23 November 2009

Lost in Translation

My trouble started at the Southeast Asian Civilizations Museum. As part of their ChinaFest event, they offered free activities for adults and kids alike: Chinese Quiz Show, Chinese Opera performance, and ancient Chinese bowling. But what I anticipated most was the calligraphy station. Finally, I would find out my Chinese name! It sounds a bit silly, I know. But I feel a certain disconnect with a language when there is no spoken or written counterpart for my own name.

At the station, there was a binder for Western name translations. Eagerly I flipped through, found Sarah (with an "h"), and showed it to the calligrapher. So proud I was of my Chinese name – “sha la” (莎拉) – that I showed off my new-found nomenclature to a Chinese–Singaporean friend. “You know that means ‘salad,’” he said.

One of my annoyances as a student of Chinese is the seeming bastardization of the language when it comes to many foreign translations. Not that I was expecting my name to mean "beautiful woman" or " princess." But at least something like "wife of Abraham" or "mother of nations." For example, Hong Kong actually means “fragrant harbor;” Beijing means "north capitol"; Nanyang (Singapore's name of ole) means "south sea"; and my favorite, xiang shui – perfume (literally meaning fragrant water).

But as in the case of my name, often it is sounds not meanings that are mimicked. Take a look at Singapore's MRT map and you'll see how this beautiful language can be twisted around. While Lakeside station (hu – lake, pan – bank) and Little India (xiao – little, yin du – India) actually mean what they say, Sembawang (san ba wang) and Dhoby Ghaut (dou mei ge) only sound like their English counterparts with little regard for meaning. It’s a bit like spelling out a concept in sign language versus actually using an already available all-encompassing sign.

And so on the basis of sound similarity (and to assist foreigners with recognizing their own native-words-turned-Chinese), my name becomes “salad.” The irony? Sha la really doesn’t sound that much like Sarah, now does it.

3 comments:

  1. Do the Chinese also have difficulty pronouncing the "r" as do the Japanese. That would account for Sha-La rather than Sa-Rah. When one of my children in pre-school had a minor speech impediment I taught her the rhyme/exercise, "Little Lucy lost her locket." It came out "Rittle Rucy Rost her Rocket." After much practice she eventually mastered the tongue against the roof of her mouth and got it right.
    Love, Grandma

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  2. Salad is not really that bad of a name. There are so many ways to make salad; simple and complex. Variety and blended come to mind when I think of salad. It balances your middle name which means 'blind one.' Hmmm. Blind salad? Salad Blind Seewoester-Cain?

    Mimi's name means 'ear' in Japanese and is a familiar term of endearment in Amharic and either Bisayan or Tagalog (I don't remember which.) The Japanese call the 'heel' on a loaf of bread the 'ear.'

    I like to think that language sometimes reflects attitudes. We always called lima beans by that name and nobody liked them. Bill's family called them butter beans and everyone loved them.

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  3. Ha! You are right...salad isn't that bad of a name=) And I think I would eat anything with the word "butter" in it. Good point!!

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