Thanksgiving Day

This year Bill's birthday fell on the day before Thanksgiving. So to commemorate both, we got away for a night and two days to a beach a couple hours north of Puerto. We celebrated Bill's birthday on Wednesday, and then just willfully forgot that it was Thanksgiving back in the U.S. and our daughters and their husbands and our little grandson, and our niece and nephew were all gathering at my sweet sister Sue's house, eating tons of wonderful food. We determined not to feel sorry for ourselves. Doesn't look too bad, does it?

When Languages Collide

We are always working in three languages here on Palawan. English, Palawano and Tagalog. We speak in three languages, we do text messaging on our phones in three languages all the time. Obviously I know English best. Palawano is my second stronger language, then Tagalog. For the Palawano translation helpers, obviously Palawano is their strongest language. Then Tagalog. Most don't know English, except for a few words. So, when I am talking to our Palawano translation helpers, we are both using the Palawano language. Makes sense, doesn't it? Every once in awhile something a Palawano will say will zip right over my head, and leave me grasping for a thread of understanding to pull down into my brain. And it often turns out that the missing piece of the puzzle is an unexpectedly used English word.

That happened the other week when I was working with Lini. Twice. Two of her daughters accompanied her up to Puerto this time. I asked if they were missing school being up here. Our conversation was in Palawano, mind you. Lini answered, 'No, because they had simbrecks.' OK. I got all that, but what in the world was 'simbrecks,' I wondered? I'd never heard that word before. Lini kept explaining. And I finally got it. The English phrase, Semester Break, shortened to sembreak, mispronounced as simbrecks. Phew.

In another conversation, Lini informed me that one woman we knew was selling ibon. Let me remind you that this conversation is in the Palawano language again. That flew right on past my mind. Ibon, in Palawano, is the word for 'offspring', or 'child.' Well, I knew this woman couldn't be selling children. Oh, so I thought, maybe she is using a Tagalog word here. 'Ibon' in Tagalog is the word for bird. And there is a black market enterprise for our endangered Palawan birds, like mynahs, cockatoos and parrots. But I was surprised that this particular woman would be involved in that kind of dangerous and illegal activity. Then Lini clarified, the woman was selling things like perfume. Ahhhhh. Avon! The Palawano language doesn't have the long A sound, nor the V sound, so Avon became ibon. And, me, never expecting to hear of Avon being sold in Palawanoland, had a hard time making that connection. OK. Second mystery solved.

Another time, it was Lini's older sister, Rini, who had me scratching my head. She came in to work one day very excited because her son had just won as 'Eesketcherman.' I puzzled over that one. Eesketcherman, eesketcherman, eesketcherman. I just couldn't figure it out. She explained that he was the elected leader of the young peoples' local government board. Quite an honor to be Eesketcherman. Don't forget the conversation is in the Palawano language. This puzzle took me a couple of days to unravel. I knew the initial long E sound wasn't really part of the word. The Palawano language doesn't have initial consonant clusters like SK, so it is common to put a long E sound in front of those when pronouncing English words like skate, for example. Comes out eeskeet. So that meant he was Sketcherman. So what was a sketcherman? It turns out, he was elected SK Chairman. SK stands for Sanggunian Kabataan, a Tagalog phrase meaning council of young people. And as mentioned above, Palawano doesn't have the long A sound in Chairman. And, of course, I wasn't expecting an English word anyway. So that's how SK Chairman became Eesketcherman.

Fun things happen when three languages collide.

Piglet Raffle Promo

This sign really gave me the giggles. Anyone in need of a piglet? Let me know, I'll see if I can enter your name in the monthly raffle.

Comfort. It's What We Do???

Brown Grass at Puerto Guest House

Something about the juxtaposition of where I was sitting, and what I was reading just didn't fit. Linguists have a term, "collocational clash." Words that don't belong together, like rough baby skin. I was living a Collocational Clash Moment. We just arrived back home in Puerto Princesa, in the middle of one of the hottest Hot Seasons in years. The grass and much of the shrubbery of the Philippines touted Cleanest and Greenest City wasn't green anymore. No rain, water levels low, things drying up, grass and bushes turning brown, some trees protecting themselves by dropping their leaves. It looked like pictures we've seen of Africa. Brown and dry. And hot. It is so hot! Bill and I just left a gorgeous San Diego winter, and now have to adjust back to this, our adopted country. It is a shock to our bodies to go back and forth between climates like that.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that the plane we flew down to Puerto from Manila had "upgraded" their fleet to new airplanes, and apparently, in the process, they decided to cram a few more rows of seats in. Bill and I literally couldn't sit straight in those seats. Our legs didn't fit. We had to sit sideways. After take-off I decided to give myself a little more space by reclining my seat. Immediately I heard a voice behind me asking me to put my seat back up straight. I had mistakenly thought a petite Filipino would be sitting behind me, but no, it was a forthright German woman tourist, generously proportioned. She said she couldn't tip her seat back because the exit row was behind them. I apologized and, of course, put my seat upright. Bill and I are used to not being able to get our legs into Philippine buses. We have strategies for that -- we choose seats across the aisle from each other so we can each tilt our knees into the aisle. But to not be able to sit straight in an airplane was something new. Okay, in the future we'll have to make sure we get exit row or front row seats. We were thankful it was only a one hour flight this time!

Our first evening back on Palawan, I was thumbing through a recent issue of Cooking Light (that alludes to another whole theme - after eating Mexican food almost everyday for two months, alas, it is time to try to get back in shape, sigh). A few pages into the magazine, there was a La-Z-Boy ad. Motto, "Comfort. It's what we do." They are advertising their "latest innovation in comfort," called ComfortCore Technology. It apparently features "four distinct zones of cushioning, each designed for ideal firmness. Softer at the front of the cushion to ease pressure behind the knees. Firmer in the back for optimal support. Two more layers of cushioning provide overall comfort, durability and a final layer of softness." Oh my, that sounded so wonderful. Someday, God, could I please have a nice La-Z-Boy to sink into?

The irony was palpable. Here's the deal. I'm an American, born and raised. Americans like Comfort. We have companies that study and design furniture to be Comfortable. We have thermostats that can be set on the Comfort Zone. Just an aside, but Americans aren't the only ones. A friend who lives in Japan described their bathroom technology to us. They can fill their bathtub from a control panel in the kitchen, while they are cooking dinner. They can set the desired temperature of their bath, and the water will continually drain a little and refill with hot water to keep it at that level. They have toilet seats with control panels, that do all sorts of things. For instance, push a button and the toilet will make a sound of flushing water to disguise unmentionable noises. I think they may be ahead of us when it comes to seeking comfort. Nevertheless, I can't help asking myself what I'm doing in such an uncomfortable place.

The answer, of course, is obvious. We are here to make sure the Palawano people have the opportunity to have the Word of God in their own language. Right now, Bill and I are the ones for that job. And we will be in for more uncomfortable moments along the way. I think our motto should be something like, "Adjust. It's what we do." And as we hit those uncomfortable moments, we can keep in mind the promise, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."