Words vs meaning

I recently read an article in The Economist newspaper about Brazilians and the way they use Portuguese.

http://www.economist.com/blogs/johnson/2013/05/brazilians?fb_ref=activity

The writer suggested that when a Brazilian says sim a foreigner would probably think it meant ‘yes’, because that is what it says in the dictionary, but in fact it might also mean ‘maybe’ or even ‘no’. Talvez seems to mean ‘perhaps’ but probably means ‘no’. And Vou aparacer mais tarde doesn’t actually mean ‘I’ll be coming later’ but ‘I won’t be coming at all’.

There were a lot of comments especially from Brazilians. Some readers thought this was negative stereotyping; some gave reasons for saying one thing but meaning another (e.g. to be kind). But most of the Brazilians seemed to agree that they did use this kind of indirect language, but it didn't matter because at least they knew what it meant.

This reminded me of two things. Firstly, of when I invited some Japanese friends and some Brazilian friends to a dinner party many years ago. I asked all of them to come “about 7.30”. The Japanese arrived at 7.15 - when I was still in the shower and hadn’t finished cooking. For the rest of the evening we waited and waited for the Brazilians. They finally turned up at 9.45, just as the Japanese were leaving, and they didn’t think they were late at all.

Secondly,the article also reminded me about, ‘crosstalk’, which I wrote about in this blog quite a while ago. Crosstalk is when people think they understand each other because they understand the words and grammar that are used, but actually fail to grasp the meaning behind the words. This can happen within a culture and between people who speak the same language, but of course it is more likely to happen across cultures and between people who have different first languages.

Anyway, just for fun I wondered what kinds of misunderstandings might occur when people from English-speaking countries visit Asia, or when Asians from one country visit another Asian country. This is not so serious, and you may not agree, but please send any suggestions. I have only referred to three or four languages so perhaps you have some examples in other Asian languages.

I thought of three categories: (1) Things that probably don’t mean what you think they mean; (2) Things that seem similar but are probably different; and (3) Things that seem different but are probably the same.


THINGS THAT PROBABLY DON’T MEAN WHAT YOU THINK THEY MEAN

私にはもったいないです (Japanese)

This looks like "You are too good for me" but it probably means "I am too good for you" and is often said when turning down an invitation of marriage.

はい (Japanese)

This sometimes means "Yes" but sometimes "No' and often "I have no idea but do carry on talking."

日本語御上手ですね (Japanese)

While this seems to mean "You are good at Japanese" it probably means either (1) "Wow! You can say ‘thank you’ in Japanese: that’s amazing for a foreigner!" or (2) "Hmm, your Japanese is not bad for a foreigner. What is wrong with you?!"

没有 (Chinese)

This seems to mean "We don’t have any/ we’ve sold out" but can also mean "I’m too busy/tired/ hungry to serve you." Actually it nearly always used to have the second meaning, especially when you could see the thing you wanted right on the counter, but in the new capitalist China it is not used so often.




THINGS THAT SEEM SIMILAR BUT ARE PROBABLY DIFFERENT

On da way lah! (Malay/Manglish)

This does indeed look very much like "I’m on the way" but is more likely to mean "I have just got home and am going to have a shower. Later I will set out for your the house but I will probably be stuck in traffic for hours.

途中だよ (Japanese)

This also looks like "I’m on the way" but in Japan is more likely to mean "I have already arrived and I am standing outside your door right now."

Pasti sudah siap esok petang (Malay)

This could be translated as "It will definitely be ready by tomorrow afternoon" but really means "I have no idea when it will be ready – perhaps you could call me next month?"

約束できませんが明々後日までに努力します (Japanese)

In Japan this would be said by a service provider very apologetically and suggests "If we are really lucky it just might be ready in four days". What it means is "It will be ready tomorrow morning."

Waa, u pandai cakap Melayu (Malay)

Don't be fooled into thinking this means "You are really good at Malay." It actually means "I don’t really know why you foreigners try speaking Malay when we all speak English but I guess you spent a lot of time in Indonesia."

Pintar bicara Bahasa Indonesia, Pak! (Indonesian)

This ought to mean more or less the same as the previous phrase for Malay but means "It’s really nice that you are trying to speak Indonesian but I’m afraid you sound like a Malay."


THINGS THAT SEEM DIFFERENT BUT ARE PROBABLY DIFFERENT THE SAME

Pergi kemana? (Indonesian = Where are you going?)

お出かけですか (Japanese = Are you going out?)

你出去啊 (Chinese = You’re going out!)

你回来了 (Chinese = You’ve come back!)

下班了吗 (Chinese = You’re home again!)

吃饭了吗 (Chinese = Have you eaten?)

跑步啊 (Chinese = So you are out jogging then!)

All these and many other phrases around Asia have a single meaning: Hello!


Highlighting the indirectness of speech in Asian languages can, of course, lead to the impression that English speakers always say exactly what they mean. Some Asian students are even taught to be as direct as possible when speaking English. But this would be misleading. When an American says 'I could care less!' they always mean 'I couldn't care less'. When an Aussie says 'Well that's a lot of use to me!' they are very likely to mean the opposite. And when a Brit says 'How do you do?' it simply means Hello. It's not an invitation to start telling them about your holiday or your health or your problems at work.

Small country, many languages

When East Timor (Timor Leste/Timor Lorosae) became the first new country of this century in 2002, language was hardly at the top of its list of problems. 500 years of colonial occupation but little economic development by Portugal, followed by 24 years of oppressive rule by neighbouring Indonesia, had left the country poor, divided and isolated. Worse, when the Indonesians withdrew in 1999, their army and its supporters destroyed most of the infrastructure and killed or kidnapped thousands of people. Although finally independent, the Timorese had little choice but to turn to foreigners for help, and various UN-related organisations are to be seen everywhere dominating educational, economic and social policy. Slowly, this country on the southeast edge of Asia is getting back on its feet. But language problems are occupying more and more of the government's time.



With a population of only a million or so, Timor Leste has at least 26 local languages. One of them, Tetun Prasa, is understood quite widely, but it has never been used much for education, business, government or law. Portuguese was the main language of education for the people who fought against the Indonesians and now control the government. But less than 15% of the population understand it, and Timor is far from from other Portuguese-speaking countries such as Brazil, Mozambique, and Portugal. Indonesian is more easily learnt and remains widely understood not only because of the occupation but also because many teachers continue to train in Indonesia. But many government officials are reluctant to promote the language of their former enemies. And then there is English. Australia, only 90 minutes away by plane, is the most active country in the UN bodies helping to rebuild the country. Other UN and NGO workers mostly use English when they consult each other. And increasing numbers of Timorese are interested in learning the language so they can study or work overseas.



Timor's 2002 Constitution makes both Tetun and Portuguese official languages while giving a role to Indonesian and English as working languages. But can a small, poor country afford to support four languages? And what about the 25 other local languages? As in many poor countries, most people take a very pragmatic view, learning whatever language they think can best get them an education and a job, and often speaking several of them very well. Meanwhile the government is allowing Tetun to be used in the legal system and making efforts to modernise the language. Thousands of technical terms have been borrowed from Portuguese, and some from English and Indonesian. But this makes the language even more difficult for people far from the main towns to understand.

The other imperialists

English is a relative latecomer among the languages brought to Asia by European imperialists. Long before the British or Americans had any bases on the continent, Portuguese traders were active from the Middle East to Japan. By the 17th century their language had become a lingua franca for many Southeast Asian seamen. Portuguese words adopted by Asian languages include almariya (cupboard) and iskolaya (school) in Sinhala, jendela (window) and meja (table)) in Indonesian, and pan (bread) and tabako (tobacco) in Japanese. Some people believe arigato comes from obrigado.

Despite the long colonial influence, however – Macau was the first European colony in Asia (1557) and also the last, returning to Chinese control in 1999 – how many Asians today speak Portuguese? While it continues to be an official language of Macau and remains important in the legal system, Cantonese is far more widely spoken, with 93.4% using it as a first or additional language. Many people in Sri Lanka have Portuguese names, but very few can speak what was once a lingua franca there.

We see a similar situation with other European languages. The Philippines were a Spanish colony for 350 years and both Tagalog and Philippines English are full of loanwords such as fiesta and presidente; yet a mere 2,658 of the 93 million Filipinos use Spanish as a first language. The Dutch, who controlled the East Indies for 400 years, brought numerous everyday words such as hantuk (towel) and kamar (room) to the Indonesian language. We also find many Dutch words in Malay and Sinhala. But very few Indonesians, Malays or Sri Lankans speak the language.

In all the above countries, English is now much more important than European languages that preceded them. Even in Macau, which was never a British colony, over 12% of Macanese claim to speak English, compared to only 2.7% using Portuguese as a first or additional language there. The fate of Portuguese, Spanish and Dutch in Asia seems to suggest that colonisation is not the main reason for the spread of languages. Military alliances and access to jobs and global trade may be more important.

In recent years, some Asian countries have re-emphasised their links with former European occupiers. In August 2007, for example, Philippine President Arroyo announced that Spanish would be reinstated as an official language. But it will be trade with Spain and Latin America rather than government policy that determines whether the language increases in importance.

There was some surprise when Timor Leste chose Portuguese as an official language when it gained independence from Indonesia in 2002. Most of its 220 million speakers are in far-away Europe, Africa and South America, and few Timorese know the language as well as Indonesian or the local lingua franca, Tetum. However, Timor had been a Portuguese colony for 500 years before being invaded by Indonesia, and Portuguese had symbolic importance for groups resisting Indonesian rule. Tetum was considered too underdeveloped to be used exclusively for education and law, and Indonesian is too closely associated with the military occupation. So Portuguese and Tetum were made co-official languages. This complex situation has created a growing unofficial role for English, which many locals hope will help them get jobs with Australian and other international NGOs operating in the country.



In recent decades France has gained a reputation for resisting the global spread of English, promoting French language and culture through L’organisation internationale de la Francophonie, which now has 55 member states. It might therefore be expected that French would have fared better than Portuguese, Spanish and Dutch in former Asian colonies. But it is probably only in Lebanon, in the far west of the continent, that French is as important as English. Although neighbouring Syria was under French rule for as long as Lebanon, it has been less exposed to international business. Few Syrians know any language other than Arabic, but those who do are more likely to speak English than French.

We find similar stories in the region once ruled by France as Indochine. As late as the 1970s most private schools in Laos, and the one public lycée (secondary school) in Vientiane, taught in French, but Lao seems largely to have displaced the language in the public sector and English in the private.


The first wave of Vietnamese escaping communism tended to know French and headed for Paris, but subsequent groups were more interested in the United States and English. In Cambodia, French – and even Russian and Vietnamese – were more important than English until the 1990s, but in recent years Phnom Penh has seen protests by university students against compulsory French classes.

English in Asian languages

Many Asian languages contain a lot of words that originated in English. We can learn something about social and technological trends from the kinds of words that are most commonly borrowed. We can also learn something about Asian languages by looking at how the pronunciation, form and meaning of the words change.

Borrowing words often happens when a new technology or practice is introduced from overseas. For example, many Asian languages have a word similar to 'taxi', such as taiksi in Urdu, teksi in Malay and diksi in Cantonese. Despite pronunciation changes, such words are obvious to English speakers. Others can be more puzzling. Sri Lankans gamble at 'bucket shops' rather than betting shops. In Korea, your sekeund is your 'second wife' or lover. In Japan a koin randorii is not a place to wash your coins but a launderette or laundromat. And the manshon so many Japanese live in nowadays are, sadly, just simple apartments.

Two thirds of new words published in Japanese dictionaries each year come from other languages, 90% of these from English. According to a newspaper survey, over 80% of Japanese are confused by these loanwords (gairaigo in Japanese). Even English-speakers get confused because meaning and pronunciation may depart widely from the original. I used to think a pusshuhon must be some kind of phone that you can push around (it means a push-button telephone) and that sumaato was smart (it means 'slim'). And it took me a long time to work out that a korukushikuru is something you open bottles of wine with.

There is now help for Japanese people who are confused about loanwords. The National Institute for the Japanese Language has a website

http://www.kokken.go.jp/public/gairaigo/index.html

and a telephone hotline (03 3900 3111) that explain the meaning of words like baachuaru (virtual) and bariyaa furii (barrier-free). It also suggests alternatives made up of Japanese words (most of them written in characters borrowed from Chinese). For 'safety net', for example, they suggest anzenmou (安全網).

Korean is also full of loanwords. Interestingly, many of these resemble Japanese ones in the way that their form and meaning vary from the original English. Both languages turn 'ballpoint pen' into ball pen, for example, use talent to mean a media personality, and call a steering wheel a handle. One reason may be that a lot of English vocabulary entered Korea while it was under Japanese occupation.

Indonesian has borrowed a lot of words because it is a relatively young language, based on an older variety of Malay. When English nouns are borrowed, they more or less retain the sound and meaning of the original. But when verbs and adjectives are borrowed, they are often changed to fit Indonesian grammar and morphology. Thus 'to control' is mengkontrol or mengontrol. You might be able to work out that melobi comes from 'to lobby' (although Indonesians use it more to mean 'discuss'). And recently on Indonesian radio, someone was heard complaining about politicians who just menothingkan (do nothing).