The Observer, September 22, 2006
Volume XXXIX, Issue 4
Language flexible enough to convey different meanings
I credit Chris Sebunnya, the English teacher and sometimes translator, for introducing me to the Ugandan tradition of roast pork. As we ordered a platter of the stuff (which comes standard with spiced salt and avocado), he warned me that the dish should be spoken of indirectly in public, so as not to offend one's Muslim friends, for whom pork is forbidden. In fact, there are more than six non-offensive ways to say pork, including:
I'm going to p-one-g: In Uganda, primary school classes are labeled first by year, and then by classroom. If you're in classroom g in primary first, or "p-1-g".
Meet me later for geography-paper-one: A student taking a geography class with three papers might casually remark about their geography paper one due on Friday.
What about some of that which has no neck? Because… pigs don't have necks.
I'm in the mood for some of the animal that walks peacefully: That is, the animal that emulates the example of David, the peace-loving king.
But really, Sebunnya, I laughed, how many Ugandan Muslims are perfectly ignorant of these terms? Probably none, he replied, but aren't these words more fun?
Language is so often used to dance around the unpleasant truth. In Uganda, I was too embarrassed to talk about the messy experience of "upset stomach," "Montezuma's revenge," the "runs," or "indigestion."
My friend e-mailed me last weekend to tell say that she was "sick" which really meant, I have the flu. A prospective boyfriend invited me to "see a movie," and was hurt when I invited two other people to chaperone what he thought was our first date.
The wink and nod lets everyone know what is meant by an invitation for p-1-g. Frankly, though, obfuscation in discourse confuses me. I wish we would say what we mean. I would have been better off if I'd simply asked if anyone had any anti-diarrheal drugs. My sick friend really needed Theraflu and chicken soup, which I would have brought over if she'd told me honestly that she was really "puking all over the place." And, had I known that he was asking me out, my relationship with my prospective boyfriend (now past boyfriend) wouldn't have started with a month of wounded confusion.
But even more than that, what we sometimes use are two languages: an emotive language that conveys passion, and an impartial language that conceals our fervor. I don't doubt the conviction of those who find it impossible to speak of abortion as anything but "killing babies," but how do we speak of the public health consequences of abortion if our language doesn't maintain neutrality? And yet, I don't find that the phrase "differential access to health care and other resources" carries the same moral or call to action as the phrases "global apartheid" or "structural racism."
I love language, whether it is wielded to be obscure, precise, or to convey outrage. Call it p-1-g, geography-paper-one, or the animal that has no neck, I will thank anyone who invites me to pork, just like they make it in Wandegeya.
