Feature

This 'something' happened to me one day in December 2007. It was in the form of an e-mail that triggered a deluge of memories of talks with my grandmother, games I played with my siblings and cousins, laughter and tears I shared with my friends, my school days, and my life as a teacher, wife and mother in the Philippines, my birth country. Until that day, I was not aware that those memories, although very special, were stored somewhere, almost untouched for such a long time. The e-mail was not from an old friend or a family member but from a Bangladeshi friend, Mr. Subrata Kumar Das. Nor was it intended to be a sentimental one. So how come it had such an effect on me?

Attached to Subrata's e-mail were essays from his students for a book project we had organized to celebrate the International Mother Language Day, a UNESCO event that acknowledges the role of languages in the world. The essays included topics about Shahid Dibas and the students' thoughts regarding this part of their country's history. They also expressed deep appreciation of their mother tongue that touched a chord in me. I realized how very rarely I use mine (Kiniray-a) and imagined I would certainly be very sad should it become extinct and would be very angry if deprived of using it. However, I was not sure if I would die for it as what the language martyrs did. Yet, undeniably, my mother tongue symbolizes my ancestors and my past, and therefore an important part of who I am. Thanks to Subrata and his students, I came to 'reconnect' myself.

How did the paths of a Filipino teaching at a Japanese school and a Bangladeshi lecturer cross each other? Subrata and I first met at the Mondialogo Symposium in Rome in November 2006 when our schools (Birshrestha Munshi Abdur Rouf Rifles College Rifles and Kobe Municipal Fukiai High School) were chosen among the 50 finalists in an international school contest initiated by UNESCO and DaimlerChrysler. It was a gathering of teachers and students from all over the world and the days were filled with many activities that it was almost impossible to meet everybody. However, on our last day in Rome when my student Miho and I were going out of the hotel to shop for souvenirs, we accidentally met Subrata and his student Lazina, and we decided to go together. At the station, we saw two trains arriving at the same time. As soon as the door of one of the trains opened, I asked the passengers if it was going to our destination. When told that it was, I got on and, to my surprise, the door closed quickly behind me! I saw three equally shocked faces on the other side of the glass window and all I could do was to gesture that I would get off at the next station and meet them there which, fortunately, we did. Indeed, relationships are often built in shared experiences, be it tragic or comic, and the friendship between Subrata and me is one of them.

Subrata, Mr. Nurul Islam (a senior teacher at Rifles working with Subrata on the exchange program) and I started talking about establishing contacts between our schools in February 2007. We were able to form teams in April simultaneously, and our students enthusiastically corresponded through the Internet message board and also sent cards and presents to each other by post. Around October, we started talking about the book project. Although, at first, we were concerned about the lack of time due to the exams and the school holidays, both teams were able to come up with a workable schedule after what seemed like a hundred e-mails. Our students at Fukiai immediately worked on their essays. The Rifles students' essays arrived around the third week of December and were assigned to the students for translation to Japanese as their winter homework.

When we got back to school in January, the students edited one another's essays and translations. At the same time, the Japanese translations of their Bangladeshi partners' essays were read and checked by my co-teachers. Finally, our hard work was rewarded when we were able to send the books to Bangladesh according to schedule. Gathering from talks with my co-teachers and students, I believe that, through the project, much have been learned not only about Bangladesh and its people, but also about the role of languages in our search for world peace.

Last but not least, if ever someone asks me again what language I am using when I think, I can now give this answer with confidence: “It is variable but my mother language, Kiniray-a, is the most valuable.”

(Rose Sabanal teaches at Kobe Municipal Fukiai High School, Japan.)