Children view finger-puppet video

LAKE ATITLÁN — Strange sounding words filled the air as dozens of Mayan children ran and played in the street and among the nearby coffee fields. The day’s showing of Viña’s Spanish-language finger-puppet video, “José el Soñador,” would prove interesting. In all the talking and shouting, I heard nothing remotely resembling Spanish.

Asociacion Viña, a recording ministry formerly part of Wycliffe Bible Translators, produced the childrens’ “Deditos” (finger puppet) video, telling the Bible story of Joseph. Viña plans to dub its six Spanish-language videos into Guatemala’s indigenous Mayan languages, an arduous, complicated task requiring much prayer. So far there has been little field testing to see how local Mayans will receive the "Deditos" videos. Despite the potential language barrier, we hoped last week’s showing would provide clues.

Greg and Brenda, a Canadian couple on a short-term mission in Santiago Atitlán, made contact with the school and the pastor of the tiny Tzutujil church, arranging for the video’s premier. Once we managed to darken the church — draping tarps from the roof to cover the church’s wide front entry — children crowded inside. They were excited to see a movie, all 146 of them.

The children watched attentively for about 10 minutes of the half-hour video before getting restless. Some may have had lunch duties, but others just seemed antsy, noisily lifting the crinkly tarp and going in and out. By the end, we finished with about 25 fewer children.

Afterward, my friend retold the Bible story in Spanish, while a Tzutujil teacher translated. Apparently some children had difficulty even with basic questions he asked them in Spanish.

The children's proficiency in Spanish certainly varies, improving as they get older, learning in school. Spanish is Guatemala's national language, used in education, government and media. Tzutujil educational materials don’t exist, the pastor and teachers said. When asked how well the children understood the video, a teacher agreed it would have been easier to understand in their mother tongue.

After they were dismissed, my friend opened a box containing a black electronic device about the size of an AM/FM radio. Two school teachers and a handful of nearby boys became curious, craning their necks and moving closer to hear better. A cascade of fluent, glottalized Tzutujil emanated from the device.

A boy of about 5 years tried to look under it to see who was speaking his language. It came from a so-called “Proclaimer,” produced by the Albuquerque, N.M.-based group, “Faith Comes By Hearing.” Inside, a digital computer chip is embedded with the entire New Testament, read by native indigenous speakers — in this case Tzutujil Mayans — and recorded by Asociación Viña. Two alternate power sources recharge the radio’s batteries: a low-tech hand crank and a flip-up solar panel.

Smiles broke out on the faces of the teachers, one Catholic, the other evangelical. This could be very useful, they said, noting it would likely increase their congregations’ understanding of God’s word.

The church pastor, who reads his Tzutujil and Spanish Bibles with equal facility, said he must pause, if he’s reading from Spanish, to explain in Tzutujil the meaning of what he just read. Even pastors in Santiago Atitlán at the 3,000- to 5,000-member megachurch, Elim, preach primarily in their native Tzutujil tongue in at least two of their three Sunday services.

Jesus often said, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.” How much better to hear in one’s own language?