Being able to master several languages is one of my blessed curses, I say this because in order to speak and understand a language one should think in that language as well. In other words never try to speak Afrikaans and think in English and so on. Let me explain, while on holiday we stopped in Malgas to buy fishing bait.
“Ek wil asseblief ‘bait’ koop om vis te vang.” (I want to buy bait for fishing please) I politely asked the shopkeeper. She returned from the back room carrying a plastic bag in each hand. “Kies jou aas!” she smiled. I looked at her in disbelief, “why is she being so rude, and why should I kiss my arse?” I thought. So I merely replied, “Huh?”
“Tjokka of sardientjies?” (Squid or sardines) she continued. “O, kies my aas!” (Choose my bait) I exclaimed, “nee, kies jy my aas, ek weet nie wat eet julle visse nie.” (No you choose my bait; I don’t know what your fish eat) “Ag, hulle laaik alles. Vat altwee.” (Ag, they like everything. Take both)
Needless to say the only thing we caught that afternoon was a cold! Hubby maintains that the fish weren’t biting that day because they did not like my Aas! Well #@*& them!
Incorrect translation is something I’m used to. Hundreds of years ago when we came to this country from Mauritius it took quite a while for us to master the new languages. My father insisted we all learn to speak Zulu, so he bought an LP (Long playing record, for the youngsters with no clue what I mean) entitled, “Siyafunda isiZulu” I want to learn Zulu. The six kids and my parents all sat near the record player faithfully repeating every word. “Sawubona” greeted our instructor; “Show a boner” we all shouted and then burst into fits of hysterical laughter at the puzzled expression on Simon the Zulu cook’s face.
My dad was a very wise man and could give an explanation to almost anything. When we came across a sign that read, “Danger / Gevaar” (which we pronounced like the G in Gestapo and the V as in van) he was quick to tell us that a Gevaar was a very dangerous type of snake. We all looked it up and could never find any reference to this particular snake. My dad even asked our neighbour what a Gevaar was, but he also had no clue. “Well,” my father told him, “whatever a Gevaar is, it is very dangerous!”
He always did wonder why everyone thought he was a funny person! I mean what is so funny in asking an outfitter for a shirt with ‘long trousers’ when he needed to buy clothes for my sister’s wedding? What was the problem when he explained to us that “buy a donkey” (Baie dankie) was the South African equivalent of the expression ‘Break a leg’ or good luck?
Have you ever tried to explain to your French speaking mother what the word “Fyndraai” meant?
One Sunday we were having a family braai and the ladies were sitting around the table telling jokes. The word “fyndraai” sort of slipped out. “Explain!” she commanded. “Well,” I began, “ it’s when a couple are in the process of lovemaking and the man is almost ‘there’ and he gets an Oriental expression on his face. His eyes are narrow slits, his teeth are bared and he has a silly smile on his lips. That’s what fyndraai is.”
Naturally this had all the girls doubled up with laughter that turned into hysterical shrieks when Hubby walked past and asked, “Why are you girls making Japanese eyes?”
Imagine my laughter when the other day my mom asked me whether ‘Fynbos’ was similar to ‘Fyndraai’!
In South Africa today security plays a vital part in any business or private home. This book and the volumes to follow, will guide you step by step through the essential precautionary measures to be taken in protecting your family and valuables. From employing security guards, evacuation of your site and security measures to burglar bars and alarms in your private home.
a Book compiled by me from experience gained after 10 years in the security industry as Industrial relations officer with Nosa qualifications, 1st Aid, fire protection and also S.O.B. grade A.
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