Ageing language receptors

We blithely expected that we would be speaking the language within weeks or months. We forgot that the last time either of us learned a foreign language was when the language receptors of our brains were fresh and young, and not the atrophied mess that passes for brain matter in our aged noddles. We also did not count on the fact that the Afrikaans are an extremely courteous people, and in any social situation where the mad Engelse pair is present, everyone switches into English (unless they are having a skinner about us, obviously).

Our first real encounter with the language as residents as opposed to tourists was on our second day in SA. We had been recommended a shop in Hermanus where they could sell us, at a decent price, absolutely everything we needed to move in, a bed, a cooker, kitchen equipment, TV etc.  etc. and deliver it to Swellendam the following day. Everything went smoothly until it was time to pay, the sum of money being so large that it was necessary to discuss the transaction with the vendor’s bank manager. Who was on the golf course.  And who did not want to be interrupted baie dankie.  The one end of the conversation we were privileged to hear was loud, angry, delivered with a very red face, and we understood every word – swear words in Afrikaans and English may be spelt differently, but they sound exactly the same.

We grinned at each other – this was going to be easy. We would have this Afrikaans malarkey sorted in no time.  But you cannot rely on swear words to get you through daily life in Swellendam (unless, as my husband soon discovered, you are watching Rugby down at the pub).  I was unfortunate enough to find out through a shocked reaction from the neighbours, that it is far, far better to entice a cat in your direction by saying in a wheedling tone “Here, kitty, kitty,” and not the word that I had been using.

Reading road signs has been another good way to extend vocabulary.  We spent some time wondering who the members were of the Green Toe Gang who seemed to have access to many of the paths in Bontebok Park.  Husband was quite keen to find the Slag gate, behind which he was sure was going to find lots of ‘easy’ women.  So busy was he looking that he drove right into one of the potholes about which he was being warned. I am also ashamed to admit being to childishly and momentarily amused when we first came upon signs saying “Slaghuis” and “Hoerskool”.  (“They have a school for that? Brilliant!” said Josh the devil teenage mini-gapper mentioned in an earlier blog entry

For written communication much of the time I rely on “Google Translate”, which is not too bad if I use it to translate from Afrikaans into English, but is utterly untrustworthy the other way round. Because I don’t know if it is wrong or right.  I used to send Swellengrams which I believed I had translated correctly, and then would receive e-mails in reply, ranging from polite suggestions of corrections, to others which you could tell had been accompanied by howls of derisive laughter as they were being typed.

Ek praat nie Afrikaans nie

Recently, noticing my struggle with the language as Mrs Gram on Swellengram, Sue, a kind resident of Swellendam, offered to help out with lessons – I was not the only one with a desire to learn, and a small group of people gathered each week to learn vocabulary and idiom.  Sadly for me, the first vocabulary list to learn was useful words for shopping and cooking, my two least favourite activities. (Beauty has just read this over my shoulder and sighed: “You see, I told you – you are NOT a proper Madam”). As Sue went around the class asking us what we intended to buy / cook at the weekend, my heart sank. I didn’t even have an answer in English.

Being an ex-teacher, I had a great deal of sympathy for Sue, because  the different levels of understanding, intelligence and behaviour in our group was just as diverse as any modern comprehensive in the UK. (OK, I admit, I was the naughty one) Fortunately for Sue, my ability to attend lessons on a regular basis has forced me to drop out, and now I am learning from an app on my iPad. It is however an app for tourists, so whilst I am learning to say “what a wonderful country you have here”  “can you tell me how to get to the airport” (delivered in an incredibly monotonous tone, like Voice-Over App Lady), it is not really helping me to join in or eavesdrop on the local skinner.  Which is, if I am honest, my primary reason for wanting to learn Afrikaans.

Other advice I have been given is to watch the ‘soapies’, and I have tried. But I am just so fascinated by the fact that English sub titles appear  EVEN WHEN THEY ARE SPEAKING ENGLISH that I forget to listen to the words.  And I am hooked on Masterchef which tends to be on at the same time. (Obviously it is important for me to watch that, in order to hone my cooking and shopping skills…..)

Some years ago I was elected onto the local Tourism Organisation Committee.  I was looking forward to my first meeting, but the looks of dismay on the faces of the rest of the (pretty well established)Committee demonstrated that they were not feeling the same sense of joy and excitement. The Finance Officer said (pleasantly enough) “oh no, now we are going to have to have our meetings in Engels”. I did say that I would do my best to ‘leer’ as fast as I could, but then the committee unanimously elected me to the least favourite job of Secretary and consequently hoisted themselves with their own petard.   Occasionally when debates of great import occurred in rapid and passionate Afrikaans, and high level resolutions were made, the resulting minutes would be as blank as my expression as I sat listening (trying to leer) .

Actually, now my vocabulary is quite wide – if I am reading. I can more or less read the articles in the local papers, I can understand friends’ Facebook statuses,   I can even laugh at humorous cartoons with speech bubbles. But what I am still struggling with is pronunciation.  My first attempt at “goeie môre” at the supermarket came out like a Shakespearean “Good Morrow”. Patient friends will say words and phrases over and over; I listen and try to replicate what they say.  To me it sounds exactly the same – and undeserving of the giggles and snorts which usually greet my finest efforts. You would think ‘Dwarskersbos’ was an easy word to say. But my efforts are, apparently, “nie goed nie” and no one can understand me, so I have decided never to visit the darn place again. At least I can say ‘Swellendam.’

Language is one thing, understanding Afrikaans people and their culture was another huge learning curve for us – and our struggles with that will be a whole other blog entry. (If I am brave enough)

The Old Gaol on Church Square

Little did I realise that this simple concept and excellent name would become my child to rear – and little did I realise that this sweet infant would grow into a monster of gigantic proportions!

 Swellengram is an online community information service – it started with a small database of local friends – and has now grown to a participant reach of over 1000.  It is picked up by other local information services and so its viral reach is possibly twice that.   Initially the idea was to make sure people in Swellendam knew what was going on in the town: events and specials.  By offering free advertising to restaurants and businesses only if they were doing something special, the community would benefit from the increased amount of special deals.  As a community service I decided to add requests for local information and opportunities for lift sharing. This has grown exponentially into lost dogs, lost parrots (there was a veritable rash of escaping parrots a few weeks ago – they were probably all looking for Louis) (see previous blog entry) jobs wanted, jobs offered, accommodation, and all the usual stuff. But the difference from this and any other information service, is the persona of Mrs Gram, who adds her own spin to the information and to the titles awarded to the most interesting Grams.

The pseudonym of Mrs Gram was awarded early on in the procedure and she has grown her own personality. She is loved by many, and once people realise who it is, they will hug her (me) or press gifts into her (my) hand on meeting in the street, and Mrs Gram received far more Christmas emails than I did.

Mrs Glam aka Martyn Turck

Mrs Gram organised a charity do called SwellenGlam (luckily she has a willing husband who plays in a band) where yet another alter ego arrived, “ Mrs Glam” (Martyn Turck, local fruit farmer  from  Wildebraam Berry Estate)  on the back of a Harley Davidson) dressed in Pink Lamé with shiny purple wig and feather boa, long false eye lashes (also pink)  set off delightfully with a pair of green wellies and a pipe.

Mrs Gram also took it upon herself to play Cupid on Valentine’s Day and suggested that if people emailed their Valentine messages,  she would send them anonymously.  A Swellengrammer then offered a prize for the best one, and Mrs Gram suddenly found herself the recipient of some of the worst poetry in the world.

During the few days of unrest, mentioned in a previous blog entry “Fire” Swellengram acted a bridge for communication of facts.  Rumours were flying and occasional panicky moments occurred, but Grams were based only on fact (Mrs Gram sent long-suffering husband out into the streets to assess the situation and report back)

Like me, Mrs Gram struggles with Afrikaans, and has to rely on “Google translate” for many of the incoming Afrikaans grams. If they arrive in English, that is how they stay, as Mrs G does not want to risk ridicule by trying to translate the other way. She already suffered slings and arrows when she wrote about Tow Trek.

SPILL CHOCKER

But most of all she struggles with the temptation to send out Grams that arrive with spelling mistakes that have passed the spell check and given a total different meaning to the original Grammer’s intention.  Occasionally she has missed one or two.

One local restaurant was shocked at the outcry caused when Hot Steaming Cinnamon Nuns were presented as their special of the day.  After an apology for the mistake,  a greater outcry ensued because it turned out everyone WANTED Hot Steaming Cinnamon Nuns on the menu. So do visit Pennantwing when you are in Swellendam and ask for their Nun speciality. If nuns are off that day, at least the rest of their stuff is excellent!  Recently a gentleman was searching for two roosters, which he wanted very badly.  ‘Roosters’ was not the word he used but TWO COCKS WANTED BADLY did not seem to be the right turn of phrase.  The above mentioned green wellies also suffered an unfortunate vowel change when Mrs Gram was ‘gramming’ her news about SwellenGlam, causing much hilarity and a red face for Mr Turck.

Apparently studies have been done which show that the perception of a quizmaster is that he/she is more intelligent and well informed than those participating contestants, despite the fact that all he is doing is reading out the questions and has the answer on a card.  It would appear that the same thing is true with Mrs Gram. She is considered erroneously to be the fount of all knowledge. She (dressed as me) is frequently accosted on the street and asked such things as When was Swellendam declared a republic? Is there someone here who can service my boiler? Where can I get two cocks? When does the pub open?  Can you give me ten rand for some bread? (OK that last person may not have realised that he was speaking to Mrs Gram, but he soon did when Mrs Gram showed him a very empty purse.

There is no money in it for Mrs Gram, but she enjoys the goodwill it engenders, and also is always first to know about events and bargains.  If you have a Facebook and would like to check it out – it will be one of the best ways you can find out how we Swellendammers roll!

But, in our little dorp, we are just as likely to witness storms, both human and natural, as any other place in the world, and in 2012, Swellendam was shaken by two events which will remain in the memories of the inhabitants for a long time to come.

The fire in the mountains raged for 7 days

The fire which raged for seven days in the Langeberg Mountains in January last year, gave rise to spectacular photos: awe inspiring landscapes, mountains fringed by gold, the drained faces  of exhausted fire-fighters, and subsequently the naked, dead trees in monochrome, strange, quiet beauty.

No-one could fail to be affected by the devastation – the thought of the wildlife that had been lost, the destruction of natural life, the concern for those who fought so hard and long to get things under control. But fourteen months on, the return of birds and animals, the new growth of foliage and fern, the footprints of porcupine, baboons and leopard remind us of the power of Nature to reclaim her own.

The exhausted fire fighters dredged up smiles for the camera

Then, in November, another kind of devastation swept Swellendam, also giving rise to spectacular photos: plumes of black smoke from burning tyres, fire silhouetting buildings in Railton, the strained faces of exhausted police and subsequently, the bare streets, closed shops, and eerie quiet desolation.Although it took place at the same time as the farmworkers’ strikes, the problems in Swellendam were unique to the town, and had more to do with the frustrations of the people with local politicians and administrators.

No-one could fail to be affected by the destruction – the thought of the trust that had been lost, the destruction of livelihood, the concern for those people caught up in a monster not of their own making. After the initial shock, the repercussions: the anger and disappointment, the recriminations and blame: all expressed in different ways, rational, passionate, intellectual, crude and emotional.  The key factor was that these feelings had a way of being  communicated: –  through the medium of modern technology people were able to say how they felt, without fear of harm or revenge. The platform offered by the local press through Facebook offered the opportunity to all to enter into safe debate.  Much of what was written was shocking, some of it was ridiculous, and some was uninformed and demonstrated great gaps in the understanding of the situation.  But all of it came from passion,  and shock at what had happened in the space of one short day!

Fire silhouetting buildings in Railton

Four months on, wounds are still raw. Not enough time has passed yet for significant healing and re-growth.  Some of the problems which caused the fire of rebellion are still deeply rooted, and it will take a long time for mankind, with long held, man-made preconceptions and prejudices to show a healthy and strong re-growth.

A POSITIVE OUTCOME

“There is a fire in human nature tending to purify — so that among these human creatures there is continually some birth of new heroism. The pity is that we must wonder at it, as we should at finding a pearl in rubbish” John Keats

The cleansing effect of the fire in the mountains had a parallel in the cleansing disruption of the trouble in November.

Individuals  removed themselves from the mess of political and administrative dysfunction – projects were started or rejuvenated which were aimed at bringing together the divided community of Swellendam:  local restaurants joined together in an initiative called  StreetSMART raising funds for practical ways of supporting young people from underprivileged communities, Swellendam Tourism, CAP and Score are working on a project to create an Under 19  soccer team called Swellendam United, which will represent the town in the Metropolitan Premier cup in 2014, Journey Trails are running weekend leadership courses in conjunction with Bontebok Park, the community came together recently for an amazing CANSA relay, the recent Swellendam Show was inclusive and heart warming.

All night CanSA Relay

For the fynbos indigenous to this area, fire is essential : for cleansing, germination and healthy re-growth.  For people – sometimes the same is true.

Photos: Cathy Hommes Van Eeden, Carlo Jorge

Oak smoked salmon

We are so lucky in Swellendam to have great restaurants – definitely something for everybody. We have one of the top Italian restaurants in the Western Cape, and at least three other fine dining establishments in heritage buildings.  Family restaurants, coffee shops by the river, under the oaks, opposite the big white church, wood fired pizzerias, pub grub: really, truly something for everyone.

 “How much easier it is to be critical than to be correct.” ― Benjamin Disraeli

If you don’t know what Trip Advisor is, think yourself lucky. It means that you do not run the risk of having someone in your home or eating your food, who potentially is able to tell the whole world on the Internet that you are ‘lazy’, or that your “loo is unclean”(even if it is spotless). You do not run the risk of someone telling the world that your house “overlooks a squatter camp” (when the truth is it overlooks the Langeberg mountains, but that person runs a competitor business, so chooses to lie). You do not have to suffer the indignity of someone saying that there is “no atmosphere” “nothing to see” and a “waste of time” for anyone to visit you. You do not run the risk of losing business because someone tells the world that “you must rather go somewhere else”.

New opportunities opened up for the “amateur critic” through the medium of Internet reviews. Whenever hospitality providers in Swellendam get together, the dreaded subject of Trip Advisor is never far away from the conversation.  However much we claim we don’t care, the truth is that most of us know exactly who has a good review or a terrible one. Most of us know exactly where our guest-house or restaurant is placed on the list, who is top, who is struggling, who is writing their own reviews, and who is paying friends to write reviews! (If we don’t know, we are quite happy to make it up!)

I have been privileged over the last seven years to get to know most of the owners of guest-houses and restaurants in this beautiful town. Without exception, they are hard-working people, who take pride in their businesses and they work hard to market and promote Swellendam, along with their core business of providing a high standard of accommodation or cuisine.  In this town, every tourist can easily find a place to stay or a place to eat that suits their particular requirements.

In Swellendam, tourism is the second largest industry (after farming) supporting economic growth, providing employment, and encouraging  investment .  Every new Rand brought into Swellendam circulates, bringing benefits and increasing opportunities for all, rich and poor, young and old.  It is incumbent on all  residents of any town whose economic prosperity depends on tourism to act as ambassadors, and present to the outside world a positive picture.

‘When we judge or criticize another person, it says nothing about that person; it merely says something about our own need to be critical.’ Unknown

So, my plea, to all residents,  to  business owners, to everyone who really cares about the potential of your town  – please don’t put your desire to become a critic and have your moans and groans displayed out there in the big wide world above your need to live in a prosperous and thriving town. I fully support your right to an opinion, but I do not recommend that you share it with those who will be planning their holidays and choosing whether to spend their money in your home town or “rather go somewhere else”.

If you are not happy with the service, food or accommodation, speak to the owners directly. Preferably at the time, so that they can put things right for you then and there.  If you prefer not to confront them directly, then ask your local Tourism Organisation to intercede on your behalf. If the visitor to town wishes to make a justified criticism, this is fair enough, but you, as a resident, should have the sense to realise that you are damaging the reputation of the town, as well as your own relationships with other businesses. If, on the other hand, your experience has been a positive one, the opposite applies.  Help support our local restaurants and tourist attractions by sharing with the potential visitor the best experiences they can have in this beautiful place.

And, to those of you who have suffered at the sharp end of the opportunity that Trip Advisor offers to every person who considers themselves qualified to judge your humble offering, I offer you this: “Don’t bow down to critics who have not themselves written great masterpieces.” Lawrence Ferlinghetti.