Amelia Bonea is a historian based at the University of Oxford and author of the book The News of Empire: Telegraphy, Journalism, and the Politics of Reporting in Colonial India, c.1830-1900 (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2016). Originally from Romania, she has lived and worked in Japan, Australia, Germany and the United Kingdom. When not engaged in academic research, she likes to read and translate children’s literature, most recently on StoryWeaver.   

I was flattered when I was asked to contribute a post to the StoryWeaver blog to mark International Mother Language Day, celebrated on February 21st. The day also marks the conclusion of StoryWeaver's Freedom to Read Campaign launched in September last year. I was obviously flattered by the proposal, but I couldn’t help thinking that I was the wrong person for the job, since most of my adult life has been a move away from my mother tongue. These days, when I use Romanian, it is mostly to speak with members of my family on the phone or in occasional email conversations with friends, many of whom are themselves migrants scattered around the world.

‘It’s conservator, not conservativ’, my mother offers timidly, reminding me again that at some point over the last seventeen years, some invisible mechanism caused me to start translating words and expressions from English into Romanian, rather than the other way around. The lady who translates my birth certificate into English is bolder still: ‘Got you!’, she grins with the confidence of the professional, ‘It’s to write in Romanian, not to write down.’ I mumble some feeble excuse about having lived abroad for too long and head for the door with my pride visibly hurt. I am no language purist, but I care about how I speak, especially when I have ‘important’ business to conduct in my hometown.

I was born in communist Romania, during a time when bananas, chocolate and Coca Cola were prized commodities one learned to ration wisely so that they would last until uncle’s next visit home from university in Bucharest. I say Romania, but in fact I am more comfortable telling people that I am from Transylvania (not necessarily of Dracula and Bram Stoker fame, about which I came to know much later anyway, after I began my peregrinations abroad). As a child, I suspected that people from Bucharest were different: for one, they seemed to have easier access to foods we didn’t have and they kept referring to us as ‘provincials’; they also didn’t speak Romanian with a ‘Hungarian accent’, like we did. Not to be outdone, we reciprocated by feeling a tad superior to ‘those southerners’, among other things because of the dubious distinction of having once been part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and thus exposed to the ‘civilizing’ influence of the West.

In any case, I grew up with a clear understanding that the Romanian with which the nation-state so eagerly wanted us to identify was not the same across the length and breadth of the country: people in the eastern province of Moldova were known to speak with a ‘sweet’ accent, while those in the south seemed to be excessively fond of the perfect simple tense. The Romanian I spoke at home was not the same my grandmother spoke in her village, peppered as it was with regionalisms whose meaning I tried hard to remember. And although my grandmother, a wonderful storyteller whose memory seemed to know no bounds, often populated my childhood with characters from her eventful life—she had lived through WWII as a child—sadly I find that my own memory falters when I try to remember some of the words she was using.   

Romanian was also not the only language I grew up with. In fact, it might be fair to say that I have two mother tongues, at least as far as hearing is concerned. There are many ethnic Hungarians living in Transylvania—as there once used to be Germans, my own aunt included—and Hungarian is one of the languages which reminds me of home, despite the fact that I only have a superficial knowledge of it. When I was in primary school, I made a pact with a Hungarian friend that we would teach one another our languages. We moved away and lost contact before I managed to learn how to speak, but it was not unusual to have ‘bilingual’ conversations with neighbours or shop assistants: people would ask questions in Hungarian and I would respond in Romanian or the other way around.

That’s how I learned that language wasn’t just speech, but a tool that could be used to play power games: one could use it to other people and by doing so, to stake a claim to a territory that did in fact belong to both interlocutors, not only to one or the other. I was reminded of these power games soon after the Revolution of December 1989, when our brief encounter with the Russian language as secondary school students was abruptly brought to an end by the new experiment with democracy and our teacher was made redundant. Russian fell out of favour practically overnight and we ended up studying French and English instead. All secondary school students were required to study two foreign languages at the time and we had no say as to which those two should be. What we knew was that studying English and French was ‘desirable’ as far as our future education and career prospects were concerned.

When I finally had a say in the matter, I decided to learn Japanese and moved to Japan to study for a university degree in Asian Area Studies. Once there, I became interested in the colonial history of South Asia and began to study Hindi as well. The big difference from my previous linguistic encounters was that these languages did not use the Roman alphabet and so they completely unsettled my ideas about the world: from a relatively small pool of 26-31 letters, I found myself thrown into a seemingly endless ocean of characters which I wasn’t always sure how they differed from each other. It was easier with Hindi, but I still can’t remember the order of the Devanagari script, which makes searching a word in a dictionary a time-consuming affair (and yes, I have the same problem in Japanese, but I console myself with the knowledge that some of my Japanese colleagues have the same problem with the Roman alphabet).

 

Much later, I also came to realize that these linguistics encounters have tweaked my brain in other, more subtle ways. I often find myself listening not only to what people say, but also to how they say it. I pay attention to their use of vocabulary and grammar. I read posters and billboards not necessarily because I am interested in the ads, but because I want to know what that character or expression means. Come to think of it, living abroad feels like a continuous language learning exercise. It gets tiring at times, but it is also exciting and enriching. Languages opened doors into worlds I didn’t know or knew little about. More than anything perhaps, learning languages has taught me to listen. Yoko Tawada, herself a straddler of worlds who lives in Germany and writes in German and Japanese, wrote in her book Where Europe Begins that, ‘Perhaps the ear is the organ of storytelling, not the mouth. Why else was the poison poured into the ear of Hamlet’s father rather than his mouth? To cut off a person from the world, you must first destroy not his mouth but his ear.’ I am reaching a stage in my life where I feel that I have come full circle and can now begin to translate some of the things I heard back into Romanian. And what better place to begin than with some of the best examples of storytelling out there, children’s books?

You can read Amelia's translations to Romanian on StoryWeaver here.

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The best part of spending time with kids is if you smile at them, sooner or later, even the shiest of kids will turn and smile back at you. No barriers, no divides, they don’t know what categories are. So they haven’t divided people into them… yet. So let’s catch the kids at that warm welcoming age when they can learn about different cultures and lifestyles, and can take such things in their stride as casually as they take their mother’s repeated request to stop throwing things around! Only books can take you through lives of people who look, live and believe differently than us. So here is a list of stories where beauty lies in the differences:

 

Where Did Your Dimples Go? By Radha HS and Kruttika Susarla

Have you ever tilted your head in all directions and stared hard at your parents trying to figure out how you look like them? Langlen didn’t have to look so hard. Her Manipuri mother and Tamil father were ready with all the answers her curious mind could think of! Available in ten Indian languages!

 

बारिश में क्या गाएँ? By Mala Kumar and Manisha Chaudhry

You can almost hear the earthy tones of a wind-swept Rajasthani voice in this story. And then a dinosaur comes in. No, seriously. See how these two contrasting elements literally make it rain in this story, translated in French, Italian and Japanese too!

 

My Car By Phidi Pulu

He loves his car. Angry mother or broken teeth, come what may, he will drive it everywhere. Take a ride to the moon and the stars with Khaidi. Read about his car in Telegu and Konkani too!

 

Sam's Christmas Present By Annie Besant and Alicia Souza

It’s Christmas! And what do most kids care about during Christmas? Presents! Sam has been looking for his present…. In every corner of the house. Will you help him? Available in Hindi and Marathi!

 

 

Chuskit Goes to School! By Sujatha Padmanabhan and Madhuvanti Anantharajan

This here is a heart-warming one. Chuskit wants to go to school. Seems simple enough for most of us reading this through our digital devices. But for a girl on a wheelchair with the rough landscape of Ladakh, this basic wish soon becomes a matter of privilege. Read how one smart and kind gesture of a little boy helped Chuskit go to school.

 

 

The Boink Mystery By Mala Kumar, Manisha Chaudhry and Soumya Menon

You get a huge mixing pot of traits, complexities and cultures when you look at a basic classroom. The Boink Mystery translated in Bengali, Kannada and other languages, will speak to you through a child’s perspective of a cluttered world; it will even speak to you through a small blue alien!

 

How Old is Muttajji? By Roopa Pai and Kaveri Gopalakrishnan

Grandparents are old. Sure. But HOW old exactly? Too many grandparents around us don’t know their exact age. When Putta and Putti found out that their sweet Muttajji doesn’t know her age, they decided to embark upon an investigation that led them through some of the most fascinating chapters in Indian history. Read this popular story and be enthralled in Bengali, Gujarati, Tamil, Marathi and many more languages!

 

Susheela's Kolams By Sridala Swami and Priya Kuriyan

Imagine making kolams so pretty, so popular, that they make their way to the skies. Susheela is exceptionally proud of her kolams, now that even the Air Force has taken special interest in them! Read this story in 9 languages and enter her visually beautiful world that’s tied together with traditions.

 

Mangoes And Mischief By Sreedevi Gopakumar and Sahitya Rani

You know how they say that when we are hungry, we eat like a monster. So what happens when an actual monster gets hungry? Maangasura, the lover of Mangoes and all Mango meals, is here! Moidootty and Malu must gather their wits… and lots of mangoes… to break his curse. Read this latest upload on StoryWeaver to find out if they succeed!

 

First House By Nabanita Deshmukh and Phidi Pulu

Our journey of increasing our comforts is possibly never-ending. We didn’t always have four walls around us to keep us warm and a roof over our heads to keep the sun and rain away. Then how was the first house made? This story, set in present day Arunachal Pradesh, imagines the answer to that question, and even involves the beautiful creatures of that area. Read in Tamil and Kannada too!

 

I am Tashi By ROGPA NGO, Dhasa

Want to see the stunning landscape and lifestyle of Tibetans through a nine year old’s perspective? Let’s take you through the Tibetan Himalayas, meet some Buddhist pilgrims on the way, and have some tea and momos too! Read this beautifully illustrated story that’s written by our community member in English and Tibetan.

Do you have a favourite story that talks about different kinds of good? Tell us what it is in the comments, or on Twitter and Facebook!

 

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This campaign is now closed

 

Children LOVE ‘spotting challenges’. Ask them to spot anything from a busy image and you can be sure they won’t quit. 3 crabs on a beach, 4 tyres in a workshop, 11 spoons in a kitchen... anything! Unfortunately, it’s hard to come by memorable spotting books which are affordable. So...

 

This Children’s Day (November 14), StoryWeaver is eager to create a fun spotting book for children and make it available for free. We think this will be special if it’s a collection of illustrations from artists around the world. And this, illustrators, is where we need your support. Just 1 illustration from you can make all the difference! 

 

The best entries from Spotathon will become part of a grand spotting book published by StoryWeaver, filled with illustrations from different artists. However, each entry that is submitted as part of Spotathon will be available on StoryWeaver as an individual activity book as well.

 

Here’s how you can participate in Spotathon!

 

• Draw something which has enough details so that a child can spot up to 15 objects in it. Think of a setting which can accommodate these details. A beach, rainforest, kitchen, classroom, market... the possibilities are endless! The objects to spot are up to you. 

• Before you start, imagine the child you’re setting the challenge for. Our readers are primarily children who haven’t had much access to books. We have 2 different categories which are linked to age and levels of difficulty. Remember, these are only guidelines.

 

a. 3-6 years (Level of Difficulty: Easy) – She has only recently started reading books. She’d enjoy spotting up to 8 objects. While she’s open to all kinds of settings, do remember that her vocabulary is limited. But her imagination definitely isn’t! As an example, here is an illustration by Soumya Menon of what would be ideal for her.

 

b. 7-10 years (Level of Difficulty: Medium) – As she’s expanding her vocabulary, she will be more comfortable with prediction and open to unfamiliar settings. She’d be able to spot up to 15 things. Even the way in which the objects are hidden can be more complex here. As an example, here is an illustration by Bindia Thapar of what would be ideal for her.

 

• As the spotting exercise also requires an answer key for reference, you will need to prepare it using the same drawing. All you have do it number the images accordingly. Here’s an example.

 

GUIDELINES FOR SUBMISSION

 

Timelines

Spotathon begins on October 25 and ends on November 21.

 

Submission

 

 

• You will have to submit two illustrations: Main Illustration and Answer Key (examples above).

• You can submit your entry in any language that is available on StoryWeaver.

• You can submit more than one entry.

• Watch a short Video Tutorial on how to submit your entry on StoryWeaver.

 

Format

• Size of illustration (Main illustration & Answer Key): 11.17 inches (width) x 5.35 inches (height). This is the recommended size as it fits neatly into one of the templates on StoryWeaver.

• The illustrations should be high-res (150-300 dpi).

• Format: JPEG

• File size for each illustration: Between 2 to 4 MB; above 4 MB will slow down the upload process

 

Copyright and other guidelines:

• To participate in Spotathon, you must be over the age of 16.

• The illustrations you submit must be your original work. 

• By submitting your work, you are agreeing to a CC-BY 4.0 license being applied to it. To know more about this license, click here.

 

You can register for the campaign over here so that we know you're participating and can reach out for any updates. If you have any queries, feel free to drop us an email at [email protected]!

 

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