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Migration, Education and Translation

This multidisciplinary collection examines the connections between education,

migration, and translation across school and higher education sectors, and a broad
range of socio-geographical contexts. Organised around the themes of knowledge,
language, mobility, and practice, it brings together studies from around the world
to offer a timely critique of existing practices that privilege some ways of knowing
and communicating over others. With attention to issues of internationalisation,
forced migration, minorities, and indigenous education, this volume asks how
the dominance of English in education might be challenged, how educational
contexts might be re-imagined in ways that privilege bi- and multi-lingualism,
what we might learn from existing educational practices that privilege minority
or indigenous languages, and how we might exercise ‘linguistic hospitality’ in
a world marked by high levels of forced migration and educational mobility.
As such, it will appeal to scholars across the social sciences with interests in
education, migration, languages, and intercultural communication.

Vivienne Anderson is Associate Director of the Centre for Global Migrations

at the University of Otago, Aotearoa New Zealand. She has published widely
in the areas of education policy and practice, and the internationalisation of
higher education.

Henry Johnson is Associate Director of the Centre for Global Migrations at

the University of Otago, Aotearoa New Zealand. He has published widely in the
fields of heritage, performance, diaspora, and island studies.
Studies in Migration and Diaspora
Series Editor:
Anne J. Kershen, Queen Mary University of London, UK

Studies in Migration and Diaspora is a series designed to showcase the

interdisciplinary and multidisciplinary nature of research in this important field.
Volumes in the series cover local, national and global issues and engage with both
historical and contemporary events. The books will appeal to scholars, students
and all those engaged in the study of migration and diaspora. Amongst the topics
covered are minority ethnic relations, transnational movements and the cultural,
social and political implications of moving from ‘over there’, to ‘over here’.
Undoing Homogeneity in the Nordic Region
Migration, Difference and the Politics of Solidarity
Edited by Suvi Keskinen, Unnur Dís Skaptadóttir and Mari Toivanen
Wellbeing of Transnational Muslim Families
Marriage, Law and Gender
Edited by Marja Tiilikainen, Mulki Al-Sharmani and Sanna Mustasaari
Tracing Asylum Journeys
Transnational Mobility of non-European Refugees to Canada via Turkey
Ugur Yildiz
Convivial Cultures in Multicultural Cities
Polish Migrant Women in Manchester and Barcelona
Alina Rzepnikowska
Democracy, Diaspora, Territory
Europe and Cross-Border Politics
Olga Oleinikova and Jumana Bayeh
Migration, Education and Translation
Cross-Disciplinary Perspectives on Human Mobility and Cultural Encounters in
Education Settings
Edited by Vivienne Anderson and Henry Johnson

For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge.com/

sociology/series/ASHSER1049
Migration, Education
and Translation
Cross-Disciplinary Perspectives on Human
Mobility and Cultural Encounters in
Education Settings

Edited by
Vivienne Anderson and Henry Johnson
First published 2020
by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
and by Routledge
52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2020 selection and editorial matter, Vivienne Anderson and Henry
Johnson; individual chapters, the contributors
The right of Vivienne Anderson and Henry Johnson to be identified as the
authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual
chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or
utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now
known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in
any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing
from the publishers.
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or
registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation
without intent to infringe.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Anderson, Vivienne, editor.
Title: Migration, education, and translation: cross-disciplinary perspectives
on human mobility and cultural encounters in education settings /
edited by Vivienne Anderson, Henry Johnson.
Description: New York: Routledge, 2019. |
Series: Studies in migration and diaspora |
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019033555 (print) | LCCN 2019033556 (ebook) |
ISBN 9780367260347 (hardback) | ISBN 9780429291159 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Educational mobility–Cross-cultural studies. |
Forced migration–Cross-cultural studies. |
Education–Demographic aspects–Cross-cultural studies. |
English language–Cross-cultural studies.
Classification: LCC LC191.8 .M54 2019 (print) |
LCC LC191.8 (ebook) | DDC 306.43–dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019033555
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019033556
ISBN: 978-0-367-26034-7 (hbk)
ISBN: 978-0-429-29115-9 (ebk)
Typeset in Times New Roman
by Deanta Global Publishing Services, Chennai, India
This book is dedicated to the memory of those killed in the
Christchurch mosque attacks on 15 March 2019, to the injured,
and to their families.
Contents

List of illustrations x
List of contributors xi
Foreword by Konai Helu Thaman xvi
Series Editor’s Preface xix
Acknowledgements xxi
Abbreviations xxii

Introduction 1
VIVIENNE ANDERSON AND HENRY JOHNSON

PART 1
Knowledge 11

1 Migration and decolonising doctoral education through

knowledge translation: Post-monolingual research, human
mobility, and encounters with intellectual cultures 13
MICHAEL SINGH

2 The worlding of words: Post-monolingual education at the

Asian University for Women in Chittagong, Bangladesh 29
TIFFANY CONE

3 Translating the International Baccalaureate in different

educational contexts: The benefits of and constraints on
teachers sharing a common lexicon 44
LUCAS WALSH AND NIRANJAN CASINADER
viii Contents
PART 2
Language 57

4 “I feel more Korean now”: Heritage language learning and

identity transformation of a mixed-heritage Korean
New Zealander 59
MI YUNG PARK

5 “We don’t count you as Polish, you’re just like us now”:

Language, integration, and identity for adolescent migrants
in Glasgow 73
SADIE DURKACZ RYAN

6 “With a Little Help from My Friends”: Translation, education,

and linguistic activism in a context of migration 89
HENRY JOHNSON

PART 3
Mobility 103

7 English language teaching as a pathway to university

employment for native English-speaking migrants to Japan 105
NAOKO INOUE AND VIVIENNE ANDERSON

8 “Immigrants of doubtful value”: Translating policy discourse

about international students in New Zealand 117
ANDREW BUTCHER

9 Mobilities, pluralities, and neoliberal priorities: Considering

the international student perspective to explore tensions in
higher education and academic literary practice 129
LAURA GURNEY AND SHERRIE LEE

PART 4
Practice 143

10 Is there any appetite for “linguistic hospitality” in monolingual

educational spaces?: The case for translanguaging in
Australian higher education 145
SUE OLLERHEAD AND SALLY BAKER
 Contents  ix
11 Beyond words: Language hybridity in postcolonial multilingual
classroom environments: Malta’s way forward 161
MICHELLE PANZAVECCHIA AND SABINE LITTLE

12 Education for Nikkei citizens in pre-war America: Japanese

language schools and textbooks in California and Washington 174
TOYOTOMI MORIMOTO

13 Rights, resources, and relationships: A “Three Rs”

framework for enhancing the educational resilience of
refugee background youth 186
RACHEL RAFFERTY

14 Indigenous pedagogies in practice in universities 199

KARYN PARINGATAI

Response: Listen to the land’s language: Learn to translate, again 213

ALISON PHIPPS

Index 223
Illustrations

Figures
5.1  Participants arranged according to LoR and AaA, shaded
according to IM 78
5.2  Rates of aye across individual Polish speakers 80
5.3  Speakers grouped according to LoR 81
5.4  Speakers grouped according to AaA 82
5.5  Speakers grouped according to IM 82
5.6  Rates of aye across individual Glaswegian speakers 85
6.1  A translation of the opening line of “Little Green Shoots”
by Badlabecques 98
12.1  The number of JLSs in Hawaiʻi, California, and
Washington, 1893–1939 175
12.2  Types of JLS textbooks used in Hawaiʻi, California,
and Washington 181

Tables
5.1 Details of the Polish participants 75
5.2 Details of the Glaswegian participants 76
5.3 Overall distribution of aye across the Polish and
Glaswegian speakers 80
6.1 Location of birth 92
6.2 Jersey’s population 92
6.3 Jersey’s post-World War II population 93
6.4 Jèrriais speakers 94
Contributors

Vivienne Anderson is a Senior Lecturer at the University of Otago Higher

Education Development Centre, New Zealand, where she researches questions
relating to education policy and politics, equity and education, educational
mobilities, and teaching and learning in higher education.
Sally Baker is a Lecturer in the School of Education and the education “focal
point” for the Forced Migration Research Network, at the University of New
South Wales, Australia. Her teaching and research interests centre on lan-
guage, literacies, transition, and equity in higher education, particularly with
regard to culturally and linguistically diverse students and refugee students in
particular. As a sociologist of higher education, she works with the Academic
Literacies conceptual and methodological framework, seeking to develop rich,
contextualised pictures of students’ experiences and to expose the discourse,
logic, and power of institutions to open up and constrain opportunities to par-
ticular groups of students.
Andrew Butcher is CEO and Dean at Bethlehem Tertiary Institute, in Tauranga,
New Zealand. Previously, he was Research Director at the Asia New Zealand
Foundation and has held Visiting Fellowships at Victoria University of
Wellington, the University of Otago, and the Institute of Southeast Asian
Studies. He is an alumni of the International Visitor Leadership Program at the
US State Department. He holds a PhD in Sociology from Massey University
and is the author of over 80 publications on migration, international education,
and demography.
Niranjan Casinader is a Senior Lecturer in Curriculum and Assessment at the
Faculty of Education, Monash University, Australia. Following over 30 years’
experience in school-based education as a local, regional, and international
curriculum researcher, developer, and leader, his current research focuses on
the impact of culture and globalisation on curriculum, pedagogy, and teacher
practice.
Tiffany Cone is an Anthropologist with a PhD in Cultural Anthropology from
the Australian National University and a BA (Hons) in Cultural Anthropology
from the University of Otago, New Zealand. She is an Assistant Professor
xii Contributors
of Cultural Anthropology at the Asian University for Women in Chittagong,
Bangladesh. Tiffany has experience conducting ethnographic research and pro-
ducing documentaries in East Asia, South Asia, and the Pacific. Her primary
research interests lie in the field of psychological anthropology and include
cross-cultural conceptions of the self, practices of self-cultivation and mean-
ing-making, and Buddhist, Daoist, and Sufi philosophy and practice. She has
published with Palgrave Macmillan, Brill, Routledge, The Asia Pacific Journal
of Anthropology, and The China Journal.
Laura Gurney is a Lecturer in Te Hononga School of Curriculum and Pedagogy,
University of Waikato, New Zealand. Her research explores transnational,
sociocultural, and geopolitical issues in language teaching practice, includ-
ing the teaching of academic literacies; the professional learning of language
teachers; and the framing, hierarchisation, and use of languages in higher edu-
cation and other domains.
Naoko Inoue is a PhD candidate at the Higher Education Development Centre at
the University of Otago, New Zealand. Her research interests include linguistic
imperialism and higher education internationalisation policy and practice.
Henry Johnson is a Professor at the University of Otago, New Zealand. His
research interests are in Asian Studies, Ethnomusicology, and Island Studies,
and he has carried out field research in Europe, Asia, and Australasia. His
books include The Koto (Hotei, 2004), Asia in the Making of New Zealand
(co-edited, Auckland University Press, 2006), Performing Japan (co-edited,
Global Oriental, 2008), The Shamisen (Brill, 2010), and The Shakuhachi (Brill,
2014).
Sherrie Lee is a Fellow with STAR (Society of Transnational Academic
Researchers) Scholars Network, a transnational forum of scholars advancing
global social mobility through innovative research and progressive advocacy
efforts. Her PhD research integrated theoretical frameworks in novel ways to
understand international students’ learning as brokering practices. Her other
research interests are in the intersecting areas of language, culture, and iden-
tity. She has published in a range of disciplines and is currently an independent
academic. Her work can be found at thediasporicacademic.com.
Sabine Little is a Lecturer in Languages Education at the University of Sheffield,
UK. Her research focuses on multilingual families, how they experience the
emotional and practical links to the various languages, and how these are
involved in each family member’s identity construction process. Her work
explores the home–school nexus and the status that various languages receive
within local and national contexts.
Toyotomi Morimoto is a Professor in the Faculty of Human Sciences, Waseda
University, Japan. His research interests include Japanese Language Schools
and their textbooks in the Pacific Coast states of the mainland US and in
Hawai‘i, the digital archiving of documents and sound recordings of Japanese
 Contributors  xiii
migrants in North and South America, and the personal histories of Japanese
migrants in the United States, Hawai‘i, and Japan. His books include Japanese
Americans and Cultural Continuity: Maintaining Language and Heritage
(Routledge, 1997) and Ekkyō suru Tami to Kyōiku (Transnational Migrants
and Education) (Academia Shuppan, 2007). Toyotomi was President of the
Japanese Association for Migration Studies between 2014 and 2016.
Sue Ollerhead is a Lecturer in English as an Additional Language/LOTE in the
Department of Educational Studies at Macquarie University, Australia. She
has worked in English language and literacy teaching and training in Africa,
Europe, and Australia and has worked extensively on the development of
English language materials for schools in sub-Saharan Africa. Her main inter-
ests are developing disciplinary literacies across the curriculum; learner and
teacher identity in language and literacy education; multilingual education and
translanguaging; and refugee background learners.
Michelle Panzavecchia is an educator with many years of teaching experience in
the early and middle years. She is also a University of Malta Visiting Lecturer
with the Faculty of Education and the Faculty of Health Sciences. Michelle
holds an MSc in Language and Communication Impairment in Children from
the University of Sheffield, UK, and a BEd (Hons.) from the University of
Malta. She is currently reading for a PhD in Bilingualism and English Language
Teaching through the University of Sheffield, UK.
Karyn Paringatai (Ngāti Porou) is a Senior Lecturer in Te Tumu, School of
Māori, Pacific and Indigenous Studies at the University of Otago, New Zealand.
Her research interests include the effects of Māori urbanisation, Māori per-
forming arts, grammatical aspects of the Māori language and second language
acquisition, and Māori teaching methodologies. She is co-director of an Otago
Research Theme, Poutama Ara Rau, the aim of which is to research how Māori
knowledge and pedagogies can transform tertiary teaching to enhance student
success.
Mi Yung Park is a Senior Lecturer in Asian Studies at the University of
Auckland, New Zealand. Her research interests include language and iden-
tity, heritage language maintenance, and multilingualism. She has published
her work in such journals as International Journal of Bilingual Education
and Bilingualism, Language and Education, Language and Intercultural
Communication, Journal of Pragmatics, and Classroom Discourse.
Alison Phipps is the UNESCO Chair in Refugee Integration through Languages
and the Arts at the University of Glasgow, Scotland, and Professor of
Languages and Intercultural Studies. She is a Co-Convener of the Glasgow
Refugee, Asylum and Migration Network, an academic, activist, and published
poet. She was a Distinguished Visiting Professor at the University of Waikato,
Aotearoa New Zealand, 2013–2016; Thinker in Residence at the EU Hawke
Centre, University of South Australia in 2016; Visiting Professor at Auckland
xiv Contributors
University of Technology; and Principal Investigator for an AHRC Large
Grant “Researching Multilingually at the Borders of Language, the Body, Law
and the State.” She is a Co-Director of the Global Challenges Research Fund
“South-South Migration, Inequality and Development Hub.”
Rachel Rafferty is a Lecturer in Peace and Conflict Studies at the University of
Otago, New Zealand. As well as a PhD in Peace and Conflict Studies from the
University of Otago, she holds a Master’s degree from the School of Education
at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Prior to pursuing her gradu-
ate studies, she worked for several years as a peacebuilding practitioner in
Northern Ireland, where she designed and delivered a broad range of commu-
nity education projects. More recently, she has worked in youth development
with the New Zealand Red Cross, where she developed an educational sup-
port programme for refugee background youth. Her research interests lie at the
intersection of group identities, social conflict, and education.
Sadie Durkacz Ryan is a PhD candidate from the University of Glasgow, Scotland,
working between the Department of English Language and Linguistics and the
Department of Education. She is interested in the role of self-perception and
identity in second language acquisition and in the role of language attitudes
and ideologies in the acquisition of stigmatised linguistic features. She pro-
duces Accentricity, a podcast about language attitudes and identity. It can be
accessed at www.accentricity-podcast.com.
Michael Singh is a Professor of Education, at the Centre for Educational Research,
Western Sydney University, Australia. As leader of the Decolonising Learning
Futures: Post-monolingual Research Team, he brings the resources of research-
ing multilingually, decolonising education, and Post-monolingual knowledge
production to the study of education policy practices, English medium instruc-
tion, English for research publication purposes, languages education, learn-
ing leaders, and working integrated learning. His coauthored books include
Localising Chinese (with T. H. N. Nguyễn), Pedagogies for Internationalising
Research Education (with J. Han), Deschooling L’earning (with R. Harreveld),
Appropriating English (with P. Kell and A. Pandian), and Performance
Indicators in Education. He is also co-editor of The Globalisation of Higher
Education (with T. Hall, T. Gray, and G. Downey), Precarious International
Multicultural Education (with H. Wright and R. Race), and Globalizing
Education (with M. Apple and J. Kenway).
Konai Helu Thaman is currently Professor of Pacific Education and Culture
at the USP Centre for Arts, Culture and Pacific Studies, Fiji. She was the
UNESCO Chair in Teacher Education and Culture at the University of the
South Pacific (USP) from 1998 to 2016. Konai was born and raised in Tonga,
where she received her primary and secondary education. She has researched,
published, and conducted consultancies in curriculum development, teacher
education, indigenous education and development, women and university
management, and Pacific research frameworks. She is also a widely read and
 Contributors  xv
published poet, with five published collections and several poems translated
into different languages.
Lucas Walsh is a Professor of Education Policy and Practice, Youth Studies, and
Deputy Dean of the Faculty of Education at Monash University, Australia.
Over the last 20 years, his research has explored the cultural and technological
aspects of international education and its implications for students, teachers,
and school leaders. He previously managed the Online Curriculum Centre at
the International Baccalaureate in the United Kingdom and held four research
fellowships.
Foreword

For those, like myself, who migrated voluntarily or involuntarily from their home-
land to another country for educational purposes or who work with foreign and/
or international students in higher education institutions, this book is a must-read.
Parts of this book made me laugh; others made me cry; and yet others forced me
to re-think my own feelings about the many and varied experiences I had in trying
to understand the things as well as the people I encountered. These experiences
included trying to understand the accents of my English-speaking teachers and
professors; the American university administrators who could not understand why
it took me three and not four years to complete my degree; and why a colleague at
my current university asked what the female equivalent of a freshman was.
I received the education of a Tongan woman. My early education until the
end of primary/elementary school was entirely in the Tongan language. Later I
was introduced to English, and from Form 1 until I left high school, English was
privileged in the school curriculum as well as in teaching and learning—as all of
my high school teachers were non-Tongans and spoke only English. I struggled
both in high school and later as a university student in Auckland, New Zealand,
to understand my teachers and professors, as I tried to translate (in my head) what
they said in English into Tongan, so I could answer their questions. Of course
very few of them knew a lot about where I came from, so they were not really
able to contextualise their teaching in order to make things more meaningful and
relevant for me. After all, most of their students were English speakers who had
no difficulty understanding them. When I returned to Tonga I was expected to
teach (in English) an all Tongan class, something that I thought inappropriate if
not silly. So, as with most teachers, I tried to translate into Tongan the difficult
concepts that were prescribed in the curriculum, despite the fact that students
at the school were punished for speaking their own language if discovered by a
prefect or teacher.
This sad state of affairs was a common feature of colonised contexts in general
and Pacific Island schools in particular; it resulted in the marginalisation of Pacific
indigenous languages. I have no doubt that learning another language can lead
to improved understanding of other people and other cultures. However, when a
foreign language is privileged in teaching and learning, the message conveyed to
students is that their mother language is not important when it comes to serious
 Foreword  xvii
study. As suggested by Russell Bishop, the consequences of privileging the colo-
nial language led to the pathologising and marginalising of Māori and, I can add,
other Pacific indigenous languages. And the impact of this may be manifested in
a loss of cultural identity.
As a teacher who had to instruct Tongan students in English, my job was to
translate what I had to teach in ways that were meaningful to students. In an
English literature class, I made up verses using Tongan metaphors and poetic
symbols in order to teach complex notions of poetry before getting the students to
read the works of prescribed poets (English and American). I got the students to
write their own poems in either Tongan or English or both and to share these with
the rest of the class. I did this because I knew how difficult it was for me when I
was a school student, and I wanted to make things a little easier for them. Later
when I joined the staff of the University of the South Pacific, where the medium
of teaching is English and the students are learning in their second, third, or even
fourth language, I soon became passionate about the need to ensure that teaching,
learning, and research (at least in the contexts of Pacific Island peoples) are cultur-
ally (and linguistically) democratic.
The authors of this book set out to address the complexities and challenges
associated with migration, education, and translation using different themes,
including knowledge, language, mobility, and practice.
In relation to issues of knowledge in higher education, the main questions for
me were whose knowledge is considered important here and how can we ensure
that the academy values different sources of knowledge and ways of knowing,
including how knowledge is produced and organised? This is especially impor-
tant for culturally and linguistically diverse educational settings. Suggestions for
re-thinking and re-imagining undergraduate as well as graduate studies in order
to take into account students’ cultural and linguistic backgrounds are timely if
not provocative, as is the question about how international is the International
Baccalaureate.
Issues relating to the language of teaching and learning are of particular inter-
est to many of us who have experienced the impact of migration and education.
Here we are introduced to a variety of contexts and challenges, including the posi-
tive result of heritage language learning in Aotearoa New Zealand, how young
people acquire local linguistic forms in Scotland, and the negative as well as posi-
tive linguistic impact of inward migration on the island of Jersey.
The issue of mobility in higher education has been around since the 1980s.
Today, the fashionable term that universities like to include in their strategic plans
is “internationalisation,” which is often considered alongside another fashionable
term, “innovation.” In both cases, at least in Oceania, the English (or French)
language is obviously privileged as many students apparently prefer to obtain a
Westernised Anglophone degree. There is a timely suggestion in this book about
the need to re-think and critically examine the monolingual nature of the higher
education landscape as well as the impact of neoliberal global capitalism on the
internationalisation of higher education.
xviii Foreword
Finally, there are some interesting examples of various attempts to “opera-
tionalise” some of the research findings and important issues discussed in the
book. These examples take place in different settings, including Australia, Malta,
Hawai‘i, and Aotearoa, New Zealand.
I congratulate the authors and editors of this book for providing us with an
amazing feast of knowledges, sourced from diverse contexts using a team of
“translators” who are passionate about sharing their research findings and practice
with others. In an age when the business model is king in many nations and their
higher education institutions, it is refreshing to come across those who continue
to question things that many of us are afraid to question or have simply taken
for granted. Migration, education, and translation are interconnected themes that
have local as well as global appeal, because they address issues that confront ordi-
nary people and educational institutions as they struggle to remain sustainable in
an age of dependence, uncertainty, and change.

Your words are empty

Sucking dry the brown dust
Left by earth and sky
Patches politely parched
With no water flowing
From the mountain top
Scars burn on my soft skin
You’ve cut a piece of me away
Leaving my bandaged heart
To endure the pain
Of your tying me
To yourself
(“Your Words,” from Kakala [1993])
Konai Helu Thaman
Series Editor’s Preface

The contributions to this book emphasise the complexity of translingualism that

prevails when students—from young schoolchildren to PhD scholars—are faced
with being taught in a language which is other than their own. I encountered this
in my own research in 2013 when the Deputy Headmistress of a senior school
in North Shropshire asked me:1 ‘What am I supposed to do when I arrive on a
Monday morning and find four new students, all from Bulgaria, none of whom
speak English and neither I nor anyone else at the school speaks Bulgarian and
the Council’s Education Department offers no support?’. I refer to this here as I
believe it underlines the core theme of this book; how, or indeed are, monolingual
schools and the world of academia adapting to the increasing need for multilin-
gual fluency in the field of education? This enlightening volume addresses the
pedagogical issues, needs, and benefits that arise when educating migrant students
and students for whom, as a result of colonisation, their heritage language has
become secondary to that of the colonisers; as, for example, in the case of the
Māori population of New Zealand or Native Americans.
The contributions to this volume primarily, but not exclusively, focus on
Australasia and the pedagogic processes employed to enable students, for whom
English is a second language, to fully participate in the advancement of their
learning, though not at the expense of eschewing their heritage tongue. In New
Zealand, students are encouraged to value and combine their Māori culture with
that inherited as a result of British settlement, and thus benefit from embracing
their own language as well as English. Globally, there have recently been attempts
to eradicate the marginalisation of secondary languages by bringing heritage
tongues into the classroom, thus enabling young students to honour the wealth
of age-old traditions and cultures that form their background. One place where
this (re)valuation of heritage language has taken place is Wales, where once the
Welsh language was forbidden in schools, a practice that persisted in some places
up until World War II. Welsh is now a mandatory part of the school curriculum,
and code switching between English and Welsh has become a common part of
everyday conversation.
Translation is the third noun in the title of this book and represents the most
important element of the narratives. Translating is rarely, if ever, a case of sim-
ply ‘this’ for ‘that.’ For example, whilst the English word ‘home’ can cover a
xx Series Editor’s Preface
multiplicity of meanings from the country of birth to the place of residence and
even returning to base in a rounders match, the French and German languages
provide a selection of different nouns to more precisely fit the circumstance.
Thus, for the student, translating it is not only a case of substituting one word for
another, it requires an understanding of the concepts and relationships that the
‘foreign’ word or expression conveys. There is a challenge in ‘translating’ which
demands empathy as well as dictionary, as the chapter on students studying at
the Asian University in Bangladesh highlights. Students from countries in Asia,
Africa, and the Middle East were set a project to translate a work by the French
philosopher Bourdieu. Whilst doing so they recognised the need to contextualise
his work through their own cultural and linguistic backgrounds in order to fully
understand the breadth and depth of meaning, enriching their own language in the
process. However, this volume does not only focus on the complexities of trans-
lating philosophical or sociological theory; the everyday is of equal importance
in the migrant linguistic experience and process of integration. Familiarity with
the local vernacular can be equally as important and demanding, as the chap-
ter on young Polish students in Glasgow reveals. In this instance, acquisition of
the correct ‘lingo’ facilitated acceptance of the adolescent migrants into the local
community.
By dividing this book into four parts, the editors have enabled the reader to
cover a range of themes, topics, and theories which together provide a broader
and enhanced understanding of the mechanics and emotions of language in the
migrant and colonised student experience. These range from a study of epistemo-
logical systems, through issues of identity and heritage and the politics of edu-
cation in relation to both migrant students and migrant teachers, to the actual
practices engaged in the pedagogy of translanguaging. The result is an invaluable
volume which should be mandatory reading, not just for those engaged in the
field of linguistics but for all those for whom the study of the student experience,
migrant or home, is of major concern.
Anne J Kershen
Queen Mary University of London

Note
1 In 2012/13 I carried out a comparative study of the impact of immigration on the rural
county of Shropshire and the inner London Borough of Tower Hamlets.
Acknowledgements

We are grateful to Professor Angela McCarthy, Director of the University of

Otago Centre for Global Migrations, whose enthusiasm and energy encouraged
us to undertake this book project. Dr Lisa Marr, our editorial assistant, showed
exceptional skill, patience, and efficiency in responding to our numerous drafts.
The University of Otago provided funding support for the project, through its
Centre for Global Migrations.
Abbreviations

AaA Age at Arrival

AL Academic language
AMEP Adult Migrant English Programme
AUW Asian University for Women
CALD Culturally and Linguistically Diverse
DHA Australian Government Department of Home Affairs
EAL English as an Additional Language
ELL English Language Learners
ENZ Education New Zealand
ESL English as a Second Language
ESOL English for Speakers of Other Languages
HDR Higher Degree Researchers
HE Higher Education
HEI Higher Education Institution
HL Heritage Language
IB International Baccalaureate
IEC Intensive English Centres
IELTS International English Language Testing System
IM Integrative Motivation
JET Japan Exchange and Teaching
JLS Japanese Language School
K–12 Kindergarten to 12th grade (North America)
L1 First Language
L2 Second Language
LoR Length of Residency
LOTE Languages Other than English
MA Master of Arts
MHDR Multilingual Higher Degree Researchers
NCEA National Certificate of Educational Achievement
NESB Non-English-speaking background
NNS Non-native English-speaking
NZ New Zealand
NZHR New Zealand House of Representatives
 Abbreviations  xxiii
P–12 Prep to year 12 (Australia)
PhD Doctor of Philosophy
PMRM Post-monolingual research methods
PYP Primary Years Programme
TAFE Technical and Further Education
TEFL Teaching English as a Foreign Language
VET Vocational Education and Training
Introduction
Vivienne Anderson and Henry Johnson

In educational contexts, those who experience or encounter migration in its many

manifestations will negotiate linguistic, cultural, and/or epistemological trans-
lation (Cronin, 2006; Inghilleri, 2017). This process can be seen as helping to
forge cultural roots or identities, as people experience “culturally, socially, and
linguistically managed encounters and entanglements with others” (Inghilleri,
2017, p. 1). Aotearoa New Zealand exemplifies the complex ways specific his-
tories shape education policies and practices, and highlights the impact of (mis)
translation on the lives of all who encounter migration in its many manifestations.
Indigenous (Māori) people migrated to the islands of Aotearoa from other parts
of Polynesia, establishing distinct cultural and linguistic practices in specific geo-
graphic regions. In 1840, the Treaty of Waitangi, signed by representatives of the
British Crown and a number of Māori tribal leaders, led to the establishment of
New Zealand as a British colony. More recently, extensive Treaty negotiations
have highlighted how the English- and Māori-language versions of the Treaty
meant different things to the signatory groups and how colonial practices fol-
lowing the Treaty signing led to devastating linguistic, economic, and social out-
comes for Māori, including in the education sector (Bishop, 2005).
Non-British migrants have also inhabited Aotearoa New Zealand since its
establishment as a British colony, but migration flows have altered over time
alongside shifting notions of “nationhood,” changing labour market needs, and
concurrent shifts in social policy (Larner, 1998). Since the early 1990s in par-
ticular, Aotearoa New Zealand has seen a rapid increase in migrant groups from
Asia and especially from China and India, including a dramatic increase in the
number of Asian international students (Anderson, McGrath, & Butcher, 2014).
Translation can be seen as inherent in everyday communication and identity nego-
tiation within Aotearoa New Zealand. For example, media representation, the
establishment of new community events honouring cultural and religious tradi-
tions, and shifting debates around education provision reveal shifting encounters
and entanglements between and across linguistic, socio-cultural, and historical
traditions and identities. In an increasingly diverse, “settler” nation, founded on
a (mis)translated agreement between Māori and the British Crown, key ques-
tions for education include which languages are privileged in education settings,
and for what reasons? How are indigenous histories remembered or rendered
2 Vivienne Anderson and Henry Johnson
invisible through course content and school curricula? How are migrant histo-
ries and experiences acknowledged and remembered at all levels of education?
How are intercultural encounters translated within educational discourse? Whose
epistemologies and identities are privileged in educational policy, pedagogy, and
research? Such questions underpin the purpose of this book and emerge in various
ways throughout the chapters.
Translation allows people to move between languages, social and behav-
ioural norms, ideas, interpretations, and individual and collective meanings.
However, as Lugones (2006) suggests, translation also involves the reduction
of differences in an effort to “understand” another. Where translation assumes
transparency, it involves domination and, sometimes, violence (Lugones, 2006).
Colonial histories exemplify this kind of translation. In Aotearoa New Zealand,
Māori scholar Russell Bishop (2005) has explored how, following colonisation,
Māori identities and te reo Māori (the Māori language) were actively patholo-
gised through school policy that prohibited and marginalised the use of te reo,
pedagogical practices that marginalised Māori students, and curriculum materi-
als that represented Māori in deficit terms. Alongside and following land con-
fiscation, the outcomes of educational marginalisation were devastating. Arohia
Durie (1997) draws a connection between the loss of languages, lands, and
identities for indigenous people in Aotearoa New Zealand and argues that, “For
young Māori, to be without the [Māori] language and without ancestral lands,
meant the loss of two of the most significant criteria for successful formation
of a strong Māori cultural identity” (p. 17). As a result of Māori political and
social action, te reo is now enjoying a period of revitalisation, following the
establishment of Māori-medium broadcasting, Māori-medium educational path-
ways (Te Rito, 2008), and efforts by iwi (tribal groups) and whānau (families)
to reclaim te reo and specific iwi-based dialects for everyday communication in
the home (see White & Rewi, 2014). Indigenous perspectives demand attention
to the purposes and outcomes of education at all levels and, in particular, the role
of education in promoting language loss, language revitalisation, and cultural
translation.
On a global level, contemporary educational migrations take many forms and
have a range of implications for national education systems. Academic literature
addresses educational migrations in relation to a wide range of topics and ques-
tions.1 In higher education, migration and education are often considered in rela-
tion to “internationalisation,” or the movement of ideas, staff, and students across
borders. Arguably, colonial relations can be seen as ongoing in internationali-
sation arrangements, including university ranking methodologies and academic
publishing processes that privilege the English language (Singh, Chapter 1; Stein,
2016). Internationalisation raises questions about the translatability of course
content—whether ideas grounded or developed in one socio-political context are
relevant to another (Anderson, Young, Blanch, & Smith, 2018). Critical scholars
have called for attention to linguistic, historical, and epistemic asymmetries inher-
ent in higher education processes and practices and to how international students
as “knowledge actors” translate knowledge in ways that shape their educational
 Introduction 3
institutions and the communities beyond (Madge, Raghuram, & Noxolo, 2009;
Singh & Han, 2016).
Forced migrations raise questions about educational access—how national
education systems can serve those from minority language groups, who may
have experienced trauma, loss, and broken educational pathways (Atanasoska
& Proyer, 2018; Morrice, 2013; O’Rourke, 2011). Such questions include: how
might educational contexts be reimagined in ways that privilege bi- and multilin-
gualism? How might English language dominance be challenged in educational
spaces at local and global levels? What can be learnt from existing educational
spaces that privilege minoritised or indigenous languages? How might we exer-
cise “linguistic hospitality” in a world marked by high levels of forced migration
and educational mobility? What would this look like in practice?
However, migration, education, and translation are themes with relevance
beyond language per se and beyond formal educational institutions. We write
this introduction in the wake of three hate-inspired attacks on innocent people
in mosques in Aotearoa New Zealand, churches and hotels in Sri Lanka, and a
synagogue in the United States. In our context, the mosque attacks have thrown
into sharp relief the potential life-and-death consequences of words and ideas
(ideals?) that migrate via social media and are translated into acts of extreme
violence. In Aotearoa New Zealand, questions are being asked about the role of
education in fostering the migration and translation of words and values that fos-
ter self-­reflection, openness to otherness, and care; or conversely, hatred, fear, and
distrust. Here, the mosque attacks have prompted difficult conversations about the
place of white supremacy in a settler colony and about historical hate-inspired
attacks (for example, on indigenous Māori) that remain unacknowledged in con-
temporary school curricula. Conversely, we have seen many life-giving examples
of translation work—literally, as multilingual community members broker rela-
tionships between affected families and government and community agencies;
and more symbolically, as individuals (including school and university students)
mobilise efforts to express collective sorrow, outrage, and solidarity and to come
together following the loss of friends, neighbours, students, and colleagues. For
the first time in Aotearoa New Zealand, many public events and media reports
have been demonstrably multilingual, featuring Arabic, Māori, English, and New
Zealand Sign Language.
At this moment in history, we see this book as offering an important contribu-
tion to education scholarship and beyond. The book considers the questions high-
lighted above in relation to four broad themes: knowledge, language, mobility,
and practice. In Part 1: Knowledge, three chapters consider migration, education,
and translation in relation to epistemologies or knowledge systems. In Chapter
1, Michael Singh considers both linguistic and epistemic translation in relation
to doctoral education, asking how this level of education could be reimagined in
ways that make “bi- and multilingualism a norm.” Singh draws the connection
between languages, histories, geopolitics, knowledge production, and education.
He describes the “internationalisation of doctoral education [as] a unidirectional,
monolingual agenda led by English-medium universities,” while noting how
4 Vivienne Anderson and Henry Johnson
attention to the “histories of languages and knowledge exchange” reveals transla-
tion work as central to the development of the “modern scientific canon,” despite
the global ascendancy of the English language in present-day academic publish-
ing. Singh identifies practical steps through which research educators might model
Post-monolingual research methodologies for doctoral students, and doctoral
students might apply Post-monolingual research methodologies in their research
work. In Chapter 2, Tiffany Cone, writing from the Asian University for Women
in Bangladesh, then shares her work seeking to operationalise a Post-monolingual
research methodology (or, perhaps, pedagogy) in undergraduate university edu-
cation. Cone, whose students are overwhelmingly multilingual, explores how
theoretical ideas were reshaped and reinvigorated by being “rethought” through
multilingual students’ linguistic traditions. In this, she recognises multilingual
students as “agents of the flows [and construction] of … knowledge” within her
discipline of social anthropology (Madge, Raghuram, & Noxolo, 2009, p. 40);
multilingualism as a rich epistemic and educational resource; and translation as a
means for rethinking theory in English-medium university classrooms. In Chapter
3, Lucas Walsh and Niranjan Casinader take a different slant on translation, con-
sidering how one educational system, the International Baccalaureate (IB), trans-
lates across two socio-geographical contexts—Canada and Australia—and across
different school sites in each context. While teachers in Walsh and Casinader’s
study expressed an appreciation of the “common language” that the IB affords,
they also revealed the contestedness of words when teachers seek to translate
them into practice in educational contexts marked by their own unique colonial
and political histories. Walsh and Casinader’s chapter highlights the tensions
inherent in the migration and translation of pedagogical ideas (or ideals) from one
context to another.
In Part 2: Language, three chapters consider migration, education, and transla-
tion in relation to language, linguistic traditions, and identities. In Chapter 4, Mi
Yung Park explores the impact of heritage language learning on a young “mixed-
heritage” New Zealander, who grew up as a monolingual English speaker with a
European-background father and Korean mother. Park examines the intersections
between language learning across contexts (in Aotearoa New Zealand and Korea)
and identity development, highlighting the tensions inherent in navigating lin-
guistic and social practices across educational and social contexts, where shifting
power relations led to a shifting sense of constructed and imposed identity. Park’s
chapter reveals the transformative power of language for one language learner,
while suggesting the importance in educational contexts of resisting the simplis-
tic conflation of ethnicity, language, and identity. In Chapter 5, Sadie Durkacz
Ryan challenges simplistic notions of English or English language dominance.
Her chapter highlights how the English language comes in many forms, exploring
how young people in Glasgow whose first language is Polish take up vernacular
(Glaswegian) forms of English in educational contexts. Ryan’s chapter contin-
ues Park’s consideration of the complex interplay between language, power, and
identity, in this case, for migrant young people in Glasgow. However, Ryan also
notes the complex interplay between language use, identity, and power for “local”
Another random document with
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Dach des Hauses unser Abendbrot und zogen uns dann sofort in
unsere Mückennetze zurück, denn es war 4 Uhr, und schon ging ein
neuer Tag im Osten auf.
Süßes Wasser gab es in diesem unglückseligen Dörfchen nicht.
Auch der Brunnen auf dem Hof des Stationsgebäudes bot nur
salzhaltiges Wasser und war für den ganzen Ort mit seinen 60
Häusern und 250 Einwohnern und ebenso für die Reisenden, für
Menschen und Tiere die einzige Quelle; das Wasser eines nahen
Flüßchens war ganz ungenießbar. Der Tigris war von hier drei
Stunden entfernt. Es gab gewiß zwingende Gründe, die Station
soweit vom Strom anzulegen, wie es wohl auch seinen Grund hatte,
daß die Sumpfgräben, in denen die meisten Fuhrwerke auf dieser
sonderbaren Etappenstraße verunglücken mußten, nicht überbrückt
waren. Das nötige Holz mit Kelleks auf dem Tigris heranzuschaffen,
konnte unmöglich schwer sein.
Schölvinck und ich waren die ersten, die am andern Tage in
glühender Mittagshitze das Nest Schura verließen. Wir waren aber
noch nicht weit gekommen, als wir schon wieder in einem tiefen
Engpaß mit schroffen Seitenwänden und einem Salzwasserbach
festsaßen. Diese hier so zahlreichen Salzquellen scheinen fast das
ganze Jahr zu fließen. Wachtmeister Schmitt kam uns mit den
Leuten seiner Eselkarawane zu Hilfe, aber nun ging es so schnell
bergauf, daß die Deichsel in den schroff ansteigenden Boden
hineinfuhr und mitten durchbrach. Die Pferde wurden wieder
ausgespannt, das Wrack auf das freie Feld hinaufgezogen, und
unser Kutscher machte sich in Gesellschaft des Gendarmen daran,
die Deichsel zu flicken. Die armen Pferde standen derweil im
glühenden Sonnenbrand und mochten kaum die elenden trockenen
Halme knabbern, die ihnen die Heuschrecken übrig gelassen hatten.
In einer Senkung neben der Straße weideten einige Kamele, die sich
in der Hitze sehr behaglich zu fühlen schienen. Um 1 Uhr hatten wir
im Schatten unseres Wagenverdecks 41,9 Grad — das versprach
einen angenehmen Nachmittag!
 Alle Mann greifen zu.
Mit Pflock und Strick war endlich die Deichsel wieder instand
gesetzt, aber man brauchte kein Fachmann zu sein, um diesem
Kunstwerk keine lange Dauer zu versprechen. Wir waren denn auch
kaum einen Kilometer weitergefahren, als der Verband wieder
aufging. Nun schickten wir unsern Gendarm zu den übrigen Wagen
zurück, um eine ordentliche Schiene zu holen; nach ein paar
Stunden kehrte er mit einer — Schnur zurück. Glücklicherweise
kamen jetzt einige Flößer aus Tekrit des Wegs, die mit gebrochenen
Wagengliedern umzugehen wußten, und halfen uns aus der
Verlegenheit, so daß wir wieder in langsamem Schritt weiterfahren
konnten.
Nach einiger Zeit führte die Straße über eine kleine
Gebirgsschwelle, von deren Höhe die Windungen und grünen Inseln
des Tigris und seine ebenfalls grünleuchtenden Uferränder sichtbar
wurden. Schon hofften wir, die Mühsal dieses Tages überstanden zu
haben, denn die grauen Häuser und schwarzen Zelte von Hammam
Ali, unserm letzten Lagerplatz vor Mosul, waren schon zu erkennen.
Aber es kam anders.
 Die Deichsel wird geflickt.
Die Etappenstraße verwandelte sich mit einmal in eine
unheimlich steile, schmale Rinne in festem Fels. Jedesmal, wenn
das Wagenrad von einer Steinplatte polternd herabglitt, erwartete
man eine Katastrophe. Doch erreichten wir noch ohne Unfall wieder
ebenes Land, wo zahlreiche Störche in einem Sumpf Frösche,
Eidechsen und Mäuse suchten. Dann aber öffnete sich vor uns ein
tiefes und großes Wadi, durch dessen Furche ein Süßwasserbach
nach dem Tigris hinabging. Wir fuhren auf dem rechten Ufer, das
nicht allzu schroff abfiel, während das linke um so jäher zu den
flachen Hügeln anstieg, die uns noch von Hammam Ali trennten.
Kurz vor der Talfurche teilte sich der Weg; unser Kutscher bog links
ab, während er rechts hätte fahren sollen, und plötzlich geriet unser
Wagen ins Abwärtsrollen. Eine Bremse fehlte, und die Pferde waren
zu müde, ihn aufzuhalten. Zehn Meter vor uns aber hörte die Straße
am Rande der zwei Meter hohen, senkrechten und überhängenden
Erosionsterrasse, die jedenfalls noch nicht lange durch einen
heftigen Regenstrom ausgewaschen war, völlig auf! Vergebens, daß
ich „Dur!“ (halt!) rief — unaufhaltsam näherten wir uns dem Abhang.
Schölvinck schrie auf und warf sich aus dem Wagen, ich folgte
seinem Beispiel, und eine Sekunde später stürzten Wagen und
Pferde in die Tiefe.

Nach dem Absturz.

Es war ein regelrechter Purzelbaum, den unsere Droschke
gemacht hatte. Die Pferde fielen verhältnismäßig sanft in den Kies,
die Deichsel zerbrach aufs neue, der Wagen stürzte auf Vorderräder
und Kutscherbock und schlug vornüber, das zertrümmerte Verdeck
zu unterst. Der Kutscher hatte so geschickt pariert, daß er zwischen
die Pferde zu liegen und mit heiler Haut davonkam. Aber sein
Begleiter, ein Stalljunge, lag schreiend im Bach. Wir zogen ihn sofort
aufs Trockene; auch er konnte von Glück sagen, seine Glieder
waren heil, er hatte nur einige Hautwunden an Kopf und Knien
davongetragen.
Der Kutscher half den Pferden aus dem Geschirr und auf die
Beine, und wir fischten nun unsere Sachen zusammen, die zum Teil
auf dem Kutscherbock verstaut gewesen waren. Schölvincks
photographischer Apparat war in Stücke gegangen, meiner ganz
geblieben. Das Schlimmste war der zertrümmerte Wagen! Wie
sollten wir nun mit Sack und Pack weiterkommen?
In diesem Augenblick erschien Konsul Schünemann wie ein
rettender Engel auf den Hügeln des linken Bachufers. Er war schon
in Hammam Ali gewesen, aber da wir so bedenklich lange auf uns
hatten warten lassen, in Vorahnung eines Unfalls mit seiner
Droschke zurückgekommen. Unsere verunglückte Equipage
überließen wir nun einstweilen ihrem Schicksal, luden unsere
Siebensachen auf den andern Wagen und fuhren so als gerettete
Schiffbrüchige in Hammam Ali ein.
Konsul Schünemann hatte überraschende Neuigkeiten vom
Kriegsschauplatz zu erzählen. Am Skagerrak hatte am 31. Mai und
1. Juni eine Seeschlacht stattgefunden, die mit einem großen Erfolg
der Deutschen ausgegangen war: die Engländer hatten 23, die
Deutschen nur 10 Kriegsschiffe verloren, obgleich bei Beginn der
Schlacht die englische Kampfflotte der deutschen ums Doppelte
überlegen war.
Die andere Neuigkeit war Kitcheners Untergang mit der
„Hampshire“. In diesem energischen Heerführer Großbritanniens
verloren die Zentralmächte einen gefährlichen Gegner; dennoch
mußte ich seinen Tod bedauern, denn er war mein Freund oder war
es doch gewesen. Ich hatte mehrfach bei ihm vornehmste
Gastfreundschaft genossen und bis kurz vor dem Kriege von Zeit zu
Zeit mit ihm in Briefwechsel gestanden; der Krieg hatte uns getrennt.
Das wundervolle Märchen seines Lebens hatte ich stets mit Anteil
verfolgt, seine männliche Energie bewundert und seinen
geradsinnigen Charakter geliebt. Obgleich er in allen Dingen seine
eigene, feste Meinung hatte, wußte er doch auch fremde Ansichten
zu achten, und ich war stets überzeugt, daß gerade er nach dem
Kriege am ersten wieder in ein leidliches Verhältnis zu dem Gegner
gekommen wäre. Ich halte ihn für den größten Engländer unserer
Zeit, und sein Tod hinterläßt in jedem, der ihn kannte, eine große
Leere.
Schon in Mosul erreichten uns auch die bis heute noch
unbestätigten Gerüchte über die Art seines Todes. Der Mann, der bei
seinem Leichenbegängnis geehrt worden wäre wie kein anderer
Brite, hatte nicht einmal ein Grab erhalten können, und niemand
wußte, wo seine sterblichen Überreste Ruhe gefunden! Einige
gerettete Matrosen hatten noch gesehen, wie Kitchener, seine
Zigarette rauchend, aufrecht und ruhig auf der Kommandobrücke
des sinkenden Schiffs stand. Dann hatte ihn eine schäumende
Meereswoge plötzlich entführt. Wohin schweiften wohl seine
Gedanken, als er die Woge kommen sah, die ihm den Tod brachte?
Schossen die farbenprächtigen Bilder seines reichen Lebens noch
einmal wie ein Blitz an ihm vorüber? Gedachte er der Zeit, da er mit
Unterstützung des Palestine Exploration Fund die Karte des Heiligen
Landes aufnahm, oder als er bei Omdurman den Mahdi und seine
Derwische vernichtete? Sah er die Blockhäuser von Transvaal, und
hörte er den Jubel, mit dem London den Sieger bei seiner Rückkehr
begrüßte? Oder träumte er von den sonnigen Tagen in Indien, da er
seinen stärksten Widersacher, Lord Curzon, niederrang und die
Organisation der Armee vollendete, auf der die britische Herrschaft
am Ganges beruht? Wie ein Märchen, wie etwas im höchsten Grade
Unwirkliches muß ihm diese stolze Bilderreihe in diesem Augenblick
erschienen sein. Welch grausame Ironie des Schicksals, daß er, der
stets die größten Schwierigkeiten zu überwinden wußte, nun hilflos
von einer Meereswoge dahingerafft wurde! Ob er wohl in seinem
letzten Augenblick auch der beiden letzten Jahre gedachte, die seine
glänzende Vergangenheit verdunkelten? Hatte er eingesehen, daß
er jetzt auf einen Feind gestoßen war, der nicht besiegt werden
konnte, daß Englands Herrschaft auf dem Weltmeer zu Ende ging
und daß es für ihn selbst hieß: „Bis hierher und nicht weiter“? Eines
hatte ihm jedenfalls das Schicksal gnädig erspart: die Niederlage
Englands zu erleben.
Man hat gesagt, Kitchener sei, als er unterging, auf dem Wege
nach Rußland gewesen; er habe für gemeinsame Operationen der
Ententemächte gegen Deutschlands Nordfront wirken sollen —
lauter Vermutungen. Die Wissenden sind stumm.
Mit solchen Gedanken zog ich in Hammam Ali ein, ein kleines
Dorf von etwa zehn Hütten inmitten weiter Ackerfelder, mit einem
türkischen Erholungsheim für Offiziere und einem Kavekhane, vor
dem ich unser Lager aufgeschlagen fand.

Kleine Brücke auf dem Wege nach Mosul.

Am folgenden Tag machte sich die Nähe einer größeren Stadt
allenthalben bemerkbar. Zahlreiche Reiter, Männer und Frauen, auf
Pferden und Mauleseln, begegneten uns. Ein türkischer Beamter
reiste mit seiner ganzen Familie südwärts, und ein vornehmer
Araber schien auf seinem Pferde zu schlafen im Schatten eines
weißen Sonnenschirms, den ein Diener, der hinter dem Herrn auf
der Krupe des Pferdes saß, halten mußte. Zahlreiche Fußgänger
belebten den Weg; Landleute kamen schwer bepackt vom Einkauf in
den Basaren. Der eigenartige Charakter der Etappenstraße blieb
aber auch jetzt derselbe; er steigerte sich noch durch zahlreiche
Brücken und Brückchen aus weißem Kalkstein, die nach Aussage
des Kutschers höchstens zehn Jahre alt, aber durch Regengüsse
und Sturzbäche mehr oder weniger zerstört waren. Viele waren
völlig eingestürzt, nur ihre Pfeiler standen noch; zum mindesten
fehlten auf dem Fahrweg etliche Steinplatten, so daß ein Fuhrwerk,
besonders bei Nacht, elend steckenbleiben mußte. Alles, was
Wagen hieß, vermied denn auch mit Sorgfalt diese „modernen“
Verkehrsmittel im alten Assyrien und fuhr rechts oder links daran
vorbei, je nachdem die Abhänge der Hohlwege und Wadis
passierbar waren!
Schließlich führte die Straße auf eine flache, steinige Schwelle
hinauf. Von hier aus erblickte ich das gewundene, graubraune Ufer
des Tigris, um das sich ein Haufen grauer Häuser ballte, aus denen
zahlreiche Minarette emporragten. Das war Mosul, und im Norden,
auf dem linken Tigrisufer, die eintönig graubraune Landschaft barg
die Ruinen von Ninive.
 Eingang zum Basar in Mosul.

Zweiundzwanzigstes Kapitel.
Mosul.

D er Dolmetscher des deutschen Konsulats in Mosul war uns

entgegengeritten und geleitete uns zu den Häusern der
Bagdadbahn am äußersten Südende der Stadt, Gebäuden im
üblichen Stil, mit viereckigen, gepflasterten Höfen und kleinen
Gruppen buschiger Maulbeer- und Olivenbäume. Hier sollte unsere
Wohnung sein. Ich erhielt ein treffliches Zimmer im Erdgeschoß, das
sogar mit einem Sofa, einem Tisch, etlichen Stühlen und einer
Badewanne möbliert war; mein Schlafgemach war der Hof, in den
nur wenige Stunden am Tage die Sonne hineinschaute. Einige
meiner deutschen Freunde bereiteten sich ihre Lagerstätte auf dem
höchsten Dache, das von einer ziemlich hohen Mauer umgeben war,
ein Zeichen, daß ein Araber das Haus gebaut hatte, der seine
Frauen profanen Blicken entziehen wollte. Auf der Mauer nisteten
mehrere Störche, deren Geklapper in den Höfen besonders laut
widerhallte, wenn die zahlreichen Katzen der Stadt über Dächer und
Höfe jagten oder ihre nächtlichen Konzerte veranstalteten.

Ein Storchennest auf unserm Dach.

Nachdem wir uns mit Hilfe unseres Gepäcks ein wenig
eingerichtet hatten, war unser erster Gang zum deutschen Konsulat,
einem von prächtigen Gärten umgebenen Komplex von mehreren
stattlichen Gebäuden im Süden der Stadt, etwas entfernt vom Tigris.
Der deutsche Konsul, Dr. Holstein, nahm uns mit gewinnender
Liebenswürdigkeit auf, und sein Haus wurde für uns fast ein
Klublokal, in dessen Räumen man immer Freunde oder Bekannte zu
treffen sicher war. Außer uns — dem Herzog, Rittmeister Schölvinck,
Leutnant Busse und mir — verkehrten dort Major Köppen, Leutnant
Staudinger, Stabsarzt Schwarz, der deutsche Konsul Wustrow aus
Teheran und der österreichische Konsul Dr. Jarolymek, der auf der
Etappenstation in Mosul tätig war. Solange des Herzogs eigene
Küche noch nicht imstande war, mußten wir auch zum Mittag- und
Abendessen Dr. Holsteins unbegrenzte Gastfreundschaft in
Anspruch nehmen, und am Abend versammelten wir uns regelmäßig
auf einer der schattigen Dachterrassen, um die neuesten
Telegramme zu hören oder die Zeitungen zu lesen, die nach einer
Reise von mehreren Wochen angelangt waren. Vom Dach des
Konsulats, auf dem an gewaltigem Mast die deutsche Reichsflagge
wehte, hatte man eine weite Aussicht auf die grauen Häuser und
gewundenen Straßen der halbmondförmigen Stadt, den berühmten
Damm, die unfruchtbare Öde der Steppe und des persischen
Grenzgebirges und auf das englische Gefangenenlager am
Tigrisufer mit seinem Wirrwarr von Zelten und seinem Gewimmel
von Menschen und Tieren. Schon 8600 Gefangene hatten bisher
dort unten gelagert; auch der irische Priester, den ich in Bagdad und
Samarra getroffen hatte, kam während meines Aufenthalts in Mosul
hier durch.
Am 11. Juni, dem ersten Pfingstfeiertag, begleitete mich Dr.
Jarolymek auf einer Rundfahrt durch Mosul. Wir fuhren nach
Nordwesten die Stadtmauer entlang bis Bab-el-beith, dem Eiertor;
eine alte Inschrift über dem Torbogen erklärt den Namen: sie erzählt
von einer ehemaligen Hungersnot, bei der man für einen Para
(etwas über 40 Pfennig) nur 40 Eier erhalten habe! Jetzt kostete ein
Ei 6–7 Para, also einen Taler, ohne daß eine Hungersnot herrschte.
Die Stadtmauer ist etwa 300 Jahre alt und mit einigen runden
Türmen besetzt. Die übrigen Tore heißen Bab-el-dschedid, Bab-
Sindschar, Bab-Ligisch und Bab-el-Tob; letzteres und Bab-Sindschar
sind jetzt zerstört.
Vom Eiertor folgten wir der grauen Mauer nach Norden und
bogen dann nach Nordwesten ab, sahen eine Schule, die jetzt
Krankenhaus war, das Städtische Lazarett und das Judenviertel,
dessen Bewohner sich hauptsächlich durch Herstellung von
Silberschmuck ihren Lebensunterhalt erwerben, ließen das
englische Konsulat, das jetzt von der türkischen Regierung mit
Beschlag belegt war, links liegen und hatten nun die alte
Seldschukenburg vor uns, die sich auf steiler Klippe hoch über dem
rechten Tigrisufer erhebt.
Der Blick von dort oben gehört ohne Zweifel zu den
merkwürdigsten, die sich auf Erden dem Auge bieten. Von Schönheit
der Landschaft kann man dabei nicht eben sprechen. Das Tal des
Satledsch durch den Himalaja, die Grusinische Heerstraße über den
Kaukasus, die Ufer des Brahmaputra von den Abhängen des
Transhimalaja aus gesehen — welche Fülle von Schönheit bieten
sie gegenüber dem dürftigen Strande des Tigris! Und Aleppo,
Damaskus und Jerusalem nehmen sich, von oben gesehen, weit
stolzer aus als dies kleine, unbedeutende Mosul. Aber in einer
Beziehung übertrifft die Aussicht von der alten Seldschukenburg
doch alle übrigen, denn im Mittelpunkt dieser Landschaft liegt Ninive,
die älteste Königsstadt der Erde. Im Osten reicht der Blick bis zu den
Bergen von Rowandus und im Norden bis zum armenischen Taurus,
über dessen Kamm bei klarem Wetter schneebedeckte Gipfel
stehen.
 Die Seldschukenburg aus der Nähe.
Rechts der Tigris.
Gerade unterhalb der Burg macht der Tigris eine Wendung und
verschwindet im Nordwesten, von wo er kommt, und im Südosten,
auf dem Wege nach Bagdad, in blauer Ferne. Er ist aber hier in
Mosul viel weniger imposant als in der Stadt der Kalifen, wo seine
Wassermenge, trotz der starken Verdunstung auf dieser Strecke, viel
bedeutender erscheint infolge des Zuflusses des Kleinen und
Großen Zab, des Zabatus Minor und des Zabatus Major.
 Unten am Ufer saßen Hunderte von Frauen und spülten und
klopften ihre Wäsche. So sitzen sie dort jahraus, jahrein in
brennender Sommersonne und in der Winterkälte, die hier viel
stärker sein soll als in Bagdad, denn Mosul liegt 250 Meter über dem
Meeresspiegel, Bagdad nur 50. Die Sommertemperatur ist aber in
beiden Städten ungefähr die gleiche.
Oberhalb der Fähre wurde eine Herde schwarzer Büffel über den
Strom getrieben. Das Bad gefiel ihnen offenbar, denn sie
schwammen langsam und ließen sich ein gutes Stück nach der
Brücke hinabtreiben, bis sie, vom Wasser glänzend und tropfend,
das jenseitige Ufer erreichten.
Südlich der Seldschukenburg hielten wir bei der kleinen
Grabmoschee Jahija Abu Kasim, deren schöne, mit Fayence
bekleidete Vorderseite in ihrer Wirkung beeinträchtigt wird durch ein
später gebautes, vorstehendes Marmorportal. Gleich dem Grabe der
Sobeïd in Bagdad hat dieses Mausoleum statt einer Kuppel ein
spitzes, pyramidenförmiges Dach, das für andere Grabdenkmäler
dieser Gegend vorbildlich gewesen ist.
Nahe dabei stehen dicht am Ufer die Ruinen offenbar einer
ehemaligen Moschee namens Bedretdin Sultan Lulu, wo man dicht
am Ufer zahlreiche Fische im Strom beobachten kann. Von drüben
hört man das Wimmern der Wasserräder, die schmale Streifen
Ackerland bewässern, und ab und zu kommen merkwürdige
Fahrzeuge durch die Brücke geschwommen; sie sehen wie
losgerissene Inseln aus, und in ihrer Mitte sitzen ein paar Leute wie
Eier in einer Schüssel Spinat; es sind kleine Kelleks, deren Holzrost,
von aufgeblasenen Ziegenfellen getragen, oben mit Reisig und
Zweigen bedeckt ist.
Nach dieser ersten orientierenden Rundfahrt durchwanderte ich
nun Tag für Tag die Straßen Mosuls, die denen von Bagdad an
malerischem Reiz weit nachstehen, denn der herrliche Schmuck der
Palmen fehlt hier ganz; überhaupt sieht man in der Stadt kaum eine
Spur von Grün. Dafür sind aber die Häuser Mosuls stattlicher und
viel fester gebaut, nicht aus schlecht gebrannten Ziegeln, sondern
aus Stein, der Jahrhunderte überdauert. Der Stil ist derselbe wie in
Bagdad, die Architektur aber reicher und vornehmer. Von der engen,
schmutzigen Gasse führt ein unansehnliches Tor mit einem
Eisenklöppel oder -ring durch einen Gang auf den viereckigen,
gepflasterten Hof, wo ein kleines Wasserbecken einige Kühle und
bestenfalls niedrige Maulbeer- und Orangenbäumchen etwas
Schatten verbreiten. Sofas und Stühle zeigen, daß hier tagsüber der
Wohnraum der Familie ist. Das Erdgeschoß des Hauses enthält
Küche, Vorratskammern, Holzschuppen, Ställe und
Dienstbotenwohnungen. Der nach dem Hof offene Empfangsraum
(Eivan oder Ivan) ist wie in Bagdad zu ebener Erde oder auch eine
halbe Treppe hoch, mit Eingang von der ersten Galerie. Die
Privatgemächer, Schlafräume usw., liegen eine Treppe höher.
Darüber ist das flache Dach, auf dem man die heißen
Sommernächte zubringt.
 Stickende Araberin in Mosul.

Die Front der Häuser ist nicht nach der Straße, sondern nach
dem Hof hinaus, denn der Orientale verbirgt sein Familienleben
eifersüchtig vor der Außenwelt. Das gilt auch für christliche, syrische
und chaldäische Häuser. In diese erhält man leicht Zutritt, die
weiblichen Angehörigen gehen unverschleiert und beteiligen sich an
der Unterhaltung mit dem Gast. Aber man muß schon ein sehr guter
Freund des Hauses sein, wenn selbst die christlichen Frauen in
Gegenwart eines Europäers ihre angeborene Scheu überwinden
sollen. Die Hoffront vornehmer Häuser zeigt reichen Marmor- oder
Alabasterschmuck, hauptsächlich an den Seitenflügeln, denn den
Rücken des Vorderhauses, durch das man eintritt, bilden die
schattigen, von Steinsäulen getragenen Pferdeställe. Die eigentliche
Hauptfront gegenüber ist zum größten Teil von Galerien bedeckt,
und die vergitterten Bogenfenster darunter lassen wenig Raum zu
ornamentalem Schmuck. Dieser beschränkt sich daher auf das
untere Mauerwerk, während die Wände der Seitenflügel bis zum
Dach hinauf mit Blumengewinden und Blattwerk in Relief verziert
sind. Auch die höchsten Fenster haben zum Schutz gegen
Einbrecher dicke Gitter; die Eisenstangen sind an ihren
Kreuzungspunkten noch durch Ringe gesichert. Gegen die Sonne
schützen Holzläden, wie man sie auch in Konstantinopel findet.

Vier Musikanten vor der Treppe, die vom Hof zum Empfangsraum hinaufführt.
 Die mit Marmorreliefs geschmückte Hoffront eines vornehmen Hauses in Mosul.
Mosul zählt viele solcher vornehmen Häuser, deren Besitzer
armenischer, syrischer oder chaldäischer Abstammung,
Mohammedaner oder Christen, Kaufleute oder Priester sind. Es
besitzt eine starke kaufmännische Aristokratie, deren Ansehen weit
über das Weichbild der Stadt hinausreicht. Solch ein Hof mit seinem
kostbaren Marmorschmuck zeugt von erworbenem oder ererbtem
Reichtum, der sich im Takt mit den lautlosen Schritten der Kamele
auf den weiten Wanderungen der Karawanen vermehrt, wenn nicht
die Wüstenschiffe durch Zyklone Schiffbruch leiden oder arabische
Piraten mit den Ballen Baumwolle, gepreßter Datteln, bunter Stoffe,
Kolonialwaren und europäischen Krams in der Tiefe der Wüste
verschwinden. Auch der Handel Mosuls war durch den Krieg fast
völlig lahmgelegt. Aus Indien und Basra kam gar nichts; die
persischen und kaukasischen Handelsstraßen waren gesperrt, und
die Anatolische Eisenbahn fast ausschließlich mit Militärtransporten
belegt. Doch wartete man mit echt orientalischer, fatalistischer Ruhe
der kommenden besseren Zeiten.
Hadschi Mansur, 65jähriger Chaldäer.
 Straße in Mosul.
Solch ein schattiger Hof wirkt gegenüber den backstubenheißen
Straßen wie eine Oase in der Wüste. Hin und wieder besprengt ein
Sakka das Steinpflaster mit Wasser. Nur eines vermißt man: nie
dringt ein Luftzug hier hinein; nur wenn Stürme über das Land
ziehen, stürzen die Wirbelwinde wie Wasserfälle von den Dächern
herab auf das Laub der Maulbeerbäume. Im übrigen aber entspricht
ja diese Bauart, wie schon im alten Assyrien und Babylonien,
vollkommen dem durch das Klima bedingten Bedürfnis. Unsere
europäischen Häuser mit ihren nach Luft und Licht verlangenden