The value of carrots

In recent weeks my students have been learning about the concept of linguistic value (from Ferdinand de Saussure). The differences in value between terms in different languages can have very humorous effects, as I have found on numerous occasions.

I’m currently in the Netherlands on a family visit. Last night we had dinner with my husband’s old school friends, and one of them was telling me (in English) about some dental treatment he had had recently, including some ‘carrot treatment’.

Carrot treatment?

Image from here.

The English word ‘carrot’ is translated by the Dutch word ‘wortel'. But ‘wortel' also means ‘root’ more generally. I found that out a while ago when I was reading a news report or something that mentioned trees being ‘ontworteld’ in a storm. Recognising ‘wortel’ from ‘carrot’ (the first of its meanings that I learnt), I thought ‘upcarroted’? But my husband explained that ‘wortel’ means both ‘root’ generally and ‘carrot’ specifically. The trees were actually ‘uprooted’, then.

So it turned out my husband’s friend had had root canal therapy. In Dutch, as in English, the word for ‘root’ also refers to the roots of teeth, not just plants. It is also used in mathematics (square root, etc) and to refer to the background of something ('my roots are in Scotland'), as in English .

I drew a diagram representing the difference in ‘value’ between the terms in the two languages.

The large rectangle represents semantic space. In Dutch, ‘wortel’ takes up the same semantic space that in English is occupied by two terms, ‘root’ and ‘carrot’. Thus the term ‘wortel’ doesn’t have the same value in Dutch as either ‘root’ or ‘carrot’ in English, although we can say they occupy some of the same semantic space.

The semantics of tragedy

The events of the last 24 hours, with Malaysian Airlines flight MH17 falling from the sky having been shot by a missile over the Ukraine, has raised again the semantic distinction between ‘accident’ and ‘crime’. One tweeter called it a ‘crime against humanity’ because of the ‘tens of AIDS researchers’ killed. Many tweets made reference to ‘the MH17 accident’, while others wanted to steer clear of that nomenclature:

JCH999: Has flight #MH17 been classified an accident now? All media are saying it "crashed" yet I'm pretty sure it was SHOT DOWN. BIG DIFFERENCE!

KJBar: PM on #MH17: 'This is not an accident. This is a crime. It was shot down. It did not crash.' http://tinyurl.com/pnemnfg v @abcnews

   shadowb0lt: Calling #MH17 an "accident" is a bad joke. This is nothing less than an abominable act of war.

sh1bumi: #MH17 recorded talks between Seperatists and Russian Gov: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BbyZYgSXdyw … Shooting was an accident

MarkTregonning: Where is #Abbott's evidence this is not an accident? That Russian-backed forces did it? He may be right-but evidence shld be given.

danielrhamilton: #MH17's crash is looking more like a crime than an accident. If so; what a wicked and evil act. The perpetrators must be found. #Ukraine

A ‘crime’ is “an action or omission which constitutes an offence and is punishable by law” (Oxford). An ‘accident’ is “an unfortunate incident that happens unexpectedly or unintentionally, typically resulting in damage or injury” or “an event that happens by chance or that is without apparent or deliberate cause” (Oxford). These definitions do not rule out an overlap between accident and crime, as the first definition of ‘accident’ could constitute a crime if it is something punishable by law.

Australian PM Tony Abbott was reported as saying adamantly that the MH17 incident was no accident (at least by the second definition above). Rather, he said, “it was shot down. It did not crash. It was downed, and it was downed over territory controlled by Russian-backed rebels. It was downed by a missile which seems to have been launched by Russian-backed rebels.”

Here, apart from in the second sentence, Abbott consistently uses verbs that express processes of deliberate action that require a ‘doer’ (Agent) - to shoot, to ‘down’. Only in the last clause does he specify the Agent: a missile.

A missile does not have its own volition. It must be operated by a human being. But Abbott is careful not to be too categorical about who the human being(s) might have been. He mentions them only as part of the description of the missile (which missile? one that seems to have been launched by Russian-backed rebels). And he chooses ‘seems to have been launched’ instead of ‘was launched’ to allow for the fact that the details of the incident are still quite hazy. He presents it as a suggestion or speculation rather than an assertion.

The potential human agents, ‘Russian-backed rebels’, are in turn identified by political affiliation (Russian-backed) and orientation to the law (rebels), rather than by any other feature or characteristic. This is perhaps not surprising as the perpetrators have not been specifically identified. But it is interesting that the action is construed politically, rather than morally. For example, Abbott could have chosen to say ‘a missile which seems to have been launched by irresponsible or careless or murderous individuals’.

Abbott’s construal of the event is as a non-accidental tragedy. An accident would not involve the sense of human volition or the use of processes that imply deliberate action. It may have been accidental in the sense that the perpetrators didn’t mean to shoot a commercial passenger plane, but the action of shooting itself was presumably not accidental. 

But as another tweeter pointed out, the labelling of a significant incident such as this as accident or not often depends largely on political agendas:

dellcam: U.S. agenda dictates response:

* #MH17: Not an accident.

* 4 kids children on #GazaBeach: A terrible accident.

My heart is grieved by this tragic loss of many lives, and I pray that God will bring comfort and peace to the families and friends of those who died and somehow turn this terrible situation to good. But let us not lose sight of other tragic losses of life, whether ‘accidental’ or not, that occur every day in other parts of the world where people don’t have the means, opportunity or ability to get on an aeroplane and go somewhere else.

Carving up the world

We have now been in Italy for just over a month, having moved here for my husband to take up a research position for one year. I have slowly been picking up some Italian (hoping to pick up more, more quickly!) as I go to the local market most days and interact with the market stall holders. The market stall holders know me now and try to help me learn new words. The other day it was interesting to learn from the butcher that the word for 'thick' in Italian is the same as the word for 'tall' (alta/o). I think it's also the word for 'deep’.

It's interesting because the concepts of height and thickness are differentiated in English but not in Italian. That aspect of our experience of space is divided up differently in the two languages. This is a concept I was trying to teach my students recently - the concept of linguistic relativity and how different languages make sense of experience in different ways.

In English we want to make a distinction between the concept of height (how far something stands vertically above the ground, as with a person or a building), thickness (similar to tall-ness but it doesn't have to be vertical; perhaps better described as how far between the two opposing edges of something, as with a sponge or a coat), and depth (how far something extends down towards its lowest point, as with the ocean or a baking tin). You can see how they are all quite similar concepts. But there is a subtlety that we can discern if we think about why we use three different words to refer to them rather than one.

So now I know to ask for 'taller/deeper/thicker' pork chops rather than 'bigger' ones.

A picture's worth a thousand words?

Recently I saw the film 'The Book Thief', based on the book by Australian author Markus Zusak. Perhaps you saw it too. I enjoyed it despite the grim moments, and especially loved the wonderful characters and warm, quirky humour. But I had read the book, and there was something missing - as there often is when the book becomes a film.

When I read the book, I was struck by the many fascinating turns of phrase, the way words seemed to have been carefully chosen to stop you in your tracks as you were reading so that you would pay attention to the description and let it sit with you.

Here's an extract from the first chapter:

Of course, an introduction.

            A beginning.

Where are my manners?

I could introduce myself properly, but it’s not really necessary. You will know me well enough and soon enough, depending on a diverse range of variables. It suffices to say that at some point in time, I will be standing over you, as genially as possible. Your soul will be in my arms. A color will be perched on my shoulder. I will carry you gently away.

At that moment, you will be lying there (I rarely find people standing up). You will be caked in your own body. There might be a discovery; a scream will dribble down the air. The only sound I’ll hear after that will be my own breathing, and the sound of the smell, of my footsteps. (p.4)

The sections in bold are what I'm talking about - words put together (the technical terms is 'collocations') that are quite unusual, often because the verb typically calls for a particular kind of noun to be the 'do-er' or the 'done-to', but the noun chosen is of a different kind that would not normally be considered a good fit. It's not enough just to put a noun with a verb - under normal circumstances, you have to choose the right kind of noun with particular semantic properties in order for it to work well with the verb. But in literature, the writer can exploit and subvert these conventions in order to make very particular or vivid meanings.

'A color [excuse the American spelling] will be perched on my shoulder.' 'To perch' is a particular kind of verb that generally calls for a very tangible thing to do the perching - for example, a bird is the thing you would usually expect to find perched on someone's shoulder. Sometimes a building is said to be perched on a cliff top or other precarious position. But a 'colour' - that is certainly not a tangible thing. Colour is an abstract quality. So we can differentiate between two categories of nouns - concrete and abstract. Some verbs need a concrete noun, whereas others can take either abstract or concrete.

I'm still not sure what it means for the narrator (spoiler alert: the narrator is 'Death') to say that a colour will be perched on his shoulder. Perhaps Zusak means for us to be confused there - after all, we can't yet know what it will be like when we die. Or perhaps he's trying to make 'colour' more tangible here by its association with the verb 'to perch'.

A similar thing is happening with 'a scream will dribble down the air'. With the verb 'to dribble', we expect the thing that dribbles to be concrete, and more specifically, something liquidy. You can see now how specific the requirements of the verb can be in terms of what kinds of nouns are 'allowed' to hang around with it. But 'a scream'? - it's neither liquid nor concrete.

Likewise, the phrase 'down the air' subverts our expectations. We expect that if something dribbles, it will dribble down a tangible surface, such as a wall or window. But 'the air' is not a surface and so the whole clause jars you as you read. As I ponder it, I get a very vivid image of the way the sound of the scream might make an initial impact and then gradually die away, leaving some kind of mental or emotional trace, as liquid dribbling down a surface leaves a trace.

I expect it would be very difficult, no matter how good the screenplay, to capture in film the meanings made by these unusual collocations. There are lots of these examples in the book where abstract things are collocated with verbs that usually require concrete things, and the thing about abstract things is that they are abstract. That is, they are harder to convey in the visual medium of film, without using the original wording somehow in spoken or written language as part of the film. A picture may be worth a thousand words; but where the words precede the picture, there may be no picture worthy of the words.  

References

Zusak, M. (2008) The Book Thief. Sydney: Picador/Pan Macmillan.

What's with 'God bless you'?

The other day my husband asked me why people say 'God bless you'. Isn't 'bless' the form you would use for first person ('I bless you') or second person ('you bless me') only? Why isn't it 'God blesses you'? I explained it to him and he suggested I write a blog post about it, in case others wondered the same thing.

It turns out many others have wondered the same thing, as you can see on this Wiki Answers post, this one on English Forums, or this one on English Language and Usage Stack Exchange.

Image from 'Fields of Cake' blog

'(May) God bless you' is a bit like (or belongs to the same paradigm as)

God save the Queen (not saves)

Long live the king (not lives)

Heaven help us (not helps)

God be praised (not is praised)

So be it (not is)

Truth be told (not is told)

If I were you (not was or am)

The fancy technical name for this kind of construction is 'subjunctive mood'. It's a particular form of the verb, although in English it nearly always looks exactly like the 'normal' indicative form. That's why we don't really recognise it when we see it and why it looks or sounds a bit weird if you think about it.

It's different in meaning from the indicative because it expresses a degree of doubt or wishfulness, or something of a hypothetical nature.

Here are the paradigms for indicative and subjunctive, to compare the differences:

Indicative:

I save

you save

he saves

We save

you(se) save

they save

Note that the only one that is different is 'he saves' (third person singular form)

Subjunctive:

I save

You save

He save

We save

You(se) save

They save

Now the verb form is the same across the paradigm, and it's only the third person singular form that is different from the indicative. You can of course read the Wikipedia explanation of subjunctive mood for more information on this. But that's the general gist of it.

Reflections of a language nerd

It's been a while since I formally learnt another language. In fact it was 11 years ago that I studied Latin in my third year of university. Opto, optas, optat, optamus, optatis, optant, and all that.

Now I'm studying Greek - the Greek used in the New Testament - as part of a theological degree. I wasn't sure how I'd go learning Greek, after all I'm 10 years older than I was last time I had to study language and do tests and exams. I've learnt bits of other languages since then (Dutch, Swahili, Luganda) but only piecemeal and through immersion, which is a different kind of learning.

So I've been pleasantly surprised that it's all coming back to me - learning paradigms and vocabulary, and translating sentences that don't always seem to make much sense. Thankfully, many of the grammatical concepts I learnt in Latin (such as noun declensions, noun cases and verb paradigms) carry over into Greek, so I didn't have to start cold as some of my classmates did. Of course, being a linguist doesn't hurt either! Now that we are learning more vocab and more structures, the sentences we have to translate start to be more meaningful and some are even recognisable as particular verses from the Bible.

My understanding of Greek, which is so far limited but growing, is also opening up to me new perspectives on translation of the Bible. I'm very thankful for the hundreds, if not thousands, of years of scholarship on biblical Greek and the careful translation work that has been done over past centuries to give us very good and meaningful translations of the Bible in English as well as many other languages.

The translations we have in English are really very transparent, with any uncertainties or ambiguities footnoted in most versions. So there need be no concern about the reliability of the translation. It is not to be taken for granted that we have the word of God, the Author of Life itself, in a form ordinary people can read and understand for themselves. This is especially so when there are still hundreds of languages around the world that have no translation of the Bible yet. Maybe something I can help with in the future...

Is there such thing as Ugandan English? #3: Semantics

Over the last two weeks I've been blogging some observations about the English spoken in Uganda, organised according to linguistic strata: first phonology, then lexicogrammar. This week I'm up to semantics - the systems of meaning that operate for speakers of a given language.

The main semantic difference I've noticed is really quite closely linked with wording and grammar (lexicogrammar), as it's to do with the way Ugandans perform the speech function of 'command'. For the non-linguists, I first need to briefly explain some things about this concept of 'speech functions' and how they are expressed in wording and grammar. There are basically four speech functions: statement (giving information), question (demanding information), offer (giving goods & services), and command (demanding goods & services). These are meanings which are expressed grammatically in particular ways. The prototypical matches are as follows:

• statement is typically expressed through declarative mood (Subject comes before Finite verb), e.g. The waitress brought some water for washing hands.
• question is typically expressed through interrogative mood (inversion of Subject and Finite verb), e.g. Did the waitress bring some water for washing hands?
• [offer does not have a particular match from among the three mood types]
• command is typically expressed through imperative mood (imperative form of verb, typically with no Subject or Finite), e.g. 'Bring some water for washing hands!'

But these prototypical match-ups do not always have to be used, and a different mood type can be chosen to express a speech function depending on the politeness required or other contextual factors. In Australian English, for example, it's very common to use declarative or interrogative mood to express a command, e.g. 'I need some water to wash my hands' or 'Could you please bring some water for washing hands?'. If you went into a restaurant in Sydney and said 'Bring me a menu!' (because you probably wouldn't ask for water to wash your hands), the staff member would probably take you for a very rude person and not treat you very well.

In Australian English imperative mood tends to be used to express commands in relationships of legitimate authority (e.g. owners to pets, parents to children, teacher to student, government official to citizen especially in written communication) or intimacy (family member or close friend). In the Australian context, the service relationship between a restaurant patron and a staff member is not one of 'legitimate authority'. In another context the restaurant patron might find him/herself serving the restaurant staff member.

It seems that in Ugandan English, imperative mood is used much more widely for expressing commands, without necessarily carrying the implication that the speaker is either in legitimate authority over, or in an intimate relationship with, the addressee. So you could say 'Bring a menu' or 'Bring some water for washing hands' or 'Pack these leftovers for me' or 'Bring the bill' in a restaurant and it would not be considered out of place.

On a lighter semantic note, I've enjoyed the fact that, in linguistics classes I've been to here, mangoes figure very prominently in examples constructed to illustrate a point, e.g. 'The boy bought a mango'. The mango is culturally much more salient here than in Australia - and cheaper too!

Is there such thing as Ugandan English? #2: Lexicogrammar

Last week I wrote about some of the phonological features of Ugandan English as I have observed it over the past 6 weeks or so. This week I've put together some of the lexicogrammatical features that differ from other varieties of English (particularly Australian English, of which I'm a native speaker).

What appears to be a different meaning of the expression 'relieve yourself'...

Lexicogrammatical features include words, morphemes (parts of words that have meaning of their own), and grammar. Most of what I have picked up on are either words that are used in a different sense from their use in Australian English or expressions that are not generally used in Australian English (e.g. 'we pray from such and such a church'). Some of these could probably be dealt with at the level of semantics but I thought it would be more straightforward to treat them as lexical (word) differences.

• 'airtime' - phone credit, which you can buy in various denominations from numerous small stands around the streets, or from machines in supermarkets, or even from people wandering around selling it through taxi-bus windows in the taxi park!
• 'balance' - meaning 'change', e.g. when buying something at a restaurant or market stall and you don't have the exact money, the staff member will say something like 'I'll get you balance'.
• 'benching' [see earlier post]
• 'bouncing' - opposite of 'benching', in which you go to visit someone and they are not home so you have to leave immediately.
• 'born-agains' [see earlier post]
• 'bury' - to attend the funeral of someone, e.g. 'I'm going back to the village to bury my father'. It doesn't mean they will literally carry out the burial, but will attend the burial/funeral ceremony.
• 'by the way' - doesn't seem to be used in the same way as in AusE, but possibly closer to 'in fact' or 'actually'. I don't have a clear example I can remember, but something like the following. Person A: I learnt yesterday that in Luganda you say 'osiibyo tyeno nyabo/sebo' to mean 'hello'. Person B: By the way, we say 'osiibyo tyeno nyabo/sebo' but if it's in the morning, like before 12 noon, you say 'wasuzo tyeno nyabo/sebo' and then after noon you can say 'osiibyo tyeno nyabo/sebo'. In AusE you usually use 'by the way' to talk about something not related to what was previously said.
• 'dear' [see earlier post]
• 'done' [see earlier post]
• 'eh' - high-pitched vocal noise expressing surprise or indignance, especially when recounting some situation that brought this response about. It can also be used with a lower pitch as a checking move when explaining something to someone, e.g. when applying for a bank account, 'You fill in this one, eh?, and then he fills in, eh?' (a bit like some uses of 'ok', 'right', 'yeah' in Australian English)
• etc [see earlier post]
• 'for me' - common at the beginning of an utterance in which someone will either express their opinion or share something about what they have done or decided
• 'ka' is a diminutive prefix in Luganda (& other Bantu lx?) and has been imported into Ugandan English with the same function, e.g. ka-bag (small bag), ka-man (small/insignificant man). Instance in conversation: (a local commenting on a picture of a kangaroo and the fact that it has a pouch) 'Isn't God wonderful, how he made the kangaroo with small legs at the top and bigger legs at the bottom and a little ka-bag here for the baby'. I recently heard it in very high frequency when we went out for a walk and dinner with some friends. For example, our friend was on the phone giving directions to another friend for how to find us: 'We're in the ka-place as you come in the drive way, near the Checkers Supermarket'.
• 'pick' [see earlier post]
• 'picking up' is used, but seems to be only used to mean 'increasing' e.g. 'community radio is picking up in East Africa'
• 'pray from…' [see earlier post]. One local I spoke to about this suggested that it's because in the local languages they don't have an equivalent for 'we go to [such and such a place habitually]'
• rolex - cooked egg rolled up in a chapati (also an item and name that originated at Makerere, apparently)
• 'sorry' [see earlier post] - also has different intonation from Australian English - a long fall from high tone, a bit like when someone says 'sorry' and they don't want to say it but they know they have to (reluctant apology).
• 'thank you too' [see earlier post]. Lately I have realised that it probably comes as a translation of the Luganda 'kale' which is used in response to the word for thank you, 'webalenyo', as well as many other greetings and fixed expressions, and seems to mean something like 'you too' or 'likewise'.
• 'what' [see earlier post]. I have also noticed it more recently in everyday conversation; it's very pervasive, and seems to be used also to mean 'whatever', 'blah blah blah', 'this and that', and 'and so on'. For example, you might hear something like this: "I had to go to the market and then the pharmacy and what and what'.
• 'where do you stay/sleep?' [see earlier post]
• 'You are welcome' [see earlier post]
• 'you people' meaning 'you plural', e.g. when arranging to open a bank account, the bank staff member said something like 'you people wanted to be able to convert into US dollars…'. And when some kids were trying to sell us stuff when we were in a parked car waiting for our friend to come and drive, she came back and said 'do you people want to buy something?' Definitely more acceptable than the hotly contested 'youse' in some varieties of Australian English!

Is there such thing as Ugandan English?

Recently I spoke to a postgrad student here who is interested in the question of whether the English spoken in Uganda should be called 'Ugandan English' or not. Is it a dialect of English? My observation so far, after 6 weeks in Kampala, is that the English spoken here has some systematic differences from other Englishes at pretty much every linguistic level - phonology, wording and grammar, and semantics. So I'd say it's a specific dialect (although I'd be interested to see how it differs from the English spoken in neighbouring Kenya and Tanzania). I have been posting some of my observations of local expressions over the past few weeks (here and here) and thought I'd start to organise them a bit more. I'll start with phonology this time (using as much common-sense language as possible, and no phonetic symbols, for the benefit of non-linguists reading this).

Vowels: The phonological (sound) systems of the Bantu languages spoken in Uganda have only 5 vowels, and a couple of diphthongs, which means that the 20+ vowels in English are usually reduced to these five when speaking English. Vowels such as the 'a' in 'hat' and the 'ur' in 'hurt' do not occur in Luganda (for example) and so they are both approximated to the vowel 'a' as in 'hut'. So the words 'hat', 'hut', 'hurt' and 'heart' all sound much the same (as 'hut'), although sometimes there is a longer vowel in 'heart' and 'hurt' than 'hat' and 'hut'. Likewise the vowels in 'sin' and 'seen' are pronounced the same, as in 'sin'. Also, the 'schwa' vowel that is used in unstressed syllables in English (like the 'a' in 'again' or the 'e' in 'written') is not used, so all vowels are given their full value (again as 'egen', written as 'writ-ehn'). This also affects the rhythm of speech, as there are not as many unstressed syllables.

Consonants: I have only noticed a couple of things so far. One is the 'k' sound, when in combination with 'i' or 'y' sounds, is pronounced as 'ch', e.g. 'particular' is often pronounced as 'particular' (rather than 'partikyular'). I think this is because in some of the local languages, e.g. Luganda and Runyakitara, 'k' is always pronounced 'ch' before 'i' or 'y'. The name 'Runyakitara', for example, is pronounced 'Runyachitara'. It seems that not all varieties of the languages do this, as I've also heard 'Runyakitara'. Another is the sounds 'l' and 'r'. I haven't quite worked out the status of these sounds in the local languages, but I think it's a bit like in Japanese, where the two sounds are not recognised as different sounds but the same 'sound unit' (phoneme) that is pronounced a bit differently depending on the other sounds around it. As with many other world languages, Luganda and other Bantu languages do not have the 'th' sounds as in English 'thin' and 'this', so I think they are usually replaced with 's' for the sound in 'thin' and 'd' for the sound in 'this'.

Intonation: I'm no expert on intonation so it's hard to describe the difference, but I know it's different!

Rhythm: As mentioned above, because the 'schwa' vowel is not used, the rhythm of English spoken here is a bit different. It's not quite the even syllabic rhythm of French (as heard in this cute video), but it's also not quite the 'dum-di-dum' rhythm of British, American (as heard in this amusing video), or Australian (etc) English.

Postcard from Uganda: More local expressions

Since my last 'postcard' about language, I have begun to learn some words in Luganda and learnt some more local English expressions.

• "sorry" - used in the same way as Australian English (to apologise for something you've done), but also to express sympathy for something that clearly has nothing to do with you. For example, I was telling a Ugandan friend that we had discovered a decomposing rat in our apartment, and she said "Oh, sorry!". I have heard it many times since in similar kinds of situations - e.g. when telling someone I'd had food poisoning or had hurt myself getting into a bus. It sounds strange to my ears because in Australian English, in those kinds of situations people are more likely to say something like "Oh no, you poor thing!" or "Oh, that's terrible!" or "How awful!" You may hear "I'm sorry to hear that" in AE, but it's more likely to come in response to more serious bad news such as a death or chronic illness or relationship breakdown or loss of a job.
• "we pray from…" - instead of saying 'we go to such-and-such church', most of the people I've met say 'we pray from such-and-such church'. So now instead of asking "which church do you go to?" I try to remember to ask "where do you pray from?". I'm intrigued as to how this phrase came about, though, as Christians know we can pray anywhere and God will hear us. Maybe I'll find out one of these days.
• "benching" - this is a genuinely Kampalan term, and in fact it originated at Makerere University where we are living and working! Apparently it stems back to the days when there were just two residential halls, one for women and one for men. The one for women, Mary Stewart Hall, had some benches placed around the foyer and the young men used to go and sit there on the benches waiting for the object of their desire to come walking through so they could talk to them or take them out. They could sit there for hours, and so the expression 'He's benching' came about to describe this activity. Now the meaning of the term has apparently broadened. One meaning is when someone you know comes to your place and hangs around and it's hard to get rid of them - "they're benching". Another meaning is when someone is trying to get to know someone of the opposite sex and tries to spend as much time around them as possible - "he/she's benching". Apparently there are other Makerere terms that have become widely used, but I have yet to find out what they are.
• "where do you stay/sleep?" - if someone wants to find out where you live, they ask "where do you stay?" or "where do you sleep?". I've even had someone asking me "are you sleeping around?", which means "are you staying somewhere around here?", not the meaning Australian (and probably American and British) English speakers would understand from it! However, if someone says "he/she's sleeping around", it means they are away for a few days, e.g. out of town on business or visiting a friend or relative in another place. A Ugandan friend told us that this expression had caused a lot of concern to her British-English-speaking friend who was looking for her in Kampala and was told "oh, she's sleeping around" because she was out of town!
• what not to ask: as in many places, it's very rude to ask a woman's age. For men, the question of age is nowhere near as rude as asking how many cows he has (which would be like asking someone how much he earns or how much he has in assets).

Semiotic Resources of Kampala Boda-Boda Drivers

There are literally thousands of boda-bodas in Kampala. Boda-bodas are essentially public transport by motorbike. There is apparently no system of licensing or accreditation for someone to start charging a fee for members of the public to hop on the back of his (I haven't yet seen any female boda-boda drivers) motorbike to get to their destination. Anyone who owns a motorbike and needs a bit of extra cash can do it, it seems. They also operate as couriers for goods, not just passengers: on Saturday I saw a huge pile of mattresses, at least 2m high, being carried on the back of one! Some people even move house by boda, we are told.

Boda-bodas have a reputation, even among the locals, for being reckless drivers. We have seen them cross the median strip and drive on the wrong side of the road if there is a traffic jam. We have also seen them driving every which way around roundabouts. This is with a passenger (or two) on the back, who of course has no control over how or where the driver drives the motorbike on the way to the destination!

Despite all this, they are very widely used, even by local friends we think are relatively cautious, and are the fastest way to get around, especially in the traffic-clogged roads. A local friend of ours studying at the university, who has a very nice car, says if he's running late for class he leaves his car at home and jumps on a boda-boda. Yesterday some expats working locally told us some American friends of theirs who had a seriously sick child put the child and her mother on the back of a boda-boda to get the to a reliable medical centre as fast as possible, as the international hospital where they initially went had not the facilities or staff to attend to the child as quickly as her condition required.

There are always at least a dozen boda-bodas hanging around the entrance of the university (this is known as a boda-boda 'stage') and I pass them daily when I go to buy food for dinner (our fridge doesn't work too well, hence the daily excursions). So over the past 2 and a bit weeks I have observed a range of semiotic resources that the boda-boda drivers use to attract customers.

• the wave: if the boda-boda driver sees you coming from a distance, he raises his hand as high as he can (perhaps to elevate himself above the other drivers around him) and waves at you to come.
• the shout: as you come closer, the driver shouts 'mam! mam!' I don't yet know what they shout if you're a male.
• the beep: if you are walking along the road, and a boda-boda is driving along the road nearby without a passenger, he'll beep at you to let you know there's a ride available if you want one.

One good thing about boda-bodas is that they know the city very well and are good people to ask for directions!

Postcard from Uganda: language

Greetings from Kampala, Uganda! We arrived about 10 days ago to work as visiting scholars at Makerere University, and there have been many interesting things to observe in this initial time, including some language points.

I have noticed the following systematic uses in Ugandan English that are different from Australian English, which may well be a feature of other Englishes elsewhere:

• 'pick' - instead of 'pick up', e.g. 'I called the number you gave, but no one picked, so can you call me back on Monday?' and 'I'll come and pick you around 2.30pm'.
• 'thank you too' - in response to a 'thank you', as an adjacency pair, e.g. in the supermarket when I thank the checkout person they often say this, as opposed to just 'thank you'.
• 'born-agains' - used to differentiate Christians who have been spiritually born again from 'nominal' Christians. For example, our apartment attendant asked 'are you people born-agains?' and another friend introduced us to someone else saying 'these people are born again, too'. In Australia asking 'are you people Christians' would probably get the answer she was looking for because people are less likely to identify as Christians unless they are actually believers. But a larger proportion of Ugandans would identify as Christians (statistically about 84%!), at least nominally, so the word 'Christian' doesn't have quite the same value here. It's almost the default. Hence 'born-again' is a useful alternative.
• 'done' - meaning finished, e.g. waiters/waitresses might ask 'are you done', rather than 'have you finished?' This usage also occurs in American English I think. But there is another usage, when a waiter/waitress might say 'the chicken is done', meaning there is no more. I think this meaning is less common in American English, as the expression would normally mean 'it is cooked and ready'.
• 'You are welcome' - as an elaborated form of the simple 'welcome', which is more common in Australian English. I have heard this from a wide range of people: new colleagues at the university, students, supermarket attendants (especially the friendly guys at the meat counter at the nearby supermarket), waiters/waitresses,  and people at the church we visited. I find it rather endearing and somehow more sincere than just 'welcome'.
• 'dear' - seems to be used as a generic term to address someone who might be a peer (rather than specifically as a term of endearment), e.g. the young woman who sat next to me in church on Sunday wrote me a note on her bulletin that said 'My dear, I would liked to speak to you after the service', and a colleague replied to a line in an email I sent with 'thank you dear'.
• 'what': in a number of teaching contexts (church sermon, Bible study group, introductory linguistics lecture), I have heard the teachers/leaders using a construction in which they use 'what' in a sentence to prompt the hearers to supply the word they are about to say (at least internally). An example (loosely based on a lecture I attended this morning) would be something like 'Morphology is the study of the internal structure of words. We say that words have one or more morphemes, which are the smallest meaningful units of words. For example the word 'students' has two meaningful units: 'student' and 's'. So we say it has two - what? - morphemes.' The construction has a particular prosodic and intonational pattern - there is a slight pause before the 'what' and and a slight rising intonation on 'what' followed by falling intonation on the rest of the clause (which is usually just one key word or phrase that the teacher wants to emphasise).
• etc: On a number of occasions I've heard teachers (and some others not in a teaching role) use 'etc' to indicate that they are providing an incomplete list. But instead of saying 'etcetera', they say 'e. t. c', i.e. spelling out the abbreviation.

Hopefully I will discover more as we go along!

The power of words

"Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me". From childhood we are encouraged to dismiss the power of words to affect us. But how much power can words really have?

As a linguist, I'm a big fan of words and how they fit together to allow us to make meaning. I think there is a great deal of power in words and language, for good or ill. Indeed, there are some sub-fields of Linguistics - I'm thinking of Critical Discourse Analysis and Positive Discourse Analysis - that have sprung up with the aim of deconstructing, respectively, discourse that embodies "ideologically driven discrimination, with respect to gender, ethnicity, class and related social variables" (Martin 2006) and discourse that "functions to make the world a better place" (Martin 2006). The very existence of these trends of linguistic application assumes that language has the power to harm or improve society, and perhaps even individual lives.


I was thinking about this because the 'mid year conference' at UNSW, where I'm doing some ministry work with staff and postgrad students, is on the topic of 'Beyond Words', focusing on what happens when Christians read the Bible:

4000 years ago, Moses encountered God on Mt Sinai. It was beyond words. The storm raged, the lightning struck and the fire and smoke poured out of heaven. Today, Christians read a slightly beaten up paperback book over breakfast and claim to be meeting God. 

Aren't we missing something? Why doesn't God speak directly to me? Should I expect a still small voice or something more? 

 You can watch one of the video ads for the conference on Youtube - it highlights the fact that many forms of everyday language can have a significant impact on our lives. It also prompts us to wonder why Christians don't often register the same kind of impact when we read the Bible, which we believe to be the words of the Living God!


The Bible tells me that I should love it and delight in it (Psalm 119), store it up in my heart (Psalm 119:11), meditate on it (Psalm 119:148), and even value it above money (Psalm 119:72) and food (Matthew 4:1-4)! God promises that if I read His Word with sincerity and obedience, and with Him working in me by His Spirit, the words of scripture will give me life and blessing (James 1:25), guide my decisions (Psalm 119:105), and turn me from doing things that displease God (Psalm 119:11).


Furthermore, the gospel - the story that Jesus Christ, the Song of God, dies for the sin of the world and was raised again to rule the world - has the power to save those who believe it! "For I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes: first to the Jew, then to the Gentile.” (Romans 1:16). That’s some truly powerful words!


References:
Martin, J. R. (2006). Positive Discourse Analysis: Power, Solidarity and Change, Journal of English Studies, 4(14), 21-35.

The Language of God

I had some days off sick this week, which gave me the opportunity to do a bit of long-awaited leisure reading. So I started reading 'The Language of God' (2006, Free Press), which I found amongst the small collection of books my husband already owned before I moved in with my several extra bookshelves worth!

I was initially attracted by the title, as you can imagine - but it's not really about 'language' of the kind that I study. It's written by Dr Francis Collins, who is the head of the Human Genome Project, and the title is taken from US President Bill Clinton's speech at the official public launch of the findings of the Human Genome Project, the human DNA sequence, in 2000. Clinton said: "Today we are learning the language in which God created life. We are gaining ever more awe for the complexity, the beauty, and the wonder of God's most divine and sacred gift." (see full transcript here).

Collins' aim in the book is to dispel the notion that a rigorous science precludes serious belief in a transcendent God "by arguing that belief in God can be an entirely rational choice, and that the principles of faith are, in fact, complementary with the principles of science" (p.3). As part of this, he gives his own testimony as a scientist with a firm faith in God.

I haven't finished reading it yet (only up to chapter 3) but I have thoroughly enjoyed reading the first two chapters. In the first chapter, Collins shares the story of his interesting childhood, his growing thirst for scientific knowledge, his studies in chemistry and then medicine, and ultimately, sparked by the simple question of a dying woman, his discovery of a God who is there, and who takes a personal interest in human beings.

He also shares some of the trains of thought he went through during this time of discovery, inspired by the writings of C.S. Lewis, another academic who had taken a very similar path from atheism to faith. These included the perplexing fact that "the concept of right and wrong appears to be universal among all the members of the human species" and that "this law appears to apply peculiarly to human beings" (p.23). I was encouraged and excited to read his reflections on the differences between humans and animals on this point, as this is an issue that has been on my mind, as seen in last week's blog post. I was glad to find some support for my ideas from a more knowledgeable source. It's nice to know I might be thinking on the right track!

Humans and animals

I've been saying in other blog posts that humans are created in God's image (Genesis 1:26-27) and are communicative and relational. But we can also observe communication and relationship in some, if not all, animal species. The Genesis account makes it clear that animals are not created in God's image. So what is the difference between the kind of communication and relationships that humans and animals have? What is it about human communication and relationships that is special and particularly reflects our status as God's image-bearers?

I think it's love. When I think about what we see as relationships between animals, they are really utilitarian, rather than characterised by love. Animals enter into relationships with other animals mainly for procreation (only for very few is this an exclusive relationship) and for cooperation related to food sourcing etc. But the procreating kind of relationship is driven by hormones and instinct rather than love. While hormones and instincts are also involved in human relationships, humans are also able to override their hormones and instincts when necessary for the sake of another person. As far as I know, animals do not have the option of exercising self-control for the sake of another. As far as I know, they do not make choices which sacrifice their own desires for the sake of another, to put the other first. To do that would seem to go against the 'survival of the fittest' principle.

Humans' ability to have loving relationships that display conscious, deliberate self-sacrifice seems to me to be a direct reflection of God's relational character. God's deep love is supremely demonstrated in the way God the Father sent his only Son to die as a sacrifice for the sake of those he loved (see John 3:16 and 1 John 4:9-10), and the way God the Son willingly sacrificed himself for the glory and honour of his Father, because he loved his Father and wanted to obey him (see Luke 22:41-42).

I speak, therefore I think, therefore I am?

Recently I became aware of the work of Walker Percy (1916-1990), an American writer who had an interest in human behaviour, in particular the peculiar ability of humans to use language. He wrote a number of novels between the 1961 and 1987, one of which I’ve read – The Thanatos Syndrome (1987), which is an interesting but at times disturbing read – and a few non-fiction ruminations on humankind, language, and the like, including one I am reading now. The one I’m reading now has the rather long and intriguing title: The Message in the Bottle: How Queer Man Is, How Queer Language Is, and What One Has to Do with the Other (1975).

I came across Walker Percy by accident. I had been searching for papers about language and consciousness, and one of the ones that came up was an old (1993) but interesting article in the journal Language and Communication by Laura Mooneyham, who compared and contrasted the ideas of Percy and a psychologist of the same period, Julian Jaynes.

Like much of the biographical information I’ve seen about Percy (e.g. the entry on Wikipedia as a start), Mooneyham draws attention to Percy’s Catholicism, crediting this as a major influence on his ideas about humans and their unique capability for language and higher order consciousness (incorporating self-awareness and the ability to communicate with others through symbols). His search for a metaphysical explanation of events (that is, explaining phenomena from first principles, which include time, substance and existence) is contrasted with Jaynes’ materialistic explanation (that is, explaining phenomena only as the result of interactions of physical matter). Percy's dissatisfaction with such materialistic explanations is nicely captured in a question he poses (one of many presented one after the other over several pages!) in the opening chapter of The Message in the Bottle:

“Why is it that scientists know a good deal about what it is to be an organism in an environment but very little about what it is to be a creature who names things and utters and understands sentences about things?” (1975, p.8).

One of the main ideas discussed in Mooneyham’s paper is the distinction between primary consciousness (which animals have; 'bicamerality' in Jaynes' terms) and higher order consciousness (which humans have), and the notion that humans once had only this primary consciousness. The theory is that higher order consciousness came with the ability for complex, autonomous language (see also Halliday 2004 for a similar argument from systemic functional linguistics).

I was intrigued to learn that both Percy and Jaynes had drawn parallels between the Fall of Man and the shift from primary to higher-order consciousness in humans. The idea here was that for a time, humans were living in such a way that all their responses to external stimuli were dictated by God/gods (according to the various creation/fall narratives). They “could neither reflect upon their past nor future actions nor upon the possible consequences of those actions; therefore, they were without the moral consciousness which makes guilt possible” (Mooneyham, 1993, p.176). But then the ‘Fall’ happened (they tasted ‘the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil’) and there was a shift, and their minds became capable of introspection and seeing how others saw them, so they felt guilt and shame.

 I'm still working out my views on how to read the story of Creation presented in Genesis in light of theories of human development, but there are some principles in the Genesis account, particularly about God's character, that are reiterated throughout the Biblical account and therefore can be trusted regardless of whether one takes the '6 day' narrative literally or figuratively.

One such principle is that humans were created in God’s image (Genesis 1:26-27). So I find it hard to accept this conception of the development of human consciousness because the Bible is consistent on the notion that God Himself has higher-order consciousness and the ability to communicate with others (see also related blog posts I wrote in August and October).

Another such principle is that God is inherently good and can't abide evil. The idea that humans went from being “neither good nor evil” in their state of primary consciousness to capable of both good and evil in their higher-order consciousness denies the pronouncement of God on the 6^th day, when he had created humans, that his creation was ‘very good’. God is good, and would not have been able to make this declaration if humans had not been ‘good’ from the beginning (at least until the Fall), not ‘neutral’ as supposed.

I welcome comments or clarifying questions on any of these thoughts.

References

Halliday, M. A. K. (2004). On Grammar as the Driving Force from Primary to Higher-order Consciousness. In G. Williams & A. Lukin (Eds). The Development of Language: Functional Perspectives on Species and Individuals, pp.15-44. London: Continuum.

Mooneyham, L. (1993). The Origin of Consciousness, Gains and Losses: Walker Percy vs Julian Jaynes. Language & Communication, 13(3), 169-182.

Percy, W. (1975). The Message in the Bottle: How Queer Man Is, How Queer Language Is, and What One Has to Do with the Other. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.