Anyone in the U. of K. and not moving quickly enough to avoid it will have to complete a census form, providing what will be a snapshot of who is doing what, with whom, and where, on 27 March 2011. Being the good citizen that I am I have just completed the form interposed herewith at the Maison Des Girrafes, noting – with relief – that it does not ask anything about the names, genders, species, qualifications or general health of one’s pets. Had that happened we’d have been here all night.
I did note, however, an accessory leaflet noting down the many languages in which translations of the questions are supplied. There are fifty-six in all (not including Welsh, for which separate arrangements are made), showing what a multitudinous and polygluttonous country we are. The existence of some of these languages, I confess, was news to mes oreilles. Just for the record, the languages were (deep breath) –
Akan/Twi-Fante, Albanian, Amharic, Arabic, Bengali, Bosnian/Croatian, Bulgarian, Cantonese, Czech, Dutch, Filipino (Tagalog), French, German, Greek, Gujarati, Hindi, Hungarian, Igbo, Italian, Japanese, Korean, Kurdish (Kurmanji and Sorani), Latvian, Lingala, Lithuanian, Luganda, Malay, Malayalam, Mandarin, Nepalese, Pahari, Pashto, Persian/Farsi, Polish, Portuguese, Punjabi (Country AND Western Gurmukhi AND Shahmuki), Romanian, Russian, Serbian, Shona, Sinhala, Slovak, Somali, Spanish, Swahili, Swedish, Tamil, Thai, Tigrinya, Turkish, Urdu, Vietnamese, Yoruba, and … wait for it … Yiddish.
The guidance notes says that all the questions have to be completed in English or Welsh – the documents in these various other languages are merely helpful notes. The last language option (the second-to-last, actually, but I put it last because it seemed funnier that way) did make me wonder how some of the guidance notes might be pitched.
– If your mother isn’t staying with you, say that she isn’t, no matter what she says;
– No, you don’t have to say that she keeps asking you if you’ve eaten, or whether you’re wearing a sweater;
– No, ‘hurty feet’ does not count as a major disability;
– No, you can’t put your occupation as schlmiel just because your mother says you don’t love her enough to become a tax lawyer;
– If you’re a palaeontologist, say so. Don’t put ‘doctor’ because your father can’t bring himself to say ‘my son, the palaeontologist’.
– If you broke your parents’ hearts by marrying that shiksa you schtupped in college, say ‘married’. What deal you might make with Ha’Shem is your own business;
– Whatever you do, take time to fill out this form in a nice, quiet place, free from stress, kibitzing, kvetching, schmoozing or other interruptions. We’d be happy to grant you an extension.
No love for Gaelic or Scots?!
BTW, there was a very interesting item on the BBC’s From Our Own Correspondent podcast this weekend about the recent evolution of Hebrew from an ancient written language into a living, spoken, modern language. Fascinating stuff.
‘sfunny – that occurred to me too. No Gaelic, no Irish,
no Dogs. If your language isn’t in the list of 56, there seems no way you get specific help (Hebrew isn’t listed either). Yiddish is quite different from Hebrew. It’s written in Hebrew letters, but it’s really a kind of street-German. The sentence ‘how to get help in Yiddish’ transliterates from the Hebrew letters as ‘fur hilf ayin Yiddish’ rather than anything in Hebrew, which would be quite different.What amazes me is that long after the decline of the Jewish East End and the assimilation of most Jews into the general British mix, there are still people in Britain who’d be more comfortable speaking Yiddish than English, even among the small (yet rapidly growing) ultra-orthodox Jewish community. I mean, my great-grandfather from the Old Country spoke Yiddish, but that was a hundred years ago.
My Late Uncle Henry (who was neither my uncle, nor was he called Henry) immigrated to Britain in the 1930s as a young man from Berlin. He told me that as a child, he and his friends would be chastised for speaking Yiddish, as it was considered rough street-talk.
“fur hilf ayin”
Why, there’s your Scots right there.
All these different languages spoken in your country … who knew?
Not just that, but languages I’d never heard of – like Akan/Twi-Fante, Igbo and Tigrinya.
Very good, Henry––where do you find these pearls?!
As you mentioned, it’s interesting that Yiddish (not recognized by my speech recognition software––it comes out as “you dish”) is listed whereas Hebrew (which is recognized by my software) is not.
In Israel, from the birth of the state the Yiddish language has been treated with disdain for being a language of the Jews of the Diaspora. I too must admit that I was among those that lacked regard for this fascinating language. Now as a more mature person (all right, much older person), I recognize my evil ways. Especially having become a lover of all things written by Bashevis-Singer.
If you haven’t already read it, although it’s definitely not science, I highly recommend Chabon’s “The Yiddish Policeman’s Union”.
By the way, I noticed that Malayalam is on the list. A friend and I were recently discussing Hebrew roots embedded in Malayalamese—probably resulting from the pre-Greek impact of Keralese Jews in India. Quite fascinating.
(see http://www.oocities.com/pec19man/Malayalam.doc).
‘The Yiddish Policeman’s Union’ is something I’ve not yet encountered… I shall have to make amends. As for the connection between Hebrew and Malayalam – the Jews of Cochin in southern India have been there for a very, very long time.
In honour of the thread, and especially for Steve, here is a famous chess story with some Yiddish. It involves JH Blackburne (a famous English player of the 19th century):
“It was during the above… tournament that Blackburne demolished S. Lipschütz. The Jewish player remarked to the spectators, “Der alte Goniff hat mir geschwindeit [sic]!” – “The old crook has swindled me”. Blackburne, who knew German but not Yiddish, went around asking if “Goniff” meant “gentleman”.
This story appeared in a famous book called Grandmasters of Chess by Harold C. Schonberg (1975), which is where I first read it, and in many other places since. Of course, its exact authenticity is much debated. I’ve now found an earlier and slightly different version which is even better. This one involves a Germany Jewish chess master called Jacques Mieses (1865-1954), who emigrated to the UK in the 30s and is sometimes accounted the first post-war British chess grandmaster. From a book published in 1960:
————————————
‘One of Mieses’ favourite stories was concerned with old Blackburne, who, at some Continental tournament, had asked him the meaning of the word ‘Goniff’.
“Why do you want to know?”, asked Mieses.
“Well”, said the Englishman, “after I had trounced Gunsberg this morning I heard him say to someone: ‘Der alte Goniff hat mich mattgesetzt.’ I know, of course, that alte means old and mattgesetzt means checkmated. But what the dickens is a Goniff?”
Mieses was loath to tell him that, strictly speaking, it was Yiddish for “crook”. So he told him not to worry. The word didn’t really mean much, and the way Gunsberg had used it, he certainly had meant no offence.
But the stubborn old Englishman wasn’t satisfied with so vague an explanation, and when Mieses kept on giving evasive answers, Blackburne asked him point-blank: “Tell me one thing. Can one be a Goniff and a gentleman at the same time?’
After some consideration, Mieses reassured him on this point.’
Austin,
That’s a great story–I’ve replayed some of Blackburne’s games a few years ago, but not heard that story.
Goniff, by the way, has its roots in Hebrew, from Ganav, meaning thief or crook (same as Yiddish). However, as languages and especially colloquialisms are rapidly evolving, a “new” Hebrew slang word has popped up in the last decade or so from the same root: “Magniv”–as in something really cool. Even “Ganuv”, as in “you ganuv” or you who were stolen, turns out to be a term for someone who has done something cool (if not partially illegal).
I predict that a new slang word ‘katsav’ will soon appear, and will refer to something disreputable.
Of course, the chessplayers’ nonpareil Yiddish word is kibitzing, which Henry already listed in the main post.
Swedish – but not Danish or Norwegian (bokmål or nynorsk)?
I know – that struck me, too. No Finnish, either. You think there’d be versions in all the main languages of the EU at the very least. And there do seem to be some other omissions. I could be speaking from complete ignorance of course, but if Yoruba, why not Hausa? If Russian, why not Ukrainian?
In way it isn’t that surprising, in the bit of London I live in (Brent) almost 50% of residents have English as a second language. The EDL does not thrive here!
Brent was pretty multicultural even when I lived there 25 years ago (in Willesden Green as a PhD student in the mid 80s).There was a big Afro-Caribbean presence, of course, but much more besides.
What about Australian, Canadian, and American?
Just wondering.
Canadian is only a dialect of American.
‘Tisn’t.
Not yet, anyway.
[BTW I think it's important to note that my reCAPTCHA phrase for this comment was "astrofem 1992", which sounds like the title of an excellent sci-fi movie made in, say, 1950 or so.]
Australian is only half a language (the full thing being Cockney).
You’ve got me thinking ‘satnav’ might be a Hebrew word now, Henry.
I shall refer that one to Dr S. C. of Omaha.
Feh! I hate the way the thread embedding gets lost if you get the effing Captcha wrong. That last one was a response to one of Henry’s earlier comments…
Dinnae fash yerssel.
Which reminds me – one of my best and oldest friends comes from Northumbria, and claims to be bilingual. When we were students together we had ambitions to do a language tutorial tape entitled ‘Larn Yersel Geordie’.
Henry and Austin,
No need to invent too much with regards to “Katzav”; the word means “Slaughter” or “Butcher” in Hebrew…
Not ‘dishonest dissembling rapist’ then?
What’s the difference, slaughter, rape–they’re both serious felonies.
The truly scary thing is that the Knesset actually voted this serial rapist into the presidency over Shimon Peres–knowing full well what he is like. Boggles the mind.
Could it be something about having a Mediterranean coastline? Look at Italy, after all. According to my Italian co-worker, if Don Silvio didn’t keep changing the laws, he’d probably be in jail by now too.
Our rabbi gave a great sermon at Purim. For those who don’t know, this is the festival commemorating events in the book of Esther. The story is set in the Persian Empire, where the emperor, fabulously rich and extremely vain, spends most of the year partying and womanizing. ‘Imagine that such a thing could happen nowadays, in a modern democracy!’ said our rabbi, a twinkle in his eye.