Formal education has stifled local languages and dialects for years, but there are signs of change.
A Belgian friend, Dirk, recently told me how in the 1970s, one of his primary school teachers used a little doll or âDevilÂŽs Puppetâ (Dutch: Duivels Pop) to discourage children from speaking their local dialect of Dutch, in favor of what the school system called âcivilizedâ Dutch. If the teacher caught an 11-year old speaking the local dialect, even at play, the kid would be loaned the Devilâs Puppet. The plan backfired, however, and the boys were soon competing to get the puppet as often as possible. The teacher lost that battle, but the schools won the war, and within a generation most dialects had seriously eroded.
The Devilâs Puppet reminded me of an experience I had about the same time in Samoa. At Mapusaga High School some teachers made a chart with a line for each studentâs name. If a kid was caught speaking the Samoan language, the teacher would shame him or her by putting a pair of âblack lipsâ, cut from stiff paper, next to the studentâs name. Different tool but same aim: designed to shame children for speaking the language of their parents and grandparents.
In North America, native children were removed far from their parents and held in â Indian boarding schoolsâ created with the express purpose of stamping out native languages. âKilling the Indian, but saving the man (sic)â as it was put by Richard Henry Pratt, the US Army officer who founded Carlisle Indian Industrial School, the first off-reservation boarding school, in 1879. But the tide is starting to turn as many lament the loss of native languages and cultural identity. In Peru, enlightened educators are trying new ways to teach children to be proud of their communities, their native Quechua language, farming skills and food culture. Faculty members of the Universidad Nacional Agraria La Molina, and staff from the Instituto de Desarrollo y Medio Ambiente and other NGOs work with selected schools to set up a âseed houseâ. Known by its Quechua name of muru wasi, the seed house is a classroom with books, posters, videos and other educational materials about local farming and culture. The kids plant a garden together on the school grounds, under the guidance of experienced community members, who also work with local teachers and parents to hold events where they can share traditional meals, made with Andean crops. Quechua is spoken at every opportunity. Itâs an excellent innovation: using plants to sow the seeds of self-esteem in the minds of the children
It is too soon to say if such an approach will help to save local languages or to slow the flow of youth to the cities, but the educators are optimistic.
The global languages taught at school and the local languages and dialects acquired at home can and do co-exist. It is normal for people to speak several languages. When schools discourage local languages they also â often inadvertently â teach kids to be ashamed of their parents. When this happens, the real devils are intolerance, ignorance and indifference towards rural people, their culture and their ways of life. There are no excuses for letting this happen and itâs good to see people reclaiming and reviving local dialects and languages.
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Acknowledgements
Information about the Seed Houses in Peru is courtesy of Ana Dorrego CarlĂłn, and Aldo Justino Cruz Soriano of UNALM and Wilmar Fred LeĂłn Plasencia of IDMA.