Ivan Au

Deciphering the many facets of English

For better or worse, English has become the most global of languages. With about 330 million native speakers, and possibly another 400 million who learned it later in life, it is the most widely studied, most borrowed from and most important language in the world. More than 40 countries claim English as their native, official or semi-official tongue, and it is the language of international aviation. Roughly two-thirds of all scientific papers, half of all European business deals and 70 percent of the world's mail depends upon English.
     Germans speak of der Teen-ager, der Cash-flow, ein Image Problem, and German politicians snarl "No comment" at German journalists. Italian women coat their faces with col-cream and program their computers with il software. Spaniards, when chilly, don a sueter. Almost everyone in the world speaks on the telephone, or telefoon in the Netherlands and te le fung in China.
     The Ukrainian herkot might seem wholly foreign until you realize that a herkot is why a Ukrainian visits the barber. You also might not recognize ajskrym as Polish for ice cream, muving pikceris as Lithuanian for moving pictures and sztar as Hungarian for movie star.
     The Japanese are particular masters at turning a foreign word into a native product, thus the sumato (smart) Japanese man seasons his conversations with ap-tu-deto (up-to-date) expressions like hai-kurasu (high class) and kyapitaru gein (capital gain).
     Occasionally the borrowed words grow. Productivity has been stretched and mauled until it emerged as purodakutibiti, which sits more comfortably on the Japanese tongue. Picnic has become pikunikku. But the Japanese also employ the same ingenuity miniaturizing English words as they do televisions and video cameras. Modern girl comes out moga, word processor becomes wa-pro, mass communications is masu-komi, and commercial gets truncated into cm.
     European languages show a curious tendency to take English expressions and give them a new twist. The French don't engage in sunbathing, but rather in Le bronzing. In Italy, cosmetic surgery becomes il lifting and in Germany, a young person goes from his teens to his Tweens.
     If we all spoke a common language, things might work more smoothly -- but there would be far less scope for amusement. Consider the warning to Tokyo mortises, published some years ago stating that, "When a passenger of the foot heave in sight, tootle the horn. Trumpet at him melodiously at first, but if he still obstacles your passage, then tootle him with vigor." Coca-Cola cans in Japan at one time carried the slogan, "I feel coke & sound special."
     Products manufactured by one company in Japan used to bear the vacuous message, "Too fast to live, too young to happy." The company, informed of its error, changed the second half of the phrase to "too young to die."
     A hotel in Yugoslavia posted on the doors to its rooms that, "Guests should announce the abandonment of their rooms before 12 o'clock, emptying the room at the latest until 14 o'clock, for the use of the room before 5 at the arrival or after 16 o'clock at the departure, will be billed as one night more."
     What all this suggests is that, while more than 300 million people in the world speak English, the rest, it seems, try to.



Ivan Au is a junior majoring in business administration.


Copyright 1997 by the Daily Trojan. All rights reserved.
This article was published in Vol. 132, No. 27 (Tuesday, October 7, 1997), beginning on page 4 and ending on page 6.