Learning a new language

Fr Tom with women from Catholic Women's League (CWL) in Raiwaqa during a visit in 2023. Photo: Fr Tom Rouse

As I was reflecting upon the first reading for the Third Sunday of Lent 2025, from Exodus 3:1-8,13-15 where Moses encounters God in the flaming bush. During their conversation, Moses asks for God’s name, and I was reminded of my Fijian language course, during which I learnt what the Fijian word is for God.

This course began in January 1977. There were four of us doing it: a young Vincentian priest from India, a Marist priest who was also from Aotearoa-New Zealand, an Irish Columban, Frank Hoare, and myself. Our teacher was Ratu Veiwili Komaitai. He was more popularly known as Komai.

Fr David Arms, a Columban and also from New Zealand, who had been sent to the United States to obtain a doctorate in linguistics, had been instrumental in writing and setting up this Fijian language course. He was fortunate to have gained the services of Komai, a high chief of one of the major clans of Fiji, the governor general’s matanivanua (spokesperson) and a person whose knowledge of the Fijian language could barely be rivalled.

Fr David Arms working at translation. Photo: St Columbans Mission Society

When I arrived in Fiji, David had just taken up his new position as the Columban Society’s Vicar-General. He had already moved to Ireland, where our central headquarters were based.

Still, the language course had been well established. So, we began without too much ado. We used a room at the Pacific Regional Seminary in Suva.

Komai had the right personality for a language teacher. He was patient but firm. We had to do our homework. Language learning is largely repetitious and can often be so boring. Repeating sentences as a way of learning the pronouns and verb declensions can be so demanding.

Still, Komai would keep us at it. “Au a lako i na makete. Keirau a lako i na makete. Keitou a lako i na makete. Keimami a lako i na makete.” I went to the market. We (you singular and I) … We (you two and I) … We (you – more than two - and I) … And so forth. Tough. But you had to stick to it if you wanted to get a good grounding in the language. Each evening, we sat with tape recorders, listening to this repetitious series of sentences. Each morning, Komai would get each one of us, repeating these sentences almost endlessly.

But Komai had another quality which I believe is also essential for any good language teacher. He had a dry but wonderful sense of humour. He knew when he was losing our attention or when we became restless and annoyed. He could come up with a funny and appropriate story which would help to relieve the tension.

Following this formal language course, Frank Hoare and I were fortunate to participate in a historical event called “The walk to Nabutautau”. It was a 10-day walk through the centre of Viti Levu, the main island of Fiji. Then I went on the church boat, the Rogokaci, to the island of Kadavu. This was also eventful because we had to anchor off a place called Vabea on the island of Ono for a few days as we endured a cyclone. Both these events were ideal for language learning because all I heard was Fijian.

The next six months I was stationed in the parish of Naililili which covered the Rewa delta area. There I lived with the parish priest, an Irish Marist priest, in the presbytery located in the mission compound. I regularly travelled around the parish by boat or by foot. It was a great place to learn to speak Fijian.

By the time I was assigned to the parish of Ba the week before Christmas of that year I felt sufficiently confident that I could make myself understood and could understand what others were saying.

However, I was fortunate to have been one of the few Columbans who did an advanced course in Fijian a couple of years later. This was as a result of contracting hepatitis and being forced to rest from parish work for six months. Once again, I had Komai as my teacher, and we explored the finer points of the Fijian language.

As I recall my experience of learning Fijian, I imagine Moses had to repeat to himself quite regularly this new name for God – I am who am – as he made his way back to Egypt to take up the task of setting his people free. No doubt he wanted the people to believe him when he spoke the name of God in response to their question, “What is God’s name?” 

Fr Tom Rouse - Regional Councillor of Oceania, lives and works in Aotearoa/New Zealand.