Linguistics

What is linguistics and what do linguists do?


Linguistics is the study of human speech. Linguists describe languages.

In English, the term linguist is sometimes used to describe someone who is multilingual. Here I use the term to design a researcher who studied linguistics and who can describe languages. Linguists may or may not speak several languages. What is relevant to them is not so much speaking a language than having a descriptive knowledge of it. What interests linguists is how languages are actually used. When linguists are interested in the non-standard way someone speaks, it is because this says something about language variation and change. It is not the role of linguists to try and impose the rules of what is perceived to be the correct usage on the users of a language. In that sense we say that linguists have a descriptive approach to language, and not a prescriptive one.


Linguistic fieldworks in Vanuatu.

In 2010 I completed a Master of Arts thesis researching and describing a little described language spoken in a remote part of Vanuatu. Linguistic fieldwork is the collection of language data in its natural environment, i.e. where the language is spoken. I travelled to the tiny remote island of Atchin, 1km long by half a kilometre large, 600 inhabitants, in Central Vanuatu. There, I spent several weeks working with the islanders that accepted to help me with their native language.

My task was to interpret the data I collected on the field, following the linguistic methodology in which I had received training. In the process I also learned to speak some of the language. The data consisted in audio files that I recorded during interviews with speakers of the language on the island. The audio files were used to work out the sound system of the language, its morphology (how words are built) and syntax (how sentences are built). The end result was a grammatical description now available at the University of Auckland library. 


Atchin island - main path in Ruar - © Marie Duhamel 2010
A mother of three, it was perhaps raising bilingual children that first triggered my interest in linguistics. Settling in New Zealand from my native France in the late eighties also made me realise how language affects all aspects of our life and identity.

What interests me in linguistics is what is common to all languages. I feel this has something to say about how all humans think. To go about finding what is common to all languages, it makes sense to describe the largest amount possible of languages. But many minority languages are less, or no longer, spoken, mostly for political and social reasons. And for each language that disappears, it is one less possibility of understanding what facets of cognition we all share – and I won’t have room here to talk about the severe social impact of language disappearance!

There is therefore some urgency in describing minority languages. When I pondered whether to try and return to the safety of a well paid position in IT, or to continue with graduate research in the field of linguistics, I decided for the latter, with the encouragement of my family. But the condition I set myself was that any research I would carry out would address this urgency. And that is how I found myself doing fieldwork.

map of Atchin - © Marie Duhamel 2010
An hour flight from Port-Vila, followed by a 90 minutes rough ride in the back of a pick-up truck, then a short crossing on a tinny boat from the mainland to the islet, and I arrived on Atchin. Luckily, I had been spared a downpour and made it to the island dry with my recording equipment. My contact there was chief Gaston, one of the chiefs of the island, whom I had previously met, out of sheer luck. He had arranged for me to be lodged at his cousin’s. The dwellings consisted of a group of hatch-roof huts and a pink brick house in which I was given a bed, table and chair.

With fewer mosquitoes than on the mainland, islanders are at a reduced risk of catching malaria. But there is little space for gardens on Atchin and, every week day, most adults paddle their canoes to their garden on the mainland, leaving on the island the babies, their mothers or big sisters, the aged and the school-age children who attend the diverse mission-run primary schools. Living without electricity was quite doable, though my solar–powered lamp became very precious. But without running water it was a bit problematic to keep cool in the summer weeks, and I soon learned all the safe spots where I could swim – and avoid the sharks.


paddling to the garden on the mainland - © Marie Duhamel 2010

The language I studied is still actively spoken on the islet and in particular it is the first language spoken by small children. But the youths tend to leave the island for the two main towns of Vanuatu: Port-Vila and Luganville. Often, they marry with people from other islands who don’t speak their mother tongue and they end up speaking the national language, Bislama, to their partner and children. That is how vernacular languages lose their speakers in Vanuatu.

nakamal: where the men gather to drink kava in the evening
© Marie Duhamel 2010


near the Saint Louis catholic mission © Marie Duhamel 2010

I found Vanuatu people markedly aware of all issues about language, its ramification with political and social issues. The people I worked with were all very welcoming and reliable, glad to be involved in the research process. It was very gratifying to work with people who have such deep understanding of what the research was all about. They know that the first step to preserving a language starts with its description, a step I could help with, but that the remaining steps rest with them, the speakers.