Archive for Chinese

English names

I have found this curious list of English names meanings when they are written in other languages:

Adam (Arabic) skin

Alan (Indonesian) comedian

Alf (Arabic) thousand, millennium

Anna (Arabic) moans and groans

Calista (Portuguese) chiropodist

Camilla (Spanish) stretcher

Cilla (Zarma, Nigeria) basket

Doris (Bajan, Barbados) police van

Eliza (Basque) church

Eve (Rapa Nui, Easter Island) buttocks

Fay (Zarma, Nigeria) divorce

Fred (Swedish, Danish and Norwegian) peace

Jim (Korean) baggage

Kim (Ainu, Japan) mountain

Kylie (Dharug, Australia) boomerang

Laura (Greek) groups of monks’ huts

Luke (Chinese) traveller

Marianna (Italian) accomplice who tells a gambler the cards held by other players

Sara (Hausa, Nigeria) snakebite

Sid (Arabic) plaster

Susan (Thai) cemetery

Vera (Italian) wedding ring

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An avuncular solution

The Western ideal of monogamous husband and wife is not universal.

There is, for example, no word for father in Mosuo (China). The nearest translation for a male parental figure is axia. An axia has a series of night-time trysts with a woman, after which he returns home to his mother.

Any children resulting from these liaisons are raised in the woman’s household. There are no fathers, husbands or marriages in Mosuo society. Brothers take care of their sisters’ children and act as their fathers. Brothers and sisters live together all their lives in their mothers’ homes.

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Egotists

Sweet-talking others is one thing; massaging your own ego can be another altogether:

 

Echarse flores: (Spanish) to blow your own trumpet (literally, to throw flowers to yourself) 

Il ne se mouche pas du pied: (French) he has airs above his station (literally, he doesn’t wipe his nose with his foot) 

Yi luan tou shi: (Chinese) courting disaster by immoderately overestimating one’s own strength (literally, to throw an egg against a rock) 

Tirer la couverture a soi: (French) to take the lion’s share, all the credit (literally, to pull the blanket towards oneself)

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Tip to toe

Parts of the body have long been used to define small distances, the foot in the imperial system of measuring, for example. The Zarma people of Western Africa find the arm much more useful: Kambe kar is the length of the arm from the elbow to the tip of the middle finger and gande is the distance between two outstretched arms.

Elsewhere we find:

 
Dos (Hmong, China) from the thumb tip to the middle-finger tip

Muku (Hawaiian) from the fingers of one hand to the elbow of the opposite arm when it is extended

Sejengkal (Malay) the span between the tips of the stretched thumb and little finger

Dangkal (Kapampangan, Philippines) between thumb and forefinger

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Alphabetti spaghetti desu ne!

While studying Japanese at university, I was looking forward not only to learning my first non-European language (having studied French, German, Latin & Greek at school and university), but also making a stab at an entirely new alphabet (or as our sensei told us to call it, writing system). It was only after our first lesson that I became a little more apprehensive, when I learnt that they employ three separate writing systems simultaneously.

First of all there are two phonetic writing systems: hiragana, which is used to ’spell out’ Japanese words in short phonetic units (for example, sensei (せんせい), meaning ‘teacher’, consists of four hiraganas: se (せ), n (ん), se (せ) & i (い).

The other phonetic system follows the same rules as hiragana, but is used to spell out ‘loan words’ (Japanese words borrowed from English or other languages) or to emphasise Japanese words (for example, in signs outside shops and bars). This writing system is called katakana, and while it follows the same pattern of phonetic sounds, the characters look different, consisting more of straight lines when compared with the more curvaceous hiragana. For example, the Japanese word for ‘icon’ is the same word, but transliterated into the more limited Japanese phonemes to match the sound of the original term as closely as possible - in this case, aikon (アイコン).

These two writing systems were manageable for a gaijin (’foreigner’) such as myself: regular practice reading and writing the characters and recognition exercises coupled with my own enthusiasm helped me become fairly proficient in both writing systems in only a couple of weeks, but it was the third writing system that bamboozled me - kanji.

Kanji are characters of Chinese origin, first imported to Japanese shores by articles from China. These characters are far more complex and intricate than the kana systems, many requiring upwards of 20 individual strokes to draw, and are used primarily for nouns, adjective stems and verb stems, replacing what would otherwise be phonetic characters. Most kanji have several different ‘readings’, which can subtly alter their meaning, as well as usually completely changing the way you say them. The main drawback when learning kanji, however, is that you don’t know how to pronounce them unless you either have the furigana form of the character, or have been briefed in advance of the different readings. To add insult to injury, there are over 50,000 kanji in existence; although only around 2,000 are in daily use.

While the Chinese students in my class had very little difficulty recognising the root meanings of many kanjis, as well as being able to write them with amazing speed and accuracy, every facet of every kanji exercise was a huge challenge for somebody with my background, trained purely on Roman and Greek alphabets with very little talent for drawing complex shapes.

For those starting out in Japanese reading and writing, the only advice I can offer for unlocking the mysteries of kanji would be the same advice given to me by my sensei - gambatte!

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