The following column from the Addis Ababa weekly, The Reporter, was
seen at
http://www.ethiopianreporter.com/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=6952
via http://allafrica.com/stories/200607170290.html . It is a little
long but it's a really nice set of reflections on science & technology
in first & second languages. Well worth the read... DZO
"Life & Art: My Story: Engulfato-ed and Going Nowhere"
The Reporter (Addis Ababa)
COLUMN
July 15, 2006
By: Yared Mengistu
The car sputtered and died somewhere between the Ministry of Foreign
Affairs and the Jubilee Palace. Notwithstanding the pretty
surroundings, pushing the car out of the way of oncoming traffic was
an embarrassing affair. A few minutes later, the car was parked at the
African Unity park. Amid the lush trees planted by the likes of Jomo
Kenyatta and Sedar Senghor, and with the exotic roars of the lions
still gracing the old Emperor's palace compound serving as background,
the hood was popped open, and we were all sticking our curious noses
underneath it, eager to figure out the mystery.
As a schoolboy, anything out of the ordinary was an event, and even
though I knew I was going to be late for school, this was excitement!
I had looked with envy at my father doing the "fun" jobs...cleaning
out the carburetor, replacing the brake pads, drying out the
distributor caps after a wash, changing spark plugs, etc....while I
was relegated to the mundane task of washing the car. So a chance to
look at the guts of this old Renault was wonderful.
Not too long after the car had come to a complete standstill, we were
surrounded by the (expected) spontaneously formed band of would-be
analysts and troubleshooters. None looked like he had ever had a day's
worth of formal education, but soon exotic words were emanating from
everyone's lips.
"Frisionu alqo new," says one.
"Yenedaj tubow tedefno new," says another.
"Engulfato huno new," says a third.
Of all the words I heard that morning, it was this last one,
"engulfato", that somehow captured my fancy. I knew "frision" and
"yenedaj tubo" but "engulfato" sounded like some major catastrophe.
The mystery about its meaning and its possible power made even more of
an impact when I eventually heard the word used again during the
exercise of the cure, which involved unplugging a tube, sucking
gasoline from it, running the engine without the tube, and spitting
the gasoline into what I later found out was the "carburetor". As far
as I was concerned, this was surgery of no minor consequence. I had
seen what was done, but the words used in the process of diagnosing
and curing the problem were so alien that I felt I needed to be
initiated into some arcane priesthood.
"Engulfato", I was told, referred to a condition where there is too
much fuel in the carburetor of a car. The air-fuel mixture becomes too
rich and the engine just cannot find enough air to burn the fuel
supplied to it. Of the crowd that hung around, most had heard of the
word, and some had lucked out in using the word when diagnosing our
problem. Most had no idea what it meant. There were a couple of people
who did, and yes, they were among the initiated few who had had the
luck of working in a garage where this particular word resides in comfort.
But did they know what the word implied?
Years later, I found out that "engulfato" was an Italian word, and its
English translation was - hold on to your seats - "engulfed". For
someone who knew Italian, hearing the word "engulfato" conveyed
something infinitely more than a particular type of problem in an
internal combustion engine. An old Italian nun who had never left her
convent outside of Venezia would, on hearing the word "engulfato",
immediately want to know what was engulfed and with what. She would
sense that the condition of being engulfed perhaps needed reversing -
where some excess fluid would probably have to be removed or reduced.
And thus, from a single word she would have a sense of the problem,
and some idea of its solution.
In a sense, societies such as Ethiopia's are versions of the schoolboy
that I was back then. We are aware that there is some vast world of
extremely useful and pertinent knowledge out there, but we do not have
easy access to it because the gateway to this knowledge is an alien
language. There is a severe disjoint between the language that the
society at large uses to define and celebrate itself, and that which
the society's thinkers and teachers use to retain, ponder and enrich
their skills and wisdom.
Imagine yourself a native Amharic speaker walking down one of Addis'
promenades and seeing a car rendered immobile. You have never heard
Italian, cannot read English and have never worked in a garage. You
crowd in to find out what is going on. Which of the following two
descriptions of the problem would be enlightening?
1. "Carburettoru engulfato hono new," or
2. "Ye-ayer inna nedajj medebaleQiyaw be nedajj teTleqlqo new"
Obviously, response number two not only explains the situation much
better, but has the added benefit of having taught a layperson
something about how an engine works. Even more important, this
statement could potentially spark an interest among the uninitiated in
some of the mechanical arts.
There are so many dimensions to this issue of language and knowledge
that no one paper can do it justice. But this author is convinced that
a discussion of science and technology and Ethiopia cannot go far
without taking into account what this is ultimately all about -
empowering people. And there is no empowerment more relevant and more
effective than the passing of pertinent knowledge across to those who
desperately need it.
Those of us who have the privilege of calling ourselves professionals
in America or Europe have had countless resources spent on us to teach
us English so that we can pick up knowledge in that language. Today,
we do profit from it. In the grand scheme of things, we are no more
intelligent nor our lives more valuable than our compatriots who have
not had our good fortune. And beyond earning that paycheck, neither
are we more likely to use our knowledge to directly change our lives.
On the other hand, it is not inconceivable to think that a potential
Einstein is herding his sheep in the hills of MoTa, or riding her
camel to the Thursday market in Bati. The difference between us and
them is that they do not get to hear or read about the wonderful world
of science and its resultant marvels of technology in the same
language they use to call their younger brother to play "dibibiqosh"
or their aunt to partake of some "abol bunna".
Not only is an alien language a barrier to grasping useful knowledge,
but in many ways it de-sensitizes the non-native speaker from the
actual excitement and marvel of knowledge gained through science. I
remember once explaining the tide to a relative, in Amharic. Her
reaction? My little speech sounded so unbelievable that she thought I
was making fun of her. But I cannot blame her...whoever heard of the
moon pulling on the earth's waters? The notion that the moon is
engaged in a fantastic tug of war with the earth for the planet's seas
is really incredible. But, she could appreciate just how amazing the
whole thing is when it was explained in terms of the things she can
relate to in her day-to-day life. I can imagine the countless young
and fertile imaginations that would be fired up if they were to hear
the same thing.
Almost all of us reading this on-line magazine are college educated.
Locked away in our brains is knowledge that is the result of hundreds
of years' worth of scientific research and study. Just a tiny fraction
of that knowledge can make such a difference if effectively
transmitted to those who need it most!
As I said before, there are any number of dimensions to this issue.
There may be those who will ask if I am recommending teaching college
in local vernacular. Ask whether we have the resources to translate
every college textbook into Amharic. Ask whether we can indeed agree
on one language or more, etc. etc. Before I explain my particular
corner of this issue, let me give you some perspective.
In this country, I have been an avid follower of popular science and
technology publications and broadcast media presentations. I have
worked as a volunteer in high school science and technology mentoring
and competition programs. I have talked to countless average people,
generally with non-technical jobs and careers, about their hobbies of
rocketry, or gunsmithing, or software, or modifying their cars for
racing. I have listened in astonishment to the story of a Michigan
thirteen-year-old who actually went a long way towards creating a
nuclear reactor in his backyard. (He got all his parts and radioactive
materials from garbage. His whole shed became so radioactive that the
government eventually confiscated the whole thing and buried it with
the rest of the national nuclear waste in Nevada.)
The point to all this is that, for those who are interested, a vast
amount of useful and comprehensible technical information is available
at any age and comprehension level outside of the formal education system.
When it comes to language and technology, I am interested in two
things. One is popularizing science and technology so that people do
not have to go to college to know how they can improve their water
wells or change their stoves so their wood lasts longer. A little work
with those who spend their days pounding a lump of iron ore into a
doma or maresha can transform them into small scale foundry men -
melting and pouring iron instead of beating it into shape. There is a
deep hunger out there for life-saving and immediately practical knowledge.
My other interest is in encouraging children's interest in science and
technology. Children are the ones who dare to ask the simplest and yet
most profound questions. Why is the sky red at sunset? Why does a
pellet launched by a slingshot come back down to the ground? Why does
water flow downhill instead of up? Science has an answer to all of
these questions. Not only can science answer these questions, but the
responses can lead to many more fantastic things. The optics of
sunsets can lead into explaining the eyeglasses worn by Grandma. The
rockets strapped to the space shuttle are just the latest
manifestation of humanity's urge to throw things higher and farther so
they do not come back like that pellet.
There will come a time when the vision of a child in Ambassel reading
about and understanding gene splicing in an Amharic book or newspaper
will come true. In the meantime, those of us who have the knowledge
need to keep this issue in mind. The greatest contribution we can make
is to share knowledge - to pass it along and distribute it. Right now,
we are "engulfato-ed". We are choking with knowledge, but since we are
not seeding it into the air of the popular culture, the fire that
would move us forward cannot ignite and, as a result, we are stuck and
going nowhere.
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