I have a tendency to mess languages up pretty royally when I’m trying to learn to speak them. I have many, many stories of language faux pas. Most of the time, people are forgiving, fortunately, but my mistakes do make for laughable moments.
For instance, my Dad was trying to teach me how to order milk tea in Cantonese during a recent visit to Hong Kong. I flagged down the waiter, proud that I could finally say something in Cantonese. But in a moment of hesitancy, I thought I’d better check with my Dad before the waiter arrived. “Dad, do I say, ‘Lai Chai’?” He looked at me, startled, and then burst out laughing. He said, “No, no, no, don’t say that! That means, ‘Drop dead!’” Good thing I checked first. I then proceeded to let my Dad do the ordering while I giggled my embarrassment away.
Another time, I was visiting my brother in Australia, and we had decided to take a tour bus to visit the Pinnacles on the West Coast. There was a Japanese tour guide who was translating for a couple of Japanese tourists on our bus, and David (my brother) and I enjoyed eavesdropping on her explanations and reminisce about our childhood days in Japan. At one of our rest stops, David disappeared not too long before the bus was supposed to leave. We couldn’t leave until he had boarded, but I had no idea where he had run off to. At that point, I turned to the Japanese tour guide and said in Japanese, “My brother is lost.”
Unfortunately, I forgot that the word for “lost” also means “has passed away.” Needless to say, the tour guide’s look of shock and horror made me suddenly realize my mistake. Fortunately, David got back on the bus right before I had to explain my language error. We all breathed a sigh of relief.
One of our yummy meals here in Siaya has been a stew made from red beans and maize (a thicker, denser variation of corn). In the local tribal language, Luo, it’s called “Nyoyo.” However, in trying to voice my appreciation for the meal, I tried saying, “I like NyoNyo.” Apparently I said I liked breast milk.
But, a few days ago, I made a faux pas in English. Pastor Joseph’s eldest son, Victor, is sixteen, and tends to get into a bit of mischief, though it’s generally harmless. He and Drew (fellow BLAZEr) tend to come up with all sorts of semi-violent games and have become like two peas in a pod. The two of them keep the rest of us in stitches with all of their shenanigans.
At one point, I commented that Victor was being such a “silly” guy. He suddenly looked as if I had punched him in the stomach, and I wondered what I had done to insult him so. He then refused to talk with me for the rest of the day, until I cornered him and asked what was wrong. He replied, “You called me silly!”
I was pretty surprised, because I hadn’t thought it would be a bad thing to be called silly. In my mind, it is synonymous to “comedic” or “funny.” But, I thought, maybe I’m missing something. I asked Victor about it and he proceeded to pull out his Oxford Dictionary and flip to the S’s. Here’s what the definition of “silly” said:
“Foolish; one who is weak-minded or lacking good sense; irrational or childish; lacking good sense.”
Oops. No wonder he had been insulted.
Needless to say, I apologized, and when I explained my error, he just laughed it off. Phew!
I guess I should be careful what I say! 😛
“But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things – and the things that are not – to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before Him.” I Corinthians 1:27-29
