PNG Realization #2: I'm no conversationalist

I've always prided myself on my ability to step into social situations with new people and facilitate fairly normal, low-awkwardness-level conversations. Well, as is usually the case, God has a funny way of humbling us, doesn't He?

Before ever arriving in PNG, Martha had told me that my two goals for the trip were 1) To survive and 2) To learn some Tok Pisin. So, naturally, I had made it my mission to spend time talking with nationals on my trip out to the bush so that I would learn some Tok Pisin. However, this mission proved to be a bit more impossible than I had first thought.

The PMV that we took from town to the river.

On the very first day, I made it my goal to talk to the two young girls who had come along on the trip from town to the village to watch over me. But, I sat, and I sat, and I sat thinking of a question to ask them. You see, in America, we like to make small talk with strangers (especially children and teens) by asking questions like "How old are you?", "What grade are you in?", "What's your favorite subject in school?", "What are your hobbies?" But, almost none of these questions are relevant in the PNG context. I felt completely lost as to how to even begin a conversation. I had nothing in common with them. They didn't really keep track of dates and ages like we do; most of them have never even been to school (if they have, it was only grades 1 and 2), and they spend their days cooking, getting firewood, washing dishes and clothes. So, you know what I did? I went to bed. I couldn't do it. I felt so confused and lost in this culture that was so radically different from mine. I had no point with which to relate to them, so I didn't.

Even though I failed on my first day, after a few days in the village, I realized that Papua New Guineans don't really do conversation the way we do it at all. They don't ask questions. After all, direct questions are horribly intrusive. Instead, they make statements. And, if the other speaker wants to elaborate on the statement, they can. If not, they won't. It's kinda nice, but it also kinda feels weird.

For example, when I came back to the village with this pile of firewood on my head, the villagers looked at me and started a conversation with me like this, "Kelsey, yu go lo bus na kisim paiawut, nau yu kam bek," or in English, "Kelsey, you went to the jungle and got firewood, and now you came back." It kinda makes you feel like, "Ummm...yeah? That's what I did. And...why are you telling me what I already know?" Or, as Lynn Landweer, a sociolinguistic surveyor and professor of mine who served in PNG for about 20 years, put it, it makes you feel like "they are the champions of all that is obvious."

But, this new way of conversation ended up being one of the most entertaining and easy parts of my language learning. I always had something to say! I could tell someone exactly what they had done, and it was a perfect way to practice my Tok Pisin in a totally acceptable and predictable way! And, though I had begun as a horribly confused conversationalist, by the end of my time, I could state the completely obvious with the best of them.

Hey Readers, I just wrote this blog, and now, you are reading it.

See?