There have been several articles in the newspapers lately (Washington Post, New York Times) about a project done by the National Geographic Society and the Living Tongues Institute for Endangered Languages of Salem, Ore. about languages that are disappearing.
According to the Washington Post article, "Of the approximately 7,000 languages spoken, about half are expected to disappear in this century."
This makes me so sad. I find language fascinating and it will be an enormous tragedy to lose so many ways of speaking over the next hundred years. Having begun my Spanish training in middle school, I didn't realize what I was getting myself into. We had a "preview" day where we could sit in on French and Spanish classes to get a feel for what they would be like. Before this preview I was leaning towards French, since it was on the television and all of the labels in Canada where my Nana lives. However, on that fateful preview day, the French class seemed rather boring (headsets and memorization) while the Spanish class seemed like an eternal fiesta with sombreros and loteria (bingo)! So, my decision was made and Spanish became my language of study.
I realized once I was in the class, that although the parties were always fun, I really enjoyed learning the language as well. And, I was decent at it. In high school I was fortunate enough to be able to go on a three week trip to Costa Rica and live with a family during that time. That was the turning point for me -- the point where I knew I had to be able to speak Spanish fluently. I hated that although I felt like I knew what I was saying, the family I lived with just looked at me like I was crazy. When I returned home, I dug in and kept taking classes.
In college, I decided on a semester abroad in Segovia, Spain. When I arrived there, arrogant and self assured that I would understand everything after eight years of classes, I was very surprised to find that I couldn't understand a word. Everyone spoke so incredibly fast and I quickly realized that my vocabulary was extremely limited. Again, I dug in, made good friends who helped me along with grammar and slang, and studied harder than I ever have before. By the time I left, I was fluent in Spanish.
After graduation, I applied to the Peace Corps, hoping to continue to use my Spanish in a way that might not only benefit me, but others as well, through volunteer service. When they sent me to Panama, I was again thinking how easy it would be -- after all I was fluent in Spanish now. When I was placed in a Kuna community, I was quickly knocked off my high horse since the majority of the women I worked with spoke Dulegaya and only limited Spanish.
Dulegaya is an unwritten language, unrelated to Spanish. It is incredibly beautiful and poetic -- the Kuna are true orators and have a lovely way of expressing themselves. It took me a good year before I could easily converse in Dulegaya and even then I still pulled in words from Spanish when I lacked a word to express an idea. I did enjoy being able to tell a joke and often my name alone was enough of a joke. Moli, as it turns out, is a tapir or horse. That, along with the fact that I am fairly tall, especially when compared with the generally small stature of the Kuna, made for a lot of good laughs.
At any rate, this post has gotten rather long and entirely focused on me instead of what I wanted to focus on -- the disappearance of languages. I just feel so strongly that incredibly amounts of knowledge and culture will be lost with these languages. I am not sure if Dulegaya is imminently at risk, but being (for the most part) unwritten, I imagine that the likelihood of it surviving indefinitely is slim. The good news is there are Kuna who are actively and passionately working to maintain their culture and ways, which of course includes language. The difficulty is, with the introduction of outside influences via television and the Internet, things are inevitably changing. It will be interesting to see how my dear Kuna friends maintain what is theirs while moving forward with technology. They are amazing people and I know they will find a way to make things work.
I do hope that, although I am not directly teaching Eleanor and Henry either Spanish or Dulegaya on a daily basis, they will be able to appreciate and possibly learn to speak another (or some other) languages. I think that much can be learned by understanding how others think and express themselves.
Here I am with my dear friends Hirabely and Melina when they were in the United States a couple of years ago:
According to the Washington Post article, "Of the approximately 7,000 languages spoken, about half are expected to disappear in this century."
This makes me so sad. I find language fascinating and it will be an enormous tragedy to lose so many ways of speaking over the next hundred years. Having begun my Spanish training in middle school, I didn't realize what I was getting myself into. We had a "preview" day where we could sit in on French and Spanish classes to get a feel for what they would be like. Before this preview I was leaning towards French, since it was on the television and all of the labels in Canada where my Nana lives. However, on that fateful preview day, the French class seemed rather boring (headsets and memorization) while the Spanish class seemed like an eternal fiesta with sombreros and loteria (bingo)! So, my decision was made and Spanish became my language of study.
I realized once I was in the class, that although the parties were always fun, I really enjoyed learning the language as well. And, I was decent at it. In high school I was fortunate enough to be able to go on a three week trip to Costa Rica and live with a family during that time. That was the turning point for me -- the point where I knew I had to be able to speak Spanish fluently. I hated that although I felt like I knew what I was saying, the family I lived with just looked at me like I was crazy. When I returned home, I dug in and kept taking classes.
In college, I decided on a semester abroad in Segovia, Spain. When I arrived there, arrogant and self assured that I would understand everything after eight years of classes, I was very surprised to find that I couldn't understand a word. Everyone spoke so incredibly fast and I quickly realized that my vocabulary was extremely limited. Again, I dug in, made good friends who helped me along with grammar and slang, and studied harder than I ever have before. By the time I left, I was fluent in Spanish.
After graduation, I applied to the Peace Corps, hoping to continue to use my Spanish in a way that might not only benefit me, but others as well, through volunteer service. When they sent me to Panama, I was again thinking how easy it would be -- after all I was fluent in Spanish now. When I was placed in a Kuna community, I was quickly knocked off my high horse since the majority of the women I worked with spoke Dulegaya and only limited Spanish.
Dulegaya is an unwritten language, unrelated to Spanish. It is incredibly beautiful and poetic -- the Kuna are true orators and have a lovely way of expressing themselves. It took me a good year before I could easily converse in Dulegaya and even then I still pulled in words from Spanish when I lacked a word to express an idea. I did enjoy being able to tell a joke and often my name alone was enough of a joke. Moli, as it turns out, is a tapir or horse. That, along with the fact that I am fairly tall, especially when compared with the generally small stature of the Kuna, made for a lot of good laughs.
At any rate, this post has gotten rather long and entirely focused on me instead of what I wanted to focus on -- the disappearance of languages. I just feel so strongly that incredibly amounts of knowledge and culture will be lost with these languages. I am not sure if Dulegaya is imminently at risk, but being (for the most part) unwritten, I imagine that the likelihood of it surviving indefinitely is slim. The good news is there are Kuna who are actively and passionately working to maintain their culture and ways, which of course includes language. The difficulty is, with the introduction of outside influences via television and the Internet, things are inevitably changing. It will be interesting to see how my dear Kuna friends maintain what is theirs while moving forward with technology. They are amazing people and I know they will find a way to make things work.
I do hope that, although I am not directly teaching Eleanor and Henry either Spanish or Dulegaya on a daily basis, they will be able to appreciate and possibly learn to speak another (or some other) languages. I think that much can be learned by understanding how others think and express themselves.
Here I am with my dear friends Hirabely and Melina when they were in the United States a couple of years ago:
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