Showing posts with label language. Show all posts
Showing posts with label language. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 28, 2026

Rambling word nerd thoughts and reflections on language



“I didn’t want to live in a world where I’d shrug and say yom asset yom bassal and no one would know I meant one day honey, one day onions. I didn’t want to cook and never be told ashteedek (long live your hands). I wanted to be able to ask, ash lonek (how are you? - but literally, joyfully what colour are you?) I don’t believe that flattening us all down into sameness is the way to keep the world beautiful or even alive.”

Samantha Ellis from Chopping Onions on My Heart. 


I too as someone who loves to cook would adore being told “long live your hands” but that music will never play in my ears. And I’m orange by the way. 


The language above is Judeo-Iraqi Arabic but the beautiful imagery of of the literal translations reminded me of the many times I have discussed idiomatic expressions with speakers of other languages. The conversation takes a turn where each individual tries to find an expression in their native language that the other languages don’t have an equivalent for. Invariably they do not find one but the same ideas are expressed so very differently. 


The first such conversation was with Xiang Xia in Dali China, back in the 1990s. We started with the expression fair weather friends, which she had read in a novel and couldn’t fathom, as I recall. Since I was also learning Chinese at the time, I then demanded to know the Chinese equivalent.   酒肉朋友, (jiǔròu-péngyou) which is literally wine and meat friends. From this point we discovered so many more and marveled at how often the references drew on different associations in the English and Chinese versions.  Associations and symbolism drifted between the weather, hospitality, sports, history and traditions.  Rhyming patterns and rhythm were also variants. We never drew any conclusions or published. 



Years later in a bookstore in Hiroshima I found an illustrated book about Japanese idioms, in which each idiom was presented with its English counterpart on the opposite page. Of course I had to buy it though, I have no idea where my copy would be now. Possibly at the Oxfam Secondhand Bookstore in Adelaide, but I doubt that.


They ended up receiving over ten cartons of our books when we decided that we weren’t adding them, to an all too recently acquired storage unit in preparation for our departure to teach in Thailand. 


Recently I spotted a Khmer-English version of this kind of publication and thought to buy it for a friend, with the language skills to appreciate it but I resisted the urge. Possessions can often become burdens especially when you are leaving. Oops I digress. 



Another linguistic quirk of Japan I observed while living there is the assumption about the origins of foreign words embedded in their language. One of the three alphabets that are all used concurrently, consists of only foreign words. In a Japanese person’s mind that often equates to English. For that exact reason people would say certain single words to us slowly and clearly expecting us to understand. The origin of those words may have been French, Portuguese or German but  the expectation was it was English because so many of them are. Often we did not comprehend their meaning but I developed an interest in discovering which language the word had come from. 


Similar language fascinations seem to pop up everywhere. 



Having just started writing this we slipped out to post some snail mail- yep that’s another interest of  mine: returning to hand written, personalized, slow communication. The wait, expectation and revelation being lost in digital versions. I’ve been on that bandwagon for some time. But yet again I digress. 



We happened upon an exhibition entitled “Of Words.” Though it proved somewhat tedious translating the narrative to English via a digital app, as all the information was presented in Khmer and French only, the irony was not lost on me. Here I was relying on the very technology I so often malign. One of the many fascinating facts that came to light was that almost all the loan words in the Khmer language are French in origin and there was resistance to this trend, when they first fell into common usage. The succinct French version almost always prevailed over the more long winded Khmer creations which relied heavily on descriptions. Stands to reason really, having historically been a protectorate and so many Khmer being able to communicate in French already that that would be the language source and efficiency would prevail, I suppose. 



The book quoted above introduced so many new linguistic concepts and vocabulary to me, that I feel I must at least comment on the vocabulary I’d never encountered before. These words were nevertheless totally self explanatory upon reflection. It obviously appealed to the word nerd in me so I thought I’d conclude with a few examples. 


What children hear is not necessarily the language they first speak, especially if it is not the one, in which they engage with the exterior world. If a language different from their parents’ native one prevails and is used at home by children and parents together, the one their parents speak to each other is only the parents’ mother tongue not their children’s. The term mother tongue then in fact becomes confusing. The children absorb and speak only fragments of that language but understand so much more. Milk language is the more accurate term applied to the child’s use of the parental language. Fascinating to me at least. 



There is also grief attached to knowing that that language is becoming extinct and you may never hear it spoken again, even if you speak only a broken form of it yourself. Many migrants, displaced people and refugees have this experience. This concept was at the heart of the book. 


Predator languages was also new to me. This brutal term includes English, Arabic, Russian and Hebrew and doubtless many more. These languages take over and native languages are lost. Historically certain ethic groups have been prevented from freely speaking their mother tongues or even punished for doing so and furthermore, for those who speak only those ethnic languages or for whom they are their native language, higher education and countless other social and economic opportunities are lost or even deliberately denied, in order to enslave them in some regimes. Bully languages is a term which carries the very same meaning and has much more impact in my mind. 


Globally thousands of languages have already become extinct. 



Very many, developed, English speaking nations, in addition to  Israel, China and Russia (and without a doubt many others I am unaware of) stand accused of repeatedly and persistently suppressing minority languages in this way and this is referred to as lingucide. However, who is actually paying attention to these brutal and alienating practices? It bothers me how complacent we have become as societies and how we are becoming ever more homogeneous.  


These are lived experiences for millions of First Nation and ethic minorities globally and identity is intimately tied to language. Native Americans, indigenous Australians, Tibetans  and Uighurs and countless Middle Eastern ethnic groups are among them. First nations people are a disproportionally large group who have suffered this loss of language. 


Monday, May 11, 2026

WORDSMITH OR WAFFLE?



I have a funny relationship with words. I’ve earned my living from them, never learned to spell confidently, drawn several trillion million through my eyes into thoughtful pondering but don’t seem to express myself with them eloquently, despite application, effort and editing. Yet I remain unfailingly committed to continuing to do so. Even the humble letter is a medium I willingly embrace. The curiosity and fascination stubbornly persists. To what end? 


Some words just sound in your head like bells tinkling, or waves whispering, resonate too loud or always cause a hesitation and a catching of my breath because I know it takes an effort to pronounce them correctly and it often takes me two attempts with some. 



Names especially, even very unfamiliar ones, like Marek, Tariq, and Kiki tinkle while Esme, Seth and Bess sigh. But not just names words like succinct, bamboozled, apoplexy or even onomatopoeia have a musical quality of their own. 



Volume and resonance is the problem with some. They speak too loud and persist against resistance. The vocabulary of human shields, insitutionalized, deforestation, extrajudicial killings, inured, abducted, restitution and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. They are voluminous, demanding even provocative. They spread commentary and only occasionally optimistically build hope. 


Words like proselytise, oxymoron, hyperbole and Arkansas fit the pronunciation dilemma category for me at least. Like many others I have mispronounced them and been corrected. I have also learnt that having acquired them from reading not listening it is neither a fault nor an embarrassment. 


Others must be revisited, memorized, recited in times of need, recorded for the peace of mind they bring, the clarity of thought they induce, the insistent call for action they demand, the sentimental memories they recall or philosophical ponderings they inspire. 



Just recently I was reading an article about how reframing language can limit and scandalously alter thought patterns. If you can’t name something you can’t conceptualise it. If it is consistently renamed the original meaning fades and shifts. The changes in meaning and nuance that occur when language is sabotaged are long lasting. 



Deliberate alterations made due to politically correctness (sexual assault not rape), pressure to conform to a narrow socially acceptable standard (happy holidays not ……) and direct renaming to shift values, opinions and perspectives (propaganda becomes publicity and lies transforms to fake news) forever modify the framework of communication and society. Language is actually insidiously adjusting the very way we think, perceive the world and conceptualise abstractions. The changes are reducing our capacity to interact, empathise and connect.



Currently AI impacts all aspects of our lives and it is growing exponentially. At this point writing on any digital device in particular, is more difficult. Spellcheck and grammar  suggestions are no longer the norm with predictive text taking over. It doesn’t think like anyone of us. It’s the average of all of us!! What an idea. Do we want to be averaged into some kind of common factor of sameness for convenience? Aren’t a wider range of opinions, perspectives and thought processes more conducive to a harmonious, prosperous and diverse society?


In fact, it isn’t predicting but rephrasing and misconstruing at best, and dictating at worst. Even editing one’s own writing, which is a necessity for me, takes longer as it keeps not suggesting alternatives but actually replacing my vocabulary and expression and undermining my creativity. Thereby diluting or transforming my meaning not clarifying it. The language we are being restricted to is a Newspeak and as Orwell attempted to warn us, it is taking over silently and perniciously. 



As languages disappear and many are, whole societies and communities lose their identity and the rich lexicon of the languages they use, with nuances and cultural connectivity, evaporates. Much of this stripping of the diversity of languages still spoken is engineered by regimes suppressing minorities to produce a uniform mass and invading and absorbing formally neighbouring countries. Language, like food and clothing, housing, structural systems contributes greatly to the identity of people and their capacity to relate to both the inner and outer world. This is a form of suppression becoming ever more apparent.


To end on a bit more of a positive note, I might say that reading obsessively is the only antidote I have so far discovered to reassure myself that literature still has the magical quality of transporting, informing and inspiring and that many exceptional modern authors are rising through the ranks to join the masters of previous times. Communication, connection and startling awe are still possible, if we choose to focus on literature not just the news, academia and social media. 




In the words of Peter O'Toole as Reginald Johnston in the film The Last Emperor, "If you cannot say what you mean, Your Majesty, you will never mean what you say and a gentleman should always mean what he says." Gentle women too I propose. 


Don’t even get me started on handwriting, the aesthetic beauty of alphabets and non-alphabetic scripts ….