-112). At the conclusion of this procedural translation between English and Swahili, and the writing of the sentence on the chalkboard, the teacher enthusiastically announces the sentence in its entirety, in its Swahili form: ‘Leo mimi nimefurahi sana, sana sana sana (!) [.] kwa sababu tumepata wageni wawili’ (lines 111-112) (Today I’m very, very very very happy (!) [.] because we’ve got/received two guests). After a pause, the teacher then directs a question to the students in English, ‘Can you tell me what has happened?’ (lines 112-113), which appears to be understood by Chausiku as a request to provide an English-language account of the Swahili sentence from before. In other words, a referential question, asking for factual !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 3 During my time in Dar es Salaam, I observed a number of Tanzanian speakers of English (who were also speakers of Swahili) producing some words with additional vowel sounds following the typical consonant ending of an English word. Not all native speakers of Swahili did this, but it was not uncommon, and it likely relates to these speakers’ comfort in producing consonantvowel clusters (CVCV), which are predominant in Bantu languages like Swahili. I represent this speech here by putting these vowel sounds in parentheses on the end of the select word, so that the transcript is readable by someone unfamiliar with how such utterances might otherwise be spelled or represented in the written form. 213 information the teacher does not know, has been interpreted by Chausiku as a request to display her ability to translate. ‘Today I was happy, very happy, because we have two’ (line 117 above). Chausiku’s response can be interpreted as a translation, from Swahili into English, of the earlier Swahili sentence, as her words show how she has been socialized into translation as a normative practice within this community. A native speaker of English, Chausiku has no trouble comprehending the teacher’s previous translations of Swahili. Her use of English in this turn can therefore be seen as a demonstration of Swahili-language competence, through the ability to translate a Swahili sentence into Englih, as well as competence in a valued classroom practice (translation). There is a micropause within Chausiku’s turn, and then the teacher interjects in English, using the words ‘you’ and ‘but’ (line 118), to communicate an interest in hearing a new sentence about Chausiku’s personal experience, probably in Swahili, rather than a translation of the previous Swahili sentence about the two guests. The use of but in particular, initiates a repair sequence, which ultimately leads to Chausiku vocalizing her misunderstanding. Chausiku’s response of ‘Oh. I thought you wanted’ (line 120) displays recognition that she misunderstood the prior request from the teacher. The teacher then returns with ‘Yeah’ (line 122), also displaying some recognition of this misalignment with Chausiku. The teacher declares this not to be a problem, though, first in Swahili with ‘Hamna shida’ and then in English, ‘It’s okay’, enabling a switch back into the language of instruction, English, and the expressing of a more complete request: ‘Can you tell me something that has happened today? Or in the recent past(i)?’ (lines 122-123). Throughout these sequences of interaction, English features predominantly in the speech of both student and teacher for communicative purposes: explaining grammar (lines 17-18), checking for understanding and making requests (lines 15-16, 101-102, 112-113, 121-122), and 214 explaining word meaning (lines 20, 107-110). The result is that Swahili is assigned the role of the analyzed object, the language discussed and imitated, rather than the primary means of communication. The role of Swahili within this class may be the cause of the miscommunication discussed above, in which the learner, Chausiku, does not recognize when she is being asked to answer a real question. Within the teacher’s response (line 121 above) to Chausiku’s recognition of their misaligned understandings of the task as initially requested, the use of Swahili in ‘Hamna shida’ can be interpreted as supplemental to the use of English, for ‘Hamna shida’ is next mirrored in ‘It’s okay’, in a switch back to the language of instruction. This leads into the teacher’s English-language request as a clarification of the task for the learner: ‘Can you tell me something that has happened today? O:r in the recent past(i)?’ (lines 121-122). In the classroom talk leading up the final segment of this vignette, the teacher asks Akida to produce his own example sentence. The dialogue subsequently becomes focused upon the expression of hunger, following Akida’s sentence of ‘Nimeenda kafeteria kwa sababu nimechoka’ (line 129 below) (I went [to the] cafeteria because I [was] tired). Excerpt 3: 128 T: //Or you can tell about somebody who has done maybe 129 something . 130 A: Nimeenda kafeteria kwa sababu nimechoka. I went [to the] cafeteria because I [was] tired. 131 T: Ume[enda kafeteria You went [to the] cafeteria 215 132 A: Kwa sababu nime:—actually, ah what’s A:h! 133 [A:h! Because I was—actually, ah what’s the// 134 T: //‘Nimesikia njaa’. ‘I was hungry/ I felt hunger’. 135 A: ‘Sikia njaa’. Is that what you say ‘to feel hungry’? ‘Feel hungry/hunger’. Is that what you say ‘to feel hungry’? 136 S: ‘Nina njaa’. ‘I’m hungry/I have hunger’. 137 T: ‘Nimesikia’. ‘I felt/heard’. 138 A: You say ‘sikia’. You say ‘feel/hear’. 139 T: ‘Sikia’. ‘Feel/hear’. 140 A: Ndiyo. Yes/Yeah. Dar es Salaam, Beginning Swahili class, 2 November 2011, lines 128-140 Within this exchange there is evidence of Akida in his role as a novice speaker of Swahili. After the teacher uses English (line 128) to encourage Akida to produce a Swahili sentence using the recent past, Akida produces ‘Nimeenda kafeteria kwa sababu nimechoka’ (line 130) (I went [to the] cafeteria because I was tired). However, his talk subsequently overlaps (line 132) with the 216 teacher’s turn when he realizes that he may have mistakenly used nimechoka to refer to his having been hungry in the previous sentence: As the teacher repeats the first part of Akida’s sentence (line 131), perhaps as an elicitation of self-correction, Akida says ‘A:h!’ (line 132), indicating recognition of something—likely that there was a problem with his prior utterance— and initiates a self-correction, but does not know a key word. He then uses English to ask for help. After some negotiation for the appropriate expression, Akida is satisfied with the teacher’s response, and displays his understanding by saying ‘Ndiyo’ (line 139), Yes or Yeah. Through Akida’s initial inquiry (line 132) and subsequent verifications (lines 135, 138), it is revealed that nimechoka (I am tired) does not express hunger, in the way that Akida previously used it, and the alternatives of Nimesikia njaa (I feel hungry) and Nina njaa (I have hunger/I am hungry) are supplied by the teacher (line 134), and another learner (line 136), respectively (though this other learner’s suggestion is not acknowledged by the teacher or Akida). This leads to further discussion of the meaning of these phrases in relation to Ninaumwa njaa (I am bitten [by] hunger/I am hungry), another way of communicating hunger, as supplied by the teacher in line 167 (below). Excerpt 4: 150 T: Kwa sababu ‘nilikuwa na njaa’. ‘Leo nimeenda kafeteria kwa Because 151 ‘I was hungry/I had hunger’. ‘Today I went [to the] cafeteria sababu nilikuwa na njaa’. because I was hungry/I had hunger’. 152 A: Sawa. Okay. 217 153 T: Yeah, that was the . Unaweza kusema hii [.] You can say this 154 A: What’s the difference between ‘jisikia’ and [1.5] what’s the ‘Feel/hear oneself’ 155 verb ‘to feel’? ‘Sikia’? ‘Feel/hear’? 156 T: ‘Sikia’. ‘Feel/hear’. 157 A: Is there a verb that’s like [.] 158 T: But it is also for ‘hearing’. [1.0] ‘Nim[esikia::’ But lots of ‘I’ve heard’ 159 A: [Ndiyo. Yes/Yeah. 160 T: pe—I don’t know the connection, with the Kiswahili word Swahili 161 and so they—for feeling and hearing something, you say 162 ‘sikia’. ‘Nimejisikia njaa’. ‘Nimesikia njaa’. ‘I felt or, I felt ‘feel/hear’. ‘I felt myself hungry/I was hungry’. ‘I felt hungry/I was hungry’. I felt or, I felt 163 hun (?) —hungry’ (?) [5.0] ((writing on chalkboard)) 218 164 Sometimes they say [1.0] ‘njaa’. ‘Ni[na ‘hunger’ ‘I’m 165 A: 166 [Yeah, that’s what I was asking. 167 T: ‘Ninaumwa njaa’. ‘I feel hungry’, sometimes they say, ‘I’m bitten [by] hunger/I’m hungry’. ‘I feel hungry’, sometimes they say, 168 ‘Ninaumwa njaa’. ((writing on board)) You see, ‘uma’ is ‘to ‘I’m bitten [by] hunger/I’m hungry’. 169 You see, ‘bite’ is ‘to bite’ or ‘to [.] uma. ((writing on board)) [4.0] How do you bite’ or ‘to [.] bite’. 170 How do you pronounce this word, sorry? 171 S1: Bite? 172 T: Yeah. ‘To bite’. [It’s ‘uma’. ‘bite’. 173 S1: [There’s an ‘e’. 174 S2: ((faint)) There’s an ‘e’. 175 T: B-i-t? [O:r? 176 S1: [B-i-t-e. 177 T: Bite(y). ((taps on board)) And this one? 178 Ss: Yeah. 219 179 T: So, I thought it’s just ‘b-i-t’. [.] Okay, ‘uma’ is ‘to bite’, ‘bite’ 180 now, I don’t know the appropriate word. Is it biting in the 181 stomach? 182 Ss: ((laughs)) 183 T: ‘Njaa’. ‘Ninaumwa njaa’. ((writing on board)) [3.5] ‘I’m ‘Hunger’. ‘I’m bitten by hunger/I’m hungry’. 184 ‘I’m feeling hun—hungry’. ‘I’m feeling hungry’. ((more 185 T: casually)) ‘Ninaumwa njaa’. Au ‘ninasikia njaa’. ‘Leo ‘I’m bitten by hunger/I’m hungry’. Or ‘I feel hungry/I’m hungry’. ‘Today 186 nimeenda kafeteria kwa sababu, nimesikia njaa’. [2.0] I went [to the] cafeteria because, I felt hungry/I was hungry’. Dar es Salaam, Beginning Swahili class, 2 November 2011, lines 150-186 Akida’s query in lines 154-155 (above) as to the difference in meaning between the verb stems jisikia and sikia leads to the teacher’s response indicating sikia to also be associated with the action of hearing, ‘But it is also for “hearing”’ (line 158). In indicating the ‘connection’ (line 160) between the different meanings (to feel, to hear) of sikia to be unknown, the teacher may be displaying Tanzanian identity by referring to the verb stem sikia as ‘the Kiswahili word’ (line 160). Referring to the Swahili language as Kiswahili (the language’s name for itself) within an English statement potentially displays retention of ownership over the language, for it is 220 Kiswahili and not Swahili, as it would be typically referred to in English. This communicates a closer familiarity and intimacy with the language that dubbing it Swahili might not, and is a practice more commonly observed among native speakers. Another way of interpreting this use of Kiswahili is that the teacher is speaking from a Tanzanian preference of indicating or emphasizing that the language is what is being discussed, rather than an aspect of Swahili culture (Uswahili), or Swahili people (Waswahili); these concepts have separate terms in Swahili, whereas in English they are both assigned the same adjective. In my experience, it has not been unusual to find Tanzanians referring to the language as Kiswahili in English-framed conversations and publications. For example a sampling of the references use in this study indicates that each of the Tanzanian researchers cited herein use the term Kiswahili in their publication titles (these authors are identifiable as Tanzanians either because I have personal contact with them and also because, in some cases, they describe themselves as Tanzanians in their published writings). Table 4 below presents these authors and the titles of their research articles (I have excluded any titles from publications in Swahili, which can also sometimes be a preference for Kiswahili within English-language publications. In the article by Brock-Utne & Holmarsdottir (2004, p. 68), the first footnote is dedicated to explicating that the term Kiswahili will be used throughout their paper: Kiswahili is the name of the language and the word “Swahili” is an adjective. Thus we have “Swahili” culture and Swahili speakers, but the language is Kiswahili. But in most books written during colonialism, the work “Swahili” is used to refer to the language. Thus, the use of the term Kiswahili is a deliberate choice by some to break away from colonial thinking, and a move toward linguistic authenticity in research concerning the language, as well 221 Table 4. ‘Kiswahili’ in titles of English-language publications cited in this study. Author Publication Title Tanzanian 1. Batibo (2003) The teaching of Kiswahili as a foreign language in Africa: A case study from eastern and southern Africa. 2. Mtesigwa (2009) Perspectives, challenges and prospects of African languages in education: A case study of Kiswahili in Tanzania. 3. Nambuo Temu (1992) African American students’ self-awareness through Kiswahili language. 4. Ngonyani (1998) Properties of applied objects in Kiswahili and Kindendeule. 5. Ngonyani, D. (2001). Evidence for head raising in Kiswahili relative clauses 6. Ngonyani, D. (2006). Attract F and verbal morphology in Kiswahili. 7. Moshi (2006) The globalized world languages: The case of Kiswahili. 8. Omar (2006) Kiswahili requests: Performance of native speakers and learners. Non-Tanzanian 9. Blommaert (1992) Codeswitching and the exclusivity of social identities: Some data from campus Kiswahili. 222 as solidarity with Swahili-speakers. The term also appears in the chapter by Herman (2009, p. 183), amid discussion of the colonial history of Tanzania, and the appropriation of Swahili as a language of instruction within in the country in support of ‘the cause of the indigenous people’. The specificity of the use of the term Kiswahili notwithstanding, in this study I am concerned with providing practical, linguistically accurate, translations to English, and by translating the term I am able to discuss its use in situations as this in the Dar es Salaam language classroom, as a potentially covert expression of linguistic authenticity. The use of the term by the Swahili-language teacher may therefore be reasonably regarded as one of the ways in which authority and Tanzanian identity are reified, perhaps unconsciously, through classroom talk. Responding to the Akida’s question (lines 154-155 above) as to meaning of jisikia and sikia, the teacher goes on to point out how some people use the phrases Ninajisikia and Ninasikia interchangeably with Ninaumwa njaa (I am bitten [by] hunger/I am hungry). The teacher writes this last phrase on the chalkboard and explains its further: ‘You see, “uma” is “to bite” or “to [.] uma”’ (lines 168-169 above). After writing the translation of the Swahili phrase on the board in line 169, the teacher turns to students with a question about a word just written on the board, ‘How do you pronounce this word, sorry?’ (lines 169-170). Subsequently this word is explained to be bite, which the teacher equates with the verb stem uma (line 172). The students observe the word on the board as written incompletely, for it is BIT. In this exchange a shift occurs in the linguistic ecology of the classroom, which up to this point has been grounded in the learners’ response to the teacher’s self-positioning as a bilingual, and the positioning of learners as speakers of English with limited, receptive and productive knowledge of Swahili, by both themselves and the teacher. Upon deferring to the students for their expert knowledge of how to pronounce BIT, the teacher self-positions as a L2 speaker of 223 English. This creates space for the students to openly observe the spelling of BIT to be incomplete (lines 172-173), and prompts the addition of an E, making it BITE. What is significant here is that they feel free to correct the teacher’s spelling (a marked practice) and the teacher accepts this, acknowledging their expertise in this matter. The teacher takes note of the amended spelling in the pronounciation of BITE as ‘Bite(y)’ (line 176), possibly in a manner related to the earlier pronounciation of past as ‘past(i)’ (line 122 above). Next, the teacher uses English to admit, ‘So, I thought it’s just “b-i-t”’ (line 179) and continue on to say, ‘now, I don’t know the appropriate word. Is it biting in the stomach?’ (lines 180-181). This last statement, produced with rising intonation is potentially taken by the learners to be rhetorical in nature, as no one directly responds to the question. Rather, the learners laugh in response (line 182), making the teacher’s statement out to be humorous or unexpected. After this laughter, the teacher maneuvers reasserts a positioning as a competent bilingual and role as instructor, by returning to the Swahili phrases that initially led to this exchange and translating them thus: ‘Ninaumwa njaa’ (line 183), ‘I’m feeling hun—hungry. I’m feeling hungry’ (lines 183-184), and ultimately, ‘Leo nimeenda kafeteria kwa sababu, nimesikia njaa’ (lines 185-186). Throughout this vignette, the use of English by both the learners and their teacher assists learners to produce sentences with the target tense structure, and in furthering their understanding of Swahili phrases. However, this same use of English appears to limit opportunities for Swahili to be used as a means of negotiating for meaning through the issuing of instructions, asking of questions, and explanation of answers. Early on in the lesson Sijui (line 19 above) (I don't’ know) is used by a learner to respond to an English-language question from the teacher. Later, Ndiyo (line 140) (Yes/Yeah) is used by Akida to acknowledge the teacher’s response to his question. In each of these cases, learners are using Swahili in communicative 224 capacities beyond the prescription of the lesson, which is primarily outlined in English, and focused upon getting them to produce grammatically correct, and culturally appropriate, sentences outside of any communicative speech event in the class in which Swahili might be used to negotiate for meaning, elaborate, or respond to another’s utterance (e.g., role-play, conversation). This limited use of Swahili for communicative purposes within the class is what Akida is likely referred to when he remarked during our interview that in ‘the last couple weeks I haven’t learned much Swahili’. Even as the classroom was an environment where competence in both Swahili and English could be displayed, this was not enough. Learning Swahili, in Akida’s view, manifested in the ability to speak the language with a ‘random stranger’ (his own words) without the use of prepared notes. These strong interests in communicating through Swahili, not being met in the language classroom, led Akida and others, like Faki, Chausiku, and Maua (also in the class), to seek off-campus opportunities to learn and use more Swahili, and in so doing, project their social identities as Swahili-speakers by engaging locals through the language. English in the Teaching of Swahili Some four weeks before I would meet Akida, Chausiku, Faki, and Maua, I was beginning my classroom observations in a beginning-level language class comprised entirely of learners from the U.S. and their Tanzanian instructor. In this class, English was used in a way very similar to the vignette above, in a grammar-translation approach. To me, it was not so shocking to see English used to teach Swahili to native speakers of English; I had experienced this myself as a learner at a U.S. university some years prior. However, as time wore on, and I was able to spend time in classes where the majority of learners were not native speakers of English, the great frequency with which English featured in the Swahili-language classroom because more 225 visible to me as a somewhat of an oddity. Sure, the mandate on campus was that English was the 4 language of instruction for content courses (outside of Swahili studies and French language ), and when I would pass by a class engaged in English literature, or African history, I could hear them speaking English through their classroom’s open, louver-style windows, and I could see English written on the chalkboard. However, walking through campus between classes, or sitting in the campus cafes, I would rarely hear Tanzanian students speak English among themselves. Usually, the only students speaking English in these off times were Americans, or mixed groups of international students, for whom English was typically a second, third, or fourth language. The use of English within the teaching of Swahili is especially compelling when the language classroom is considered as a community constructed around social practices in language use. The Swahili-language classroom as community of practice can be interpreted as situated within the larger, concentric communities of the university, and the urban context of Dar es Salaam, each with their own dependent relations in social practice. Opposite to what I had anticipated, I was finding that in the Swahili-language classes with majority L2 or L3 Englishspeakers, English was being used just as much as in the classes of native-speaking learners. When I interviewed administrators of the Swahili language program, and asked them about the program’s language teaching methodology, they would tell me that they were following a communicative method, but except for the one advanced-level Swahili class on campus, I was not finding this to be the case most of the time. Observing in the English-language courses and French-language course, I saw that those classes operated monolingually; that is, in the French class I heard not one word of English or Swahili, and similarly in the English course, Swahili !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 4 French was offered only at the intermediate level, meaning that students needed to have entered with previous experience in the language. 226 was not used. Between these observations, and the typical campus experience of learners being approached in English by others, in the field I began to consider how the linguistic environment of the Dar es Salaam university was playing a role in these learners’ experience in studying Swahili. What I learned from conversations with language program administrators, teaching assistants, and teachers was that the use of English in the Swahili-language classroom was a result of multiple factors: • Preconceived notions that all international students as non-Tanzanians were competent speakers of English. • As English was the existing language of instruction within the Tanzanian educational system (beyond primary school), and all Swahili-language instructors on campus had been educated in this system through their graduate degrees, they were competent multilinguals (English, Swahili, additional local languages). In all of the classes I observed, English was the only language common to instructors and students, apart from Swahili. • In reality, with all international language learners familiar with English, the language became a practical, default medium for explanations and instructions. • The existing global status of English as a language in educational curricula had made it such that all incoming, international language learners if unable to converse in English, or uncomfortable doing so, were able to read in the language and comprehend spoken English receptively, though in some cases, with difficulty. Rules or guidelines for language use in the classroom were not something specifically mentioned by Swahili-language instructors or program administrators in my individual interviews with them, though it was acknowledged that the textbook in use was specifically 227 designed to include English. As one program administrator explained, while showing me in the textbook: ‘Vitabu vinatumia sehemu Kiingereza, sehemu Kiswahili. Kama—kama kilivyo. Tunapata mfano humu ndani, kwamba: tunatumia upande wa moja Kiswahili, upande wa pili Kiingereza.’ (Dar es Salaam, Interview with Program Administrator #2, 23 November 2011, lines 184-186). [The] books use [an] English-language section, [then a] Swahili-language section. As— as it was. We get [an] example here in [the textbook], that we use the first side [in] Swahili, the second side [in] English. This description of the textbook prompted me to ask if, in order to learn Swahili one needs to know English first, ‘So kujifunza Kiswahili unataka kujua Kiingereza kwanza?’. The administrator replied to me in the affirmative, confirming my observation, and referring to the difficulties or taabu encountered when teaching Swahili to first-language speakers of languages other than English. ‘Mmhmm—ndiyo, ni—ni vizuri wana Kiingereza kwanza, tuwa—tunapata taabu tunapofundisha wanafunzi wa—tulikuwa tulifundisha wanafunzi wa Libya, wanafunzi wa Ujerumani, wanafunzi wa Italia, wanafunzi wa Scandanavian countries. Tunapata shida kidogo. Kwa sababu wengine wanakuwa na Kiingereza chao siyo vizuri sana.’ (Dar es Salaam, Interview with Program Administrator #2, 23 November 2011, lines 190- 196) 228 Mmhmm—yes, it’s—it’s very good they have English first, we—we get difficulties when we teach students they—we taught students of Libya, students of Germany, students of Italy, students of Scandanavian countries. We get a small problem. Because others have their English [which] is not very well spoken. In his statement to me (above), the program administrator also makes a judgement with regards to the quality of these international students’ English, saying ‘siyo vizuri sana’ (not well spoken or not very good). This would seem to setup a dialectic in which he is essentially characterizing the English spoken by himself and Swahili-language instructors at the university as better and more correct than that of some of the students. Necessitating these students engagement of English in their learning of Swahili, knowing that may be uncomfortable with using English, and in some cases quite limited in their abilities, is a subtle point of power in the design of the Swahili-language program. Subtlely so, because of the hidden nature (in some ways) of English as symbolic capital within teaching practices and social relations at the university and in the city. Ethnographic Vignette #2: ‘Ninafurahi Sana Sana Sana!’ in Mexico City Toward the end of January, the Mexico City classroom actors are unusually greeted by a learner entering the class after it has already begun with talk in Spanish and Swahili. This was an atypical manner for learners to enter the classroom, though not unheard of. Ana comes into the classroom, saying Hodi, a call in Swahili akin to Knock, knock that is regularly made by a person to announce their presence before entering a room or to checking to see if anyone is present inside a room or home. In her use of Hodi, Ana is demonstrating initiative in displaying culturally appropriate knowledge of Swahili, which was not necessary (or elicited) by anyone in the classroom, she is responded to by in the teacher with the correspondingly appropriate reply of 229 Karibu, karibu, also in Swahili. This vignette provides evidence of how learners use Swahili to demonstrate their communicative competence, whether purposefully or indirectly, in sequences of interaction that are validated or scaffolded by their teacher’s continued use of Swahili. Excerpt 5: 235 Ana: Hodi. Knock, knock. 236 T: Karibu, karibu. ((noise of moving chairs as Ana sits down)) Welcome, welcome. [1.5] Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 26 January 2011, lines 235-236 The teacher in class that day is one of two male instructors of Swahili language at the university during this semester, both of whom are not first-language speakers of Spanish, one from the U.S., the other from the Democratic Republic of the Congo. All of the learners are native speakers of a variety of Spanish, with two of them having come from Cuba to Mexico City to join this Master’s program in African Studies, of which the course in Swahili language is a required component. Another student comes from Venezuela, and the remainder of the students from different areas of Mexico. As the classroom conversation continues, the teacher uses Swahili to ask other learners, Ximena and Jazmín, about whether they have already printed out their homework assignments due that day. Then, after a pause the teacher asks Ana how she is or how she is doing (line 250 below). In the audio recording I can also be heard participating in the talk as well. 230 Excerpt 6: 247 T: Au u[mesha? Or have you already? 248 Xim: [Nimeshapiga chapa, nime—nimesha cha— I already typed/hit, 249 I’ve— I already pr— nimeshapiga: kop a: printi. I’ve already copie(d) printed. 250 T: Ah ah, umeshachapisha. Na Jazmín? [4.5] Vipi Ana? Ah ah, you’ve already printed. And Jazmín? [4.5] What’s up Ana? 251 Ana: Nzuri sana. [I’m] very good. 252 T: ¿Sí? Yes/Yeah? 253 Ana: Sana sana. Very very. 254 T: Sabab[u? Because? 255 256 257 J: [Mm? Ana: ((la[ughs)) T: [((laughs)) Utaweza tu—tu: tuambie, tu: [.] sabab[u ah, You will us— us just tell us, 231 [the] reason ah, 258 259 Ana: [Okay. T: saba[bu gani ni nzuri sana. [the] reason why it’s/you’re very good. 260 [Sawa. Mi[mi:: Okay. 261 Ana: I T: [Habari ni nzuri sana sana sana. [The] news/story is very very very good. 262 Ana: Mimi ninafurahi sana sana sana, kwa sababu ((short laugh)) um I am very very very happy, 263 because mwishowe, finally, 264 265 T: Mm. Ana: nili:: nili:: a ver, nili:: ¿Cómo se dice ‘decidir’? Niliamua? I .PAST I.PAST let’s see, I .PAST How [do you] say ‘decidir’? I decided? 266 T: Mm[hmm. 267 J: 268 [Mmhmm. Ana: Niliamua:: kuandika:: [1.0] um, [2.0] kuandika:: [2.0] I decided 269 to write um, T: Nini? Baru[a? What? [A] letter? 232 to write um 270 Ana: [Ah. Uh huh. Yeah. Barua pero:: pero: ¿Cómo se dice— Letter but 271 but How [do you] say— cómo qué se dice ‘ministro’? how what [is the way to] say ‘ministro’? 272 T: Balu—a::h wazi[ri. Embass—a::h ministry. 273 Xim: [Waziri. Waziri. Ministry. Ministry. Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 26 January 2011, lines 247-273 After asking Ximena about her homework assignment in line 247 (above), the teacher is not heard again until Ximena has completed her full response (lines 248-249) to the question, which displays some restarts, and potential hesitations over word choice. There being no further input from the teacher, Ximena has a chance to work her way through the wording of I’ve already printed, which is produced more completely in line 249. Despite these revisions, Ximena is understood by the teacher who responds with a reformulation or recast of Ximena’s statement in ‘umeshachapisha’ (line 250). There is no audible response from Jazmín after the teacher directs a question to her, and this results in a substantial silence. Then, the teacher asks Ana ‘Vipi’ (line 250), calling on her by name. Ana’s next series of responses (line 251, 253, 256) are taken by the teacher to be cryptic or incomplete, for he probes with successive questions, searching for more detail (line 252, 254). Ana responds to his first question in Swahili, seemingly unaffected by the use of Spanish in line 252. The teacher’s next question, overlapped by my own expression (line 255) of desiring to know why Ana is feeling so good, is met only by Ana’s laughter (line 233 256). This triggers laughter from the teacher, and then he makes a request that she stop playing coy, and tell us the reason why she is ‘nzuri sana’ (line 259) (very good). Ana has probably already anticipated that the teacher would ask this, as her talk overlaps with his, first with ‘Okay’ (line 258), and then its equivalent in Swahili, ‘Sawa’ (line 260). Arguably, Ana has designed her talk precisely to prompt such inquiries from others in the classroom. Directly after the finish of the teacher request, Ana begins in Swahili (line 260) and the teacher jumps in to speculate that her news must be very very very good (line 261). Ana next confirms this, taking on the teacher’s wording of ‘sana sana sana’ (line 261) and embellishing it with her own emphasis ‘sana sana sana’ (line 262). In the next moments, as her story unfolds, her short laugh (line 262) potentially serves as a break in talk, or placeholder along with ‘um’ to give her time to produce ‘mwishowe’ (line 263) (finally) likely because mwishowe is not produced until after the word um. Interpreting this short laugh as a placeholder helps to characterize Ana’s speech as extemporaneous, and shows her drive to communicate through Swahili. Word by word, she continues piecing together her statement, verifying key vocabulary with the aid of Spanish in ‘Cómo se dice’ (lines 265, 270). She verifies her own understanding of niliamua (line 265) (I decided) this way, involving me and the teacher in the process (lines 266-267), and later, Ximena, when the teacher does not immediately offer ‘waziri’ (lines 272-273). Throughout this segment of talk, Ana persists in the activity of constructing a sentence in Swahili, and the teacher allows her to do this, even though it is not easy. This is how she has opted to gain practice in expressing herself in Swahili, and her effort is encouraged all throughout by the teacher’s patience, in addition to his scaffolding question in line 269 when she appears not to have completed her thought. In fact, Ana’s use of Swahili is validated by the teacher’s use of Swahili and limited intervention, showing that the teacher perceived her as having some level of competence in the 234 language. Ximena’s participation n line 173 is evidence of her own competence in Swahili as well. In the continuation of this talk (below), Ana goes on to explain that because of some problems with her research thesis she emailed an old acquaintance (who is now in one of the government ministries) for assistance. Over the course of expressing this information in the form of a protracted sentence, she is corrected by the teacher (line 311), self-corrects (line 312), revises (line 318), and also uses Spanish to ask after the translation of ‘Tésis’ (line 314). Excerpt 7: 309 Ana: [Lakini:: mwi ((laughs)) lakini ye e: e::, um, [.] mm: [.] But 310 anoth but s/he e: e::, um, kutokana na na:: na matatizo: nina sasa, [as a result of] [of] [of] problems I have now, 311 T: Ninayo sasa. I have.REL now. I have now. 312 Ana: Ninayo sasa, mm kwa: no. ¿Con? Na:: n[a:: I have.REL now, mm for no. With? With with I have now 313 T: [Mmhmm. 314 Ana: [1.0] ¿Tésis? Thesis? 235 mm: 315 T: ‘Na tasnifu’. ‘With [the] thesis’. 316 Ana: Na tasnifu yangu, With my thesis, 317 T: Mm. 318 Ana: U::h en relación—mmhmm. Na tasnifu yangu, U::h in relation— mmhmm. With my thesis, 319 T: Mmhmm. 320 Ana: U::m. Usik—jana usiku, U::m. Nigh—last night, 321 T: Mm. 322 Ana: Nili—nilim [.] andikia barua. I.PAST—I.PAST.OBJ [.] write.APP letter. I 323 I wrote her/him [a] letter. T: Mm. Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 26 January 2011, lines 309-323 The issue with Ana’s production of ‘matatizo: nina sasa’ (line 310) (problems I have), is that it is missing the attachment of the relative marker (REL) -o, (also called the o of reference in linguistic literature) which must also agree morphologically with matatizo, as -yo. Without the -yo, the object of the phrase (matatizo) is left hanging ungrammatically in this OSV phrase, 236 5 where the object comes first, followed by the subject and verb. The error correction the teacher provides in line 311 therefore serves to underscore the relative novice position Ana has already placed herself in through her hesitant speech and previous requests for assistance with vocabulary. Based on the context of her story (that she is and has been in recent touch with another person), she again receives corrective feedback in line 327 (below). Then there is a series of turns in which she is continually corrected by the teacher until she produces the desired verb in line 332, with the teacher approving of her utterance in saying ‘Ndiyo’ (line 333) (Yes). Excerpt 8: 324 Ana: Na [.] e::[: And 325 T: [Leo? Today? 326 Ana: asu—leo asubuhi? Nili:[: nilijibu morn—this morning? I.PAST I responded/answered 327 T: [Ali—ali alijibu. S/he.PAST—s/he.PAST s/he responded/ answered. 328 Ana: [A: SUBJ S/he !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 5 This issue has to do with head raising; the ‘hanging object’ exists because the object itself originates from a lower position within the syntactic tree of the phrase. See, for example, Ngonyani (2001; 2006). 237 329 T: [Alijibu. S/he responded/answered. 330 Ana: A—anijibu na// SUBJ—SUBJ.OBJ.answer/respond and 6 S/he---s/he respond/answer me and 331 T: //Alinijibu. S/he responded to/answered me. 332 Ana: Ay, Dios. A-li-ni-jibu. Oh, God. SUBJ-PAST-OBJ-respond/answer. Oh, God. S/he responded to/answered me. 333 T: ((quieter)) Ndiyo.// Yes. 334 Ana: //Na alinijibu kama rafiki. And s/he responded to/answered me as/like [a] friend. 335 T: A:[h! 336 Xim: [Mm::! 337 T: ((laughs)) 338 Ana: Mmhmm! 339 T: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 6 This verb anijibu could also be interpreted as a formation of the subjunctive, possibly as s/he should respond/answer me. However, this does not seem likely because the learner is relating a procedural sequence of past events. 238 340 Xim: [Na ye—na yeye atakusaidia:: And sh/h— and s/he is going to help you 341 Ana: [Ah, na yeye ataku— Ah, and s/he SUB.FUT.OBJ— 342 a-ta-nisaidia. SUB-FUT-OBJ.help s/he will help me. 343 Xim: Kuhusu: tasnifu e:[: yak—yako? Concerning/about your—your e:: thesis? 344 Ana: [Mmhmm. Mmhmm. 345 Xim: Mm! 346 T: [Sa:wa: kabisa. Totally okay/good. 347 J: [A::h! Hongera sana! [Big] congratulations! 348 T: Hongera kabisa! ((la[ughs)) Total congratulations! 349 J: [((laughs)) 350 Ss: [((laughs)) Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 26 January 2011, lines 324-350 239 At first producing ‘nilijibu’ (line 326) (I responded/answered) in reference to her acquaintance, Ana is corrected by the teacher with ‘alijibu’ (line 327). More specifically, the teacher’s correction begins immediately after Ana initially uses the subject marker (SUBJ) Ni-, rather than what should be used to refer to someone else in the third person singular, A- . This source of the error is emphasized in the teacher’s repetition of ‘Ali’ (line 327), and when Ana produces the desired form, but hesitates before saying the complete verb, the teacher enters again (line 329). Ana still has some difficulty, though, in her next turn (line 330) and does not quite complete the alijibu the teacher has suggested. With this, the teacher immediately latches onto her mistake in line 330, to which Ana responds with a response cry (Goffman, 1981), ‘Ay, Dios’ (line 332) (Oh, God) that displays for everyone her recognition of her own error or frustration at the difficulty that she’s having. And then she gets the verb right in line 332 by slowing down her speech to segment the verb at its morphosyntactic boundaries, while stressing the past tense marker -li- , likely as a symptom of her effort to slow her speech. Her success is signaled by the teacher’s response in line 333, as he makes his voice more quiet, retreating from his previously more vocal stance. In line 334 there is evidence of uptake (also in line 342), as Ana is now able to produce the target verb more fluidly, and her statement finally comes together: ‘Na alinijibu kama rafiki’ (line 334) (And s/he responded to/answered me as/like [a] friend). The content of this statement is understood to be exciting by both the teacher and Ximena, who both demonstrate their understanding of what Ana has said, which points to her success in communicating her message. The teacher laughs (line 337) as he realizes that this is the core of what has put Ana in such a good mood that day. Ana’s good news draws Ximena’s interest, and she asks Ana follow-up questions in Swahili in lines 340 and 343 to verify whether this new friend of Ana’s will indeed 240 be helping her. In response to the first follow-up question, Ana begins by using the phrasal structure and verb form of Ximena’s previous utterance, including the object marker -ku- to refer to you, but she realizes her error in this, and quickly self-corrects, stressing -ni- in more accurate reference to herself. This exchange between the two learners is memorable because it was rare in class (with either teacher) that learners would actually communicate with each other in Swahili. It was common for learners to communicate directly with the teacher in Swahili, but with other learners this almost never occurred, and there were no structured, communicative activities or tasks in the class that explicitly encouraged that behavior. It is therefore reasonable to interpret this interaction between Ximena and Ana as a deliberate choice to use Swahili for communicative purposes in the discussion of new information. In the end, the news that Ana has found someone to assist her with thesis research is regarded as positive, and the teacher and I overlap in celebrating her fortune (line 346-348). The teacher then animates my word Hongera in line 348, elaborating with ‘kabisa’ and laughing at his own creation. Ultimately, this utterance is regarded by all of us as humorous, and I join in with the learners in the laughter (line 349-350). Collectively, our laughter shows us all to be competent in Swahili, as we are all appropriately responding in unison to the teacher’s emphasis on Hongera. Ethnographic Vignette #3: ‘Do You Know “Kunya”?’ in Dar es Salaam To provide another illustration of the multiple language use in the Dar es Salaam Swahililanguage classroom, I now turn to an example from the beginning-level Swahili class of four South Korean learners and their Tanzanian instructor. This class occurred in November, during 241 what was their fourth week of language instruction, and the use of language between the learners Habiba (H), Raha (R), Ndoto (N), and Lulu (L), and their instructor was memorable not only because the then recent death of Colonel Gaddafi was mentioned as ‘Gaddafi amekufa’ (line 44 below) (Gaddafi has/recently died), but also because the meaning of the Swahiil verb kunya (to defecate) was explained in discussion that involved the speaking of Korean by the learners and an attempt to speak Korean by the teacher. The following vignette comes from a lesson in which the teacher is explaining how to negate verbs in Swahili. Over the course of the lesson, the teacher takes particular time with a set of four exceptions to the general rule: four atypically short verb stems, including kula (not in this vignette), kufa (line 40 below) (to die), kunya (to defecate), and kunywa (to drink). Up to this beginning of the excerpt, the teacher has been using English to explain these verbs as ‘monosyllabic’. Excerpt 9: 40 T: ‘Kufa’. You know ‘kufa’? ‘To die’. You know ‘to die’? 41 N: [((slightly shakes head laterally)) 42 T: ‘Amekufa’. [.] ‘Amekufa’. [2.0] U:m, ‘Gaddafi amekufa’. [.] ‘He has/recently died. [.] ‘He has/recently died’. [2.0] U:m, ‘Gaddafi has/recently died’. [.] 43 N: [((slightly shakes head laterally)) 44 T: ‘Gaddafi amekufa’. [2.0] ‘Gaddafi has/recently died’. 45 H: ((to Raha)) 242 46 R: ((to Teacher)) 47 T: Yah ((nods, smiles)). [.] ((traces index finger across neckline)) It 48 means [.] So this is ‘kufa’. ((traces index finger across neckline)) [.] Dar es Salaam, beginning Swahili class, 10 November 2011, lines 40-48 As this excerpt begins, the teacher makes mention of the verb kufa (to die) (line 40 above), and then uses English in the form of a question to check for understanding. A nonverbal response from Ndoto in line 41 indicates to the teacher that the target verb is not understood, and so the teacher continues with an example sentence in an attempt to contextualize the verb’s meaning. This example sentence ‘Amekufa’ (line 42) (He has died/recently died) is given twice, interceded by a short silence, as the teacher potentially waits to see if there is any recognition or understanding among learners. After a longer silence, the teacher offers the example sentence ‘Gaddafi amekufa’ (line 42) (Gaddafi has/recently died), probably thinking that the mention of Gaddafi would trigger imagery of death, and help with communicating meaning, given that news of the killing of Colonel Gaddafi had been surfacing in local news outlets (see Figure 19 below for a contemporary tabloid headline on the death of Gaddafi). Mentioning Gaddafi seems to work, because Habiba then says something (unintelligible English in the video recording, possibly a translation) to Raha (line 45), probably explaining the meaning of kufa, because Raha then says something (also unintelligible English) to the teacher who responds in affirmation, ‘Yah’ (line 47) along with nodding and smiling, showing satisfaction. After a short pause, the teacher again confirms the meaning of kufa for the learners by enacting it, tracing an index finger across the neckline (line 47), in a sign of death by slaughter. The teacher then possibly starts to say what the meaning of kufa is, this time in English, as in ‘It means’ (lines 47-48), but then 243 Figure 19. 'Kifo cha Gaddafi...Imefichuka' (The Death of Gaddafi Has [Come Out in the Open]), 7 leading headline from local, weekly Christian tabloid, Ukweli na Uwazi [Truth and Openess]. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 25-31 October 2011. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 7 Potentially offensive images of the deceased Colonel Gaddafi have been removed from this composite of the tabloid’s front page. 244 stops and begins a new statement, ‘So this is “kufa”’ (line 48), and nonverbally expresses again the sign of slaughter. That the potential English explanation of kufa is abandoned in favor of a gesture, illustrates how the teacher probably felt the previous use of the gesture had been effective in communicating meaning, and an additional explanation in English was not needed. Though this exchange illustrates how the meaning of a Swahili verb, previously unknown by learners, is resolved through further contextualization in Swahili from the teacher, collaboration between learners, and nonverbal gestures. In the continuation of the lesson, the teacher does actually translate kufa into to die for the learners (line 54 below). This also demonstrates some differences in teaching methodology among Dar es Salaam teachers, as gestures were not used by the teacher in the Bit vs. Bite scenario to clarify word meaning. Excerpt 10: 54 T: ((turns to chalkboard, writing)) So, ‘kufa’ [.] ((turns to students)) Is ‘to die’ 55 ‘to die’. ((pointing at ‘-nya’)) ‘-nya’? ‘-nya’? 56 H: 57 T: Huh? ‘Kunya’? ‘Kunya’? ((writing)) You know ‘kunya’? ((looking at ‘To defecate’? ‘To defecate’? 58 Habiba)) ‘Kunya’? [.] ((laughs)) A::y! Safi sana. [.] ((looking at ‘To defecate’? 59 ‘to defecate’? Very good. T: Habiba and Raha)) Do you know ‘kunya’? ‘to defecate’? 245 60 H: [((looking at teacher)) 61 R: [((looking at teacher)) Dar es Salaam, beginning Swahili class, 10 November 2011, lines 54-61 After gesturing, the teacher then points (line 55) to the verb stem -nya of the word already written on the board, KUNYA, the next verb the learners need to know the meaning of. After prompting learners repeatedly (lines 55, 57) for the meaning of kunya (to defecate), the teacher puts the question to particular learners, directing a gaze first toward Habiba, and then towards both Habiba and Raha. From the video (which was recorded from an angle at the rear of the classroom) it is not clear what Habiba did to the make the teacher respond, laughing in line 58, and seemingly conferring praise. However, it becomes clear that by continuing to probe for the meaning of kunya (lines 57-59), the teacher is not satisfied that the learners have demonstrated sufficient understanding. Looking at Habiba and Raha (line 59 above), the teacher asks them whether they know the meaning of the verb kunya (to defecate). There is silence in response, as Habiba and Raha say nothing, but continue to hold the teacher’s gaze (line 60-61). Then the teacher says ‘A:h’ (line 62 below), followed by a lengthy pause, during which the teacher appears to be thinking about how to explain the verb’s meaning. 246 Excerpt 11: 62 T: A:h. [10.0] Uh. I don’t know how to put it. ((smiles)) U::h. [2.0] This is 63 the process—‘kunya’ is the process of getting rid, of the food you ‘to defecate’ 64 ate, ((points behind self with thumb)) some hours ago. If you ate 65 [nyama:: au whatever you eat, and then this ((brings hands down)) meat or 66 H: [((nods)) 67 N: [((nods)) 68 T: goes on, more. You can , then the leftovers—so that you can 69 the useless, eh, part of the food you ate, will be, uh, get—get 70 out. [.] ((brings hands down)) To get out. 71 R: Ah.// 72 T: //To get out.// 73 R: //((covers mouth with hand)) A::h! 74 H: Ah ((to teacher)) 75 T: ((to Habiba)) That is ‘kunya’. ((nods)) ‘to defecate’. 76 L: A::h. 77 T: So ((walking towards door)) you go, wherever you go, you see 78 H: Ah. Ah. 247 79 T: ((nodding)) Yeah. 80 R: ((laughs)) 81 T: That is ‘kunya’. [((laughs)) ‘to defecate’. 82 H: [((laughs)) 83 T: ((pointing to chalkboard)) So, it’s ‘-nya’. With ‘ku-’, because this is 84 monosyllabic. ‘Ku-’. ((looking at Raha)) What’s that in Korean? [.] 85 ‘Kunya’? ‘To defecate’ 86 R: ‘ ’. [Ssa-da] ‘Excrete’. 87 T: ‘ ’?// [Sa-da] Buy? 88 H: //((laughs)) [((claps)) 89 T: [((looking at Raha)) ‘ ’. [Sa-da] Buy. 90 R: ((looking at teacher)) ‘ ’.// [Ssa-da] Excrete. 91 T: //((turning to chalkboard)) ‘ ’ [.] ((pointing at list)) ‘-nywa’? [Sa-da] Buy. 248 92 ‘-nywa’? [.] ((looking at learners)) ‘-nywa’? So we have ‘-nywa’ 93 becomes ((writing)) ‘ku-nywa’. ((pointing at list, looking at learners)) ‘to drink’. 94 Yeah? Dar es Salaam, beginning Swahili class, 10 November 2011, lines 62-94 Emerging from a pause (line 62 above), the teacher goes on to say with a smile, ‘Uh. I don’t know how to put it’. It is likely that the teacher feels fairly awkward in trying to explain kunya, because it has to do with a bodily function that people usually do not talk openly about, especially in Swahili, because things of this sort (including strong insults and sex talk) are not typically spoken about with people outside of more intimate love or family relationships. But the teacher presses on, after a bit of hesitation (line 62), having decided to explain the meaning of kunya in terms of how food passes through the body. ‘This is the process—‘kunya’ is the process of getting rid, of the food you ate some hours ago’ (lines 62-63). This statement is punctuated by the teacher’s gesture to their backside, and another gesture (line 65) repeated in line 70 to simulate food moving downward through the body. The example of a local food the learners are certain to be familiar with by this point in their stay in Tanzania, nyama (line 65) (meat), supplements the explanation; the ‘leftovers’ (line 68) or ‘useless, eh, part’ (line 69) of the nyama is what ends up coming out, or getting out of the body in the process of elimination. In her expression of ‘Ah’, Raha begins to show recognition of the meaning of kunya in line 71 (above), and after the teacher’s repeat of the key phrase in the previous explanation (line 72), Raha displays more thorough comprehension in the receipt of new knowledge, as she covers her mouth with her hand, in an expression of surprise or embarrassment, exclaming ‘A::h!’ (line 73). Habiba is the next learner to display comprehension, saying something inaudible to the 249 teacher in line 74, most likely a statement of the meaning of kunya, which is confirmed by the teacher in line 75, with a nonverbal show of recognition or agreement. Then, Lulu displays comprehension (line 76), followed by the teacher’s recapitulation of the idea of going to the bathroom, in ‘you go’ (line 77). This is an idea that Habiba indicates an understanding of, as her ‘Ah. Ah’ shows (line 78), and that Raha finds humorous (line 80). The teacher confirm the whole idea to be humorous as well, producing laughter in line 81 that erupts at the same moment that Habiba laughs, aligning with the hilarity that Raha has previously established with her own laughter. Next, with the laughter having subsided, the teacher points to the chalkboard, returning to the target grammar point with the use of English, saying that kunya is a ‘monosyllabic’ (line 84) verb that can be analyzed as -nya, and ku- , respectively. Then the teacher looks directly at Raha, and with sudden interest, asks her about the Korean-language equivalent of kunya in line 84: ‘What’s that in Korean?’ There is a brief silence following this question, and then, perhaps because Raha does not immediately respond, the teacher goes on to restate the target verb (line 8 85). Raha subsequently responds with the Korean verb [Ssa-da] (line 86) (Excrete), and the teacher attempts to repeat the verb after her, but produces a different, though phonologically very 9 similar, verb in line 87: [Sa-da] (Buy). This difference is immediately recognized by Habiba, who laughs and claps (line 88) as the teacher tries again to correctly pronounce the target verb (line 89). This second attempt is also lacking, as Raha’s repeat of [Ssa-da] (line 90) (Excrete) shows. But the teacher is undaunted, and tries yet again, resulting in another imperfect attempt !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 8 Also, [s͈ ada]. 9 This phonological difference was pointed out to me by a native speaker of Korean, after I sought their assistance with transcribing the Korean in these excerpts. [Ssa] and [Sa] are minimal pairs. 250 (line 91). After a short pause (line 91), the teacher continues directly into the linguistic analysis of kunywa (to drink), another monosyllabic verb (line 91). In this way, the teacher does not go beyond the parroting of [Ssa-da], and is never again observed to articulate Korean words in the classroom. In fact, this was the first and only occurrence I observed in which the Tanzanian teacher asks learners about how to say something in their first-language, or the teacher produces a Korean word. Altogether, this vignette provides an example of how for an entire stretch of a language lesson, learners do not produce any Swahili. Instead, the teacher largely negotiates meaning through the use of English and a series of gestures. Learners intimate their understanding through back-channel cues (‘Ah’ in lines 71, 74, 76, 78) and bracket-confirmations (e.g., laughter, nodding, clapping) (Goffman, 1981). The opportunity for learners to demonstrate competence in comprehending Swahili is limited to the earliest exchange wherein the teacher provides example sentences using kufa (to die) to scaffold learners’ understanding, which is evidenced in their production of some unintelligible statements in English that the teacher takes to be successful translations. Later, after the meaning of kunya (to defecate) is fully communicated and paraphrased in English (line 70), the teacher endeavors to find out what the Korean verb is that equates with kunya (line 84), attempting to pronounce ‘ ’ but inquiring no further. This shows that the teacher’s purpose for having solicited the Korean verb was not to check for learners’ understanding or attribute added value or symbolic capital to their first-language. Rather, the purpose of the teacher’s qeuery was to satisfy a bounded curiosity. Korean is therefore invoked in this classroom context in an incidental manner, and while there is an extended interaction—response—evaluation (IRE) sequence entailing the teacher’s attempts at pronouncing the Korean verb (initiated in Raha’s stating of the Korean verb in line 86), there is 251 no comparable IRE sequence with the learners’ production of a Swahili verb as its target. In this way, the Swahili-language classroom can be seen as dominated by the use of English (with the discussion of kufa as an exception), which minimizes the potential for use of Swahili as a language of communication. Essentially, the consistent use of English in explanations and instructions, while likely thought to enhance the learner’s experience, succeeds in covertly deprioritizing the communicative use of Swahili, and preempting potential opportunities for learners to use the language themselves, or receive comprehensible input in Swahili. English in the Teaching of Swahili Teachers’ Perspectives. The vignette above shows how English figures prominently into the teaching of Swahili at the introductory level in Dar es Salaam, appearing in this lesson even after learners demonstrate their understanding of the first Swahili verb discussed, which is initially umtranslated. In my interview with the teacher of this class, the teacher explained that teaching these South Korean learners was enjoyable, though challenging, particularly because they were total beginners in Swahili and were not fully competent in English. Lakini kwa wanafunzi kutoka Korea, changamoto nyingine ambayo ninaipata, siwezi kusema ni mbaya […] ni kwamba, hata Kiingereza hawawezi sana. Kwa hiyo, hawawezi Kiswahili, lakini pia hawawezi Kiingereza kiasi kwamba, wanaposhindwa kufahamu au kuelewa jambo fulani, ninapozungumza Kiswahili, wanasema ‘Kiingereza, Kiingereza!’ Unatumia Kiingereza kufafanua, lakini kuna wakati mwingine hata Kiingereza ukitumia pia—ha. Unasema nini? (Dar es Salaam, Interview with Teacher #5, 24 November 2011, lines 104-110) 252 But for [the] students from Korea, [the] other challenge that I get, I can’t say it’s bad […]is that, even [in] English they’re not very able. Therefore, they’re not able [in] Swahili, but also they’re not able [in] English [to the extent] that, when they fail to comprehend or understand [a] particular thing, when I’m speaking/conversing [in] Swahili, they say ‘English, English!’ You use English to explain, but there are other times [when] even English if you use [it]—ha. What do you say? What the teacher expresses here is perhaps the challenge, the changamoto of many a language teacher who does not share a first-language with their students. This same challenge was also mentioned by the teacher of the intermediate-level class (see ethnographic vignette #2, chapter 2), who suggested that the use of English also it was necessary to use English in the class in order to check the comprehension of learners. Mwingine anasema Kiingereza lakini pengine wewe unaweza huwasikii vizuri. Ni changamoto. Sasa utafanya nini kujua huyu mtu anakuelewa. Ni changamoto. (Dar es Salaam, Interview with Teacher #2, 16 December 2011, lines 113-115) Someone [may] speak English but maybe you can’t hear [understand] them well. It’s a challenge. Now what will you do to know [that] this person understands you. It’s a challenge. 253 Along these lines, the teacher of the South Korean students speculated: Labda ningejua Kikorea, ningezungumza kwa Kikorea, lakini sijui Kikorea, nafanyaje? Kwa sasa hapo inabidi nitumie mbinu kwa kutumia mifano zaidi, tumia mifano, kama inawezekana, labda nyingine hata kuchora. (Dar es Salaam, Interview with Teacher #5, 24 November 2011, lines 123-126) Perhaps were I [to] know Korean, I would speak/converse in Korea, but I don’t know Korea, what do I do? For now there [in class] it behooves me [to] use techniques/methods [like] using more examples, using examples, as it’s possible maybe others even drawing. This conception of English as necessary to the teaching of Swahili to L+ (L2, L3, or beyond) speakers within Tanzania illustrates how the language teaching method was rooted in a grammar-translation approach, with translation an essential activity in the classroom as well as extensive metalinguistic explanations in English. In the excerpts above, the learners speak little expressive English in response to the teacher’s use of English, most likely because it is a language they are limited in, as their teacher describes (these learners were also simultaneously taking a course in English-language skills at the university to improve their competence; conversing with these learners between classes, they would sometimes ask that I repeat my English). As the vignette above predated our interview, it can presumed that the teacher was aware of the learner’s limitations in English while he uses English throughout the lesson. One consequence of this frequent use of English is that even if it is being used by the teacher as part of a grammar-translation approach, the general message to learners (regardless of their firstlanguage background) is that English-language knowledge is a prerequisite to the learning of 254 Swahili in the university classroom. Or put another way, it is that the listening to English explanations and the translating of words into English are both expected practices in such classrooms, for which learners without sufficient ability in English may be excluded. Although the teacher’s use of gestures denotes an acknowledgement of the potential that exclusive English use has for marginalizing some learners. Learners’ Perspectives and Investments in Language Learning. The South Korean learners, too, were aware of the use of English within their Swahili-language class. As their teacher mentioned during the interview, on occasion these learners would specifically request more explanations be given in English. This means that in some cases the use of English was prompted by the learners’ requests. However, the learners recognized that for the most part, they did not actually speak much Swahili in class. Lulu (L) and Ndoto (N) made this observation during our interview. Though they agreed that their teacher expected them to use Swahili, in practice this is not what was regularly occurring. During our interview, Ndoto, the most competent in English, acted as a translator (line 1408 below). Excerpt 12: 1407 L: U::h [.] teacher expect [.] me? 1408 N: A::h. 교수가 [생각하기에 우리가 뭘 쓰길 바라냐고. Professor is thinking we are what use wish What does the professor wish us to speak. 1409 L: 1410 J: Swahili? 1411 [Swahili. ((short laugh)) L: Yeah. 255 1412 N: But we don’t [.] use. [((laughs)) Swahili. 1413 L: 1414 N: But. 1415 L: We don’t us[e 1416 N: 1417 L: Swahili. [((laughs)) But. [use Dar es Salaam, Interview with Habiba, Lulu, & Ndoto, 18 November 2011, lines 1407-1417 It was their desire for more explanation in English that had been the impetus for the formation of their separate beginning Swahili class, as they had begun studying with the same students from the other beginning-level class who are discussed in ethnographic vignette #1 of this chapter. In that first class the South Koreans had felt like the other learners were not true beginners in Swahili like they were (some of the other learners had taken a short, one-week primer course at the start of their study abroad program that the South Koreans were not a part of). In the first days of that class, the teacher’s use of Swahili greetings and introductions left the South Koreans feeling unable to participate. In our interview they described how they able to get along in that class by listening to the way other learners introduced themselves and mimicking their words. This type of participation in class amounted to legitimate peripheral participation. Ndoto, speaking on behalf of her peers, positions the South Koreans (including hertself) as foreigners (line 845 below). 256 Excerpt 13: 840 N: [1.0] Ah. At the time [the teacher] introduced he:rself, in Swahili, but we 841 don’t know what the words meaning. She wrote [.] she wrote without 842 her [.] introduce—without her introduction (?) in—on the board. We 843 don’t know the words and, 844 L: A:h. [안 좋은 기억인데. Not good experience. Not a memorable experience. 845 846 N: [And so we just listen(ed) to the—another foreigner, and just change(d) the words. ((laughs)) Dar es Salaam, Interview with Habiba, Lulu, & Ndoto, 18 November 2011, lines 840-846 At the same time, these learners were enrolled in a class in English-language skills (English for academic purposes), and part of their goal in coming to Tanzania was to improve their English proficiency. This English-language class was taught entirely in English, and was mostly comprised of Tanzanian students, though there were some study abroad students did also attend (the Chinese learners were in the class along with the Italian learner). In fact, South Koreans’ desire to improve their own English could have been an additional reason why they requested to have their own beginning Swahili class. 257 Excerpt 14: 914 L: He write i:[:n English(y). 915 H: 916 [in English(y) and Swahili. J: [3.0] So did you say to him, ‘We need you to write more on the 917 board’. Did you ask him to write more? 918 L: U::h ah, we sa:y we want to:: write in Engl:ish:[(y). 919 H: [Ah. Yes. Mm. Dar es Salaam, Interview with Habiba, Lulu, & Ndoto, 18 November 2011, lines 914-919 Because they were interested in becoming more competent English-speakers, the learners also described how their study of Swahili, though essential for their survival in Tanzania, was secondary to their primary goal of improving their English proficiency. All of this affected their general investment in learning Swahili. When I asked Habiba, Lulu, and Ndoto how they felt about their opportunities for speaking both English and Swahili on campus and in the city, they had mixed responses. Lulu admitted that though she was more invested in learning English, she did want to learn Swahili, and this was difficult because their Swahili-language class didn’t meet regularly enough. When Tanzanians would approach her using Swahili, she would try to understand the Swahili, in lieu of asking to speak English. Similarly, Ndoto acknowledged that sometimes she wanted to speak English with Tanzanians. In some of their encounters, Tanzanians would see them and assume they spoke English, or call out to them Wachina!, perceiving them to be of Chinese origin. I was actually with Habiba, Lulu, Ndoto, and Raha on one such occasion. As we walked along a street, a pair of Tanzanian teenage males called out, 258 mimicking the sounds of Chinese words. Their experiences in the city countered the assumption of their Swahili-language teacher, who, in an interview with me, expressed the thought that the learners being in a ‘mazingira halisi’, or authentic environment where Swahili was spoken would automatically improve their abilities in Swahili through interactions with ‘Watanzania’ or Tanzanians. The misalignment between the teacher’s perspective and the learners’ experiences illustrates a common (and often incorrect) view of the study abroad experience. Multilingual Considerations. Referring to the act of listening to her instructor of Swahili, with help from Habiba (H), Lulu (L) described herself as ‘Always translate’ (line 1358 below). For these Korean-speaking students, the predominant use of English to teach Swahili introduces a multilingual tax to the learning environment. English spoken by the teacher must be first mentally translated into Korean before it can be attended to. While this is also the case when Swahili is used, limiting or excluding the use of English altogether would reduce the number of languages involved from three to two. Excerpt 15: 1355 L: //Sometime [the teacher] speak English, I’m listening English(y), [.] trans// 1356 H: //Translation. 1357 L: Translation ((raises voice)) Korean! Oh. ((la[ughs)) 1358 H: [((laughs)) 1359 J: A::[h. 1360 L: 1361 J: Korean? [Always translate. 259 1362 L: Korean. Dar es Salaam, Interview with Habiba, Lulu, & Ndoto, 18 November 2011, lines 1355-1362 In light of this multilingual challenge, the more optimal situation for these South Korean learners would probably be to learn Swahili using Korean as the sole alternative language. Ndoto’s notes on numbers in Swahili with a transliterated gloss in Hangul (modern Korean script) illustrate this point (see Figure 20 below), along with her comments during the interview on whether it would be better if their teacher spoke Korean: ‘Of course! English is our, it’s not our native language. But Korean is our language so it’s easy to understand’. Regardless of the availability of a Korean-speaking instructor of Swahili in Dar es Salaam, it appears that in some cases the students’ instrumental motivation for learning English outweighs their integrative motivation for learning Swahili, and creates an environment where English is not only accepted in its use by the language teacher, it is expected and encouraged by the students themselves (notwithstanding the use of an English-Swahili textbook). Additionally, that the teacher himself is a Swahili-English bilingual appears to contribute to the ease with which English is exercised in this Swahili-language classroom. Evidence from the classroom vignette above partly contradicts the perspective of one teaching assistant in the language program who felt that the use of English in the teaching of Swahili arose only when learners requested it because the teachers were the ones wanting to exclusively use Swahili: 260 Kwa hivyo mimi nadhani tatizo liko kwa wanafunzi wenyewe. Wanakuja wanataka walimu wanaojua Kiingereza. Na mwalimu hata kama anataka atumie Kiswahili tu, wanaogopa sasa. Wanasema pengine. Mwisho ---- 10 wakasema hakuelewa, kwa sababu nilikuwa natumia Kiswahili tu. Kwa hiyo inabidi achanganye lugha. Lakini hapa kila mwalimu anapenda angetumia Kiswahili tu. Dar es Salaam, Interview with Language Teaching Assistant #3, 29 September 2011, lines 1314-1320 Therefore I believe [the] problem is in [lies with] [the] students themselves. They come wanting teachers who know English. And [the] teacher even if s/he should use only Swahili, they are scared/afraid now. Maybe they speak. At the end ---- then they say [they] couldn’t understand, because I was only using Swahili. Therefore it requires/behooves [the teacher] mixes language[s]. Because here every teacher likes [that] s/he [were] using only Swahili. Regarding the teaching assistant’s assertion, it is worth noting that throughout the teacher’s talk in the above vignette, the English used is relatively repetitive, hinging upon such phrases as: ‘You know’ (line 57 above), ‘Do you know’ (line 59), ‘This is the process’ (lines 62-63), ‘you ate’ (lines 63-64, 64, 69), ‘whatever you eat’ (line 65), ‘get out’ (lines 69-70, 70, 72). Also, prior to the discussion of kunya (to defecate) and kufa (to die), the teacher had already worked with the learners to establish the meaning of kula (to eat). Based on kula as a known verb, and the teacher’s own use of ‘nyama’ (line 65), the Swahili equivalent of meat, there was probably some !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 10 Identifying information elided from this transcription. 261 potential for the development of a Swahili explanation of kunya, particularly as the teacher was very keen on using gestures to describe the process of eliminating food from the body. This also raises the additional point of this class being at the start of the learners’ second month at the university, a setting where within days of their arrival learners were already absorbing survival vocabulary for numbers, names of foods, beverages, key verbs. Most university staff in cafes, cafeterias, or those who worked as security, were typically not speakers of English, and learners would need to use their Swahili to communicate for essentials. Habiba, Lulu, and Ndoto told me in our interview that by the time they arrived in Dar es Salaam, Raha had already been there for a month, and so she taught them all how to say numbers and place names in Swahili before they set foot in the university classroom. However, such survival vocabulary is not incorporated into the classroom discussion, as can be seen above. Moreover, there was very limited class discussion of learners’ daily routines and ongoing, local experiences on and off campus. This illustrates a disconnect between the design of the language classroom as a teaching environment, and the actual, numerous opportunities for language learning in the classroom’s surrounds. There is also a disconnect between classroom community practices and those of the larger Swahili-speaking community both on and off campus. The classroom is focused on developing grammatical competence and receptive comprehension, and provides learners with few opportunities to develop the communicative abilities they need to more successfully interact with local Tanzanians. This could be a point of improvement for the program, to incorporate more references to the Swahili learners are using in their daily lives, thereby making classroom talk more relevant, and reflective of daily language use. 262 Figure 20. Ndoto's personal notes on Swahili numbers 1-20,000 transliterated into Hangul (modern Korean script), with English 'or'. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. 15 December 2011. ! 263 Ethnographic Vignette #4: ‘Swahili Tafadhali’ in Mexico City Before the morning’s class in Swahili language begins, the students are talking among themselves while the teacher sets up his computer and connects it to the video projector. It is now the first week of February, the fourth semester of Swahili for these six students. Ana, Luna, Natalia, and Ximena feature within this talk. Their teacher that day is one of two male Swahililanguage instructors that semester, both of whom were L+ speakers of Spanish, as neither had grown up in Latin America. In this vignette from their Swahili-language classroom, learners and their teacher are engaged in the use of first Spanish and then Swahili, illustrating the normative practices in language use within this classroom community. The conversation among these learners centers around the comparative prices of goods at the local supermarkets known as ‘Superama’ (lines 93, 96-97, 109 below), a subsidiary of Walmart Stores, and ‘La Comer’ (line 100), a popular, local nickname for La Comercial Mexicana. Branch locations of each of these supermarkets are scattered separately throughout the city, and within walking distance of the Mexico City university campus. Excerpt 16: 93 Ana: Pero que todo es tan caro en este Superama. [1.0] Este:: (?) But everything is so expensive en this Superama. U::h (?) 94 Xim: Pues si te soy sincero creo que no es tan caro. Well [yes] if I am true to you I think that it’s not so expensive. 264 95 Nat: ¿Sí[:? Yes/Yeah? 96 Ana: [¿En Superama? At Superama? 97 Lun: A mi Su[perama tampoco se me hace tan caro. It [appears] to me that it’s not so expensive. 98 Xim: Sí, comparado Compared. 99 [Comparado. Yes, compared con otros. A ver, es más la fama de caro. to others. Well yeah/Let’s see, it’s known for being expensive. 100 Per[o a veces cuando tú vas a La Comer las cosas son mucho But sometimes when you go to La Comer things 101 Lun: are much [Exacto. Exactly. 102 Xim: más caras. more expensive. 103 T: 104 105 Xim: [((clap, clap)) ¡Swahili! ((clap, clap, clap)) [.] ((clap)) [.] ((c[lap)) [ 106 Ss: ((laugh)) 265 107 T: Tafadhali. [3.0] ---Please. 108 Ss: 109 ----, 11 [---- , [4.0] mimi nadhani kuwa vitu vya ---- I believe that things of [ ((laughs)) T: Superama inategemea ni vitu gani. Superama it depends on which things. Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 8 February 2011, lines 93-109 The classroom conversation begins in Spanish and is eventually interrupted by the teacher’s punctuated clapping (lines 103-104), which overlaps with some student comments (line 102) and frames the teacher’s own exclamation of ‘¡Swahili!’ (line 103). Either the clapping, or the teacher’s outburst, or the combination thereof is taken by learners to be humorous (line 106), owing to its unexpected nature. The laughter may illustrate how comfortable the learners felt having an open Spanish conversation in the class despite their convening for the purpose of studying Swahili. Their laughter, also in line 108 (above) denotes a response to an unexpected or nonnormative teacher response to their use of Spanish. Then, by using Swahili to join in on the discussion of supermarket prices in line 107, the teacher makes it clear that the desire is for the students to speak Swahili instead of Spanish. The teacher’s entry into the classroom discussion is prefaced by an entreaty of please in Swahili, as ‘Tafadhali’ (line 107), and a substantial silence, showing that the teacher has succeded in curtailing the momentum of the Spanish conversation entirely. The teacher’s request that the students speak Swahili also momentarily designates the classroom as a Swahili-language space, thereby changing the footing (Goffman, 1981), and distinguishing this physical space from the !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 11 Identifying information elided from this transcript. 266 other classes (conducted in Spanish) in African history and political science that also take place within it at different times during the week. The teacher’s priority on Swahili is modeled by his use of Swahili to enter the conversation, ‘mimi nadhani kuwa vitu vya Superama inategemea ni vitu gani’ (lines 107-109 above), expressing an opinion on the costliness of goods at Superama as dependent on the specific item. By line 123 (below), this switch to Swahili appears to encourage Ana to use the language to some extent. Excerpt 17: 110 Ana: Mm.// 111 T: //Kwa sababu, kwa hi—kwa mfano, kuna hiyo ya ‘Great(i) Value’ Because, theref—for example, there is that [brand] ‘Great Value’ 112 Ana: Mm. 113 Xim: Mmhmm. 114 T: ambayo ni vitu vya Walmart amba(vy)o vinauzwa huko, Superama. which is Walmart’s brand 115 which are sold there at Superama. Na mara nyingi, vinakuwa na bei [2.5] ya chini. No, kama ni— And many times, it has a low price. 116 kama ni vitu vingine vya:: [3.0] majina [.] if it’s other things of [other] brands 117 Ana: Hm.// 267 No, if it’s— 118 T: //yanayojulikana [3.0] na kawaida na kuwa zaidi. [2.5] which are known 119 and usually are more. 12 ---- . Allí ----. There está::. [3.0] it i::s. 120 Ana: Entonces, ¿cómo se dice ‘comparar’? [3.0] ¿‘Comparar’? [2.0] Then, how do you say ‘to compare’? ‘To compare’? 121 Xim: ‘Fanana’ ¿no?// ‘Resemble’, right? 122 T: //‘Fananisha’. ‘Compare’. 123 Ana: Ah. Lakini, lakini::: ninafananisha na Chedraui. ((laughs)) Na Ah. But, 124 bu:::t I am comparing to/with Chedraui. ‘Chedraui cuesta menos’. ((la[ughs)) ‘Chedraui costs 125 And T: less’. [No. No, pero de—de—depende otra No. No, but it d—d—depends 126 vez de las cosas allí. Hay—hay cosas en Chedraui también que:: again [on] the things there. There—there are also things at Chedraui 127 a veces no es tan—no es tan bueno. whi::ch sometimes are not so—are not so good. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 12 Identifying information elided from this statement. 268 128 Lun: Es que Superama es igual en precio, pero a veces tiene It’s that Superama is equal in price, but sometimes has 129 cosas importadas, que son las más ca[ras. imported things, which are the most expensive. 130 T: [ ---- 13 Sí. ---- Yes. Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 8 February 2011, lines 110-130 As the teacher continues on Swahili, he mentions the relatively cheaper brand ‘Great(i) Value’ (line 111 above) carried in Superama and Walmart Stores. In pronouncing the brand name with an additional vowel beyond the typical final consonant of Great, he assimilates the English word into a Swahili phonological pattern, potentially displaying an alignment in linguistic practice with other speakers of Swahili, who at times can be observed reproducing CVCV structures in English words appropriated within Swahili-framed speech. At the conclusion of comments on the more expensive prices of popular brand name products (line 118 above), the teacher remarks, ‘Allí está’ (lines 118-119 above), in recognition of having successfully connected his computer to the video projector system. That this pronouncement is made in a language other than the teacher’s first-language is an indication that expressions such as this were becoming acquired by him as a more automatic part of his productive linguistic repertoire. Then, the teacher’s use of Spanish is continued in the next conversational turn when Ana inquires as to the Swahili-language equivalent of comparar (to compare) (line 120). Ana’s use of Spanish could have occurred for multiple reasons: (1) Because !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 13 See note above. 269 of the teacher’s use of Spanish in the previous turn (line 118-119), (2) because she wanted to say the Spanish word ‘comparar’ (line 120) in order to ask after its Swahili equivalent, which the teacher supplies in response to her question (line 122), or—and least likely, (3) in spite of the teacher’s earlier request that they use Swahili, as a sort of resistance. However, the first response to Ana’s question comes from another learner (line 121), potentially because there is no immediate answer from the teacher. Ximena places her suggested Swahili word, a verbal stem with the reciprocal ending -ana, within a Spanish grammatical frame, as illustrated by the Spanish tag that completes the statement: ‘“Fanana”, ¿no?’ (line 121). The teacher then provides a different Swahili verbal stem, deriving from the same verbal root, but with a causative ending in addition to the reciprocal, making -anisha. ‘“Fananisha”’ (line 122) is taken by Ana as the more appropriate choice, for it is reproduced in her later formulation (line 123) in the subsequent turn. This next turn represents the only instance in the discussion of supermarket prices where a learner produces a statement in Swahili that constitutes the expressing of an opinion, a position on the topic of conversation, and contributes to the ongoing talk (as opposed to translating a Spanish word). Says Ana, ‘Lakini, lakini ninafananisha na Chedraui’ (line 123), But, but I am comparing to/with Chedraui, invoking the name (Chedraui) of another local, competing supermarket. Ana then uses Swahili, in the form of the conjunction na (and) to frame the retelling of a popular advertising slogan of Chedraui supermarket stores as reported speech, declaring, ‘Na “Chedraui costs less”’ (lines 123-124) (see Figure 21 below for a promotional advertisement from Chedraui stores). Ana then laughs at her own statement, perhaps thinking it clever or amusing that she has invoked this advertising slogan within the context of Swahiliframed talk. During Ana’ s laughter, the teacher enters into the conversation once again, using 270 Spanish (lines 125-127), a language choice consistent with the Spanish of the previous turn. The use of Spanish then continues thereafter, with an opinion expressed by another student (lines 128-129), Luna, to which the teacher responds in validation, ‘Sí’ (line 130) (Yes). Figure 21. 'En febrero Chedraui cuesta menos, muuucho menos' (In February Chedraui costs less, muuuch less), advertisement from Chedraui stores. Mexico City, Mexico. 5 February 2011. ! 271 Language Choice as Potential Display of Communicative Competence The irony of this exchange is that the same classroom actor who disrupts the use of Spanish in the earlier conversation, demanding that Swahili be used, is the first to return to Spanish to express an opinion within later discussion. Ana is the only learner to comply with the teacher’s request that they should speak Swahili, and the other learners do not enter into Swahili talk (but return once a switch is made back into Spanish). In this way, Ana succeeds in expressing her opinion in Swahili after a checking that she has the appropriate word to say in place of the Spanish comparar. After the request to speak Swahili is made, the other learners, formerly engaged in active conversation, become silent. Their silence may display their lack of confidence, inability, or unwillingness to use Swahili in a communicative capacity on the subject of supermarket prices, or engage in Swahili outside of the formal lesson. This then provides evidence of Swahili regarded among learners as a language of study rather than of communication. Though Ana’s use of Swahili is producing for the teacher exactly what was requested, he overlaps the tail end of her talk with his own Spanish, effectively licensing Luna’s further use of Spanish. It may be out of a desire to portray himself as a Spanish-speaker that the teacher ultimately expresses the continuation of his opinion in Spanish rather than Swahili. If the teacher wanted to, even English or French could be used because everyone in the class is competent in these languages as well. However, they are more inclined to align with one another through the shared choice to use Spanish; on occasion learners might speak English or French with one another in their conversations and asides. Therefore, the teacher’s choice of Spanish seems to illustrate an intersection between language choice as a display of an identity as a competent Spanish-speaker, and a desire to align with native speakers of Spanish in the classroom. 272 This talk may also be viewed as an example of the intersections within the classroom in the display of communicative competence by learners in Swahili, and by the teacher in Spanish. In an interview with one of these learners, I was told that the use of Spanish by the L+ speakerteacher was considered by learners as a point of difficulty in the classroom. Asked if there were any rules about the use of Spanish in the Swahili-language class, ‘la clase’ (line 491 below), Jazmín (Jaz) described the use of L+ Spanish as a situation which was to the benefit of the teacher, and not necessarily the student: Excerpt 18: 491 J: ¿Pero hay una regla de [.] por usar u::h español en la clase aquí? But is there a rule about [.] for using u::h Spanish in the class here? 492 Jaz: M::m. No. 493 J: No. 494 Jaz: ¿O, a qué te refieres con una regla que es [.] ? Or, to who are you referring with a rule that is [.]? 495 J: U::m. ¿Por qué u::m ----14 prefiere hablar español? U::h Why u::h ---- prefers to speak Spanish? 496 Jaz: Pero eso es por su interés personal porque él quiere aprender español. Es But that is for his personal interest becase he wants to learn Spanish. It’s 497 como que su deseo saber y, y lo practica. like his desire/wish to know and, and practice it. Mexico City, Interview with Jazmín, 4 November 4 2010, lines 491-497 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 14 Identifying information elided from this statement. 273 That Jazmín finds there to be no university mandate on what languages must be used in the classroom makes her assessment of the teacher’s purpose for using Spanish to explain Swahili, rather than Swahili, or English or French—other languages these learners are proficient in, all the more striking. The choice of the language of instruction is truly within the teacher’s purview. For entry into the Master’s program, the students are all required to have a certain 15 TOEFL score. In Jazmín’s view, the teacher’s persistence in L+ Spanish is ‘por su interés personal’, (line 496 above), for his personal interest, and ‘su deseo saber’ (line 497), his desire/wish to know. In fact, these comments are a recapitulation of earlier observations Jazmín shared with me during our interview. On this subject, she recalled the earlier days of classes with this teacher, likely thinking back to the first year of the Master’s program, the academic year before this fieldwork began. She said: ‘Al principio era, era, había muchas confusiones por las traducciones que hacíamos’ (lines 341-342). Referring to Swahili-Spanish translations they were completing as part of their coursework, At the beginning it was, it was, there was much confusion [over] the translations we did/made. Following this situation of communication breakdown with the translations, at the time the learners made a voluntary move to complete their work in English, but this was rejected by the teacher: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 15 During our interview, this student commented that all students were required to have taken the Test of English as a Foreign Language (TOEFL). Referring to the expectations of the Master’s program, the student remarked thus: ‘Y creo que como habilidad esperan que inglés porque fue un requisito para entrar a la maestría, tener el TOEFL. Tener cierto puntaje’ (lines 744-747) (And I think that as [an] ability they expect that English [is understood best among students] because it was a requirement for entering the Master’s, to have the TOEFL. To have [a] certain score). 274 Entonces, le decíamos que lo hicimos en inglés y él dice ‘No, no, no. En español porque es su lengua’. Y así empezábamos mal porque lo que él no, no encuentra equivalente al, al inglés, ya no lo encontraba y nos lo tachaba. ¿Entiendes? Mexico City, Interview with Jazmín, 4 November 2010, lines 345-348 So/then, we told him that we did it in English and he said ‘No, no no. In Spanish because it’s your language’. And like that/in that way we were beginning poorly because that which he didn’t, didn’t find [the] equivalent to, to [in] English, already he couldn’t find it and [it confused us]. You understand [what I mean]? In these comments, this student is illustrating how the teacher may have viewed the continued use of Spanish as a benefit to the students, as it was their native language. Here, Spanish is characterized as su lengua, your language, a language that the teacher is not described as having ownership of within this anecdote. Also depicted here is how learners regard themselves as competent in English, willing to complete their translation work in the language if need be. On the subject, however, of the teacher’s choice to use Spanish in class, Jazmín comments further when prompted by my probing question aimed at uncovering her conception of the teacher’s positioning: Excerpt 19: 503 J: U::m. ¿Piensas que [2.0] h::m por qué él quiere aprender español bien? Do you think that [2.0] h::m why does he want to learn Spanish well? 504 ¿Es [.] es u::m like it’s, it’s, does it go, does it get in the way of you Is it [.] is it 505 learning Swahili in that class because he uses Spanish? 275 506 Jaz: [2.0] H::m. I think he [.] is in a way, but it’s not exactly doing well for 507 us, you know? I think [.] he like pro—profeeting, profeeting, 508 aprovechando. taking advantage. 509 J: Profiting. Mmhmm. 510 Jaz: Profiting de opportunity to speak Spanish, to hear Spanish, and [.] of/from 511 of us. ((short laugh)) M::m. And at, and at the same time he thinks that 512 he is like, giving us an extra advantage for using (e)Sp—by using 513 (e)Spanish. But [.] in many cases that is not true. Mexico City, Interview with Jazmín, 4 November 2010, lines 503-513 At this point in the interview, I switched into English in order to succeed in asking my question—in those earlier months of my time in Mexico City, I was less capable in Spanish than I would become by the following summer. My switch to English appears to encourage Jazmín’s use of English in response, something she later described as somewhat of a challenge because most of the wider discourse on the university campus takes place in Spanish: ‘But in our cases, it’s all the time Spanish. Well, no, [they] can shift into English very easily but for me it’s not ((short laugh)) that easy’ (lines 526-528). But within the Swahili-language classroom is where Jazmín takes issue with the teacher’s use of L+ Spanish, finding that it is not an ‘extra advantage’ (line 512 above), because it is more to the teacher’s benefit, enabling ‘Profiting de opportunity to speak Spanish, to hear Spanish, and of us’ (lines 507-511). Altogether, Jazmín’s reflections on the classroom environment portray the use of 276 language, as well as language choice, as crucial to the expression and perception of classroom actors. These comments also show the potential for language choice within this setting to be indexical of the rights and obligations of L1 and L+ Spanish-speakers, whose proficient use of Spanish, the primary language of instruction on campus, and the language of wider communication throughout Mexico City, imparts an insider status that separates gringos (NonSpanish-speaking/White) from hispanohablantes (Native speakers of Spanish). 16 Within this community, the university expects that L2 or L+ hires will work toward becoming fluent in Spanish within two years of their arrival. This puts new instructors and professors in the position of needing to improve their Spanish. Hierarchy of languages in the program. Asked about which languages the African studies program expected that students would have the best abilities in, Jazmín named Spanish first, and then English, divulging how competence in the English language was especially demanded by professors of content courses who would conduct their classes exclusively in English, although they were capable of doing so in Spanish. These same professors would use these classes as opportunities to evaluate students’ abilities in English. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 16 These specific terms of gringos and hispanohablantes do not appear in this interview, but I heard other people at the university use these to refer to others. 277 Excerpt 20: 747 Jaz: Incluso en, en el propedéutico teníamos profesores Including in, in the prepartory course [before the first oficial semester of the program] we had professors 748 que [.] que no querían hablar español. Y que nos decían ‘En las that 749 that didn’t want to speak Spanish. And that told us ‘In the discusiones entre nosotros vamos a hacerlo en inglés’. discussions between us 750 we’re going to do [them] in English’. J: Mm::. 751 Jaz: Y también te evaluaban. Vean si entiendes lo que dicen. And also they were evaluating you. They [would] see if you [were understanding] what they [said]. 752 J: ----17. 753 Jaz: Uh huh. 754 J: Oh. 755 Jaz: No, pero había profesores por ejemplo, no le digas a nadie, pero profesor No, but there were professors for example, don’t tell anyone, but Professor 756 ---- 18 que lleva años viviendo aquí, y que simplemente se dice, y ya who [had been ] living here [for] years, and who always says, and !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 17 Identifying information elided from this statement. 18 See note above. 278 757 habla español, él dice ‘No, yo voy a seguir usando el inglés y no me [by now] he speaks Spanish, he says, ‘No, I’m going to keep using English and 758 importa, ustedes tienen que hablar en inglés’. [2.0] Entonces, supongo que I don’t care, you have to speak 759 in English’. So/then, I suppose that era buena parte saberlo. it was good [on my part] to know it. 760 J: Mmhmm. 761 Jaz: Y aquí, imagínate si hubiera alguien que no supiera inglés. Por lo menos And here, imagine if there was somone that didn’t know English. At the least 762 comprender inglés simple y sencillamente no podría llevar acabo la understanding plain and simple English [they] wouldn’t be able to undertake the 763 maestría. Ni aprender swahili porque e::h los libros que llevamos están Master’s. Nor understand Swahili because e::h the books that we [take on] are 764 en inglés para swahili. in English [for explaining] Swahili. 765 J: Mmhmm. ¿Y los diccionarios? Mmhmm. And the dictionaries? 766 Jaz: Todos los diccionarios están en inglés y [.] por ejemplo, ----19 All the dictionaries are in English and [.] for example, !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 19 See note above. 279 20 767 ---- . 768 Y como tú ves cuando no sabe alguna palabra en español, la dice en ---- . 21 And as you see when he doesn’t know some word in Spanish, he says it in ----. 769 22 Y, pues ---- , ¡definitivamente nos va a hablar en kikuyu! ((laughs)) [.] And, well ----, definitely 770 we [would] speak in Kikuyu! Por eso, como que e::h sí era muy importante y sigue siendo muy Because of that, like e::h yes it was very important and continues being very 771 importante que tengamos cierto dominio de inglés. Y de francés no creo important that we have [a] certain domain of English. And about French I don’t think 772 que es, era importante como requisito de admisión por los, por ciertos that it’s, it was important as [a] admission requirement for the, for certain 773 textos que de repente nos dan en francés. Pero no como una lengua de texts that suddenly they give us in French. But not as a 774 language of conversación. conversation. Mexico City, Interview with Jazmín, 4 November 2010, lines 739-774 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 20 See note above. 21 22 See note above. See note above. 280 As the learners are all native speakers of Spanish, their authenticity in the language is unquestioned within the classroom. Instead, some learners invest in demonstrating themselves to be competent speakers of Swahili and English (to a lesser extent) in the Swahili-language class, even when this entails deferring to the language instructor for assistance, as does Ana in the vignette above. The perception of the Swahili-language instructor, however, as an authentic speaker of Spanish is contested within this environment, because it is known that the teacher is a L+ speaker of the language, and his knowledge of the language is incomplete, leading to confusion in translations of Swahili to Spanish and vice versa. In some cases, this confusion prompts learners to prefer English, which means that some uses of English in class may actually be moves toward the mitigation of miscommunication, and less of demonstrations of communicative competence. The way Jazmín describes the Swahili-language instructor is different from the way other instructors, other ‘profesores’ (line 755 above) at the university are described. These professors are described as capable of conducting their classes in Spanish because they have lived in the City for years, ‘lleva años viviendo aquí’ (line 756), and already speak the language, ‘y ya habla español’ (lines 756-757). And it is these same professors whose practices of exclusive Englishlanguage use require Jazmín’s knowledge of English. A professor of hers told students they have to speak in English, ‘ustedes tienen que hablar en inglés’ (line 758), and for this reason it has been good to know the language, ‘era buena parte saberlo’ (lines 759). But the role of English within the university program is not limited to content courses, for their language textbooks 23 use English to explain Swahili. The bilingual language dictionaries !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 23 Published in the U.S., the language textbook by Hinnebusch and Mirza (1998) has a bit of a ubiquitous presence in Swahili-language classrooms where English can be understood, given its relatively early appearance as a comprehensive text covering a wide range of grammar and 281 are in English as well, and come from the Taasisi ya Uchunguzi wa Kiswahili, known worldwide by the acronym TUKI, the Dar es Salaam Institute for Swahili Research. In this way, the priorities on English in the U.S. (as represented by one of their textbooks) and in Tanzania (as represented by the dictionaries) figure into within the Mexico City classroom, such that they act upon the classroom and compel the use of English, both productively and receptively (see chapter 2 for an example of how dictionary-use figures into classroom talk). Things being the way they are—the global status of English, the lack of textbooks in Swahili for Spanishspeakers—the class has no choice but to use the resources that are available in English. On some occasions I observed how, in the Swahili-language class when learners wanted to know the meaning of a particular Swahili word they would first have to look it up in the Swahili-English dictionary, and then use an English-Spanish dictionary to look for a Spanish equivalent. For all of these reasons, this student represents the language learning experience as inextricably linked to the knowledge of English. Regarding the first languages of some professors in the African studies program, the student goes on to jokingly speculate that the class might find itself relying one day on English the same as Kikuyu. However, Spanish remains ubiquitous as the language of wider communication throughout the university campus, and Jazmín comes to the conclusion that English exerts a particular influence over the program, ‘Por eso, como que e::h sí era muy importante y sigue siendo muy importante que tengamos cierto dominio de inglés’ (lines 770771 above). This is an influence that French, another language required for admission to the !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! vocabulary (even as several textbooks have since appeared). This was the textbook used in my first courses in Swahili, where I studied the language at a U.S. university. When I saw that the text was being used in the Mexico City classroom, it immediately brought back to me memories my own experience of studying Swahili, and it remained a point of familiarity for me in this new classroom. 282 program, does not command, because it largely remains a reading language, not a language of conversation, ‘una lengua de conversación’ (lines 773-774). Closing Considerations The stories of the learning of Swahili in Dar es Salaam and Mexico City build into a complex account of social investments in language learning. As the vignettes from this chapter show, the Swahili-language classroom serves as a limited conduit for the display (or attempted display) of competence in Swahili, as well as other languages: English and Korean in Dar es Salaam, and Spanish (as well as English) in Mexico City. In Dar es Salaam beginning-level classroom practices in supplying commentary, directives, and metalinguistic explanation in English, provide learners with more opportunities to participate through communicative displays of English-language knowledge. Teachers’ predominant uses of English limit potential opportunities for learners to perform in Swahili. The use of English also overshadows the situations in which learners do show an ability to comprehend and produce Swahili. The case is similar in Mexico City, where the use of Spanish by the teacher intersects with the learner display of competence in Swahili. The vignettes from Mexico City offer a contrastive view of the language classroom wherein under varying circumstances the learners Ana and Ximena are encouraged to use Swahili for communication between each other. A more Spanish-dominant environment in a separate class meeting precludes this type of Swahili-language use. In the chapters to follow, as these stories of language learning continue to unfold, this research explores the methodology and ideological foundation of teaching an African language in a postcolonial world of overlapping Diasporas, networks, imagined communities, and identities. As the details of this study will reveal, the multilingual settings in which Swahili is 283 taught have strong bearing on the lasting relationships learners build with Africa, and an ability to perpetuate racialized language ideologies. 284 Chapter 4 Teaching Storytelling in Dar es Salaam: The (Re)invention of Hadithi as Lie, Conformity, and Resistance 611 T: Kwa hiyo ni vizuri sana kwa utamaduni, hasa1 hapa kwetu . 612 [Lakini, angalizo. [.] That is, n.b., [2.0] Kwa sasa, ni vigumu pia 613 614 Ss: [ T: kupata watoto wanaosimulia, na hao wanaofahamu kwa 615 sababu ya:: ((raises voice)) maendeleo. Watu wanapenda sana [.] 616 kusikiliza muziki:, kuangalia labda fila:m(u) [.] lakini zile hadithi za, 617 kusimuliwa kwa mdomo, ‘A::h. You are wasting my time! You 618 know, mimi nimezaliwa kipindi cha kompyuta! Kwa hiyo napotezea 619 muda! Kwa sababu unazungumza, unazungumza.’ Kwa hiyo 620 watoto, ukasikia wanawaambia bibi: au babu:, ‘A:h! Bibi unapenda 621 kuzungumza. Unazungumza sa-na!’ Kwa hiyo:, kido:go utamaduni 622 wa kusimulia hadithi, kwetu kama Tanzania, unapungua. ((quieter)) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 1 See Appendix for transcription conventions. 285 623 Unapungua. ((faint)) Unapungua. ((normal voice)) Lakini hadithi 2 Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline , 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 611-623 Introduction Having spent the day rehearsing the telling of stories to each other, the language learners in Dar es Salaam find themselves on the receiving end of a sermon from their teacher, or 3 mwalimu, Magdeline , who shares her observations as a more experienced story practitioner and Tanzanian insider. Over the course of her description of the value of storytelling as a vehicle for ‘utamaduni’ (culture) (line 611 above), the teacher tells learners that ‘maendeleo’ (development) (line 615) is interrupting this directional process of knowledge transmission between elders and youth. As Mwalimu Magdeline puts it, the younger generations want to listen to music and watch movies, but not listen to stories told by mouth: ‘Watu wanapenda sana kusikiliza muziki, kuangalia labda filamu lakini zile hadithi za, kusimuliwa kwa mdomo’ (lines 615-617 above). These same people, according to the teacher, often point to their having been born during the age of computers, the digital age: ‘A::h. You are wasting my time! You know, mimi nimezaliwa kipindi cha kompyuta!’ (line 617-618). They also find storytelling to be a waste of time, ‘Kwa hiyo napotezea muda!’ (lines 618-619). These observations have led the teacher to conclude that !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 2 For the protection of participants in this study, pseudonyms are used in reference their identities. In the case of participants who used chosen Swahili names on a regular basis, their names are used here in acknowledgement of their Swahili-language identities. These names are: Aisha (Ai), Bahati (Bah), Bakari (Bak), Elda (not a participant, though mentioned), Eloise, Felix, Gladys, Hamisi (Ham), Happiness (Hap), Ivy, Kristin, Lulu, and Magdeline. 3 See note above. At the time, there was more than one female Tanzanian teacher of Swahili at the intermediate level. 286 ‘utamaduni wa kusimulia hadithi’ (line 621-622), the culture of storytelling, has declined, ‘unapungua’ (lines 622-623), in places like Tanzania. The teacher punctuates her description of this decline by dramatically lowering her voice as she repeats ‘unapungua’ (it’s lowering/fading) (lines 622-623). The language teacher is not alone in her observations. Elsewhere in Tanzania, elders and teachers can also be heard lamenting that children ‘get their stories from school now’, that ‘there 4 is no storytelling’ (Brower, 2001, p. 6). This is how we hear the voices of local residents in Lowell Brower’s account of storytelling activity in Chole Mjini, a small island community of Tanzania, located in the Mafia archipelago. Many of Chole’s 800 community members cited the recent influx of outside visitors and tourists, and the building of the formal primary school as reasons for the decrease in the telling of stories. As one resident put it: If a child hears a story like this and goes to tell his father; his father will hit him or tell him, ‘don’t believe those stories of the past like these!’ Now, they think that these stories don’t work anymore. They think that the only stories that work are the ones that the teachers teach in schools. No one wants to listen to these stories of lies anymore. They don’t see the truth inside of them. (Brower, 2001, p. 17) Such ‘stories of lies’ or hadithi za uwongo, as they are regarded in the Swahili, come across as allegories for the most part, and can include creation myths, tales of human heroes, and moral narratives replete with animal tricksters and talents. Chole elders are the most likely members of their community to tell children these stories, or so they used to be. The place of the story among older community members is such that it is common to say, ‘Ukitoa hadithi, nitakujua’ (If you !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 4 These quotes are taken from Brower’s 2001 account of storytelling in Chole Mjini, wherein the people of community are quoted in translation. All quoted interview data from Brower’s study cited here are presented in his translation, as original Swahili data were not provided in his accounts. 287 tell me a story, I’ll know who you are) (Brower, 2001, p. 5), acknowledging that to tell a story well, with good content, is a tenet of communicative competence in their Swahili-speaking community, and accordingly commands respect. Still, the currently changing spheres of influence in and on the community are managing to shift practice and revise notions of the place of storytelling in socialization norms. It is perhaps because of this general, observed decline in the telling of stories that the teacher of Swahili language in Dar es Salaam wants to push back against this change, and inculcate a sense of the importance of storytelling culture among her students by directing them to tell their own stories within specific linguistic and stylistic parameters. It may be that the teacher is attempting to pass on the storytelling skill to these new Swahili-speakers, as she would to children in her home community. Under the teacher’s direction, the telling of stories becomes a measure of Standard Swahili communicative competence within the classroom community, as these learners move from forms of legitimate peripheral participation as story-listeners during the morning class to take on greater responsibility as storytellers in the afternoon class. Each learner’s story receives its own critique by the teacher, which characterizes the storyteller’s effort as a success or underachievement. Close reading and analysis of the interaction between classroom actors during the telling of these stories and afterwards demonstrates how these learners’ stories and language use may be interpreted as metaphors for their personal journeys to assert unique, agentive selves through the social performance of Swahili language within the larger contexts of Dar es Salaam and Tanzania. To this end, this chapter offers an acute perspective on the positioning of learners within storytelling activity, examining how assertions of power and authenticity regulate language use and code choice in the classroom. The excerpts of classroom talk presented in this chapter come 288 from about 92 minutes of corresponding audio and video recordings. Several hours of interviews with learners and instructors also contribute to the interpretation of these classroom data, though the whole of my longterm experience as participant-observer in Dar es Salaam (and previous travel and study in Tanzania) informs my exploration of these data. Classroom storytelling is examined herein through a microanalysis of the teacher’s concept of hadithi ya Kiswahili as Swahili-language story, as well as the three phases of the storytelling lesson as related speech events in guided repetition, storytelling scripts, post-story activity, and the telling of selfauthored stories. These speech events all occur on the same day over the course of two separate class meetings. By following the storytelling activity from its initiation by the teacher to its completion in the learners’ performances of their own stories, and the teacher’s response to these stories, this chapter presents a full view of how the Swahili-language classroom in Dar es Salaam becomes engaged in the apprenticeship of learners into the culturally salient art of storytelling. This chapter’s microanalysis is further contextualized by a thorough review of relevant sociolinguistic history of storytelling as oral literature and a variety of speech genre in Swahiliphone Africa. These contextual details reveal storytelling in the Swahili language to be a highly valued cultural event, which has direct implications on the (re)production of the story in the language classroom as oral literature. With this wider context under consideration, it can be seen that in the language classroom hadithi, the story, becomes something of what Brower (2010) portends—it is officialized as a specific script of activity, and codified as a morallydriven speech event: hadithi ya Kiswahili. In effect, the Swahili-language story as performance script is invented, or transplanted by the teacher from the elder-child family setting to the classroom community to be representative of the ‘traditional’ Swahili oral literature canon. 289 Each time it is performed, the trope of the Swahili-language story is in dialogic conversation (Bakhtin, 1981, 1986) with (1) the imagined ideal of the Swahili storyteller as moral figurehead; (2) the speech genres it draws upon: methali (proverbs) and vitendawili (riddles); and (3) the signature characters it revisits: the insolent child, the animal trickster, and the blundering fool. At the same time, the separate and distinct stories that each learner shares within the frame of the established script accomplish a discursive portrayal of their worldview through the lens of their geographic and participatory position (with)in the Swahiliphone world (Garrett & Baquedano-López, 2002; Ochs & Capps, 1996). Within a view of storytelling and self-narration as socialization practice, Miller, Fung, and Mintz (1996, p. 238) conclude: …language is not merely a methodological tool for revealing the categorical self: it is the means by which selves are created and transformed through the dual capacity of language to be both reflective of and embedded in interpersonal experience. Along these lines, it follows that the analysis I present herein of stories as told by the learnerspeaker should go beyond a recounting of their direct content. I therefore strive in this interpretation to take account of multiple factors contributing to the construction of meaning in the performance of story as oral literature in the classroom setting. In this chapter, the specific performances of six Dar es Salaam learners are presented through their narrative storytelling performance and participation in after-story talk: Felix, Aisha, Bahati, Gladys, Bakari, and Hamisi. In the morning class, the teacher begins by instructing learners in what the hadithi ya Kiswahili is, and follows her explanation with an exemplar, the story of Bwana Kulakula (Mister Eateat), a foolhardy man whose extreme overeating lands him in the hospital. Felix, a Black Ghanaian learner, is the first volunteer to paraphrase this story, and uses Swahili, scaffolded by Swahili input from the teacher. Then, Aisha, a Chinese learner, is 290 called upon by the teacher to do the same, and responds with a single statement on the moral message of the story exemplar. At the end of the morning class, the teacher instructs the learners to prepare their own stories to perform in the afternoon class. When the class reconvenes that afternoon, Bahati, a White Italian learner, uses a methali (proverb) in her story of a mother and her disobedient child, and afterwards Gladys, a Black Ghanaian learner, invokes the anansesεm themes of her Accra childhood in a story of her own. In the word analysis resulting from Gladys’ story, Bakari’s attempts to use Swahili beyond storytelling activity are not encouraged by the teacher. Later, Hamisi, in his turn as the third and final storyteller of the day, uses hadithi as an opportunity to put a riddle or dilemma to his audience. Bakari and Hamisi are both Chinese learners from mainland China. Towards the end of the afternoon class, when the teacher prompts learners on what differences there may be between Swahili-language stories and those of other languages, the Ghanaian learners use Swahili, English, and Twi to share information about similarities with Twi-language stories or anansesεm. As they do this, they have a brief, private exchange among themselves using Twi as a means of communication. Altogether, these speech events highlight how negotiations for meaning take place in this language classroom, as well as how intersubjectivity manifests in the social performance of story. A summary of these speech events and their related dimensions of communicative competence as demonstrated by learners in the morning class is presented in Table 7 below; speech events from the afternoon class are presented in Table 8 (cf. Hornberger, 1989). These speech events are presented in Table 7 and Table 8 with reference to the elements of communicative competence they encompass including linguistic knowledge, interaction skills, and cultural knowledge (Saville-Troike, 2003). The word analysis speech events, as 291 comprehension checks mostly initiated by the teacher, in addition to the guided repetition of storytelling scripts, largely resemble interaction—response—evalution (IRE) sequences (e.g., Arthur & Martin, 2006; Lightbown & Spada, 2011; Mehan, 1979; Sinclair & Coulthard, 1975) The order of these speech events in Table 5 and Table 6 mirrors their sequential order in the morning and afternoon meetings of this same intermediate Swahili class; this is the same order of presentation followed throughout this chapter as excerpts of classroom talk are presented through a series of ethnographic vignettes. Owing to these observations of storytelling socialization both through and into ‘correct’ language use, I propose here that the classroom activity I participated in while in Dar es Salaam is representative of explicit storytelling socialization. This is similar to what Moore (2006) observed in Maroua, Cameroon, except that here in Dar es Salaam, the process is enveloped into the larger project of apprenticeship of adult, novice community outsiders into the Swahili language. While child novices in Maroua are instructed in the storytelling of a community defined by their own Fulani-speaking family elders, the language learners in Dar es Salaam are not ordinarily born into the speech community to which they seek entry, further complicating their apprenticeship process. The teaching of hadithi in the Swahili-language classroom occurs with the teacher addressing a classroom of students in Dar es Salaam, whereas in Maroua it typically involves one-on-one interaction between expert storyteller and novice, much in the way verses of the Qu’ran are formally rehearsed (Moore, 2006). Though the end result in both Maroua and Dar es Salaam is the near memorization of the story exemplar by learners (I practically memorized the story after having participated in its re-telling seven times), the nature of the university in Dar es Salaam, with its many novices in one classroom (rather than a single learner), motivates the teacher to require choral responses to the story opener, and check for 292 understanding by calling upon individual students to translate discrete words and generate a plot summary. Following Voloshinov (1973, 1976) and Bakhtin (1981, 1986), the use of language involves the (re)coding of discourse such that one speaks through their lens of subjectivity. This new voice then comes into contact with other subjectivities, other spoken points of view, and linguistic codes, making the understanding of intersubjectivities relevant in the interpretation of utterances. With the self both ‘socially constructed and individually experienced’ through language (Pietikänen & Dufva, 2006, p. 207), one’s voice is linked to their social representation, which in turn, may be interpreted as a facet of their social identity. Within this same framework it is also reasonable to anticipate that there may be multiple subjectivities at play in one setting, allowing for a multi-voicedness to develop for a particular speaker. While revoicing can be seen as a tool in language socialization practice, such as in storytelling routines (Moore, 2004, 2006, 2011), it should also be viewed as activity important in the construction of the self by the novice speaker, possibly as outlined by other more expert storytellers. Conformity to and resistance against these types of repetition and revoicing routines by new Swahili-speakers can themselves speak to concepts of Swahili-language identity local to the individual. 293 Table 5. Sequence of key speech events concerning Standard Swahili and English communicative competence in morning intermediate Swahili class, in terms of linguistic knowledge (L) interaction skills (I), cultural knowledge (C). Dimension of Morning Communicative Competence, Demonstrated 19 December 2011 1. Competence Story Exemplar: Bwana Kulakula by Learners? How to tell the story (1) I – responding to Swahili through rehearsal of Yes instructions with Swahili storytelling scripts 2. Paraphrasing of the (1) L – self-correction in Swahili story, learners put the Yes (2) I – responding to Swahili Yes story into own words 3. instructions and prompts Expressing an (1) L – Swahili understood by others Yes (2) C – appropriate evaluation of story Yes evaluation of the story’s moral (Felix and Aisha) 294 Table 6. Sequence of key speech events concerning Standard Swahili and English communicative competence in afternoon intermediate Swahili class, in terms of linguistic knowledge (L) interaction skills (I), cultural knowledge (C), and story completion (SC). Dimension of Afternoon Communicative Competence, Demonstrated by 19 December 2011 Learners’ Stories Learners? Mtoto Sitaki (1) L – Swahili understood by others Yes by Bahati 1. Competence (2) I – performing storytelling script to involve audience, responding to Yes Swahili prompts (3) C – performing of methali Yes (proverb) to impart a moral message (4) SC –not long enough 2. Paka na Pan(y)a by Gladys No (1) L – Swahili understood by others (2) I – performing of storytelling Yes script to involve audience (3) C – including personified animal characters in story to impart a moral Yes message (4) SC –long enough, or too long 295 Yes Table 6 (cont’d) 3. Retelling of (1) L – translation, scaffolded by Gladys’ story by English input from teacher and Bahati in English Gladys 4. Word analysis of Yes (1) L - explanation of word meaning No kunenepa’ in Swahili not accepted by teacher (from Gladys’ (2) L – translation of word into story) by Bakari 5. Attempt at Swahili Yes English accepted by teacher (1) I – performing of storytelling script to involve audience, storytelling by Yes responding to Swahili prompts, Felix apologizing in Swahili and English (2) SC – no story told 6. No Mwizi na Jengele (1) L – Swahili understood by others Yes by Hamisi (2) I – performing of storytelling script and use of kitendawili (riddle) Yes to involve audience (3) C – use of an idiot thief as moral Yes & No character (4) SC – moral message not clear No 296 Table 6 (cont’d) Explanation of (1) L – Swahili understood by others 7. Twi-language Yes in reponse to teacher’s prompt story by Gladys Explanation of 8. (1) L – English understood by others Tw-language in expansion of Gladys’ explanation story by Felix of anansesεm 297 Yes Hearing the Call of the Story Whereas children in an intimate, family setting might sit gathered around an elder or parent to hear a story told, the learners in the Swahili-language classroom in Dar es Salaam are constricted to their immobile, fixed desk rows while the teacher stands in front of them. Four desk rows painted in an orangey yellow span the length of the room apart from the lectern and blackboard in the very front, the door in the rear, and the outer wall, lined with its slatted, tropical-style louver windows. If this classroom layout could have gotten in the way of speaking exuberantly through story, you wouldn’t have known it because of the teacher’s considerable vocal inflection and wide use of gestures in the animated explanation of how to initiate a Swahili-language story. With great excitement, the teacher pointed to her newly chalked words on the board as she directed us all in repeating the story opener after her: ‘Hadithi, hadithi. Hadithi njoo, uwongo njoo, utamu kolea!’ Since that day was a Monday we would find ourselves together again in the afternoon for another class meeting. Decided long ago at the start of the semester through consensus, the class would meet twice on Mondays and once on Thursdays to work around the students’ varied class schedules at the university. On a good day the classroom seats would be occupied by as many as 20 students. Sometimes less. After some two consecutive, unannounced teacher absences, a substitute teacher (another regular language instructor at the university) led the Monday classes on this particularly humid day in December. The semester was nearly finished, and we learned from our new mwalimu that our previous mwalimu was away at another university on business and would not be returning for a while. And this could have been part of the reason why our new teacher arrived with a fresh, as yet uncharted topic for the semester: storytelling. On that day there were 18 students in the morning class (including the Chinese learners – 5, Ghanaian 298 learners – 5, Italian learner – 1, in addition to learners from Canada – 1, the U.S. – 2, France – 1, and Germany – 2). In the afternoon class there were 12 learners (including the Chinese learners – 5, Ghanaian learners – 5, and Italian learner – 1, in addition to one learner from Canada). That day was a busy day for me, too, as field researcher, because I had just been able to schedule—in an ad-hoc sort of way—interviews with Bahati, and later with Hamisi and Bakari in between our morning and afternoon classes. I always carried my digital camera and audiorecorder with me to campus along with extra SanDisks and AA batteries, not only to capture classroom dialogue, but also for the off-chance I might get in an interview over bottled Fanta, the morning’s fried maandazi snacks, or a lunch of pilau rice, beans, chipsi, and kabeji. On one occasion, as I was interviewing a learner during lunch in the outside seating of one of the campus cafes, a small, gray monkey scrambled down a pole near to our table, looked me in the eye for a split second, and then reached out and grabbed a handful of my chipsi, my French fries, and then ran back up the pole with them! You always had to be on the lookout for other interview participants of the simian persuasion. Such was my participatory experience with the intermediate Swahili-language students of this classroom community. I have since come to understand that my repeated encounters with hadithi (story) in that classroom setting are not so distant from the experiences of younger, Tanzanian-born speakers of the language. Our university classroom, while perhaps not the truest approximation of the spontaneous settings in which casual language use often occurs, still presented a genuine opportunity for the transfer of knowledge between we learners and our Tanzanian instructor. After the teacher was finished with telling her own story, she then called upon individual students to come to the front of the classroom, assume the role of the storyteller, and call out to us ‘Hadithi, hadithi’. Without these words, the story could go no further, and it 299 was the teacher who made that clear. She would assert herself as expert within the classroom community by making sure that the practice of storytelling was being carried on in the correct way. We were all of us novices, having never before heard the call of ‘Hadithi, hadithi’. Ethnographic Vignette #1: How to Tell The Story (Morning Class) The teacher begins the lesson with the introduction of the particular concept of hadithi ya Kiswahili, which I translate here as Swahili-language story because of the teacher’s later juxtaposition of this concept with that of other languages during the afternoon class, as specifically designated through the use of the Swahili prefix Ki-, denoting language. However, in the morning class, the teacher only goes so far as to refer to stories by their corresponding languages. The teacher first asks the class if they are familiar with hadithi (story), as in the question, ‘Nani anajua “hadithi”?’ (line 19 below) (Who knows ‘hadithi’?). Then, after a brief, almost undetectable pause, she elaborates, asking if anyone knows what a Swahili-language story is: ‘Nani anajua “hadithi ya Kiswahili”?’ (lines 19-20). Receiving no immediate verbal responses from learners, she puts the question specifically to Bahati, asking ‘Wewe unajua hadithi ya Kiingereza? Hadithi ya Kiingereza? Ya Kiitaliano? Unajua?’ (lines 21-22) (Do you know [what an] English-language story [is]? [An] English-language story? [An] Italian one? Do you 5 know?). There is actually no audible response from Bahati, and the teacher goes on to address the class again, telling everyone that they will be learning hadithi ya Kiswahili that day. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 5 I translate these questions as Do you know what … is? even though the specific words what or is are not in the phrase as nini and ni, respectively, because this was a typical question format from language teachers who were asking learners what a word or concept meant or translated as in English. 300 Excerpt 1: 13 T: Karibu! Welcome! 14 [2.5] 15 Sa:sa::, [.] leo:: tunajifunza:: kuhusu:: hadi:thi:. Now today we’re learning about stories. 16 S: ((speaking in German to another learner)) 17 T: [Tunajifunza kuhusu nini? We are learning about what? 18 Ss: Hadi[thi. Stories. 19 T: [Hadithi. Nani anajua ‘hadithi’? [.] Nani anajua ‘hadithi ya Stories. Who knows ‘story’? 20 Who knows Kiswahili’? [.] Mmoja. Ya Kiswahili? [.] Una ha—hadithi ya Kiswahili, 6 [what a] ‘Swahili-language story’ [is]? One [person]. [A] Swahili-language [one]? [.] You have [a] stor—Swahili-language story, 21 ((to Bahati)) wewe unajua hadithi ya Kiingereza? Hadithi ya 7 do you know [an] English-language story? [An] !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 6 The teacher recognizes here that someone (a learner) has indicated a familiarity with the concept, but this person is not captured within the vantage point of the video recording. 7 In the recorded video, the teacher comes to stand directly in front where Bahati is seated in the first row, and looks at her as she asks her question. It is not clear whether Bahati is asked because she is the same person who earlier indicated a familiarity with hadithi ya Kiswahili (line 301 22 Kiingereza? Ya Kiitaliano? Unajua? Au unajua hadithi ya: English-language story? [An] Italian [one]? Do you know? Or do you know [a] story of 23 Kiingereza pia. ((to class)) Lakini, sisi leo tunata:ka: English too. 24 But, we today we want kujifunza: ((bobs body)) hadi:thi: [.] ya: Ki-[swa-hi:-li. to learn Swahili-language stories. 25 S: [((smiles, pumps both arms in air over head)) 26 T: Na mimi leo nimekuja na hadithi. Sijui mbaya au nzuri, kuhusu And I 27 today I’ve come with [a] story. I don’t [if it’s] bad or good, about . Lakini nina hadithi ha:pa:, ((holds up page)) mo:ja:. Ninataka But 28 I have [a] story here, one. nisome hadi:thi. Hapa kusoma? ((lowers voice)) Hadithi. [.] ((lower [that] I [should] read [a] story. Here to read? 29 [A] story. still)) Ya Kiswahili. ((normal voice)) Sasa. Kwa hiyo, wewe (?) Of Swahili language. 30 I want Now. Therefore, you (?) ((looking at Bahati)) usikilize (?) hadithi ya Kiswahili, na, ba-ada ya 8 you [all] should listen (?) [to the] Swahili-language story, and, after !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 20 above), or if she is asked because she is in the teacher’s line of eyesight as the teacher finishes pacing the front of the room to stand in front of her. 8 It was not uncommon to observe Swahili-speakers (and teachers) using the second person singular to refer to the second person plural, as a means of addressing a class. 302 31 hadithi hii, nitauliza maswa:li kuhu:su hii hadithi. ((shakes page)) this story, I will ask questions about this story. 32 Umeelewa? Au bado? Kama bado, nitasoma te:na:,mara ya pili. 9 Have you [all] understood? Or not yet? If not yet, I will read [it] again, [for the] second time. 33 Sawa? Okay. 34 Ss: ((some nodding)) Sawa. Okay. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Morning, lines 13-34 From the start of the class, following her greeting to learners entering the room (line 13 above), the teacher makes it clear that the topic for the day will be about stories. She says this in the very beginning, ‘Sa:sa:: [.] leo:: tunjifunza:: kuhusu hadi:thi:’ (line 15) drawing out the last two syllables of the word for story with a stress, to emphasize this subject of the day’s lesson. This same emphasis is performed later in line 24 when the teacher bobs her body, to give visual dimension to her segmental wording of hadithi ya Kiswahili in its constituent syllables: ‘hadi:thi: [.] ya: Ki-swa-hi:-li. Though speakers of Swahili regularly put a stress on the penultimate syllable of all words (with only a few exceptions), the teacher’s performance goes beyond this to deliver a dramatic effect. Overlapping with the teacher’s delivery of Kiswahili (line 24), is a learner’s show of excitement for the topic of day: a smile and two arms pumped up and down !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 9 See above note. 303 into air above her head. This would indicate that at least one learner was interested in learning more about these Swahili-language stories, which the teacher sets up in opposition with Englishand Italian-language stories in line 21-23 with the use of ‘Lakini’ (But). The Swahili-language story is different—it must be learned, and the teacher will show the learners how it is done. Then, the teacher lets everyone know that she has brought a story with her to read to the class (line 26). She explains further, stressing again through a lowered voice that this story she has with her is a ‘Hadithi’ ‘Ya Kiswahili’ (lines 28-29). Returning to her normal tone of voice, she explains that she will read the story to the class, and afterwards if not everyone has undertstood it, she will read it a again for a second time, ‘mara ya pili’ (line 32) (second time). She checks that the learners have understood her explanation of the task to come, asking ‘Sawa?’ (line 33), and receiving confirmation in the reply of ‘Sawa’ and nodding from some learners (line 34). This leads into the next excerpt below where the teacher responds to the learners with a thumbs up sign and nodding of her own, as she declares that after this class she thinks they will all know how to prepare Swahili-language stories (lines 35-36 below). The teacher’s statements link to a longer explanation of the Hadithi ya Kiswahili, which continues in the remainder of the excerpt below. Excerpt 2: 35 T: ((gives thumbs up sign, nods)) Nafikiri baada ya darasa hili, I think that after this class, 36 [3.0] tutajua: namna ya [.] kuandaa hadithi za Kiswahili. Hadithi za we will know how 37 to prepare Swahili-language stories. Kiswahili zinakuwa zinaanza na [.] maneno (?) ya kutangulia, like Swahili-language stories begin with [.] words 304 of introduction, 38 an introduction. Kido:go. Na maneno hayo:, ((turns to chalkboard, A little bit. With those words 39 scratches head)) h:m Mwalimu mbaya. Hana chaki. ((depressed voice)) h:m bad Teacher. 40 She doesn’t have chalk. Where could it be? Mwalimu hana chaki. Teacher doesn’t have chalk. 41 T: Oh. ((points to learner in rear)) Huyu mwalimu sasa. ((retrieves This [person’s the] teacher now. 42 43 chalk from Kristin)) Kr: ((laughs)) Hapana. No. 44 T: Asante sana. Maneno ((writing on chalkboard)) yanakuwa, ‘Hadithi: Thank you very much. [The] words 45 [go], ‘Story hadithi. Hadithi:: [.] njoo. Uwongo [.] njoo. Utamu [.] kolea!’ Unaona? story. Story come. Lie come. Sweetness [.] stir in!’ You [all] see? 46 Unaona? Kwa hiyo:, ukitaka kuanza kusimulia—‘kusimulia’? You [all] see? Therefore, if you want to start narrating/telling—‘to narrate/tell’? 47 ‘Kusimulia’? To narrate. To narrate a story. Ya:h, ukitaka ‘To narrate/tell’? 48 Ya:h, if you want kusimulia hadithi ya Kiswahili, kwanza, ((points to board)) utasema to narrate/tell [a] Swahili-language story, first 305 you will say 49 maneno haya as an introduction. Kwa hiyo unasema, h:m ‘Hadithi, these words 50 Therefore you say, h:m ‘Story, hadithi’, [.] huyu ni: [.] msimuliaji (?) [.] Hapa. ((writes on board)) story’. 51 This [person] is [.] [the] narrator/storyteller (?) [.] Here. ‘Msimuliaji’? ‘Narrator/storyteller’? 52 Kr: [3.0] E::h ‘msimuli-aji’. E::h ‘narrator/storyteller’? 53 54 Ss: T: [((writes on board)) Hapa [.] ‘msi:-muli-aji’? Here [is the] ‘narrator’? Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Morning, lines 35-54 The teacher’s next move is to introduce the Swahili-language story as being necessarily begun with ‘maneno ya kutangulia, like an introduction’ (lines 37-38 above). These introductory words, or ‘maneno’ as she refers to them (lines 37, 38, 44 above) are what someone says in order ‘To narrate. To narrate a story’ (line 47). More specifically, the teacher directs the learners that if they want to narrate or tell a story, they will first say these words as an introduction: ‘Ya:h, ukitaka kusimulia hadithi ya Kiswahili, kwanza utasema maneno haya as an introduction’ (lines 48-49). Throughout this statement, she underscores, with stress on particular word syllables, how this type of introduction is particular to Swahili-language stories, and is the first thing that is said when telling a story. The English phrases ‘like as introduction’ (line 38), ‘To narrate. To narrate a story’ (line 47), and ‘as an introduction’ (line 49) appear to be her way of supplementing a 306 largely Swahili explication of the task of the storyteller, and encouraging the comprehensibility of her statements. Though none of the learners specifically asks for English translation, these switches into English are part of this teacher’s typical practice of enhancing her Swahili explanations, as they appear after equivalent or similar phrases have been said in Swahili, as in ‘maneno ya kutangulia’ (line 37), ‘Kusimulia’ (line 47), ‘kwanza’ (line 48). At first, the explanation of these introductory words is interrupted when the teacher cannot find chalk to write with. This is evident in the teacher’s act of scratching her head as she looks for chalk, and in her use of the second person to refer to herself in line 39 as ‘Mwalimu mbaya’ (Bad teacher), who ‘Hana chaki’ (She doesn’t have chalk). The teacher seems to wonder aloud to herself in English, performing an animation of her inner thoughts in line 40 before stating again that she does not the chalk, though this is soon remedied by Kristin (Kr) a learner who locates a piece of chalk and hands it to the teacher. Acknowledge Kristin’s help, the teacher says, ‘Huyu mwalimu sasa’ (line 41) (This [person’s the] teacher now), a pronouncement of praise and non-serious offer to exchange roles that Kristin disowns lightheartedly, laughing as she returns with ‘Hapana’ (line 43) (No). Still, the teacher thanks her all the same, saying ‘Asante sana’ (line 44) (Thank you very much). This playful exchange between the teacher and Kristin helps to illustrate the class as a friendly environment in which the teacher was willing to joke with learners and exaggerate her inability to locate a piece of chalk. The entirety of the above excerpt also characterizes this class as one in which the use of English was not unheard of, in casual or more didactic usages. In the continuation of this explanation of the role the msimuliaji, the narrator or storyteller, the teacher uses English to supplement her explanation (lines 56, 57). Then the 307 teacher points to what she has already written out on the board, the call and response routine that 10 is will become what the class rehearses in the next part of the lesson : HADITHI HADITHI HADITHI  MSIMULIAJI (NARRATOR) NJOO UONGO 11 UTAMU NJOO KOLEA The teacher uses these words on the chalkboard to explain the roles of the ‘Narrator’ (line 56 below) and the ‘audience’ (line 57). The bracket to the left of the words is what the teacher drew in what I understand to have been an indication that all of these words were part of the same formula. Excerpt 3: 54 T: [((writes on board)) Hapa [.] ‘msi:-muli-aji’? Here 55 56 [is the] ‘narrator’? Ss: ((quietly)) T: Narrator? The one narrating the stories? Lakini pia:, haya ma— But 57 also, these wor— haya maneno, lilikuwa audience ((waves hand at learners)) kwa these words, they are [for the] audience for !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 10 This account of what was on the chalkboard at the time comes from my field notes, as it is not quite visible in the recorded video. 11 The spelling uongo is an accepted variant of uwongo, both meaning the same in the English as lie. 308 58 wale wanaosikiliza hadithi. Kwa hiyo mimi nitasema ((points to those who listen to [the] story. Therefore I will say 59 board)), ‘Hadithi, hadithi’ ((points to students)) nyinyi mtasema ‘Story, 60 story’ you all will say ((points to board)) ‘Hadithi njoo. Uwongo njoo. Utamu kolea!’ [.] ‘May the story come. May the lie come. Enhance the sweetness!’[.] 61 Kolea! ((short laugh)) ‘Hadithi, hadithi’. ((points to board)) ‘Hadithi Enhance! 62 ‘Story, story’ ‘May the story njoo, uwongo njoo, utam(u) (?) [.] kolea.’ Ujaribu? come. May the lie come. Enhance (?) [.] the sweetness.’ [Should/Shall]you try? 63 Unaweza kujaribu? Haya. Hadithi, hadithi! Can you try? 64 Okay. Story, story! Ss: Hadi[thi ((fading voices)) njoo. May the story come. 65 T: [((louder)) Hadithi njoo. [Uwongo njoo. May the story come. May the lie come. 66 Ss: [Uwongo njoo. May the lie come. 67 T: ((louder still)) [Utamu kolea! Enhance the sweetness! 309 68 Ss: [Utamu kolea. Enhance the sweetness. 69 T: Ndiyo. Tena kidogo! Hadithi, hadithi! ((outstretches hand to class)) Yes. 70 Again just a little bit! Story, story! Ss: Hadithi njoo, uwongo njoo, utamu kolea. May the story come, may the lie come, enhance the sweetness. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Morning, lines 54-70 In this stage of the lesson, the teacher is continuing to explain the roles of the narrator/storyteller and the audience. Waving her hand at the class (line 57 above), she indicates that the audience in this setting is the learners themselves, those who listen to the story: ‘wale wanaosikiliza hadithi’ (line 58). By contrast, her role in the upcoming story will be as the narrator, and pointing to what she has put on the board, she describes that she will be saying the first phrase, ‘Hadithi, hadithi’ (line 59) (Story, story), and then the learners will need to respond with the next phrase, ‘Hadithi njoo. Uwongo njoo. Utamu kolea!’ (line 60). The teacher really is quite enthusiastic about all of this, which I do my best to indicate through exclamation marks in the transcript. In fact, the teacher becomes amused by her own telling of the answer phrase (line 60) to the call of Hadithi, hadithi that she goes on to repeat ‘Kolea!’ in line 61 and emits a short laugh illustrating her own positivity and enthusiasm, before continuing with a second review of the narrator/storyteller’s and audience’s parts. After this second review, the teacher asks the learners if they can try (lines 62-63), and then launches into the call with enthusiasm (line 63). The learners do respond (line 64), showing 310 their understanding of their role within this new scheme, and the teacher jumps in with them, initially behind the learners in a delayed entry into the response. Next, the teacher and learners align in the final two segments of the response phrase (lines 65-68), with the teacher raising her voice in exclamation over the learners’ voices. This performance meets the teacher’s approval, as shown in her ‘Ndiyo’ (line 69) (Yes), but the teacher wants to hear it all over again. She calls out once again ‘Hadithi, hadithi!’ (line 69), this time outstretching her hand to the class to encourage their involvement. Differently than before, the learners are now more enthusiastic, seeming more confident as a collective in their role as audience members, and they readily respond to the call, unified in voice, with the correct phrase all on their own (line 70). This second performance appears to satisfy the teacher because the learners produce the appropriate response without her assistance, allowing her to go directly into a comprehension check of each of the key words in the routine, beginning wth ‘Utamu’ (line 71 below) (Sweetness). The introduction of the formulaic routine in lines 52-60 (above), through the specific request for student participation in line 60, and the eventual production of an unscaffolded, choral response to the teacher’s call in lines 67-68—all of this talk can be interpreted as a socializing interaction accomplished through guided repetition after Moore (2004, 2006), and narrative socialization after Ochs and Capps (2001), as an early stage of socialization into narrative. Similar repetition, directed by an expert storyteller for immediate revoicing by the novice child is specifically documented by Moore (2006) as a growing feature of storytelling culture among the Fulbe of Maroua, Cameroon. During her time in Maroua, Moore (2006) noticed a shift in the apprenticeship of new, young storytellers away from ‘informal nighttime gathering[s] of women and children’ (p. 176) to a practice that patterned after modeling and imitation routines privileged in Qur’anic and public schooling. These changes in storytelling 311 socialization placed the novice in the position of needing to faithfully reproduce the expert’s discrete story excerpts in order to advance the storyline. Given these interaction patterns, it is Moore’s (2006) contention that ‘expert tellers are explicitly teaching folktales to children’ (p. 178). In her words, guided repetition is a: …social practice for teaching and learning new skills that involve (i) modeling by an expert, (ii) imitation of that model by a novice, followed by (iii) rehearsal and (iv) performance by the novice. In each of these four phases, the expert supervises the novice and may assist, evaluate, and correct her efforts. The goal is that the novice masters the new skill (Moore, 2006, p. 176). Later on in the Dar es Salaam lesson, as the structure of the Swahili-language story becomes more familiar to learners, their teacher enacts the story in its entirety as a script, and uses additional guided repetition to socialize learners into an understanding of the story as genre and performance. Excerpt 4: 71 T: ((points to board)) Utamu? [.] What is the meaning of ‘utamu’? Sweetness? [.] What is the meaning of ‘sweetness’? 72 73 Ss: Sweetness. T: Auh! ‘Uwongo’? Auh! ‘Lie’? 74 75 Ss: Lie(s). T: ‘Hadithi’? ‘Story’? 312 76 77 Ss: Story. T: ‘Njoo njoo’? ‘Come come’? 78 Ss: Co:m[e? 79 T: [Come come! 80 S: ‘Kolea’? ‘Enhance’? 81 T: ((raises voice)) ‘Kolea’? U::h kama, h::::m ‘Enhance’? U::h like, h::::m 82 S: ((faint)) ‘Uwongo’. ‘Lie’. 83 T: Let me say, kwa hiyo, I’m going to use an example for us to get therefore, 84 the correct translation. For example, when you take uh, sugar, 85 and then ((mimes stirring motion with right hand)) you take, or 86 maybe you put it in your tea, or porridge, and then you take 87 that, porridge or tea, then there’s sweetness. What do you say 88 in English? I learn English from ((outstretches hand to class)) 89 you. ((brings hand back into body)) You learn Kiswahili from Swahili 90 me. [3.0 ((mimes a stirring motion))] Ya:h? 313 91 G: Koru// 92 T: //Koroga:? Stir? 93 G: Ndiyo. Yes. 94 T: Ukikoroga then what is the oth—the other part? If you stir 95 G: ((inaudible)) 12 96 T: Ya:h, that is it. Mmhmm. Sasa, nitasema, ‘Hadithi, hadithi’? Now, I will say, ‘Story, story’? Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Morning, lines 71-96 As the above excerpt shows, by the time this teacher came to substitute for their previous instructor, this classroom community was already accustomed to responding to comprehension checks on specific vocabulary with English translations. This also seemed to be something this teacher was accepting of, because she responded positively to these supplied translations, as in line 73, the third turn in an IRE sequence initiated by the teacher concerning the meaning of ‘utamu’ (line 71) (sweetness). These sequences continue, resulting in the translation of uwongo !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 12 From the teacher’s explanation, which unfortunately is not completely audible in the recording, I gather that the meaning of Utamu kolea is to enhance sweetness, because the teacher refers to it as the result of stirring sugar into tea or porridge. This is also what is indicated in one of the more recent Swahili-Swahili dictionaries I found in Dar es Salaam at the time: ‘kuwa na ladha ya kutosha ya kitu kwa mfano chumvi’ (having enough flavor of something for example salt). Enhance is also the interpretation that Brower (2010) follows. 314 to lie (line 73-74), hadithi to story (lines 75-76), and njoo njoo to come come (lines 77-79), until a different type of sequence is initiated by a learner in line 80 concerning kolea. The teacher takes this learner’s question as a request that she explain the meaning of kolea, and this she switches to English for, first hesitating in Swahili (line 81) possibly because she is not sure the learners will understand a Swahili explanation, or potentially because she can only explain the concept best in English. Either way, she uses the example of adding sugar to ‘your tea, or porridge’ (line 86), as she mimes the motion of stirring sugar into a cup or bowl. The result of this adding of sugar is that ‘there’s sweetness’ (line 87). Then the teacher positions herself as other than a first-language speaker of English as she asks the learners, ‘What do you say in English?’ (lines 87-88). Continuing on, the teacher essentially describes her own role relative to that of the learners, as she sees it: ‘I learn English from you. You learn Kiswahili from me’ (lines 88-90). Within this view, the dual uses of Swahili and English are acceptable within the classroom community because it is part of their exchange as a collective of experts and novices, with the teacher as the clear expert in Swahili, as potentially punctuated by her use of the Swahili word ‘Kiswahili’ (line 89) to refer to the Swahili language in her English statement (notice that the teacher does not refer to English as Kiingereza, its Swahili referent). In response to the teacher’s miming of the motion of stirring (line 90), Gladys (G) makes an attempt to pronounce the corresponding Swahili verb stem Koroga, her attempt clarified by the teacher in line 92 and its clarification confirmed as correct by Gladys in line 93. The teacher then wants to know what ‘the other part’ (line 94) is to the scenario she described earlier about adding sugar to tea of porridge. This is likely in reference to some permutation of enhance, which is probably what Gladys responds with in line 95 (though inaudible), which elicits the 315 teacher’s affirmative answer in line 96. These vocabulary meanings now resolved through the discussion of their English translations, the teacher gets back to the original task, that of telling the story she has brought with her to class that day. Once again she invokes the call of Hadithi, hadithi (line 96), but it is executed with a rising intonation that seems to confuse some learners, because the response is delayed and quiet (line 97 below). Excerpt 5: 96 T: Ya:h, that is it. Mmhmm. Sasa, nitasema, ‘Hadithi, hadithi’? Now, I will say, ‘Story, 97 Ss: [.] Hadithi. [.] ((quiet)) Njoo. ((laughing)) Story. 98 Come. T: ((short laugh)) ((points to class)) Hadithi, hadithi?! Story, 99 Ss: Hadithi njoo [.] May the story come. 100 T: U[wongo njoo. May the lie come. 101 Ss: [Uwongo njoo. May the lie come. 102 T: [Utamu kolea. Enhance the sweetness. 103 Ss: [Utamu kolea. Enhance the sweetness. 316 story?! story’? 104 T: Ndiyo! ‘Hapo zamani’ ((lowers voice)) sasa. [.] ((telling story)) Yes! ‘A long time ago’ now. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Morning, lines 96-104 The not-so-smooth, disjointed delivery of the response phrase in line 97 (above) results in laughter from the learners and their teacher, functioning as a kind of response cry that shows that they recognize the incompetence of their botched attempt. But the teacher is resolved that the learners get it right, and so she initiates an IRE sequence with the call in line 98, rendering her positive evaluation in line 104, after the class successfully executes its role in the call and response, which is fast becoming a recognized routine in the classroom. Encouraging her audience as before, the teacher joins in the response phrase, her voice overlapping with those of the students (lines 100-103), but only in the final two segments of the response, so as to potentially listen for whether the learners immediately respond with Hadithi njoo (line 99), as they should. After aligning with learners in Utamu kolea (lines 102-103), the teacher is now satisfied with the performance of the call and response, noting her approval with ‘Ndiyo!’ (line 104) (Yes!), which is atypical of actual storytelling activity (the storyteller would normally continue directly into their story, as shown in excerpts below), and this indicates that this is a storytelling lesson, a teaching activity, as opposed to a storytelling episode. Nevertheless satisfied with the learner response, the teacher launches into her story about a man named ‘Bwana Kulakula’ (line 106) (Mister Eateat). The teacher furthers the storyline using a canonically vague time reference akin to Once upon a time or A long time ago, ‘Hapo zamani’ (line 102 below). Later on, this phrase, though 317 not explicitly described as part of the Swahili-language story script is interpreted as such by learners, and appears in the exposition of each of their own stories as presented in the afternoon class. As the story goes on, we learn that Bwana Kulakula is the name of a person who ‘alipenda kula sana’ (line 108 below) (he really liked to eat). Excerpt 6: 105 T: ‘Hapo zama:ni, palikuwa: na Bwa:na: mmoja. [1.0] Aliyeitwa: Bwana ‘Once upon a time, there was one Mister. 106 Kulakula. ((turns to board)) Bwana Kulakula, ((writes on board)) Eateat. 107 Mister Eateat, huyu ni [.] Bwa:na: Kula: [.] kula. ((resumes story)) Ah, Bwana This [person] is [.] Mister Eateat. 108 Who was named Mister Ah, that huyo:, kama jina lake lilivyo::, [1.5] alipenda kula sana. [aforementioned] Mister, as his name went, [1.5] he really liked to eat. 109 S: ((short laugh)) O:h. 118 T: ((writes on board)) Bwa:na Sikujua. [2.5] ((resumes story)) Rafiki Mister Ididn’tknow. 119 yake, Bwana Sikujua:, aliandaa vyaku:la. Na vinywaji vingi sa:na. Ili: His friend, Mister Ididn’tknow, prepared foods. And many beverages. In order to 120 kufurahisha [.] rafiki ya:ke. Aliandaa wali, [.] uga:li, n:di::zi:, make his friend [.] happy. He prepared cooked rice, [.] thickly cooked cornmeal, bananas, 318 121 m:atu::nda:, jui:si:, so:da:, cha:i:, mazi:wa:, na karanga. Bwana fruits, 122 juice, soda, tea, milk, and peanuts. Mister Kulakula alikula vyaku:la na vinywaji vyo:te. [.] Hatimaye, alianza Eateat 123 ate all of [the] foods and beverages. Finally, he started kutapi:ka. to throw up/vomit. 124 125 Ss: ((laughs)) T: Alitapika: sa:na. Sa:na. Sana. [.] Rafiki yake, aliamua: kumpeleka He threw up a lot. A lot. A lot. 126 His friend, decided to take him hospitali, haraka! Hadithi yangu imeishia:, hapo:.’ Hadithi mbaya au [to the] hospital, quickly/fast! My story has ended, there.’ [A] bad story or 127 nzuri? ((la[ughs)) [a] good [one]? 128 Ss: [((laughs)) Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Morning, lines 105-128 While the teacher presents the story of Bwana Kulakula, learners are able to read along using word-processed, printed versions the teacher has copied for them. As it turns out, Bwana Kulakula is portrayed as a food-lover and an excessive overeater whose escapades land him in the hospital. The inciting event (cf. Ochs & Capps, 1996) takes place in his eating and drinking of everything his friend, Mister Idon’t know has prepared for him, including ‘wali, ugali, ndizi, matunda, juisi, soda, chai, maziwa, na karanga’ (lines 118-119 above) (cooked rice, thickly cooked cornmeal, bananas, fruits, juice, soda, tea, milk, and peanuts). This becomes identified as 319 the inciting event through the subsequent mention of how Bwana Kulakula began to vomit quite a bit (lines 123, 125), which leads to his friend deciding to take his to the hospital. This is essentially all that we learn about Bwana Kulakula, as the story comes to an end with ‘Hadithi yangu imeishia hapo’ (My story has ended there) (line 124). Throughout, the teacher structures the temporality of the story in the use of the past tense marker -li- , situated first in the placement of Hapo zamani palikuwa na (line 105) at the beginning of the story. These features, along with the use of key verbs (kula, -penda, kutapika, -amua, -peleka), become the linguistic repertoire of the story. In fact, the greatest hint as to the content of the story comes in the naming of its main character through a repeat of the verb kula, as Kulakula. In Swahili, the immediate repetition of a verb indicates a repeat action, as in rukaruka, which denotes a repeated jumping, or zungukazunguka, the act of circling repeatedly or roaming around aimlessly. This is perhaps a clue that the teacher is looking for the learners to recognize early on in the story when she first mentions the main character’s name and makes the decision to write it on the chalkboard, slowing down her delivery of the name by segmenting it into its constituent verbs ‘Kula: [.] kula’ (line 107). However, it seems that there is little vocal recognition among the learners of the foreshadowing potential of the character’s name, and so the teacher resumes telling the story afterwards (line 107). As luck would have it, though, built into the story is an explication of the main character’s name (line 108), and this helps to explain the reason for the name Kulakula, as a learner can next be heard producing a short laugh, and the sound ‘O:h’ (line 109). The next response from learners is in line 124 after Bwana Kulakula’s blunder is fully exposed. The learners’ concerted laughter illustrates their comprehension of the story, in their role as storylisteners. After the story is told, the teacher asks the learners whether it was a good story or a bad 320 one (line 127), laughing on her own, later joined by learners (line 128). Though learners never really pass judgment on the story in terms of whether it is good or bad, it is safe to say that the story was enjoyed, particularly by those who responded in laughter during its telling. Then, the Swahili-language story is presented again by the teacher, which accomplishes a further solidification of the story of Bwana Kulakula as a script with three core components: (1) opening call and response formulaic routine (Hadithi, hadithi), (2) opening, past time reference to anchor the storyline (Hapo zamani), (3) story content with clear moral message, or methali (proverb) to be gleaned. Moreover, it becomes even clearer that the teacher’s storytelling performance is to be interpreted as a script, because after her second delivery of the story she then turns to students to carry on performance of the story, and accurately deliver every element verbatim, word for word. Directed Re-telling of Story Script as Part of Guided Repetition Presented next is the full illustration of the Swahili-language story by the teacher, in which the requisite introductory routine becomes absorbed into telling of the story of Bwana Kulakula, such that the several subsequent, verbatim re-tellings of the story by both the teacher and students are only accomplished through completion of the Hadithi, hadithi routine. Before a learner is to next perform the Swahili-language story script, the teacher explains in part what her objective is in having the students read aloud the story of Bwana Kulakula. As she says, ‘lengo langu ni tukitaka kujua namna ya kuzungumza Kiswahili’ (lines 175-176 below) (My goal is wanting us to know how to speak Swahili). Perhaps on a point of clarification or emphasis, the teacher continues on English, referring to the importance of pronunciation to the successful delivery of the story: ‘Intonation. How do you pronounce the words in Kiswahili. That’s what I 321 need’ (lines 176-177). The teacher then goes even further, explaining that speaking good ‘Kiswahili’ means surrendering the English accent and having a voice indistinguishable from that of a native speaker: ‘Kwa sababu unazoea kuzungumza Kiswahili kwa sauti, nzuri, na unabadilisha, kabisa, lafudhi ya Kiingereza, na Kiswahili tofauti’ (Because you get used to speaking Swahili with a good voice, and you completely change the English-language accent, separate from Swahili) (lines 185-187). In this, she positions all of the learners as primary speakers of English, who would bring an English-language accent to their delivery of Swahili, 13 which was not actually the case. This positioning provides evidence to support my observations on how learners in Dar es Salaam were often generally regarded as primary speakers of English, regardless of their various nationalities (see chapter 2 for more discussion). Even as the teacher states her main goal is to improve learners’ speaking ability, the class has already been engaged in two forms of socialization activity: (1) socialization through storytelling, or the learning of Swahili language with the story as a vehicle, and (2) socialization into storytelling, or the learning of how to deliver a Swahili-language story. In fact, at the beginning of the class she earlier stated how she thought that by the end of the day all of the learners would know how to prepare a Swahili-language story: ‘Nafikiri baada ya darasa hili, [3.0] tutajua: namna ya [.] kuandaa hadithi za Kiswahili’ (lines 35-36 above). !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 13 In truth, there were a variety of accents in the room, that imparted upon the Swahili produced anywhere from a sharp staccato accent to a closer approximation of the teacher’s own pronounciation. The great variety in accents presented a bit of challenge to me when I later transcribed these interactions. 322 Excerpt 7: 175 T: Haya. Sasa. Nina—((staccato)) ni-na-ta-ka ((normal rhythm)) Okay. Now. I— 176 I want wanafunzi ((holds up two fingers)) wawi:li:: (?). Mmoja ajaribu students 177 two kutusomea hadithi hii:. Lakini, lengo langu ni: [.] tukitaka kujua to read to us this story. But, my goal 178 is [wanting] us to know namna ya kuzungumza [.] Kiswahili. Intonation. [1.5] How do you how to 179 One should try speak Swahili. pronounce the words in Kiswahili. That’s what I need. Ndiyo, Yes, 180 napenda, [.] mmoja? Mmoja? I like [it], 181 182 one [student]? One? Ss: Mmhmm. T: Mmoja anaweza kujaribu. Uki—ukizoea [.] kusoma hadithi na One [student] can try. As you—as you get used to [.] reading stories and 183 kuzisimulia kwa mwenzako, ((louder)) ha! ((normal voice)) Mtu narrating them for your colleagues, 184 ha! Another person mwingine (a)naweza kushindwa kutofautisha ((standing in front of [will] be unable to distinguish 323 185 Bahati)) kati ya Bahati na Mwalimu Elda. between Bahati and Mwalimu Elda. 186 S: Mm. 187 T: ((nods)) Ndiyo. Kwa sababu unazoea kuzungumza Kiswahili kwa Yes. 188 Because you get used to speaking Swahili with sauti, nzuri, na unabadilisha, kabisa, lafudhi ya Kiingereza, na a good, voice, and you completely, change, the English-language accent, 189 Kiswahili tofauti. Kwa hiyo, ukizoea kusoma, hadithi, na kusimulia separate from Swahili. Therefore, if you get used to reading, stories, and narrating 190 pia, nzuri sana. Nani anaweza kujaribu? [.] Bahati? Safi. Bomba. as well, [it is] very good. Who can try? Bahati? Nice. Super. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Morning, lines 175-190 Though Bahati (Bah) does not actually volunteer, she becomes the first in a series of six students to re-tell the complete Swahili-language story of Bwana Kulakula by beginning her performance with the requisite call of Hadithi, hadithi. Each performance is followed by teacher approval of ‘Safi’ (Nice) or ‘Nzuri’ (Good) and applause, and the final telling of the story is tagged by a collective clap for all of the learner-storytellers. 324 Excerpt 8: 192 T: ((gives Bahati a copy of written story)) ((to Bahati)) Unaweza Can you 193 kusimama? Unataka? stand? Do you want [to]? 194 Bah: ((stands)) [((moves to stand at front of room, facing class)) 195 T: [Ili wanaweza kuona e::h, siyo hivi. ((holds page up, So they can 196 see e::h, not like this. blocking face)) ((brings page down)) Hivi. [5.5] ((teacher Like this. 197 moves to stand with class)) Karibu:! Welcome! 198 Bah: ((faint)) ((to teacher)) Nita:soma . I will read 199 T: Eh he:h. Ndiyo. Hadithi, hadithi.// Eh he:h. Yes. Story, story. 201 Bah: //Hadi:thi, hadi:thi. Story, story. 325 202 Ss: Hadithi njoo. Uwongo njoo. Utamu kolea. May the story come. May the lie come. Enhance the sweetness. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Morning, lines 192-202 It is clear that the teacher’s intent is for the students to closely follow the story as she first authorized with her own inaugural delivery, because her enjoiner to an ambivalent student directs him to ‘just read it!’ (line 276 below) so that he might also participate in the classroom activity. What becomes clear through the teacher’s words is that the opportunity to re-tell the story of Bwana Kulakula is as much about staying faithful to the content as it is about performing the oral text. This is why learners are instructed to read the full text of the story aloud, in addition to enacting the necessary call and response. The next storyteller after her, Bahati, as well as subsequent others, should actively seek to portray the Swahili voice. The concept of ‘sauti nzuri’ 14 (line 186 above) (good voice ) in the teacher’s perspective then takes on the literal ideal of ‘Kiswahili intonation’ (lines 176-177 above), and the more metaphoric disavowing of the English-language voice that every learner of Swahili in the class is assumed to intrinsically possess. Ideologically, Swahili voice and English voice occupy very separate domains for this classroom community, though in actual practice (as will be seen to a greater degree in the next sections of this chapter), they can come into contact within the same utterance as discrete phrases (though rarely within the same phrase in this classroom speech community). !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 14 Sometimes translated as ‘voice’, the word ‘sauti’ may also be translated as ‘sound’, or in the phrase ‘kwa sauti’ as ‘louder’. Working on the translation first, before I began on my interpretation, I felt it useful to consider the use of ‘sauti’ by the teacher in lines 185-187, as ‘voice’, because she qualifies it with ‘nzuri’. One might prefer ‘good sound’, but in the English, ‘good voice’ reads more clearly, particularly in the context of a comment on first-language accents. 326 Excerpt 9: 272 T: Uh, labda:: mm mm. Hapa: nafikiri, labda, ongoja. Ongoja nione Uh, perhaps mm mm. Here I think, perhaps, wait. Wait/allow me to see 273 bahati yangu. Kama ni nzuri, au ni mbaya. ((comes around room to my luck. 274 If [it] be good, or bad. student)) Labda: (!) unaweza kusoma: kidogo? Au sana. Perhaps you can read a little bit? Or a lot. 275 S: Eh. ((shakes head slightly)) 276 T: Jaribu. Can you try to read. ((gives pages to student)) Try. 277 S: Okay. Just read it?// 278 T: //Labda —just read it! Perhaps 279 S: Okay. 280 T: Karibu. Welcome. 281 S: Yeah. ((moves to front of room)) Hadithi, hadithi. Story, story. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Morning, lines 272-281 327 After the storytelling script is re-told a full six times, the teacher takes this as an opportunity to address learners’ comprehension of the story’s contents. Having completed the guided repetition phase of the lesson, the focus is now on the post-story activity of culling the story’s moral and didactic message, as Eastman (1984) demonstrates is the preferred activity to follow the telling of the Swahili-language story. Essentially, the teacher calls upon students to recount the plot details and comment on their implications, ‘Hii hadithi inahusu nini?’ (This story is about what? What is this story about?) (line 346-347) and again in lines 397-398, ‘Hadithi inahusu nini?’. This suggests to learners the opportunity to dabble outside of the script to use a more flexible range of vocabulary in communicating the key details of the allegory, even as the teacher does make some interventions. Ethnographic Vignette #2: Putting the Story Into Their Own Words In the talk segment that follows, the teacher seeks out a male learner, Felix, to discuss the story’s content because most of the class participation has been by the female learners, who are also in the majority. Felix begins by working his way through a plot summary (lines 399-419 below), which serves as a test of his comprehension of the story and receives smiles (line 402) and nods (lines 404, 414) from the teacher in the way of approval. In these signals of approval, as well as error corrections, the teacher performs her expert role within the classroom through her capacity to evaluate learners’ uses of Standard Swahili as grammatically correct or not. Still, the teacher is quick to challenge his use of word order, responding to his statement with a question (line 406) that asserts her role as expert speaker. Felix is able to reproduce the correct statement in concert with her example, ‘Rafiki yake mmoja’ (his one friend) (line 407), and continue on in his summarization, perhaps somewhat more oriented toward self-correction, for 328 he immediately self-corrects his use of an adjective ( -ingi, many) to better align grammatically and morphophonologically with the noun referent ‘chakula’ (line 412) (food). Excerpt 10: 399 T: Halafu msichana mmoja: anajiandaa sasa. [3.0] Hadithi: inahusu Then one girl [should be] preparing herself now. [The] story is about 400 nini? what? 401 F: U:h, hii inahusu: [.] inahusu: mtu mmoja. Ana:—anaitwa uh Bwana U:h, this is about it’s about one person. He is—he is called uh Mister 402 Kulakula. Na anapenda kula sana. Na mtu:—anakula kila kitu. Eateat. And he likes to eat a lot. And someone—he eats every thing. 403 ((short laugh)) 404 T: Mm. ((smiles)) 405 F: Na [.] kula kila wakati u:h, wakati wote anapenda kula. And to eat every time u:h, all the time he likes to eat. 406 T: ((nods)) Mm. 407 F: Na anaamua ku:tembelea rafiki mmoja yake.// And he decides to visit 408 T: //Yake? R[afiki yak-e mmo-ja? His? 409 friend one his. F: His one friend? [Rafiki yake Rafiki yake mmoja ku: eh, kula. U::[h His friend His one friend 329 to eh, to eat. U::h 410 Ss: [((short laughs)) 411 T: [((short laughs)) 412 F: Rafiki yake anaandaa—anaandaa e:h, e:h, chakula nyingi—chakula His friend prepares—prepares 413 e:h, e:h, lots of food—lots of kingi. food. 414 T: ((nods)) Ndiyo. Ndiyo. Yes. 415 Yes. F: Na:// And 416 T: //Safi. Nice. 417 F: Na mwishowe, uh baada ya kula, ata—atapika. Ataanza kupika. And finally, uh after eating, he will—he throw up. He will start to cook. 418 T: Alianza? He started? 419 F: Alianza kupika. He started to cook. 420 T: Inapika. Kupika?// It is cooking. To cook? 421 F: //Alianza kutapika—alianza kutapika. He started to throw up—he started to throw up. 330 422 T: O::h sawa! ((claps)) [((short laugh)) O::h okay! 423 Ss: [((short laugh)) Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Morning, lines 399-423 Having only heard plot summaries from previously responding students, the teacher seems as though she might be content with his statement thus far; she offers positives in agreement, ‘Ndiyo. Ndiyo’ (line 414 above), ‘Safi’ (line 416), and ‘Oh, sawa’ (line 422), followed by applause. The teacher also asserts her authority and succeeds in scaffolding Felix’s participation by inserting herself into his re-telling before it is complete for the purposes of error correction (lines 408, 418, 420), though these interruptions may be considered acceptable because throughout his re-telling Felix remains seated (not standing at the front of the room as an official storyteller) and is participating as a non-expert student. These recasts have the effect of calling Felix’s attention to the ungrammaticality of his statements, and there is evidence of uptake (lines 409, 419, 421). During the class period, no storytellers were interrupted, or received error correction and commentary before their turn was completed. But what later makes this student’s response so valuable to the teacher is that he pushes beyond a recapitulation of the story of Bwana Kulakula to offer his own judgment of its didactic message (lines 424-428 below). Even before Felix can complete his statement, the teacher responds both kinetically and vocally, jumping up as she exclaims, ‘Woo!’ (line 427). This response from the teacher demonstrates the great value she finds in the post-story activity of exploring the core instructive meaning of hadithi. Ergo, her post-story probing has ultimately encouraged a learner to articulate through grammatically accurate, Standard Swahili, an 331 appropriate cultural post-story behavior. Felix himself, perhaps purposefully, makes use of the verb ‘-fundisha’ (line 424) (teach) in his synthesis: ‘Na eh, hadithi hii, inatufundisha kwamba eh, kama mnapenda kitu zaidi au sana, ni mbaya, na ni—ni nzuri ku kupenda eh, kitu kiasi siyo sana’ (lines 424-428). In essence: This story teaches us that if you like something most or very much, it is bad, and it is good to like something in a moderate amount. Excerpt 11: 424 F: Na e:h, hadithi hii, inatufundisha kwamba e:h, kama mnapenda kitu And e:h, this story, [it] teaches us that 425 e:h, if you like something zaidi au sana, ni mbaya, na:, ni—ni nzuri ku: ku:penda e:h, kitu most or very much, [it] is bad, and [it] is—is good to to like e:h something 426 kiasi// [in an] amount 427 T: //Woo! ((jumps up, one hand in air)) 428 F: siyo sana. [that] isn’t very much. 429 T: ((laughs)) Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Morning, lines 424-429 In this additional statement, Felix goes beyond the presumed boundary of the re-telling activity, which was previously marked as closed or concluded by the teacher’s applause (line 422 above). Here, Felix succeeds in claiming a higher degree of expertise in analyzing the story than was earlier assigned to him by the teacher and other learners; this next venture is deemed successful by the teacher’s enthusiastic response (line 427). 332 Not long afterward, the story’s message is distilled more succinctly by Aisha (Ai) at the teacher’s request, resulting in a rather simple adage: ‘Kula chakula cha kiasi’ (line 484 below), essentially: Eat food in moderation. This demonstrates how the story’s message (as previously worded by Felix) is echoed by another learner. Excerpt 12: 481 T: Asante:. Na ninafikiri: [2.5] kuna maoni? [.] Kuhusu hadithi? [3.0] Thank you. And I think are there opinions? [.] About [the] story? 482 Maoni yo yote? Labda Aisha unataka kusema cho chote. Kuhusu Any opinions? Perhaps Aisha you want to say something. About 483 hadithi. [.] Karibu. [6.0] Ndiyo. [the] story. [.] Welcome. Yes. 484 Ai: ((quiet)) U::h nafikiri u::h, nafikiri kula chakula cha kiasi. U::h I think u::h, I think eating food of [a] [small] amount. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Morning, lines 481-484 Towards the end of the morning class, the teacher sees some students start to exit on their way to their next classes, and she draws their attention through the use of English (lines 495496). These English words are immediately paraphrased in Swahili, ‘ninaweza kutoa tangazo’ (I am able to give an announcement) (line 497 below), which leads into instructions on writing short stories of three or four lines to present in the afternoon class. The teacher illustrates her expectations by offering a straightforward example of a first person, narrative-type sentence: ‘Nilienda Mwenge, nilienda niliona kitu fulani’ (I went to Mwenge, I went [and] I saw [a] certain 333 something) (line 499 below). Asked by a learner if their stories are meant to be prepared for class later that day, the teacher affirms her previous reference to ‘leo’ (today) (line 502), and reiterates, using English in part, that she is looking for a short story of ‘three lines. Four lines’ and ‘fupi’ (lines 502-503) (short). It can be noted here that the teacher is deviating from her own story example to ask the learners to create short, first person narratives. She then closes the class period by way of initiating the very call and response routine she has taught the learners that day. ‘Hadithi, hadithi,’ she issues (line 504), eliciting a unison response from learners, ‘Hadithi njoo, uwongo njoo, utamu kolea! (line 505). There is, in fact, no hesitation on the part of learners to respond to the teacher’s call, signifying a strong display of their newly acquired communicative competence in this particular storytelling practice. By the end of the morning class, the word hadithi has taken on a new meaning for everyone present. Before this day there was always the idea that someone uttering hadithi was talking about a story. But now the listening learner is able to, at onset of the word, think also of the possibility that a story may next be orally performed, or that a obtaining an expected response may be the speaker’s objective. The learners now understand hadithi to refer to more that story as a vocabulary item, but as an opening to a storytelling sequence. In this way, learners may be seen to accept the participatory requirements of their new roles as audience members during classroom storytelling. They have entered a socialization paradigm that has guided them beyond a literal meaning of hadithi, to absorb its social meaning. It could be that in the teacher’s move to conclude the class period with the Hadithi, hadithi routine she is signaling to students that they are now armed with storytelling knowledge, and she is able to leave them to their devices—she ‘wish[es] [them] all the best’ (line 506) in the creation of their own stories. 334 Excerpt 21: 495 T: ((sigh)) Hapana—kidogo Ndiyo, kwa sababu I have some No—small 496 Yes, because announcements about the next class. Please Sasa, Now, 497 ninaweza kutoa tangazo: mmoja, kwamba saa nane, darasa la saa I am able to give one announcement, that at two p.m., [for] the two 498 nane, unaweza kuandika:: mistari: mitatu:, minne, labda kuhusu: p.m. class, you can write three lines, 499 four, perhaps concerning hadithi ndogo. ‘Nilienda Mwenge, nilienda niliona kitu fulani.’ Halafu [a] little story. ‘I went [to] Mwenge, I went [and] I saw [a] certain something. Then 500 ukifika hapa kila mmoja atakuwa na hadithi yake. Fupi. Fupi sana. as you reach here [class] each person will have his story. Short. Very short. 501 S: Kwa leo? For today? 502 T: Kwa leo saa nane. Kidogo. Mistari o:h mostly of three lines. Four For today at two p.m. [Just] a little [one]. Lines o:h 503 lines. Fupi. Ndiyo ndiyo. ((clap)) Tunaweza kumaliza darasa kwa Short. Yes yes. 504 We can finish class [here] sababu wenzetu wana darasa lingine. Ndiyo? Hadithi, hadithi:. because our colleagues have another class. Yes? Story, story. 335 505 Ss: Hadithi njoo, uwongo njoo, utamu kolea! May the story come, may the lie come, enhance the sweetness! 506 507 T: I wish you all the best. Ss: Asa::nte. Na wewe pia. ((Vacating seats, exiting classroom)) Thank you. And [to] you too. 508 T: Haya. Okay. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Morning, lines 495-508 Background: Telling the Story in Tanzania Outside of the language classroom, the use of the story opener ‘Hadithi, hadithi’ is documented in other avenues of East African life. Orphaned children, now living in street communities in the Kilimanjaro region of Tanzania, can be heard to call ‘Hadithi, hadithi’ when initiating the telling of a story to one another (Nalkur, 2009, p. 1025). In Kenya, too, these words are used to the same purpose at the start of ‘Fireside Tales’ (Agan, 2006). In Msoga, a small coastal community in the Bagamoyo District of Tanzania, a young girl began her story by calling to her audience, ‘Hadithi, hadithi! Hadithi njoo!’ (Vuorela, 2009, p. 271). And back in the small island community of Chole Mjini, stories often begin with solicitations by children. As Brower (2001) recalls: I was soon found by a giggling and screaming band of village children who took me by the hand and lead [sic] me to storytellers yelling ‘Hadithi njoo! Uongo [sic] njoo! Utamu kolea!’ or simply shrieking ‘hadithi, hadithi, hadithi, hadithi.’ (p. 18) 336 Stories are part of a community’s history and literature, and chronicle the collection of lessons and social values the storyteller (as community representative) deems important (Agan, 2006; Vuorela, 2009). They are hadithi za uwongo, or stories of lies as Brower came to understand them. These stories are full of truth and communicate volumes through fabled heroes and tricksters, personified animals, and vague mentions of times in faraway past. While in Chole, Brower (2001) was told by a local kindergarten teacher the importance of such stories: Stories teach many things. They teach children why not to eat sugar on the way home from the store. They teach why not to throw garbage in the ocean. They teach why not to sit in the sun for a long period of time. They teach why not to hurt people. They teach why not to cut down big trees like mango trees and baobabs. They teach good manners. They teach about life. They teach everything, stories teach everything. (p. 22) Thus we have an example of socialization through story. Owing to Brower’s detailed accounts (2010, 2001) and those of others (e.g., Eastman, 1984; Senkoro, 2006; Vuorela, 2009) Swahililanguage stories may be interpreted as both narrative-historical and didactic events of oral literature or fasihi simulizi that come across as interactive acts of knowledge transmission. The story can involve methali (proverbs), vitendawili (riddles), and sometimes nyimbo (songs) and other linguistic innovations (e.g., Finnegan, 1970). The storyteller and audience must respond to each other in order to accomplish the telling of the story. According to Senkoro (2006) the storyteller or narrator and the audience have a necessarily symbiotic relationship, the end result of which brings out the best in the performance: Hadhira, sawa na mtambaji, ni muhimu sana katika uelezwaji na upokelewaji wa fasihi simulizi. Hadhira ni kichocheo kinachoimarisha uelezwaji na utambwaji wa fasihi hii. Huongezea ari ya ubunifu wa mtambaji, na wakati mwingine huweza hata kumsahihisha 337 au kumsaili mtambaji. Mara kwa mara hadhira pia huwa sehemu ya utambaji kwa kushiriki katika sehemu mbalimbali, kwa mfano, penye kiitikio, mkarara na matumizi ya nyimbo, kutegua vitendawili, kumalizia methali, na hata kupiga makofi. The audience, as well as the narrator, is very important in the delivery and receiving of oral literature. The audience is the impetus which strengthens the delivery and narration of this literature. [The audience] often adds to the narrator’s creative enthusiasm, and at other times it can even correct or question the narrator. Sometimes the audience also becomes a part of the narration through participation in various components, for example, in the chorus, refrain and use of songs, [in the] decoding of riddles, [in the] completion [of] proverbs, and even [by] clapping. (translation my own) Senkoro (2006) also discusses how Swahili-language stories have many ways of being begun, though each way involves a call and response routine. The most popular of these routines begins with a call of Hadithi, hadithi by the storyteller, drawing the response Hadithi njoo from the audience (p. 5), after which the storyteller can launch into the story with the opening line Hapo 15 zamani za kale , the meaning of which is akin to: Once upon a time. Not surprisingly, the expanded version of the opening call and response that Senkoro (2006) describes is identical to what Brower (2001) recounts having heard children say in Chole !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 15 The words hadithi and hapo are so tied to storytelling routines in the Swahili language that corresponding dictionary entries make note of this. The entry in the Swahili-English dictionary (2001) by Taasisi ya Uchunguzi wa Kiswahili (Institute of Swahili Research or TUKI) at the University of Dar es Salaam offers the following entry for ‘hadithi’ (p. 95) [sic]: hadithi: nm story, tale, narrative; parable; fiction: ~ ya mapenzi story of romance. (ms) ~ ~! opening words of a story teller; ~ njoo reply to such opening words. The TUKI dictionary entry for ‘hapo’ reads (p. 99) [sic]: hapo: kl 1 there, just there. 2 used to emphasize the beginning of certain events esp. in story-telling: ~ kale once upon a time. 338 Mjini; the audience responds to a call of ‘Hadithi, hadithi’ with ‘Hadithi njoo, uwongo njoo, utamu kolea!’ This expanded response phrase signals the readiness of the audience to accept and actively listen to the forthcoming story, and can be understood as: May the story come, may the 16 lie come, enhance the sweetness! The storyteller is then authorized to advance the storyline by stating an unspecific time frame, Hapo zamani za kale, followed by Alikuwako/Walikuwako, which furthers the story by introducing characters—there was/were someone/persons. The Swahili-language story ‘fomula’ (formula), as Senkoro (2006, pp. 5-6) states it, is later completed when the storyteller/narrator says ‘Na hadithi yangu imeishia hapo’ (And my story has ended there). In describing his own experiences as a child listening to and participating in the telling of stories, Senkoro (2006) draws a connection between the performance of Swahili oral literature and that of Africa at large, noting that there are certain rules to the presentation of such stories: Kwa vile majaribio mengi yaliyofanyika katika fasihi andishi ya Kiswahili yanaelekea kuwa yamechota kutoka katika fasihi simulizi ya Kiswahili/Kiafrika, makala inaanza kwa kuzipitia kanuni hizo za fasihi simulizi—kanuni mahsusi zinazoifanya fasihi simulizi ijitegemee. Kanuni hizi huzoeleka tangu wanajamii wengi wakiwa watoto wadogo wanapotambiwa na wakubwa wao hadithi, visa, na ngano; wanapotegewa vitendawili pamoja na mafumbo, na kadhalika. (p. 1) Those many forays made in written Swahili literature lean in such a way as though they were drawn from Swahili/African oral literature, [and this] article begins by exploring !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 16 I have also explored alternative translations of hadithi njoo, uwongo njoo, whereing njoo is interpreted as a command to the listener: you come. However, this interpretation doesn’t seem to work as well Brower’s (2001). 339 those tenets of oral literature—special principles which make oral literature selfdependent. These principles have typically directed [oral literature] since [the days when] many community members were small children being told stories, narratives, and fables by their older siblings; when they were being ensnared by riddles along with parables, and so on and so forth. (translation my own) The tenets of oral literature, as Senkoro (2006) describes them, do appear to vary across communities and across borderlines of African countries. One such example is to be had in the performance of storytelling among the Gbaya, who live across the Central African Republic as well as Congo-Brazzaville and Cameroon. According to Noss (1977), the storyteller for the Gbaya is at the same time a teacher and an entertainer, using literary devices such as ideophones and song to creatively enhance the delivery of the story. In this case, the audience is itself indispensable, just as in the performance of the Swahili-language story. In the end it is the audience who judges the storyteller’s success based on previously agreed upon, favored norms of expressive language use and didactic content. In the Swahili-language story, an important way of achieving a successful performance is to instruct the audience through the inclusion of a methali (proverb), or an easily coined adage. This practice has carried over into modern 17 written Swahili literature, as Eastman (1979) describes with the analysis of five contemporary plays, lending support to Senkoro’s (2006) later observations, also made in two plays, and the widely circulated novel Rosa Mistika written by Euphrase Kezilahabi in 1975. Eastman’s (1984) later reflections on the social organization of Swahili oral literatures go even further in distinguishing the Swahili-language story as an !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 17 Eastman (1979) makes a careful distinction between early, medieval written Swahili literatures which include poetry and prose in Arabic script, as opposed to the growing, contemporary emergence of written literatures in Roman script, to which is applied here the descriptor ‘modern’. 340 expressive, highly didactic speech event among Swahili-speaking Muslims in coastal Kenya. 18 Through a Hymesian lense, the successful delivery of hekaya, the story , is a key component of Swahili communicative competence and its purpose may overlap with proverb use, itself a potentially separate speech act. In Eastman’s (1984) words: ‘As hekaya, they are done primarily for entertainment yet carry a message in their definite didactic and hortatory moral’ (p. 331). Accordingly, the norms of interaction with and interpretation of the hekaya are for the listening audience to ‘figure out the moral of the story’ (p. 329), which presupposes that the competent speaker must deliver a story that in some way imparts a lesson. This might involve an allusion to a well-known proverb as observed by Eastman (1979, p. 202) in the written drama, Afadhali Mchawi (Better a Witch), where the sick child asks his mother about when he will be able to return to school, and mother replies, ‘Kuna haraka gani hapo?’ (What hurry is there?), a reference to Haraka haraka haina baraka (Haste makes waste). The incorporation of methali into a story makes it clear that the intended purpose of the story is to teach, and to socialize through language and about language, for the proverb becomes a specific sequence of words later replicated and incorporated into the repertoire of the mature, competent speaker of Swahili. Methali (proverbs) are also a robust feature of Swahili-language use in urban communities such as Dar es Salaam, and smaller ones like Chole, where women often wrap themselves in 6-foot by 3-foot cloths printed with Swahili proverbs and sayings (in numerous designs and color combinations) as protective aprons while cooking at home, casual over-skirts when running errands, and while out in public, as head/hair/upper body coverings or ‘hijabs’. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 18 The story, as hekaya in the Kenyan Islamic context differs from the use of hadithi as story in the same religious community, which is more closely related to stories of the Prophet Muhammad or hadith, as they are treated in Islam. In other contexts, such as the Dar es Salaam university where learners in this study come together, it is not uncommon to witness the use of hadithi as (secular) story. 341 Such a printed cloth or ‘kanga’ may be worn with the intention of communicating a specific message to a peer, like the kanga I found in Mji Mkongwe (Stone Town), the main settlement of Zanzibar, which reads, concentrically decorated in polkadots and peanut shells: Hata ukinichukia la kweli nitakwambia (Even if you hate me I will tell you the truth). Or another I purchased somewhere inland in mainland Tanzania, near Arusha, decorated in a plaid of red daisies advises that two people living together is bliss: Kuishi wawili ni raha. 19 Too, learning to orally perform the Swahili-language story (or read it in print) involves the recognition of the consecutive tense frequently employed by storytellers, or by persons recounting past events. This tense (or aspect) marker, -ka-, fits into the Swahili verb in the typical position of the tense marker, somewhere near the middle of the verb construction, and indicates that its inhabited verb takes the tense of its verbal antecedent. This maintains the timeframe within a longer description (and extended use of multiple verbs) as concurrent without being redundant. Unsurprisingly, the -ka- tense is so used in the relating of consecutive events 20 that it is sometimes presented to learners of the language as the ‘storytelling tense’. It is a !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 19 To this day, it has been my experience that successfully interfacing with Swahili literatures or Swahili-speakers means having a certain familiarity with a range of methali, so as to be able to recognize these in print or in conversation. For L2 and L+ speakers, supplying appropriate methali in conversation remains a sure way to demonstrate your prowess to a speaker unaware of your ability in the language. In short, the (in)formal apprenticeship of new speakers of Swahili has, in my experience, almost always included the transmission of proverbs. 20 In her discussion of the widespread trickster stories of Abunuwas/Abunuwasi, Eastman (1984, p. 325) discloses her choice to translate the use of -ka- as and. Drawing upon my own experience with the language, I instead translate -ka- as and then in combination with a continued use of past tense, because I find it more congruent with the idea that something would happen in a story, and then something else would happen. Following my reasoning, the following excerpt from the printed story Jinsi chui alivyopata madoadoa (How the leopard got its spots), is amenable to the use of permutations of ‘and then’ in the English, as well as continued past tense: ‘Nilikuwa nikila uyoga,’ alijibu kobe. ‘Tena akatokea fisi. Nikamwuliza kama angependa uyoga kidogo. Akanijibu hataki, anataka nyama. Nikamwambia sina nyama […].’ (Kola, 2003, p. 19) 342 narrative device that goes hand in hand with the successful oral performance of the Swahililanguage story (Eastman, 1984), which can sometimes end without the happiest of endings. The story of Babuzimwi as translated by Brower (2010) (after Steere, 1870) stands as a good example of the sometimes deliberate clarity with which some characters meet their fate in the Swahili-language story, characters such as the unfortunate Bwana Kulakula. This is not so uncommon in Tanzania, to have stories that end on a serious note (cf. ‘The grasshopper and the fiddle’ in Scheub, 1990). Still, it is another reminder that storytelling as entertainment has its limits, as it is primarily a vehicle for social instruction. As one contemporary version of Babuzimwi goes (Brower, 2010, p. 46): There is a village called Jibondo. Over the horizon one day there appears an ogre named Babuzimwi, whose huge shadow blots out the sun. Babuzimwi rapes the women and then swallows the village whole—men, women, children, huts—and retreats to his lair, on the far edge of the earth. The villages live in anarchic misery in the belly of the beast. Dead bodies pile up everywhere; it is crowded, diseased, and lawless—the situation has turned some of the people into rapists and murderers. Though their numbers dwindle, life goes !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ‘I wanted to eat the mushroom,’ replied the turtle. ‘Then the hyena came out. I then asked him if he would like a little mushroom. And then he answered me that he didn’t want [it], he wants meat. I then told him I have no meat […].’ To further illustrate the use of -ka-, I draw attention to the following excerpt of an orally performed story as documented by Vuorela (2009, p. 277): Hapo zamani za kale kulikuwa na wazee wawili. Kwa bahati nzuri walizaa mtoto wao moja. Kwa bahati pia walikuwa na mtumwa, yaani pale zamani walipokuwa wanachukua watumwa, wanawafuga. Kwa bahati mbaya, baba ya mtu akafa, na baada ya kufa yule mtoto akabaki na mama yao. Once upon a time there were two elders. By a stroke of good luck they bore one child of their own. By that [same] luck, they had a slave, that is to say, in the olden days when they were taking enslaved people, [and] confining them. By a stroke of bad luck, the father then died, and after his dying, the child remained with [his] mother. In this example, it also possible to take note of the canonical use of ‘hapo zamani za kale’ to launch the story within an unspecific time of the past, followed by ‘kulikuwa’ (there was/were) to introduce the story’s main characters. 343 on in the ogre’s bloody innards—children are born and grow into adolescence. Years later, a war hero named Makame shows up in Jibondo, hoping to propose to Mize, an old flame. Finding a hole where the village once was, Makame follows the baobab-sized footprints to the end of the earth, where he battles Babuzimwi for three days and eventually slices open the ogre’s belly and frees the village. The villagers mob Makame—they rip off his head and kneel, weeping, at the side of the ogre’s corpse— some of the elders protest the hero’s murder, and then they themselves are murdered—the children miss life inside the belly of the beast—the only life they’ve ever known. Reluctantly, they make their way back to Jibondo and begin rebuilding. Instead of traditional mud huts, they fashion them in the shapes of the ogre’s internal organs. They build a cow dung dome over their village to blot out the sun; they slather their streets in blood and live happily ever after. As only one of many such hadithi za uwongo, or stories of lies, the story of the fabled villagers and their experience ‘in the belly of the beast’ illustrates the power of the Swahili-language story as a cautionary tale, and a repository of adjusting cultural practice. Some 150 years earlier, before the institutionalization of German and British colonialism, the story ended with the hero marrying his bride-to-be, as told to Bishop Steere, himself an early missionary to East Africa and foreshadower of the ensuing period of change and influence in the region. Now the story imparts a realist attitude toward the lived experience of an occupied and confined people, conditioned by their incarceration to not only accept to their life in the veritable bowels of society, but to seek it. It is this responsive nature of Swahiliphone oral and written literature that contributes to its recognized value as a cumulative historical and sociocultural artifact. In fact, numerous scholars—both within and outside of Swahili-speaking countries—have openly credited the 344 centuries-old canon of Swahiliphone literature, including epic poetry, religious texts, modern novels, short stories, and poetry, as a foundation for primary research on early medieval, modern, contemporary history, literature and culture in the region (e.g., Mazrui, 2007; Mazrui & Shariff, 1994; Oliver & Mathew, 1968 [1963]; Pike, 1986; Saavedra Casco, 2009; Topan, 2004; Vuorela, 2009). Contemporary Swahiliphone literature can therefore be viewed as part of a historical continuum of written and spoken thought and performance extending at least as far back as the th 14 century. Throughout this tremendous body of discourse are works that respond to each other and serve as a mirror of previous and contemporary sociohistorical movements. The work of Shaaban Robert, a recognized literary giant in Swahiliphone literature, serves as a good example of this; in a newly independent Tanzania actively appropriating Swahili as a national language, Robert’s prose ‘contributed to setting in motion a new trend in the Tanzanian imagination toward a transethnic Swahili literature’ (Mazrui, 2007, p. 29). Ranger (2008 [1983]; 1993) discusses the long-term consequences of colonial intervention in Africa, and particularly in British-held Nigeria, Northern Rhodesia, Tanganyika, and Uganda, wherein the introduction of longstanding (though, in some cases, newly innovated), codified English practices of royal pageantry and militarism facilitated the transition from flexible, local custom into the consolidation of colonial power and the development of an African underclass trained to celebrate the majesty of the British Empire, and its language, religion, and style of dress. The created traditions of cricket-playing, of decorated assembly in the presence of the British royal court, and the practice of Anglican religion through missionary education reproduced existing British power structures on the African continent, subjugating African languages in a manner that relates to the present-day situation of Indigenous African languages. In a way, British colonial discourse set the stage for the later development of 345 Swahiliphone nationalist discourse and the codification of new linguistic identities in the wake of a new Tanzania (e.g., Zeleza, 2006). In this spirit, Bakhtin’s (1988) sense of the historical consequence of literature is helpful, because it looks to discourse in all of its spoken and written forms as an (un)intentional response to the processes that were involved in its creation. To be sure, Bakhtin (1988, 1981), writing from a position among his Soviet Union contemporaries, refers to the European novel rather 21 explicitly throughout his theoretical treatises, a fact not unmissed in this analysis. Still, his exploration of discourse as a ‘living utterance’ is useful in the examination here of voice, authorship, and ownership of oral literature in the language classroom. According to Bakhtin (1988): The living utterance, having taken meaning and shape at a particular historical moment in a socially specific environment, cannot fail to brush up against thousands of living dialogic threads, woven by socio-ideological consciousness around the given object of an utterance; it cannot fail to become an active participant in social dialogue. After all, the utterance arises out of this dialogue as a continuation of it and as a rejoinder to it—it does not approach the object from the sideline. (p. 276-277) Within this perspective on language use, an author or speaker cannot own their own words, because they were not theirs to begin with, given the inherent respondent nature of organized word use. Every word, every utterance, and each literary work takes on meaning only in relation !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 21 Bakhtin (1988, 1981) makes numerous explicit references to European literary works. In his Discourse of the Novel, he remarks thus: The national literary language of a people with a highly developed art of prose, especially if it is novelistic prose with a rich and tension-filled verbal-ideological history, is in fact an organized microcosm that reflects the macrocosm not only of national heteroglossia, but of European heteroglossia as well. (1988, p. 295) 346 to the way its discrete words were used before in light of the present intent of the author or speaker in response to their environment. This is the ‘dialogic orientation of discourse’ that Bakhtin (1988 p. 279) describes, wherein any and all discourse finds itself in inescapable dialogue with all other discourse. When considering Swahiliphone discourse as ‘living utterance’ I am compelled to consider the creation and appropriation of Swahili language by authors throughout the more formative periods of Swahili’s linguistic history. Topan (2006) provides an insightful sketch of the radiating growth and movement of Swahiliphone literature from its core among Swahili Muslim peoples to inland East Africa—then a periphery of Swahili language use, and now the site of its greater reality as lingua franca. Even the transition from Arabic script to Latin script, through the strongly ideological German and British missionary-colonial projects of the 19th century, marks a period in which the Swahiliphone narrative began to respond to colonial intervention in its first detectable iteration as novel. 22 th Moving into the 21 century, Swahiliphone literature has undoubtedly developed greatly, and some varied influences, a few from outside the East African ontology, are now visible. Nevertheless, for Topan (2006, p. 110), the ‘Swahili tradition of setting and uncovering fumbo (“hidden messages”) endures’. Taking account of the situational sociohistory of literary works such as these and others, Topan (2006) is able to answer the question of ‘why a Swahili writer write[s]’ (p. 118). Through stories which ‘narrate ordinary events in the day-to-day lives’ of urban and island Swahili-speakers, the ‘Swahili writer’ draws upon the ‘pain of seeing the !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 22 On this point, see, see for example, Uhuru wa Watumwa [The Freedom of Slaves] by James Mbotela, 1934 (as discussed by Topan, 2006). The translation of other works into Swahili during the 20th century also encouraged a Swahiliphone sensibility, and attention to the needs of a developing Tanzania, as in the amplified translation of Sembene Ousmane’s (1966) novella Le mandate or The Money-Order into the Swahili play Hawala ya Fedha (1980) by Amandina Lihamba (Mwangi, 2009). 347 African in the situation he is in today years after independence, the pain of not daring to act and do what one ought to do, the pain of participating in the experiment of developing Swahili and seeing to it that it is accorded the status due to it, the pain of imagining the Africa of tomorrow’ (p. 118). The contemporary ‘Swahili writer’ then possesses a legitimate perspective from within the Swahiliphone world of a Swahili reality that remains one of ‘domination, first Arab and later European’ (p. 118). To this end, Topan (2006), himself a Zanzibari Tanzanian, uses his analysis of Swahiliphone literature to construct the ‘Swahili writer’ exclusively around the Tanzanian experience. 23 While this serves his purpose of exploring the depth of literary response to colonialism, independence, and the ongoing era of globalization (Tanzania has a particular nationalist language history), it emphasizes the authenticity of the Tanzanian author to the exclusion of a supranational author-creator. By this, I refer to speakers of Swahili, represented in part by learners included in this study, who contribute to the visibility and propagation of Swahiliphone literature from their positions as teachers, students, literary critics, scholars, authors, and enthusiasts of Swahili language on the periphery of the Swahili-language speech community in places like Accra, Beijing, and Naples. Indeed, these peripheral speakers of Swahili, many of whom have spent !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 23 The ‘strong Swahili linguistic nationalism of Tanzania’ is therefore an inescapable dimension of Swahili discourse, and Mazrui (2007, pp. 4-6) pointedly builds upon the earlier discussion of Mazrui and Shariff (1994) to address the modern ‘hybridity’ of ‘Swahili literature’, noticeably stopping short of using the term Swahiliphone literature. Within this ‘hybridity’, Mazrui envisions a literary space in which: …literature of the twentieth century and beyond is heterogeneous ethnically, nationally, and religiously as well as ideologically. It is sometimes transethnic and transnational, bound by the instrumental force of the Swahili language that, though differentiated, tends to revolve around an evolving standard norm. Swahili as well as non-Swahili, Tanzanian as well as non-Tanzanian, Muslim as well as non-Muslim authors have been participating in and contributing to the creation of this new hybrid literature…(pp. 5-6) Though Mazrui goes on to briefly discuss the teaching of ‘Swahili literature’ in Kenyan universities and secondary schools, he misses the opportunity to touch upon the participation of ‘non-Tanzanian’, non-eastern African speakers in the cause of Swahiliphone literature. 348 time in Tanzania, find themselves sometimes being rejected or dismissed by Tanzanian speakers as wazungu or White/non-African foreigners. This is the experience Brower (2010) describes he endured as part of his extended stay in Kojoani, an isolated island off the Tanzanian mainland. Having previously been regarded as a marriage-worthy member of his Zanzibari host family, Brower recounts how his outward adaptation to Swahili sensibilities had him feeling more Tanzanian than American when he learned of the events of September 11, 2001 in the U.S., from local Zanzibari youth. The beard he had grown, along with the limited Arabic he used to pepper his Swahili, had assisted him greatly in his quest to faithfully document oral stories. But it was his experience in Kojoani, the cholera he shared with villagers, and the calls of mzungu, that reminded him of his place as an outsider. As he relates: Many of the villagers openly hated me. […] They didn’t buy my Muslim act, either— thought I was a spy—and barred me from the Mosque. The real motto of Tanzania isn’t hakuna matata [no worries] as many novices might assert, but karibu which means ‘welcome.’ I heard that word fifty times a day in all of the hundreds of other villages I visited. I never once heard the word karibu in Kojoani. The village children started calling me Bush, and followed me around screaming it. I was threatened by a butcher with a knife who said in a dialect he didn’t think I’d understand that he should chop me up for the sins of my porcine brothers. (Brower, 2010, pp. 66-67) Brower continues, closing his narrative thus, in subtle reference to the beast Babuzimwi and the first English missionary in Tanzania, Bishop Steere, who earlier documented the story some nearly two centuries before: I tried to win them over again and again, pulled out all of the most impressive and linguistically acrobatic proverbs and poems I had. I told long stories I’d collected in rival 349 villages and literally begged several of them to allow me to record them. I tried to convince them that I was doing it for them, that their grandchildren would be better off for having the precious cultural traditions of their village preserved. They laughed it all off, saw right through me, made me feel like the fraud that I was, like the missionary I’d become, like a swallowing monster from another world. (Brower, 2010, p. 67) It is worthwhile to consider Brower’s experience as one of the many had by peripheral speakers of Swahili. Though he had, in his opinion, sufficiently and appropriately immersed himself in coastal Swahili social practice, he could not gain legitimacy, and therefore entrée into the Kojoani community. His persistent status as an outsider in the remote island community echoes some experiences felt by learner-speakers in the urban setting of Dar es Salaam. These learnerspeakers describe how they navigate the liminal reality of knowing enough Swahili to want to engage Tanzanian speakers, amid sometimes being rebuffed as wazungu or meeting up against a decided unwillingness in others to speak the language with them. In this way, all of these narratives point to the periphery as a sort of frontier in the Swahiliphone world, a space where new speakers are trying to assert their voices and claim authenticity. Again, Bakhtin’s (1988, p. 273) perspective is useful here, in its characterization of the ‘dialogic nature of language’ as a ‘struggle among socio-linguistic [sic] points of view’. This is the ‘double-voicedness’ that is intrinsic to ‘language as a social phenomenon that is becoming in history, socially stratified and weathered in this process of becoming’ (p. 326). In an effort to construct (new) meaning, the use of language entails the navigation of a multiplicity of voices as individually reflective of the myriad positionings, worldviews, and intentions of author-speakers. At this frontier in language use by inauthentic author-speakers, we find ourselves in observation of language as an active site of struggle, with the Dar es Salaam language classroom as a teacher- 350 directed point of convergence between Tanzanian and non-Tanzanian, Swahili and non-Swahili. In the classroom-as-community of practice, Standard Swahili becomes the linguistic framework through which a new ‘tradition’ in oral storytelling is orchestrated by the teacher in reference to the globalized, multilingual reality of the classroom. As before, this development in oral literature is disseminated from expert to novice, elder to youth. Ethnographic Vignette #3: Bahati’s Story, Mtoto Sitaki In this section, I examine the reception of the first of three stories told by learners in the afternoon class. A look into the organization and content of this first learner story helps us toward an understanding of what the essential characteristics of the Swahili-language story are, and how the successful telling of the story is regarded by the teacher as an essential practice in the classroom context. The learner performing the story is being socialized into a particular storytelling behavior and scripted linguistic activity. At the same time, the story itself uses language to promote the storytelling script in the class, while delivering a didactic message to the audience. While this message may not be at the core of the socialization practice in class, it nevertheless must be present to successfully complete the story (as the excerpts below indicate). When the learner-storyteller is ushered to the front of the class to deliver their tale in this afternoon class, instantly formalizing the activity, the socializing process started in the previous class is reactivated. It continues through the teacher’s response to the story, in which the teacher reveals the particular cultural priorities that guide her sensibility of what constitutes a good Swahili-language story and what doesn’t. The morning class now in the past, the afternoon starts some three hours later with the teacher recapitulating her parting instructions on preparing a story to the class (lines 26-30 351 below): ‘Tulisema, tunaweza kuandika mistari mitatu, minne labda ya hadithi ya Kiswahili, na hata zaidi kama unaweza kuandika hata kitabu pia, unapenda’ (We said, we can write three lines, four perhaps of [a] Swahili-language story, and even as much as you can write even a book, [if] you like). However, her next words reveal that she remains a bit skeptical of the students’ ability. She asks whether anyone has attempted to write such a story, ‘Sasa nani amejaribu kufanya hivo?’ (lines 30-31), and calls upon Bahati, specifically. Upon Bahati’s affirmative reply, the teacher welcomes her with ‘Karibu’ (line 33) to the front of the classroom to tell her story. And before Bahati can make her way to the front, the teacher next uses the imperative ‘Kumbuka’ (remember) to remind students of the ‘utangulizi wa hadithi ya Kiswahili’ (lines 33-34), referencing the now familiar story opener Hadithi, hadithi. Excerpt 22: 26 T: ((short laugh)) [.] Uh huh? Tulisem[a, We said, 27 S: [Niko: niko darasa: I am in I am in class 28 T: tunaweza kuandika: mistari mitatu, minne ((clap)) labda: [2.5] ((rolls we can 29 write three lines, four perhaps head)) ya hadithi:, ya Kiswahili:, [.] na:: hata zaidi kama unaweza of [a] Swahili-language story, [.] and even as much as you can 30 kuandika hata kitabu pia, unapenda. [.] Sasa nani amejaribu write even a book, [if] you like. 352 Now who has attempted 31 kufanya hivo? [2.5] Bahati umejaribu? to do that? Bahati have you attempted [it]? 32 Bah: ((faint)) Mm. Mmhmm. 33 T: Karibu! Karibu tuambie umeandika nini. Kumbuka: utangulizi wa Welcome! [You are welcome to] tell us what you have written. Remember [the] introduction of 34 hadithi ya Kiswahili. [the] Swahili-language story. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 26-34 To the teacher’s satisfaction (line 36 below), as displayed in her positive exclamation, Bahati does not disappoint in executing the call of Hadithi, hadithi to begin the Swahili-language story (line 35), and this is a point of satisfaction for Bahati as well. She smiles at the onset of the class’ unison response: May the story come, may the lie come, enhance the sweetness (lines 3839). What next ensues is the core of the Swahili-language story as represented by Bahati, going beyond the codifed story-script of Bwana Kulakula. Excerpt 23: 35 Bah: [3.0] ((comes to front, to stand behind lectern)) Hadithi, hadithi. Story, 36 T: O:h! 37 Bah: ((smiles)) 353 story. 38 39 T: [Hadithi njoo, uwongo njoo, utamu kolea. Ss: [Hadithi njoo, uwongo njoo, utamu kolea. ((smiling)) May the story come, may the lie come, enhance the sweetness. 40 Bah: “Hapo zamani, palikuwa na mtoto mmoja. Aliitwa Mtoto Sitaki. A long time ago, there was one child. S/he was named Child Idon’twant. 41 Kama jina lake linavyoeleza, yeye hakutaka kusikiliza mamake As her/his name explains, s/he did not want to listen to her/his mother 42 kila siku na kila mwaka. Na siku zote mama alimwambia, ‘Kumbuka each day and each year. And [every] day [the] mother told her/him, ‘Remember 43 mtoto wangu, asiyefunzwa na mamaye atafunzwa na ulimwengu.’ my child, s/he who is not taught by her/his mother will be taught by [the] world.’” 44 Hadithi yangu ((opens hands, closes hands)) [. My story 45 F: [Sema tena? Say [it] again/Say what? 46 Ss: ((laughs)) 354 47 T: ((making way back to front)) Imeishia? [The story] it has finished? 48 Bah: Yah. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 35-48 This new story, while Bahati’s innovation, includes some noticeable similarities to the story exemplar. First, in line with the Swahili-language story script, the core events of the story are framed by ‘Hapo zamani’, a vague reference to the past, followed by ‘palikuwa na’ (there was/were) to introduce the central character, a child named Child Idon’twant, ‘Mtoto Sitaki’ (line 40). Importantly, Bahati has followed the teacher’s example of naming this character after his own principal attribute, thereby foreshadowing the story’s content and message, as was previously accomplished in the introduction of the doomed overeater, Bwana Kulakula (Mister Eateat). In the present story, the child is portrayed as disobedient, and, as her/his name suggests, s/he doesn’t want to ever listen to her/his mother: ‘Kama jina lake linavyoeleza, yeye hakutaka kusikiliza mamake kila siku na kila mwaka’ (lines 40-41) (As her/his name explained, s/he didn’t want to listen to her/his mother every day and every year). In her role as storyteller, Bahati is now in a position to instruct through story, and she succeeds in this by cleverly inserting a methali (proverb) into the storyline. We learn that the mother’s daily reply to the child is itself worded through a well-known proverb: ‘Kumbuka mtoto wangu, asiyefunzwa na mamaye atafunzwa na ulimwengu’ (lines 42-43). The mother says: Remember my child, he who is not taught by her/his mother will be taught by the world. We realize next that the story has reached its end when the storyteller refers to the story itself in an explicit manner; with a gesture of hands, she indicates ‘Hadithi yangu’ (My story) is now 355 complete (line 44). To the audience, the story appears to end somewhat abruptly, leaving one fellow learner, Felix, to immediately respond, ‘Sema tena?’ (Say [it] again? Say what?) (line 45), which draws laughter. To be fair, the story was performed in a low volume—Bahati’s normal speech—and with a rather rapid speed of delivery, so the words went by fairly quickly in my judgment. Also, the lack of collective applause from students after the story’s close may be a reasonable indication that the story, in the manner it was delivered, was not well understood by some. Still, the confusion of her peers notwithstanding, Bahati has completed the script of the Swahili-language story, from the story opener through to an introductory time reference (hapo zamani) and into a finishing line amounting to Hadithi yangu imeishia (My story has finished). This last part—this last word imeishia, if it was lacking from her previous statement, the teacher seems to fill it in for her, or at least the teacher is seeking confirmation that the story is now over (line 47 below). The second response to the story (the first being the student’s request for clarification or repetition, line 45) is the teacher’s declaration that ‘it was sweet!’ (line 49 below). But even as ‘sweet’ as the story may have the been, the teacher seems unsatisfied as she paces the front of the room, with hands held to her head. With a drawn out phrasing of the final syllable of ‘Sasa’, she emphasizes that the story is no more, ‘Sasa imekwisha!’ (Now it’s over!) (lines 49-50), adding that she doesn’t like that’s it over, ‘Mimi sipendi’ (I don’t like [it]) (line 54) because even though it was good, ‘nzuri’, ‘you expected something else somewhere’ (lines 5455). 356 Excerpt 24: 49 T: ((to Bahati)) Ah! It was sweet! Sasa:: ((pulls forearms apart)) Now 50 imekwisha! ((holds hands up to sides of head)) A::h! ((walks to it’s over! 51 52 [other side of room)) Ss: [((laughs)) 53 Bah: [((smiles, returns to seat)) 54 T: Mimi si:pe:ndi Bahati! [.] Ilikuwa nzuri sana—you expected I don’t like [it] Bahati! [.] It was very good 55 something else somewhere. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 49-55 Apparently it was the length of the story that kept the teacher wanting. It was over much too quickly for her taste. As she later says, following a recap of the story, ‘Hadithi ni nzuri. Lakini, labda, baadaye, unaweza ku kupanua hadithi yako, kama kubwa kidogo?’ (lines 73-74 below). Although the story is good, the teacher wishes for it to be lengthened ‘kama kubwa kidogo’ (line 75), like a little bit longer. This reaction is a bit surprising given the teacher’s emphasis on brevity in her instructions to the morning class (see above, lines 497-502, morning class), and constitutes a mixed reaction on the part of the teacher. Essentially, the story was good, but it wasn’t done completely right and there was something lacking. Perhaps this story made for a good start and the teacher wanted to hear more of it. This comes even though Bahati has 357 patterned her story very closely after the teacher’s own example, the story of Bwana Kulakula having itself been fairly short. Altogether, this indicates that Bahati’s attempt at telling a hadithi ya uwongo (story of lies) was not completely successful, and she is denied the applause from the classroom community that would fully validate her effort and legitimize her role as teller (perhaps in part because of the low volume of the story’s delivery, making it challenging for everyong to follow and appreciate it). For whatever reason, the teacher makes no response to the story’s content other than to summarize it for the benefit of the class (line 67-69 below), by scaffolding a re-telling of the proverb at the core of the story. The teacher’s request for a longer, improved story is all the commentary that we hear, because her next act is to seek another storyteller. ‘Mwingine?’(Another?), she asks (line 76). And with that, we are onto the next ‘story of lies’. Excerpt 25: 67 T: ((looking at Bahati)) Lakini mama yake alimwambi:a asiye [.] But her/his mother told her/him s/he who isn’t [.] 68 funzwa na mama, aliye:—asiyefunzwa na mama:ye:, ufunzwa [.] taught by [their] mother, s/he who was—s/he who isn’t taught by their mother, is taught 69 na (?) [.] na: (?) [.] [Ulimwengu. by (?) [.] by (?) [.] [The] world. 70 Ss: [Ulimwengu. [The] world. 358 71 T: [1.5] Asan[te! Thank you! 72 S: [((laughs)) 73 T: ((claps)) Hadithi ni nzuri. Lakini, labda, baada:ye:, unaweza ku: [The] story is good. But, perhaps, afterwards/later, you can to 74 ((pulls hands apart to shoulder width)) kupanua? Hadithi yako, widen/lengthen? Your story, 75 kama kubwa kidogo? Labda, ukurasa moja? One page? ((nods)) like [a] little [bit] bigger/longer? Perhaps, one page? One page? 76 Sawa. ((claps)) Ni nzuri sana. ((to class)) Mwingine? Okay. It’s very good. 77 G: ((raises hand)) 78 Another [person]? T: ((extends hand to Gladys)) Karibu. Welcome. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 67-78 Ethnographic Vignette #4: Gladys’ story, Paka na Pan(y)a In this section I review the organization, content and reception of the second story told in the afternoon class, determining that this second episode of storytelling is rendered a success by both the teacher and the students. The teacher is satisfied that the story is an entertaining and 359 socioculturally appropriate encapsulation of a moral message; she validates the learner’s identity as storyteller through her after-story comments. Because this story is so warmly received in the classroom, I show in my analysis why this story proves successful in terms of its stylistic delivery. Following the telling of the story, differently from what occurred after the previous story of Mtoto Sitaki, the teacher directs the class in the specific post-story activity of translating selecting vocabulary from the oral text. It is in this activity that I find evidence of an alignment between Mwalimu Magdeline, the teacher, and Gladys (G), in their demonstration of Englishlanguage competence. Having received an invitation in the form of ‘Karibu’ from the teacher (line 78 below) to stand at the front of the class to tell her story, Gladys makes her way through the fixed desk rowseating to face her classmates, the chalkboard at her back. She begins by invoking the call and response routine she and her classmates were taught earlier in guided repetition by their teacher. In doing so, she takes on the voice of the storyteller, the culturally knowledgeable expert, and invites, as did Bahati before her, the participation of her teacher and fellow learners in their role as listeners and audience members. Their unified response to her call of ‘Hadithi, hadithi’ (Story, story) (line 81 below) confirms her right to perform, and provides for a social-oral space in which more fluidity in the roles of expert and novice allow her to share knowledge. Her performance and successful adherence to the storytelling routine are again confirmed by the teacher’s excited expression of ‘Mmhmm!’ (line 87) following the opening sentence of her story. As in the previous stories by the teacher and Bahati, ‘Hapo zamani’ (A long time ago) as she puts it, or Hapo zamani za kale (Once upon a time, A long time ago) as may often be heard in other settings (line 86), is used to initiate the plot. With this opening line Gladys literally appropriates the voice of the Swahili storyteller, and foreshadows the content of ‘her’ story, a 360 soon-to-be revoiced tale of the familiar struggle between the hungry Cat and the ever-so-clever Mouse, an etiological trickster narrative (Scheub, 2012). Excerpt 26: 81 G: Hadithi, hadithi. Story, 82 83 story. T: [Hadithi njoo. Uwongo njoo. Utam(u) kolea! Ss: [Hadithi njoo. Uwongo njoo. Utamu kolea! May the story come. May the lie come. Enhance the sweetness! 84 G: [((smiles)) 85 T: Mmhm[m. 86 G: [“Hapo zamani, palikuwa na Paka na Pana. 24 “A long time ago, there was Cat and Mouse. 87 T: Mmhmm!// Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 81-87 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 24 The speaker’s utterance ‘pana’ and its likenesses elsewhere in the interaction, including ‘mpana’ and ‘panya’ are translated here as mouse, because in later discussion of the story the class consensus is that mouse, rather than rat (as might be typically substituted) is a suitable English-language stand-in. In fact, the word rat is never mentioned in English during these episodes of classroom talk. I originally attempted the use of rat in the gloss, but found it to be incongruous with the decision of the speakers to use ‘mouse’ in later commentary on the story during this same classroom event. 361 As the story goes, a long time ago Cat and Mouse were living together on an island (line 86 above, line 88 below). One day Cat decided s/he was tired of living on the island and told Mouse of this. Mouse agreed and they made plans to leave. The storyteller appears to put Cat and Mouse on equal footing while on the island, quoting them as having similarly declared their frustration with island life: ‘Nimechoka kuishi hapa’ (I am tired of living here) (lines 89-90 below). Some time later, when their boat was ready, they set it in the water, planned, and began their sea-faring journey. But after another day, things began to change, and Cat was beginning to feel hungry. No longer on equal footing, Mouse, likely sensing s/he was to be Cat’s next snack, suggested that s/he might not be a sufficient meal because s/he, too, was growing thin with hunger (lines 99-100). Instead, Mouse advises Cat to just eat parts of their boat. Excerpt 27: 88 G: //Palikuwa wakiishi kisiwani. Siku moja, Paka aliamua kufanya There they lived on an island. One day, Cat decided to take 89 safa:ri. Alimwambia Pana, ‘Mimi nimecho:ka [.] kuishi hapa. Nataka [a] trip. S/he told Mouse, ‘I am tired of 90 living here. I want kuenda nje [.] ya kisiwa hiki.’ Panya alimjibu, ‘Mimi pia. Nimechoka to go outside [.] of this island.’ Mouse replied to her/him, ‘Me too. I am tired 91 kuishi hapa. Twende .’ Wakati kuwa muhogo na kuitengeneza of living here. Let’s go When there was cassava and [the watercraft/boat was fixed] 362 92 mashua, wakaweka baharini, wakapanga, wakaanza safari yao. they put [the watercraft/boat] in the ocean, and then they planned, and then they began their journey. 93 Baada ya siku mbili, Paka alianza kulalami:ka sana. Kulalamika After two days, 94 Cat started to complain a lot. To complain kuwa anasikia njaa. that s/he [was] feeling hungry. 95 Ss: ((short laughs)) 96 G: ((laughs, smiles)) Paka alisema, ‘Ninaona njaa sana. Nataka ku:— Cat said, 97 ‘I feel so hungry. I want to nataka kuku:la. Kwa sababu, hakuna chakula cho chote hapa.’ I want to eat. Because, there is not any food here.’ 98 Ss: ((short laughs)) 99 G: Paka i ((short laugh)) imeanza kukonda. Paka alimjibu, ‘Mimi pia. Cat st started to thin. Mouse replied to her/him, ‘Me too. 100 Lakini wewe:, subiri kidogo. Sitakutosha kwa sababu, nimekonda But you, wait a little bit. I will not be enough for you because I have thinned. 101 lakini unaweza kula: mashua.’ Paka alianza kutafuna mashua You can eat the watercraft/boat.’ Cat started to chew on the watercraft/boat 363 102 wakati, Panya alisikia usingizi. ((short laugh)) Akatafuna, akatafuna while Mouse felt sleepy. S/he kept chewing, and then s/he kept chewing 103 hatimaye, wakaanza kuzam(a). finally, 104 they began to sink. T: ((laughs)) Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 88-104 Of course, Cat eats so much of the boat that they then begin to sink (line 103 above). But the true measure of Mouse’s cunning is what can be interpreted as her/his deceptive mode of sleeping, for s/he suddenly awakes once they begin to sink and jumps into the water to swim to shore and make a break for it (lines 105-106 below). However, her/his escape attempt is thwarted by the awkwardly swimming Cat who succeeds in capturing her/him on dry land thereafter (line 109). This is when the storyteller artfully illustrates Mouse’s next evasive maneuver, which results in her/his lasting subversion of Cat’s designs. That Cat has a simple mind may have already come across in the sinking of the boat, and now on the shore is where the listener is introduced to a more earnest portrayal of Cat’s stance toward Mouse: ‘Unanitosha’ (You will satisfy me) (line 110 below). Instead of giving up, even while in Cat’s grasp, Mouse calmly asks for leave of Cat, in order to wash her/himself off, and promptly dashes into a hole, never to be seen again. This life-saving accomplishment is the true mark of Mouse as trickster. As the storyteller puts it, ‘Panya alimkimbi:—ali [.] kimbilia: shimoni na hadi leo, Paka alimsubiria 364 Pana’ (Mouse ran to her/him—ran into [a] hole and until today, Cat [is] waited for [her/him] Mouse) (lines 114-115). There’s something so familiar about the storyteller’s use of ‘hadi leo’ (until today) to complete the saga of Cat and Mouse in a manner that imparts the relevance of the story to the listener, and serves to connect this story’s oral design to the Swahili literary canon. With the purpose of many stories being their usefulness in explaining how things/people/phenomena have come to be, the revoicing of ‘hadi leo’ ensures that this storyline fits into the Swahili imagination and demonstrates the speaker’s cultural competence. There is no doubt that the story’s ending is amusing for the teacher, who is familiar with this type of story, and expresses her enthusiasm with ‘Oh!’ and laughter at the close of the story (line 116 below). The conclusion of the story is also greeted by collective applause from learners, signifying their validation of her performance. Additionally, the learners’ laughter at various points throughout the telling of the story (along with the teacher’s laughter) illustrates their comprehension and appreciation for the details (lines 95, 98, 112). Still, one of the more powerful aspects of the storyteller’s message might be found in the underlying storyline of Mouse’s struggle, resistance, and eventual success at avoiding Cat’s designs on him. With a view toward the experiences of the storyteller and her peers as learnerspeakers, this story can be interpreted as a metaphor for the sometimes perilous activity of asserting one’s desired identity at the risk of rebuke or unacceptance by others, be they interlocutors or mute observers. This is the reported experience of some Dar es Salaam learners (as detailed in chapter 2) who attempt to use Swahili with local speakers, and are discouraged by responses in English or what they interpret as name-calling and cat-calling. 365 Excerpt 28: 104 T: ((laughs)) 105 G: ((looks at teacher, smiles)) Kwa ghaf:la, Pana ali—aliamka na: All of a sudden, Mouse awoke and 106 25 ali:rukia baharini. Akaogolea , akaogolea, wakati huo huo, Paka jumped into the ocean. Then s/he swam, and s/he swam, right then and there, Cat 107 alimfuata ili amle. Paka akaog—ogolea haraka sana. Lakini, Paka followed him so as to eat her/him. Cat then sw—swam really fast. But, Cat 108 hakujua namna: ya kuoge—kuogelea vizuri. Ufukweni, Paka akam didn’t know how to swi— 109 to swim well. On the shore, Cat then [.] Paka alim: [.] kamata Pana, na akam—akasema, ‘Sasa Cat s/he [.] captured [her/him] Mouse, and then—then s/he said to her/him, ‘Now 110 umenenepa. Unanitosha.’ Panya alimjibu, ‘Subiri kidogo, nina you have become fat. You will satisfy me.’ The Mouse replied to her/him, ‘Wait a little bit, I have !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 25 The speaker’s utterance appears to be approximating akaogelea (and then he swam), the applicative verb form of the verb kuoga (to bathe) though it is actualized as ‘akaogalea’. This occurrence of ‘akaogalea’ may reflect the speaker’s personal challenge in actualizing the consecutive vowels in Swahili word forms, for the speaker later corrects herself (line 108 above, afternoon class) to use the more recognizable ‘kuogelea’. The speaker similarly oscillates between two actualizations for mouse. For example, the more recognizable ‘panya’ (lines 90, 102, 110, 114) and ‘pana’ (lines 86, 89, 105, 109), a word that typically refers to width. 366 111 matope mwilini. Nataka kuoga. mud on [my] body. I want to bathe.’ 112 Ss: ((short laug[hs)) 113 G: [Nitarudi baadaye.’ Paka alisema, ‘Haya, hamna shida.’ I will return afterwards.’ Cat said, ‘Okay, no problem.’ 114 Panya alimkimbi:—ali [.] kimbilia: shimoni na hadi leo, Paka Mouse ran to her/him—ran [.] into [a] hole and until today, Cat 115 alimsubiria Pan(y)a.” [is] waited for [her/him] Mouse. 116 T: O[h! ((laughs)) 117 G: 118 Ss: ((claps)) [((smiles)) ((moves back to seat)) Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 104-118 As will next be observed in the examination of post-story activity following the Cat and Mouse saga, this particular Dar es Salaam classroom setting presents certain challenges for the learner-speaker in his or her move to be regarded as a competent Swahili speaker. In many ways, this classroom-based struggle is a reproduction of the daily friction many learners describe in their uses of Swahili in interaction with local, native speakers in university cafes, and off-campus in daladala public transit, at market, and elsewhere. Though greater use of Swahili by learner may be enabled in this second-language setting, as opposed to foreign language settings as far 367 away from Tanzania as Mexico, the challenges to successfully asserting a Swahili-language identity are according to learners, an irreducible component of their experience. Post-story Activity: Scripted double-voicedness Towards the end of the storyteller’s endeavor, the storyteller details that the eating of their watercraft is what eventually causes Cat and Mouse to sink into the water ‘hatimaye’ (line 103 above) (in the end). This event does not go unmissed by the teacher, who lets out a hearty laugh, a humorous reaction seemingly unmatched by any others present in the classroom, due to their quietness (although there is applause from learners as Gladys returns to her seat, line 118). It may be this silence and potentially delayed applause of the others that prompts the teacher to ask learners some minutes later, after the conclusion of the Cat and Mouse saga, whether they understood the story as told: ‘Aisha, umeelewa hadithi ya leo?’ (line 123 below) (Aisha, have you understood today’s story) she says, as she directs her inquiry to a particular learner. However, before the teacher decides to check for understanding, the learners hear the resolution of the story in how Mouse escapes certain death by misdirecting Cat’s hunger yet again. To show this full, interconnected sequence of interaction, the excerpt below includes the conclusion of Gladys’ story and the immediate responses in their entirety. In the storyteller’s words: Excerpt 29: 114 G: Panya alimkimbi:—ali [.] kimbilia: shimoni na hadi leo, Paka Mouse ran to her/him—ran [.] into [a] hole and until today, Cat 115 alimsubiria Pan(y)a.” [is] waited for [her/him] Mouse. 368 116 T: O[h! ((laughs)) 117 G: 118 Ss: ((claps)) 119 [((smiles)) ((moves back to seat)) T: Mm! Mm. Hadithi nzuri:: Great story 120 Hap: Na ndefu. And long. 121 T: Na ndefu sana! Lakini sijui ni wangapi wameelewa. Nina wasi wasi. And very long! But I don’t know how many understood. I am worried. 122 Hap: ((laughs)) 123 T: Ndiyo. Nina wasi wasi. Aisha, umeelewa hadithi ya leo? Yes. I am worried. Aisha, have you understood today’s story? Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 114-123 In the end, not only does Mouse escape being eaten by Cat, but he convinces his captor to let him free in the final sequence, at once amusing and lengthy to the teacher who picks up on another learner’s judgment in line 120, saying: ‘Hadithi nzuri na ndefu sana!’ (lines 119, 121 above) (Great story and very long!). Again, the teacher finds herself as the only one laughing (line 116), which may play a role in her choice to next express her ‘wasi wasi’ to everyone, her worry of having been the only one in the classroom who understood the highlights of the storyteller’s endeavor. The learners’ lack of response, or silence is interpreted as a show of 369 incompetence in performing the role of listener. The story was longer than expected, and possibly too long to have been comprehended by these novice story-listeners, as the response by Happiness may suggest (line 120). And how do students respond to this expression of doubt on the part of their teacher? I turn to Aisha’s response, and the responses of her classmates. Excerpt 30: 124 Ai: ((faint)) Samahani, Sorry, 125 T: [Hadithi ya mwanafunzi huyu, Gladys? The story of this student, Gladys? 126 Umeelewa vizuri? Have you understood [it] well? 127 Ai: ((shakes head laterally)) Hapana. No. 128 T: Hapana. [.] ((quiet)) Nafikiri. ((regular voice)) Wewe je? ((points to No. 129 130 I think. And you? Eloise)) E: Mmm:: Ki:::dogo. Mmm [A] little. 131 T: Kidogo? Labda? Umeelewa kidogo? O:: ya. Labda mm A little? Perhaps? You have understood a little bit? Or, of. Perhaps mm 370 132 133 Ss: T: [((points to Lulu)) Wewe je? Umeelewa? Hadithi? [And] you? Have you understood? [The] story? 134 L: ((faint)) ((shakes head)) Hapana. Um, mimi sielewi . No. 135 Um, I don’t understand T: Yote? All of it [the story]? 136 L: Mmhmm. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 124-136 Given Aisha’s reply to the teacher’s direct question, it would appear that Aisha understood little of what transpired between Cat and Mouse. From one student to the next, the teacher turns, continuing to assess whether students have been able to follow the story. The honesty of Aisha and others appears to inform the teacher’s next move to have a student voice a translation of the story in a language that she presupposes they will all understand. She begins by suggesting Kiingereza, English, but fails to get an all-group consensus on whether it is everyone’s alternative language of choice. Still, the teacher plows ahead, recruiting one of the community’s many L2 or L+ speakers of English to provide the impromptu translation. Bahati re-tells Gladys’ story. As it so happens, even as Bahati agrees to having understood Gladys’ story (line 138 below), she does not volunteer to translate the story of Cat and Mouse as might be gathered by her silence in response to the teacher’s call for a translator. 371 Instead, Bahati is called by name, and eventually acquiesces, but not before challenging the teacher’s request, and avoiding a direct refusal to translate Gladys’ story. Bahati asks to give the story summary in Swahili (line 143 below). Expressing her reluctance with English through a short laugh (line 145 below) amid the conjecture, ‘Kwa Kiingereza sijui’ (In English I don’t know). Rather than responding to Bahati’s hesitancy to use English by consenting to the use of Swahili, the teacher polls the class to see who understands English, as if proving the efficacy of her request. In this move, the teacher now turns to her known quantities in the class for feedback. Does Bahati know enough English? Does Aisha? Does anybody? Bahati gives no direct reply to the teacher’s second request (lines 167-168 above) and is simply seen to stand at her desk space and launch into her paraphrase of the story’s major events (line 172 below). Excerpt 31: 134 L: ((faint)) ((shakes head)) Hapana. Um, mimi sielewi . No. 135 Um, I don’t understand T: Yote? All of it [the story]? 136 L: Mmhmm. 137 T: O:::h. [.] A::h, labda Bahati, je? O:::h A::h, well Bahati, how about you? 138 Bah: N:diyo. Yes. 139 T: Umeelewa? [.] Labda unaweza ku:: kujaribu, kuiweka hadithi katika Have you understood? [.] Perhaps you can tr try to put [the] story in 372 140 lugha nyingine, kwa ufupi, i:li kuwasaidia wengine ((modulates another language, in short, so as to help 141 others pitch)) kuele:wa kidogo: ((normal voice)) kupata nini maana ya to understand a little [and] grasp what is the meaning of 142 hadithi? Kwanza? [the] story? First? 143 Bah: Kwa Kiswahili?// In Swahili? 144 T: //Labda kwa Kiingereza? Perhaps in English? 145 Bah: Kwa Kiingereza, ((short laugh)) sijui. In English, 146 I don’t know. T: Labda kwa—((raises voice)) wangapi wanajua Kiingereza:? [.] Perhaps in— how many know English? 147 E: [((raises hand)) 148 G: [((raises hand)) 149 T: Aisha mkono? Kiingereza? Aisha [your] hand? English? 150 Ss: Hawajui. Hawajui. Hawa[jui. They don’t know. They don’t know. They don’t know. 373 151 T: [Hawajui au wanaju-a, Kiingereza? They don’t know or they [do] know, English? 152 E: [((raises hand)) 153 G: [((raises hand)) 154 Hap: [((raises hand)) 155 I: [((raises hand)) 156 T: Kiingereza? Aisha, unajua Kiingereza kidogo? English? 157 Aisha, do you know a little English? Ai: ((nods slightly)) Kidogo. [A] little [bit]. 158 T: ((to Lulu)) Unajua Kiingereza [kidogo. Unajua? You know [a] little English. Don’t you [know]? 159 L: [((nods, holding up hand)) 160 T: Ndiyo. Unajua Kiingereza kidogo. Sana? Yes. You know [a] little English. A lot? 161 L: ((shakes head)) 162 T: ((to Lulu)) Sana? Kiingereza? A lot? English? 163 L: ((faint)) Kidogo. [A] little [bit]. 164 Ss: ((talking in the background)) 374 165 T: Eloise ? Ndiyo? Eloise Yes? 166 E: ((nods, holding hand up)) 167 T: Labda, Bahati kido:go, unaweza: yeah, kidogo, ili [.] nafikiri Perhaps, Bahati [just] a little bit, you can [just] a little bit, so that [.] I think 168 [kila mmoja anahitaji kuelewa. each person needs to understand. 169 170 Ss: [ T: ((raises voice)) Sawa? Karibu:! Okay? Go ahead! 171 G: ((to Eloise)) ‘Mashua’ is a boat. ‘Watercraft/boat’ Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 124-136 A show of hands reveals the Ghanaian contingent of five students feels confident in their English ability (lines 146-155), and the teacher then queries individual students Aisha (Ai) and Lulu (L), first-language speakers of Chinese, who profess to know ‘kidogo’ ([a] little) English (lines 156-163). Aisha and Lulu’s claims to know a little English may display some push back at their being positioned by other students as not competent in English (line 150). It is therefore established that not everyone in the classroom feels very comfortable with English, claiming instead to know a little, at the very least. This claim may not be surprising, given that speaking 375 English is a routine (and valued) practice in this community. This has the effect of making English a sort of shared, alternative language in the classroom speech community, and the teacher sees no choice but to again request that Bahati provide an English-language summary of the storyline (lines 167-168). She does this by invoking Bahati’s name for the second time (line 107 above) and signaling where Bahati’s conversational turn should begin by ending her own with an invitation to participate: ‘Karibu!’ (line 170 above). What follows is a full two-second silence as Bahati stands at her seat (line 172). Excerpt 33: 172 Bah: [2.0 ((stands at her seat))] It’s a story [about a cat a::nd mouse 173 S: [ 174 Bah: e::h and they we:re [.] they were friends, [.] and they decide to:: 175 176 [3.0] mm:: [3.0] take a triv eh// T: //Leave, trip, tra:vel.// 177 Bah: //Travel and they take a little [.] boat. And mm:: go:, and go: 178 179 for T: Mmhmm. 180 Bah: for a and to, but e::h after some time, some days e:h e::h 181 both of them, start to: [.] to have a:: to be hungry, and so:: [.] 182 e::h the[y e::h the 183 G: [The cat. 184 Bah: The cat e:h want to: eat something, he want to eat the: 185 186 [the mouse. G: [The mouse. ((short laugh)) 376 187 Bah: So, the mou—the mouse say that he’s u::h he wants to:: [.] 188 consume (?) , to be eaten, and so, he better share with the cat 189 that he can sample the boat. Then he: can u:h, can sample the 190 boat to be mo:re, more fat. 191 T: Mm. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 172-191 In this talk segment, Bahati is pushed into giving voice to a language other than Swahili that is not comfortably her own, in a manner that results from her being perceived as the one learner who fully understood the story in its original Swahili, as well as a natural speaker of English, the language of Wazungu, White/non-African foreigners in Tanzania. This is consistent with the main distinction the teacher sets up at the very beginning of the lesson between Swahililanguage stories and those of English. As this portion of the dialogue appears to illustrate, the self-confessed incomprehension of Aisha and her selected classmates leads the teacher to assume their absorption of the story can be optimally enhanced by a move out of Swahili into English, likely their better language. What’s lost in Swahili can be found—in English. This, for better or worse, seems to confirm that to participate effectively in this classroom community as a speaker or listener, one must have some English-language knowledge, given the place of English in the Swahili classroom (as shown by previous excerpts from the morning class). The fact that English is the teacher’s first alternative language probably has as much to do with her own personal relationship with language and fluency in the language, as well as with the general assumption that all of the outside, non-Tanzanian world beyond Africa is proficient in English. 377 A first-language speaker of Italian, Bahati’s English speech is accompanied by sound stretches (‘a::nd’, ‘e::h’, ‘to::’) and successive pauses, which are interpreted by the teacher as potential trouble areas, drawing an injection of vocabulary from the teacher (line 176 below). Here, the teacher reasserts her established profile as competent speaker of English, and also scaffolds Bahati’s performance. Bahati takes on the teacher’s suggestion of ‘travel’ and incorporates it into her account of the story (line 177 above). In her words the desperate hunger of Cat is explained, as well as Mouse’s suggestion that s/he should ‘sample the boat to be more, more fat’ (line 189-190), that Cat should curb her/his appetite on something other than a fellow sailor. Excerpt 34: 191 T: Mm. 192 Bah: Mm:: So the: [.] mouse start to:: to eat the boat. But after:: 193 few days, they don’t have the boat and, e::h so they start 194 to:: to swim. E::h, until they reach ah, reach the land. And so 195 the:y, at that point the: mouse is e:h fatter (?), and so cat want 196 to [.] want to eat him. So:: [.] the: mouse say that now he’s u::h 197 ve:ry: dirty, so he wait u::h another [.] another e:h, and then, 198 go:: on a trip, 199 G: ((briefly extends left hand)) A bath. 200 Bah: he say that go to: take a bath, but instead he: he go into: [.] 201 G: He went into a hole. The hole. 202 L: ((to Aisha)) Sh:i—shimo. Ho— hole. 378 203 G: Hole. Shimo. Hole. 204 Ss: Mm. Schi—shimo. Hole. Schimo. ((quieter)) Shimo. Shimo. Ho— hole. Hole. Hole. Hole. 205 Bah: So the cat waiting and [.] wai[ting 206 T: [And here today, I think today, 207 Bah: to 208 T: waiting. 209 G: ((la[ughs)) 210 T: [((laughs)) Asante! [((claps)) Asante sana. ((returns to front of Thank you! 211 212 Ss: Thank you very much. [((claps)) T: room)) Unaona na-ni? Ninaona: uh, smiling faces! You see, what’s it? I see uh, 213 214 Ss: ((short laughs)) T: Kwamba, hadithi imeeleweka sasa! Ndiyo? So then, the story is understood now! Yes? 215 216 Ss: Uh huh. T: Ni nzuri? Ni mbaya? Is it good? Is it bad? 217 Ss: Mm::: Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 191-217 379 Throughout Bahati’s re-telling of the story are four instances where her voice is joined by another. First, the teacher supplies verbs (line 176 above) as she scaffolds Bahati’s effort, and then the original storyteller, Gladys, appears to take ownership (line 183 above) by steering the narrative away from ‘they’ to ‘the Cat’, and later with a full statement: ‘He went into a hole’ (line 201 above). In line 206, the teacher overlaps her utterance (line 206) with Bahati’s and changes the subject to indicate her satisfaction with the re-telling she has heard, making reference to the now ‘smiling faces’ (line 212), which is evidence, to the teacher, of increased comprehension among the class. It is possible to see these turns by the teacher and Gladys as interruptions and abbreviations of Bahati’s narrative, serving the purpose of limiting her authority. Another interpretation would be that these turns are scaffolding efforts that occur after trouble areas are identified, thereby aiding Bahati in moving the English narrative forward. Either way, Bahati is recognized as a committed and fairly proficient Swahili-speaker by her peers and teacher, who know her for her consistent refusal to speak English on campus due to her desire to practice and improve her Swahili. On this day in the Swahili-language class, Bahati is not called upon to use more Swahili; she is instead asked to perform in English, an act which she has consistently avoided since coming to Tanzania, which is probably part of the reason why she earlier attempts to reroute the task into a paraphrasing of the story in Swahili (line 143 above). Ultimately, her ability to provide a synopsis of the story in English presupposes an ability to adequately comprehend the Swahili in which the story was originally delivered, an identity confirmed here through her selection by the teacher to perform this translation task. The input that the teacher and Gladys, the original storyteller, provide puts them into alignment as two self-positioned authorities on English in the classroom community. Gladys 380 knows her own story, knows her own wording, and possesses a strong English voice, which she illustrates in her dual-language assertion of ‘He went into a hole […] Hole. Shimo’ (lines 201, 203 above). It would make sense that Gladys claims her authority in the ownership of the story she gave voice to earlier, and also in her strong intimacy with English, having learned it from an early age in her home community in Ghana. The teacher, herself a member of the higher education community in Tanzania, having completed her schooling in English, therefore communicates her own strong intimacy with the language through her suggestion of vocabulary to Bahati (line 176 above). Too, the overlapping laughter of the teacher and Gladys, following Bahati’s narrative (lines 209-210 above), appears to point to an implicit alignment among the two of them. This alignment reoccurs later on in the classroom talk, when a consensus is reached by the classroom members that it is time to feature another student’s story, and Gladys overlaps with the teacher’s speech as the teacher selects Felix to be the next storyteller (lines 299-300 below). Later, Gladys also follows the teacher’s ‘Karibu’ (line 303) with ‘Asante’ (line 304), putting herself on equal footing with the teacher in welcoming the next storyteller to the fore. Excerpt 35: 296 T: Mmesikia? Sasa wameka[sirika. Wanataka mvulana. Have you all heard? Now they are mad. They want a boy. 297 G: [Ye—yeye. ((points to Felix)) Hi— him. 298 S: Mvulana. Boy. 381 299 T: Tena [wewe. ((points to Felix)) Again you. 300 G: [Yeye. Yeye. Wewe.// Him. 301 Him. You. S: //Wewe. You. 302 F: U::h. ((comes up to stand behind lectern)) 303 T: Karibu. Welcome. 304 G: Asante. Thank you. 305 F: U::h. Hadithi:? Hadithi, hadithi? U::h. Story? 306 307 Story, story? T: [Hadithi njoo! Uwongo njoo! Utamu kolea! Ss: [Hadithi njoo! Uwongo njoo! Utamu kolea! Kolea. Kolea. ((laughs)) May the story come! May the lie come! Enhance the sweetness! Enhance. Enhance. 308 G: [5.0] Anza. Begin. 309 F: Nimesahau e:h I have forgotten [it] eh. 382 310 Ss: ((long lau[ghs)) Ama? Amekataa! ((laughs)) 26 He has? 311 F: He refuses! [I’m sorry. ((returns to seat)) 312 Ham: 313 T: Ha[ya. Okay. 314 G: [Haya. Okay. 315 T: ((to Felix)) Karibu. [You are] welcome. 316 G: ((to Felix)) Karibu. [((laughs)) ((laughs)) [You are] welcome. 317 T: [((laughs)) 318 A: [((smiles)) Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 296-318 An alignment between the teacher and Gladys occurs again at the end of Felix’s time in front of the class when the teacher acknowledges his time has come to a close with ‘Haya’ (line 313) and ‘Karibu’ (line 315), both of which are shadowed by Gladys. The synchronization of their speech is potentially acknowledged by the laughter that ensues and triggers grander student !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 26 Though ama is usually regarded as having the English equivalent or, I have choose here to translate it in the context of the statement that follows it ‘amekataa!’ (He has refused, he refuses!). Given that ama is a word rarely, if ever, used in this classroom community, I think it more likely that the speakers were approximating ame- in preparation to say ‘amekataa!’ (line 310, afternoon class). 383 laughter. The laughter of the larger group could also be a result of the new storyteller having to renounce his position in front of the class because of his self-admission to having forgotten the story he wanted to tell. Nevertheless, the storyteller confirmed his understanding of the storytelling routine by prefacing his remarks with the requisite call and response script ‘Hadithi, hadithi’ (line 305) from a position behind the lecturn, though in an insecure, rising intonation. It is also worthwhile to note that the storyteller supports his Swahili confession ‘Nimesahau’ (line 309), prompted by a Gladys’ command to begin, ‘Anza’ (line 308), with an English apology, ‘I’m sorry’ (line 311), knowing that this use of English will be acceptable within this community of practice. Ethnographic Vignette #5: Bakari Participates in Post-Story Word Analysis As illustrated in excerpts from the morning class, the established classroom practice for learners to demonstrate their understanding of target vocabulary is to provide an English translation through an IRE sequence. After Gladys’ story of the Cat and Mouse, the teacher indicates that the immediate task will be to review ‘msamiati mpya’ (line 219) (new vocabulary). Soon afterwards she translates her own words into ‘New vocabulary’ (lines 219), implicitly communicating her acceptance of the use of English during the forthcoming exercise. Three examples of new vocabulary are examined by way of the IRE sequence: The meanings of shimo (lines 220-226), mashua (lines 226-230), paka (lines 230-237), panya (lines 237-239), and kukonda (lines 240-247) must be furnished in English by learners, in order to be accepted by the teacher as fully comprehended. 384 Excerpt 36: 218 T: Labda, mmoja anaweza na—ye yote anayefikiri kwamba katika Perhaps, one can 219 and—anyone who thinks that in hadithi hii, amepata msamiati mpya. Na-ni upi? New vocabulary. this story, they have gained new vocabulary. What’s it, which [vocabulary]? 220 Ni upi? Katika hadithi hii. [1.5] ‘Shimo:’? Mm. Shimo? Which [vocabulary] is it? In this story. [1.5] Mm. Hole? 221 S: Shimo u::m shimo. Hole u::m hole. 222 T: Shi-mo? [Shi [.] mo? Ho-le? Ho le? 223 G: [Hole. 224 T: Mm. ((raises head toward Gladys)) 225 G: Hole. 226 T: Ndiyo, ((nods)) ndiyo. Shimo: ((nods)). ‘Mashua’? Yes, 227 yes. Hole G: ((quiet)) Mashu:a// Watercraft/boat 228 T: //Mashua. Watercraft/boat 229 S: ((in English)) 385 Watercraft/boat? 230 T: Mm m: m: m: mashua. Ndiyo? ((nods)) [Mm. Mm. Lab—‘paka’?! Mm b: b: b: boat. 231 232 Yes? Ss: Mm. Mm. Perh—‘cat’?! [ T: [Paka?! Cat?! 233 Ss: [ 234 Ss: Uh huh? Hm? 235 T: Paka? Cat? 236 Ss: Paka. Paka. A cat. Cat. Cat. Cat. 237 T: Ndiyo. ((nods)) [1.0] Na ‘pan(y)a’? Yes. 238 239 Ss: Mouse. T: Ndiyo. M: [m: mm::? ((leans in to Gladys)) Yes. 240 And ‘mouse’? [Konga. Konga. Grow old. 241 G: M: m: mm::? Grow old. T: Konga?! Ndiyo. Konda. Kukonda. [1.0] Konda. [1.0] Kukonda? Grow old?! Yes. Thin. 242 To thin. ((points to Eloise)) // 386 Thin. To thin? 243 G: //Kukonda. To thin. 244 E: To be small. 245 T: Be small. Be thin. 246 247 Ss: To grow lean. Economy. T: Ndiyo. [.] ((raises voice)) ‘Kunenepa’? Yes. ‘To become fat’? Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 218-247 For shimo, it takes three turns before the word introduced in question form (line 220 below) meets a suitable English counterpart, ‘hole’ (line 222). Paka, also suggested by the teacher in question form (line 230) is responded to by learners with ‘cat’ within the next five turns (line 236), and met with teacher approval in the following turn (line 237). The sequence for panya is accomplished even more efficiently, with students supplying its English-language counterpart within one turn (line 237) and receiving teacher approval (line 239). Next, when the script for konga (grow old) is introduced by Gladys (line 240) the teacher interprets this as an attempt to initiate a script for konda (thin), most likely because the word konga did not appear in the Swahili story. However, the sequence is advanced by Eloise’s (E) offer of an English definition (line 244), the teacher’s repeat of ‘Be small’, elaborating with ‘Be thin’ (line 245). Next, learners reply with the explanations, ‘To grow lean. Economy’ (line 246), which enables the teacher to complete the sequence by supplying the requisite approval ‘Ndiyo’ (line 247). 387 What can be observed in the next portion of talk is what happens when the IRE sequence is not specifically followed, or when the type of answer supplied (a definition in Swahili rather than a translation into English) is not deemed to be sufficient. In this case, the teacher’s reaction is to redirect attention to the humor of the Bakari’s (Bak) renegade response in Swahili, repeating it with rising intonation (line 249). When Bakari later returns with ‘To be fat’ (line 254), his statement this time in English, the teacher again repeats what he has said, but this time without rising intonation (line 255), suggesting that she does not question this definition for Kunenepa. This clears the way for the interactional sequence to be later completed with ‘Ndiyo’ (line 259), the teacher’s show of approval. Excerpt 37: 243 G: //Kukonda. 244 E: To be small. 245 T: Be small. Be thin. 246 247 Ss: To grow lean. Economy. T: Ndiyo. [.] ((raises voice)) ‘Kunenepa’? Yes. ‘To become fat’? 248 Bak: U::h. [.] Ku:: kuongeza uzito. U::h. 249 To to add/gain weight. T: Ongeza uzito? ‘Nenepa’? [.] Nenepa? ((hunches shoulders, walks Add/gain weight? ‘Become fat’? [.] Become fat? 250 heavily across front of room)) Mwalimu amenenepa! Teacher has become fat! 388 251 S: [((laughs)) 252 T: [Mwalimu! ((laughs)) Mwalimu amenepa! ((hunches shoulders)) Teacher! 253 Teacher has become fat! Mwalimu! ((laughs)) Eh? Amenenepa? Nenepa? Teacher! Eh? Has she become fat? Become fat? 254 Bak: To be fat. 255 T: To be fat. 256 S: To be fat. 257 T: Mnene? ((holds up forearms)) [.] Mnene? Nenepa? Fat person? 258 Fat person? Become fat? G: Mnene. Nene.// Fat person. Fat. 259 T: //Ndiyo. Ne-ne-pa. Yes. Be-come fat. 260 S: 261 T: ((points to Gladys)) Uh huh? [2.0] Msamiati mwingine? [2.0] Mm? Uh huh? 262 263 ((leans in to Eloise)) E: ‘Tafuna’. ‘Chew’. 264 T: Tafuna:. [2.5] Tafuna? Chew. 265 Chew? G: ((faint)) To chew. 389 Other vocabulary? Mm? 266 T: ‘Tafuna mashua’? ‘Chew [the] watercraft/boat’? 267 G: ((faint)) To chew. 268 T: To chew? ((quieter)) Chew? ((looking at Gladys)) [4.5] ‘Tafuna ‘Chew 269 mashua’. ‘[the] watercraft/boat’ 270 G: To chew. 271 T: Mmhmm! Msamiati mwingine? [1.0] Mpya kabisa. Mmhmm! Other vocabulary? 272 Completely new [one]. G: [3.0] ((faint)) ‘Kisiwa’. ‘Island’. 273 T: Kisiwa? Kisiwa. Island? Island. 274 G: Island.// 275 T: //(H)island. Kisiwa:. [2.0] Visiwa vya Comoro. [1.0] Comoro? [3.0] Island. 276 Comoros Islands. Ss: Coromo. ((short laugh)) Coromo ya ? of 277 G: ((to Eloise)) Comoro islands. 390 278 T: ((laughs)) 279 S: Coromo. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 243-279 Here, the IRE sequence for kunenepa is initiated by the teacher with a question formation (line 247 above), and met with a logical Swahili explanation by Bakari, ‘kuongeza nzito’ (line 248), (to add/gain weight). Though this Swahili explanation demonstrates this learner’s comprehension of the meaning of kunenepa, it responds to the teacher’s initiation of the interaction in a manner that does not proceed into teacher approval and the close of the sequence. Bakari’s choice to participate using Swahili during this IRE, something previously not attempted in the class, amounts to a response that the teacher feels is necessary to elaborate upon. It could be that the teacher recognizes Bakari’s comprehension of the Swahili verb, but wants to make sure that the other learners are on board as well. This may be why she does not offer any praise or evaluation of his Swahili definition and instead proceeds to playfully dramatize the posture and oversized weight of a fat person. By repeating the target word during her dramatization and afterwards, with rising intonation (lines 250-253), the teacher indicates that she is still searching for a satisfactory learner response. His previous Swahili definition not accepted, Bakari this time supplies an English translation (line 254), which appears to be accepted by the teacher in the next turn—it is not repeated with rising intonation (line 255). The teacher goes on to query learners as to the relationship of the noun Mnene to the verb stem Nenepa in line 257, and receives a satisfactory response from Gladys in the next turn (line 258). The sequence, having received a preliminary 391 evaluation from the teacher in line 255, if fully closed in line 259, when the teacher vocalizes her approval in Ndiyo (Yes). In all, this segment of talk illustrates how code choice plays a role in the regulation of a key practice in this classroom community. Bakari’s initial attempt at providing a Swahili definition of the target word may be interpreted as a narrow act of resistance of the status quo. However, this resistance is limited because Bakari falls back into sync with the prescribed code choice for the word analysis practice, some three turns later. With two words Bakari summarily defends his self-positioning as Swahili-speaker and challenges the prescription that a learner’s comprehension of Swahili can only be demonstrated through English translation. Though his Swahili contribution is not praised by the teacher, it nonetheless marks his initial stance toward the post-story activity. Another reason why this is a crucially important talk episode is because it illustrates how the use of English had by this point become a regular feature of the Swahili-language classroom. The inclusion, then, of English in the post-story activity is not really anything new in this setting. To be sure, the activity frame of storytelling is a recent innovation for novice community members, but English has been a part of their Swahili experience in this setting from the very beginning. Ethnographic Vignette #6: Hamisi’s Story, Mwizi na Jengele Here, I present the third and final story told in class that day, this literary performance unique in its incorporation of a riddle posed to the listening audience. The performance of this story, and its ensuing response, demonstrate how the storyteller deviates from the Swahililanguage story script in order to pursue his own goal of challenging the audience with a 392 brainteaser. The mixed response he receives from the teacher illustrates his choice of story to be non-canonical, and incomplete in her view. Altogether, this final story shows how a learner asserts agency in an innovation of the Swahili-language story, and how his departure from the codified story-script becomes his method of improvising a unique iteration of the story as didactic, performative vehicle of cultural knowledge. Hamisi (Ham) tells the final story of the day, and unlike Bahati and Gladys before him, he appears to be performing somewhat extemporaneously, with no prepared storyline to read from. As he represents it, the Swahili-language story predictably begins with a call from the storyteller and a response from his audience (lines 319-321 below). The plot is then set in the unspecific past—a long time ago—using ‘Hapo zamani’ (line 322), and the main character, a foolish thief, is introduced with kulikuwa na, a variant of ‘there was/were’ (line 322). All of this is very much in line with the stories that have already transpired throughout the day. What is different about Hamisi’s hadithi ya uwongo (story of lies), however, is the way in which he chooses to use it as an opportunity to engage his audience from his temporary role of teacher, check their understanding (e.g, line 326), and eventually test their savvy through the incorporation of a riddle of the thief’s own doing. In this way, some of the now, newly traditional post-story activity (given the classroom community’s recent absorption of this practice) becomes internal to the delivery and performance of the story itself. Excerpt 38: 319 Ham: ((comes to front of room, to stand behind lectern)) U::h, hadithi U::h, story 320 hadithi. story. 393 321 Ss: Hadithi njoo, uwongo njoo, utamu kolea. May the story come, may the lie come, enhance the sweetness. 322 Ham: Okay. ((holding up index finger)) Hap—hapo zamani, m: kulikuwa Okay. 323 A—a long time ago, m: there was na [.] mwizi mmoja. one thief. 324 S: ((short laugh)) 325 T: Ndiyo. Yes. 326 Ham: ((turns to bulk of students)) Unajua ‘mwizi’. You know ‘thief’. 327 T: [Ndiyo! Yes! 328 Ss: [Ndiyo. Yes. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 319-328 The storyline of the thief, and his quest to steal the bell, thus becomes enveloped in the interchange between storyteller and audience: ‘Unajua “mwizi”’ (line 326 above); ‘Unajua “kengele”’ (line 330 below). Positioning his peers as potential novices, the storyteller asks in Swahili, You know ‘thief’, drawing the response ‘Ndiyo’ (Yes) from both teacher (line 327 above) and students (line 328). And then, ‘You know “bell”’, which meets a vague response 394 from students (line 331 below), and almost has Hamisi turn to write the word on the chalkboard (line 332). But just before he turns to the chalkboard behind him, the teacher intervenes, supplying an English-language equivalent for ‘kengele’ (line 333), which Hamisi revoices and directs to his peers (line 334). Then Gladys revoices kengele yet again (line 335), showing her understanding and recognition of the word as new knowledge, through a nod and accompanying ‘A:h’. Excerpt 39: 329 Ham: Siku moja: alitembea tembea tembea ajabu. Na [.] alipotembea, One day he walked [and] walked [and] walked [to an extreme]. And [.] while he was walking, 330 aliona: kengele moja. ((turns again to students)) Unajua ‘kengele’. he saw one bell. 331 332 333 You know ‘bell’. S: Unh un:h. Ham: ((starts to turn to chalkboard)) [((stops)) T: [‘Kengele’? Bell. ‘Bell’? 334 335 336 Ham: ((to students)) ‘Bell’. G: ((nods)) ‘Bell’. A:h okay. Ham: ((resumes story)) Alifikiri: ke[ngele hii ni kengele: nzuri sana. He thought this bell is a very good bell. 337 T: [Kengele. Bell. 395 338 Ham: Alipenda san(a). Kwa: hiyo:, alitaka ko—kuiiba. ((makes grabbing He liked [it] a lot. Therefore, he wanted to—to steal it. 339 340 motion with right hand)) S: Mmhmm. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 329-340 The defining of kengele as bell allows the plot to move forward, and Hamisi next describes the thief’s state of mind; the thief thought (to himself) that this bell is a very good bell, and therefore he wanted to steal it, a point accentuated by the storyteller’s gesture of grabbing something, rather than through translation. According to Hamisi, the thief thought the bell was good enough to steal (lines 336, 338 above). But this is not all that the thief was thinking, and Hamisi makes this clear by giving the thief his own voice, using the first person ‘mimi’ (I), to accomplish this through reported speech (lines 341-346 below). Through the animation of the thief’s inner voice, Hamisi portrays this main character as a dim-witted crook, one who believes that attending to a bell, like a sheepherder to his flock, will lead to the bell growing in size and 27 sound: ‘Kama mi—kama mimi niki ifu(d)a kengele hiyo, kengele hiyo inanipa(a). Yaani, ita [.] inakuwa na sauti mkubwa’ (lines 341-343). In the thief’s view, the foreseeably greater sound of the stolen bell will make it tougher to conceal—he will be caught: ‘…watanikamata’ (line 344). He must find a way to steal the bell without being put down: ‘…nitafute njia—njia moja, kuiba kengele hii, uh bila ya kupunguliwa’ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 27 The speaker’s utterance, ‘ifu(d)a’ (line 342, afternoon class), is interpreted here as an approximation of ifuga (raise it/grow it), as might be accomplished through an accent. This is a logical interpretation because in the speaker also says ‘inanipa(a)’ (line 342, afternoon class) in reference to the bell, which will grow in size. 396 (lines 345-436). What should he do? The question is first heard by the listening audience via the thief’s own inner voice, indexed through the use of the first person: ‘Nina-fanya-je?’ (line 344), and later in the storyteller’s narrative voice, ‘Na unajua njia gani?’ (line 347). Before this second question, we are told that after thinking and thinking, and thinking for a longer time still, the thief was able to figure out a way to conceal the growing bell: ‘Na alifikiri fikiri, alifikiri kwa m(u)da mrefu sana. Na mwishowe alipata njia moja’ (lines 346-347). And what did the thief do? The storyteller challenges his audience to figure this out. ‘Unajua?’, he asks again, outstretching his hand to the class (line 348), signifying that the game is afoot; it is time for the audience to engage in decoding the riddle or kitendawili he has laid before them. Excerpt 40: 341 Ham: Lakini ((holds up index finger)) alifik(i)ri, ‘Kama mi—kama mimi: But 342 niki [.] ifu:(d)a if I 343 28 if I kengele hiyo, kengele hiyo inanipa(a). Yaani, ita [.] raise/grow that bell, that bell it will rise/grow. That is, it will inakuwa na sauti mkubwa. Na, u:h watu wengine, u:h watani [.] have 344 he thought, ‘If I— [a] big sound. And, u:h many people, u:h [they] will pungua na: watanikamata. Na, nina-fanya-je? Yaani, u:h, nika: put me down and they will capture me. And, what am I to do? That is, u:h I then 345 lazima: nitafu:te njia—njia moja, kuiba ken:gele hii, uh bila ya better I search for way—one way, to steal this bell, uh without !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 28 See note above. 397 346 kupunguliwa.’ Na alifikiri fikiri, alifikiri kwa m(u)da mrefu sana. Na being put down.’ And he thought [and] thought, [and] thought for a very long time. And 347 mwishowe alipata njia moja. Na unajua njia gani? ((looking at finally 348 he got one way. And do you know which way? students, smiles)) [.] Unajua? ((briefly outstretches hand to class)) Do you know? 349 T: [Mm::! Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 341-349 The challenge of the riddle certainly piques the teacher’s interest (line 349 above), and a first attempt by a fellow learner to solve the mystery is unsuccessful (lines 351-356 below), as the storyteller’s response and the audience’s laughter affirm. Excerpt 41: 349 T: [Mm::! 350 L: [((raises hand)) 351 F: [Ndiyo. Kuamka? Yes. 352 To wake up? Ham: Uh huh? 398 353 F: Kuamka? [ To wake up? 354 Ham: [‘Kuamka’? ‘To wake up’? 355 F: Ndiyo. Au kuam—sijui sijui. Yes. 356 357 Or to wake—I don’t know I don’t know. Ss: ((short laugh)) L: ((raises hand)) Labda ni kama: kuweka: mkono ((places hands at Perhaps it’s like to put [the] hand 358 sides of head)) juu ya masiki(o)? ((laughs)) over [the] ears? 359 Ham: ((snaps fingers)) Ndiyo:. Yes. 360 361 T: U:h huh. Ham: Alipata njia! Na alisema, ‘Kama ni mimi [.] ((places hands at sides He got a way! And he said, ‘If [it’s] I 362 of head)) nili [.] funika: masikio yangu, na [.] sita:—sitasiki:si I covered my ears, and I will not—I will not hea— 363 sitasiki:—sikia:: sauti ya kengele. Na watu wengene—watu I will not hea—hear [the] sound of [the] bell. And other people— other people 399 364 wengine hawa:—hawani:pungua. Yaani hawataka kengele hiyo. they are not—they are not putting me down. That is, they don’t want that bell. 365 [Hawanifikiri. ((smiles)) They are not thinking of me. 366 367 Ss: [((quiet laughs)) Ham: . Kwa kweli siyo yangu.’ Kwenda hivi(yo). ((returns to seat)) [It’s] really not mine.’ 368 369 370 371 [It] goes like that. Ss: [Oh! Ah! ((claps)) T: [E:h! ((claps)) ((returns to front of classroom)) Ss: [ S: [A:::h! ((laughs)) Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 349-371 However, a second attempt at solving the riddle is successful, as Lulu offers the following solution, prompting the storyteller to snap his fingers in agreement: ‘Labda ni kama kuweka mkono juu ya masiki(o)?’ (Maybe it’s like putting [the] hand over [the] ears?, lines 357358 above). Yes, the storyteller replies, he found a way! (lines 359, 361). As part of this interaction, the role of Hamisi as storyteller and teacher is ratified by Lulu’s raised hand, a student’s act of asking permission to speak. Within this perspective (of Hamisi as temporary teacher), his asking for a solution, Lulu’s response, and his own subsequent, positive evaluation, become an IRE sequence. 400 Then, the solving of the riddle enables the listeners to next experience the conclusion of the story, most of which comes through in the voice of the thief. The storyteller goes on to offer only one concluding statement to indicate that the story is complete. ‘Kwenda hivi(yo),’ Hamisi says (line 367 below). It goes like that. Hamisi next makes an immediate move back to his seat and is met with applause (lines 367-369). The teacher’s succeeding reaction to the story, following her applause (line 369) is in her judgment of ‘nzuri sana’ (very good) (line 372 below). Nonetheless, in her view, ‘there was something missing’ (line 382), a point she emphasizes through the use of English: ‘What was the (h)outcome?’ (line 374). There wasn’t enough to the story, and teacher decides that Hamisi should add more to it: ‘Na ninafikiri unatakiwa ku [.] kuongeza [.] zaidi’ (lines 372-373). This is similar to the teacher’s response to Bahati’s story about Mtoto Sitaki, another story she felt was too short, and ‘missing something’. She responded positively to Gladys’ story about Cat and Mouse, but regarded that story as long. But what could satisfy the teacher? While the answer to that question is not fully clear, it is however evident that the teacher is intrigued by the story of the thief, and she wants to know what the outcome of the story is. Her key question: ‘hadithi hiyo inatufundisha nini?’ (line 382) (what does that story teach us?). Excerpt 42: 372 T: Nafikiri, hadithi hii ni nzuri sana. Na ninafikiri unatakiwa ku: [.] I think, this story is very good. And I am thinking you are needing to 373 kuongeza (?) [.] zaidi. Kwa sababu ni nzuri sana. What was the to add more. Because 401 it’s very good. 374 (h)outcome? ((laughs)) Mimi ninaziba masikio, nasema sitasikia I am covering [my] ears, I’m saying I won’t hear 375 kengele. Je, wengine wanasikia? Hao hawatasikia. [the] bell. [Question], can others hear? They will not hear. 376 377 Ss: ((laughs)) T: Ndiyo? [.] Watasiki[a! Yes? They will hear! 378 Kr: [Watasikia! They will hear! 379 T: Kwa hiyo wewe utasema ‘Ha:! Hawasikii.’ Kumbe wana (?) [.] Therefore you will say ‘Ha! They don’t hear.’ [To your surprise] they 380 sikia. Sijui. Labda ali:pelekwa kortini? Labda, he was arrested? hear. I don’t know. Perhaps he was sent to court? Perhaps, 381 Sijui. Lakini nafikiri mm kuna kitu kinatakiwa ku: [1.0] ili kujua: I don’t know. But I think mm there is something needed to [1.0] in order to know 382 hadithi hiyo inatufundisha nini? There is something missing. that story 383 teaches us what? Lakini, ni nzuri sana. Nimeipenda. Kwa sababu, sijui kama mwizi But, it’s very good. I liked it. [the] thief 402 Because, I don’t know if 384 amekuwa na akili. had 385 386 wit/intelligence. Ss: ((laug[hs)) T: [Kuwa na akili? Sijui. Lakini nafikiri hakuwa na akili kwa [He] had wit/intelligence? I don’t know. But I think he didn’t have wit/intelligence because 387 sababu: si kila mmoja anasikiliza kwa kutumia masikio yako. it’s not [that] everybody listens by using your ears. 388 Kweli. Kwa hiyo, mimi ((places hands at sides of head)) niki— True. Therefore, I 389 if I— nikiziba masikio, nyote hamsikii hapa? ((shakes head laterally)) if I cover [my] ears, you all won’t hear here? 390 Hapana. ((nods slightly)) Ndiyo? No. 391 Yes? Ss: Ndiyo. Ndiyo. Yes. Yes. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 372-391 Present in the teacher’s comments are not-so-veiled assessments of what a successful delivery of a Swahili-language story entails; the story must make sense, and there must be a lesson to be learned. In the case of the thief, it appears that the lack of a didactic, moral message left the teacher somewhat baffled about what to conclude from the story’s content. If the thief was a bad guy, why wasn’t he eventually arrested? And what should be made of the bell that the 403 thief supposes no one can hear? The bell makes no sense because of course someone else will hear it even if thief covers his own ears (lines 387-391)! What’s the point of it all? As the teacher comments: ‘Lakini nafikiri mm kuna kitu kinatakiwa ku [1.0] ili kujua hadithi hiyo inatufundisha nini? There is something missing’ (lines 381-382 above). Essentially, ‘But I think mm there [is] something required so that [we] know what that story is teaching us?’ There’s no way of knowing Hamisi’s exact intent, but perhaps he deliberately avoided a closer interpretation of the hadithi ya Kiswahili as represented in the teacher’s story of Bwana Kulakula. It could be that this was his way of accomplishing his own agenda of employing a riddle in his performance, and demonstrating his skill in Swahili by entertaining his peers in portraying the ignorance of a foolish thief. By all assessments, even the teacher was amused (as her enthusiasm shows, line 369 above). But this was not enough to deem this a success by the teacher’s standards, and the rules of delivering a Swahili-language story as she defines them within class (for the societal definition allows for more variation in the performance script and can involve riddles, though a moral message remains requisite; see, for example, Senkoro, 2006). The telling of these Swahili-language stories was among one of the few instances I experienced in the class, whereby the extended, almost lengthy use of Swahili by students was encouraged, and uninterrupted (at least for the duration of the story) by questions from the teacher, or uses of English. I can assert, with some certainty, that the telling of the story was an enjoyable experience for learners because it was an opportunity to use Swahili in a creative manner, and to elude the use, at least during the telling of the story, of English, a language that some of these learners did not view as their most competent, alternative language. 404 Ethnographic Vignette #7: Similarities in Hadithi and Anansesεm Drawing upon the core message (as she sees it) from each of the stories told by her students, and her own story about Bwana Kulakula, the Dar es Salaam teacher reminds the class of the function of stories in the Tanzanian setting, chief among of them ‘Kuhifadhi utamaduni’ (line 594 below) (to preserve culture), and ‘zinatufundisha pia’ (line 605 below) (they teach us, too). In this final vignette from the afternoon class, excerpts illustrate how the teacher views the contribution of Swahili-language stories within Tanzanian society, as well their uniqueness as opposed to stories of other languages. Asking learners about stories of other languages, the teacher gets a response from Gladys and Felix with regards to the Twi-language story. But first, the teacher’s point of view: Excerpt 43: 581 S: 582 T: [Saidia hapo! [.] Any more? [.] Bas(i)! Mmhmm? Help [over] there! [.] Any more? [.] Well/enough! Mmhmm? 583 G: Wakati mwingine, Another time, 584 T: Ndiyo. Yes. 585 G: A::h hadithi::// A::h story 586 T: //Mm. 405 587 G: na:: na:: [.] na fahihi kama utamaduni. and and 588 and [literature] like culture. T: Inafaa? It suits/fits? 589 G: Kufahidi? To [non-word] 590 T: Kufaidi? [.] A:::h! Kutunza, To benefit? [.] A:::h! To take care of, 591 G: Kutunz To [take care of] 592 T: au kuhifadhi.// or to preserve. 593 G: //Kuhifadhi. ((nods)) To preserve. 594 T: Mm. ((nods)) Kuhifadhi utamaduni. Ndiyo. Ndiyo. Lakini pia, Mm. 595 To preserve culture. Yes. Yes. also, ((holds up index finger)) nafikiri kikubwa zaidi, inaweza I think big[ger] still, 596 But it [the story] can kufundisha. [.] ((nods)) Kufundisha pia. Kwamba, ‘Usifanye hiki: teach. To teach do this [thing] 406 also. That, ‘You shouldn’t 597 usifanye hiki: kwa sababu, kina madhara, f:ulani.’ ((points to you shouldn’t do this [thing] because, it has [bears] certain, harm. 598 Felix)) ‘Usile sa:na, usi(j)e ukaanza kutapika.’ [.] Mm? Ndiyo, ‘You shouldn’t eat [too] much, you shouldn’t eat [such that] you then throw up/vomit.’ [.] Mm? Yes, 599 labda, ‘Uwe unasikiliza wazazi, usije ukafunzwa na (?) [.] perhaps, ‘You should be listening to parents, [if not] you [will] then be taught by (?) [.] 600 S: Ulimwengu. The world. 601 T: mabaya [.] katika maisha.’ [.] Unaona? bad 602 in life.’ You see? Asiyefunzwa na (?) [.] na anayefunzwa na (?) [.] [Ulimwengu. He who is not taught by (?) [.] and is taught by (?) [.] The world. 603 G: [Ulimwengu. The world. 604 T: Unaona? Kwa hiyo, hadithi: inaweza kusaidia kuhifadhi You see? Therefore, [the] story can help 605 to preserve utamaduni, lakini zinatufundisha pia. Hasa kwa watoto wadogo. culture, but they teach us as well. Especially for small children. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 581-605 407 The practice of Swahili-language story activity supports the use of English within the class as a vehicle for supplemental instruction and comprehension checks. After the close of Hamisi’s story of the thief and the bell, initial comments by the teacher lead into further poststory activity on the singular characteristics of the Swahili-language story. The teacher returns to her earlier conception of story as intimately linked to language, which, in turn, signifies cultural difference. She asks learners if there is any difference to be discovered between Swahililanguage stories and stories of other languages with which they are familiar: ‘Kuna tofauti unayoweza kuigundua kati ya hadithi za Kiswahili, na hadithi za lugha nyingine unazozifahamu?’ (lines 392-394 below). By way of example, the teacher mentions the languages of English, Korean, and German (lines 400-401), and then comes to stand in front of the day’s most successful storyteller, Gladys, pushing for an answer to her question. ‘Unajua?’ (line 402), the teacher asks: Do you know? Through her questioning, the teacher speaks through her own ideology, one in which the notion of language is primordially linked to ethnicity and culture (Lewellen, 2002). A story told in such a language will be told in this way, with language a determinant of both a story’s cultural style, and the storyteller’s identity (as practiced and manifested through story itself). Excerpt 44: 392 T: Ndiyo. [.] Sasa, labda niulize swali moja. Kuna tofauti unayoweza Yes. Now, perhaps I should ask one question. Is there [a] difference that you can 393 kuigundua kati ya hadithi za Kiswahili, na hadithi za lugha nyingine discover [it] between Swahili-language stories, and stories of other languages 408 394 unazozifahamu? which you understand [them]? 395 F: Unaweza ku:sema tena? Can you say [that] again? 396 T: Kuna tofauti, yo yote. ‘Tofauti’? Is there [a] difference, any. ‘Difference’? 397 S: Difference. 398 T: Any difference. Kati ya ((points down in reference to location)) Between 399 hadithi za Kiswahili, na hadithi za lugha nyingine, ((makes outward Swahili-language stories, and stories of other languages, 400 swirls with index fingers)) kama Kiingereza, labda, Kikorea, labda, like English, perhaps, Korean, perhaps 401 Ki—Kijeruman, labda, kuna tofauti? Labda? ((moves to stand in Ger—German, perhaps, is there [a] difference? Perhaps? 402 front of Gladys)) Labda kama ((to Gladys)) wewe. Unajua? Perhaps like 409 you. Do you know? 403 G: A::h ku:: nu:: to[fauti dogo. A::h [there is a] small difference. 404 T: [There is kidogo? [a] small [one]? Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 392-404 In the teacher’s remarks, storytelling cultures are therefore essentialized in their presentation as language-dependent constructs. This ideology has the effect of making classroom community members representatives of their home storytelling cultures, as the teacher points around the room, calling out other language the students know (line 394 above), including English, Korean, and German, as students’ representative languages (lines 400-401). What is important here, to which I aim to draw attention, is the teacher’s overall essentialized orientation to language and sociocultural practice. In many ways, this orientation relates to the prevailing Tanzanian assumption of Wazungu or White/non-African foreigners as dominant speakers of Kizungu or English, and draws upon the historically unequal relationship between East African speakers of Swahili and their contact with outsiders as speakers of English (at least within the last two centuries). The process of Tanzanian nationalism, as alluded to earlier in this chapter, responded to the dominance of English in part, by creating in Swahili language an exclusivity of national identity that to this day successfully excludes peripheral speakers, and reproduces the contradictions in language use that the Dar es Salaam classroom exhibits in microcosm. There can be no mistaking that the English language today maintains a high degree of prestige in Tanzanian society, given that secondary and tertiary education are delivered primarily through English. However, this prestige is mediated by a regard for Swahili as a national language. 410 Among some Tanzanians is the expectation that outsiders should speak Swahili when in Tanzania, though these same Tanzanians may be the first in their interaction with the outsider to transition into English, or they might pose as an English-speaker in public, with the aid of friends, so as to be heard speaking English when an outsider is within ear’s reach (I witnessed this taking place when I was riding Dar es Salaam public transportation within earshot of local teenagers). This appropriation of Swahili interacts with the articulation of English-language indexicality in the classroom community. Another locus of intersubjectivity is in the use of Twi by the community’s inner group of Twi-speaking learners. As these learners interact in the class, speaking over one another, they use some of the same words, with different intentions, resulting in a cultural aside. I include a brief example of this here in to illustrate how the new creation of Swahili-language stories connects to learner-speakers’ existing cultural and linguistic concepts of story—in this case, anansesεm. These examples lend further support to use of term of Swahiliphone rather than the label Swahili for the description of the speaker of Swahili, and the oral literature s/he engages in as author-creator (Topan, 2006, for example, limits himself to the term Swahili). The descriptor Swahiliphone does more than any explanation of hybridity (as offered by Mazrui, 2007; Mazrui & Shariff, 1994) to respond to the reality of there being speakers of Swahili that draw upon their lived experiences (in multiple languages) in their creative use of the Swahili language while struggling to achieve recognition within established communities of Swahili-speakers (i.e., Dar es Salaam). These learner-speakers contribute their many voices to the multi-voicedness of the classroom community as a whole (cf., Blackledge & Creese, 2009). 411 In the final portion of the afternoon class, students respond to the teacher’s question on the difference of Swahili-language stories with those of other languages. The Ghanaian students, in particular, describe through Swahili, Twi, and later in English, the Akan-language story as a very similar genre in its use of predominant employ of animal characters, and initial call and response routine. Anansesεm, the Akan-language story, as it is termed in Twi (an Akan language), is like hadithi, and ‘it can be a lie, it can be anything’ (lines 488-489, below, afternoon class). In this way, anansesεm is also a story of lies. Excerpt 45: 488 F: [it’s like ‘story’. ‘Hadithi’. But, i::in Ghana we call it, ‘Story’. 489 ‘Anansesεm’. ‘Anansesεm’, it can be a lie, it can be anything. ‘Story’. ‘Story’. 490 T: M[m. ((nods)) Mm:. 491 F: [Sometimes it’s—you can call it ‘Anansesεm’ if you ask ‘Story’. 492 someone a question, and he gives you an answer, and you 493 don’t believe him,// 494 T: //Mm. 412 495 F: you can say ‘Wei yε anansesεm’. ‘This is a, [like a: story’. ‘This is a story’ [This is not true] 496 T: [O::::::h! Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 488-496 The first description of anansesεm comes from Gladys in her initial response to the teacher’s question on stories of other languages. The greatest point of comparison between anansesεm and hadithi is the use of a call and response routine, and this is what Gladys draws attention to in her use of ‘Kutambulisha’ (lines 443, 447 below) to describe how the story is introduced to the audience. Excerpt 46: 440 T: Labda kwe—kwenu:, unaweza kuwa na utangulizi? An Perhaps [in] you all’s—you all’s [home place], you are able to have [an] introduction? 441 442 introduction? G: U::h hapana—kama ((looks to her left at Eloise)) kwetu:, kuna— U::h no— like [in] our [home place], there is— 443 yeah, kuna kutambulish: [.] ((short laugh)) yeah, there is introduc 444 445 E: [((Exchange looks)) ((smile)) Hap: [((Exchange looks)) 413 446 T: ((nods)) Ndiyo? Yes? 447 G: [Kutambu [.] Kutambulisha. Introd 448 Introducing. T: Utangulizi? Intoduction? 449 G: Utangulizi. [Na: [.] tu:: tutasema: Introduction. And [.] we we will say 450 T: 451 G: [2.0] Um ((turns to look at Eloise)) aka: eh ((turns to look at 452 [Mm. Mm. Felix)) Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon, lines 440-452 It is a point of pride for Gladys to describe the storytelling culture of her language and she wants to make sure she gets her description correct. She turns to her peers to confirm what words are used in the routine (lines 451-452 above), and inadvertently initiates the call of ‘Anansesεm εsisio’ within their Twi speech network, illustrating the multi-voicedness of the classroom as a whole, and the multiple subjectivities at play in this setting. Amid Gladys’ explanation of the call and response routine of anansesεm, the call itself is issued by another Twi-speaking student to her peers ‘Anansesεm sisio’ (line 455 below); literally: A story happens or, there’s a story. 414 Excerpt 47: 453 F: Anansesεm29.// Story. 454 G: //((raises voice)) Anansesεm. εsisio:30 eh, [wata: Story. 455 Happened eh, they will I: [Anansesεm sisio: Story happens [I have a story for you] 456 G: ((extends left arm)) iti:ka ((outstretches both hands)) sensewaara. respond Tell me a story. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 29 A note on Twi orthography: So that the transcribed Twi spoken during this classroom interaction will be readily recognizable to others, anansesεm is presented here using popular Twi orthography as illustrated by online dictionaries such as Abibitumikasa, which relates anansesεm to ‘fable, fiction, folktale, legend, myth’ as well as ‘storytelling’. Accessed online, 21 September 2012. http://www.abibitumikasa.com/index.php?option=com_wrapper&view=wrapper&Itemid=194 30 In later written communication via email with Gladys (28 June 2012) some months after this classroom discussion (19 December 2011), she provided a description of the meaning of ‘Anansesem sisioo’, which comes from Twi, an Akan language of Ghana. As Gladys put it in her email response (I have made no textual changes): "Anansesem sisioo" ina maana kwamba "mambo mengi yanatokea kwenye hadithi" au kwa kiingereza "much happens in Follktales". Kuhusu utangulizi wa kusimulia hadthi msimulizi husema "Anansesem sisioo" na wasikilishaji huitikia "sensewaara". lakini kwa bahati mbaya sielewi maana ya "sensewaara". Mara nyingi katika hadithi za Akan, buibui anatumika sana na buibui aitwaye "Ananse". Katika hadithi za Akan buibui anaonekana kama mnyonyaji, mhuni, mkatili na mjanja sana yaani anatumika kuashiria mjanja. kuhusu tofauti, tofauti iko kwenye wahusika wanaotumika na kila mnyama ana ishara yake. 415 457 T: ((outburst)) O:[:h! 458 G: [ hivyo. ((laughs)) like that. 459 T: ((nods)) Napenda. ((smiles)) I like [it]. 460 461 Ss: ((la[ughs)) ((laughs)) ((laughs)) T: [((laughs)) Ninapenda. [.] I am liking [it]. 462 I: [((to Gladys)) Wutiε yε? εyε ‘anansesεm sisio::’ [.] Did you hear that? It is ‘story happens’ 463 T: [((toward Ghanaian students)) Mimi napenda! ((laughs)) I 464 G: ((to Ivy)) Ananasesεm sisio [.] Story 465 like [it]! happens F: A[nansesεm Story 466 G: [((looking at Felix)) Anansesem bεn? ((outstretches right What story? 467 hand, tilts head up)) Ka na mente. Say it and let me hear it. [Tell it to me so I can hear it] 468 F: Anansesεm sisio:: Story 469 happens G: A::h. 416 470 Hap: 471 T: ((loudly)) Oh! 472 S: Ndiyo Yes 473 G: Wata—watase:ma:: ‘Anansesεm sisio::’. [‘Anansesεm sisio::’. They will—they will say ‘Story 474 T: happens’. ‘Story happens’. [((leans in)) ‘Anan-sesεm sisio:’ ‘Story 475 F: It’s to say, like, ‘things happen’. Stories happen. 476 happens’ G: Ye:s. Dar es Salaam, Intermediate Swahili class with Mwalimu Magdeline, 19 December 2011, Afternoon 31 Ivy’s Twi-language story call ignored in the ensuing excitement and teacher’s outburst (line 457), following Gladys’ first mention of the call in line 454, she vies again for the response to her call failed to elicit. Ivy draws attention with ‘Wutiε yε? εyε “anansesεm sisio”’ (line 462) (Did you hear that? It is anansesεm sisio). The reply she is searching for is ‘Sensewaara’ (line 456), the canonical response to the call, relating: Oh, tell me more, or, What story? This underlying conversation is continued in Gladys’ response to the covert call, ‘Anansesεm bεn?’ (What story?) (line 466), and then ‘Ka na mente’ (Say it and let me hear it, or Tell it to me so I can hear it) (line 467). !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 31 I was assisted in this interpretation by a first-language speaker of Twi who listened with me to the recordings and took notice of parallel interactions going on between the Ghanaian learners during the segment in which Gladys and Felix were explaining the concept of anansesεm. 417 The multilingual interaction supported by these Dar es Salaam learners does well to highlight how the Swahili-language story, while a new phenomena, bares resemblance to other social practices elsewhere in the African continent (e.g., Accra, Ghana; Maroua, Cameroon) and the world at large (e.g., Scheub, 2012) that use language to consolidate social teaching. These data also illustrate how the evolving supraregional, supranational identity and authenticity of the Swahili language should be understood to include the collaborative, communicative encounters and contributions of L2 and L+ speakers of African and non-African descent, who enrich their use of the language with the depth of their life experiences. Within the Dar es Salaam classroom, as one frontier of Swahili-language use, I have observed the active processes of invention in the creative sense, the production of new oral literature, and the transfer of knowledge from Tanzanian to non-Tanzanian, Swahili to non-Swahili. The teaching of Standard Swahili in Dar es Salaam now potentially becomes a party to the further spread of the language to its global peripheries as these learners return to their home countries. Conclusions: Intersubjectivity in the New Swahili-language Story Though it may not be unusual to find learners sharing stories of some kind with one another in their language classrooms, a closer examination of this practice in the Dar es Salaam setting provides evidence of the oral story as Swahili cultural artifact, given new life by a contemporary second-language speaker. This storyteller, by virtue of their reenactment of Swahili storytelling script, then takes their place in the diachronic spectrum of East African knowledge systems, creating a new literary contribution that extends from their perspectives as L2 and L+ speakers (though it appears as though the teacher has the final say in whether the learner is a culturally competent Swahili-language speaker). In this sense, the learner’s 418 performance of story becomes an actualization of the frontier of Swahili-language learning in Dar es Salaam, where traditional practice meets with the creative intent of a new speaker of the language. Moreover, the Dar es Salaam setting can be interpreted as one in which the practice of telling stories in the Swahili oral sensibility is greatly valued by the classroom community and honored as a skill to be transmitted from expert practitioner (teacher) to novice (learner). The exploration of this concept with learners is itself initiated by the teacher, who takes care to explain hadithi ya Kiswahili, the Swahili-language story, as a unique practice within an imagined community of Swahili-speakers. The oral story is designed to be interactive, and to be directionally heard from the mouth of the elder to the ear of the youth. By the end of the afternoon class, a total of three stories are performed by learners within the class period: (1) Mtoto Sitaki (Child Idon’twant), (2) Paka na Pan(y)a (Cat and Mouse), and (3) Mwizi na Jengele (Thief and Bell). Even as the performances of these stories vary in their level of interactivity (beyond the introductory call and response), which may be a sign of learners’ novice status in this practice, each performance is arguably faithful to the most salient components of the storytelling script. Also explored here are the teacher-directed classroom routines associated with storytelling practice, such as the post-story review of select vocabulary through IRE sequences, and the solicitation of learner comments on the story’s meaning, as scripted routines of language use (cf., Gutierrez, 1994, Peters & Boggs, 1986). Through the successive presentation of the teacher’s exemplar and subsequent stories by learners, the notion of storytelling, as well as the practice of appropriately responding to stories, become essential means of demonstrating communicative competence as a member of the classroom speech community is examined in this 419 chapter. This communicative competence includes abilities to use: (1) linguistic knowledge in the form of word analysis and translation, (2) cultural knowledge in the performance of story, the role of an audience member, and deliverer of a moral message, as well as in applying (3) interaction skills, and (4) completing a story successfully. The three stories told by learners represent three subgenres of Swahili oral literature: (1) a proverb-induced story, (2) a story of how things came to be, and (3) a story upon a riddle. The Swahili-language story in this language classroom also variously involves methali (proverbs) and vitendawili (riddles) (cf. Eastman, 1984; Senkoro, 2006), and most crucially, there must be a lesson to be learned. The didactic role of the Swahili-language story (and its variable components) is such that stories and riddles have enjoyed a long history of being used as socialization tools and mechanisms for teaching in Tanzanian society at large (e.g., Brower, 2010, 2001; Nalkur, 2009; Senkoro, 2006; Topan, 2006; Vuorela, 2009; Wedin, 2010). Some scholars, pointing to the decline in explicit knowledge of such cultural art forms therefore argue for the teaching of riddles in Tanzanian primary and secondary schools (e.g., Ishengoma, 2005). Whereas this is not typical practice in formal schooling, it may therefore be unexpected to find the Swahili-language story being explicitly taught to non-Tanzanian, non-first-language speakers of the language in the university setting. The explicit teaching of oral storytelling in the Dar es Salaam classroom involves guided repetition, similar to the explicit teaching of oral storytelling in Maroua, Cameroon (Moore, 2008, 2006) , as well as directed revoicing and re-telling in both Swahili and English. Altogether, this serves to codify the Swahili-language story into a script with four necessary components: (1) opening call and response, (2) vague time reference to the past (hapo zamani), (3) introduction of the main character through ‘there was/were’ (palikuwa/kulikuwa/walikuwa na), and (4) an 420 accessible moral message or lesson. In this way, other possible variations on the call and response routine, as Senkoro (2006) details, are excluded in favor of ‘Hadithi, hadithi’—‘Hadithi njoo, uwongo njoo, utamu kolea!’—‘Hapo zamani’—‘Alikuwa/Walikuwa’. Thus, the Swahililanguage story is reinvented in its instrumentalization as a social practice in the language classroom; it is a new, explicitly taught script for storytelling within the Swahili cultural sensibility. In the teacher’s performance, it is also possible to see guided repetition successfully codify the Swahili-language story formula, and later encompass a closely directed revoicing of the story exemplar by several students, anchored by post-story activity. Importantly, in Dar es Salaam guided repetition involves the faithful reproduction of the full Swahili-language story formula in its entirety, rather than phrase-by-phrase, as Moore (2006) describes occurring in Maroua with the Fulani-language story. Ranger’s (2008 [1983]; 1993) exploration of the notion of ‘invention’ in the colonial setting is of interest here, because it illustrates how multiple, contemporary innovations in social practice can link to longterm interventions on discourse and practice, impacting ways of knowing and being for entire groups of people. To some degree, the stratified relationship of Swahili (and other East African languages) to English can trace directly back to such invented tradition, to the formal, static placement of German-, then English-language knowledge at the top of the colonial food chain. The strategic employ of Swahili within the colonies certainly played in a role in its spread and social stratification (Fabian, 1986). That being said, the fashioning of hadithi (story) into hadithi ya Kiswahili firmly anchors the newly invented Swahili-language story to the contemporary reality of multilingualism within the Swahili-language classroom, using ethnolinguistic criteria to set the new story apart from others. This effects a codification of the 421 notion of story within the classroom as a culturally embedded practice and morally-driven pedagogical tool. However, even as the telling of stories may be regarded as culturally significant practice in the wider, Swahili-speaking societies of Tanzania’s countryside and island communities (as well as Africa at large), it is giving way to computers and popular music in the urban setting. This decline was lamented by Mwalimu Magdeline during class, and calls into question whether the teaching of storytelling practice is well-suited to equipping learners with the mode of communicative competence valued by mainstream Dar es Salaam speakers, for whom the telling of stories is no longer very relevant. Additionally, the teacher’s characterization of the Swahililanguage story as a Tanzanian cultural practice, varies with the Pan African perspective on Swahili projected at times by the university language program, in addition to other Tanzanians. In other words, at the same time that learners are being informed of the breadth of Swahilispeaking communities throughout East Africa, they are being guided towards a more locallyminded competence in the language. Additionally, intersecting layers of power are reproduced through language use in the Dar es Salaam classroom. The teacher, a Tanzanian insider, is recognized as an expert speaker of Swahili, and she initiates error correction by recasting and revoicing Swahili utterances by students. She also challenges learner representations of the Swahili-language story through (1) direct commentary, (2) withholding words of approval, and (3) using English to more seriously express disapproval; the word ‘Bomba’ (Super) is never used in response to a student’s storytelling performance, though we hear ‘Nzuri’ (Good), and ‘Nzuri sana’ (Very good), and ‘There is something missing’. In asking Bahati to revoice the Cat and Mouse story in English, and then participating in the scaffolding of her English, the teacher is able to assert her own 422 positioning as a competent speaker of English, a point of self-granted prestige and alignment between herself and the similarly proficient Ghanaian students in the class. At the same time, the telling of the Swahili-language story becomes an agentive vehicle for learner-speakers. Scott (1990) discusses public and hidden transcripts of social interaction, referencing the relationships between slave and master, and colonial subject and colonizing settler. While any literal comparison of the student-teacher relationship (in this language classroom) to those above would serve an injustice, what might be understood here is that the experience of the learner of Swahili language in this setting is one dictated by dominant public transcripts in the use of Swahili and English in Dar es Salaam society. The public transcript of Swahili and English use in Dar es Salaam is the stratified relationship between the two, and the default, authoritative position of English in serious academic and political matters. In response, these student outsiders, as agentive learner-speakers, seek to use Swahili whenever possible, and take advantage of any uninterrupted opportunity to use the language at length, such as through the act of story. When Bahati first replies to the teacher’s request to speak English with an appeal of her own, to speak Swahili (lines 142-145 above, afternoon class), she attempts to subvert the teacher’s objective. But the teacher cannot be unshaken from her position that an Englishlanguage re-telling of the Cat and Mouse story is the best method for enhancing comprehension. Even when some learners respond to the teacher’s question of whether or not they speak English by shaking their head (line 161, afternoon class) or only testifying to knowing ‘kidogo’ (a little bit) (lines 157, 163, afternoon class), the teacher appears unconvinced. When the Ghanaian students assert ‘Hawajui. Hawajui. Hawajui’ (line 150) (They don’t know), the teacher responds 423 skeptically with ‘Hawajui au wanaju-a, Kiingereza?’ (They don’t know or they do know, English?) (line 151). The use of Swahili by learners within classroom talk outside of the performance of the Swahili-language story can also be narrowly interpreted as a site of resistance. By this point in the semester, the use of English within the classroom had been firmly established, as the poststory analysis of ‘msamiati mpya’ (line 219, afternoon class), or new vocabulary, demonstrates. The exploration of new vocabulary involves three segments of practice: (1) mention of the unfamiliar Swahili target word (derived from the oral text of the story), (2) supply of the word’s English translation, (3) close of the script with oral approval from the teacher—‘Ndiyo’ (Yes), in most cases. When Bakari offers a Swahili-language 32 definition of the verb ‘Kunenepa’ (lines 247-249, afternoon class) (To become fat) in part two of the vocabulary IRE sequence his definition is recasted to him by the teacher and not accepted; no form of approval is issued. In fact, Bakari’s offering of a logical explanation of Kunenepa as ‘Kuongeza nzito’ (to add/gain weight) does not close the IRE sequence. This is an outcome that might be expected due to the establishment of the IRE in previous turns for the words Kukonda, Panya, and Paka. So why does Bakari insert himself into the dialogue using Swahili voice when it has the potential to be rejected? Perhaps there is a hope that his use of Swahili will turn the tide, or there may be the desire to make himself known through Swahili as a competent speaker of the language. Either !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 32 I use Swahili-language definition here to avoid any confusion of Swahili definition with a definition predicated on ethnic Swahili cultural concepts. The word definitions sourced in this episode of classroom talk are better understood as accessed from the more superficial standpoint of language utility. That is, the class is concerned with the denotation of the word. 424 Chapter 5 Zombies, Vampires, and Swahilistas in Mexico City: The Problem of Performing Language Ideology in African Studies 238 T: capturado, en este caso [.] A ver, ¿ustedes se acuerdan cómo se dice 1 239 ‘bombero’ en swahili? [1.0] 240 Xim2: Lo dice [en el capítulo cuatro creo [.] 241 Ana: 242 Xim: 243 [Era [.] Sí, lo dice en el capítulo [cuatro. [wazimamoto.// T: //¡Wazimamoto! Ya con su nivel de swahili, pues ya saben 244 per—perfectamente cómo se [.] compone, ¿no? [1.0] ((writes on 245 board)) Wazimamoto, ¿no? Entonces, resulta [.] que [.] se pensaba 246 que los bomberos, de:— de sobre todo en la parte de Kenia y 247 Tanzania, se dedicaban en las noches a capturar gente para robarles 248 la sangre. [.] Ese es el principio del problema. Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 238-248 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 1 See Appendix for transcription conventions. 2 For the protection of participants in this study, pseudonyms are used in reference to their identities. In case of some Mexico City participants, Spanish names are used, as Swahili names were not in use in the classroom. Some months into my stay in Mexico City, it was explained to me that though Swahili names were initially used in the first semesters of the MA program (which would have been in the year prior to my arrival), these names had faded from use by the time of my arrival. This means that the Spanish pseudonyms here provide a more accurate portrayal of the classroom environment. These pseudonyms are Ana, Eliza, Jazmín, Luna, Natalia, and Ximena. 425 Introduction My goal in this chapter is to illustrate how the pursuit of language learning within the Mexico City African studies program is both reminiscent of contemporary challenges in area studies-based models of African studies, and related to a postcolonial Latin American reality which continues to view the African continent disparagingly, with the U.S. as a hegemonic power colluded in the perpetuation of this view. In this chapter I present excerpts of classroom discussion on vampires, along with later talk of Swahili-speaking avatars and zombies in the Resident Evil 5 videogame, which stemmed from a discussion of violence in the media following a review of De cómo Europa subdesarolló a África, the Spanish translation of Walter Rodney’s (1982 [1972]) How Europe underdeveloped Africa. Connecting these classroom vignettes to interviews with students and Mexico City residents, and talk from the Swahili-language class, I show how the activity of students as learners of Swahili and apprentices in African studies intersects in their performances within the history course. Arguably, the training of these students as Swahilists manifests in their assessment of language use in Resident Evil 5 as an essentializing characteristic of the staging of an apocalyptic and dangerously corrupted Africa for gamers and zombie enthusiasts. This succeeds in detailing how Swahili maintained a presence in the African history course, and was an irreducible component of the African studies curriculum in Mexico City. It was some six months before I gained entrée into the other courses (besides Swahili) the students were taking as part of their second and final year in the MA Program in African studies. The history class sequentially occurred after the daily language class on alternate days of the week, such that the students met with their history professor twice a week, and their professors of Swahili every weekday morning. One of the content course professors would not allow me to 426 audio-record the class sessions, and that was a request I did not hesitate to comply with. But in the class where I was able to use my audio-recorder in addition to taking field notes, and notes on the course itself, I began to notice how the professor of history would sometimes use Swahili in initial greetings to the students, and appear to deliberately incorporate the language into their exploration of African colonial history. I use the word deliberate here because the instructor had chosen a chapter from the text Speaking with vampires: Rumor and history in colonial Africa, which included a number of Swahili-language terms in its exposition and explanation of the African experience of colonialism in eastern Africa. The reading of this text led the professor to query students’ knowledge of Swahili lexical items included in a particular book chapter, and went on to inspire classroom discussion of contemporary vampires and chupasangre in Tanzania, Mexico, and Cuba. Throughout this chapter, the speech events concerning such lexical items in the demonstration of Standard Swahili competence can be largely characterized as interaction—response—evaluation (IRE) sequences (e.g., Arthur & Martin, 2006; Lightbown & Spada, 2011; Mehan, 1979; Sinclair & Coulthard, 1975). Following Hornberger (1989), these speech events can be schematically represented in the following table (Table 7 below), with reference to the elements of communicative competence that they encompass including abilities to apply linguistic knowledge, interaction skills, and cultural knowledge (Saville-Troike, 2003). These speech events are presented sequentially in this chapter, as part of procedural ethnographic vignettes of classroom activity. In effect, what I began to observe across content and language courses in Mexico City was how the priority of gaining proficiency in Swahili in the African studies program related to a prescribed focus on Kenya and Tanzania as representative examples of African experiences in the development of language and literature, responses to colonialism, and innovations in the 427 Table 7. Sequence of speech events concerning Standard Swahili communicative competence in African history class. Competence Demonstrated by Dimension of Participating Communicative Competence Learners? 30 March 2011 Wazimamoto as colonial firefighters Linguistic knowledge - translation Yes Wachinjaji as Wazimamoto Linguistic knowledge - translation Yes Les simba bulaya on book cover Linguistic knowledge - translation Yes Congolese naïf art on book cover Cultural knowledge Yes Popo Bawa in Tanzania Linguistic knowledge - translation No Cuban fantasmas as Popo Bawa Cultural knowledge Yes Vampiros de la Habana Cultural knowledge Yes Popo Bawa in the library Interaction skills - jocular use of Yes Swahili concept within Spanish frame 11 April 2011 Wako wapi in Resident Evil 5 Linguistic knowledge - translation 428 Yes postcolonial period. Over time, in conversations with students and their professors, I began to realize that some of this practice had to do with the way Africa was constructed within their program, and the ways in which language socialization practices within the learning community supported this construct. In some ways, these connections to the social and academic construction of Africa were drawn for me by students commenting explicitly in the classroom on how they wanted to use Swahili as a vehicle for discussing non-Swahiliphone regions and countries, but were unable to do so due to prescribed boundaries in oral exam topics and in-class activity (see chapters 2 and 3 for more discussion). Professors and program alumni informing me about the history of the African studies program explained how Swahili had been chosen as the representative language of study for Africa as a research area beginning in 1982. They illustrated through their own words how the present-day area studies model of the institution selected representative language(s) for the study of world areas other than North America: Africa, China, Japan, Korea, the Middle East, Southeast Asia. Too, the size of the African studies program dictated that three of the four professors (in addition to a lecturer in language) were instructors of language. The discussion of vampires and zombies in the Mexico City classroom occurred during my second semester at the university, and was preceded some four months by a brief disagreement in the Swahili-language class regarding the study of Swahili in the African studies program. It is with this disagreement between a student and language instructor that this chapter begins, because it illustrates that the focus on Swahili within the program was an existing site of struggle for students. 429 Ethnographic Vignette #1: ‘No Es Solamente Sobre La Lengua’ In my first semester in Mexico City, the Swahili-language class met in a modest room, just big enough for its six students and one of two instructors to sit around a collection of twoperson, white, table-topped desks pushed together in the room’s center like a long conference table. In the second semester, the class was assigned to a room twice as big. Still, the instructor would sit at the helm of the table on the long side, with his back to the whiteboard and projection screen, while the students sat around the remaining sides, some with laptops plugged into outlets along the nearest walls of the room. On occasion, if there was enough room, I joined the students around the table, or I sat in a spare chair in the rear of the room near to an outlet where I could plug in my audio-recorder. During class I was sometimes called upon to read aloud with the students, participate in poetry translations, or fill out cloze worksheets as we listened to song lyrics from the instructor’s personal collection, or online Swahili-language news broadcasts produced by Deutsche Welle and the BBC. When the teacher would collect these worksheets, I would turn mine in along with the others, and later receive my corrected work, with check marks and a corresponding score in red ink, in the days that followed. And so the semester progressed, with the weather getting colder and the classroom chillier indoors as we approached winter in the mile-high city. About two weeks ahead of the upcoming oral exams that would be taking place in mid-November, students were informed by one of their language instructors of the range of acceptable topics they could prepare for the exam. All of these topics (e.g., East African Community—an economic bloc, Tanzanian elections) pertained specifically to Tanzania and Kenya, and this was something that a few of the students openly took issue with, asking if they could prepare to discuss topics related to their interests in other African countries. In that class meeting opinions were heard and responded to 430 by the instructor, but no change was decided upon. The next day, the debate resurfaced at the end of the morning’s Swahili-language class, when a student, Ximena, raised the issue with the other language instructor. I can remember that throughout this exchange, I was careful not to say anything, in order to minimize my potential influence on the conversation (by token of my presence in the room, which I do not believe had an influence on the content of the discussion). Excerpt 1: 2154 Xim: A mí eso me parece hasta un poco irrespetuoso. O sea, somos To me that seems 2155 muchas personas y hay muchos intereses y deberían darle de many 2156 even a little disrespectful. That is, we are people and there are many interests and alguna manera atención a todos esos intereses// somehow/some way attention should be given to all of those interests 2157 T: //Well, yo sé que lo que estamos haciendo es que el curso no es I know that what we are doing 2158 solamente sobre la lengua. [1.0] Es sobre la cultura del África only 2159 is that the course is not about language. It’s about the culture of oriental. [2.0] East Africa. 2160 Entonces es por eso ya [.] todo tiene su enfasiso en [.] So it’s for that [reason] already [.] everyone has their emphasis on [.] 2161 Ana: Del este. [Some aspect] of the east. 431 2162 T: Eso [1.0] lo que va a decir y lo que van a decir los demás That 2163 [is] what s/he’s going to say and what they are going to say the other profesores es que en los otros cursos tiene información sobre [.] professors is that in the other courses [there is] information about 2164 sobre los demás lugares del África. [2.0] Es por eso que estoy about the other places of Africa. 2165 It’s for that [reason] that I am poniendo// putting 2166 Xim: //Entonces esas personas hablan na [.] O sea, ninguno de ellos tiene So 2167 those persons talk and That is, none of them have un continente como objeto de la maestría. Todos ellos tiene un país, [the] continent as [the] object/objective of the MA. All of them have [one] country, 2168 en el mejor de los casos. [4.0] in the best of cases. 2169 T: Well, yo [.] I mean, yo puedo intentar, pero es por eso que estamos I 2170 can try, but it’s for that [reason] that we are poniendo el enfasiso en el África oriental. [2.0] putting 2171 I the emphasis on East Africa. Ana: Lengua y cultura swahili. Swahili language and culture. 2172 T: Sí, sí. [.] No es solamente la lengua. Es todo. Yes, yes. [.] It’s not only language. It’s everything. 432 2173 2174 Ana: Mmhmm. [17.0] Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 4 November 2010, lines 2154-2174 In this segment of talk, Ximena voices an opinion regarding the selection of topics for the upcoming oral exam for the language course. Within Ximena’s statement, the approved topics are setup in opposition to the ‘muchos intereses’ (line 2155 above), or many interests of the students in the program, and it is contended that attention should be given to all of those interests, ‘deberían darle de alguna manera atención a todos esos intereses’ (lines 2155-2156). Then, the teacher’s response to Ximena reveals how the goal of teaching of Swahili language is viewed by program faculty as the teaching of culture as well: ‘…el curso no es solamente sobre la lengua. [1.0] Es sobre la cultura del África oriental’ (lines 2157-2158). This point is somewhat highlighted by Ana’s contributions to the conversation in line 2161, ‘Del este’, and later in line 2171, ‘Lengua y cultural swahili’, after which the teacher expresses agreement with the affirmative sí in line 2172, and recapitulates, saying ‘No es solamente la lengua. Es todo’ (It’s not only language. It’s everything). Besides the teacher’s articulation that the language course es todo, or everything— encompassing both the teaching of language and culture—within the African studies program, another of the greatly crucial revelations that can be culled from this vignette is the difference of opinion between teacher and student on how the continent of Africa is covered or taught within other courses of the program. After establishing that the purpose of the language course is to teach both Swahili language and culture with a focus on East Africa, the teacher essentially directs Ximena to look to other courses as opportunities to animate interests about other African countries. The teacher argues that this is the same position that the other faculty will take, which 433 justifies a deliberate emphasis on East Africa within the language course (lines 2162-2165 above). The teacher’s argument also situates the activity of the language course within the larger scheme of the African studies program, making the other courses of the program relevant to the discussion. But Ximena does not see eye to eye with this perspective, and in line 2166 latches onto the teacher’s statement, effectively cutting it off. This next utterance continues in the spirit of Ximena’s previous declaration that the orientation of the program seems ‘hasta un poco irrespetuoso’ (line 2154) (even a little disrespectful), now referring to professors in an indirect manner as those persons that talk, ‘esas personas que hablan’ (line 2166), and further distinguishing the professors as a bloc distinct from the students. In fact, Ximena’s stance shows no alignment with that of the language instructor, who has allied with the professors. Instead, the problem in Ximena’s view is that none of the professors teach with the whole African continent in mind, and this diverges from the presumed goal of the MA program. As Ximena states, ‘O sea, ninguno de ellos tiene un continente como objeto de la maestría’ (lines 2166-2167) (That is, none of them have [the] continent as [the] object of the Master’s). Ultimately, the student perspective does not appear to sway the language instructor’s fundamental viewpoint; even though there is a fairly lengthy pause before the instructor responds in lines 2169 and 2170, his response reiterates that the focus of the language course is on East Africa. The end of the conversation is signaled by a lengthy pause of about 17 seconds (line 2174), during which everyone exits the classroom, and after which I can be heard verifying with the instructor the date and time of our scheduled interview. The long pause illustrates that after the instructor’s final statement, ‘Sí, sí. [.] No es solamente la lengua. Es todo’ (line 2172), and Ana’s ‘Mmhmm’ (line 2173), there was no further rejoinder from Ximena, effectively terminating the conversation. Along with this, it can be noted that Ximena’s use of na (line 2166 434 above), the Swahili-language equivalent of and, by, or with (also possibly a present tense marker), surfaces as a sort of discourse marker amid Spanish-language speech, signifying a high level of absorption of Swahili, potentially to an unconscious degree. Thus, even while arguing in Spanish against the program’s narrowing of the study of Africa as a consequence of prescribed Swahili-language study and a related focus on East Africa, Ximena produces a Swahili word. The Language-Classroom Discussion Continues: ‘África No Es Un País’ That Swahili-language class was on Thursday, November 4, and with no class on Fridays, the next time the class met was on the following Monday, November 8. In this next language class, discussion of the oral exam continued, with students stating their case in more detail. All of this discussion largely occurred in Spanish, with the teacher invoking French in one instance, and later Swahili in statements directed towards me as the conversation concluded, giving way to the day’s lesson. It should be noted that the teacher’s continued use of Spanish may be a move towards solidarity with the students who began in the class by expressing their opinions in Spanish. It was not a typical for students to express opinions in Spanish. By this same token, the teacher’s use of Spanish appears to validate the students’ use of Spanish within this Swahililanguage class, and this is notable because on other occasions (on different days) in this class, I observed how this teacher’s switching from Spanish to Swahili encouraged the students to switch into Swahili to express their opinions or tell brief, personal anecdotes. In a key moment in the discussion, one student commented specifically on the type of Swahili that the oral exams required of them, saying in class that day: ‘[…] pero el tipo de swahili que ustedes están o que al menos yo me he dado cuenta, que se está alentando a que aprendamos, con estas preguntas que nos están haciendo para 435 hacer un exámen de swahili mm:: [.] yo no veo en qué manera ayudan a que las personas se expresen, o piensen o puedan concretar ideas fluidamente en swahili. Yo siempre, inclusive, trato en todas estas pruebas a leer en swahili, de no venir con papeles, de no hacer preguntas por adelantado, si no de venir y tratar de crear una expression en el momento en que estoy hablando con ustedes. Pero es que con preguntas tan cerradas como estas, la única posibilidad que queda es ir, hacer un párrafo, aprenderse ese párrafo 3 y venir y declamar un párrafo. Pero eso no es hablar swahili, ---- , y tú lo sabes. O sea, el hecho de que yo me ponga a dar una opinión erudita sobre el mercado común del África del este, o el SIDA y la pobreza o cosas así [.] Sí, quizás sean temas que se toquen en la vida diaria de los swahili parlantes, pero la lengua que las personas hablan no es la lengua que está escrita en un ensayo que se publica en JSTOR.’ (Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 8 November 2010, lines 413-429) […] but the type of Swahili that you all are or that at least I’ve realized, that we’re being encouraged to learn, with these questions that we’re doing for the Swahili exam mm:: [.] I don’t see in which way they help persons [to] express themselves, or think or enable [them] to summarize ideas fluently in Swahili. I always, including [myself], try in all these tests of reading in Swahili, [to] not come with papers, [to] not make/do/create questions beforehand, but come and try [to] create an expression at the moment in which I’m speaking with you all. But it’s that with questions so closed as these, the only possibility that remains is going to, to make a paragraph, learning/rehearsing that paragraph and come and recite a paragraph. But that is not speaking Swahili, ----, and !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 3 Some identifying information elided from this statement. 436 you know it. That is, the fact that I’m put/made to give a scholarly opinion about the common market of East Africa [East African Community], or AIDS and poverty or things like that [.]Yes, maybe/perhaps they are issues/subjects that touch upon the daily life of Swahili speakers, but the language that people speak is not the language that is written in an essay that is published in JSTOR. This statement from the classroom reveals that students are well aware that the Swahili they are focusing upon in class, the ‘tipo de swahili’ (type of Swahili) encompasses both the academic and Standard varieties, hence the references this student makes to JSTOR, the online, international database of periodicals and academic journals. Furthermore, within these comments the oral exam is described as a particularly limiting format because it is ‘tan cerrada’ (so closed) and encourages students to memorize prepared statements on specified topics. It may also be interepreted from these remarks that the student is expressing an interest in learning a more colloquial variety, or potentially a different register of Swahili, because to produce ‘una opinion erudita’ (a scholarly opinion) is not the same as how ‘los swahili parlantes’ (Swahili speakers) express themselves in daily practice. In this sense, the Swahili-language classroom is a site of struggle because its exclusive orientation toward Standard Swahili is not in full alignment with the interests of learners. As the discussion continues, the teacher openly encourages the students to voice their opinions so that they may be heard, and their perspectives understood. This statement from the teacher in lines 550-555, partly in Spanish, and partly in French, further validates the discussion. Later on, the teacher offers his own opinion on the matter, and sometime thereafter a student uses French to make a sort of joke about the termination of the discussion. 437 Excerpt 2: 550 T: Bueno, entonces yo les voy a pedir lo siguiente. Primero hay que [.] Okay/well, so/then I’m going to ask of you all the following. First there is that 551 cuando sale es una opinión aquí, una propuesta que haya [.] porque when it comes out it’s an opinion here, a proposal that has [.] because 552 sale a veces propuestas que si, no sé, dos o una persona lo dice y los it comes out sometimes proposals that if, I don’t know, two or one person says it and the 553 demás se quedan así callados yo lo doy, ya por hecho. Y lo llevo así others they remain like that quiet I [take it for fact]. And I take it like that 554 y digo, bueno si no opinaron nada o no dijeron nada digamos que and I say, well/okay if they didn’t express any opinion or they didn’t [say] anything let’s say that 555 como dicen en francés, ‘Lui qui ne dit rien, consent’. Concienten. as/like they say in French, ‘He who only says nothing, agrees. They consent. 556 Xim: [Aha. 557 [Voilá! Ana: There it is! Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 8 November 2010, lines 550-557 438 The use of untranslated French here by the teacher, as well as the student responses to this use, underscores the multilingual reality of this classroom community, and is taken as inviting comments from a wider range of students, as can be later observed. First, however, the teacher makes another entry into the discussion, this time making his opinion known regarding the issue of there being a substantial focus within the African studies program on Swahili. As the language instructor sees it, the study of Swahili opportunes an entry into a wider world of African languages, traditions, and customs, that otherwise (without study of an African language) would not be visible or perceptible to the students. These comments touch upon the Pan African potential of Swahili, as well as highlight the cultural unity of Africa, across the teacher’s observations of cultural practices common to Nigeria, South Africa, Zimbabwe, and Angola. Yo—yo pienso que sí, e: [.] eso da cabida en algo. Primero, hay una siempre lo—lo, se lo he dicho. Una:, una unidad ¿no? comprobada así lingüística y hasta diria culturalmente, en el [.] en las lenguas, en muchas lenguas de—del habla de la, digamos del grupo bantú, entonces a—a—aprender el swahili es a la vez entrar en todo ese mundo, y yo trato siempre también de mencionarles algunas tradiciones que, me: me acuerde, cuando estamos viendo algo. Si se relaciona con la que me acuerdo que es algo tradicional, es algo cultural de allá o de costumbres, lo—lo digo y eso es muy importante porque, o sea 4 yo he, eso me consta por:que cuando me he encontrado con ---- africanos sobre todo afuera ya de África, ah, platicando, nos damos cuenta que sí, algunas cosas tradiciones, costumbres, se enteran, son parecidas, son las mismas casi [.] Que sean de Nigeria, que sean de Sudáfrica, que sean de Zimbabwe o de Angola, dicen, ‘¿Ah también ustedes !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 4 Some identifying information elided from this statement. 439 5 hacen eso? Sí ---- .’ Y ahí, yo, esto pues me consta a mí que ah, ah aprendiendo el idioma swahili, de una forma u otra, uno está entrando en todo ese mundo. ¿No? Bueno. (Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 8 November 2010, lines 589-605) I—I think that yes, u:h [.] that [makes room for something]. First, there is that always it—it, it’s what I’ve said. A, a unity, you know? proven as such [that is] linguistic and even I would say culturally, in the [.] in the languages, in many language of—of speaking of the, let’s say of the Bantu group, so/then to—to—to learn Swahili is at once to enter in all [of] that world, and I try always also [to] mention to you all some traditions that, remind me, when we’re seeing/looking at something. If it’s related [to] what I remember that is something traditional, it’s something cultural from [over] there [in Africa] or of customs, I say it and that it’s very important because, that is I have, that I know because when I have found myself with ---- Africans especially [those] outside of Africa, ah, chatting, we realize that yes, some things traditions, customs, [with which they’re acquainted], are similar, they’re almost the same [.] That could be of Nigeria, that could be of South Africa, that could be of Zimbabwe or of Angola, they say, ‘Ah, you all do those too? Yes ----.’ And there, I this well I know that to me that ah, ah learning the Swahili language, of one form or another, one is entering into that world. Right? Okay/good. Within the language instructor’s view, the study of Swahili itself is not a problem. Rather, it is exciting and useful because it gives entry into a wider perspective on Africa, and allows the !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 5 See note above. 440 speaker to take note of the continuity in linguistic and cultural terms, though this is not limited to the Bantu languages and the countries in which they are spoken. Not long after having made this point on Swahili as a window into the cultural continuity of Africa, the teacher continued on, stressing that one of the central challenges within the African studies program was that there was only one language available for study. To underscore this assertion, the teacher declares, ‘África no es un país’ (line 621 below) (Africa is not a country), as opposed to China, which itself comprises an entire research area and appropriately mandates only one major language, Chinese, for study. Excerpt 3: 613 T: Ese: es mi opinión y que: lo que les prometería yo para entrar That is my opnion and that what I would promise you all I in order to enter 614 en [.] pero sí yo voy a tomar, este: en cuenta, e: eso de, de tratar de into but yes I’m going to [keep this] u:h [in mind], u:h that [to, to] try [to] 615 vincular también el swahili con otras [.] bueno de, lo que se pueda pues, link 616 also Swahili with other well with/of, what it can [be] well, con otras regiones de—de sus intereses. Porque esa es nuestra [.] with other regions of—of your interests. Because that is our 617 digamos nuestro e:: debilidad del programa, let’s say our u::h weakness of the program, 618 Ana: Mmhmm. 441 619 T: porque bueno es programa de África. because well it’s [a] program of/about Africa. 620 Ana: Mmhmm. 621 T: Pero [África no es un país. But Africa is not a country. 622 Lun: [Pero no sólo de África del este. But not just/only of East Africa. 623 T: Es un programa de África. Bueno, ¡No::! Tampoco tan así porque sí yo— It’s a program of/about Africa. Okay. No! Neither so much [that way] because yes I— 624 yo creo que en historia y en otras—en otros cursos como no sé, mitio— I think that in History and in others—in other courses like I don’t know, myth— 625 mitología, pensamiento, ven también otras partes y las ven, no, no se Mythology, [Philosophy], you all see also other parts and you see them, no, no they 626 quedan nada más con África del este y África central. Entonces, e: ese remain nothing more [on] East Africa and Central Africa. So/then, u:h that 627 es según yo, nuestro, punto débil, que es el swahili nada más que is according [to] me, our, weak point, which is [that] 442 628 tenemos para todo un continente. No es como China. E: los—los [de we have nothing more than Swahili for all [of] a continent. It’s not like China. U:h the—the of 629 Jaz: [Que es un país. Which is a country. 630 T: China tienen ya chino y ya. China they have [just] Chinese and [that’s it]. 631 Ana: Mmhmm. Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 8 November 2010, lines 613-631 Of particular interest in this segment of talk is the way in which the teacher characterizes the African studies program as having a weakness, a ‘debilidad’ (line 617 above) (weakness), which relates to the study of Swahili within the program, but for which the study of Swahili is not the cause. In other words, it is a positive that Swahili is offered in the program, but it is not enough to represent the continent with one language. Instead, the root of the problem seems to be that the study of Africa is approached as a singular, regional area of study, which inherently overshadows the diversity and variation of the continent. In saying this, the teacher appears to acknowledge in line 216 previous student comments on how other required courses within the curriculum, including History, Mythology, and Philosophy (lines 624-625), are within the students’ view, focused upon East Africa and Central Africa. The program’s oversight or inability to cover other sectors of the African continent thus persists as ‘nuestro, punto débil’ (line 627) (our, weak point/spot), because Swahili is in reality not a language widely spoken in every African country. These remarks are overlapped by Luna’s comment in line 622, where it is argued that neither should the African studies program be focused solely on Africa’s eastern 443 sector. In fact, Luna’s statement, ‘Pero no solo de África del este’ (line 622), is at the crux of the student critique of the program’s emphasis on Swahili (or, conversely, East Africa). As far as the teacher’s perspective, however, this would all seem to say that, while the choice of Swahili in the program produces benefits for students in the way of producing a more transregional awareness of Africa, it presents a challenge because it is not the only major language spoken across Africa’s many countries. The other major component of the argument upon which the teacher and students appear to agree is that the African studies program is the underdog at the university. Its very design as a regional areas studies program with an entire continent as its objective, as opposed to a country, like the other programs (of Indian/Southeast Asian studies or Japanese studies), creates a situation where it is diffieult to satisfy all of the variable student research interests in countries across the continent. This is enumerated by the teacher in the continuation of the discussion, where it is revealed that there are some ‘autoridades’ (line 640 below) (authorities) at the university who still question the basis for studying Africa at all. Excerpt 4: 632 T: Entonces le entran bueno, los de India, Japón por ejemplo, un país así So/then they [come in] well/okay, those of India, Japan for example, a country 633 de chiquito y es toda un área y, entienden japonés y ya. Entonces le tiny like that and it’s [all of it] an area and, they understand Japanese and [that’s it]. So/then 444 634 entran y cada uno de los integrantes de la maestría están estudiando they [come in] and each one of the entrants/members of the Master’s they’re studying 635 Japón, ¿no? Pero África [.] es así. Y: es el único lugar a nivel Japan, right? But Africa 636 it’s like this. And it’s the only place [within] latinoamericano que tenemos para hacer y con una sola lengua. Y [Latin America] that we have 637 and with only one language. And ustedes tienen que tener eso en cuenta porque aparte de, de, de toda la you all have to have that [in mind] because apart from, from, from all the 638 debilidad que tenemos como área, pues también igual a nivel weakness that we have as [an] area, well also equally at [the] 639 6 institucional el ---- , pues África es el ((casual voice)) ‘que bue:no, institutional level ----, well Africa is the 640 África’. ((normal voice)) Hay todavía autoridades, algunos que piensan Africa’. 641 ‘how grea:t, There are still authorities, some that think ‘¿Por qué estudiar África?’ ‘Why study Africa?’ 642 Ana: ((quiet laugh)) 643 T: Aquí en el ----7. Here in !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 6 Some identifying information elided from this transcript. Specifically, the name of the university is mentioned. 7 See note above. 445 644 S: ¿Mm? 645 T: ‘¿Por qué estudiar África?’ ¿No? Para que vean. Entonces olvídense de ‘Why study Africa? 646 pensar [.] a mí me gustaría por ejemplo de tener una o otras lenguas. thinking I would like 647 Right? So that they see. So/then forget about for example [to] have one or [more] languages. Como por ejemplo de África occidental que es una parte, muchos que Like for example from/of West Africa which is a part/region, many [students] who 648 han pasado aquí también—han trabajan ¿no? o trabajaron esa parte: have passed [through] here too—they have worked [researched] right? or worked [on] that part/region 649 África occidental, ¿no? O Senegal o este:, Costa de Marfil o Ghana o:: West Africa, right? 650 Or Senegal or u:h, Ivory Coast, or Ghana or Nigeria. Esa parte. África del sur que es un pa—una región muy Nigeria. That part/region. Africa of the south which is a coun—a region very 651 importante. De hecho, a nivel africano es un—una región muy muy important. In fact, at [the] African level/standard it’s a—a region very very 652 importante, es la [.] donde está la—la:: la mayor, digamos el mayor nivel important, it’s the where it’s the—the the greatest, let’s say the greatest level 446 653 de desarrollo en África, pero no tenemos para una lengua así de of development in Africa, but we don’t have [not even] one [like that as a] 654 representante, o representativa digamos, de esa región. representative language, or representative let’s say, of that region. Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 8 November 2010, lines 632-654 This portion of the discussion illustrates how the study of Africa is continually challenged within the university, just as it is undermined by a Mexican populace that finds little value in Africa as a whole (see chapter 2 for more detailed discussion). To make this point, the teacher animates the voice of one of the institutional authorities he has encountered, employing an exceptionally casual tone to illustrate the disregard this conjured person has for Africa, ‘“que bue:no, África”’ (lines 639-640 above) (“how grea:t, Africa”). These same authorities are said to think, or wonder, ‘“Por qué estudiar África?”’ (lines 641, 645) (“Why study Africa?”) This characterizes the position of the class, and of the program, somewhat tenuous, as the only African studies program of its caliber within Latin America, with only one African language offered (‘el único lugar a nivel latinoamericano que tenemos para hacer y con una sola lengua’, lines 635-636). Ana’s quiet, brief laughter in response to the teacher’s observance of others’ questioning of the program’s existence potentially illustrates how unsettling it is to hear these words (“¿Por qué estudiar África?”) as a student within the program. As the language instructor goes on to say, it would be great if there were more languages, but the bigger point is that there is an African studies program at all, so that the haters or detractors may see why it is necessary to study Africa, ‘Para que vean’ (line 645 above) (So that they may see). The instructor would be happy even with just one more additional language, to represent another key region of the African continent, such as West Africa or southern Africa, in 447 particular. In this, there seems to be some agreement with the student position that the program is somewhat lacking when it comes to African-language offerings. Still, the point that one particular student, Ximena, endeavors to stress is that the program’s emphasis on Swahili and its corresponding focus on East Africa is what constitutes the major contention. To this end, Ximena states that the problem is not that a language must be studied within the program. Excerpt 5: 675 Xim: pero el problema no es que se estudie una lengua. El problema es but the problem is not that a language is studied. The problem is 676 justamente cómo, cómo se enfoca el estudio de esa lengua. Es a eso a solely/just how, how the study of that language is framed. It’s that to 677 lo que yo me refiero. [2.0] Y lo otro, o sea, el swahili igual se habla en which I refer. And [the] other thing, that is, Swahili is similarly spoken in 8 678 ---- , y te digo o sea [.] ----, and I[tell] you that is [.] 679 T: Eso es lo que te [iba a decir de hecho. A veces me extraña e:: escuchar— That’s what I was going to say in fact. Sometimes it makes me wonder u::h to hear— 680 Xim: [ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 8 Some identifying information elided from this transcript. Specifically, the name of an African country where Swahili is spoken, other than Kenya or Tanzania. 448 681 T: escucharte decir ‘Ah es que, bueno, para mí el swahili’ [.] bueno, tú no to hear you say ‘Ah it’s that, well, for me Swahili’ Okay/well, you don’t 682 dices [.] dices más que, se enfoca más en el área, [el área [.] el área que say you say more that, it’s focused more on the area, the area [.] the area that 683 Xim: [Ah, no. Yo no he Ah, no. I haven’t 684 T [investigas. El área que: investigas you research. The are that you research 685 Xim: [dicho que no me vaya a servir. Lo que he dicho que no me sirve lo que said that it wasn’t going to [benefit] me. What I’ve said [is] that it’s not benefiting me what 686 me están dando. Es decir porque estoy aprendiendo o sea cosas en they’re giving me. It’s to say because I’m learning that is things in 687 swahili sobre los lugares donde supuestamente se habla swahili, pero Swahili about places 688 where supposedly Swahili is spoken, but 9 es que en ---- igual se habla swahili y a mí nunca, o sea, yo nunca it’s that in ---- Swahili is spoken [just the same] and to me never, that is, I never !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 9 See note above. 449 689 he visto nada aquí, donde yo pueda ver ese swahili empleado en have seen anything here, where I can see that [aforementioned] Swahili employed in 10 690 ---- . Y:, y te digo, te estoy hablando ahora mismo sólo a título ----. And, I [tell] you, I’m talking to you right now only [in a] 691 personal. Pero yo no soy la única persona aquí. [4.0] personal capacity/basis. But I’m not the only person here. 692 T Bueno. Jamie, ¿me estás siguie[ndo? Okay/well. Jamie, are you following me? 693 Ana: [Finalement? ((la[ughs)) Finally [Is it over]? 694 Ss: 695 T: 696 [((laugh[s)) [¿Me estás siguiendo? Are you following me? 697 J: ((laughs)) Yea[h! 698 T: [Unafuata? [No tienes [.] Are you following?/Do you follow? 699 J: [Nafuat[a. ((laughing)) I am following/I follow. 700 T: [¿No tienes? [.] Una maoni:? No// Don’t you have? [.] Do you have !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 10 See note above. 450 [.] [an] opinion? No 701 S: //((to teacher)) 702 T: ((to unknown student)) No. 703 J: ((to teacher)) Sina.// I don’t have [one]/I have none. 704 T: //La grabadora sigue [.] [grabando. The recorder continues [it’s still] [.] recording. 705 Ss: [((laughs)) ((lau[ghs)) 706 T: [¿Sí? Yes? 707 J: ((laughs)) Ndiyo. Yes. 708 T: Bueno, entonces, e:: después de todo esto tenía: alguna propuesta. Una Okay/well, so/then, u::h after all this I would have some proposal. A 709 propuesta era, dejar, primero e:: [.] dejar el tema libre para la, e:: el kazi proposal was, to leave, first u::h to leave the subject free for the, u::h the 710 ya kuandika y del tema libre, de ese tema libre de claro no que, nadie [.] written work and of the free subject, of that free subject of, of course not that, no one [.] 711 e: sabe ahorita sino ustedes excepto ustedes, que se, que lo hiciéramos u:h knows right now but you all except you all, that, that we would do/make it 451 712 también como, e:: como:: examen oral. O sea, en la plática, [si llega, also like/as, u::h like/as [the] oral exam. That is, in the talk/chat, if it arrives/reaches 713 Ana: [¡Ah! Eso sí Ah! That yes 714 puede ser. can 715 be. T: sería como ya adelantar de una forma lo que van a escribir. it would be like/as advancing a form [of] what you all are going to write. Mexico City, Swahili-language class, 8 November 2010, lines 675-715 Within Ximena’s view, at issue is the way the program has designed the study of Swahili to focus so narrowly on Kenya and Tanzania. Though the names of these two countries are not expressly mentioned, the fact that another country is named as not figuring into the language study makes this discernible. As it is, the construction of Ximena’s argument sets ‘se estudie’ (line 675 above) (it is studied) in opposition to ‘se enfoca’ (line 676) (it is framed/focused upon). In answer to this, the language instructor responds by pointing out how it is a bother to continually hear Ximena (in particular) say how the program should focus more on her individual research area of study. The instructor’s response is regarded by Ximena as a misunderstanding of her original argument, that the study of Swahili within the program could be made more encompassing if it presented other locations beyond Kenya and Tanzania where Swahili is spoken on the African continent. Ximena recognizes this observation to be reflective of a particular, personal interest, as in a ‘título personal’ (lines 690-691) (personal 452 capacity/basis), but insists that ‘yo no soy la única persona aquí’ (line 691) (I’m not the only person here [of this opinion]). Within this sequence of talk it can therefore be observed how Ximena is in the (perhaps, self-appointed) position of speaking on behalf of other students, and performing as a fairly insistent advocate for the student position, as demonstrated in her overlapping talk with that of the instructor (lines 679-685). At the next stage of the interaction, the teacher signals that the discussion has come to an end with his final ‘Bueno’ (line 692 above) (Okay/well), and question directed toward me. The teacher addresses me explicitly by name, as a preface to the query of whether I am following the discussion, ‘¿me estás siguiendo?’ (line 692), Are you following me? Though I eventually respond in the affirmative, there is a lag, or rather, there is overlapping talk from Ana, asking somewhat comically in French as to whether the discussion is over, accompanied by laughter. Ana’s use of French in rising intonation, as in ‘Finalement?’ (line 693) (Finally/Is is over?) may be interpreted as a sort of playfully dramatic interjection, particularly as it is executed in a language heretofore unused, except in the adage mentioned by the teacher earlier on and in the Voilá! Ana then responded with. At any rate, the laughter that follows Finalement?, firstly Ana’s own, and then of the other students, serves to validate her use of the French, and lay witness to the somewhat awkward or perhaps unanticipated finish to the previous debate. Then, intersecting with this laughter, comes the teacher’s repeat of Are you following me? (line 696), to which I lightheartedly reply, ‘¡Yeah!’ (line 697). Probably because of my laughter along with the students, my reply appears a bit too late for the teacher, because another iteration of Are you following me? is issued in line 698, but this time in Swahili as ‘Unafuata?’ (Are you following?/Do you follow?). The whole situation is, by this point, relatively comical to me, given 453 all of the students laughing, the awkward finale to the previous debate, and the sudden questions directed my way. In essence, through the asking of Unafuata? (line 698 above) the teacher is asking me to demonstrate my own communicative competence in both Spanish and Swahili. My answer in the affirmative, in Swahili, with ‘Nafuata’ (line 699) (I’m following) serves to illustrate that I have been able to follow the previous dialogue, which took place largely in Spanish, in addition to understanding how to appropriately respond to the teacher’s Swahili, displaying my own interaction skills in Swahili. At the same time, the teacher’s switch to Swahili in speaking with me, may be also interpreted as a move towards solidarity with me, as a break from the Spanishframed contact that this teacher established with the students earlier on. Next, the teacher presses me for an opinion on the issue of the previous discussion, but I am hesitant to offer any opinion—it was only my third month in the Mexico City classroom, and I did not want to risk infringing upon anyone else’s perspective! ‘¿No tienes?’ (line 700), questions the teacher, essentially saying Don’t you have [anything to say]?. And then in Swahili, ‘Una maoni:?’ (line 700), Do you have [an] opinion?, to which I answer ‘Sina’ (line 703), I don’t have [one] or I have none. In the final stage of the interaction, the teacher continues to direct his statements toward me, taking notice, somewhat self-consciously, of the audio-recorder I had setup in the room, as it was sitting on the floor near the wall outlet I had earlier plugged it into. The teacher’s observation, ‘La grabadora sigue [.] grabando’ (line 704 above) (the recorder continues [is still] recording), is taken by everyone as funny, likely in association with the tension of the previous discussion. When the teacher follows this statement up with ‘¿Sí?’ (line 706) (Yes?) amid the laughter, I find myself still laughing as I confirm his observation in Swahili, ‘Ndiyo’ (line 707) 454 (Yes). In retrospect, this segment of talk does well to illustrate how in these moments I was noticed as an actor in the classroom, how I took part in laughter, was asked to participate, and was reluctant (on some occasions) to offer my opinion. It also shows that even as members of the classroom were cognizant that audio recordings were being made, they appeared to express their views in full, and on this rare occasion when attention was called to the presence of the audiorecorder, it provided a sense of comic relief. As this segment of talk concludes, the teacher goes on to state that in consideration of the previous discussion (perhaps including that of the previous class periods), that the specific subject of the ‘kazi ya kuandika’ (lines 709-710), the written portion of the exam, as it was termed, will be left open or ‘libre’ (line 710) for the students to choose for themselves. This written work will serve as a way of preparing for the topic of the individual oral exams, which is to correspondingly be of a topic of each student’s choosing, and this seems to satisfy those in the room, particularly Ana (line 713). Some Concluding Thoughts on the Language-Classroom Discussion In its totality, this ethnographic vignette, drawing upon the happenings of two separate meetings of the Swahili-language class, illustrates how both students and their language instructors are cognizant of the focus on East Africa and ‘lengua y cultura swahili’ (line 2171 above) within both the language classroom and the larger African studies program. For students with research interests in non-Swahiliphone African countries, this presents a source of conflict, and characterizes the language classroom as a particular site of struggle in the assertion of academic identity, and linguistic self-representation. As the exchange from the 4th of November shows, Ximena has a strong interest in learning about Africa, and problematizes the prescribed 455 study of Swahili where it appears to disregard interests outside of East Africa. This debate, as further explored in the subsequent Swahili-language class, relates to the idea of Swahili as a Pan African language as opposed to a local (East African) language. In this same segment of talk, it was also shown how the language instructors invoked a description of the activity of other professors in the program and their content courses to situate the activity of the Swahili-language classroom. Even while it is acknowledged that the study of Swahili brings benefits to students of African studies, enabling the observation and appreciation of transregional continuities in languages and cultures across Africa, there is a conflict between the projection of that view, and the defense of the African continent as a compellingly vast and highly differentiated geography of languages, cultures, countries, and peoples. In the next sections of this chapter, I take my cue from these instructors and look to the activity of the course in African history for insights on how the study of Swahili is implicated in the training of students as Africanists. First, however, I provide a further sketch of how Swahili is conceived by the program faculty at the university. This leads into subsequent sections of the chapter that detail the discussion of vampires and zombies in the African history course, and describe how these speech events provide evidence of the linguistic training of students in the program, as well as a focus on East Africa. Africanists and Swahilists in Mexico City In my interview with Professor #1, who was also the instructor of the African history course that I highlight in this chapter, the professor shared thoughts on the importance of learning Swahili within the program. Not only was gaining strong competence in the language a crucial requirement of the degree program, but it was central to a student’s training as an 456 Africanist, a word Professor #1 used to describe their academic role as researcher and knowledge producer. And I belong to an Africanist tradition, that I, I think that to be a very good Africanist you must learn, or to get a good knowledge of a [African] language. (Mexico City, Interview with Professor #1, 13 October 2010, lines 896-898) In this above comment, there is a frankness in the professor’s use of ‘I’ in reference to the self as an Africanist, effectively taking ownership of a role within ‘an Africanist tradition’, and through this comment performing a role of responsibility within the tradition to render judgment on what is ‘very good’. In this view, there is a positive value attached to knowledge of an African language within the profession and practice of African studies. More than positive, it is fundamental to the identity of a ‘very good Africanist’. Notably here, the professor did not mention any alternative to being a ‘very good Africanist’; a researcher entering an African context, an African country, such as Ghana, with knowledge of only an ex-colonial language was a poor researcher, and not a ‘very good Africanist’. Excerpt 6: 896 P1: And I belong to an Africanist tradition that I, I think that to be a very 897 good Africanist you must learn, or to get a good knowledge of a 898 language. [.] And in Europe I met many people who didn’t know any 899 of them. Okay, what justify? ‘Okay, I working u:h, le::, u:::h 900 criminalization in colonial Ghana, so I have to work only with the uh, 901 documents in English. I don’t have to learn any local language.’ It’s a 902 lie to me. 903 J: Hm. 457 904 P1: ‘I’m working about the presence of colonial administration in 905 Kenya, 906 J: Mmhmm.// 907 P1: //I work with the, with the, with the::: files of the British government, 908 909 with the historical archives, that’s all.’ J: Hm. 910 P1: ‘I don’t need to—need Kikuyu, or Kamba, or the Swahili.’ 911 J: Hm. 912 P1: But I think if you want to l:: know more, about African society, it is very 913 useful to know an African language. In general. Mexico City, Interview with Professor #1, 13 October 2010, lines 896-913 There was no middle ground in these remarks, demonstrating how integral the practice of language learning was in this educational setting in Mexico City. According to Professor #1, calling oneself an Africanist, without possession of African-language knowledge is a linked to a faulty premise: ‘It’s a lie to me’ (lines 901-902 above). In this view, there is too much to be missed without the knowledge of ‘any local language’ (line 901), too much to be overlooked or neglected about ‘African society’ (line 912). To make this point, the professor animates an imaginary pseudo-Africanist beginning in line 899, rationalizing a lack of knowledge of an African language by referencing a research focus on colonial ‘documents in English’ (line 901). Thereafter, the professor returns to their own voice to speak from their own position, in order to comment negatively on the stance of the erroneous researcher who says ‘I don’t have to learn any local language’ (line 901), and later, ‘I don’t need to—need Kikuyu, or Kamba, or the Swahili’ (line 910). Although the professor’s voice quality doesn’t modulate to depict the 458 pseudo-Africanist with an affected tone, it is clear that these comments are in reference to another someone, because this professor does not actually work on colonial Ghana or Kenya in their own research. It is also being said here that knowledge of an African language renders ‘useful’ (line 913), ‘general’ (line 913) information about ‘African society’ (line 912). In this sense it would appear that the knowledge of any African language would offer this same general insight about local societies, and that the language knowledge is itself almost as important as what the investment in learning it acknowledges about the importance of African languages to the practice of research and knowledge production on Africa. 11 When it comes to the current students in the program, and their training in the study of Africa, the professor acknowledges that the study of Swahili is integral, though a challenge for some of them. The experience of some of these students differs from the professor’s own past experience of acquiring Swahili as a student some years ago. Excerpt 7: 291 P1: Well, but the point is that in my case, Swahili was attractive t—to me, 292 293 as a student. J: Okay. 294 P1: What’s the problem here? And you must noti(c)ed since the 295 beginning, 296 J: Mmhmm. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 11 In a way, the professor’s point gets borne out in my writing of this study. I would wholeheartedly agree that there is so much I would have missed out on, including opportunities to talk with locals in Mexico (and Tanzania) had I been unable or unwilling to engage in Spanish or Swahili. 459 297 P1: the problem. It’s that [.] not all the students who choose to study 298 Africa are aware or conscious of that. Or, opposite to my case, some 299 students arrived here with a previous interest and work in areas 300 differe[nt to East Africa. 301 J: [O::kay. 302 P1: So, unfortunately, and I must say, for some students, the Swahili 303 304 course is a [.] we—a lot a har—a heavy weight to ca[rry. J: [Okay. 305 P1: Not a subject to enjoy. 306 J: Mmhmm. 307 S: And sometimes, there are some disparities u::h, among the students. 308 P1: Okay.// 309 S: //And actually, this generation of students, and probably you already 310 know,// 311 J: //Mmhmm.// 312 P1: //that’s exact(ly) the problem. Exact(ly) the problem. Actually, from the 313 six students, when they arrived here, no one was interested in East 314 Africa.// 315 J: //Hm:[: 316 P1: [Now, there’s a ---- 12 [.] !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 12 Some identifying information elided from this transcript. 460 317 J: Mmhmm.// 318 P1: //when coming here, suddenly change from Senegal to:: Tanzania. Mexico City, Interview with Professor #1, 13 October 2010, lines 291-318 In this segment of our interview, I was careful to keep my responses to a minimum, in order not to redirect or influence the professor’s remarks by inserting my own observations or judgments. This resulted in the professor commenting on their own past experiences as well as those of the current students in the program. In these comments, there is description of a ‘problem’ (line 294 above) within the program, in which some of the students ‘arrived here with a previous interest and work in areas different to East Africa’ (line 299). It is next acknowledged that this leads to a situation where ‘unfortunately […] for some students, the Swahili course is a […] heavy weight to carry’ (lines 302-303). That the professor draws attention to the study of Swahili within the program as a problem—without my prompting—that I should have noticed (within two months of my arrival) is greatly significant because it, like the challenge from Ximena during the Swahili-language class in November, illustrates the language classroom to be a key site of struggle for some learners. 13 In the language classroom setting, even while studying Swahili becomes necessary for success within the academic community of practice, the African studies program, it is for some, ‘Not a subject to enjoy’ (line 305). The word problem resurfaces in the professor’s comments twice more in line 312, in reference to the program’s six students, because each of them entered without explicit interest in East Africa. This shows that there is a potential preference among the faculty for students inclined towards East Africa, or a recognition that the !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 13 True to the professor’s assertion, the Swahili-language requirement was an issue that had already come up several times in my previous, individual conversations with learners to-date. 461 program is not oriented to students whose interests lie elsewhere. In addition, the professor characterizes these students’ as having a continuing lack of interest in Swahili and East Africa, with this being an ongoing challenge, though the exception is a student who entered with a focus on Senegal and has sinced changed to Tanzania (lines 316, 318). Excerpt 8: 324 P1: And [.] obviously, the potential of the Swahili class, now that we have 325 more people who speak Swahili, now that we have more lecturers 326 who work with Swahili language 327 J: Hm. Mmhmm. 328 P1: it will be mo:re fruitful, i:: if we got students involved, or interested in 329 330 East Africa. J: Right. 331 P1: And Swahili language, because [.] as wel—as it’s compulsory, and it’s 332 a duty, it’s not very probable that u:h, uh, the students will change of 333 mind during the program. On the contrary, if they’re working about 334 Nigeria, if they’re working about Angola, 335 J: Mmhmm. 336 P1: if they’re working about South Africa, 337 J: Mmhmm. 338 P1: Swahili is useless! It’s true. 339 J: Okay.// 340 P1: //I mean, it’s a truth to say it. So, the problem is, only in my—well in 462 341 342 my case, I became Swahilist, J: Mmhmm. 343 P1: because I enjoy a lot the language and the about the history of 344 345 East Africa. J: Right. 346 P1: If you can learn, or put together, these interests, it’s very useful. 347 J: Mmhmm. 348 P1: And it is very positive, and you get a very good background. Mexico City, Interview with Professor #1, 13 October 2010, lines 324-348 After describing the student who focuses now on Tanzania as a research interest for their Master’s thesis, it is explained that a similar study of Swahili in graduate work led to the professor becoming a Swahilist. As the professor says, ‘[…] in my—well in my case, I became a Swahilist, because I enjoy a lot the language and the about the history of East Africa’ (lines 340-344). Therefore, it would stand to reason that just as an African studies program was responsible, in the professor’s view, for making them into a Swahilist, a similar program with requisite study of Swahili, is responsible for the possible channeling of student interests towards East Africa, and their potential conversion to, or training as a Swahilist. Of this type of training, the professor observes that ‘If you can learn, or put together, these interests, it’s very useful. And it is very positive, and you get a very good background’ (lines 345-348). This reveals that from the professor’s perspective, the student retains some degree of responsibility in their training as both Africanist and Swahilist; they must ‘put together, these interests’, and ultimately they stand to gain because they will obtain a ‘very good background’. 463 As our interview continued, the professor explained further why Swahili had been chosen as opposed to Yoruba, a diasporic African language with a significant presence in the Latin American region. Even as the professor explains the study of Swahili as beneficial, there is also acknowledged a competing interest in Yoruba by some previous students, as well as how some scholars argue that Yoruba should be outpacing Swahili in U.S. and Latin American universities because of its potentially greater historical presence in the Americas. Within this discussion, the professor makes mention of the role that slavery played in transporting numerous speakers of Yoruba to Mexico specifically, and Latin America in general. Excerpt 9: 535 P1: That’s an advantage. But the problem is that I can see—and even in 14 15 536 the ALTA 537 poli—the debate, about uh, why Swahili is the most spread language 538 for—for—for teaching in America. 539 congress, ---- [.] there was the mm:: the J: Mmhmm.// 540 P1: //And I remember sometimes the—obviously the most—the more, 541 542 the—the—the most visible objection was from the Nigerian scholars. J: Oh. 543 P1: The Yoruba. For example, 544 J: Ri::ght. 545 P1: some people have, some students have told us, as you know, !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 14 ALTA is the acronym for the African Language Teachers Association, an international organization of teachers of African languages and their allies, which meets annually in the U.S. 15 Some identifying information elided from this transcript. 464 546 547 historically speaking, J: Mmhmm. 548 P1: because of the u::h, the uh, kind of slaves that arrived here, well I 549 mean the origin of the slaves that, that—th:: that arrived here, in the 550 area, 551 J: Mmhmm. To Mexic[o? 552 P1: 553 [To:: Mexico, Latin America, J: Mmhmm. 554 P1: yea::h. Well, many were from West Africa, and also because of the 555 556 Santaria rites, religious rites, J: Mmhmm. 557 P1: this is still [.] visible and present, and visible, the—the—the presence 558 559 of Yoruba language. J: O::h! Okay.// 560 P1: //And some students who have studied from Columbia, from [.] from 561 562 u::h, mm:: well, one of them I know from Brazil, J: Mmhmm. 563 P1: have said, ‘Ah! We should get Yoruba instead of Swahili.’ Mexico City, Interview with Professor #1, 13 October 2010, lines 535-563 As the professor describes, in some cases it has been previous Columbian and Brazilian students in the African studies program who have drawn attention to the relevance of Yoruba to the Latin American setting (lines 560-563 above). Explaining further, the professor goes on to concede that there is a reasonable argument for the study of Yoruba within an African studies program, 465 particularly in Mexico (lines 578-583 below), which is linked to the ‘fusion-integration of the African Diaspora’ within ‘the culture of Latin America’ (lines 582-583). Still, there is support for the study of Swahili, which as a Bantu language, connects to the large ‘Bantu presence’ (line 599) throughout the Americas grounded in the enslavement of Bantu-speaking peoples from modern-day Angola and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. These Bantu-speakers brought with them words like ‘ng’ombe’ (line 610) (cow) that have been enveloped into Latin American varieties of Spanish. Excerpt 10: 578 P1: In my case as well. Even that there’s available the subject. But, in the 579 case of Yoruba, actually, there’s more an ideological and historical uh 580 argument that it has more to do 581 J: Oh. Mmhm[m. 582 P1: 583 [in the culture of Latin America. Because of the fusionintegration of the African Diaspora, en teoría than Swahili. in theory 584 J: Okay. 585 P1: Because, for example, people from Brazil, should know in Bahía 586 587 there’s a lot of influence of Santaría. J: Mm. 588 P1: It’s the Yoruba language. In Cuba, let alone, so [.] some people say 589 Yoruba is still u:::h a language that has roots, and has a certain 590 inheritance, 591 J: Mmhmm. 466 592 P1: in the, in the scope of the the:: African Diaspora in the—in Latin 593 594 America. Swahili not. J: O::h.// 595 P1: //I mean, you can argue very generally 596 J: Mmhmm. 597 P1: because, Okay! Swahili is Bantu. Yoruba is Niger-Kordofanian. 598 J: Mmhmm. 599 P1: but, because of the Bantu presence, for example, s: in certain part of 600 the um, e::h e:h eh, slavery in America, in Latin America, or South 601 America, 602 J: Mmhmm. 603 P1: ((inhales)) there ar—arrived many slaves from Angola. 604 J: Oh. 605 P1: Or from Congo. From uh, now the D:: Democratic Republic of Congo. 606 J: Mmhmm. 607 P1: From those areas it’s historically documented. So, the Angolan slaves 608 609 brought Bantu languages. J: Oh. 610 P1: And some words, like ‘ng’ombe’. cow 611 J: Oh. Co[w. 612 P1: 613 [It’s probably that you find in the language of the uh, descendents of Afro-American populations in Colombia, Venezuela, 467 614 Brazil. 615 J: Oh really?// 616 P1: //So Bantu is more present as a linguistic group. 617 J: Mmhmm. 618 P1: That’s . 619 J: Ah, okay. 620 P1: So, someone’s going to say, ‘Now, hi:: what?’ The problem would be 621 622 to get now, e:::h Yoruba lecturers. J: Mmhmm. 623 P1: And now if we change the language, the lecturers of Swahili should 624 go out. ((laughs)) So it would be complicated, ¿No? Wouldn’t it? 625 J: A::h.// 626 P1: //But it’s a—I mean, it’s an idea. Mexico City, Interview with Professor #1, 13 October 2010, lines 578-626 As these interview comments illustrate, the question of Why Swahili? at the university level, particularly in connection with programs in African studies, leads to a discussion of the historical presence of Africans and African languages within the Americas. The professor points to evidence of Bantu languages, including the surviving ng’ombe (cow) as it is found ‘in the language of the uh, descendents of Afro-American populations in Colombia, Venezuela, Brazil’ (lines 612-614 above). Such evidence, in addition to the other (aforementioned) contributing political and social factors, provides support for the teaching of Swahili at the Mexico City university. Musing on the prospect of including Yoruba in the African studies curriculum, the 468 professor speculates that, too, would create a challenge, because the Swahili-language lecturers would be displaced. But first, ‘the problem would be to get now, e:::h Yoruba lectures’ (lines 620-621). In this next section, I turn to excerpts of classroom discourse from the course on African history led by Professor #1. These excerpts allow a glimpse into the role of language ideology within the experience of the Swahili-learner cohort from the perspective of participation in a required course administered as part of their same MA program in African studies. Through the examination of classroom dialogue between the students and their professor regarding Luise White’s (2000) Speaking with vampires, and the importance and focus attributed to the mention of the Swahili language once it figures into this discussion, I aim to show how the language itself is regarded as an object of study within the university’s Swahili-language program, an inseparable dimension of the African studies program. Additionally, these excerpts of classroom talk illustrate how the discussion of colonial situations and postcolonial realities in Africa enable the students and their professor to articulate salient connections between legacies of colonialism in African and Latin American societies, namely those of Mexico and Cuba, two countries represented by these learners. This is a point that I expand further upon later in this chapter, in the presentation of separate discussion which occurred in this same classroom, but some weeks later, in relation to a different assigned reading from Walter Rodney’s (1982 [1972]) How Europe underdeveloped Africa. 469 Discussing Vampires and Chupasangre in Mexico City Excerpt 11: 5 T: cuatro sería un poco confuso [.] Entonces bueno, lo que vamos a [chapter] four could be a little confusing [.] So/then okay/well, what we are going 6 hacer en la sesión de hoy, [.] que de hecho va a estar muy to do in today’s session, 7 that in facto is going to be very entretenida para ustedes, [.] es de que voy a hablar un poco de entertaining for you all, is that I am going to speak/talk a little of/about 8 historiografía de lenguas bantú [.] Y también un poco de qué historiography of Bantu languages [.] And also a little of/about what 9 representa pues el libro de Speaking with vampires en la is represented well the book of 10 in the historiografía reciente sobre historia de África [.] recent historiography about African history Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 5-10 In this section I continue to explore the Mexico City classroom practice of incorporating language study within the investigation of Africa, providing examples of how Swahili is incorporated into the discourse of the African history course. The excerpts presented below actually occurred nearly two weeks before the discussion of the Resident Evil 5 videogame within the same class. However, these earlier talk excerpts are presented here, consistent with the chronological order in which they occurred, relative to the later discussion of zombies and the 470 use of Swahili in the videogame, because they allow a closer look at the linked activities of the Africanist and Swahilist in the classroom, which the later videogame discussion alludes to. As the short excerpt above illustrates, in these episodes of talk on March 30, the classroom is focused on reviewing a segment of Luise White’s (2000) now seminal historiography on the representation of blood, labor, and Western medicine in the colonial experience, Speaking with vampires: Rumor and history in colonial Africa. In chapter four of White’s work, ‘“Why is Petrol Red?” The experience of skilled and semi-skilled labor in East and Central Africa’, as throughout the entire book, evidence of rumor and local terminology used to refer to colonial agents and networks, is accrued through archival data and oral interviews with surviving locals of the former colonies—a controversial data collection method at the time within the field of history because it was assumed not to be reliable. Visible throughout Speaking with vampires are 16 numerous terms in Swahili, including the word wazimamoto , an equivalent of firefighters, who were seen by some locals as agents of the colonial project, and intermittently involved in the secret disappearing of other local people, the taking of their blood, and the delivering of this blood to the colonials for its consumption. It is the attention paid to these Swahili terms in the African history class, during their discussion of the text, that I highlight here in this section. The discussion of Speaking with vampires also provides an illustration of how this learning community is able to draw some parallels between colonial legacies in Latin America and in !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 16 White (2000) also provides examples of similar phenomena in colonial Uganda, where the Luganda term bazimamoto, an equivalent of firefighters, was employed. As White makes clear in the first chapter of her Speaking with vampires: Rumor and history in colonial Africa, ‘And throughout this book I shall use wazimamoto, mumiani, kachinja, banyama, and batumbula as synonyms for “vampire”, and vice versa: cultural literacy, like translation, is a two-way street’ (p. 15). She goes on to explain in that same first chapter that as a historian, ‘My concern is not with why the idea of bloodsucking Europeans came into being, but why it took the hold it did, and why Africans used it to depict a wide variety of situations and structures and sometimes acted upon such beliefs’ (p. 18). 471 Africa, in addition to a clarification of these classroom actors’ view of themselves as swahilistas (Swahilists) and cubanos (Cubans), among other intersecting identities. In introducing Speaking with vampires to the class, the professor talks about the contribution of the book as a groundbreaking paradigm of investigation, adding to previous statements about how the book is a recently published and ‘entretenida’ (line 7 above), or entertaining, historiography regarding ‘lenguas bantú’ (line 8), Bantu languages. Excerpt 12: 71 T: Y es como un modelo, como un paradigma de investigación. And it’s like a model, as/like a paradigm of research. 72 Entonces bueno, en mi opinión, porque también en gustos se rompen So/then 73 well, in my opinion, because also in [the] likes [of] [it] breaks géneros, para mí este libro de Luise White, Speaking with vampires genres, for me this book of/by 74 es una de las grandes obras de la historiografía africana de los is one of the greatest works of African historiography of the 75 últimos quince a veinte años. Es un libro del 2002, o sea no tiene last 76 fifteen to twenty years. It’s a 2002 book, that is it doesn’t have tanto, apenas va a cumplir [.] tiene, tiene 11 años. No es tan viejo [.] so many, it’s [only] just going to complete [.] having, having 11 years. It’s not so old 77 pero, eh, Luise White es una historiadora, eh, que [.] digamos, su but, eh, is a [female] historian eh, that [.] let’s say, her 472 78 carrera ha tenido ya dos premios Herskovits. El Melville Herskovits career has had already two prizes 79 es un premio que da la African Studies Asociation, la asociación is a prize that gives the 80 The the association esta que hace congresos cada año en Estados Unidos que creo que this that forms conventions each year in [the] U.S. that I think that 81 ya les he platicado y que bueno, que hay cierto contacto y en ese already I have talked to you all and that well, that there is certain contact and in that 82 sentido es que cada año hacen un premio anual y [.] y ha sido Luise sense it’s that each year they make/do an annual prize and [.] it has been 83 White de las pocas autoras que ha tenido dos, dos Premios of the few [female] authors that has had two, two Prizes 84 Herskovits. Uno por su tésis doctoral, que sobre todo para estudios One for her doctoral thesis, that above all for [African] studies Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 71-84 In essence, the history professor is sharing with the students the reasons why Speaking with vampires is such a valuable text for them to study, as a model of the incorporation of real and imagined experiences into the writing of history: ‘Y es como un modelo, una paradigma de investigación’ (line 71 above) (and it’s as/like a model, a paradigm of research/investigation). Part of the reason why the students should be interested in reading this text is because of its groundbreaking orientation toward the contextualization of historical experience, but also because it incorporates Bantu languages, of which Swahili is one, as in ‘historiografía de lenguas 473 bantú’ (line 8 above). In these same remarks, the professor also reveals how this book is one of the greatest works of African historiography completed within the last 15 to 20 years because it breaks across genres: ‘…en gustos se rompen géneros, para mí este libro […] es una de las grandes obras de la historiografía africana de los últimos quince a veinte años’ (lines 72-75). Additionally, according to the professor, the author of this great work in historiography is worth reading because she has twice won the Melville Herskovits prize of the U.S.-based African Studies Association, and is one of the few authors who has won two such prizes, ‘ha sido Luise White de la pocas autoras que ha tenido dos, dos Premios Herskovits’ (lines 82-84). As the professor begins to conclude his preamble to the coming classroom discussion of the text, the remarks begin to narrow to some of the book’s key features, including its incorporation of Swahili terms related to the concepts of vampire and bloodsucker. So says the professor: Excerpt 13: 209 T: ‘Vampires’ es un término que lo tomamos más bien de is a term 210 that we rather take [it] from occidente o del mundo de la literatura occidental, del inglés y [the] West of of the world of Western literature, from English and 211 evidentemente en swahili no existe una palabra equivalente. En evidently 212 in Swahili [there] doesn’t exist an equivalent word. In realidad, el tema aquí, es que White no quiso usar la palabra reality, the subject here, is that White didn’t want to use the word 213 ‘bloodsucker’ o sea en realidad lo que estamos hablando es algo that is in reality what we’re talking about is something 474 214 que se denominaría los chupadores de sangre, en África. O sea, no that would give name/rise to the suckers of blood, in Africa. That is, not 215 vampiros, porque en África no hay vampiros como en la figura vampires, because in Africa there are no vampires like/as in the 216 literaria. Entonces el tema es que, la, el libro empieza muy interesante literary figure. So/then the subject is that, the, the book begins very interesting Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 209-216 These comments from the professor acknowledge White’s (2000) usage of a number of Swahili equivalents to express the notion of vampire and bloodsucker in a manner that does not directly relate to ‘la figura literaria’ (lines 215-216), or the caped, coffin-dwelling creature of Bram Stoker’s vision or similar motifs. After a read of White’s chapter, it becomes clear that while there may not have been actual vampires during the colonial period, akin to our own current visions of undead bloodsuckers and vengeful, scorned lovers, the representation of colonial agents and laborers as bloodsuckers was a way of representing their differences, their strange behaviors, and their connection to the exploitative mechanism of European colonization in eastern and central Africa. As White outlines in the opening segment of her fourth chapter ‘“Why is Petrol Red?”’ (pp. 122-123): This chapter is also about interpretation of vampire stories as a genre, but relies largely on oral material to do so. […] Unlike in the previous chapter, I am interpreting many of these oral accounts as if they were true, or accurate. Such an interpretation allows me to examine what a man said happened at work and thus allows for a close scrutiny of the day-to-day processes of discipline and differentiation constructed there. Taking these accounts as histories of working gives me a description of a set of regional issues and 475 concerns that I argue are best understood and interrogated on a regional, transcolonial level of generalization. This analysis is no less specific because it is based on vampire stories from Tanzania interpreted with vampire stories from Uganda and Kenya; indeed, I argue that a regional reading of the genre offers much greater specificity about African concerns about technology, labor, and the various bondings of men and machines than any source read locally could do. (White, 2000, pp. 122-123) Through White’s own words the goal of her text as an intervention in the documentation of history, and of the particular experience in colonial labor throughout eastern Africa as told through firsthand accounts and fantastical memories, becomes clearer. Back in the African history class, it is also evident that the book’s contextualized exploration of the linked experiences of eastern African speakers of Bantu languages, especially Swahili, is of great value to the professor. 17 The specific method used in the book of uniting oral history and remembered experience with archived documents is seen here in the African history class to provide a more holistic view of the totality of colonization during that historical period. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 17 Later on, the professor can be heard to openly state an interest in ‘las partes lingüísticas’ (see lines 663-664 in ethnographic vignette #4 below) (the linguistic parts/components) of the work, elements of the book that should pique the interest of the students as well. ‘Entonces, este: pues bueno, este es una investigación muy interesante y les digo, es muy interesante porque abarca las partes lingüísticas, las partes de los épocas coloniales y las percepciones que hay sobre la medicina europea, ¿no?’ (lines 662-665). In essence, the professor is communicating here that a large part of why Speaking with vampires is interesting is because it covers linguistic aspects of the colonial experience and the local perceptions of European medicine. The use of the ¿no? tag here underscores the obvious or factual nature of the aforementioned statement (the professor is not looking for a student response here, and the students do not furnish one). 476 Excerpt 14: 268 T: Es decir [.] yo lo que hago, dice White, es juntar testimonios orales y It’s to say [.] what I do, says White, is to join/unite oral testimonials and 269 combinarlos con documentos y por eso en los primeros dos capítulos combine them with documents and because of that in the first two chapters 270 en hace una revisión de como la historiografía africana a veces se on making a reexamination of how African historiography sometimes it 271 pensaba que usabas una o usabas otra, porque sí en la época was thought [of] that you would use one or [the] other, because yes in the 272 colonial ya había documentación nada más te basabas en la colonial period there already was documentation you would base [your 273 documentación. Luego, analiza otra época de la historiografía africana research] on that documentation nothing more. Next, she analyzes another period of African historiography 274 en la cual se pensaba, a partir [1.0] de la historia oral, yo puedo in which it was thought, from 275 oral history, I can entender el punto de vista de los africanos, ¿no? Porque la—la understand the viewpoint of the Africans, right? Because the—the 276 historia documentada, el documento escrito, corresponde a [.] documented history, the written document, corresponds to 477 277 Ana: A l[a visión europea. To the European perspective. 278 T: [la visión colonial europea. ¿No? The European colonial perspective. Right? Mexico City, African history class, March 30, 2011, lines 268-279 Whereas most historiographies of the colonial era in Africa are based only on colonial documents, which detail the European perspective, the value of White’s (2000) intervention in Speaking with vampires is her consideration of oral history, in which she can ‘entender el punto de vista de los africanos, ¿no?’ (line 275 above), and understand the point of view of the Africans. The surviving, written documents from the colonial period in Africa, from the history professor’s perspective, are largely seen as evidence of the European point of view: ‘Porque la— la historia documentada, el documento escrito, corresponde a la visión colonial europea’ (lines 275-279). In this sense, the research that White (2000) is able to produce as a result of her training in, and attention to, local African languages stands as an example of a ‘very good Africanist’ (see above for interview with Professor #1, 13 October 2010, lines 896-897), one that the history professor had described in our interview earlier that academic year (and that I detail in a previous segment of this chapter). The scenario that the professor provides during the interview is of a researcher—the antithesis of a ‘very good Africanist’—who finds English to be sufficient for conducting investigations of colonial Ghana or Kenya, and this is something the professor finds wholly unacceptable. The professor sees the learning of an African language as a imperative for the Africanist scholar: ‘And I belong to an Africanist tradition that I, I think that to be a very good Africanist you must learn, or to get a good knowledge of a [African] language’ (Interview with Professor #1, 13 October 2010, lines 896-898). 478 Importantly, assigning Speaking with vampires for the students to read as part of their African history course exposes them to the type of scholarship it is expected that they will engage in, and that their African studies program is theoretically training them to do: research investigations based on primary sources in Swahili, or informed by data available only in Swahili. This is a crucial component of the program’s language ideology, which is enacted and performed during this class with the professor as guide and facilitator. Following this perspective, Luise White is a ‘very good Africanist’, and her book is an example of how going beyond British colonial documents and sourcing conversations with local Tanzanians and Ugandans can provide tremendous insights. It is therefore reasonable to interpret the professor’s open praise for Luise White, the author of Speaking with vampires, during the African history class, as an extension of earlier considerations of successful Africanist scholarship (as evidenced in the interview details) conducted with emic considerations for local Swahili terminology. Likewise, the professor’s focus on the linguistic aspects of the book during the class can be understood as a fundamental prioritization of the role of African languages, and Swahili in particular, in the work of the Africanist researcher—the Swahilist-Africanist. For these reasons, in the next phases of the classroom discussion of Speaking with vampires, four specific episodes occur of teacher-led querying on the Spanish equivalents of Swahili terminology. In each episode, the professor appears to expect the students to be able to quickly provide evidence of their prior and concurrent training in Swahili language and culture. These episodes relate to the discussion of the appearances in the text by White (2000) of terminology variously regarded as referents for vampires or supernatural figures: (1) wazimamoto (firefighters), (2) a linked discussion of mumiani (a blood-sourced medicinal treatment, or a blood-sourcing person), and wachinjaji 479 (butchers) (3) les simba bulaya (European lions), and an extra-textual mention of (4) Popo Bawa (a giant bat). In the one case, the final episode, where the students are unable to perform, the professor reveals some dissatisfaction with the outcome, and lightly criticizes the students’ Swahili-language instructors (in their absentia) for the students’ unpreparedness. In the next segments of this chapter, I feature these Swahili-focused episodes as ethnographic vignettes within the context of the larger classroom discussion, illustrating how the performance of the swahilista is linked to that of the africanista. In between these Swahilifocused episodes, there occurs additional dialogue that sheds light on how, as in the classroom discussion of media images of violence and chaos in African countries, and the Resident Evil 5 videogame, discussions of East African and African conditions and realities enable these classroom actors to engage lesser-acknowledged aspects of the Mexican and Latin American contexts, including periods of political violence, and the social taboos of infidelity and homosexuality. Ethnographic Vignette #2: Wazimamoto as Evidence of ‘un choque cultural’ Excerpt 15: 234 T: ¿Pero cuál es el tema? En esa época se creía que cualquier But what is the motive/issue? At that time it was thought that whichever 235 persona que desaparecía misteriosamente, así como en tiempos person who disappeared mysteriously, 236 as it was in precoloniales se podía pensar que por brujería o algo raro precolonial times it was possible to think that they disappeared by 480 237 desaparecían, aquí se pensaban que desaparecían porque los habían witchcraft or something weird, here it was thought that they disappeared because they had been 238 capturado, en este caso [.] A ver, ¿ustedes se acuerdan cómo se dice captured, in this case 239 Let’s see, do you all remember how it is said ‘bombero’ en swahili? [1.0] ‘firefighter’ in Swahili? 240 Xim: Lo dice [en el capítulo cuatro creo [.] It says in chapter 241 Ana: four I think [Era [.] Sí, lo dice en el capítulo [cuatro. It was [.] Yes, it says in chapter four. 242 Xim: [wazimamoto.// firefighters. 243 T: //¡Wazimamoto! Ya con su nivel de swahili, pues ya saben Firefighters! Already with your level of Swahili, well you all already know 244 per—perfectamente cómo se [.] compone, ¿no? [1.0] ((writes on per—perfectly 245 how it is composed, right? board)) Wazimamoto, ¿no? Entonces, resulta [.] que [.] se pensaba Firefighters, right? So/then, it follows 246 that it was thought que los bomberos, de:— de sobre todo en la parte de Kenia y that the firefighters, fro:m—from above all en the part of Kenya and 481 247 Tanzania, se dedicaban en las noches a capturar gente para robarles Tanzania, were devoted in the nights to capturing people in order to rob them [of their] 248 la sangre. [.] Ese es el principio del problema. blood. That is the beginning/essence of the problem. Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 234-248 Referring in lines 234-238 (above) to the documented phenomena of the disappearance of persons being attributed to the work of colonial vampires, who were understood to capture them for the consumption of their blood, the professor draws attention to the Swahili equivalent of ‘bombero’ (line 239) (firefighter). Using the term swahili to refer to the Swahili language in this statement (line 239), the professor makes no attempt to use the alternative Kiswahili, thereby maintaining a Spanish character. The students are asked if they remember what the Swahili word for ‘bombero’ is, signifying that this is most likely prior knowledge: ‘A ver, ¿ustedes se acuerdan cómo se dice ‘bombero’ en swahili? (lines 238-239) (Let’s see, do you all remember how it is said ‘bombero’ in Swahili?). To this question two students offer a response, indicating they have 18 identified the Swahili terminology for firefighter, ‘wazimamoto’ (line 242), which is presented in chapter four of the text, ‘lo dice en el capítulo cuatro’ (line 241). That ‘wazimamoto’ (line 242) is supplied by one of the students (in response to the question) brings the professor great satisfaction, as illustrated by the latched response in line 243, and accompanying, emphatic exclamation of the same: ¡Wazimamoto! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 18 The Swahili ‘wazimamoto’ (line 242) (firefighters) is actually more akin to the Spanish plural bomberos (firefighters), rather than bombero (firefighter), so strictly speaking, this would not be a correct translation. However, the term wazimamoto is presented as such in White (2000), which may have encouraged the students to furnish this word, rather than the singular mzimamoto (firefighter). 482 The next portion of the professor’s response to the student’s correct answer reveals that knowledge of the Swahili language is taken to be a prerequisite for the studying of African history within this community of practice. Reflective of the agglutinating quality of the Swahili language, the term wazimamoto is a compound nominal derivation composed of a pluralized, animate prefix, wa- , a verb stem -zima (to put out, to turn off, to extinguish), and the noun moto (fire), all of this together literally meaning, fire-put-outer-people or firefighters. This is what the professor can be understood as referring to in the statement on knowing how the word wazimamoto is composed, ‘Ya con su nivel de swahili, pues ya saben per—perfectamente cómo se compone, ¿no?’ (lines 243-244) (Already with your level of Swahili, well already you all know per—perfectly how [the word] is composed, right?). The professor’s use of ya (line 243) here in the first part of the statement carries with it the idea that the expected ability the students have at this moment in the Swahili language is a composite of skills they have reliably accumulated through their prior and concurrent language training in the program. ‘Ya’ surfaces again in the second part of the statement (line 243), which is anchored by a rhetorical use of 19 ‘¿no?’ (line 244) , reiterating a sense of the students already having accumulated linguistic knowledge—that the learners should already know this, and their current class discussion is only a recapitulation (in part) of this earlier training, not a language teaching session. That is, the students are being positioned as competent speakers of Swahili. The professor’s action of writing wazimamoto on the whiteboard (lines 244-245) (see Figure 1 below) emphasizes an expert authority in designating which knowledge is for consumption. And then the IRE sequence is over as soon as it began, with the professor moving the dialogue forward in the immediate, emphatic use of ‘Entonces’ (line 245), and continuing on to a consideration of these ‘bomberos’ (line 246) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 19 Again, here the use of the ¿no? tag imparts the sense that the aforementioned statement is obvious and factual. It does not invite a vocal response because it serves a rhetorical function. 483 in their perceived role as bodysnatchers and bloodstealers: ‘Entonces, resulta que se pensaba que los bomberos, de:—de sobre todo en la parte de Kenia y Tanzania, se dedicaban en las noches a capturar gente para robarles la sangre’ (lines 245-248). Another observation to be made here concerns how this talk episode, surrounding the discussion of wazimamoto in the text by White (2000), can be understood to manifest specifically because of the classroom actors’ linked performances of the roles of swahilista and africanista within this classroom space. By quizzing the students and requiring them to instantaneously demonstrate their knowledge of Swahili (familiarity with wazimamoto), the professor provides a preview of how linguistic knowledge and lexical knowledge, in particular, are valued credentials for membership within the academic community. The key here is that the learners are asked to quickly provide the Swahili equivalent of bombero here. Anyone unfamiliar with Swahili would be much less capable of successfully responding to this request. In this, the learners are guided into a performance of legitimate peripheral participation. In a way, the professor reminds the students that their satisfactory performance within this interactional sequence is only enabled by their prior language training and review of the text by White (2000). These are acts that are successfully accomplished by the Swahilist-Africanist in training, as prescribed by the African studies program, and the professor’s explicit choice of this text for the history course. 484 Figure 22. Classroom whiteboard following vampire discussion. Mexico City, 30 March 2011. ‘Wazimamoto, ¿no?’ (line 245 above): Once the meaning of wazimamoto is established in classroom talk, both in relation to its direct, literal translation as bombero (firefighter), and its sociocultural reference to a bloodsucking entity in the colonial context, the teacher-led discourse goes on to draw connections between Latin American and African experiences in colonization. 485 Excerpt 16: 308 T: y los primeros capítulos son muy interesantes. Pero bueno [.] and the first 309 entonces White [.] propone esto metodológicamente y también, en so/then 310 proposes this methodologically and also, in este sentido, pues hace un seguimiento de cómo hay una historia this sense, 311 chapters are very interesting. But okay/good well she makes a pursuit of how there is a history/story porque eso también ella lo demuestra. Con la llegada de la medicina because that’s also [what] she demonstrates. With the arrival of 312 moderna surgen ciertos problemas de choque cultural y esa es la modern medicine arose certain problems from [a] cultural clash and that is the 313 razón por la cual yo introduje en el curso de Historia IV esto. Porque reason for which I introduce this in the course of History IV. Because 314 digamos, hemos visto textos, pues ya medio viejones de la let’s say, we have seen texts, well [now kind of old] of the 315 administración colonial, de los problemas económicos. Pero hay un colonial administration, of/about the economic problems. But there is a 316 punto que es muy importante tomar en cuenta, que siempre una point that is very important to take into account, that always a 317 colonización representa un choque cultural. Siempre. Y que también colonization represents a cultural clash. 486 Always. And that also 318 en cierto sentido, en el contexto de qué tanto dura el contacto, por in [a] certain sense, in the context of how long the contact lasts, for 319 ejemplo, nuestras colonizaciones, estamos hablando de que somos example, our 320 colonizations, we are saying that we are producto de una cultura ya muy mezclada a través de siglos. Hay que [the] product of a culture already very mixed through centuries. It must 321 ver por ejemplo de que en África pues fue un choque que fue de muy be seen for example that in Africa well it was a clash that was of very 322 poco tiempo. Es decir [.] cuando estamos hablando en términos little time. 323 It’s to say [.] when we are speaking in económicos lo que significó la introducción de la economía colonial y economic terms what it meant the introduction of the colonial economy and 324 la introducción de impuestos son choques también culturales, digo, y the introduction of taxes 325 In this case, the issue of modern medicine as contraposición de las creencias o de la medicina tradicional es un [a] opposed [to] the beliefs 327 cultural, I say, and económicos. En este caso, el tema de la medicina moderna [.] como economic. 326 are clashes also or traditional medicine is a choque cultural súper fuerte también. cultural clash super strong also. Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 308-327 487 Subsequent to the explicit explanation of the Swahili term for firefighter, within the professor’s remarks is an expanded exploration of the significance of the firefighter as a bloodsucking agent of the colonial project. Here, the professor calls attention to the vampirefirefighter as a symbol of the cultural impact of colonization, seeming to acknowledge a link between colonial experiences in both Africa and Latin America, terming these as ‘nuestras colonizaciones’ (line 311 above) (our colonizations). In the next phrase regarding ‘nuestras colonizaciones’ (line 319 above) (our colonizations) there is a sense that such a process of cultural struggle and change is marked by time, by a colonization process centuries in the making, in the case of Mexico and Latin America, as opposed to what took place in Africa. I interpret the professor to be referring to both Latin American and African experiences in colonization because of the plural form of colonización, indicating discussion of more than one experience. In other words, when viewed in context, the vampire-firefighter should remind us how the process of colonization represents a cultural shock, a cultural clash, a cultural impact, and point of struggle: ‘Pero hay un punto que es muy importante tomar en cuenta, que siempre una colonización represente un choque cultural’ (lines 315-317 above). This assertion is underscored by the immediate repetition and tonal emphasis put on ‘siempre’ (line 317) in the next sentence, and by the potential set of images invoked through the use of choque before it. In Mexican Spanish, the word choque is used to describe a street or highway accident between two or more cars, bringing to mind a violent referential image in these comments on the colonial experience; characterizing colonization as a grave, sometimes deadly, conflict, crash, or clash. This image is perhaps especially salient in the case of cultural change, with the notion of change here entailing that some aspects of a particular culture must die or give way, in order for different practices to 488 take hold. In this sense, the understanding of the firefighter as vampire can be seen as a manifestation of this cultural struggle in the introduction of foreign medicines and medical treatments during a time of heavy economic exploitation and political and social restructuring throughout the African continent. With regards to Latin American and African experience, the imposition of outsider cultures created a choque cultural which, in the professor’s view, always happens. Perhaps the depth of time with which Latin Americans experienced Spanish colonization from the arrival of Hernán Cortés in 1502 has produced ‘una cultura ya muy mezclada’ (line 320) which has resolved into something positive for contemporary Latin American identity. However, it is still acknowledged here that this began as a cultural struggle. In this statement the professor is drawing attention to similarities in the postcolonial realities of contemporary Latin Americans and Africans, the ‘producto de una cultura ya muy mezclada a través de siglos’. This highlights an important distinction in these experiences—that today’s Latin America is the result of a colonization process that began some four centuries 20 before that which occurred in Africa. The relatively condensed nature of colonization in Africa is what makes this study of colonial vampires all the more compelling, that these social reactions !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 20 It is curious to note here that no mention is made of how many millions of Africans were deported to the Americas, including Mexico, where they were enslaved beginning in the very early stages of the colonial project in the Western Hemisphere. These mass deportations occurred up to three centuries before the formal start of colonies on the African continent by European powers, and are another significant aspect of the larger story that connects the Global South (persons from Africa were distributed through Southeast Asia, including India and Philippines, through their selling and trade by Arab, Dutch, Portuguese, and Spanish interests) (see, for example, Ribeiro da Silva, 2011). In fact, the professor’s assertion that the classroom actors are all of them a ‘producto de una cultura ya muy mezclada a través de siglos’ (line 320 above) would seem to necessarily acknowledge the centuries-old African presence in Mexico and Latin America, though this is never explicitly stated. Even when ‘esclavitud’ (line 413 below) (slavery) is mentioned, there continues to be no explicit discussion of the Mexican or Latin American legacies in the enterprise. 489 to the import of colonialism and all of its accompanying features (European medicine, European labor structures) began to occur relatively quickly, and are remembered so many years later. This observation may be what leads the professor to remark a short while later how the value of White’s (2000) study is in how she is able to demonstrate how Africans have their own perceptions of the Europeans during the colonial period, and that the view by some Africans of the Europeans as bloodsuckers is far too important, systematic, and regionally prevalent throughout eastern Africa, to be simply dismissed as superstition. O sea, estudia la historia médica, porque también hay una rama que se llama ‘historia médica’ y la historia médica colonial es amplísima, pero también ella hace una crítica, porque dice bueno, al principio la historia médica era solamente describer lo que se hacía, cómo se curaba a la gente. Los médicos llegaban también con su visión occidental del mundo. Llegaban pensando que lo que creían los africanos eran supersticiones. Que por ejemplo este tema de que creían que chupaban la sangre era pues supersticiones de gente ignorante, pero no se ponían a pensar cómo era la reacción de los africanos a partir de lo que estaban acostumbrados a hacer. […] Pero lo que trata de hacer White es mostrar que los africanos tienen sus propias percepciones. (Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 333-342, lines 369-370) Or, [the] study of medical history, because also there is a branch that is called ‘medical history’ and the colonial medical history is very ample, but also she makes a critique, because she says well, at the start medical history was only [for] describing what they [themselves] had done, how they had cured people. The doctors also arrived with their Western vision of the world. They arrived thinking that what the Africans believed were 490 superstitions. That for example this subject of them believing that they were sucking the blood was well [the] superstitions of ignorant people, but they didn’t put themselves [in the position of] thinking how it was the reaction of the Africans from [the position] of what they were accustomed to doing. […] But what White is trying to do is to show that the Africans have their own perceptions. Ultimately, the contribution to the field of medical history that the professor declares is made by Speaking with vampires relates back to White’s (2000) engagement with local African languages in the researching of this text. This seems to be a point that the professor continues to underscore all throughout the class period. In the next section of this chapter, I move on to examine a third ethnographic vignette, surrounding a focus on the term mumiani. This second vignette serves to further illustrate how prior knowledge of Swahili language and culture is considered by the professor a prerequisite for this course in African history. Ethnographic Vignette #3: ‘¿Qué era el mumiani?’ Not too long following the exploration of the implications of the firefighter-vampire motif within the African colonial experience, the class transitions into a discussion of the Swahili term mumiani, likely because of student questions regarding the origin of the idea of bloodsuckers and vampires within the African experience. Excerpt 17: 406 Ana: [Aquí ((raises voice above Natalia)) se está manejando la idea de Here 407 it is being handled the idea of Nat: [ 491 408 Ana: raptar a la gente y luego irle sacando la sangre poco a poco hast[a abducting people and then taking [their] blood little by little 409 410 T: [No:: Ana: [que until 411 T: [pero aquí no [le sacaban la sangre poco a poco but here they’re not taking the blood little by little 412 Nat: [Pero yo pienso que si hay cierta relación con eso de But I think that if there is [a] certain relationship with that of 413 raptar a la gente para la esclavitud. ¿N[o? abducting people for slavery. 414 T: Right? [Bueno. A ver, vamos a [.] Okay. Let’s see, we’ll go to 415 vamos—vamos por—por el principio. Este:: a ver. Hay una palabra en we’ll go to—we’ll go to—to the beginning. Thi::s let’s see. There is a word in 416 swahili, que sería digamos el génesis de la idea de lo que sería en Swahili, that would be let’s say the genesis of the concept of what would be in 417 inglés el bloodsucker o el chupasangre. ¿Alguno de ustedes la English the bloodsucker or the chupasangrea. Does any of you all 492 418 sabe? [1.0] Natalia, tú que ya: vas—vas muy avanzada en los know it? Natalia, you who already you’re going/getting—you’re going/getting very advanced in the 419 estudios de swahili. studies of Swahili. 420 Nat: ¡Yo ((laughs)) voy como mismo va el resto! I’m 421 going/continuing [the] same as the rest! T: ((short laugh)) A ver, es súper interesante la historia. A finales del Let’s see, it’s super interesting the story. At the end of the 422 siglo:: [.] la segunda mitad del siglo XIX [.] se hizo muy popular en la century the second half of the 18th century [.] it was made very popular on the 423 costa de [.] de swahili. En el mundo árabe-swahili, una medicina que coast of 424 of [the] Swahili. In the Arab-Swahili world, a medicine that se llamaba mumiani. ((writing on whiteboard)) [1.0] Ya cuando lean was called mumiani. 425 As you read los capítulos 3 y 4 van a ver que la palabra aparece mucho. the chapters 3 and 4 you’re going to see that the word appears [quite a bit]. 426 Xim: Sí me suena, que lo dice [todo el tiempo. Yes it sounds [so to] me, that it says it all the time. 427 Ana: [Sí, mumiani// Yes, mumiani 493 428 T: //¿Qué era el mumiani? Bueno, el mumiani originalmente, y de What was mumiani? Well, mumiani originally, and of Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 406-428 In this segment of classroom talk, the introduction of mumiani as a topic for discussion appears to be encouraged by student questions as to the origin of African concepts of bloodsuckers. One student, Ana, is concerned with connecting the notion of the colonial vampire to the idea of the European slave trade, that they ‘raptar a la gente’ (line 408 above) (abducted people), and the local beliefs that a reason for this trade in people was that these unlucky people were to be consumed upon reaching their next destination. This notion is echoed by another student, Natalia, who supposes that the idea is linked to ‘raptar a la gente para la esclavitud’ (lines 412-413), the abducting of people for slavery. But it is the professor’s desire to improve these students’ understanding, that motivates a return to the beginning of the idea thread, ‘A ver, vamos a [.] vamos—vamos por—por el principio’, (lines 414-415), and the mention of there being a word in Swahili that would signify the genesis of the concept of the bloodsucker: ‘Hay una palabra en swahili, que sería digamos el génesis de la idea de lo que sería en inglés el bloodsucker o el chupasangre’ (lines 415-417). All of this foreshadows the later introduction of ‘mumiani’ in line 424 by the professor, and serves as the first mention of the Latin American motif of chupasangre, which is later explored in greater detail, and in specific relation to the Mexican experience with chupacabras. Another robust feature of this talk episode is the manner in which the professor goes about verifying the students’ familiarity with the term mumiani. Differently from the introduction of the term wazimamoto before it (see above), the term mumiani is alluded to in 494 21 such a way as to provide parallel referents (lines 415-417), but not the term itself. Next, the professor poses the question to the students of whether any of them knows what term (or word/ ‘palabra’ (line 415) is being referred to: ‘¿Alguno de ustedes la sabe?’ (lines 417-418) ([Does] anyone of you all know it [the word]?). Importantly, after this question has been asked, and a short pause of about one second transpires without a student response, the professor redirects the question to a particular student regarded as having the highest Swahili-language proficiency, an ability the student laughingly disavows. Says the professor to the Natalia: ‘tú que ya: vas—vas muy avanzada en los estudios de swahili’ (lines 418-419) (You who already you’re going/getting—you’re going/getting very advanced in the studies of Swahili). Then comes the reply, with Natalia laughing: ¡Yo voy como mismo va el resto! (line 420) (I’m going/continuing the same as the rest [of the students]!). This rejoinder from the student has the professor laughing, too, in line 421, and ultimately abandon the line of questioning. The exchange illustrates that the professor has categorized students based on perceived abilities in the Swahili language, again showing that for the professor, this ability is greatly valued as an expert skill in the classroom community. The professor’s laughs in line 421 then appear to ease into a short description of mumiani as both a medicine of the Arab-Swahili world, and a term which appears frequently throughout chapters three and four of Speaking with vampires. On this last point, there is some agreement from two students in lines 426-427, who acknowledge having seen the word mumiani in what they have read. This then feeds into the professor’s question, ‘¿Qué era el mumiani?’ (line 428) (What was [the] mumiani?). This question meets no response from the !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 21 In the speech event surrounding wazimamoto the professor directly asks students for the Swahili equivalent, providing the Spanish bombero. With mumiani, students are primed regarding what the term relates to concept-wise, but not the direct translation of the word in Spanish. 495 students, and the professor goes on to supply answer to the question without attempting to question students further. 22 In the next segments of the discussion of mumiani, the professor goes on to explain how it was the name given to a legendary, plant-based, curative salve of rheumatism, muscular pains, and impotence in the Arab-Swahili World, and possibly in India, South Asia, or Persia. With time, however, the salve began to be heavily coveted and valued until it was believed that its value derived from its being made with human blood. As the professor explained: Pero la gente empezó a pensar y se empezó a extender la creencia que era una medicina muy cara y valiosa y útil porque era hecha de sangre humana. Entonces el mumiani en realidad es la medicina, de este origen como árabe indio que inclusive dicen en la India, que en la misma India se pensaba eso o sea es decir que se hacía de sangre humana. (Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 442-447) But people began to think and it began to extend the belief that it was a medicine very expensive and valuable and useful because it was made of human blood. So the mumiani in reality is the medicine, of this origin as Arab Indian [about which] they say in India, that in the very same India it is thought that or [that] is to say that it was made of human blood. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 22 It could also be the case that the professor did not really expect the students to know the true, original meaning of mumiani dating back to ‘la segunda mitad del siglo XIX’ (line 422) (the second half of the nineteenth century). This could be indicated by the willingness to immediately delve into the definition of mumiani, and also by the use of the present tense of saber (to know) (as opposed to an iteration of the verb acordarse—to remember) in the original query, ‘¿Alguno de ustedes la sabe?’ (lines 417-418), rather than the subjunctive (sepa), which could transmit a meaning of should know, and a more insistent expectation that the students know the term themselves. 496 Upon the medicine’s arrival in Zanzibar and eastern Africa, increase in demand was linked somehow with the increasing disappearance of local people, and eventually the notion of mumiani became tied to the act of capturing people for the purposes of extracting their blood through some form of exsanguination, as when animals are butchered and their blood let. This supposition endured throughout the coming and settling of European Jews in the coastal region, and the imposition of European (German, British) colonialism, feeding into the notions of the new Western-style firefighters as bloodsuckers. This discussion of mumiani is next linked to a restatement of the connection of wazimamoto to vampire imagery in Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda, and thereafter the term wachinjaji is introduced as another key iteration of the colonial vampire elsewhere in eastern Africa, primarily in Bemba-speaking areas of Zambia. Excerpt 18: 506 T: Porque esto ya tiene que ver con historia:: laboral y económica, con Because this already has to do with labor and economic history, with 507 aquellos sectores que se van generando que son como burocracias those 508 sectors that are generated which are like coloniales [.] que, en principio son europeas y luego son africanas, colonial bureaucracies [.] that, at [the[ beginning are European and later African, 509 que cumplen una función específica y se piensa que ellos son los que that complete a specific function and it is thought that they are the [ones] that 510 se dedican a capturar a la gente. Entonces en África del Este se are devoted to abducting people. So/then in East Africa 497 511 piensa que son los wazimamoto. Los bomberos, ¿no? Por ejemplo it is thought that they are the wazimamoto. The firefighters, right? For example, 512 en el caso de Uganda, también digamos el caso de—de Kenia, en in the case of Uganda, also let’s say 513 Tanzania también. En el caso de por ejemplo lo que sería [.] este:: [.] Tanzanian too. 514 the case of—of Kenya, in In the case of for example what would be [.] u::h Zambia actualmente, se piensa que son los que cuidan los parques today’s Zambia, it was thought that they are the [ones] who take care of the 515 de animales o los que cuidan la cacería. animal/game parks or those that take care of the hunting. 516 517 Ana: Hm. T: Que en este caso, aquí digamos u:h, en lengua bemba, en lenguas That in this case, here let’s say u:h, in [the] Bemba langauge, in languages, 518 uh, bantú, ya saben que el prefijo para el plural, ya como en swahili es uh, Bantu, already you all know that the prefix for the plural, as in Swahili is 519 ‘wa’, en otras lenguas sería ‘ba’ o sería ‘mu’, ‘wa’, in other languages [it] would be ‘ba’ or [it] would be ‘mu’, 520 521 Ana: Hm. T: entonces en—en—en, en esa zona les llaman este: ‘munyama’ o so/then 522 in—in—in, in that area they call them u:h ‘munyama’ or ‘banyama’. Pero ‘banyama’ relacionado a los que se dedican a cazar ‘banyama’. But ‘banyama’ [is] related to those that are devoted to hunting 498 523 o a cuidar animales, o digamos [.] campos e:: este: naturales, ¿no? [.] or to taking care of animals, or let’s say [.] natural u::h u:h fields, right? 524 Y en otro caso por ejemplo, que eso es también interesante, en And in another case for example, what is also 525 regiones como los luos o en otras regiones de lo que es actualmente regions like 526 the Luos or in other regions of what is today’s el Congo, [.] se les llama este: ‘wachinjaji’. ‘Wachinjaji’ sí saben lo Congo, 527 interesting, in they were called u:h ‘wachinjaji’. ‘Wachinjaji’ yes you all know que son. [.] ¿Qué es ‘wachinjaji’? ¿Qué es ‘kuchinja?’// what they are. [.] What is ‘wachinjaji’? What is ‘kuchinja’? 528 Xim: //Los que matan a los animales, ¿no?// Those who kill animals, right? 529 T: //((raised, excited voice)) ¡Exacto! Wachinjaji serían los carniceros. Exactly! Wachinjaji would be the butchers. 530 Ana: Mm. Mmhmm. Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 506-530 As this third ethnographic vignette continues, it can be seen how the discussion of the origin of the ideas of bloodsucking and the disappearing of people becomes more clear, giving way to the introduction of another related representation of colonial vampire, the wachinjaji, or ‘carniceros’ (line 526 above) (butchers). 23 This time, the Swahili term ‘wachinjaji’ is first !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 23 It should be noted here that another reasonable translation of the Swahili wachinjaji could also be slaughterers, though ‘carniceros’ (line 529 above) or butchers is used within this classroom community. The act of slaughter is implicated by the Swahili verb kuchinja, usually invoked in the context of the preparation of a live animal for the later acts of cooking and consumption. This 499 supplied by the professor in line 526, and then inserted into a question to ask about its meaning, but not before it is intimated that this meaning should be common knowledge among the students: ‘‘Wachinjaji’ sí saben lo que son’ (lines 526-527) (‘Wachinjaji’ yes you all know what/who they are). The micropause after this statement also suggests that the professor is soliciting a response from the students. However, a response does not materialize, which may be why the professor continues on to ask for a definition of the term. Part of the performance of the expert as having African-language competence is illustrated in the explication of the relation of terms for banyama (hunters) and wachinjaji (butchers) across Bantu languages, which is itself another indication of how Swahili-language knowledge is considered in this learning community as a prerequisite for the study of Africa. For example, the description of the pluralizing prefixes across Bantu languages (lines 517-519) is temporarily paused for the insertion of a phrase indicating (as when the term ‘wachinjaji’ is specifically addressed later on in line 526), that these linguistic details are ones that should already be common knowledge among the students: ‘…ya saben que el prefijo para el plural, ya como en swahili es ‘wa’…’ (lines 518-519) (already you all know that the prefix for the plural, already/obviously like in Swahili is ‘wa’). Again, it is the use of ya here that transmits a sense of completion, that these things are already known, and readily observable by all of the classroom actors. In ths, the professor is positioning the learners as a knowledgeable audience. Later on, it is the professor’s same sense that these linguistic details are known quantities that may contribute to the tandem mention of both the noun wachinjaji, and its related verb kuchinja, in questions to the students (line 527), with kuchinja offered as a hint as to the meaning of wachinjaji. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! second meaning would tie into the Spanish notion of sacrificar, also pertaining to the preparation of a live animal for the fashioning of edible portions of meat. 500 Similar to the introduction of wazimamoto into earlier class discussion, the professor poses a question, ‘¿Qué es ‘wachinjaji’?’, immediately followed by another question, specifically on the related verb wachinjaji derives from, ‘¿Qué es ‘kuchinja’?’ (line 527) (What is ‘to slaughter’?). These questions, initiating an IRE sequence, can be understood to have been met with a satisfactory response from the student (‘los que matan los animales, ¿no?’, line 528), for the professor’s next conversational turn is executed in a raised, excited voice, ratifying the student’s performance before it with the phrases: ‘¡Exacto! Wachinjaji serían los carniceros’ (line 529). As in previous episodes of talk in this class, the issuance from the professor of a question pertaining to a particular Swahili lexical item illustrates the professor’s authority to judge the correctness or appropriateness of students’ responses. Consequentially, this creates space within the classroom for the legitimate peripheral participation of the learners within the dialogue, which is largely teacher-led (although, arguably the students’ questions and comments or lack thereof—as in the non-response to the question on mumiani—have some bearing on the direction of the conversation and transitions between topics therein). As the conversation continues, there is reference made to the practice of the Maasai of Kenya and Tanzania, who are known to let the blood of their cattle in order to gain access to this animal blood as a survival food (lines 531-535 below). This is contrasted with the practices of wachinjaji who slaughter humans and drain their blood in totality, rather than allow them to live while accessing their blood, little by little (lines 535-539). The notion of wachinjaji is next linked to its related iteration in Mozambique, termed chupasange in the Portuguese (lines 542544). 501 Excerpt 19: 531 T: Entonces wachinjaji—porque es la idea que se tiene. Fíjate que es So/then wachinjaji—because it’s the idea that [people] have. Look how it’s 532 bien interesante la asociación de lo que me decías. Es que a los greatly interesting the association of which you told me. It’s what the 533 animales—lo:s masaai les—les [.] animals—the: Maasai they—they 534 Ana: Les quitab[an [.] The take/remove [it] 535 T: [Sí pero poco a poco les chupan. Aquí se piensa que se Yes but little by little they suck them. Here it is thought that 536 matan los seres humanos como si se matara una res. O como los the human beings are killed as if one would kill a cow. Or as the 537 musulmanes, ¿no?, que cuando matan, digamos, [.] desangran al Muslims [do], right?, that when they kill, let’s say [.] they bleed/let the 538 animal, ¿no? [1.0] Entonces en ese sentido digamos, este::, piensan animal, right? 539 So/then in that sense let’s say, u::h, they think que eso hacen con los—con los seres humanos. Entonces por eso en that that’s [what] they do with the—with the human beings. So/then because of that in 540 otras regiones se les llama wachinjaji. [2.0] Y lo interesante como les other regions they are called wachinjaji. 502 And it’s interesting as 541 digo es que en varias regiones del continente de esta—de esta I say to you all that in various regions of the continent of this—of this 542 región, se cree en lo mismo. Y por último en el norte de Mozambique, region, it was believed the same. And finally en the north of Mozambique, 543 que ya está más aculturizado se acordarán, ¿no? Con el tema del which is already more acculturated it would be agreed, right? With the motive of the 544 portugués. Se les llama, simplemente chupasange. [1.0] Portuguese. They were called, simply chupasange. 545 Ana: ((short laugh)) 546 T: ¿No? [1.0] Right? Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 531-546 In line 533 (above), where the professor hesitates, and appears to be searching for the right words to complete an observation about the Maasai, a student response in line 534 (and the professor’s subsequent agreement with Ana’s statement) could indicate an alignment among these classroom actors, which likely allows for further entry into the ensuing conversation by this and other students (lines 547-554 below). Ana here displays some degree of expertise about the practices of the Maasai in line 534, and her laugh in line 545 seems to indicate some level of surprise following the professor’s description of how the term ‘chupasange’ (line 544) (bloodsucker) came to be used in colonial Mozambique. It is not clear whether this surprise could relate to either the oddness of the Portuguese permutation of the term or the revelation that the term earlier manifested in colonial Mozambique. Then comes the professor’s counter of 503 ‘¿No?’ (line 546), followed by another response from Ana, which in the next conversational turn (line 547 below) takes the form of a question. Excerpt 20: 547 Ana: O sea, ¿que la idea del chupasangre aquí en la América Latina viene That is, that the concept of chupasangre here in Latin America comes 548 de eso? from that? 549 T: No sé. ¿De aquí en América Latina? I don’t know. From here in Latin America? 550 Ana: Pues sí. Aquí también hay leyendas de chupasangres. Well yes. Here also there are legends of chupasangres. 551 Lun: Sí, cuando en los noventas// Yes, when in the nineties 552 Ana: //Mmhmm:. Mmhmm::. 553 Lun: hubo del chupasangre. there was of chupasangre. 554 Ana: En In 555 T: 24 --[-- sí hay muchas. ---- yes there are many. [Bueno. Aquí hubo chupacabras. ¿No? Okay. Here they were chupacabras. Right? Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 547-555 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 24 Some identifying information elided from this transcript. Specifically, there was mention of another country in Latin America. 504 Ana’s question on the possible African origin of the Latin American concept of chupasangre in line 547 (above) again illustrates the connections these classroom actors are making between African and Latin American contexts. Along these lines, the local Mexican ‘leyendas de chupasangres’ (line 550 above), chupasangre legends, are considered relevant to the discussion, as well as the preponderance of similar legends in another Latin American country (line 554). Ultimately, it is the professor who brings the Mexican experience with ‘chupacabras’ (line 555) (goatsucker/bloodsucker) into focus, as part of this larger discussion of the historical phenomena of vampires and bloodsuckers. In this way, the conversation has traversed both African and Latin American imagined powerscapes and power relations of the past, going from wazimamoto, to mumiani, wachinjaji, and on to chupasange, and its relations to the more familiar, more local chupasangre and chupacabras. The emergence of these historical phenomena in relation to the expansion of contexts of economic and other inequalities is an observation the professor goes on to highlight in further comments. As the professor states, these phenomenon are not about the demonization of the other, ‘No es satanizar’ (line 564). Rather, the notion of the colonial vampire is reminiscent of the manner in which colonial power was lived and experienced: El darle, a un fenómeno colonial que es la medicina moderna y a los europeos mismos esta connotación, es una consecuencia también de la [.] cómo se visualiza el poder colonial en cierto sentido. (Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 564-568) 505 [To think of] a colonial phenomenon that is modern medicine and to the Europeans themselves [in this way] this connotation, is a consequence also of the [.] way it was displayed the colonial power in [a] certain sense. As the formal period of colonization began to come to a close, and Europeans began to withdraw from African countries, the prevalance of the bloodsucker as an embodiment of colonial power began to subside as well. This comes across in these next, final segments of this ethnographic vignette, in which the Mexican chupacabras is explored in relation to the events that transpired while Uganda was under the leadership of Idi Amin, from 1971-1979, and the turbulent political history of Mexico under Carlos Salinas, president from 1988-1994. These later references to the invention of chupacabras during the presidency of Carlos Salinas clarify a student’s earlier mention of ‘los noventas’ (line 551 above), the decade of the nineties, the years under Salinas’ presidency, during which the chupacabras emerged in Mexico in relation to the political stage. Excerpt 21: 570 T: Es decir y dice bueno, a veces cuando se genera una relación de It’s to say and it says well, sometimes when it is generated a relationship of 571 poder que es tan inequitativa, como lo fue la colonización, es fácil power that is so inequitable, as was colonization, 572 it’s easy inventar historias que la gente cree sobre como el poder de, de, de [.] to invent histories/stories that people believe about as/like the power of/from, of/from, of/from 573 Ana: ¿De dónde viene? From where it comes? 506 574 T: Viene, ejerce su, su, su función y por ejemplo, da un ejemplo, dice It comes, exercises it’s, it’s, it’s function and for example, giving an example, it says 575 que por ejemplo [.] e:—ese dato yo no lo sabía hasta que leí el libro. that for example 576 and—that that I didn’t know until I read the book. Que en la época de—o sea, que este fenómeno empieza a ceder ya The in the period from—that is, that this phenomenon begins to readily yield 577 en el proceso de la descolonización precisamente porque ya la salida in the process of decolonization precisely because the oncoming exit 578 de los europeos le da la otra margen. Ya hay una generación de of the Europeans is giving way. 579 Already there is a generation of africanos que ya, de alguna forma han tenido contacto con la Africans that already, of some form have had contact with 580 medicina moderna. Y lógicamente ahora ya, es decir, [.] ir ya a un modern medicine. And logically [of course] now, it’s to say, [.] to go to a 581 hospital no es la misma crisis que era: a principios de la colonización hospital is not the same crisis that it wa:s at the beginnings of colonization 507 582 para la mayoría de la gente, ¿no? Por más ruralizada o por más for the majority of people, right? For [the] more ruralized or for [the] more Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 570-582 Again, Ana’s forethought or alignment with the professor, enables or encourages the professor to complete the statement on the emergence of a bloodsucker in the public imagination in Latin America and Africa. In this portion of the conversation, a connection is being made between the emergence of vampire phenomena and their contexts within powerscapes of heightened inequality, such as that of colonization. It is to this effect that the professor remarks: ‘…a veces cuando se genera una relación de poder que es tan inequitativa, como lo fue la colonización, es fácil inventar historias que la gente cree sobre como el poder…’ (lines 570-572 above). For these same reasons, with the process of decolonization, ‘este fenómeno empieza a ceder ya’ (lines 576-577), this phenomena of the colonial vampire already begins to yield and give way. The manner in which the notion of the colonial vampire emerges from popular belief provides a contrast to the strategic invention of supernatural beings by authoritarian leadership, for the purposes of controlling of a population. On this subject, the professor discusses the emergence of a Lake Victoria monster during the time of Idi Amin’s leadership in Uganda in the 1970s. 508 Excerpt 22: 582 T: para la mayoría de la gente, ¿no? Por más ruralizada o por más for the majority of people, right? For [the] more ruralized or for [the] more 583 alejada a la vida urbana que haya. [.] Pero, dice que en el caso de: distant from the urban life that way. [.] But, it says that in the case o:f 584 Uganda, en la época de los setenta, es la época de Idi Amín [.] la Uganda, in the period of the seventies, it’s the period of Idi Amin [.] the 585 gente volvió a pensar que había un tipo chupasangres pero en este people returned to thinking that there was a type [of] chupasangre but in this 586 caso no eran seres humanos. Que era un tipo de lagarto, que surgía case they weren’t human beings. That is was a type of lizard, that arose 587 del lago, del Lago Victoria y de los ríos. Y que en las noches atacaba a from the lake, from Lake Victoria and the rivers. And that in the nights it was attacking 588 la gente. Pero luego se piensa que, dado que era un régimen tan people. But then it was thought that, given that it was a regime so 589 represivo el ugandés, se piensa que era el mismo estado de Idi Amín repressive the Ugandan, it was thought that it was the same state of Idi Amin 590 fue creando el mito, para explicar tantos desaparecidos por repres[ión [that] was creating the myth, in order to explain so many disappeared by 591 S: [A::h. 509 592 T: política. Entonces, el chupacabras mexicano, no sé, bueno Luna, tú political repression. So/then, the Mexican chupacabras, I don’t know, well Luna, you Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 582-592 In this talk segment, the description of the monster as ‘un tipo de lagarto’ (line 586 above), a type of lizard, is prefaced by a statement of how Ugandans are said to have returned to thinking there were types of supernatural bloodsuckers during the 1970s, some years following Ugandan independence (1962). Even as these remarks already orient the listener toward an interpretation of the lake lizard as some sort of chupasangre incarnation (which seems to be the professor’s point in discussing this ‘lagarto’ in the context of ‘chupasangres’), the portrayal of the lake lizard as a creature ‘que surgía del lago, del Lago Victoria y de los ríos’ (lines 586-587) and that ‘en las noches atacaba a la gente’ (lines 587-588), assembles an image similar to that of the nocturnal firefighters; a marauding nighttime murderer. After this description comes the assessment of this supernatural lizard as a machination of the state regime: ‘Pero luego se piensa que, dado que era un régimen tan represivo el ugandés, se piensa que era el mismo estado de Idi Amín fue creando el mito, para explicar tantos desaparecidos por represión política’ (lines 588592). In essence, probably sometime after these beliefs subsided, it was thought that, given that the regime under Idi Amin was described as being extremely repressive, it was thought that the regime had itself been the creator of the myth, in order to explain away so many disappearances due to the political repression. Similarly, the regime of Carlos Salinas is understood to have disseminated stories of chupacabras to numerous politically motivated deaths and disappearances some twenty years later in 1990s Mexico. 510 Excerpt 23: 593 T: has de haber estado bien chavita, ¿No? Sí, verdad. Este: el you [were] really young [by then] [weren’t you]? Yes, [totally]. U:h the 594 chupacabras mexicano surgió si mal no me equivoco en los últimos Mexican chupacabras arose if I’m not incorrect 595 años del presidente Salinas. [.] Entonces es que se dice que se creó years of President Salinas. 596 in the final So/then it’s that it’s said that it was believed esto para distraer a la población de lo que estaba pasando this in order to distract the popuation from what was happening 597 políticamente, ¿no? Porque era una época muy complicada, que politically, right? 598 Because it was a very complicated period, that aunque había todavía un fuerte poder político del partido, del PRI, although there was still a strong political power of the party, of the PRI, 599 este:, pues, mataron a un candidato del PRI. O sea era una época u:h, well, they killed a candidate of the PRI. That is it was a period 600 medio pesadita. Y entonces de repente surgió que: en las rancherías [a] little nightmarish. And so/then suddenly it arose tha:t in the ranches 601 y en las zonas rurales, aparecía mucho ganado sobre todo caprino, and in the rural areas, it appeared many herds above all goats, 602 por eso, por eso se llamaba chupacabras, muerto, pero que no podía because of that, because of that it was called chupacabras, dead, but that it couldn’t 511 603 ser un perro, que no podía ser un lobo que porque [.] y entonces [have] been a dog, that it couldn’t [have] been a wolf because [.] and so/then 604 empezaron a decir que era ((whispers)) un extraterrestre. ((normal they started to say that it was 605 an extraterrestrial. voice)) O sea que el chupacabras era un ser extraterrestre. Entonces That is that the chupacabras it was a extraterrestrial being. So/then 606 ahí sí había gente que dizque tomaba fotos, pero no sé si han visto there [in that place] yes there were people that supposed they had taken photos, but I don’t know if they had seen 607 los programas estos de OVNIS o de . the programs these of UFOs or of Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 593-607 In the case of ‘el chupacabras mexicano’ (lines 593-594 above), which emerged during the final years of the Salinas presidency, it is said that the phenomena was created in order to distract the population from what was occurring politically, particularly in the political party, PRI, or Partido Revolucionario Institutional (Institutional Revolutionary Party). 25 The chupacabras was especially active in ‘las rancherías y en las zonas rurales’ (lines 600-601), the ranches and rural areas, where a number of goats were killed, hence the name chupacabras. The intriguing aspect !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 25 The PRI is today known as a conservative party on the Mexican political scene. At the time of this classroom discussion, the current president of Mexico was Felipe Calderón (2006-2012) of the Partido Acción Nacional (PAN, or National Action Party). The PAN was considered more left-leaning than the PRI, though not the most liberal party. In the elections of 2012, the PRI returned to presidential power with the succession of Enrique Peña Nieto, the first PRI president in some 12 years. PRI had previously dominated Mexican politics for 71 years. 512 of the incidents was that ‘no podía ser un perro, que no podia ser un lobo’ (lines 602-603), it couldn’t have been a dog or a wolf, leading to the belief that it was an extraterrestrial creature. This last detail is communicated to the students through a whisper, adding to the air of mystery the professor appears to be deliberately creating in the telling of this account of the chupacabras as if it were a story unto itself. To sum, this third ethnographic vignette provides evidence of how Swahili-focused talk episodes are initiated by the professor, as community expert and institutional authority, within a Spanish-language frame to verify the qualifications of other classroom community members, and allow for their legitimate peripheral participation. In these Swahili-focused talk episodes, particularly where the interactional sequence begins with or involves a query as to the Spanish equivalent or explanation of the Swahili lexical item (e.g., ‘¿Qué es ‘wachinjaji’?’, line 527 above), the sequence is completed when a judgment is rendered by the professor as to the validity of the Spanish equivalent supplied by the students. Such interactional sequences are IRE sequences—interaction, response, evaluation—which are well documented in teacher-directed language classrooms (e.g., Arthur & Martin, 2006; Lightbown & Spada, 2011). In the case of the second ethnographic vignette above, which centered around the introduction and discussion of the Swahili term wazimamoto, this judgment manifests in the form of an exclamatory, vocallystressed repetition of the target lexical item—an approving response: ¡Wazimamoto! (line 243 above). Also present in the professor’s response to that particular student performance was a remark indicating how the requisite Swahili-language knowledge implicated in their satisfactory performance was expected to be an existing aspect of their preparation for the present class (see lines 243-244 above). 513 These same expectations are communicated again by the professor as part of Swahilifocused talk episodes that feature in this third ethnographic vignette. For example, the introduction of mumiani into the classroom discussion is accomplished through a sort of guessing game the professor initiates by telling the students that there is a word in Swahili that needs to essentially be produced by them at that particular point in the conversation. ‘Hay una palabra en swahili…’ (lines 415-416 above), the professor begins, going on to identify this word’s relationship with ‘el bloodsucker’ in the English, and ‘el chupasangre’ in the Spanish (line 417 above). As in the wazimamoto episode, the reveal of the word (here, mumiani) is accomplished in part with a reminder of how Swahili-language knowledge is a prequisite to the classroom discussion, and a high expectation of the professor. This expectation is communicated in the mumiani episode when the professor draws attention to their own categorization of students based upon their performance in ‘los estudios de swahili’ (lines 418-419 above). Within the mumiani episode the temporary focus on the most advanced student reveals that the stratification among the classroom actors goes beyond the expert/novice dichotomy. 26 Later on, in the wachinjaji episode, the manner in which explicit reference is made to the plural prefix, a feature of Swahili nouns, as well as nouns across Bantu languages, again displays a strong expectation that such linguistic details are known quantities in the classroom community. Concerning wachinjaji, ‘…ya saben…’ (line 518 above), says the professor, indicating that the present mention is only an addendum to what is thought to be previously acquired knowledge. Party to these Swahili-focused talk episodes are discussions of the sociohistorical implications of these Swahili terms as they relate to similar processes of colonization, !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 26 I can also divulge here that even as some of the students did personally consider their counterpart to be more proficient in the language, it was my observation that the students, for the most part, were similar in their oral production ability. This occurred even as the student is heard to jokingly deny their greater status in the classroom. 514 exploitation, and political power struggles in and across African and Latin American contexts; tracing the phenomena of the bloodsucking chupasangre, details of Uganda’s politically repressive past are juxtaposed with the more recent particulars of Mexico’s authoritarian regime. Throughout all of these discussions, Swahili-language knowledge remains a defining characteristic of this classroom as a multilingual community of practice, additionally well versed in English and French, both requisite languages for admission into the African Studies program. In this way, knowledge of English and French are also taken for granted within the community, leading to the assignment of numerous English-language readings, such as Speaking with vampires. Even so, ability in the Swahili language affords a particular status within the program, for it is the language that learners must successfully acquire in order to support their study of (East) Africa. In the next (and fourth) ethnographic vignette below, the class becomes engaged in a Swahili-focused talk episode related to the painting of Les simba bulaya featured on the cover of the book Speaking with vampires. This painting is later the subject of additional discussion relating to a student’s project in the Swahili-language course. The fourth ethnographic vignette below also illustrates how multilingualism is displayed in the classroom, as a singular statement in English appears to be directed towards me, the researcher (the only first-language speaker of English), while the surrounding conversation occurs in Spanish. Ethnographic Vignette #4: ‘Les simba bulaya’ on the Book Cover In this ethnographic vignette, the professor directs attention to the cover of the book Speaking with vampires, which they have been engaging all throughout this class period. The book’s cover features a painting of two pale-skinned men dressed in long, buttoned-up, black trenchcoats and black firemen’s hats or helmets, pointing off into the rightmost distance of the 515 open, natural landscape that is accented by roofed, windowed buildings on either side of an unpaved road. On the lefthand side of the painting, off to the side of the road, a brown-skinned man is seated, his waist clothed in a garment, with adornments at the wrists and legs. In the lower righthand corner of the scene are painted the words LES SIMBA BULAYA above the artist’s signature (see Figure 23 below). Excerpt 518: 629 T: ¿No? [.] E inclusive digo por ejemplo si ustedes ven la portada del Right? And including I say for example if you all look at the cover of the 630 libro, que la próxima clase les voy a traer, este, este libro es, digamos, book, which [in] the next class I’m going to bring you all, this, this book is, let’s say, 631 no sé si alguna vez ---I don’t know if ever 632 27 o alguien, les ha este:, como se or someone, has u:h for you all, as llama, les ha mostrado pintura popular de—de—de Congo-Zaire. it’s called, has shown you all [a] popular painting from—from—from CongoZaire. 633 Pues bueno, porque esta pintura se ha hecho muy famosa en el Well okay, because this painting it has been made very famous in the 634 sentido de que son pintores que tratan de representar cosas sense of what are painters that try to represent !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 27 Some identifying information elided from this transcript. 516 635 históricas, que eso es interesante, ¿no? Cómo en [el siglo veinte historical things/subjects, which that is interesting, right? How in the twentieth century 636 Xim: [ De—de eso About—about that 637 es de lo que estoy haciendo ahora el trabajo de swahili. Pero no sé si is from what I’m doing now [in] the work of Swahili. But I don’t know if 638 será de él, pero uno de ellos es Cherí Sambá que es muy famoso. Y it’s of him, but one of them is Chéri Samba who is very famous. And 639 el otro es Weko. O sea que hacen pintura como naïf en el Congo the other is Weko. That is that they make/do paintain like naïf en the Congo 640 641 [ T: [Especialmente Shumba, este es muy famoso. Especially Shumba, this is very famous. 642 Xim: A:h. 643 T: De hecho en la próxima clase les traigo un libro que son puros In fact 644 in the next class I’ll bring you all a book that are solely cuadros de él. Y este cuadro en realidad es la representación de pictures of/from him. And this picture in reality is the representation of 645 cómo se concibe el fenómeno. O sea se supone que son, este:, how it is conceived the phenomenon. That is it is supposed that they are, u:h, Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 30 2011, lines 629-645 517 Figure 23. Front cover of Speaking with vampires: Rumor and history in colonial Africa, by Luise White (2000). The painting featured on the cover of Speaking with vampires is discussed here in relation to a larger body of artistic works, particularly popular in the contemporary Democratic Republic of the Congo for their depiction of historic subject matter. The particular artwork featured on the book’s cover is regarded by the professor as especially famous in the sense that the artist, is one 518 of those ‘que tratan de representar cosas históricas’ (lines 634-635 above) (that tries to represent historical things/subjects). The artwork is also important for its depiction of how the phenomenon of the bloodsucking firefighter was conceived during the colonial period: ‘Y este cuadro en realidad es la representación de cómo se concibe el fenómeno’ (lines 644-645). The initial focus on the painting is responded to by Ximena, who jumps into the conversation to share how this artwork relates to a project of her own, for the Swahili-language course, on other 28 Congolese painters. That this portion of the talk overlaps (lines 635-636) displays the strong interest Ximena had in sharing an anecdote on her concurrent, related coursework in Swahili language, and personal interest in these ‘naïf’ (line 639) artworks—artistic, yet often, simplistically descriptive depictions. At the same time, the conversational space that Ximena creates here is short-lived and overtaken by the professor’s re-entry. In this, the professor limits Ximena’s authority, and is able to demonstrate a greater familiarity with such artwork, particularly in the mention of an owned book. In Ximena’s contribution to the discussion can be found an indication of how training in the Swahili language is implicated in the study of Africa, and vice versa, which is reminiscent of the discussion on the oral exam in the Swahili-language class. The interrelation between training in Swahili language and the study of African history within the Mexico City African studies program is perhaps well illustrated in the Swahili-focused talk episode that stems from the attention focused on the painting featured on the book cover of Speaking with vampires. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 28 In this African history class, students regularly contributed to the discussion or answered the professor’s questions without raising their hands, though in some cases, students would raise their hands or index finger while another was concluding their remarks to indicate they wated to comment. 519 Excerpt 24: 650 T: noche solo y los van capturando y les extraen la sangre. Y entonces only [at] night and they captured them and extracted blood from them. And then 651 es—e::: este, digamos en swahili de Shaba, esto se llama ‘Les simba it’s—u:::h uh, let’s say in Shaba Swahili, 652 bulaya’. [.] ¿‘Bulaya’ de qué viene? bulaya’. 653 this is called ‘Les simba From where does ‘bulaya’ come? Jaz: Ulaya.// Europe. 654 Xim: //Ulaya.// Europe. 655 T: //Ulaya. Europe. 656 S: Mmhmm. 657 T: Entonces es ‘los leones [.] ¿?’// So/then it’s ‘the lions [.] ?’ 658 Ana: //Los [leones europeos. The European lions. 659 Xim: [Los leones europeos. The European lions. 660 T: Pero no leones en el sentido de [1.0] si no que son predadores. But not liones in the sense of 520 rather that they are predators. 661 662 Ana: Mmhmm. T: Entonces, este: pues bueno, este es una investigación muy So/then, 663 u:h well good, this is a research/investigation very interesante y les digo, es muy interesante porque abarca las partes interesting and I tell you all, it’s very interesting because it touches upon 664 lingüísticas, las partes de los épocas coloniales y las the linguistic parts/components, the parts/components of the colonial periods and the 665 percepciones que hay sobre la medicina europea, ¿no? perceptions that there are regarding European medicine, right? Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 650-665 It is the words painted into the artwork on the book cover that the professor is concerned with, ‘Les simba bulaya’ (line 651-652 above), and identifies as Shaba Swahili, a dialect spoken in the Congo (see Fabian, 1986, for more details on Shaba Swahili). The latter of these Shaba words becomes the focus of the talk when the professor poses a question as to its etymology, asking, ‘¿‘Bulaya’ de que viene?’ (line 652), where does bulaya come from? Very quickly, the students reply one after the other with the key Swahili word encoded in the term, the word Ulaya, referring to the landmass of Europe, and evidently the response the professor was anticipating, for it is reproduced in a latched rejoinder, ‘Ulaya’ (line 655). Thus, this teacher-led intervention instigates a rendering of Shaba Swahili into Standard Swahili, a meaningful detail because it relates to the African studies program’s focus on the acquisition of Standard Swahili as opposed to other varieties of the language. While the students may not be expected to 521 specifically understand other Swahili varieties (which may vary hugely from Standard Swahili), they should be fundamentally aware of the Standard Swahili lexicon. This may be why the initial question asked is regarding the origin of the non-Standard word bulaya, as opposed to its meaning. The next phase of the interaction sees the professor endeavor to arrive at a full Spanish translation of the phrase from the painting LES SIMBA BULAYA. This begins in line 657 (above) when the professor scaffolds student understanding by constructing an elicitation or fill-in-theblank statement ending in rising intonation, which invites a student response. The two students most prominent in the classroom discussion that day are the ones to answer the question, issuing overlapping responses that elaborate upon the translated phrase left previously incomplete, making ‘los leones europeos’ (lines 658, 659) out of ‘les simba bulaya’ (lines 651-652). Crucially, in this interactional sequence the students are not called upon to specifically translate the discrete word simba (lion) of the original phrase, or its accompanying determiner les (the). This reveals these words to be part of the background knowledge shared among this classroom community of practice, wherein members are competent in English, French, Spanish, and Standard Swahili. Building upon this linguistic knowledge, these European lions can be understood as a local, Congolese permutation of the vampire-firefighter. And this is something that continues to impress the professor about the research detailed in Speaking with vampires; that the book covers such ‘partes lingüísticas’ (lines 663-664) (linguistic parts/components) is what makes it ‘muy interesante’ (lines 662-663), very interesting and valuable. In summary, this fourth of five ethnographic vignettes presented in this chapter’s section on the engagement of vampires in the African history classroom in Mexico City, further reveals how Swahili-language knowledge is an important feature of the intellectual and social space of 522 this community of practice. Without this knowledge, the participation of learners (or the vocalization thereof) is limited within this community. Observable here, and in other talk featured throughout this chapter, is how Swahili words and phrases factor into the classroom discussion without becoming the language of instruction. Importantly, this treatment of Swahili largely mirrors the orientation toward the language in the Swahili-language course, which meets daily throughout the semester in which this course in African history convenes. In both of these classrooms, which are linked by the same cohort of learners, Swahili is regarded as an object of linguistic and cultural study, and is not the predominant mode of communication. In both classrooms, texts incorporating English are used—here, it is Speaking with vampires, there, it may be an English-Swahili dictionary, or an English-based language textbook—and talk is largely accomplished through Spanish (even when the instructors may not be native speakers of Spanish, though all of the African studies faculty have ability in Swahili). It could also be argued here that there is room within the African history class for Swahili to be used as a medium of instruction, possibly intermittently, given that all of the classroom actors have proficiency in the language. However, this does not ever occur (such that I was able to observe it), and it may relate to the widespread practice of using Spanish as a medium of instruction in many courses throughout area studies at the university. At one time, it was described to me by a university student that on occasion a content course might be taught in English if the professor, likely not a native speaker of Spanish, elected to do so. Severally, I did ask administrators and professors in African studies and other area studies faculty about the existence of any policies on medium of instruction or prescriptive guidelines on language use in the language classroom, and I was told that there were no rules in place. This leads me to consider each classroom space as its own potentially idiosyncratic linguistic ecology, where any 523 number of factors may contribute to interaction among classroom actors, even as this space functions within a larger academic community. In the final ethnographic vignette I present below in excerpt from the classroom discussion of colonial vampires in eastern Africa, linguistic identities are displayed throughout, in a manner that bespeaks a multilingual ecology. Ethnographic Vignette #5: Popo Bawa and the ‘Vampiros de la Habana’ In this final ethnographic vignette, I present evidence of how the discussion concerning vampire-firefighters concludes with a focus on the Swahili moniker Popo Bawa and its relation to the colonial phenomena. In the end, the Popo Bawa becomes the subject of a joke that engages the entire classroom in a good deal of laughter—but this occurs much later in the interaction, after the vampiros de la Habana receive consideration. Excerpt 25: 684 T: Ahora, los rumores siguen existiendo en todos lados, y Now, the rumors continue existing everywhere, 685 and supongo—y ya les platiqué yo, seguro, o si no lo hice yo, seguro I suppose—and as I’ve already told you, surely, or if I didn’t, surely 686 algún día lo habrán visto en swahili, el tema del Popo Bawa, que es some day you all will have seen it in Swahili, the issue/subject of the Popo Bawa, which is 687 exactamente un deriv—o sea, es la misma historia pero con un exactly a deriv—that is, it’s the same story/history but with a 524 688 diferente fenómeno. ¿Ustedes sí se saben la historia del Popo Bawa, diferent phenonemon. You all yes you all know the story/history of the Popo Bawa 689 no? [1.0] Esa es contemporánea. [.] Digo ahorita en Tanzania no sé si right? 690 That is contemporary. I say now in Tanzania I don’t know if siga de moda pero hace tres, cuatro años, era la comida del día. A it’s still in voigue but three, four years ago, it was popular. 691 ver, ¿qué es el Popo Bawa? [2.0] ¿Sí saben que es popo, popo es Let’s see, what is the Popo Bawa? [2.0] Yes you all know what is bat, bat is 692 un animal? an animal? 693 Xim: No.// 694 T: //¿Popo? [1.0] Bat? 695 Lun: Es el [1.0] It’s the 696 697 Ana: ((laughs)) T: Ah, el pop—el popo es un animal que tiene alas. Que tiene sus Ah, the ba—the bat is an animal that has wings. That has its 698 orejas así, y que es un mamífero. Y que vuela. Y que anda de noche. ears like this, and that is a mammal. And that flies. And that goes about at night. 525 699 Xim: ¿El murciélago?// The bat? 700 T: //((raised voice)) ¡El murciéla[go! The bat! 701 Lun: [El murciélago The bat 702 703 Ana: ¡Ah! [1.0] ((lau[ghs)) T: [¿Y qué quiere decir ‘Popo Bawa’? Ubawa, bawa. And what [is meant by] ‘Popo Bawa’? Wing, wings. 704 29 [2.0] Ahorita le voy a decir a ---Soon 705 I’ll say to alas. ((writes on whiteboard)) [1.0] O sea, Popo Bawa quiere decir That is, Popo Bawa is meant to say ‘murciélago grande’, ‘murciélago con alas grandes’. big bat, 707 que, ¿qué onda? Bawa, ---- and to ---- what, what the hell? Wings, wings. 706 30 y a ---- bat with big wings. Ana: Ah. Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 684-707 Some 45 minutes into the hour-long class period, in the wake of the prior discussion of the historical vampires, a contemporary Tanzanian relation to the colonial phenomena is entered into the conversation by the professor. The subject of the Popo Bawa is something that the professor expects that if the students are not already familiar with it, by way of previous sessions !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 29 Some identifying information elided from this transcript. 30 See note above. 526 of this course, they will eventually see it in some Swahili-related discourse: ‘…seguro algún día lo habrán visto en swahili, el tema del Popo Bawa…’ (lines 685-686 above). That being said, there does appear to be an expectation that the word popo (bat) is common knowledge, as well as bawa (wings): before the question comes as to the specific meaning of popo in line 694, the professor invites confirmation that the students know what Popo Bawa is (lines 688-689), and later that popo refers to an animal: ‘¿Sí saben que es popo, popo es un animal?’ (lines 691-692) (Yes you all know what popo is, popo is an animal?). What follows next in the interaction provides an example of how the professor responds to the students being unable to display the necessary Swahili-language knowledge. To the confirmatory question, Ximena provides a negative response (line 693), the only observed reply in the audio recording. But this proves unsatisfactory, and the professor immediately counters with a repeat of the target lexical item in the form of another question (line 694). After a silence, and an aborted attempt at a response by Luna, there next appears to be some delayed laughter (line 696) potentially in response to this repetition of popo, likely in reference to the meaning of the similar-sounding Spanish popo having relation to feces and/or human waste, but this doesn’t prevent the professor from pushing the students to engage the Swahili popo further. This is accomplished by scaffolding students’ responses through a series of descriptive hints. Akin to the progression of the interactional sequence driving the mumiani talk episode, the continued discussion of popo is fueled by the professor’s unwillingness to immediately reveal its Spanish equivalent, ‘el murciélago’ (lines 699-701) or bat. Rather, the professor chooses to issue a few hints pertaining to the animal: it’s a winged-animal, with ears like this, that is a mammal, that flies, and that goes about at night (lines 697-698). The delivery of these details as discrete statements communicates that these are actually clues meant to aid in 527 the deduction of the Spanish equivalent. That is, these clues create space for a student to come in at the end of any of these statements to give the Spanish translation. But the arrival at ‘el murciélago’ (lines 699-701) which, it may be noted, is tentatively delivered in a rising intonation, is not where this episode of talk concludes, for the professor remains concerned with the entirety of the phrase ‘Popo Bawa’ (line 703). It is newly expected that, with popo now decoded, a Spanish equivalent can now be articulated. However, this expectation survives for all of about two seconds, during which there is no answer forthcoming. Afterwards, the professor concludes that the students are unfamiliar with the Swahili word bawa (wings), even in its singular form ubawa (wing) (line 703), and expresses, somewhat jokingly, displeasure with the Swahili instruction the students have been receiving. Says the professor, ‘Ahorita le voy a decir a [instructors’ names] que, ¿qué onda?’ (line 704), amounting to soon I’m going to say to them what, what the hell? It should be noted 31 here that the tone transmitted by the use of ¿qué onda? is a lighthearted, playful one, and the critique of the Swahili-language course does not appear to be the main objective of this interlude. Rather, what appears to be sufficiently accomplished here is a mild scolding of the students for their shortcoming, and an intimation of the importance of their preparation in Swahili language, and its link to the study of East African phenomena. Shortly thereafter, the words Popo Bawa are written on the whiteboard by the professor, who also supplies its Spanish equivalents ‘murciélago grande’ (big bat), and ‘murciélago con alas grandes’ (big-winged bat) (line 706). The talk episode concludes with Ana’s expression of ‘Ah’ (line 707), acknowledging these Spanish equivalents as newly acquired knowledge. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 31 In addition to communicating a meaning of surprised curiosity akin to a colloquial delivery of the English what the hell? The Spanish phrase ¿qué onda? can also transmit a greeting similar to an informal how are you? or what’s up? 528 Subsequent to the lexically-focused talk on Popo Bawa, more is said with regards to what this big-winged bat actually is or was. Some six years previous (probably around 2004), in Zanzibar and Dar es Salaam—major locations within Tanzania—the Popo Bawa emerged as something of a vampire, though it was a separate phenomena from the colonial bloodsuckers that preceded it. Recounting this explanation, the professor continued thus: Sería como un vampiro, pero ojo, ojo, ojo. Este no chupa sangre. Este no chupa sangre. Pero fue un fenómeno interesante porque hasta hubo canciones y hasta hubo cuestiones— se empezó a creer, tanto en Zánzibar como en Dar es Salaam y en las costas, que en las noches había un ser extraño, este animal, pero es una cosa rarísima, porque este no chupa sangre, este no tiene nada que ver con el chupasangre. Que es pues como parte hombre, parte: murciélago. Que es del tamaño de un ser humano, y en las noches anda vagando en las villas o en los barrios, y se mete en las casas que están descuidadas o abiertas, y viola [.] es violador. (Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 710-720) It was like a vampire, but watch out, watch out, watch out. This doesn’t suck blood. This doesn’t suck blood. But it was an interesting phenomena because there were even songs and there were even issues/controversies—it began to be believed, so much in Zanzibar as in Dar es Salaam and on the coasts, that in the nights there was a strange being, this animal, but it is a very strange thing, because this doesn’t suck blood, this has nothing to do with el chupasangre. That it’s well like part man, part bat. That it’s the size of a human being, and in the nights [it] goes about wandering in the small towns or in the 529 neighborhoods, and enters itself into the homes that are unwatched or open, and rapes [.] it’s [a] rapist. The statement that the Popo Bawa is considered a ‘violador’ (line 720), a rapist, appears to have some impact on the listening students. Particularly so, when it is subsequently explained that the supernatural animal is understood to only target men for these sexual acts. Excerpt 26: 720 T: que están descuidadas o abiertas, y viola [.] es violador. that are unwatched or open, and rapes it’s [a] rapist. 721 Xim: Mm. 722 T: Pero solamente viola hombres. But only 723 rapes men. Ana: ¿¡Ah, sí!? ((laug[hs)) Ah, yes!? 724 T: [¡Este es el Popobawa!, y [el tema es que también [.] This is the Popobawa!, and the issue is that also 725 Ana: [Ese fue alguien que vio That was someone who saw 726 Batman. Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 720-726 Perhaps appropriately, the figure of Batman (line 726 above) is mentioned as part of this conversation on the half-man, half-bat creature that shares the nocturnal schedule of the vampirefirefighters before it. And in response to the seemingly incredulous laughter of a student, denoted by the use of the affirmative sí in rising intonation with exclamatory tone, the professor excitedly 530 attests that this is the Popobawa! (line 724), though there remains more to be said on the subject. The professor continues on, seeming not to acknowledge Ana’s statement equating the Popobawa with a Batman character. Excerpt 27: 727 T: salió, salió—es decir que salió [ it came out, it came out—it’s to say that it came out 728 Xim: [Pero también puede ser una manera, But also 729 at least [with what], [with] the experience in Cuba, puede ser una manera de explicar o de encubrir actividades ilícitas en it could be a way 731 of explaining or of covering up illicit activities in determinados lugares como puede ser en este caso incluso la certain 732 way, bueno—bueno, al menos por lo que, por la experiencia en Cuba, well—well, 730 it could be a places like it could be in this case inclusive [of] [homosexualidad. homosexuality. 733 T: [¡Claro! ¡Claro! Of course! Of course! 734 Xim: Porque:, allá en Cuba es muy común, por ejemplo, en los pueblos de Because, there in Cuba it’s very common, for example, in the 735 campo [.] que: hay hasta trabajos de eso, de fantasmas. Ay no, o sea rural towns [.] that there are even works of that, of ghosts. Oh not, that is, 531 736 los fantasmas que salían por las noches y en realidad los fantasmas the ghosts 737 that come out at night and in reality the ghosts no eran otra cosa que, mujeres que tenían amantes y entonces esos they weren’t anything other than, women that had lovers and so/then those 738 amantes se vestían de fantasmas y entraban [a sus casas a tener lovers dressed themselves [as] ghosts and they entered their homes to have 739 Ss: [((laughs)) 740 Xim: sexo// sex 741 Lun: //¿¡En serio!? ((laughs)) Seriously/Really!? 742 Xim: Sí. Yes. 743 Ana: ((laughs)) Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 727-743 Here, as before, it appears that the examination of African phenomenon, in this case the Popo Bawa of coastal Tanzania, enables a closer analysis of the Latin American, and particularly Cuban, experience with power, inequality and transitional change. The Popo Bawa is interpreted by Ximena as a possible means of explaining homosexual or taboo behavior in society, as in the case of the ‘fantasmas’ (line 735 above) (ghosts) of the Cuban countryside that were employed to disguise extramarital affairs and nighttime sexual encounters. Ximena elaborated further on the subject of these fantasmas: 532 Excerpt 28: 744 Xim: Hay un trabajo de eso de una muchacha que se graduó de—de There is a [research] work of that by a girl who graduated from—from 745 historia que hizo un trabajo de eso. De los fantasmas en los pueblos. history who did that work [of research]. Of the ghosts in the towns. 746 Y los fantasmas era en realidad una manera de la gente decir, o sea And the ghosts were in reality a 747 way of people saying, that is de justificar, tanto los hombres que sabían que sus mujeres le of justifying, so many men 748 pegaban los tarros 32 that knew that their women/wives como de las mujeres que era infieles que decían, were being unfaithful as/like the women/wives who were unfaithful that said, 749 ‘Ay, en fin, es que un fantasma se mete en la casa y entonces viola a ‘Oh, well/in the end, it’s that a ghost enters itself in the house and then rapes 750 mi mujer o copula con mi [mujer.’ O cosas así. my woman/wife or copulates with my woman/wife.’ Or things like that. 751 Lun: [¡¿Có:mo: cre:es?!// How do/could you believe [it]?! 752 Xim: En realidad eran queridos de mujeres o amantes de mujeres que se In reality they were beloved of women or lovers of women that !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 32 I was informed that the phrase pegaban los tarros denotes the act of infidelity in Cuban Spanish. 533 753 metían en sus casas y estaban con ellas, así que supongo que esa were entering themselves in their houses and they were with them [women], just as I suppose that that 754 era alguna manera de encubrir la homosexualidad de determinados was some way 755 hombres que se acostaban con hombres [que después decían que men 756 of covering up the homosexuality of certain who were sleeping with men T: who afterwards said that [No y es que No and it’s that 757 Xim: eran violados.// they were raped. 758 Ana: //A lo mejor se disfrazaban en la noche y exacto también iban [.] [Maybe/perhaps] they were disguised at night and precisely also they were going 759 T: [Sí Yes 760 Xim: [Estos se disfrazaban// These were disguised 761 T: // Lo interesante [.] en ese sentido las sociedades africanas son What’s interesting [.] in that sense the African societies are 762 como, conservadoras parecidas a las latinas en el sentido de que por like/as, conservatories similar to the Latin [ones] in the sense of what 534 763 ejemplo for example Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 744-763 In relating details of the fantasmas, Ximena temporarily moves into a position of sharing expert knowledge. Ximena gets the floor for an extended turn at talk, with Luna’s questions directed to Ximena (line 741, 751) rather than the professor. Throughout, the professor has some trouble regaining the lead position despite multiple attempts, as displayed in overlapping talk (line 733, 756, 759). Once the professor secures a turn in line 761, at the crux of the commentary is a validation of Ximena’s contribution to the discussion. Interestingly here, in Ximena’s account the nocturnal activities of the fantasmas are described in much the same way as those of the Popo Bawa. Such activities are described using words like ‘se mete en la casa’ (enters itself into the house) and ‘viola’ (rapes) (line 749 above), which also appear in the professor’s earlier description of the Popo Bawa. In fact, it is said that men accounted for the sexual trysts of their partners by telling others how the nighttime ghost entered itself into the home and raped or copulated with their wives (lines 749-750). After it is explained by the student how the fantasmas were actually the deliberate creation of competing men (outfitted in bedsheets to simulate ghosts, it is revealed later on the conversation), the professor draws an explicit connection between the emergence of these phenomena in Africa and Latin America. This statement articulates what, is in all likelihood, a growing realization among the classroom actors, that there are parallels in African and Latin American responses to social phenomena, these rooted in similar (though different) historical events: ‘Lo interesante [.] en ese sentido las sociedades africanas son como, conservadoras parecidas a las latinas…’ (lines 761762). Essentially, the professor is remarking, with regard to the Tanzanian Popo Bawa and 535 Cuban fantasmas, that African societies are conservators or cultural repositories similar to Latin American societies. Excerpt 29: 852 T: todo. Es decir a partir de estudiar cómo se concibe el fenómeno del everything. It’s to say from studying how it was conceived the phenomenon of the 853 Popo Bawa como que puedes entender muchas—muchas cosas, Popo Bawa [as] 854 ¿no? [1.0] Que por cierto ya no tiene mucho que ver pero estaba right? 855 that you can understand many—many things, That for certain it doesn’t have much to [do with it] but I was acordando de aquella serie de animados o de películas de ‘Vampiros remembering that [old] series of animations or of films of ‘Vampires 856 en la Habana.’ in Havana.’ 857 Xim: ¡A:h, sí! ((short laugh)) A:h, yes! 858 T: La historia del vampisol, ¿no? 33 The story of the vampisol , right? 859 Xim: ¡Sí! Yes! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 33 Within the series Vampiros de la Habana, the term vampisol is the name for a formula that was developed by certain characters in order to allow a vampire to persist in daylight, without suffering the deleterious effects of the rays of the sun or sol. In the cartoon, the vampisol formula is used on this same vampire who aims to overthrow the Cuban government of the 1930s, which is characterized as a militarized dictatorship. 536 860 T: [ muy very 861 Xim: [Que también sale—que también sale esta—o sea, sale esto de, o That also produced—that also produced this—that is, produced this from—or 862 sea de—de que los vampiros se alimentan del trabajo de los that is of/from—of/from what the vampires were feeding [on] from working [in] the 863 hospitales. hospitals. 864 T: ((lau[ghs)) 865 Xim: [No recuerda la parte del hombre con el suero y debajo están los No remember the part [with] the man with the serum/blood and underneath the 866 vampiros, o [tomando como vino y están matando al hombre con el vampires, or drinking like wine and they are killing the man with the 867 T: [Sí. Yes. 868 Xim: suero. serum/blood. 869 T: ((laughs)) Y que además se supone que está ambientada en la Cuba And what’s more it’s supposed that it’s set in 537 870 prerrev[olucionaria, ¿no? pre-revolutionary Cuba, right? 871 Xim: En la década del 30, o sea en la lucha Yes. 872 [Sí. In the decade of the thirties, that is in the fight contra El Machadato y eso. against The Machadato 873 34 T: Esa se considera que es una pelíoula clásica sobre todo para los That is considered [as] a 874 and that. classic film animados latinoamericanos en una época en que no había muchos, Latin American animations in a 875 above all for the period in which there weren’t many, ¿no? Porque ahorita ya hay muchos ¿no? Cada país saca los suyos. right? Because right now there are many right? Every country [has] its own. 876 Sí, ((to Jamie)) to have cartoons, uh, in Latin America it was very Yes, 877 scarce. Very scarce. Y este era así como super novedoso y ya And this was like this super novel 878 and [now] luego pues uno la tenía ya en video. ¿No? Pero bue[no. then well one had it already in video. Right? But okay. Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 852-878 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 34 El Machadato is a period of Cuban history named for the presidency of Gerardo Machado, president of Cuba (1925-1933) following the Cuban War of independence in which Machado served as a military general. 538 As the conversation continues, with the professor further engaging Ximena on the subject, a connection is drawn between the Popo Bawa, the fantasmas, and the animated series Vampiros en la Habana (lines 852-856 above). This strikes an accord with Ximena, who responds positively (lines 857, 859), and returns the professor’s recollection of these old films with a reference to a particular detail of the series, that the vampires were feeding on the reserves of the hospitals: ‘de que los vampiros se alimenten del trabajo de los hospitales’ (lines 862-863). Further plot details of the film series are traded, and then the circumstances surrounding the films’ emergence in the 1930s are discussed; that the films debuted in pre-revolutionary Cuba is also noted (lines 869-872). Although there is another Cuban student among the class, throughout this stretch of talk, no other students are heard, suggesting that they are somewhat excluded from the discussion, possibly due to their lesser familiarity with the topic. What follows in the next portion of talk is remarkable, for it's the only extended use of English that I witnessed that day in the classroom, and it is directed at me, the participantobserver. Commenting on the old animated film Vampiros en la Habana, the professor states in Spanish that such animations were rare for the times. Then a switch is made into a marked language within this classroom space, English, and the statement directed at me, the only native speaker of English in the room, underscores the historical rarity of animations in Latin America: ‘Sí, to have cartoons, uh, in Latin America it was very scarce. Very scarce’ (lines 876-877). There is seemingly no intent for me to respond to this statement, because the professor moves directly into a Spanish comment to elaborate: ‘Y este era así como super novedoso…’ (line 877) (And this [the cartoons] was in that way like greatly novel/newfangled…). In these moments, the professor displays multilingual self-identity, and captures my primary, perceived identity as English-language speaker within this space. Not a member of the community, I can be addressed 539 outside of the unmarked Spanish frame, and everyone will know to whom the English-language comment is directed. This segment of the conversation also provides evidence that my presence in the classroom was noticed, and interpreted as a license for the use of English. 35 It is also possible that the professor’s intent was to clarify the point of there having historically been few cartoons in 1930s Latin America, given that I was a not a lifelong resident of Latin America. To a lesser extent was it a likely translation of Spanish for the purposes of easing my understanding of what was said previously in the language; the statements made in English do not represent a recapitulation of the Spanish before or after. Following the earlier student-initiated account of the fantasmas, and the observation of the similarities in African and Latin American societies with regard to such phenomena, the professor makes yet another overt display of social identity that reveals how the scholarly and multilingual selves are viewed. Excerpt 30: 759 T: // Lo interesante [.] en ese sentido las sociedades africanas son What’s interesting [.] in that sense the African societies are 760 como, conservadoras parecidas a las latinas en el sentido de que por like/as, conservatories similar to the Latin [ones] in the sense of what 761 [ejemplo for example !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 35 I experienced being addressed in English on another occasion in the African history course. On a separate day while the class was discussing in Spanish the book How Europe underdeveloped Africa, I was asked in English by the professor about my opinion regarding the book. I replied in English, and I think there may have been a small expectation that while I could understand the Spanish, that it would be easier for me to express my opinion in English. This would have been an accurate assessment, though it is safe to say that I would have been capable of delivering a statement in Spanish. 540 762 Lun: [ 763 Xim: [((to Luna)) Con sábanas. With [bed]sheets. 764 T: digamos pues yo cuando a mí me lo contaban, o sea, al principio lo let’s say well when they were telling me, that is, at the beginning 765 supe por una colega norteamericana, ella también era swahilista. I knew through a North American colleague, she also was [a] Swahilist. 766 Entonces ella me dijo ‘No es que está de moda eso.’ De hecho, de So/then she told me ‘No it’s that it’s in vogue that.’ In fact, 767 hecho ha generado interés en investigadores y se están publicando in fact it has generated interest in researchers and they are publishing 768 desde hace ya también tiempo artículos y hay investigaciones sobre since then already [there are] articles and there are investigations about 769 eso. Sobre todo en cierto sentido es porque es una historia parecida that. Above all in [a] certain sense it’s because it’s a similar story/history 770 yo no sé qué tanta repercusión tendrá porque cuando yo en 2008 ya I don’t know how much [of a] repercussion it will have because in 2008 when I 771 anduve por allí y preguntaba pues la gente lo tomaba de broma, ¿no? [was] going over there and I was asking well people were joking, right? 772 773 Ana: ((short laugh)) T: Hasta fíjense, yo haciéndola acá de que yo también me lo tomaba de [Look here], I’m doing it here of what also they were joking to me 541 774 broma, ¿no? Les decía ‘No, es que voy a cerrar bien mi puerta para right? I told them ‘No, it’s that I’m going to close well my door 775 que no se me vaya a aparecer el Popo Bawa’, ¿no? so that it won’t appear to me the Popo Bawa’, right? 776 Ana: ((Laughs)) Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 759-776 Parallel to the professor’s comment above as to the similarities in the social phenomena of African and Latin American societies, is a coinciding exchange between two students as to how the fantasmas were costumed. Comes the reply, ‘Con sábanas’ (line 763 above), revealing that the creative, extramarital lovers were draping themselves in bedsheets for their nighttime excursions, to aid in their being observed as ghost-like figures. The professor’s remarks overlap with this further detail of the fantasmas, as it is described how the Popo Bawa first came to be known to the professor, who was told by a North American—an American—colleague. This woman ‘también era swahilista’ (line 765), meaning that she was also a swahilista, a description that reflexively implicates the professor and displays a Swahilist identity, both an academic and linguistic distinction. Having found out about the Popo Bawa from this Swahilist colleague, and its being a popular topic among researchers for its resemblance to the colonial vampire accounts, the professor goes on to tell how a trip to Tanzania in 2008 opportuned an observation of the running joke at the time—that the winged creature was out to catch the unaware. The professor brought the banter back to Mexico, ‘haciéndola acá’ (line 773) (doing it specifically here), and now extends the joke for the benefit of the students. ‘Les decía “No, es que voy a cerra bien mi puerta para que no se me vaya a aparacer el Popo Bawa”, ¿no?’ (lines 774-775). The professor makes it 542 clear the joke or ‘broma’ (line 774) is a comedic performance, rather than a statement of personal truth, saying ‘les decía’ (line 774), I told them, as a preface to the main antic, something to the effect of: No, it’s that I’m going to close well my door so that it won’t appear to me the Popo Bawa, right? This joke effectively transmits the tongue-in-cheek aspect of the acknowledging the winged creature’s existence. A student’s laughter in line 776 afterward helps to validate this talk as playful and entertaining. 36 Later on, the joke is recapitulated somewhat in this same !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 36 Further evidence that the professor’s mention of the Popo Bawa is meant to be joking may be found in subsequent conversation, where the professor validates Ximena’s earlier speculation that the emergence of this phenomena was a likely social response to the negative perception of homosexual and extramarital affairs in local Tanzanian society, which is fairly conservative, and often religious. The joke is funny because it is generally now understood that there is no actually winged, supernatural creature, and that most likely sexual behavior (considered ilicit within local society) is being engaged in during the nighttime hours. This comes across in the professor’s response to the documented attestations of people having being violated by a supernatural creature; the professor laughingly asks ‘qué onda, ¿no?’ (line 800 below), finding great humor not in the act of rape, but at this socially accepted manner of depicting taboo behavior. 779 T: Entonces, pero por ejemplo lo más interesante es que evidentemente 780 tiene mucho elemento de análisis, independientemente de que a lo 781 mejor no tiene todavía una mitología tan particular, pero tiene 782 elementos de análisis porque tiene que ver con puntos muy sensibles, 783 Xim: Uh huh. 784 T: como la homosexualidad también. Porque es un animal que 785 solamente viola hombres. O sea, ya de esa concepción como que te 786 da mucho que decir. Y sobre todo en sociedades, en donde, como en 787 todas las sociedades, hay mucha homosexualidad, pero también hay 788 mucho tabú y hay mucho encubrimiento, ¿no? Es decir porque son 789 cosas que no se hablan tan abiertamente, son todavía muy 790 prejuiciadas, ¿no? Entonces en ese sentido pues era un fenómeno 791 porque sí salía en el periódico, ¿no? Hasta me decían que, pero lo 792 interesante, aquí por ejemplo igual, en toda la investigación dice que 793 los testimonios son de gente que cree que pasó, o gente que perdió 794 familiares y dijo ‘No, seguro fueron este: o sea, el tema de los, este:, 795 wazimamoto.’ Pero aquí, entrevistaban en radio y salían en 796 periódicos que decían que fueron violados por el ((laughing)) Popo 797 Bawa, ¿no? ((laughs)) 798 Ana: Mmhmm. 543 student’s declaration towards the end of the class period that the library’s copy of Speaking with vampires was stolen by the Popo Bawa. Excerpt 31: 927 T: este: si gustan, porque es lo que yo propuse en mi franco lo que u:h if you all like, because it’s what I proposed in my frankly what 928 me interesaría ahorita sería bueno, les encargo mi librito para que lo interested me [just] now was well, I entrust you [with] my [dear] book so that 929 fotocopien con calma. you all photocopy it with calm. 930 Xim: ¿Puedo tenerlo profesor? ((a chair is moved)) Can I have it professor? !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 799 T: O sea que salían y decían ‘Sí, es que me violó.’ Oye pues—pues 800 qué onda, ((laughing)) ¿no? O sea como que eso, digamos también 801 este, generó, un poco digamos este picardía si ustedes quieren, pero, 802 pero era interesante como en cierto sentido fue noticia, y cómo 803 también fue una cuestión colectiva, un rumor que que se hizo común. 804 Les digo, yo también al final ya me daba cuenta que mucha gente lo 805 tomaba también ya como broma, ¿no? 806 Ana: Yah. Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 779-806 In line 803 above, the witnesses to the Popo Bawa are interpreted by the professor as evidence of the larger social issues of the time, a relatively recent time (first decade of 2000s), as this ‘fue una cuestión colectiva, un rumor que se hizo común’ ([it] was a collective issue, a rumor that was made common/popular). 544 931 T: Y si quieren pueden revisar [.] Oigan, pero lo que no entendí, porque And if you all want you all can review [.] Listen you all, but I didn’t understand it, because 932 este libro está en la biblioteca, pero no está en// this book is 933 in the library, but it’s not in Jaz: //Como siempre. As/like always. 934 Xim: E—estaba, o sea, estaba y nosotros fuimos a buscarlo y todo. O sea, I—I was, that is, I was and we went to look for it and everything. That is, 935 está en el catálogo y todo lo demás pero no está ahí en la biblioteca it’s in the catalogue and everything 936 y// and 937 T: //¿Y preguntaron allí en el mostrador si—si [.]? And they asked there at the counter if—if 938 Xim: Preguntamos y fue incluso, o sea una bibliotecaria la que nos ayudó a We asked and it was including, that is a librarian she helped us to 939 buscarlo porque lo buscábamos y lo buscábamos y no lo look for it because we were looking for it and we were looking for it and 940 encontrábamos. Y:: [.] y ella nos dijo que allí estaba [.] pero que no we weren’t finding it. And [.] and she told us that there it was [.] but that 941 estaba. it wasn’t. 545 942 943 Ana: ((laughs)) T: O sea como que alguien lo había sacado. That is like/as someone had taken it. 944 Xim: No:: 945 Ana: No. El Popo Bawa se lo llevó. No. The Popo Bawa that took it. 946 T: ((whispers)) ¡El Popo Bawa! The Popo Bawa! 947 948 Ana: ((laughs)) T: Además, aquí, aquí nadie evidentemente sigue la práctica de What’s more, here, here no one evidently follow the practice of 949 esconder libros, ¿verdad? hiding books, right? 950 Xim: Yo creo que no, ((la[ughs)) pero I think not, 951 T: but [((laughs)) Bueno. [1.0] Pues porque, pues sí, se Okay. 952 Well because, well yes, me hace raro [. it makes me [feel] weird. Mexico City, African history class, 30 March 2011, lines 927-952 546 In this final excerpt from the classroom discussion of Speaking with vampires, there is some banter relating to the library’s copy of the book having gone missing before that day’s class. With the book missing, the students were unable to copy one of its chapters, which had been assigned for reading. This is something the professor appears to be sympathetic to, offering up a personal copy of the book ‘para que lo fotocopien con calma’ (lines 928-929 above), so that the students can take their time to photocopy it without panic. But an air of panic and frustration is exactly what select students describe as being their state after seeing the book listed as present in the library, though not on the shelf: ‘…lo buscábamos y lo buscábamos y no lo encontrábamos’ (lines 939-940). This occurrence of missing library books is evidently not so infrequent, for a student regards this present event as something ‘como siempre’ (line 933), like always, and the professor’s immediate suspicion is that someone deliberately removed the book from the shelf: ‘O sea como que alguien lo había sacado’ (line 943). This idea is not immediately taken up—in fact, it is explicitly denied (unless Ximena’s turn in line 944 can be understood as sarcastic). Instead, an alternative theory as to the library book’s disappearance is offered—that the Popo Bawa is the culprit. ‘No’, says the student, ‘El Popo Bawa se lo llevó’ (line 945). Recognized as a joke, a far-fetched hypothetical, this assertion receives a whispered, almost mysterious-sounding response from the professor, ‘¡El Popo Bawa!’ (line 946), which elicits laughter (line 947). It is then stated, in the form of a confirmatory question, that no one in the classroom is continuing in the practice of hiding books (lines 948-949), relating the highly competitive nature of the area studies program and the university at large, and the professor’s disapproval of the hiding of library books; books containing assigned readings have been absconded with before. 547 This is something the professor expresses a discomfort about, saying that it ‘se me hace raro’ (lines 951-952), [it] makes me [feel] weird/uneasy. In this final ethnographic vignette, there was ample evidence to support an interpretation of the Swahili-focused talk episode surrounding the contributing words of Popo Bawa as a singular example of how the relative roles of expert and novice in the classroom are reified through the (non)display of relevant Swahili-language knowledge. Too, there manifested an opportunity for a particular student, Ximena, to gain provisional authority through the recounting details of a Cuban phenomena related to the Tanzanian Popo Bawa, producing a temporary alignment between this student and the professor, who were together able to conjure images of the Vampiros de la Habana. Those moments in the dialogue led to the display of an Englishlanguage identity on the part of the professor, in which I was implicated as the classroom’s sole first-language speaker of English, and perceived L2 speaker of Spanish, the unmarked code for the setting (in addition to Swahili). As the conversation continued, with further commentary on the linked social reactions to taboo sexual relations in both African and Latin American society, the Popo Bawa was regarded as a fairly humorous innovation, creating space for its feature in a joke about the suspected removal of a library copy of Speaking with vampires intended for use by these students. In the content classroom, Swahili provides a means for assessing learner competence and readiness for the roles of expert swahilista, a role that only the professor formally occupies. From that role, requests for students to display Swahili-language ability are made, and students consistently comply by supplying Spanish translations in response. This method of languagefocused study of Africa would seem to work, for students are seen to variously participate. 548 However, in the final segment of this chapter I present data from a Swahili class with the same cohort of students that suggests this endeavor to be problematic for some of these students. The Essentializing of Africa Through the Euro-American Media and its Zombies In this section, I focus on the classroom conversation surrounding a student’s observation of the use of Swahili to animate African characters in the imaginary West African country of Kijuju in the internationally circulated videogame, Resident Evil 5. Leading up to this conversation, however, were a series of comments by both the students and their professor, that appear to have been inspired by a question the professor posed early on regarding the seemingly chaotic image of the African continent in the international eye, ‘¿Cómo se explica precisamente esta tendencia a que los, las democracias representativas sean tan poco visibles en el::, en el continente africano ¿no??’ (lines 832-834). Essentially, the professor was asking the students: How precisely [can] it be explained this tendency that the representative democracies should be little visible on the African continent, right? This question came after the class had begun working through and discussing part of Walter Rodney’s (1982 [1972]) text in translation, De cómo Europa subdesarrolló a África (How Europe underdeveloped Africa). Excerpt 32: 826 T: También, pues es que—es que eso se tendría que haber hecho desde un Also, 827 well it’s that—it’s that that would have had been done from a principio, pero bueno, ya saben que la, que la situación internacional es un beginning, but good/well, already you all know that the, that the international situation is a 549 828 poco, complicada ¿no? Pero volviendo al punto e::h la idea esa de que por little, complicated right? But returning to the point e::h that idea that of what 829 ejemplo, si ustedes, imagínense que ustedes tengan que dar, es decir, for example, if you all, imagine that you all have to give, it’s to say, 830 bueno, no necesariamente pero a estudiantes de relaciones well/okay, not necessarily but to students of 831 internacionales o ciencia política, los problemas o estructuras que hay en international relations or political science, the problems or structures that there are in 832 África, entonces bueno, ¿cómo se explica precisamente esta tendencia a Africa, so/then well, how precisely [can] it be explained this tendency 833 que los, las democracias representativas sean tan poco visibles en el::, en that the, the representative democracies should be so little visible on the, on 834 el continente africano ¿no?? O sea, se debe a la herencia colonial, se debe the African continent right? That is, [owing] to the colonial legacy, [owing] 835 a la educación marginal, se debe a::, a los problemas estructurales to the marginal education, [owing] to, to the 836 económicos, se debe a la ausencia de clases capitalistas, que digo ahorita structural economic problems, [owing] to the absence of capitalist classes, that I say now 837 ya se puede decir que hay una burguesía africana en muchos países, pero it can be said that there is an African bourgoisie in many countries, but 550 838 que está digamos en algunos casos, este:: consolidándose y porque that it’s let’s say in some 839 siempre [2.0] que esto también sería, digamos, interesante estudiar, en los always 840 cases, u::h it’s consolidating itself and because that this also it would be, let’s say, interesting to study, in the casos en que hay más estabilidad política no dejan de ser, países africanos cases in which there is more political stability they don’t let [it] be, African countries 841 con un, parti, no no digamos partidos únicos, pero sí partidos que siguen with a, part—no no let’s say one-parties, 842 siendo hegemónicos, que siguen siendo dominantes y clases políticas que being hegemonic, 843 that continue being dominant and political clases that no están teniendo digamos una, generacionalmente hablando una are not having 844 but yes parties that continue let’s say a, generationally speaking a transformación rápida. rapid transformation. Mexico City, African history class, 11 April 2011, lines 826-844 After posing the question of why ‘democracias representativas sean tan poco visibles en el::, en el continente africano’ (lines 833-834), the professor intimates that some contributing factors might be ‘la herencia colonial’ (line 834), the colonial legacy, ‘la educación marginal’ (line 835), the marginalization of education, or a poor quality of education, as well as ‘los problemas estructurales económicos’ (lines 835-836), the structural economic problems. Eventually, another explanation is furnished later in the conversation, centering on how the media is involved in projecting select images of the continent that are often violent and chaotic. 551 Excerpt 33: 929 T: Sí, [1.0] sí, porque es que, por ejemplo, digamos, que también digamos Yes, 930 yes, because it’s that, for example, let’s say, that also let’s say yo entiendo ¿no? En el escenario internacional sobre todo en los medios I understand right? On the international scene above all in the 931 informativos, lo que genera noticia pues son los caos, el—el caos [1.0] informative media, what generates news well is the chaos, the—the chaos 932 entonces por ejemplo cuando pasa un problema fuerte en África pues then 933 for example when it happens a serious problema in Africa well entonces eso sí es noticia ¿no? then/so that yes it’s news right? Mexico City, African history class, 11 April 2011, lines 929-933 As the professor remarks to the students about the sensationalization of violence and chaos of the international news scene, ‘En el escenario internacional sobre todo en los medios informativos, lo que genera noticia pues son los caos, el—el caos entonces por ejemplo cuando pasa un problema fuerte en África pues eso sí es noticia ¿no?’ (lines 930-933). The observation here that the news that most of the world receives about Africa is negative, is ‘caos’, is supplied as a reason why Africa appears to be mired in greater political devolution than perhaps is the true case. Ultimately, the students draw a parallel between such violence used to depict African countries, and the numerous violent and bloodied images in Mexican print media that follow growing levels of ongoing, drug-related violence in the country. 552 Excerpt 34: 950 Jaz: Del manejo de las noticias violentas. Of/from the handling of the violent news. 951 Nat: A::h. 952 Ana: Pero eso acaba de ser ¿no? But that [has] stopped being [the case] right? 953 T: Sí de las [.] Yes from/of the 954 Nat: que dice algo así de presentar a los narcos así como héroes ¿no? which says something like that about presenting the drug dealers like that like heroes, right? 955 De evitar, que ya no pueden presentar a los narcos como héroes. Avoiding [that], that now they can’t present the drug dealers as heroes. 956 Jaz: A::h las noticias. A::h 957 958 the news. Nat: Mmhmm. T: Sino también [.] But also 959 Jaz: ya está muy violenta la televisión. already it’s very violent the televisión. 960 Ana: No pero estas cosas de libertad de [.] No but these things of freedom of 553 961 T: Y es que es muy complejo eso ¿eh? And it’s that it’s very complex that eh? 962 Ana: la sociedad viendo tanta violencia. the society viewing so much violence. 963 Xim: A mí no me parece excesivo. To me it doesn’t seem 964 excessive. Ana: No, o sea porque la puedes, tienes puedes tener acceso a ella, la puedes No, that is because you can, you have you can have Access to it, you can 965 buscar por el Internet pero que diario un niño vea cincuenta descabezados, look for it with Internet but that daily a child may see fifty decapitated [people] 966 tres colgados, dos quemados, sí ya como que [.] three hanged, two burnt, 967 yes already as/like Jaz: Depende. It depends. 968 T: Es que yo creo que es complejo. It’s that I think that it’s complex. Mexico City, African history class, 11 April 2011, lines 950-968 In the Mexican news media or ‘las noticias’ (lines 950, 956) the students observed the abundance of violent and negative images, and the accessibility of these images to young children: decapitated bodies, hangings and burnings of the deceased. Not only is television media difficult to watch, ‘ya está muy violenta la televisión’ (line 959) (television is already violent), but so are online media outlets, where a child can have access to ‘ella’ (line 964), or la violencia, 554 and be bombarded with such images: ‘la puedes buscar por el Internet pero que diario un niño vea cincuenta descabezados, tres colgados, dos quemados’ (lines 964-966). Excerpt 35: 989 Nat: Claro, porque la oposición del gobierno actual tiene que ver con la violencia Of course, because the opposition [to] the current government has to do with the violence 990 que se ha generado por la lucha contra el narco. that has been generated by the fight against the drug cartel. 991 T: Mmhmm, pero la lucha por el, contra el narco. but the fight for the, against the drug cartel. 992 Nat: Claro, nada es gratis ((laughing)) Of course, nothing is free 993 T: Pero fíjate, pero no, pero fíjate que hay un punto que rara ves se discute en But look, but no, but look that there is a point that rarely you see discussed in 994 los medios aunque es bien sabido, y es que por una tradición, no es que the media although it’s well known, and it’s that by a tradition, it’s not that 995 pues, las:: noticias son muy violentas el ambiente se ha vuelto muy [1.0] o well, the news 996 are very violent the environment has become very sea no se niega el tema este que hay contra el crimen organizado. Pero en that is it’s not denied this issue that there is [a movement] against organized crime. But in 555 997 la vida cotidiana no hay ninguna regulación [1.0] para que tú trates de everyday life there is no regulation 998 for which you try moderar [1.0] las conductas o las: inclinaciones corruptas, no digamos en to moderate the conduct or the corrupt inclinations, 999 la educación, en el, en—en—en—en el entretenimiento porque por ejemplo education, 1000 let’s not say in in the, in—in—in—in entertainment because for example bueno yo no sé si ustedes sean muy afines a los juegos de de okay/well, I don’t know if you all are very attuned to the games of of 1001 computadora, o de estos, de cómo se llaman, los xboxs y los es::te cosas [the] computer, or of these, how [do] they call them, the Xboxes and the u::h things 1002 [1.0] Pero yo por lo que sé a mi nunca me han gustado y yo sé que, por But I for what I know know I never have liked them and I know that, 1003 ejemplo, los de deportes están bien no más pierdes el tiempo pero pues te for example, the [ones] of sports are good you [just] waste time but well you 1004 pones a jugar futbol y te pones a son tan que te puedes pasar put yourself to playing soccer and you put yourself to they’re so that you can pass 1005 las horas ¿no? Es poco productivo pero pues no es tan dañino, bueno es the hours right? It’s little productive but well it’s not so damaging, well/okay it’s 1006 poco productivo. Pero hay unos de guerras que tú dices y además con little productive. But there are some of wars that you say and moreover with 556 1007 temáticas muy violentas, así de que [.] themes very violent, like/so that Mexico City, African history class, 11 April 2011, lines 989-1007 This predominance of violent images comes even as there is a government policy to curb the presentation of violence and the portrayal of drug-traffickers as heroic, anti-government figures. As one student remarks of the government’s position on the avoidance of depicting drugtraffickers as positive figures, ‘De evitar, que ya no pueden presentar a los narcos como héroes’ 37 (line 955 above). Along those lines, another student draws attention to the ironic increase in drug-related violence due to the Mexican government’s fight against, or engagement with, the traffickers, the drug cartels, los narcos: ‘Claro, porque la oposición del gobierno actual tiene que ver con la violencia que se he generado por la lucha contra el narco’ (lines 989-990). This student’s statement is upheld by the professor’s validating ‘Mmhmm’ and echo of ‘pero la lucha […] contra el narco’ (line 991 above) (but the fight […] against the drug cartel). The pero draws attention to la lucha, but foreshadows the professor’s intention of saying that in spite of la lucha contra el narco, there are other contributing factors such as the violence in videogames. Subsequent to these remarks on the prevalence of violent images in contemporary society and their connection to the current drug war in Mexico, the professor asserts that this violence is reinforced by the images and tasks presented in videogames on ‘los xboxs’ (line 1001), which !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 37 At the time of this class, several narcocorridos could be heard on local Mexico City radio stations, or, in one instance as the theme song of La Reina del Sur, a Spanish-language television series produced in Mexico and Spain, and loosely based on the life of an actual heiress to a drug cartel empire. In the spirit of Mexican corridos, these lyrical songs narrate true events, often recounting the names of individual drug dealers and cartels, or narcos, as they are popularly called. In many cases these song lyrics depict the narcos as counterculture heroes, and celebrate their successes in evading police or overcoming competing cartels. 557 present little educational benefit to the player or consumer. Though unsure of whether the students engage in these games (‘…yo no sé si ustedes sean muy afines a los juegos’, line 1000), in the professor’s opinion, these videogames are ‘poco productivo’ (line 1005) (little productive), and there are some which involve scenes of war and violent themes: ‘Pero hay unos de guerras que tú dices y además con temáticas muy violentas’ (lines 1006-1007). In response to these final comments, one student, Ximena, offers the example of a videogame they have played, Resident Evil 5, in which the player’s objective is to avoid death at the bite of zombies in the fictional western African country of Kijuju. Excerpt 36: 1009 Nat: Muy reales [.] salen chorros de sangre y Very real 1010 Jaz: 1011 jets of blood come out and Nat: ¿Ah sí? Oh yes? 1012 Xim: Y ese es en Senegal, o sea, de—el de Resident Evil Five es en Senegal. And that is in Senegal, that is, of—the [one] of Resident Evil Five is in Senegal. 1013 T: ¿Y ustedes sí juegan en esos juegos?// And you all yes you play in those games? 1014 Xim: //Yo sí lo jugué [en las vacaciones. I [did play] it on [break]. 1015 T: [((short laugh)) 558 1016 Lun: Yo también lo [.] h[ay algunos muy buenos. I also 1017 Xim: it there are some [that are] very good. [Sí hay algunos [que son muy buenos. Yes there are some that are very good. 1018 T: [Lo que pasa es que entretienen, pero What’s happening is that they entertain, but 1019 en el fondo, pues están, es decir con juegos estás matando gente. in the background, well they’re, it’s to say with games you’re killing people. 1020 Xim: Y es gracioso porque es en Senegal, pero hablan en swahili. ((short And it’s funny because it’s in Senegal, but they speak in Swahili. 1021 1022 laugh)) Ana: ¡Ah sí! Tú nos dijiste. ¡Tú comentaste eso! [.] Sí. Oh yes! You told us. You commented that! Yes. Mexico City, African history class, 11 April 2011, lines 1009-1022 In this fifth installment of the Resident Evil videogame series, the West African characters can be heard speaking Swahili, a point that is not lost on Ximena, who finds it ‘gracioso’ (line 1020 above), or funny, that the game is supposed to be in Senegal, where people do not speak Swahili in the real world. What I have come to realize through a review of the inclass discussion of the Swahili-speaking, biohazard world of Kijuju is how this student’s observation speaks to their strong training in Swahili, and ability to recognize the language outside of the classroom setting, as well as their orientation to Africa as multilingual, rather than monolingual. This paradox of the use of Swahili in a non-Swahiliphone region of Africa is 559 particularly salient to Ximena and in the next part of this chapter I explore this in greater detail, in relation to further comments from the class about the imagery presented in the videogame. Before moving on to this next section, however, it is important to take note of a few closer details—some humorous— that appear to be laced within the interactive classroom discussion excerpted above. First, it can be observed that in the earlier talk of the pervasiveness of violent, bloodied images in Mexico’s media, the one dissenting voice disagreeing with the idea that these images were too prolific (‘A mí no me parece excesivo’, line 963) was that of the same student, Ximena, who would later reveal to everyone a personal experience with playing a survival thriller-type videogame in which the objective was to kill or be killed by zombies and others (‘Yo sí lo jugué en las vacaciones’, line 1014) (although Ximena is not the only student to admit to having played these games). At the same time it is these very elements of such videogames that are so unsettling to the professor, as revealed in part by the overlapping comment in lines 1018-1019 on the actual activity of these games: ‘Lo qué pasa es que entretienen, pero en el fondo, pues están, es decir con juegos estás matando gente’ (What is happening is that they [the games] are entertaining, but in the background, well they are, it’s to say with [these] games you are killing people). This comment reveals how the professor is somewhat preoccupied with the acts of murder simulated in these games, while others in the class share how they have enjoyed these games. The professor’s comment overlapped with that of Ximena responding to another student’s mention of the videogame, and agreeing that the other games in the genre were quite good: ‘Sí hay algunos que son muy buenos’ (line 1017). Even so, the professor has already made it clear how little value these videogames have, and the probing question in line 1013 appears to indicate some surprise that the students would play such games. 560 To this, Ximena responds with a somewhat defensive affirmation that the professor finds amusing, because Ximena is actually admitting to having played these games. However, even before the Resident Evil 5 videogame is mentioned, it is striking how the discussion of the predominance of chaotic images of the African continent in the media are juxtaposed with the extremely violent, local images of the casualities of Mexico’s drug war. Not only does this beg the question of which context is truly more violent, but when the linguistic landscape of Resident Evil 5 is later explained in more detail, it becomes evident that the imagined African world of corruption, violence, chaos, and abandon, is a parody of Africa, and a monolingually distorted view of postcolonial realities, particularly given the manner in which Swahili is appropriated therein. Ethnographic Vignette #6: Resident Evil 5 and the Imagining of Africa from North America In this section I present excerpts from the conversation that developed from Ximena’s mention of the use of Swahili in the Resident Evil 5 videogame in greater detail. Through these vignettes of classroom talk, and additional excerpts from interviews with students and Mexico City residents, I aim to show how the linked activity of Ximena as both a learner of Swahili and an apprentice in African studies is manifest in her assessment of language use in the game as an essentializing characteristic of the staging of an apocalyptic and dangerously corrupt Africa for gamers and zombie enthusiasts. Altogether these data demonstrate how the transformation of the learner into a swahilista is an inseparable dimension of their training in African studies, of their becoming an africanista. 561 Excerpt 37: 1012 Xim: Y ese es en Senegal, o sea, de—el de Resident Evil Five es en Senegal. And that is in Senegal, that is, of—the [one] of Resident Evil Five is in Senegal. 1013 T: ¿Y ustedes sí juegan en esos juegos?// And you all yes you play in those games? 1014 Xim: //Yo sí lo jugué [en las vacaciones. I yes I played it on [break]. 1015 1016 T: [((short laugh)) Lun: Yo también lo [.] h[ay algunos muy buenos. I also 1017 Xim: it there are some [that are] very good. [Sí hay algunos [que son muy buenos. Yes there are some that are very good. 1018 T: [Lo que pasa es que entretienen, pero What’s happening is that they entertain, but 1019 en el fondo, pues están, es decir con juegos estás matando gente. in the background, well they’re, it’s to say with games you’re killing people. 1020 Xim: Y es gracioso porque es en Senegal, pero hablan en swahili. ((short And it’s funny because it’s in Senegal, but they speak in Swahili. 1021 1022 laugh)) Ana: ¡Ah sí! Tú nos dijiste. ¡Tú comentaste eso! [.] Sí. Oh yes! You told us. You commented that! Yes. 562 1023 Xim: Sí. De hecho el juego entero está en swahili. O sea, hay un americano [.] y Yes. In fact the whole game is in Swahili. That is, there is an [male] American [.] and 1024 una que lo ayuda, o sea una africana que lo ayuda pero [ a [female one] that helps him, that is an African woman who helps him but 1025 T: [¿La africana habla swahili? The African woman speaks Swahili? 1026 1027 Xim: E:h, eh? T: ¿La africana habla swahili? The African woman speaks Swahili? 1028 Xim: Cuando habla con los africanos sí. Los africanos en realidad no hablan When she speaks with the Africans yes. The Africans in reality don’t speak 1029 mucho, o sea, los africanos son como zombies, son a los que les matan. much, that is, the Africans are like they’re [the ones] that kill [others]. 1030 Pe:ro ((short laugh))—pero por ejemplo cuando están persiguiendo a las But 1031 but for example when they are pursuing the africanas tú ves qué dicen e::h ‘wako wapi?’ ‘Wako wapo—wako wapi?’ Africans you see what they say e::h ‘where are they?’ ‘They’re they’re here—where are they?’ 1032 O sea, como que ‘dónde está’ y cosas así, y los ponen a buscarlos That is, like ‘where is s/he’ and things like that, and they put them to looking for them 563 1033 buscarlos o alguien que grita ‘están aquí’ y entonces [.] o sea cosas así. looking for them or someone who yells ‘they’re here’ and so/then [.] that is things like that. Mexico City, African history class, 11 April 2011, lines 1012-1033 Responding to the professor’s remarks on the general, rampant violence in ‘los juegos de 38 de computadora, o de estos, de cómo se llaman, los xboxs’ (lines 1000-1001 above) , and previous discussion on the depiction of African countries in the international media, Ximena shares an experience with the survival videogame, Resident Evil 5. Notable here is how Ximena includes in their first mention of the game a description of its location ‘en Senegal’ (line 1012). Later on, the geographic conflict between this western African game location and the actual Swahiliphone region of the continent is the source of laughter. However, first Ximena must respond to the professor’s challenge as to whether ustedes (you all) or the students, play games such as Resident Evil 5 themselves. This puts her a bit on the defensive, as she goes on to explain that she plays some of these videogames during her academic breaks. This shows that there is some recognition among the students that these games are not so positively regarded by their professor, and Ximena appears to redeem the mention of the game by returning to the initial observation of how Resident Evil 5 is unique among violent videogames because it involves Swahili. This brings the talk back around to Swahili, which allows Ximena to introduce the videogame as a new topic to defend her mention of it. This !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 38 This position on videogames as violent forms of entertainment is recapitulated in the professor’s overlapping comment after the first mention of Resident Evil 5 as a specific game exemplar, ‘Lo qué pasa es que entretienen, pero en el fondo, pues están, es decir con juegos estás matando gente’ (lines 1018-1019) (what is happening is that they [the games] are entertaining, but in the background, well they, it’s to say with [these] games you are killing people). 564 signifies that some degree of identity negotiation is taking place for Ximena, reconciling her academic, Swahili-speaking persona with her less formal, videogame-playing self. Ultimately, it makes no sense that Swahili should be spoken in Senegal: ‘Y es gracioso porque es en Senegal, pero hablan en swahili. ((short laugh))’ (lines 1020-1021 above). In this comment the use of pero conjoins the clauses, indicating their logical opposition. In the real world, it is atypical for Senegalese to speak Swahili in Senegal, and this comment reflects that reality, and the surreal nature of Swahili-language use within the videogame. This same incongruence is also intriguing to Ana, drawing further explanation from Ximena, who discloses that in fact, the whole game is in Swahili, ‘De hecho el juego entero está en swahili’ (line 1023), with a particular character or avatar speaking the most extended phrases in the language—‘una africana’ (line 1024) (an African woman). This africana captures the attention of the professor, who interjects with the result of divining further information on whether ‘la africana habla swahili?’ (lines 1025, 1027). Ximena’s response to this question reveals that the majority of africanos in the game do not speak because they are zombies (line 1028-1029). Rather, African voices can be heard throughout the game asking in Swahili ‘wako wapi?’ (line 1031), where are they?, or indicating that they are here, ‘están aquí’ (line 1033), and giving directions, ‘diciéndole las indicaciones para donde tiene que ir’ (line 1037 below). Excerpt 38: 1034 T: A::h ya:: A::h already/ by now 1035 1036 Nat: Xim: O habla cosas del swahili hay uno que habla completamente swahili Or speaks things of Swahili 565 there is one that speaks completely Swahili 1037 diciéndole las indicaciones para donde tiene que ir . saying to you the directions for where you have to go 1038 T: ¿En serio? Seriously/Really? 1039 Xim: Sí. Yes. 1040 T: Hórale y si sí es el swahili, hórale. Wow and [it’s indeed] Swahili, wow. 1041 Xim: Sí—sí es el swahili, correctamente y todo. Yes—yes it’s Swahili, correctly and everything. 1042 T: Muy muy gramátical ((la[ughter)) Very very grammatical 1043 Ss: [((laughter)) Mexico City, African history class, 11 April 2011, lines 1034-1043 The true measure of Ximena’s familiarity with the Swahili language, however, comes in response to the professor’s expressed amazement at the very notion of Swahili being used in the videogame. First ‘En serio?’ (line 1038), Really?, and then ‘Hórale’ (line 1040), akin to Wow, issues from the professor, indicating a sincere surprise and fascination with the use of the language in this capacity. ‘Hórale si sí es el swahili, hórale’ (line 1040), the professor muses, not necessarily as a challenge to Ximena’s competence at being able to discern the use of Swahili, but more as a continued articulation of incredulity that Swahili is being employed in the game at all. Ximena elaborate further, corroborating that yes, it truly is Swahili that is employed in the game. Says Ximena in response, ‘Sí—sí es el swahili, correctamente y todo’ (line 1041), 566 confirming that not only is a variety of Swahili used, but it is used correctly and everything. This is taken to mean grammatically correct, as the professor rejoins with ‘Muy muy gramátical’ (line 1042), and laughs (lines 1042-1043), seemingly matching the sense of surprise and curiosity in this laughter, possibly even sarcastically. Everyone in the classroom quickly joins in on this laughter after the professor appears to have validated Ximena’s observation as humorous and worthy of mention. It is at once hilarious and intriguing that Swahili should be used in the videogame to give voice to non-East African characters, and even more so, given that it was actually grammatically correct Swahili. In one sense, the interpretation here of ‘correctamente’ (in the context of language) as denoting grammaticality is itself indicative of the orientation within this classroom community of practice towards Standard Swahili, as well as the primacy of grammatical accuracy in the activity of learning Swahili. For example, there was no alignment in this talk episode of ‘correctamente’ with notions of pragmatic precision or appropriateness of vocabulary choice. Moreover, this observation by Ximena, and the confidence with which it is asserted, conveys an overall familiarity with the grammatical features of the Swahili language, a consequence of the daily language training that is integral to this African studies program. In the context of the program as a whole, the professor’s remark on the grammaticality of the language use in the videogame is then a manifestation of the linked practice of a swahilista and africanista, a specialist who is concerned with the study of Africa, and also the use of Swahili to represent Africans. Similarly, the professor also embodies this aim of linked practice as a selfproclaimed Swahilist (see interview excerpt above), and a specialist in African history and speaker of Swahili as a second (additional) language. With this professor as an example, a Swahilist is a scholar who is able, at minimum, to differentiate Swahili from other African 567 languages, and ascertain the grammaticality of Swahili-language use; two criteria that an untrained person would be unable to meet, given their general unfamiliarity with the language and the linguistic landscape of the African continent (see interview excerpts above). Such linguistic knowledge is demonstrated in the professor’s earlier lecture on the colonial vampires of East Africa, and connection of particular Swahili terms to larger cultural and historical implications, particularly to the more recent Popo Bawa of contemporary Tanzania and the chupacabras of Mexico. Perhaps related to this identity as a Swahilist and Africanist, the professor goes on to speculate as to why Swahili, as East African language, might be used in the imagined western African nation-state of Resident Evil 5. Thus the conversation on the videogame continues, led by further remarks from the professor. Excerpt 39: 1044 T: ¿Es cierto? Por ejemplo, toda esta idea tiene que ver con la, a ver esos Is it true? For example, all [of] this idea has to do with the, let’s see those 1045 juegos fueron realizados en Estados Unidos ¿no? games were created/produced in[the] United States right? 1046 Xim: Sí. Yes. 1047 Ana: Sí, por la, con la con—con que encontraron a alguien que hablará swahili y Yes, for the, with the with—that they found someone that would/will speak Swahili and 1048 ya [.] ((laughter)) done 568 1049 T: Acuérdate de que son todavía esas ideas, de—de de Estados Unidos Remember that they are still those ideas, of/from—of/from of/from [the] United States 1050 de esta idea de que es una visión como pan-africanista. of/from this idea that it’s a view as/like Pan Africanist. 1051 Ss: Mmhmm. Mexico City, African history class, 11 April 2011, lines 1044-1051 Along with Ximena, the professor suspects that the videogame was created in the U.S. because of its seemingly obtuse vision of Africa: ‘toda esta idea tiene que ver […] esos juegos fueron realizados en Estados Unidos ¿no?’ (lines 1044-1045 above) (this whole idea [has to do with the idea that] […] those games were created/produced in the United States, right?). The ¿no? tag in this statement is a recognizable feature of this speaker’s typical linguistic behavior, 39 rather than a true confirmatory interrogative. Fittingly, the U.S. is where a singular view of Africa is perpetuated, a view of Africa as a place with one language, one people, one culture. It is a perspective that these videogames were created by the same Euro-American bloc that propagates exaggerated views of African violence and savagery. Such a perspective may not be so outlandish, given that a U.S. view of the African continent as largely Swahili-speaking has been discussed by others (e.g., Waliaula, 2013). !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 39 In this case, as in the earlier talk of colonial vampires in a previous class meeting, the use of the tag shows that the professor views their aforementioned statement as obvious and factual, akin to saying right? or duh! or is it not so? or you know? in American English. 569 Excerpt 40: 1052 T: De que el swahili es como la lengua que se habla ¿no? Y de que para que That Swahili is like the language that is spoken right? And that for what 1053 no te pongas a, digamos, a, e::h a pelear (?) pues ya de plano pues das you shouldn’t [get into], let’s say, to e::h to fighting (¿) well clearly well 1054 por hecho que el swahili es la lengua representativa:: pues se acuerdan you take for granted that Swahili is the representative language well it’s agreed 1055 que eso lo platicamos en algunos de los hasta Michael Jackson en that that we talked [about] in some of the even Michael Jackson in 1056 esa canción de ‘Liberian girl’ no pues es una chava de Liberia y él está that song 1057 no well it’s a girl of/from Libera and he is diciendo ‘nakupenda pia, nakutaka pia’. ((laughs)) A poco en Liberia se saying 1058 of ‘I love you too, I want you too’. Little/rarely in Liberia habla swahili, pues sí, pero bueno como les, pues, de estas cosas que son is Swahili spoken, well yes, but well/okay as you all, well, of/from these things that are 1059 un poco más complicadas. a little more complicated. Mexico City, African history class, 11 April 2011, lines 1052-1059 According to the professor, the view of Africa from the U.S. is one in which Swahili is overwhelmingly regarded as the ‘lengua representativa’ (line 1053 above), the representative language of Africa. This is evidenced by other media output of the U.S. including Michael Jackson’s ‘Liberian girl’ (line 1055) in which a male voice can be heard addressing his beloved 570 using Swahili, saying I love you, too, I want you, too, ‘Nakupenda pia, nakutaka pia’ (line 40 1056). In this sense, the absurdity, within the professor’s view, of using Swahili to court a girl of Liberia becomes juxtaposed to the equally odd notion of using Swahili to effectively communicate with an imagined Senegalese Kijuju resident from the videogame. Within the purview of the Swahilist, both scenarios are contexts of illogical Swahili-language use, substantiating the professor’s argument that there is something problematic about this ‘panafricanista’ (line 1049), monolingual orientation towards Africa. With closer inspection of the videogame, it becomes clear that some of the professor’s observations on an essentialist orientation towards Africa are also shared by others in the classroom. This comes through in the student’s agreement with the idea that the videogame was created in the U.S., and it is also evident in Ana’s vocal response and laughter regarding the absurdity that they, the videogame authors, or the Americans (lines 1047-1048), would just randomly find someone who speaks Swahili and be satisfied that they speak for Africa, without doing any further research. In a way, the Mexican classroom of Latin American learners of Swahili and their Mexican professor want to associate the West—the U.S.—with the problematic presentation of Africa within the videogame. They want to blame this misstep on ‘Estados Unidos’ (lines 1045, 1049 above), a Western power they feel they are not akin to, and are somehow superior to (at least in their understanding of Africa), though they strongly claim their place within North !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 40 Listening to the Liberian Girl lyrics myself on separate occasions sometime before and after this class meeting, I can admit that I felt a similar sense of incredulity as the professor describes. This probably speaks to my own training as a Swahilist, that I can sense the incongruency in the use of Swahili to lyrically address a Liberian person. More recently, I felt similarly when I watched an episode of Alias, a U.S.-produced television show, in which a spy mission took CIA assets to an imagined setting somewhere in Angola, where actors were speaking a mix of Portuguese and Swahili. 571 America as Americanos and do this from a marginalized position within the continent. This is all encapsulated in the assumption that Resident Evil 5 and games like it, ‘esos juegos’ (lines 10441045) (those games), were created and authored in the U.S.—as the professor says, ‘fueron realizados en Estados Unidos ¿no?’. With successive affirmations of ‘sí’ (lines 1046-1047 above), two of the students demonstrate alignment with their professor’s remark. In their minds, it is logical that this game be authored in the U.S, because, as one of these students next elaborates, basically they—the U.S.—are so ignorant, misguided, or purposely mischievous that they would just look for someone to speak Swahili for the purposes of these games, and then be done with it: ‘Sí, por la, con la con—con que encontraron a alguien que hablará swahili y ya [.] ((laughter))’ (lines 1047-1048). This would translate as: Yes, for it/the, with it/the with—with that they found someone that will speak Swahili and [that’s it]. To be satisfied with only one Swahilispeaker to represent the linguistic diversity of the African continent—this very notion—is so absurd that the student cannot help but laugh. And it is this absurdity that the professor reiterates as being linked to the U.S. and its Pan African vision of Africa: ‘Acuérdate de que son todavía esas ideas, de—de de Estados Unidos de esta idea de que es una visión como panafricanista’ (lines 1049-1050 above). Even the use of the word todavía (still, up to this time) to further qualify ‘esas ideas’ (those [aforementioned] ideas) carries with it the impression that any monolinguistic perspective on Africa is outdated and invalid. These statements spoken in the classroom would then seem to set this Mexico City learning community of informed scholars apart from the ignorant U.S. public and their videogamers, who are satisfied with a singular Swahili reality as a stand-in for the continental African reality. Their misguided, Western view of Africa is one that only a non-Swahilist or nonAfricanist could be satisfied with. Then again, returning to the professor’s earlier remarks during 572 our interview, a ‘very good Africanist’ is someone who, through their knowledge of an African language, and the associated authority this implies, is able to render judgment on whether Swahili is being used (in)correctly and appropriately—an activity that a non-Africanist or nonSwahilist would not be able to do, because they are outside of the ‘Africanist tradition’. In part, this is what is occurring in this episode of classroom talk, the professor as the expert and lead Africanist and Swahilist in the community is using an elaborative commentary to guide the novices to support an analytical position on the videogame that reinforces their collective, authoritative role as Africanist and Swahilist scholars, and underscores contrasts in Latin American or Mexican identity versus that of the U.S. (in its flagship role as a Western power) population. The mention of a Pan African vision within the U.S. may also allude (at least within the professor’s perspective) to the known number of African descendants who have an interest in Africa and Swahili language. Among these descendants would also be Michael Jackson, of whom the professor provides the example of misaligned assignment of Swahili to a Liberian/West African context within the song, ‘Liberian girl’. 41 This follows from something the professor mentions in his interview with me as part of a longer explanation of why Swahili has come to prominence within the field of African studies (see interview excerpt above, lines 122-134): that there are a number of activities of the African American community that have historically assisted in the promotion of Swahili in the U.S. and elsewhere, including the use of !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 41 This example of the use of Swahili within the song ‘Liberian girl’ is additionally interesting, if it is remembered that the area that became Liberia was an American colony on African soil, founded in 1822, and populated by Africans returned from intercepted slave ships (after the British, and later U.S. abolition on the import of newly enslaved persons), or conditions of enslavement in the U.S. Additional residents included the existing local population at the time of the founding of Liberia, as well as immigrants from neighboring West African countries. In this regard, it is not at all entirely improbable that a Pan-African personality could be found in modern Liberia, someone who would respond positively to the use of Swahili. 573 the language in annual Kwanzaa celebrations, the lobbying for university programs in African languages, and the practice of taking on personal names derived from Swahili and other African languages. Essentially, there is a depiction here of Swahili as not just an African language, but the African language. This is also illustrated by the position of Swahili as the sole African language to be studied in the Mexico City African studies program. However, one major assumption made by the professor and students is that the videogame was created in the U.S. In truth, Resident Evil 5 was produced in 2009 by the Japanbased company Capcom as the fifth iteration of the Resident Evil series, which follows the continued, underhanded exploits of a bioweapons company, its secret experimentation on the public, the subsequent unleashing of a zombie-creating virus, and the deadly consequences thereof (Capcom, 2009). Analyzing the visual elements and activity of the videogame itself, Geyser and Tshabalala (2011) find the imagery to be highly reminiscent of the Heart of darkness scenario posed by Conrad (1902 [1990]) in his novel of the same name: ‘Firstly, Africa is homogenised [sic]. Presented only as sub-Saharan Africa visually, and vulnerable verbally, the state that is depicted dissolves differentiation between identities’ (Geyser & Tshabalala, 2011, p. 6). Well-known, iconic screenshots from the videogame, available in Google image searches, as well as on fan sites for Resident Evil 5 and other iterations of the game, and reproduced in Geyser and Tshabalala (2011), depict the key avatars or player’s animated personalities in the game. Though I was already familiar with the internationally marketed Resident Evil movie series, which I have seen segments of on television, and which derives from the plots of each sequential game in the ongoing series, I had (and still have) not played the videogame, and these 574 sources, particularly the fan sites, were helpful in gathering further background information, key plot details, and images from the game. In one emblematic screenshot, the main characters in the game, the American male, and the ‘africana’, that Ximena describes earlier in the mention of the game in class (line 1024 above), can be seen facing one another, engaged in some sort of discussion of their options, while surrounded by a desolate, sandy scene of burned-out cars, abandoned tires, rubble, and distant banana trees. Chris Redfield, the White American male, is a muscular, wide-shouldered brunette, dressed in army-style, khaki and olive-colored short sleeves and long pants. In this Figure 24. Sheva Alomar tattoo in Resident Evil 5 videogame. 575 particular scene, he faces Sheva Alomar, his agent partner, a lighter-skinned Black woman, with aquiline facial features. She is visible in profile, highlighted by her sleeveless, woven or textured purple tank top, thin gold hoop earrings, beaded necklaces with charms, and richly colorful, striped armband, and accompanying strip of beads at the midpoint of her left shoulder which itself features a large tattoo (see Figure 24 above) in a reddish ink. Sheva’s mid-shoulder tattoo, located above her arm jewelry is comprised of the easily recognizable West African Adinkra symbol gye nyame, literally only God or except God in the Akan/Twi language, for an 42 omnipotent, all-knowing God. This swirling, toothed shape is turned on its side, and underneath it is the lowercase word, shujaa, meaning brave in Swahili, an East African language. At the very base of the tattoo is a symbol that appears to be a modified version of gyawu atiko, 43 an Adinkra symbol, meaning valor or bravery. These are the main, most visible components of the tattoo, which serve, along with her colorful jewelry, to paint Sheva as a non-American character. The apposition of West African and East African elements in Sheva’s tattoo can also be understood as symptomatic of the conflation of African identities within the videogame; Adinkra and Swahili, the iconic symbols of two geographically opposite regions of Africa find themselves in the same place on her !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 42 Gye nyame refers to only God or except God as in the Akan/Twi proverb ‘Abɔdeɛ yi firi tete; obi nnte ase a, onim n’ahyease, obi nntena ase nnkosi nawie yɛ gye Nyame’, translating as The great creation originated from the unknown past; no one lives who saw its beginning. No one lives who will see its end except God. As a 2013 tourist handbook on Adinkra symbols published in Accra, Ghana, details in English: ‘The symbol reflects the supremacy, power, and dominion of God over all situations and creations. He is therefore regarded as the sumtotal, omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent. This is a symbol of supremacy of God’ (p. 20). 43 As the Accra tourist booklet on Adinkra symbols remarks of the gyawu atiko: ‘The symbol encourages people to affirm their belief in their ability to undertake difficult tasks where others express doubt. It also urges people to be a little adventurous. This is a symbol of valour’ (p. 39). 576 shoulder, as if they naturally inhabit this position. Similarly, in the constructed scenario of the game, an East African language is spoken within a West African geography, a location Ximena recognizes as ‘Senegal’ (line 1012), and finds greatly amusing because of the incongruity it signifies in its representation of the typical speakers of Swahili language: ‘Y es gracioso porque es en Senegal, pero hablan en swahili. ((short laugh))’ (lines 1020-1021 above). With Chris, her counterpart in the fight against the zombie outbreak, Sheva speaks English. With the local African leadership, she speaks Swahili. In yet another key moment in the videogame, represented by a published screenshot on one of the game’s top fan sites, Resident Evil Wiki, Sheva can be seen standing near butchered, hanging meat carcasses, where she is interacting with a local male, a dark-skinned, broad-shouldered Black man outfitted in a faded red beret, and a bloodstained, dark olive army jacket, rolled up at the sleeves, and unbuttoned, revealing his muscular chest, and the long, combat-style rifle strapped to it. In this scene, Sheva’s lighter skin color contrasts with the darker skin color of the local man, who appears to be the quintessential, corrupt, African army leader, a motif that is very cleverly exploited by the videogame’s authors, as much as it is a feature of international news media or Western television dramas drawing on African subject matter. Moreover, it becomes clearer that the differences in skin color are reflective of staggered descents into savagery, which parallel the use of language in the game. This is an important observation, because notions of a person’s civility, intelligence, and socioeconomic status are highly racialized to this day in Mexican society, and related to the Mexican experience of racial stratification and categorization under successive waves of Spanish occupation and colonization. Effectively, Sheva straddles the Western and African worlds as an English-Swahili bilingual, and a possibly biracial character, though definitely not American because of her beaded jewelry and African tattoo. However, the darker-skinned African terrorist 577 has bloodstained garments, a military-grade firearm, and a somewhat bare chest, indicating a lesser state of civility and a greater predisposition toward committing acts of evil. In Capcom’s own narration of its storyline, these military characters are interested in gaining access to the zombie-causing virus for its potential as a bioterrorist weapon: From the ashes of old conflicts, a new terror arises. The Umbrella Corporation and its crop of lethal viruses have been destroyed and contained. But a new, more dangerous threat has emerged. Years after surviving the events in Raccoon City, Chris Redfield has been fighting the scourge of bio-organic weapons all over the world. Now a member of the Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance (BSSA), Chris is sent to Africa to investigate a biological agent that is transforming the populace into aggressive and disturbing creatures. Joined by another local BSSA agent, Sheva Alomar, the two must work together to solve the truth behind the disturbing turn of events. Featuring a revolutionary new co-op mode of gameplay, Resident Evil 5 will let players experience fear together as terror moves out of the shadows and into the light of day (Capcom, 2009). In this regard the imagery of the videogame embodies many of the disparaging tendencies the African history class has thus observed; the possibility of a representative democracy is overshadowed by a narrative of overwhelming chaos, threats of terrorism, disease, and externally controlled intervention. Within the Capcom narrative, there is also the characterization of Africa as a place mired in ‘old conflicts’, having always been embroiled in problems and tribulations. The best way to temporarily fix these problems is to have actors from the West enter the African setting and enact justice and exact a militarized solution. This is an observation that Geyser & Tshabala (2011) also make in their analysis: 578 ‘[…] the imagined town Kijuju, symbol of the homogeneous Africa, is immediately sketched as a passive receptor for the dangerous advances of the West. Africa is acted upon, it acts out, and the West needs to intervene to restore balance’ (Geyser & Tshabalala, 2011, p. 6). Within the logic of the game, and much of the presentation of the news media, Western intervention is setup as an acceptable solution to the African problem because the African actors, and their setting, are characterized as helpless and unable to effectively engineer their own ascent out of these problem scenarios—with or without the added challenge of (real or imagined) virusinduced zombies created by a Western-founded bioweapons company on African soil. These observations also relate to the Mexican vision of Africa, as evidenced by the reflective comments I received in my interviews with stakeholders in the evening community course on introductory Swahili. In these comments, it was clear that the Mexican construct of Africa, as described by these Mexico City residents and learners of Swahili, was linked to images of ongoing guerra (war), genocidio (genocide), and hambre (hunger) (Interview with community person #1, April 11, 2011, see chapter 2 for full comment). This construction of Africa was supported by the presentation of Africa as an undifferentiated, monolingual landscape in movies. On the one hand, these statements make sense within this classroom community, because it is understood that the general Mexican (or at least Mexico City) populace has a very limited knowledge of Africa. This limited public knowledge would then reinforce or strengthen the academic authority of Africanist and Swahilist scholars within Mexico, particularly within certain settings, among enthusiasts of Africa. Such was my experience at events sponsored by the Comisión de Relaciones Exteriores de África del Senado (Senate Foreign Affairs Comission on Africa), like the country-wide Quinto Semana de África en México (the fifth annual Week of 579 Africa in Mexico) during May 23-27, 2011 (see Figure 25 below), where Mexico City Africanist scholars, along with Mexico City-based African nationals and diplomats from African countries, were regarded as exclusive experts on contemporary events in Angola, Cote D’Ivoire, Libya, and Mali. On the other hand, this classroom discourse appears to be making three major omissions, that data from my interviews with community members and evening Swahili-learners suggest are important: One, there is no explicit mention of the contemporary parallels in the U.S. and Mexican (or Latin American) constructions of Africa, which are grounded in similar (though not the same) historical processes of colonialism, the enslavement of a considerable number of Figure 25. Quinto Semana de África en México. Mexico City, 24 May 2011. 580 the African population, and the later selective marooning and absorption of this population into mainstream Mexican society. This provides a likely example of erasure, after Gal (2005, p. 27), where ‘in general, erasures are forms of forgetting, denying, ignoring, or forcibly eliminating thosedistinctions or social facts that fail to fit the picture of the world presented by an ideology’ (also Irvine & Gal, 2000). At the time that the Civil War was erupting in the U.S. in 1861, slavery had already been technically outlawed in Mexico for 41 years, though Mexican slavery had already begun around 1519, some 100 years before the first successful British colony was established in the North Atlantic, and the later consolidation of chattel slavery into the 18th century. At one time, owing to the institution of slavery in early Mexico, the number of Africans in Mexico City significantly outnumbered the numbers of Spanish and Indigenous persons (Githiora, 2008a). The same was the case going into the 19th century for much of what would later become the United States of America (before the annexing of the Louisiana Purchase, and Indian and Mexican territories). However, the constructions of race and ethnicity in Mexico and the U.S. greatly diverged, such that the Spanish ruling classes in Mexico were early on concerned with the precise labeling and composition of racial mixes. In Mexico, these practices ultimately promoted a converging of the population into a phenotypic blend intended to obscure the African genetic and cultural contribution, la raza cósmica, or the cosmic race. In the U.S., racial mixing was also heavily monitored, and this varied in historically Puritan-, Spanish- and French- controlled areas, though this manifested differently against the background of the ‘one-drop’ philosophy of biological race. At the same time that the classroom discussion of the Resident Evil 5 videogame omits any explicit mention of the parallels between the public imagination of Africa in Mexico and the 581 U.S. (where the game is presumed to have been authored), there is no mention of the strong, daily role Swahili occupies throughout the Mexico City program in African studies. By itself, this omission is quite remarkable for its illustration of this learning community’s view of itself as a hub of academic enlightenment. However, paired with other details (as described by Mexico City counterparts in the community language class) of the public, Mexican view of the African continent, African-descended Mexicans or afromexicanos (African Mexicans) and afrodescendientes (African descendants), this classroom discourse appears to exhibit some aspects of a Mexican exceptionalism, when it comes to the academic pursuit of Africa. This exceptionalism appears to (1) set the African studies classroom apart from the Mexican populace, who largely find little value in the study of Africa, and (2) draw a distinction between the Mexico City classroom and the U.S., which is perceived as an ignorant or blindsided country of the Euro-American Western bloc that overwhelmingly mischaracterizes Africa in a manner indicative of its neocolonial enterprise. One way to interpret the focus and concern of the class on the use of Swahili within the Resident Evil 5 videogame, is to understand their interest as a reflection of their strong orientation towards the study of Swahili (and their training as Swahilists), not only as requisite activity of the language classroom, but also as a component of their study of African history. An additional important point this classroom dialogue highlights is the necessity of problematizing the notion of ‘pan-africanista’ (line 1050 above), and differentiating the fused vision of Africa within the videogame, and the appropriation of Swahili as a ‘lengua representativa’ (line 1052), a representative language, in both the Pan-African political and intellectual movement, and the Mexico City African studies program. For, at the same time that the class is drawing attention to the representative role of Swahili within the U.S. vision (that 582 presumably authored Resident Evil 5), they appear not to critique the potential essentialization 44 that the focus on Swahili within their own program may have on the study of Africa. At the essence of the class’ critique of the West is a concern for the reliance on Swahili to represent African experience and linguistic diversity, even as the class itself is monolingually engaging Africa through a Swahili-language lens. Epilogues and Conclusions In this chapter, the activity of using Swahili in the study of African history has been explored as a means of uncovering the role of language learning in the practice of African studies in the Mexico City educational setting. At the outset, an excerpt of talk from the Swahililanguage classroom was also discussed, to provide greater sketch of the sets of norms that were exhibited in practice within this community of study, knowledge production, and language learning. A significant dimension of this practice hinges upon the study of Swahili and the demonstration of Swahili-language knowledge as an illustration of academic competence. Additional excerpts of classroom talk illustrate how Swahili finds its way into content study of Africa, with the history professor’s high expectations of students’ abilities in Swahili following from the Mexico City program’s design of being structured around a concern from Swahililanguage proficiency. These key links within the program between the study of Africa and the study of Swahili contribute to making the language classroom a site of struggle in the formation of africanista and swahilista identities, a tension that is illustrated in the conversation between !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 44 The focus on the study of Swahili is so key within the Mexico City African studies program that students traveling or studying abroad for purposes of research or study (e.g., France, Kenya, Senegal) during the regular semester, are required to complete assignments for the course in Swahili language, and Skype in to the class to videochat and participate during class lessons. I witnessed this videochatting several times during my time in Mexico City. 583 students their language instructors (different individuals from their history professor) about how their collective focus on Swahili diverts or detracts from the study of the whole of Africa within the program. Interestingly, the invoking of the Popo Bawa, the winged, bat-like, supernatural creature from Tanzania, within the context of the Mexico City university library appears to relate to a common feeling among the students of panic and frustration in response to the unanticipated disappearance of a key text (Speaking with vampires). Though the Mexico City classroom context is decidedly different from the coastal Tanzania social ecology that innovated the Popo Bawa, there is an underlying inequality in power common to both settings. It is possible that someone in the class hid the book from others in an attempt to limit their access to the assigned readings, leading to a situation in which some students were left feeling powerless in their search for the library book. The Popo Bawa incarnated in Mexico City as a library-dwelling, vampiretype figure, then becomes an acceptable, however humorous, stand-in for the true bandit. In concluding her chapter ‘“Why is Petrol Red?”’ in Speaking with vampires, Luise White (2000) uses the following words (pp. 146-147) to summarize an explanation of why such vampire-type figures became important and widespread in colonial Africa: Why did African men represent the conflicts and problematics of the new skills and economic regimes in stories about public employees who sucked blood? The simplest answer is perhaps best: no other idea could carry the weight of the complications of work, identities, and machines. First, it is a metaphor of colonial origin; despite official attempts to link it to ‘traditional’ practices, most African informants said bazimamoto emerged in the late teens and early 1920s. Second, these vampires were described with all the tools and technologies, all the uniforms, titles, and rank and authority of colonial 584 bureaucracies: vampires were encumbered with all the formalities and inefficiencies of colonial public services. Their dreadful night duties explained the senseless routine and the discipline of their daytime jobs. That capturing Africans was a job for some Africans, requiring intense secrecy, organization, and supervision, made vampires uniquely well suited to represent the conflicts and ambiguities of labor, because vampiric firemen were not an established fact: many people doubted their existence, and insisted that the rumors began when Africans misconstrued European actions. The debate was not merely about whether or not colonial vampires existed, but about the nature and the attributes of certain kinds of labor. The disputable character of wazimamoto was part of its significance; such disagreements continually posed the questions, did an identifiably separate group of skilled laborers exist and, if they did, what was their impact on the wider society? (White, 2000, pp. 146-147) A key part of the discussion of vampires within this chapter on the role of Swahili in the practice of African studies in Mexico City has been to illustrate exactly how the language features within the activity of the content classroom. It was observed within this chapter, for example, that a number of speech events occur that are centered on the Spanish translation of Swahili terminology featured in the discussion of African—largely East African—history. And this is an important point, that the space Swahili occupies within the content classroom guarantees that the discussion will involve East Africa. Even so, these Swahili-focused speech events appeared to generate opportunities for a critical engagement of lesser-discussed issues in contemporary Mexican and Latin American experience: it is the translation and discussion of wazimamoto, wachinjaji, and popo bawa that spur dialogue on the enduring cultural impact of colonization, the emergence of el chupacabras, and social responses to taboo sexual relations. 585 Over the course of discussing vampires, the class relates connections between African and Latin American experiences in colonization, and even makes mention of slavery, in terms of the abduction and capture of Africans by Europeans on the African continent. However, this discussion appears to overlook the role of slavery in the economic and cultural development of Latin America. This is particularly curious, given the professor’s acknowledgement during our interview of the contributions of enslaved speakers of Yoruba, as well as of Bantu languages, to the modern-day Latin American linguistic repertoire. Whether this omission in the class discussion is deliberate or not, it arguably results in an erasure (Gal, 2005) that aligns with the perception in Mexico of the irrelevance of Africans and afromexicanos to the historical development and present situation of the country. In fact, returning to Ana’s question regarding the possible African origin of the supernatural, Mexican chupacabras (30 March 2011, lines 547-548), there is actually evidence to suggest that the concept emerged as a syncretic fusion of local Mayan beliefs and transplanted African priesthood practices. The chupacabras likely derives from the teyollohcuani of the Chicontepec Nahua, which under African influence took shape as a ‘zoomorphic psychic projection’ (Martín del Campo, 2009, p. 132). Some notable events occurred not far from Mexico City in colonial Cuernavaca (located south of the City) (Martín del Campo, 2009, p. 130): ‘Cases of the synthesis between African and indigenous religious systems well illustrate the extent of their fellow marginalized indigenes and their traditional affinities with animal alter egos, for example, they and their mixed-blood descendants were the only nonindigenous [sic] people in New Spain deemed able to assume the nagual, either as a spiritual counterpart or as an animal form into which to convert. Thus Ana the Pythoness, 586 operating near Cuernavaca, Morelos, Mexico, could combine African “ventriloquilism” with nagualism [sic] by creating hissing sounds in her stomach and experiencing visions of her many naguales, enabling her to divine the whereabout of her clients’ missing objects’. Common to Mesoamerican folklore, the nagual of the above account is a shape-shifting creature that is said to assume animal form as it pranks, steals, and bewitches people. Therefore, embodied within the conception of the chupacabras itself, is the story of another African contribution to the Mexican experience. When it comes to the zombie, yet another supernatural creature, with this figuring into the African history class through a student’s mention of the use of Swahili within the Resident Evil 5 videogame, the class discussion highlights the tension between projecting a positive, Pan African image of Africa’s cultural continuity, as opposed to a negative one stricken by poverty, violence, and corruption. Within a larger view, the very tension the class reflects upon with regards to the videogame becomes relevant to the interpretation of the linguistic activity of the African history class as situated practice within the Mexico City African studies program. That, for example, it is still asked on the campus, ¿Por qué estudiar África? (Why study Africa?), is one of the elements that positions actors within the African studies program on the defensive, wanting to demonstrate that Africa is a compelling area of study. However, that Africa in its entirety is designated a research area, with only one language offered, is highly problematic, because it almost guarantees that the students with research interests outside of Swahiliphone Africa (characterized within the program as Kenya and Tanzania) will be dissatisfied. Correspondingly, students struggle against the defining of Africa as East Africa. Ultimately, the exploration of African history through a Swahili-language lens reifies the linked priorities on 587 linguistic competence and promoting scholarship on East Africa within the classroom community, and creates a space for varied engagement of Mexican and Latin American points of controversy: the ongoing drug war, the deep cultural impact of colonization, the political invention of chupacabras. The class discussion of media violence that led to the mention of videogames additionally highlights the view of the Euro-American bloc from within Latin America. The preponderance of violent and chaotic images of the African continent within the international media is understood as the prolific effort of Euro-American media networks. These same Western networks are to blame for the essentializing of Africa as an entirely Swahili-speaking landscape (as depicted in Resident Evil 5). These critiques are made even as there is select discussion of the ongoing and growing violence within Mexico’s own media due to the escalating drug war, and as the class is itself engaged in a study of Africa that is principally focused upon East Africa. With Swahili as the requisite African language within the program, Mexico City learners are trained as swahilistas, and are called upon to demonstrate their communicative competence in Standard Swahili in limited speech events mostly entailing translation to Spanish. It is these types of prescribed, closed speech events that present an additional challenge to learners interested in developing a broader communicative competence in the language beyond academic abilities. Altogether, these data call into question what the study of Africa should entail on a global scale, and how African languages should feature within this study. Responding to the tensions and challenges illustrated throughout this chapter, African studies practitioners may need to deconstruct their area studies-based approaches, and support a coordinated specialization in multiple regions and African languages, as opposed to a general continental focus that incurs the 588 study of one representative language. This could put greater focus on the mastery of African languages in Africanist scholarship, challenging rationale that sometimes privileges ex-colonial languages, and opening up opportunities for more extensive South-South collaboration. 589 Chapter 6 Conclusions With close attention to investments in language learning, this dissertation has unfolded as a transregional ethnography of communication across second and foreign language contexts in the learning of Swahili. Framed as a study in applied linguistics, this research illustrates how studies of this type can reveal the impact of language learning within institutional settings, as well as within the field of African studies. In this research, the activity of the language classroom has been explored as a community of practice within the institutional setting of the university, and the urban setting of the postcolonial nation. Key urban centers of the Global South, Mexico City and Dar es Salaam are interconnected through flows of knowledge production in the study of Africa, and the guiding of learners into the use of Standard Swahili through Swahili-English materials produced in Tanzania. In the talk among students and teachers, there is ample evidence of shifting novice and expert roles, competing displays of English-, Spanish-, and Swahili-language competence, and multilayered social identities. This locates the notion of becoming Swahili within ongoing social histories in the emergence of agentive authenticity, new Swahilist scholars, and manufactured, ethnolinguistic legacies. Collectively, these new speakers of Swahili comprise yet another phase in the ever-expanding trajectory of the language, and signal a developing frontier in the learning of the language where there is an engagement of first-, second-, and L+ speaker, Tanzanian and non-Tanzanian, Black and non-Black. 590 Communities of Practice in the Teaching of Swahili In the documentation of intersections and discontinuities among classroom actors, this dissertation illuminates how activity internal to the classroom community constructs it as a site of struggle in the (re)imagination of social identities. In Dar es Salaam, where the use of Swahili constitutes mainstream Tanzanian behavior, the language classroom is peripheral to the greater urban center in its prevalent use of English, and reification of Tanzanian/non-Tanzanian boundaries. This is especially evident in chapter 3, in the vignettes from beginning-level classrooms, and in chapter 4, where shared practices are detailed in relation to the telling of stories. In the Dar es Salaam context, authenticity in Swahili is packaged within ethnolinguistic boundaries. This ethnolinguistic authenticity is particularly manifest in the teaching of hadithi ya Kiswahili, the Swahili-language story, and learners’ explanations of anansesεm as Twi-language story. In this, the telling of hadithi (story) itself by learners becomes a site of conformity or resistance, which is measured by the teacher’s criticism or praise in response. Gladys receives maximum praise for performing a time-honored allegory of a personified Cat and Mouse, while Bahati and Hamisi are critiqued for performing stories that do not live up to the teacher’s expectations. Their stories are not successful hadithi ya Kiswahili, and like the American (U.S.) storytelling enthusiast Lowell Brower (2010), who makes extended stays throughout coastal Tanzania as a learner of Swahili, their respective attempts to incorporate a methali (proverb) and kitendawili (riddle) go unrewarded, and their performance in the classroom community amounts to a peripheral participation. In the case of Mexico City, where the study of Africa is itself marginalized, the activity of learning Swahili is located on the periphery of a public imagining of Swahiliphone communities as African communities. Such a view of Africa is discussed by the Mexico City 591 classroom community as an outgrowth of a longstanding Euro-American monopoly on the framing of African images, African languages, and African landscapes. This is exemplified in their discussion of the videogame Resident Evil 5, where Swahili is seen to be counter-intuitively appropriated in a post-apocalyptic, West African geography. These conversations are detailed in chapter 5, and provide evidence of how Mexico City learners are trained in Swahili as swahilistas (Swahilists), enabling them to notice grammatical uses of the language within the videogame, as well as its ill-fitting assignment as the language of West African zombies and corrupt militiamen. The training of swahilistas in the use of Standard Swahili, as well as through the use of Standard Swahili, is detailed in the examination of how Swahili figures in the African history class, and facilitates a focus on East African historical and contemporary happenings. As the history professor queries learners on Swahili vocabulary, there is an expectation that these probes are nothing more than a formality, and that the meaning of words like wazimamoto (firefighters) and wachinjaji (butchers) is common knowledge in the class. This Swahili-centered talk signals that the Africanist is indelibly the Swahilist in that arena, and yet this designation is problematized by some learners’ research interests in African countries other than Kenya and Tanzania. Under these circumstances, across both Dar es Salaam and Mexico City, Kiswahili Sanifu or Standard Swahili becomes an icon of African culture and a linguistic object to be grammatically analyzed, but not spoken conversationally among students in the language classroom, because these learners are not ‘authentic’ speakers of Swahili. In both contexts, the performance of Swahili identity and the doing of African studies is focused upon East Africa (specifically Tanzania), and delimited by covert ties to British and Spanish colonial-era primordial ideals of race- and language-based authenticity and authority. This presents grave 592 challenges in the building of a social and professional identity in Swahili, and relays the message that in order to learn Swahili, and do African studies in either Mexico or Tanzania, one must already be equipped with English-language knowledge. In the uses of English to teach Swahili in each of these contexts, particularly as a language for instruction and textbooks, the use of the language itself reproduces linguistic inequalities inherent in the continued sidelining of African languages within Africa and beyond. Linguistic Inequality In addition to lowering the relative status of Swahili within the cadre of languages in use in each context (e.g., English, French, and Spanish in Mexico City), the use of English signals the construction of collective identities in difference, and in some instances places emphasis on learners’ accuracy in English, rather than Swahili. One such example is found in how English is appropriated in the Dar es Salaam classroom as a language of instruction and translation. As illustrated in chapter 4, the prevailing notion held by the instructor of Swahili is that English is a language common to all in the class, even as students have different geographical origins (Austria, China, Ghana, Italy, the U.S.). The Tanzanian teacher’s aggregation of these students into a collective of non-Tanzanians allows for them to be viewed as all having the same abilities in, and preference for English, though this is not the case. Some students admit to being uncomfortable in the language and having mostly receptive abilities, and others, like the Ghanaian students, are openly productive in the language. Consequently, the teacher’s persistent use of English displaces Swahili, and in some instances, manifests as demonstrations of Englishlanguage competence by others during a learner’s (Bahati’s) use of English at the teacher’s request. 593 This type of English-language intervention in the Swahili-language classroom may be interpreted as a variation of Myers-Scotton’s (1993) conception of elite closure in which language is used to level another’s access to the dominant, English-speaking community. As formally educated, competent speakers of English, the Tanzanian teacher and Ghanaian learners are members of the African elite. Their English-language participation during Bahati’s English paraphrasing of the Cat and Mouse story draws attention to her relatively less competent navigation of the language in her re-telling, reminding everyone that she is a L+ speaker. As Bahati is compelled to perform the re-telling in English, rather than in Swahili as she would prefer, is an act that displaces Swahili, and curtails a potential opportunity for Bahati to demonstrate further competence in Swahili. This is consistent with the larger, Dar es Salaam university environment, where English is the mandate, and where Tanzanians often use English to approach learners of Swahili like Bahati, who are interested in using Swahili exclusively on campus. In Mexico City, Spanish and English each operate as languages of the formally educated elite. The university requirement of Spanish competency for L2 and L+ speakers ensures situations where some non-first-language speakers are interested in aligning their use of the language in with its use by of first-language speakers. This occurs in the Swahili-language classroom, where even as Swahili is explicitly requested of learners by the language teacher, this same teacher, an L+ Spanish-speaker, ultimately switches into Spanish following Spanishlanguage use by learners themselves. 594 Swahili as an Ecumenical Language This dissertation additionally illustrates the complex limits of Swahili as an ecumenical language. Referring to the speakers of Swahili who are East African residents, and Kenyan, Tanzanian, or Ugandan nationals, Mazrui (1998, p. 18) reflects: ‘At the moment the majority of those who speak Kiswahili speak it as a second or third language, and there is an increasing number of people who group up bilingual in Kiswahili and their own “tribal” language in Tanzania, Uganda, or Kenya. It will become increasingly difficult to say that whoever speaks Kiswahili as a first language is a Mswahili [sic]. Kiswahili is, therefore, less absorbtive than even Hausa, but that may also be its strength. The Waswahili, in the original sense of “the people of the coast”, were defined to some extent in terms of some degree of Arabization and Islamization. Because they are now politically marginal, their language stands a chance of being acceptable to others’. What Mazrui refers to is the story of the Swahili language, for which a core, historical group of speakers remains. Some of these Waswahili, whose historical homelands are within the political territory of Tanzania, are now enveloped into a nation that largely posits its collective identity on Standard Swahili as a shared language. The Tanzanian nation can be framed as an imagined community, because ‘the members of even the smallest nation will never know most of their fellow-members, meet them, or even hear of them, yet in the minds of each lives the image of their communion’ (Anderson, 2006, p. 6). Even as most Tanzanians are physically unknown to others in their country, their national identity is durable enough to facilitate racial and linguistic boundaries, like those that emerge in the Dar es Salaam Swahili-language classroom. 595 The Mzungu (White/non-African foreigner) can never be an Mswahili; they are constructed as mutually exclusive social identities. Then again, not all Tanzanians can be an Mswahili, as Mazrui (1998) outlines, because they are not first-language speakers of Swahili, and do not have coastal origins, or Arabized language and Muslim culture. At the same time, there is some degree of differentiation within the non-Tanzanian category between Mzungu (White/nonAfrican foreigner) and African (this is potentially reflected in the teacher’s particular interest in the Ghanaian learners’ description of Akan/Twi-language stories). And yet Mswahili is shown in this research to be more than an ethnolinguistic category, for it has the capacity to refer to linguistic eloquence in Standard Swahili. This firmly contrasts with Mzungu, which marks the incompetent speaker of Swahili, signifies socially constructed ‘race’ as phenotypically manifest in skin color, and brands social behaviors unbecoming of an ideal Tanzanian. These categorical distinctions have strong implications for the Swahili-language classroom in both Dar es Salaam and Mexico City. For the vast majority of learners in Dar es Salaam, authenticity in Swahili becomes tenuous, as they are continually viewed within the classroom as outsiders to the Tanzanian Swahili-speaking community. In the view of these learners as outsiders, the Tanzanian language instructor of intermediate Swahili exhibits low expectations of their ability in Standard Swahili (asking for very short stories) and insists that they should all be competent speakers of English. In addition, all Dar es Salaam textbooks and printed aids for learning Swahili are formulated for speakers of English. In this way, English remains a colonial spectre in the teaching and learning of Swahili. This altogether consolidates the teacher’s ‘power’ as an authentic, insider-speaker of Swahili, and serves to limit the performance by learners of a Swahili-language identity. 596 In Mexico City, further away from the coastal core of Swahili origins, the language can be viewed as having a discontinuous sociohistorical dimension, owing to the deportation of Zibaros from Zanzibar to Mexico for enslavement in the 1500s (Beltrán, 1946). In today’s Mexico City, however, Standard Swahili is Tanzanian, and it is African. Both first-language and L+ speakers of Swahili teach the language in the university classroom, removing the determination of authenticity in Swahili from being the most pressing question. More importantly, the physical distance of Mexico from Tanzania, as well the extremely limited number of modern-day speakers of Swahili within Mexican borders, ensures that the language is learned in a foreign language context (only one of the learners has ever traveled to Dar es Salaam). This clears the way for the construction of Tanzania as a dominant feature of Swahiliphone East Africa, and archetype of Africa. And it is the appropriation of Swahili by the African studies program as the sole African-language offering that develops into a site of struggle for learners, many of whom are focused upon non-Swahiliphone countries in their thesis research (e.g., Nigeria, Senegal, South Africa). Nevertheless, learners are proud of their investment in Swahili (as a result of their joining the African studies program), and take notice of limited opportunities to speak Swahili in their language course. These limitations are described as a consequence of the speaking of Spanish in the language classroom. However, when Swahili surfaces in the Spanish-medium course on African history (for which many of the readings are in English), it is used by the teacher to remind learners of their prescribed role as swahilistas (Swahilists) in the study of Africa. In this, the study of Swahili becomes central to the study of Africa. Effectively, this dissertation provides evidence of Swahili framed as a local language within Tanzania through classroom practice concerning hadithi ya Kiswahili (Swahili-language 597 story) as cultural artifact, as opposed to its framing as a global and Pan African language in Mexico through classroom practice involving news broadcasts, discussion of Swahili-language use in the U.S., and as related to Bantu languages throughout eastern African experience, as in the discussion of colonial vampires in Tanzania, and the Congo. This ideological misalignment explains how a Mexico City learner could travel to Tanzania and, like learners from Austria, China, Italy, South Korea, and the U.S., have encounters with local Tanzanians that challenge her expanding self-identification as a Swahili-speaker, and previous knowledge of Swahili, through assumptions that she is instead a primary speaker of English (she was actually a firstlanguage speaker of Spanish), an Mzungu, without any knowledge of Swahili. Additionally, these experiences with local Tanzanians are racialized and gendered. That is, Black Ghanaian learners are first assumed to be speakers of Swahili, rather than anything else. Differently, White (Austria, Mexico, U.S.) or Asian (China, South Korea) learners report being identified as Wazungu, in addition to Wachina (assigned to Asian learners), and consistently perceived to be unknowing of Swahili. This is consistent with previous research (e.g., Higgins, 2011a). For White and Asian women, some of these encounters with local Tanzanian men can be especially challenging because their personal space may be infringed upon as they are involuntarily touched or called ‘Baby, baby’ in addition to Mzungu (see chapter 2). On the whole, this evidence suggests that the while Swahili may be spreading to areas of the world outside of African countries, particularly through university programs in African studies, which encourage study abroad in Tanzania, authenticity in the language, within Tanzania remains governed by a local/outsider dichotomy. This limits the language’s potential of Swahili as one of the globalized languages, as Moshi (2006) terms it, because the core of authenticity and geographic Swahili-language identity, though having risen beyond the level of the Swahili 598 cultural community of the eastern African coastal region, to encompass a national and regional identity in Tanzania and East Africa, has yet to include areas outside of this region, including additional regions in Africa, and learners’ many countries of origin. A significant component to this framing of Swahili as a Tanzanian language is tied to the prevailing idea among many Tanzanians that Swahili is not a language studied beyond the boundaries of East Africa, and that there is reduced symbolic capital to be gained in its study, particularly by outsiders, who are not anticipated by Tanzanian as having had any previous experience with Swahili. These perceptions have been shown within this research to be linked to the ongoing status of English as ‘lugha ya maarifa’ (language of information/knowledge) and ‘lugha ya kufundishia’ (language of instruction) (see chapter 2) within Tanzania, and particularly on the Dar es Salaam university campus, where learners’ attest to experiences in which displays of English- and Swahililanguage competence compete. These data would also seem to suggest that before it will one day be, as Hamisi speculates, not surprising to Tanzanians to see Chinese speaking Swahili (see chapter 2), there will need to be some adjustment to the symbolic capital of Swahili as related to the status planning of the language within Swahili-speaking Africa, particularly where this intersects with education. In learners’ home countries where the study of Africa remains marginalized, and Swahili remains a less commonly taught language (LCTL), there are also additional related issues of structural power and inequity (e.g, Hymes, 1973; McCarty, Collins, Hopson, 2011). Becoming Swahili and Counter-Identities All of this—the categorization of Standard Swahili as Tanzanian practice, by both Tanzanians and Mexico City instructors, as well as the involvement of English and Spanish in 599 the teaching of Swahili, complicate the role of social identity in the learning Swahili from positions inside and outside of the African continent. This research illustrates that becoming Swahili is not about becoming an Mswahili. As social identity is dictated by Tanzanian communities of Swahili-speakers, an outsider-speaker can never become an Mswahili. In the face of this, the learner’s struggle is focused on becoming a recognized, culturally competent speaker of the language. Throughout this dissertation I develop an argument to expose shifting relations of power in the language classroom, and counter the exclusion of learners as speakers of Swahili within predominant discourse. In this work, the (re)telling of the hadithi ya Kiswahili (Swahili-language story) by Dar es Salaam learners is evaluated as an extension of the Swahili oral literary canon, and a (re)production of Tanzanian literary culture. With regards to the Mexico City classroom community of practice, it is my intent to give voice to learners’ concerns about the branding of African studies as Swahili studies, and detail their discussion of the Euro-American essentialization of Africa as an undifferentiated, Swahili-speaking geography. By juxtaposing these classroom discussions with the Swahili-focused activity of their African history class, I endeavor to show how their talk constitutes a Swahili-centered lens on Africa, thereby (re)producing some degree of essentialism in the study of Africa. Intersections in Second Language Research, African-Language Pedagogy, and African Studies The field of second language acquisition (SLA) research extends across cognitive and sociocultural investigations into the development of linguistic knowledge systems, as well as the myriad features of interaction that contribute to learning. The approach within these SLA 600 subfields can be viewed as having ‘never been to understand language use per se (i.e., use is not an end in itself), but rather to understand what types of interaction might bring about what types of changes in linguistic knowledge’ (Gass, 1998, p. 84). As such, research in SLA is enveloped within the broader field of second language studies (SLS), which includes research on language use, talk-in-interaction, and contexts of language learning. In turn, SLS falls under the guise of applied linguistics, which addresses an even broader arena of language-related concerns, including the interchange between language and society as manifest in the role of language in defining community and delivering education, as well as language policy and planning. The present study, as an investigation of the role of social identity and investments in language learning, is poised as a contribution to SLS, succeeding in the path of inquiry outlined by a host of previous investigations into identity, beginning at least in the 1990s (cf. Block, 2007; Gass, Lee, & Roots, 2007). Additionally, it is through the examination of the multiple implications of language use in both Dar es Salaam and Mexico City classrooms that this dissertation makes further contributions to conceptions of how power impacts learning, and is enacted through displays of social identity in language use. Part of this contribution constitutes an intervention of the type called for by Ndhlovu (2008) regarding collaborations in applied linguistics and African studies for the sake of producing more intricate research on African languages and African contexts. In using previous research in African studies to contextualize this study in applied linguistics, this dissertation illustrates how the two fields can contribute to the exploration of the classroom learning of African languages, in critical perspective. While this may be an intersection of the type foreseen by Schleicher and Moshi (2000) in their landmark volume, The pedagogy of African languages: An emerging field, this dissertation goes even further, by investigating the particulars of the 601 Swahili-language classroom as situated within programs in African studies. In doing so, this research highlights the various worldwide permutations of programs in African studies, some of which are not necessarily termed ‘African studies’ in African countries, and others still, which require the study of an African language, typically Swahili, as a degree requirement. Such attention to the institutional setting of African-language learning should make this research of interest to African-language instructors and pedagogues, as well as Africanists, and African studies program coordinators. As languages like Swahili continue to make inroads on their statuses as LCTLs outside of their typical contexts of usage, whether through area studies in Mexico City or programs in language, literature, and linguistics as in Dar es Salaam, there is an increasing need to reevaluate how the experience of language learning is constructed, defined, and imagined. How do linguistic practices—including language choice—outlined by institutions, and implemented by teachers, impact investments in learning Swahili? Should an Africanist be a Swahilist? Will Swahili continue to develop as one of the ‘globalized world languages’, as Moshi (2006, p. 166) puts it, like English, or will it remain demarcated by the linguistic practices of its primary speakers in Swahiliphone countries? Does the language as practiced in urban Tanzania present a social capacity to envelop non-Tanzanian and non-African speakers? This is where this dissertation makes a vital intervention, by using a lens informed by critical theory to illustrate how language ideologies operate (at times, covertly) in multilingual contexts of Swahili-language learning. In this research, this has encompassed a review of ideologies of standardization and monolingualism, as manifest in colonial histories and the contemporary language classrooms that feature in this ethnography. As Farr and Song (2011, p. 655) assert: 602 ‘When local agents negotiate or challenge the hegemony of language policies in their interpretation and implementation of them, they contest the ideologies that underlie the language policies, and they acknowledge the sociolinguistic reality of language use within multilingual contexts, including classrooms’. Compatible with the view of language ideology as related to language policy, the present research succeeds in making a contribution to the understanding of language policy at the microlevel of the language classroom and its actors. Dar es Salaam classroom talk illustrates how, as a result of the implementation of Tanzanian language policy, English is ensured a role in the teaching of Standard Swahili to non-first-language, non-Tanzanian speakers of the language, regardless of their comfort with English. Mexico City classroom talk details the long-distance reach of Tanzanian language policy into the learning of Swahili as a foreign language, which, like the Dar es Salaam classroom, necessitates prior knowledge of English to access instructional materials and dictionaries (published in Tanzania and the U.S.) on Standard Swahili. Across both contexts, ideologies of monolingualism lead to the maintaining of boundaries in multiple language use, such that codeswitching comprises interword alternations in code choice, and intraword instances are extremely rare. Additionally, patterns of using languages other than Swahili (e.g., English, Spanish) as languages of conversation and communication within the Swahili-language classroom in both Dar es Salaam and Mexico City confirm the observations of others with regard to the continued, lower symbolic value of African languages, as facilitated by language policy (e.g., Bokamba, 2011). In some cases, these policies impact investments in the learning of African languages such as Swahili. This was earlier discussed by Batibo (2003) with regards to Setswana-speaking learners of Swahili at Botswanan universities. In the present study, it appears that the status and acquisition planning of Swahili within 603 Tanzania results in the reinforced primacy of English within formal education, which facilitates the further subjugation of Swahili within the Swahili-language classroom on the English-medium university campus. These data suggest that future framings of Swahili as a language of African unity, Pan African communication, or ‘silaha ya Africa’ (weapon of Africa, Africa’s weapon) in the face of ‘utandawazi’ (globalization) and Western influence (Mutembei, 2011, p. 64), should account for the deep-rooted policy structures that reify the lower statuses of African languages within African countries and beyond. Integral to this research has been an emphasis on agency in the learner’s experience, and learner responses to prevailing linguistic practices and language ideologies of the classroom and relevant, interlocking material and imagined communities. This is in line with Higgins (2011c, p. 279), in acknowledging South-South flows in knowledge production, in which ‘language learners often transform and reshape these flows, incorporating them into their own local contexts, and they also create their own new spaces for negotiating identity amidst these flows’. Moshi (2006) also acknowledges the growing numbers of Swahili-speakers who originate in the U.S., Europe, and Asia, having studied the language at numerous universities that now offer Swahili as part of a global network of Swahilist professionals, pedagogues, and second-language speakers. Regarding these and other speakers of the language with origins outside of the African continent, Moshi (2006, p. 173) remarks: ‘There are a quite a number of students who have been studying Kiswahili over the years across the many institutions around the world who have made good use of that skill, perhaps working with key institutions of higher education, government and private agencies, and a variety of NGOs in Tanzania, Kenya, Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi, some work with the UN refugee settlement programs both in Africa and elsewhere. These 604 individuals add to the numbers in Europe and Asia and constitute the growing power of Kiswahili and its potential for becoming a global language’. Therefore, inasmuch as this research has comprised an exploration of the classroom as a site of struggle in becoming Swahili, this has also been an effort to describe in detail the experiences of non-first-language, non-Tanzanian speakers of Swahili. This serves two purposes: it adds to the growing recognition of these new speakers of the language, while demonstrating how the decisions made within Swahiliphone countries (namely Tanzania) regarding the prioritization of Standard Swahili reverberate throughout the Swahiliphone World in the form of language ideologies, instructional materials, and social identities constructed in difference. In particular, this research highlights South-South networks in the flows of language learning and knowledge production, and suggests that we must continue to develop our capacity to celebrate the experiences of language learners and be critical of language ideologies in the teaching of African languages, as well as in the production of Africanist knowledge, and the doing of applied linguistics. 605 APPENDICES 606 Appendix A Transcription Conventions unintelligible utterance wo::rd extended utterance word switch to another language word switch to additional language word emphasized utterance wor(d) utterance in which one sound (in the parentheses) is manipulated, and altered or removed by the speaker ‘word’ reported speech, in reference to an established text, or utterance first authored by someone else [.] pause shorter than one second [3.5] pause greater than one second ((action)) nonverbal action, tone of voice (?) rising intonation not leading to question formation S or Ss unknown student or students T teacher (classroom instructor) In translated gloss of transcripts: I have attempted to align, where possible, translations directly underneath their referent in the original number line of the transcript. This is not always possible due to differences in word order or word length between languages, but it should aid in reading the transcript. Extended 607 utterances are also not represented in the gloss, except in the utterances of hesitation (i.e., ‘u::h’, ‘ku::’, etc.) in order to reduce confusion. 608 Appendix B Table 8. Excerpts from interviews with Dar es Salaam participants. Favorite Swahili Learner Name (Meaning) Select Comments Word(s) 1. Aisha (Life, One who is alive and well) (a) Kwa sababu, nchini China, kuna watu wengi sana. Na siyo—siyo rahisi kwa wengi wao kupata ajira. Mkalimani Na Kiswahili ni kozi mpya, na watu wachache wanajifunza kozi hiyo. Hivyo, sasa nchini China (interpreter), baada ya kuhitimu, sisi, ni rahisi zaidi kupata ajira. Hivyo nilichagua kozi hiyo [ya Kiswahili]. yaani (that is) (Because, in [the country of] China, there are very many people. And it’s not—it’s not easy for many of them to get jobs. And Swahili is [a] new course/major, with few people learning that course/major. In that way, now in [the country of] China after graduating, we, it’s easier to get jobs. In that way I chose that course/major [of Swahili].) ! 609 Table 8 (cont’d) 2. Akida (Officer, Military commander) (a) In class, I prefer Swahili; English is understood. Punda (donkey), (b) Studying Swahili has opened up doors to speak with non-English speakers. kuzungumza (to (c) I like ‘karibu’ to remember the generosity I’ve been shown here. speak), karibu (welcome) 3. Bahati (Luck/Lucky) (a) Ndiyo watu wengi wanashangaa kwamba mimi au mwanafunzi mwengine, wageni wanapenda kujifunza Kiswahili kwa sababu wao wanafikiri wageni wanajua Kiingereza. Kwa hiyo ‘kwa nini wanataka kuzungumza Kiswahili?’ Ni swali ya wanafunzi au watu wengi hapa Tanzania. […] Ni ngumu kuboresha hapa. (Yes many people are surprised that I or another student [that] foreigners like to learn Swahili because they [local Tanzanians] think foreigners know English. Therefore ‘why do you want to speak Swahili?’ It’s [a] question of students or many people in Tanzania. […] It’s hard to improve [my Swahili] here.) 610 Methali (proverb) Table 8 (cont’d) 4. Bakari (Cow, Noble promise) (a) Siku moja, Watanzania wanapoona Wachina wanaposema lugha ya Kiswahili, hawatashangaa sana, Malaika (angel) nitafurahi zaidi! Yaani wakati ule, watu wengi wa China wataweza kuzungumza lugha ya Kiswahili zaidi. (One day, when Tanzanians see Chinese speaking [the] Swahili language, they will not be surprised, I will be [very] happy!) (b) Kweli, nchini China watu wachache sana wanajua lugha ya Kiswahili. Watu wengi hawajua Kiswahili ni nini. Marafiki wengi wangu, waliwahi kuniuliza ‘Kiswahili ni nini? Ni jina la nchi moja ya Afrika Mashariki?’ Nashangaa sana! (Truly, in [the country of] China very few people know [the] Swahili language. Many people [don’t know] what Swahili is. Many [of] my friends have [occasioned] to ask me ‘What is Swahili? Is it [the] name of [an] East African country?’ I’m so surprised/shocked! 5. Chausiku (Born at night) (a) They’re [Tanzanians] the first to switch to English! labda (maybe, perhaps), 611 Table 8 (cont’d) (b) I had always wanted to go to Zimbabwe, Kenya, or the Congo. Tanzania was the closest thing [for niambie (tell me) available study abroad]. 6. Eloise (a) […] the advanced class really […] challenges you to learn, to go out of your comfort zone; I like the Kipi kikusikitisha? class. There’s no place for English in that class. (what makes you sad?) 7. Emma (a) I don’t like [the advanced Swahili class ] very much. Because it’s just I think [the teacher][…] just Safi (nice), nzuri sits there and directs a little bit. [The teacher] tells us what to do, you—you—you:, you talk, And (good), ukwajuu then it’s like we are standing in front and, and talking or directing the whole, the whole lesson. I (tamarind) mean this is not really how I think I can learn a lot when my, my fellow students who make mistakes as well and who […] just use the words they have with the knowledge they know. So and [the teacher’s] like sitting behind and sometimes commands but not really gives a lot of input. 612 Table 8 (cont’d) (b) I was also […] waiting for a lot of input and also about grammar because there are many topics I’m, I just, I just want to know, to know more, or where I’m not completely sure if I know enough. (c) [The Tanzanians] do, they just, they love you as soon as they know you can speak Swahili. It’s actually a big different when I compare to my, to my first visit here in Tanzania when I knew just English. And it was like, ‘Ah you don’t even, if you’re here in Tanzania you should learn Swahili’. And even it in my second week, ‘Ah you’re here two weeks and you don’t know Swahili’, and ‘I will teach you’, and ‘It’s so easy’, and stuff like this. 8. Faki (Inner desire to become leader) (a) It’s awesome [here]! Everyday is a new experience. Shwari (cool), (b) I have learned very little in the Swahili class; [I learn more] speaking Swahili in the dorms. nakushukuru (thank you) 613 Table 8 (cont’d) 9. Felix (a) Wakati nilipoanza kujifunza Kiswahili, sipendi kuendelea na masomo ya Kiswahili. Kwa sababu watu wengi ndani chuo kikuu […] hawana heshima kwa Kiswahili. Wana heshima lugha kama Español, Kifaransa, na sasa, tuna Kichina chuoni. (When I stared learning Swahili, I [didn’t] like to continue with [the] studies of Swahili. Because many people in [my] university, they don’t have respect for Swahili. They respect languages like Spanish, French, and now, we have Chinese at [the] university.) (b) Masomo ya lugha kwa mimi inanipata faida bora, zaidi, kwa sababu nimeshapata faida kama kukutana na watu wanatoka sehemu mbalimbali, na pia nimeshajua jinsi Watanzania wanvyofanya kitu, kama wanapanda daladala, wanavyopika chakula, na jinsi walimu wanavyofundisha. ([Studying language] for me [brings] me more great benefits, because I’ve already gotten benefits like meetings with people from various places, and also [I now] know [the] way Tanzania do [things], like boarding the daladala, cooking food, and [the] way teachers teach.) 614 Shwari (cool) Table 8 (cont’d) 10. Gavin (a) We told [the teacher] in the beginning of the class that we want it to be focused more on speaking Punguza (lower than writing, which at first it seemed like [the teacher] was doing that but it just kind of got into more it), kama kawaida vocabulary that I don’t really feel like is necessary to know […] like about parts of the body and (as usual), mzuka disease. (cool), tetemeka (shake), nitakapotembea (when I will walk) 11. Gladys (a) Often, because we’re the same, they [Tanzanians] speak to you in Swahili because they don’t know you are foreign. When I say, ‘Mimi ni Mghana’ [I am Ghanaian] some think you are acting. (b) I’m a proud African: some Blacks, they don’t feel happy about being in Africa. They are not African, you have to be proud. And African is not necessarily the color; it’s someone who appreciates Africa. 615 Shagala baghala (chaos), utakatifu (holiness) Table 8 (cont’d) 12. Habiba (Beloved) (a) At first to—in Korea, search internet [Africa] very dangerous. And [now] water—water not, hot Penda (love/like), water. But in Tanzania we’ve been here, oh, not bad. Oh, people is very 밝다 [balgda]. Kind? Kind asante (thank and peaceful. Very good. Uh [they’re the first ones to say] ‘Mambo? (What’s up?)’ you), haraka (b) ‘Habiba’ is same [similar sounding] as Korean ‘Ha-bi-bo-da’ (to reach an agreement). haraka (fast fast) 13. Hamisi (Born on Thursday) (a) Nafikiri kwa wanafunzi wa Tanzania, wakati wanapoona wageni wanaozungumza kwa Kiswahili, nafikiri ni wao labda wanashangaa sana. Na kwetu, nafikiri, tunaona fahari. Kwa sababu tunaweza kuzungumza Kiswahili, vizuri, labda kidogo. (I think for Tanzanian students, when they see foreigners [who] are speaking in Swahili, I think they are really surprised. And here [for our part], I think, we appear prideful. Because we can speak Swahili, well, perhaps a little bit.) (b) Na sisi Wachina tunaona wageni kama WanaUlaya au Marekani wanaweza kuzungumza Kiswahili vizuri sana. Kwa wageni lugha za nchi nyingine ni ngumu kwa wageni kujifunza. (And we Chinese we see foreigners like [Europeans] or Americans [that] can speak Swahili very well. For foreigners [the] languages of another country are difficult for foreigners to learn.) 616 Nakupenda (love/like you) Table 8 (cont’d) 14. Happiness (a) Niliambie kwamba Tanzania ni nchi pekee, na watu, watu wa Tanzania wanasema Kiswahili kizuri Nakupenda na Standard Kiswahili. [I was told] that Tanzania is [the] only country, with people, people of (love/like you), Tanzania speak good Swahili and Standard Swahili.) Mrembo (b) My expectation’s kusema kama watu wa Tanzania (to speak like Tanzanian people). (beautiful person) (c) There’s really nothing different from Ghana because most people here are Black, and they are friendly. […] Except when you try to speak the language and then you’re making the errors and then they will notice ‘Oh this girl is like, is not a Tanzanian’. 15. Lulu (Pearl) (Chinese learner) (a) […] ningependa kuwa na nafasi ya kufanya kazi hapa Tanzania, au huko nchini China kwa sababu, nafikiri Kiswahili ni kozi yangu, ni nzuri zaidi kutumia kozi yangu kufanya kazi. Ama kuhusu ualimu au kuhusu tafsiri. (I would like to have [the] opportunity to work here in Tanzania, or there in [the country of ] China because I think Swahili is my course/major, it’s very good to use my course/major to work. Concerning education or translation.) 617 Mwezi (month) Table 8 (cont’d) 16. Lulu (Pearl) (South Korean learner) (a) Korean culture is fast fast. Tanzanian culture is slow slow. Haraka haraka (b) I use Swahili in university, just to ‘Mambo, poa’ (What’s up, cool). But, I’m going to Mwenge, uh, (fast fast), pole ‘Bei gani’ (What price), blah-blah-blah. Swahili. More use. (c) I like Kiswahili, uh Swahili pronan—what is it? 발음 [bal-eum] (Pronounciation)? Pronunciation, sana (very sorry/slow), ninapenda (I it’s very cute. [.] Oh Swahili is very cute. love/like) (d) But Tanzanian think, think, foreigner, foreigner, foreigner, is money. Bajaji and taxi very expensive. The price the—and ah! I, I—I don’t speak Swahili and English, Tanzanian is very, ‘Why don’t speak Swahili or English?’ ‘Why, why’. Oh. ‘Why, are you coming?’ Just I […] I learning English(y). I’m learn English(y). 16. Maua (Flowers) (a) [In class], I want as much Swahili as possible. freshi (fresh, cool), 618 Table 8 (cont’d) tulia (quiet/calm down), mzuka (cool) 17. Ndoto (Dream) (a) Because Korean knows about […] most of Koreans don’t know about Swahili—the language of Swahili, so, in my case, I told my friend, ‘I’m going to Tanzania’, so he—‘at there I, I have to use Karibu (welcome) Swahili’. And she replied ‘What is the language Swahili? Kiswahili?’ (b) In Korea there are lots of documentary programs from [about] Africa. So yes. I thought actually that almost all Africa is rural. Or not a city—or not, more like urban city. Yes, but I came here, yes, well it’s better than I thought. But the weather, and smog. (c) I use three [to introduce myself to Tanzanians]! My Korean name, and English name, and Swahili. 18. Raha (Happiness) (a) [No interview] Mambo? (What’s up?) 619 Table 8 (cont’d) 19. Suleiman (Success, Luck) (a) Afrika ni bara lenye ajabu sana. (Africa is a very amazing/exciting continent.) Wanakaribishwa (b) Wakati ninapoona wenyeji wa Tanzania, kuzungumza Kiswahili kumekuwa tabia yangu. (When I see (they are local Tanzanians, speaking Swahili has become my behavior/attitude.) (c) Ningekuwa na nafasi, nataka kufanya kazi kuhusu Kiswahili, kwa sababu, mimi nimejifunza Kiswahili. Katika siku za mbele, inanibidi nitumie Kiswahili. Nafikiri Kiswahili ni lugha muhimu. (If I have [the] chance, I want to work [in something] concerning Swahili, because, I have learned Swahili. In the days ahead [the future], it behooves me to use Swahili. I think Swahili is [an] important language.) (d) Ni bora nitumie Kiswahili kueleza utamaduni wa China [kwa Watanzania]. Au kueleza utamaduni wa Tanzania kwa Wachina. (It [would be] great [if] I use Swahili to explain Chinese culture [to Tanzanians]. Or to explain Tanzanian culture to [the] Chinese.) (e) [Nilichagua jina la Suleiman] kwa sababu ilisikia yaani very cool! (I chose the name Suleiman because it [sounded] like very cool!) 620 welcome) Appendix C Table 9. Excerpts from interviews with Mexico City participants (university learners). Favorite Swahili Learner Name Select Comments Word(s) 1. Ana (a) ‘Mwalimu’ (teacher) is one of the words that we use a lot. There are no professors here anymore. Maisha (life), sukuma (push), Only mwalimus. (b) You see, […] we all know since very little because—because we are taught that in the school that we are a kind of a, new race […] between Spaniards, Africans, and Indi—Indigenous or Indios (Indians). nakupenda (l love/like you), (c) And I recognize the importance of Swahili in Africa in general. And in the international arena, I mean maisha ni vile it was the first African language to be recognized as an African language at the United Nations. (d) […] I do understand that the language [Swahili] is very important if you want to go to primary sources but I mean, for the people who are studying China, Mandarin is like, mandatory. People who are studying Japan, Japanese is mandatory. But, you know, Africa is not a country. Africa is a continent. And there are so many languages in Africa. 621 (life’s like that) Table 9 (cont’d) 2. Eliza (a) At the beginning, I was not very close to Swahili—I [didn’t] love it, it was just a subject. When I was Kupenda (to in Africa [Senegal], I met people from Kenya, from Burundi, and from Uganda, and it was very good love/like), to, to be able to talk in a language like Swahili because, even [though] I don’t have a lot of fluency or mapendo (likes), vocabulary, I can—it was very funny because, for example, we were both students—foreign nafasi (chance, students—one was from USA and me from Mexico, and she was working [on] basketball in Senegal opportunity), […] and she [spoke] very well Wolof […] but [the] persons who were there are not Senegalese inshaallah (if people. They come from Kenya, from Nigeria, from Cameroon, from the, Burundi, and it was very God allows) funny because they were more closer to me because I am able to speak Swahili. They are happy because ‘Ah, where did you learn Swahili?’ And in that I [felt] accepted by them, and just, there was a girl from the Congo and she [didn’t] like that I was speaking with her in Swahili. She told me ‘I speak in French’. I don’t know what she was thinking about, maybe ‘I’m not just a Swahili parlante’ (speaker). 622 Table 9 (cont’d) 3. Jazmín (a) Y aquí, imagínate si hubiera alguien que no supiera inglés. Por lo menos comprender inglés simple y Kupenda (to sencillamente no podría llevar acabo la maestría. Ni aprender swahili porque los libros que llevamos love/like), sijali (I están en inglés para swahili. (And here, imagine if there was someone who didn’t know English. At don’t care), the very least understanding plain and simple English [they] wouldn’t be able to undertake the nilipokuwa mtoto Master’s. Nor learn Swahili because the books we [take on] are in English for [explaining] Swahili.) (when I was [a] (b) […] la mayoría de los países que lo hablan [swahili son del Åfrica del este]. Pero también, en general child), nilizoea (I porque mucho del material que está haciendo y todo los ámbitos, también incluso las relaciones got used to), internacionales, está en swahili. Porque se piensa que swahili es como, podría llegar a ser la lengua zamani za kale africana. No estoy muy de acuerdo en eso, pero bueno así es como se ha manejado y se ve que por ([a] long time ejemplo los noticieros internacionales que hablan de todo África, mucho está en swahili. (the ago) majority of the countries that speak [Swahili are of East Africa]. But also, in general because much of the material that is done/made and all the areas, also including international relations, it’s en Swahili. Because it’s thought that Swahili is like, it could reach being the African language. I’m not so [much in agreement with] that, but well [that’s how] it’s managed/treated and viewed that for 623 Table 9 (cont’d) example the international news outlets that speak about all [of ]Africa, many are in Swahili. (c) Sí [entender una lengua africana agrega mi capaz] porque no es lo mismo que haya una persona que diga que es africanista, y que solamente lee inglés o francés. Que haya otra persona que diga que es africanista y que a lo mejor saber lo mismo pero es capaz de ir a Tanzania y hablar con la gente y pedir consejos o, o preguntar cómo está la situación en su país. […] O que sea capaz de abrir un libro, que esté, un libro de política internacional en África, que está en swahili de una fuente africana y traducirlo y sacar sus conclusiones a leer un libro en inglés. […] creo que le da mayor peso a la investigador. (Yes [understanding an African language adds [to] my ability) because it’s not the same as a person that says they’re [an] Africanist, and that only reads English or French. [There’s a difference between that and a] person who says they’re [a] Africanist and who perhaps knows the same [things] but is able to go to Tanzania and speak with people and ask for advice or, or ask how is the situation in [that] country. […] Or that’s able to open a book, that is, a book of international politics in Africa, which is in Swahili [as] a African [primary] source and translate it and [make] their conclusions [as opposed to] reading a book in English. […] I think that it give greater weight to the researcher. 624 Table 9 (cont’d) 4. Luna (a) I do think that yeah, like it [Swahili] helps you to get closer to the culture. But what I don’t know is Kaka (brother), that I actually can relate to Africa as a whole. I mean, I can relate to East Africa. But I’m not sure, I Kurukaruka (to mean, I don’t like to generalize Africa as like, a whole culture or something. I think that’s more a jump repeatedly), discourse than a reality. (b) I get distracted very easily with the way they teach, cause it’s—first, we’re always doing the same things on Mondays, we do this, and Tuesdays we do this. You already know—I mean, it’s pretty boring sometimes. And then, sometimes I feel that, that we don’t, I don’t know, that we’re not learning now, that much. I think we should go to the basics again, instead of some examples of like, a song. Yeah, I don’t know we’re learning much now. (c) Actually today was a little bit embarrassing because I did it [wrote my Swahili email] this morning really fast! So I knew I had lot of mistakes, I was like, ‘Oh’. [The focus is always on our mistakes], and not very much on the message. 625 Table 9 (cont’d) 5. Natalia (a) When I try to define myself in racial terms, I don’t feel that—because I have Black family, and shauri lako ([it’s afro—eh, African descendants […] in Cuba, the racial margins are [not so rigid], and we have your problem]), different definitions for each kind of person. For example, me, I’m a person who can pass for White. hamna shida (no But I’m not real White, we can say. And some people would say that I’m jabá. People with White problem), mzuka skin, but the hair’s like very very curly. Very curly and it’s more than curly. (cool), kuuza sura (b) Well I have a lot of spaces to communicate with people in Swahili—through Facebook, I have some (to sell face), kula friends […] and even I have an Italian and a Nicaraguan friend, but we talk in Swahili. […] Actually, upepo (to shoot they speak Swahili very well because they stayed in Tanzania for a whole year at the university in [the] breeze) Dar es Salaam. 6. Ximena (a) I mean, they [Mexicans] find it like more appropriate or nice to say to a person who is essentially Zawadi (gift), Black to say Morena (Brown-skinned) because it’s like denying the fact that, that he or she is actually pasipoti Black. And they’re giving him or her like a new and lighter identity by saying Morena, which might (passport), rafiki include people who are very Black and people who are like, lighter Black. And I think it’s, I think it’s (friend), 626 Table 9 (cont’d) the way, the way of, I mean, they’ve found to, the way they have found of dealing with the race issue Fimbo la mbali in a euphemistic way. haiuwi nyoka (b) And sometimes me and my friends we use Swahili like in the dining room to speak about people so ([the] distant stick has no they don’t know what we’re saying about. (c) For instance, we always say that there’s a particular girl […] we say she is like an opportunist you know. […] And since ‘opportunity’ is like ‘nafasi’ in Swahili, we call her the ‘Nafasista’. […] Sometimes we use as well the word ‘umbo wa kike’ (female body shape) to call someone a bitch, I mean, some girl who’s a bitch we say ‘umbo wa kike’. (d) […] all the materials we’re given to read in the classroom are basically written in English. But allegedly this is a place, I mean, created to produce knowledge, and good quality knowledge about Africa […] in Spanish, since there are not many center to produce knowledge about Africa […] in Spanish-speaking countries. […] But I mean all the references we’re given, almost all the books we study or we read or we use in our research are written either in English or in French, but mostly in English. 627 snakes) Table 9 (cont’d) (e) Yeah, I mean, I somehow appreciate learning Swahili and though all my commentaries might lead you to think that I am very, I don’t know like, I have like a big resentment with Swahili, I do, but only in the sense that I have kind of rejected the way Swahili has been forced on me in a very specific way. If I, I mean, had I learned Swahili in a very different way perhaps I would have liked it more, or even more than the way I like it right now because I actually like it. ! ! 628 REFERENCES 629 REFERENCES Agan, A. O. (2006). 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