Lingua franca
If you speak and nobody understands, it’s time to change something. But if you speak and not everyone understands, then just keep right on going. That’s life in bilingual world.
I live and work in a minority language universe; it’s easy to forget that I’m not alone. Yesterday, in one of those extended family situations that add spice to vacations, I met a family who has kept their mother tongue alive and active, despite overwhelming numerical odds.
I came away with a new understanding (albeit incomplete) of how hard it can be to keep your language and culture in certain parts of the world. Here in Canada, we pay a great deal of lip service at the governmental level, but for anyone that wants to transmit fundamental values to the future generations, there is no time when you can sit back and say “the job is done”.
There might be a “better vocation” for an orphaned Xbox back at home. Turning a game console into a media server makes good sense, and from the demonstration we had last evening, we’d end up with a machine that could improve our home theatre. The installation of the software will involve some unfamiliar twists and turns, but no destructive modifications are needed. Time to sit down with son #2 and discuss the future.
In perfect Island style, I started talking to my nearest neighbour at the campground. We did the usual “Do you know?” while our spouses ran colour commentary on the procedure. This time, only one node of the six degrees of separation was necessary to restore order to our world.
