Dood op papier, lewend in die mond van die spreker
Gister was hy nog in Oos-Londen, vanoggend om elfuur stap ek sy kantoor onder n groen blaredak by die Universiteit van Kaapstad binne. Hy is Sizwe Churchill Satyo, BA Hons UED (Fort Hare), MA DLitt et Phil (Unisa), professor in Afrika-tale, hoof van die Departement van Afrika-tale en -literatuur, Universiteit van Kaapstad.
Hy is gebore in die Oos-Kaap en het studeer aan die Universiteit van Fort Hare, waar hy sy eerste graad en ook sy honneursgraad verwerf het. Hy vertel my dat hy toe by n paar skole in die Oos-Kaap onderrig gegee het en van 1974 tot 1987 by Unisa dosent was. Daarna is hy by die UK as hoof van die Departement Afrika-tale en -literatuur aangestel.
… you not only enjoy the person himself, but also the way in which he manipulates his language …
Die mens en die taal vind hy albei fassinerend  en het moeite om die twee van mekaar te skei. Gister nog was hy by n vergadering by die Universiteit van Fort Hare, waar hy met n interessante dosent in die Sielkunde gesels het. Alhoewel hierdie man n sielkundige is  en nie n taalkundige nie  vertel professor Satyo my hy geniet taal baie. Die sielkundige is Xhosa-sprekend, en op die ou end
… you not only enjoy the person himself, but also the way in which he manipulates his language. The freedom with which he does this, is because it is his language. He doesnt have to look for a word; he knows how to select words from a cluster. He knows how to subvert the meaning of a word. This specific person is a walking dictionary; he knows names in any language …
Hy reageer soos volg op die vraag na die rol van Afrika-tale in die nuwe Suid-Afrika :
I think the question about the role of African languages in the new South Africa amounts to what the role of African people are in Africa.
Met ander woorde, gaan hy voort, ons gee ruimte aan Engelssprekendes ten koste van Afrika-tale. Ons gee spasie aan koloniseerders  Europeërs  wat na ons kontinent gekom het om dit te koloniseer ... deur hul eie taal te gebruik en ons sn uit te vee, sê hy. Hy dink dít, op sigself, dui implisiet aan dat n mens nie die mens en die taal van mekaar kan skei nie.
n Blokkasie in die weg op pad na ryke verskeidenheid
n Tweede aspek, meen hy, is dat dit absurd is dat mense in hierdie land sê dat Engels die land se amptelike taal behoort te wees, omdat ons almal in staat is daartoe om Engels te kan praat. n Groot persentasie van die bevolking  by die 95%  kan nie n bydrae maak in Engels as hul moedertaal nie. Hulle verstaan Engels slegs ten dele en sodoende word 95% van die mense tot karikature gemaak, omdat hulle in n taal moet praat wat hulle tot kinders reduseer: jy word altyd gekorrigeer, hetsy jou aksent of uitspraak. Hy noem as voorbeeld n artikel wat hy in n koerant gesien het waarin verduidelik word hoe die woord agreement uitgespreek behoort te word.
So I think that type of thing hinders the country and its people from making a significant contribution and stops the country from becoming a rich tapestry of culture and language.
Oor die noue verwantskap tussen verskillende tale
Ervaar hy Afrikaans as n Europese of as n Afrika-taal?
Hy verduidelik dat Afrikaans en Nederlands etlike jare lank geag is bloedfamilie te wees. Maar tog, as gevolg van die feit dat die taal op Afrika-bodem gebore is, sou dit ook as n Afrika-taal beskou kon word. Tog het die taal ook sterk bande  en n verhouding, ast ware  met Nederlands. Die taal se wortels is fassinerend, sê hy. Maar by hierdie universiteit word Afrikaans as n Afrika-taal geag (wat ressorteer onder die departement waarvan hy die hoof is).
Ek vra hom oor die verwantskap tussen Xhosa en Zulu en hy sê dat die twee tale nou verwant is, alhoewel hulle geografies ver van mekaar verwyder is. Hy gaan voort:
Of Xhosa and Zulu, I understand everything. It is the odd word or phrase that I do not understand. For example the word for washing is bugeza in Zulu and in Xhosa it is ukuthlanda. In Xhosa ubugeza means someone who is insane. How that could have happened I do not know. But the two languages are mutually intelligible. And with the power of radio and television, it doesnt matter if you are in Umtata or in Ulundi, you can hear Xhosa and Zulu.
Sou hy sê dat die jongmense met wie hy op universiteitsvlak te doen kry, bewus is van die belangrikheid van taal?
Hy dink dit verskil van mens tot mens. Daar was die invloed van die skoolsisteem  waar die onderrig meestal in Engels geskied het. n Mens tref ouens aan wat gretig is om vlot Engels te kan praat. Dus spandeer hulle ook al hul energie daaraan om Engels te leer praat. n Tweede denkskool glo weer daaraan om alles in hul eie taal te doen. n Mens tref kompetisie tussen die groepe aan.
The English-speaking group is sometimes referred to as coconuts: you are black outside and white inside. There is a definite consciousness of who you are. I think it makes sense for everyone to learn at least three languages, because then you can at least help yourself, no matter where you are in any of the nine provinces.
Dood op papier, lewend in die mond van die storieverteller
Voordat ek die onderhoud kom voer het, het ek al verneem van professor Satyo se gawe om stories te vertel. Dink hy dit neem van die sjarme van die verhaal weg as die stories neergeskryf word?
Hy dink wel enersyds so.
If you write the stories down, it takes away the charm from someone who lacks the experience of listening to the story. But if you have been exposed to both forms of the tale, you are able to give life  to resurrect  the dead words that are printed on the page. If they go together  the dead word on the page and the live word in the mouth of the story-teller  you are able to enjoy it.
Of hy definitiewe veranderinge in die mense se gevoel oor tale in die nuwe Suid-Afrika bespeur?
Ja, hy dink so.
The mere recognition of ones language improves ones self-esteem. It is interesting that I have not caused any car accidents during this period of election, because to see brilliant posters written in your own language … you see yourself represented, you see yourself recognized.
Sy oë blink. Hy sê dat hy die verskillende vertalings van die verkiesingplakkate met mekaar vergelyk. Soms let hy op na die Afrikaans of die Engels om van die ander tale se vertalings te kan verstaan. Die betekenis van die catchy phrases kan maklik misverstaan word, sê hy. Hy het in die Oos-Kaap na dieselfde ding opgelet. Dis so interessant vir hom, dat hy lus het om n artikel daaroor te skryf. Yesterday in East London I kept writing them (die slagspreuke in verskillende tale) down.
Beskou hy Engels of Afrikaans as n bedreiging vir enige inheemse taal op eie bodem?
Nee, beslis nie. Sheer numbers make it impossible, especially impossible with languages like Xhosa and Zulu.
Die tweede rede is ongeletterdheid, meen hy. Heelwat mense het geen toegang tot die geskrewe woord in Afrikaans of in Engels nie. Veral in landelike gebiede figureer Afrikaans en Engels eintlik nie regtig nie.
Mense dink taaldepartemente gebruik geld; hulle genereer nie geld nie
Hy sê dis hartseer en ironies dat mense by talle universiteite  die meeste, glo hy  taaldepartemente sien as gebruikers van geld en nie as genereerders daarvan nie.
The people in language departments are seen to be using money, they dont bring in money. It is sad that at this point in history this perception remains. It is ironic  and, as I mentioned in the first question about the separation of the person and the language  if you silence the minorities, you make them non-existent. Because they cant communicate. Also, you deny yourself an opportunity of knowing what people around you are talking about. I was supervising a doctoral thesis about the debate of the language of the coloniser and the colonised. The coloniser prefers to speak in his or her own language. You are expected as the colonised to speak not only in your own language but also in the colonisers language. So it becomes an absurd debate, because the coloniser doesnt understand your input. And the coloniser just keeps on communicating in his or her own language. In effect he is really talking to himself. It is really absurd indeed.
Ek vra hom hoe hy reken die mense van Suid-Afrika meer bewus gemaak kan word van die belangrikheid van taal, en hy sê dat een van die tegnieke wat hy aanwend is om mense te skok wanneer hy n toespraak maak en die eerste paar sinne daarvan in sy eie taal te lewer.
And then I have silenced them, because they do not know what I was saying, but they are eager to find out what it meant. When people in Parliament make a speech in a language you do not understand, you become so frustrated … that sudden gap which takes place when you do not understand what someone is talking about. I think these examples make it clear that to be limited in ones knowledge of languages is frustrating and alienating for a person.
Hoe leer n mens n inheemse Afrika-taal, vra ek hom. Waar begin n mens?
Weer sluit sy antwoord aan by die kwessie dat die mens en die taal onskeibaar is: om n taal werklik te leer praat, is dit noodsaaklik om totaal deel te word van die taalgemeenskap. Tydsaspekte maak dit natuurlik baie moeilik. n Ander opsie is om vermaaklikheidsbronne, soos die televisie, in te span. Daar is ontspannende programme met onderskrifte op televisie, sê hy. It will be about something you have never experienced in your own culture and it can be enjoyed  you will be attracted to the language.
Leer een taal praat deur n ander te ken
Hy verduidelik verder:
The second thing is to look at words which you recognise as your own. African languages have borrowed so much from Afrikaans and English. You would be able to recognise words that you know from Afrikaans or English when you look at the African language. The words will only be Africanised or translated to fit the language in which it is written. It was easy, for example, when I started English, to think of the Latin I had studied previously. I was able to use the Latin to unscramble esoteric words in English which I didnt understand. That you can do when you read a novel or listen to a story in an indigenous language. Instead of making the effort and go to the dictionary, you can use these methods. You can learn a lot about one language by knowing another.
Hyself kan etlike tale praat. By Unisa in Pretoria is hy gedwing om Sotho te leer. Mense het bepaalde idees oor ander mense wat nie dieselfde taal praat nie en hy moes gewoon die taal leer om toegang te hê tot sosiale geleenthede, tot die kerk of tot die geskrewe materiaal.
So it was a baptism of fire  I had to learn the language. Weekends you had to talk to the people, I had to go to church in a language I couldnt speak.
Hy het ook Latyn studeer en kan Afrikaans, Engels, Xhosa (sy moedertaal) en Zulu praat. Hy sê dis eintlik moeilik om al die tale wat hy kan praat te tel, omdat daar soveel ooreenkomste tussen hulle onderling is.
Sy boodskap aan Suid-Afrikaners met betrekking tot taal is duidelik:
To be a South African and not to speak as many languages as you can … it is like depriving yourself of cultures  putting yourself in exile. When I was in Germany, at a railway station, I thought I was just an item, an island. Everyone was speaking his or her own language and yes, I had my own language but I couldnt share it with anyone. There is no communication between two people  you make yourself an island when you cannot speak another persons language.
Voordat ek loop, vertel hy my dat hy op soek is na n uitgewer om sy stories te publiseer. Sedert 1974 gaan kuier hy dwarsoor die land met n kassetspeler in die hand by mense, en hy het nou al talle van hierdie stories getranskribeer.
I cant even tell you how many. I have plenty, sê hy.
As ek loop, oorhandig hy sy Meesterstudie aan my: Traditional concepts and literary conventions in Sinxos works  n studie van die invloed van die orale tradisie op moderne literatuur in ander tale. Met die woorde Phela phela ngantsomi eindig die verhaal Iintombi ezimbini nexhogokazi (Two girls and an old woman).
Maar die einde hiervan is slegs op papier. In die mond van die spreker verrys die woord opnuut.