The Philosopher seems to be settling in well with The Mother. Can it actually be that this is for real? I am still waiting to meet her, but it seems she is also wanting to meet The Англичанкие who are an important part of her daughter's life. Although anglichanki literally means women from England, our orphans have co-opted this word as their way of trying to put us, expat and Kazakhstani volunteers alike, in a category.
Sometime last week at the orphanage the kids all greeted us with excitement:
"Yesterday more anglichanki came, different ones! But they know you!"
And then, in the innocent way that children can be unconsciously painfully truthful, they added
"They speak much better Russian and Kazakh than you!"
Turns out they were not anglichanki at all, but students from the local university. To the kids however, it seems this isn't a word describing nationality, but a unique and otherwise indescribable "role" we, and now others following in our footsteps, play in their lives. They have no other word for us. Who are we after all? We're not houseparents, we're not teachers, we're not inspectors, we're not even 'sponsors' who come in an endless stream at holiday times trading candy and icecream and sometimes a dead sheep for a half-hour concert of song and dance and perhaps some brownie points for the next life.
We're adults, but we don't behave like other adults they know - we sit on the ground with them, we laugh with them, we talk with them; the key words being "with them". We're a foreign concept.
There is another word, the usual word for a foreigner, иностранка (ino-STRAN-ka), that is usually used when people want to point out my foreignness, my'other-ness'. But as noted before (Bruised butts...), to my ears that word often carries with it negative connotations. Anglichanki, on the other hand, is a label with a much more pleasing ring.
Showing posts with label language. Show all posts
Showing posts with label language. Show all posts
Tuesday, 27 March 2012
Tuesday, 21 February 2012
Freddy, Teddy, Gnome!
These past couple of winters it seems that we have spent a LOT of time with Freddy (our VW) and our mechanics. Freddy does not enjoy the sudden plummet to -30 temperatures and it always takes several visits to the doctor to sort out what's wrong and to make him better. But standing around with our friendly mechanics, I'm always thankful that we have found some that we not only trust, but who also treat us with respect. There was a time when we used to dread having to take the car for even the most minor of check-ups or routine oil changes. Trying to find a good mechanic that you can develop a relationship with is hard enough in your own language, culture and country, but in Kazakhstan,....
Back when we first started driving a car here we were some of the very few women behind the wheel, and as far as we could figure, the ONLY women who took their car to the mechanics. Not that it was culturally inappropriate or taboo, it just wasn't necessary and didn't happen. When we wandered into a new garage, we felt like we drew a lot of attention,.. and yet at the same time it was hard to get anyone's attention. The latter because that's just the way things go here; if you want some one in the 'service' industry to assist you, it is up to you to command their attention. You must say the first words. If you're lucky, they'll acknowledge you shortly after that and perhaps even make eye contact. Regardless, you must seize the moment and quickly say whatever it is that needs to be said to have your needs addressed before someone else with a louder voice or clearer Russian diverts their attention.
So, walking into an unknown 'service' centre, into a new bastion of men who are simultaneously aware of you, and yet not paying attention to you requires several deep breaths before opening the heavy steel door that guards their kingdom. More often than not, when we finally managed to secure someone's attention we were treated with smirks and sniggers that made us feel as if "oil change" was a dirty phrase!
Of course, there was the one time early on in my car-Russian vocabulary days, when I boldly stated in no uncertain terms that:
"whenever I step on the baby chicken, it squeals"...
I think I realised my mistake only a few seconds after it came out of my mouth, and after all, is it my fault that clutch and baby chicken sound so similar to a novice russian speaker??? but the damage was done, and the guy we were talking to decided we were idiots that he had no hope of understanding and passed us off to someone else, who passed us off to someone else... the upshot of that visit was that we never went back there again!
With experiences like these, I was so thankful when we stumbled across Teddy and the Gnome. We had bought a new battery for our LADA, and the guy behind the counter had been unusually helpful so we decided to ask him for a mechanic he recommended. Good move! He gave us the name of the owner of "the best mechanics" in town, and we walked in, armed with real weapons! Asking to see the owner by name and patrynomic commands immediate respect - you must be somebody! We explained we had been directed by an acquaintance of his (name and patrynomic) and VOILA! instant obligation to assist! He passed us on to one of his mechanics, and we have never looked back since. Teddy (nicknamed by us, because he's a bit of a teddy bear) and the Gnome (nicknamed by the other mechanics, because, well, he DOES look like a gnome!) treated us with respect from the very start. They patiently listened to us as we tried to explain various squeaks, squeals, rattles and bangs, and worked hard to translate our Russian into concepts they could understand.
Much has changed since those early days of me driving and floundering with the Russian language. Where there used to be a handful of rusty old LADA's rattling down the main street, it is now bumper to bumper PRADOs, LandCruisers and the occasional Humvee. Half of these are driven by women, many of whom take their cars to the mechanics themselves. My Russian has improved, but sometimes I'm the one that needs to work hard to translate the Russian into concepts I can understand! Take for instance something I heard last winter while we tried to get our "we-don't-get-this-cold-in-Germany" VW to behave.
Initial, on-the-spot, internal translation:
"You may have a problem with the valve of the single man not moving properly - you may need to replace him"
What they really meant, figured out at home with my online dictionary, wikipedia and much linguistic wrestling to make the words fit the context:
"You may have a problem with the idle speed air valve, you may need to replace it"
Who knew - the Russian words for idle and bachelor are from the same root! :)
Back when we first started driving a car here we were some of the very few women behind the wheel, and as far as we could figure, the ONLY women who took their car to the mechanics. Not that it was culturally inappropriate or taboo, it just wasn't necessary and didn't happen. When we wandered into a new garage, we felt like we drew a lot of attention,.. and yet at the same time it was hard to get anyone's attention. The latter because that's just the way things go here; if you want some one in the 'service' industry to assist you, it is up to you to command their attention. You must say the first words. If you're lucky, they'll acknowledge you shortly after that and perhaps even make eye contact. Regardless, you must seize the moment and quickly say whatever it is that needs to be said to have your needs addressed before someone else with a louder voice or clearer Russian diverts their attention.
So, walking into an unknown 'service' centre, into a new bastion of men who are simultaneously aware of you, and yet not paying attention to you requires several deep breaths before opening the heavy steel door that guards their kingdom. More often than not, when we finally managed to secure someone's attention we were treated with smirks and sniggers that made us feel as if "oil change" was a dirty phrase!
Of course, there was the one time early on in my car-Russian vocabulary days, when I boldly stated in no uncertain terms that:
"whenever I step on the baby chicken, it squeals"...
I think I realised my mistake only a few seconds after it came out of my mouth, and after all, is it my fault that clutch and baby chicken sound so similar to a novice russian speaker??? but the damage was done, and the guy we were talking to decided we were idiots that he had no hope of understanding and passed us off to someone else, who passed us off to someone else... the upshot of that visit was that we never went back there again!
With experiences like these, I was so thankful when we stumbled across Teddy and the Gnome. We had bought a new battery for our LADA, and the guy behind the counter had been unusually helpful so we decided to ask him for a mechanic he recommended. Good move! He gave us the name of the owner of "the best mechanics" in town, and we walked in, armed with real weapons! Asking to see the owner by name and patrynomic commands immediate respect - you must be somebody! We explained we had been directed by an acquaintance of his (name and patrynomic) and VOILA! instant obligation to assist! He passed us on to one of his mechanics, and we have never looked back since. Teddy (nicknamed by us, because he's a bit of a teddy bear) and the Gnome (nicknamed by the other mechanics, because, well, he DOES look like a gnome!) treated us with respect from the very start. They patiently listened to us as we tried to explain various squeaks, squeals, rattles and bangs, and worked hard to translate our Russian into concepts they could understand.
Much has changed since those early days of me driving and floundering with the Russian language. Where there used to be a handful of rusty old LADA's rattling down the main street, it is now bumper to bumper PRADOs, LandCruisers and the occasional Humvee. Half of these are driven by women, many of whom take their cars to the mechanics themselves. My Russian has improved, but sometimes I'm the one that needs to work hard to translate the Russian into concepts I can understand! Take for instance something I heard last winter while we tried to get our "we-don't-get-this-cold-in-Germany" VW to behave.
Initial, on-the-spot, internal translation:
"You may have a problem with the valve of the single man not moving properly - you may need to replace him"
What they really meant, figured out at home with my online dictionary, wikipedia and much linguistic wrestling to make the words fit the context:
"You may have a problem with the idle speed air valve, you may need to replace it"
Who knew - the Russian words for idle and bachelor are from the same root! :)
Sunday, 29 January 2012
In the land of limited vocabulary
As mentioned in my last post, being an alien in another country and language, I have some idea of what it is like to handicapped by a limited vocabulary. But what is it like to have an incomplete grasp of your own native language?
Last year, while on her quest to get into further studies (a quest that is ongoing by the way) one brave and fiesty orphan spent a whole day wandering around the city, asking everyone she met how she could find the POLITIKA on Boriseva. When she finally returned home, unsuccessful, and explained how she had spent her time, we had to point out to her that there is no such building as the POLITIKA.
“What you were looking for is called a POLYCLINIC {local-speak for a medical clinic}”
In all her 18 years of living, she had never heard this common word before, but had latched on to the familiar sounds in the word and come up with politika! (Unfortunately for her, there is also no street ‘Boriseva’ – she had misheard Mariseva!)
More recently, this past summer, little G came home from her first day at her new work.
“How is it?” we asked.
“Good” she said, “but I want to work at a bank.”
My colleague and I exchanged confused looks. A bank? Where did that come from?
“What do you mean?” we probed “What’s wrong with the restaurant?”
It was time for a confused look on little G’s face.
“Nothing. I just want to work at a bank there.”…
Confusion reigned for several more minutes before the issue was resolved.
“Ohhhhhh! A BANKET!” we finally intuited. “You want to work at a banquet”.
“Yes – that’s what I said! A bank!”
Imagine how completely confuddled and befused she was when a few weeks later she was introduced to the BANKOMAT (local-speak for ATM)! Poor girl. I still don't think she really has those three words straight!
Last year, while on her quest to get into further studies (a quest that is ongoing by the way) one brave and fiesty orphan spent a whole day wandering around the city, asking everyone she met how she could find the POLITIKA on Boriseva. When she finally returned home, unsuccessful, and explained how she had spent her time, we had to point out to her that there is no such building as the POLITIKA.
“What you were looking for is called a POLYCLINIC {local-speak for a medical clinic}”
In all her 18 years of living, she had never heard this common word before, but had latched on to the familiar sounds in the word and come up with politika! (Unfortunately for her, there is also no street ‘Boriseva’ – she had misheard Mariseva!)
More recently, this past summer, little G came home from her first day at her new work.
“How is it?” we asked.
“Good” she said, “but I want to work at a bank.”
My colleague and I exchanged confused looks. A bank? Where did that come from?
“What do you mean?” we probed “What’s wrong with the restaurant?”
It was time for a confused look on little G’s face.
“Nothing. I just want to work at a bank there.”…
Confusion reigned for several more minutes before the issue was resolved.
“Ohhhhhh! A BANKET!” we finally intuited. “You want to work at a banquet”.
“Yes – that’s what I said! A bank!”
Imagine how completely confuddled and befused she was when a few weeks later she was introduced to the BANKOMAT (local-speak for ATM)! Poor girl. I still don't think she really has those three words straight!
Monday, 16 January 2012
"Hussein says"... a great way to learn Russian verbs
Some of my best russian lessons have been had while watching, waiting and often participating in the fixing of bumps, bangs, scrapes and general wear and tear of Nadya the LADA and Freddy the VW.
Back in Nadya's day there was the time we were having her brakes seen to. I was in the hoisted up car (not so unusual here), being commanded by a guy named Hussein (quite unusual for here, hence why I remember his name) and was responsible for pressing, holding, pumping and letting go of the brake pedal. They say total physical response is a great way to learn a language, especially verbs, and I would have to agree. I think however, that the words might not have stuck so well, if it wasn't for the fact that I was then able to use 3 of the 4 of them in teaching computer skills to our Tumdi 9th graders.
Before that fun hour spent in a barely heated, dimly lit, exhaust and smoke-filled garage, pressing, holding, and letting go of the brake pedal, I had resorted to a lot of sound effects in my first efforts to teach basic mouse manipulation skills to computer illiterate teens who gripped those mouse-s with steel trap-like grips.
"Just {click} this button once. No {click}. No! Make it sound like this! {click}"
"Ok, to make this window bigger, first you need to {click} but keep it {cliccckkkkkkked}..."
Nope. There's just no way to make a "press and hold" sound with you tongue. I didn't even get to the "let go of the button" sound. The kids were probably just as frustrated as I was. Perhaps they should be called sound in-effects!
However, after repeated reinforcement with Hussein and the brake pedal, I was a master at these 3 russian verbs.
"Just press once. Good"
"Ok, now press and hold,... good, and now let go."
Ahhh,.... the victory of using words... now I know what a talking toddler feels like!
It's just a shame that all my car mechanic words can't be as useful. Thanks to a recent adventure with the gas pedal on Freddy, I learnt the russian word for throttle - for the space of about a week. At the time, I checked my online dictionary and found that unfortunately I can't use it to say to little G, or any other graduate who is acting up: "I could throttle you!!!" (lovingly of course)
Pity. I suspect it would have been a helpful way to reinforce my new vocab addition. Instead, the word has been relegated to the "might recognize it, but can't reproduce it" drawer of my brain.
Back in Nadya's day there was the time we were having her brakes seen to. I was in the hoisted up car (not so unusual here), being commanded by a guy named Hussein (quite unusual for here, hence why I remember his name) and was responsible for pressing, holding, pumping and letting go of the brake pedal. They say total physical response is a great way to learn a language, especially verbs, and I would have to agree. I think however, that the words might not have stuck so well, if it wasn't for the fact that I was then able to use 3 of the 4 of them in teaching computer skills to our Tumdi 9th graders.
Before that fun hour spent in a barely heated, dimly lit, exhaust and smoke-filled garage, pressing, holding, and letting go of the brake pedal, I had resorted to a lot of sound effects in my first efforts to teach basic mouse manipulation skills to computer illiterate teens who gripped those mouse-s with steel trap-like grips.
"Just {click} this button once. No {click}. No! Make it sound like this! {click}"
"Ok, to make this window bigger, first you need to {click} but keep it {cliccckkkkkkked}..."
Nope. There's just no way to make a "press and hold" sound with you tongue. I didn't even get to the "let go of the button" sound. The kids were probably just as frustrated as I was. Perhaps they should be called sound in-effects!
However, after repeated reinforcement with Hussein and the brake pedal, I was a master at these 3 russian verbs.
"Just press once. Good"
"Ok, now press and hold,... good, and now let go."
Ahhh,.... the victory of using words... now I know what a talking toddler feels like!
It's just a shame that all my car mechanic words can't be as useful. Thanks to a recent adventure with the gas pedal on Freddy, I learnt the russian word for throttle - for the space of about a week. At the time, I checked my online dictionary and found that unfortunately I can't use it to say to little G, or any other graduate who is acting up: "I could throttle you!!!" (lovingly of course)
Pity. I suspect it would have been a helpful way to reinforce my new vocab addition. Instead, the word has been relegated to the "might recognize it, but can't reproduce it" drawer of my brain.
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