Oct

31

Sunday School

Filed Under Faith & Values, Language, Society & Culture | 7 Comments

My intense love for children and my deep sense of duty constrained me to take that long train ride to Zurich yesterday despite the flu.

It was my turn again to assist one of the Swiss Bible teachers. Although this time around, I felt I was not of great help to Teacher Cornelia (my classmate during the training program); I was not in my element due to my feverish condition. Besides, the four-year-old kids didn’t understand my High German, and I didn’t understand their Swiss German of the Zurich variety. But as I’ve always said in this blog, praise God for the power of pantomime!

I did what I could humanly do: I sang with the kids (more of hand-clapping to be honest), jumped to the kiddie worship music, supervised the artwork session, assembled a Lego house with an African boy, fetched some drinking water for the kids, accompanied a Swiss boy to the loo, and cleared away the mess (toys and glasses) after the one-hour-and-a-half whirlwind of a class. I was blessed to see Teacher Cornelia doing much of the work with a ready smile on her face and a meek servant spirit.

I just love being with kids. They’re so uncomplicated — unlike us grown-ups. They have simple needs and simple joys. They’re not passive aggressive at all; they’re straightforward. What you see (or hear) is what you get. If you want to know the truth about something, go solicit a child’s no-holds-barred opinion. He/she will never mince his/her words for truth’s sake. Children are nature’s truth dispensers.

How I wish I were more fluent in Swiss German so I can have more quality time with the multi-national children in Sunday School next time. I long to know them more and discover their exciting world. To ask them what’s in their minds, and what impels them to do things that they do. And yes, I want to ask why they always ask the one-word question, “Why?”

Yesterday, a number of them discussed “things” with me in rapid Swiss German which I couldn’t understand. Schade (Too bad). I just smiled and nodded my head in return. They didn’t seem to mind. We moved on from one stage of the lesson to another without any hassle.

It’s indeed a great privilege to serve the Lord through the Sunday School ministry of my home church here in Switzerland, the Christliches Zentrum Buchegg (CZB). It was only a few months ago when I was just a teacher trainee who was struggling with the medium of instruction at that time (German). But despite some language impediments on my part, the Sunday School director of our church entrusted me with something very precious: to be a teacher’s assistant in the Sunday School for German-speaking kids (there’s no English Sunday School yet).

I’m just happy to be part of the team, despite the fact that I just clap my hands during group singing time (for lack of German understanding). Hmm…I wonder if the other teachers and TAs notice. At any rate, I always get a fresh boost of inspiration every time I get an assignment schedule from the Sunday School coordinator.

Right now, I don’t really mind doing “just the menial task” (e.g. clearing the mess and putting the books, crayons, dolls, Lego sets, cars and trucks back in their respective storage boxes after each class), and not preparing and teaching thematic Bible lessons as I was trained to do. After all, God weighs our motives, and nothing is too little for Him. I’m happy He considered me worthy to do this ministry work.

Next time, though, I should not forget to drink my multi-vitamins before doing any Sunday School duty. I was really pooped after yesterday’s class. It reminds me that I’m not that young anymore. Oh well. Such is life.

(Note: Christian devotional snippets can be found in the blog “Fish & Loaves.”)

Oct

27

German Gibberish

Filed Under Education & Campus Scene, Family & Friends, Humor, Language, Migrant Life, Society & Culture | 13 Comments

I don’t claim to be fluent in High German — I keep emphasizing “High German” in this blog since the Swiss speak the immigrant-unfriendly Swiss German — but I did have my moments. Like the time when I aced my first ever written exam in my German beginners’ course. Or the morning when my current German teacher informed me that I got 41.5 (out of 45) in our Goethe Institut mock exam.

While this can be credited to pure “luck” (a term I don’t use so much being a Christian) — me being demotivated to learn German after watching too many Holocaust films in the past (important note: the German language should never, never be equated with Hitler) — it can also be attributed to the fact that my Swiss teachers are very good at what they do. And the least I can do is do my part, even though it often entails dragging my feet to class. The truth is, I don’t read my coursebooks and notes at all; I cram 30 minutes before every meeting. But an aptitude test, given to me by language experts way back, indicated that I was a natural linguist (I sincerely doubt the validity of these tests).

When my husband’s aunt died last February, I asked my husband what I should say to his non-English speaking widower-uncle after the funeral service. Knowing my constant struggle with German speaking skills, he suggested that I use a very simple line: “Viel Kraft (More power).” So I made a quick mental note to say “More Power” in German to my husband’s uncle. En route to the Basel church graveyard, I rehearsed the delivery of my one-line script: “Viel Kraft!” “Viel Kraft!” “Viel Kraft!.” Piece of cake, I thought. I stopped worrying about it soon after my three-minute pronunciation drill.

After four hours or so — we were treated to a sit-down dinner after the funeral rites — it was time to say good-bye to all the family members. It took some time before we could approach the frail-looking, eightyish Uncle Paul, the bereaved one. We joined the queue of sympathizers, and I started to clear my throat.

For some reason, my confidence level dropped as I was getting near the teary-eyed relative of my husband. When it was finally my turn to express my personal condolences, I extended my hand to the old man and said with feelings, “Viel krank, Uncle Paul!” He didn’t say anything as everybody within hearing distance looked at me in an odd way (I suddenly felt so Asian).

What was I thinking? In English, this is what I literally said: “Much sick, Uncle Paul!” So you see, while I had genuinely wanted to wish him more health power, an honest mistake in pronunciation (i.e. “krank” instead of “Kraft“) caused me to wish him more sickness in this lifetime (so he could be reunited with his wife soon?). A major booboo. Pronunciation-, vocabulary- and grammar-wise, I didn’t meet the high expectations of my husband and language teachers. And I added insult to injury as far as Uncle Paul was concerned.

I don’t know if I should attend the next Swiss family clan gathering which, most likely, will be held amid another funeral service setup.

Oct

24

Washing Course

Filed Under Business & Finance, Consumer Concerns, Education & Campus Scene, Home Management, In the News, Society & Culture, Swissness | 13 Comments

After seeing how my hubby’s dark blue sweatshirt shrank miserably and how some of our white shirts were tainted disgustingly with ugly, yellow spots, should I send my husband to a men’s course on how to wash clothes properly?

In a recent Swissinfo article, journalist Morven McLean reported that Bauknecht Switzerland, a subsidiary of the Whirlpool Corporation, is currently organizing courses for men “to transform a mountain of dirty washing into a wardrobe full of neatly laundered clothes.”

According to the report, it is women who do the laundry in approximately 80 percent of Swiss households (men are said to avoid the washing machine like the plague). The courses are meant “to redress the balance by teaching men how to wash.”

Course participants will be taught how to separate the white clothes from the colored ones and the delicate material from the synthetic fabric. Also included is a module on how to avoid shrinkage by washing everything at the right temperature.

The communication manager of Bauknecht Switzerland, Barbara Haas, was quoted as saying: “For us women, it’s almost inconceivable that washing can cause such problems,” adding that the main ordeal men have in washing clothes does not lie in the operation of the washing machine per se but in the sorting out of the dirty laundry.

The course, which lasts for one and a half hours, aims to teach men how to separate different fabrics, understand the care symbols, use the right detergents, and to introduce them to the various types of washing machine and different wash programs. After the theoretical part of the course, the male participants will face the “sorting challenge.” They will be given a laundry basket filled with jeans, wool jumpers, silk shirts and lace bras, and other items of clothing which they have to sort correctly.

It seems to be a no-nonsense course. A serious group discussion on what wash program is appropriate for each bundle is scheduled after the theoretical and practical stages of the course. Certificates will be awarded to those who get no more than one mistake in the written test, the report said.

To add fun to the otherwise mundane proceedings of the washing course, the company will give the participants a chance to win a washing machine (that’s the great part, I think). Drinks will also be served, probably to celebrate the ‘male bonding’ formed amid the rigors of real-time laundry work.

The course, taught by male instructors (the laundry experts, I presume), is strictly for men, although ladies can come as “guests,” according to the report.

Having read this interesting news announcement, should I sign up my dear husband for this course? The washing courses, which will run till November, are now being conducted at the Bauknecht AG centers in Lenzburg, Bern and Dietikon.

But I have a confession to make: I was the one responsible for shrinking our sweatshirts and “discoloring” our white shirts just recently. What the communication manager of Bauknecht Switzerland thought as “inconceivable” is actually conceivable. So, are there washing courses for undomesticated-turned-domesticated lady immigrants like me?

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