Week Two: Returning to Kinyarwanda

Muraho! (Hello!)

Mwebwe muri bande? (You, who are you?)

Nejejwe nokukubona! (Nice to meet you!)

Nitwa Kathryn (Gatarina). Ndi umunyeshuri w’ikinyarwanda. Niga muri Kaminuza ya Wisconsin- Madison. (I am Kathryn. I am a student of Kinyarwanda. I study at the University of Wisconsin- Madison.)

Amakuru ki? (What's the news?)

Although this is the first diary entry recording my study of Kinyarwanda, it is not where my journey with the language begins. Indeed, I enrolled in an intensive study of Kinyarwanda at Boston University in Summer Semester 2014, and due to the one other student dropping the course, the class resembled an individualized course of study- between only Professor B and me. I performed well in the course, and as I was its lone student, the class was designed to accommodate my pace. I found myself approaching it, however, like I did other language courses beforehand- memorizing information and regurgitating it for an exam-, and though I was successful in all course assessments, I found that this approach created an unnecessary divide between the language I was learning and the language I was using. The course itself, however, remained significant to me as it led to my first trip to Rwanda.

While in country, I was given the opportunity to speak Kinyarwanda, and though I appreciated the chance to practice, I don’t believe I used it as much as I could or should have. My two American companions were comforted by my language-speaking abilities, and our Rwandan companion, D, was amazed at my language skills, going as far to call me a Rwandan. Accordingly, D frequently encouraged me to speak Kinyarwanda, and even though I wanted to show off my newly acquired skills, I often refused to do so in the most indignant manner. I cannot precisely determine the reason why, but the closest I have come is this: 

I was afraid of not speaking Kinyarwanda perfectly.

Indeed, the possibility that I speak incorrectly was such a daunting prospect to me that I declined to speak altogether. No matter where we went, however, no matter how isolated the valley, how sheltered the woods, or somber the memorial site, we were immediately identified with an echoing cry of “umuzungu! umuzungu!” (though grammatically speaking, we were abazungu or, better yet, abazungukazi), Such visibility presented me with countless opportunities to speak. I recall distinctly a scene at Urwibutso Rwa Nyange (Nyange Memorial) where a number of schoolchildren surrounded my group, and I said “muraho” to our curious spectators. The children giggled at my affected greeting, and though D was quick to explain that it was only an American speaking Kinyarwanda that surprised them, I couldn’t help but feel it was my pronunciation. I was embarrassed and grew even more hesitant to speak.

Returning to my alma mater, Michigan State University, to complete my masters degree, I quickly fell out of practice, not only due to coursework demands, but also my inability to confirm that what I was doing, how I was learning, how I was speaking, was, indeed, right. Now enrolled at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, these issues have not resolved themselves. I still have commitments to my coursework, and as an independent learner in African 697: Directed Study of a Less Commonly Taught Language, I still cannot always confirm whether or not my pronunciation is correct, my spelling free from errors, and my cultural understanding completely in tune; however, I do have some important reminders that perhaps I did not have access to before or, more accurately, I didn’t see the validity of until now.

Most prominently, I have noted that I should learn to thrive under ambiguity. According to the “Peace Corps Volunteer: On-going Language Learning Manual,” “successful language learners are able to live with a lot of ambiguity in everyday situations.” Perhaps this appears obvious, and in my own research, I value a sense of confusion. Recognizing that not fully understanding a topic within African Studies is part of “getting it,” as I lack a felt intuition. Within language-learning, however, I have always strived for perfection, and despite Professor B’s frequent insistence that my speaking doesn’t have to be perfect and that I just have to do it, the message never sank in. Perhaps the appeal to perfection is what blurred the lesson for me, but I appreciate the lesson about ambiguity more, because though I am not a master of Kinyarwanda, and perhaps I will never aim to be one, I can still try.

In addition, alternating the manner in which I learn Kinyarwanda is prudent. Historically, I succeed in traditional language learning classrooms, as I can memorize information and regurgitate it, and though that is easy and gratifying to do well on assessments, it doesn’t help me for life-long language learning. In conclusion, I must be willing to get creative and innovative, practical and efficient, and willing and able to change and adapt my learning plan as necessary!

Murakoze kandi murabeho! (Thank you and goodbye!)

Works Cited

Peace Corps. "Peace Corps Volunteer: On-going Language Learning Manual." Washington D.C: Peace Corps, 2000. Print.