Hey, do you know how Chinese people name their kids? They throw them
down the stairs and whatever sound the kid makes going down is what he is
named: Bing Chong Ching.
Such ‘jokes’, usually
told with a slightly uncomfortable but fully malicious snicker serve to enhance
and perpetuate the stereotype that the Chinese are barbaric, stupid,
incomprehensible and uncultured. As a blogger living in China I have dedicated
my writing career and, to some extent my life to demystifying this culture and
undoing these cruel stereotypes.
It is natural for humans
to mock, deride, belittle, combat or fear that which we do not understand.
China and her culture, having only recently made herself available to The West,
naturally receives and is the target of much misunderstanding, speculation, awe
and wonderment. I side with the latter two.
After my first trip here
in 2008, I was completely enamored with China and all things Chinese. Upon my
return stateside, I would go to friends’ houses with my camera’s memory cards
and, if permitted would expound on and glorify every single aspect of what I
had witnessed in the 3 weeks I spent here.
I recall visiting some
friends, ‘deep Texans’ you might call them. They had never set foot on any
non-American soil, indeed never ventured outside of Texas. Under normal
circumstances they are kind, tolerant and intelligent. Imagine my surprise
when, among the OOOHHHs, AAAHHHs and gasps of surprise one of them said: why do
they have to be so different? Why can’t they be more like us?
I did my very best to not
choke on my disbelief. Surely she couldn’t have said that, right? I had to have
misunderstood! How can a person who is American wish for one of the world’s
oldest continuous cultures to be ‘more like us’ when we, as a culture have only
been around for 237 years?
I sure have my work cut
out for me, dispelling myth and misunderstanding. It seems that there is no end
to the mockery and misapprehension. No matter what, people are still going to
fear and/or ridicule what they do not understand. When it comes to China, cruel
jokes, stereotypes and ethnocentrism will probably be the order of the day long
after my fingers quit hitting the keys. The best I can do is try to educate
and/or correct negative impressions and not tolerate malicious humor.
But Chinglish… Chinglish is
a different matter. Chinglish can be downright funny.
I’ve stated before that
everything from street signs to menus are written in Chinese and in English.
All Chinese are compelled to learn a second language, and that language is
English. Most Chinese assume that every foreigner is an English speaker and
they do their very best to communicate in the foreigner’s purported language. I
respect and appreciate all that. However, in the rush to get onboard that international
trend of duplicating everything into English for the comfort and ease of
foreigners, it seems some translations… well, you could say meaning gets lost
in translation, to borrow a cliché.
Chinglish. The Chinese
are well aware that they make many mistakes when speaking or writing in
English, and they are ashamed of it, even though individual Chinglish mistakes
are probably not intentional or even detected. While English speaking nations
laugh at Chinese attempts to translate, the Chinese bow their heads and vow to
learn more, study harder and translate correctly.
I too am guilty of
laughing when I read any Chinglish. For one because it is so darn funny but
also because, now that I can read Chinese, I wonder how in the world they come
up with some of those translations!
A fire extinguisher, literally
‘extinguish fire bottle’ in Chinese somehow became ‘hand grenade’. None of the
characters on the sign indicate ‘hand’, let alone ‘grenade’. I wonder how they
came up with that translation.
Here is one I’ve seen
quite often, regarding walking on grass. The literal translation of the four
characters displayed on the sign is ‘small heart slippery topple’. Somehow that
translated into ‘Slip and fall down carefully!’
Nuance is to blame for a
lot of these mistranslations. By no literal stretch could ‘small heart’ become ‘caution’.
But if you think of someone’s little love, perhaps a mother for her child or a
burly man for his delicate bride, suddenly ‘small heart’ becomes something
worth protecting… hence the ‘caution’ derivation. The rest of the sign does
convey the intended meaning, namely that one might slip and fall if not
careful.
Did I forget to tell you
that the Chinese love adjectives and adverbs? Hence ‘careful’ becomes
‘carefully’, even in general conversation.
More often than not the Chinese
language conveys meaning through graphic impression rather than actual words. The
character for ‘person’ looks like the legs of a person walking: 人. 女,
the character for ‘woman’ could be interpreted as a female crossing her legs
while holding out her skirts.
While there are over five
thousand drawn characters, actual sounds number only in the hundreds. Context and
tone sometimes gives no clue as to intended meaning. It is common, during
conversation with a Mandarin speaker to ask which meaning any particular sound
represents. In cases like that the speaker will pose the intended meaning by
referencing a more popular use of the sound.
For example: my Chinese
name is GAO LE SI 高乐思.
The first character means ‘tall’. The second one could mean ‘music’ or ‘happy’ depending
on context and/or pronunciation. The final one ‘SI’ could mean all manner of
things, from ‘s**t’, through ‘silk’ to ‘dead’, but is intended to mean
‘thought’.
You can see that it is
very important to convey proper meaning. If I let people fill in the blanks
about my name, they might assume I’m called Tall Happy Crap. Or Tall Music
Dead. My standard introduction goes something like this: “Hello, my name is Gao
Le Si, the ‘Le’ meaning ‘happy’ and the ‘Si’ that means ‘thought’.” Rather
lengthy, but necessary. The added bonus to this introduction is that all my
Mandarin friends nod their heads in appreciation that I understand the vagaries
of their language well enough to get specific about the meaning of my name.
Another way in which
meaning is communicated is by drawing the character. Often you will see people
embroiled in conversation use their index fingers to draw characters in the
palm of their hand or on a surface close by.
One character that is
most often misused and mis-translated is ‘GAN’. It is a simple character: 2
small horizontal lines and one longish vertical line: 干.
It is supposed to depict a shield, and can mean anything from ‘dry’ to ‘empty’,
from ‘futile’ to ‘do’ and from ‘main part’ to ‘having to deal with’. Very
versatile, this GAN.
It is also slang for the
F-Bomb.
Let me disabuse you of
the notion that only venerated, older, bearded Chinese men wearing silk robes
and stroking their sparse mustaches while sitting tailor fashion on silk
cushions are experienced, wise, capable and trusted enough to translate. The
average Chinglish author is mid-twenties with an English Major Bachelor’s
degree, fresh out of college. Someone who is more likely to use ‘Gan’ in slang
form than any of its other meanings.
Thus, many restaurant
menu items including Gan – intending to mean ‘main part’ or ‘having to do with’
are translated into F-Bomb. A dish consisting mainly of duck becomes ‘F**K the
duck”. A delicacy involving shrimp and cabbage becomes ‘The shrimp F**Ks the
cabbage’. Heavens forbid you should want something dry, or dried.
Like dry noodles. Most
often noodles are served in a broth, with veggies and a little meat. One type
of noodles is served dry, though. If you have any loyalty to this blog or are
familiar with Hubei Province cuisine, you will know that the region’s signature
dish is called Re Gan Mian. ‘Re’ meaning ‘hot’, ‘Gan’ meaning ‘dry’ and ‘Mian’
meaning ‘noodle’.
You already know that
‘Gan’ can have several meanings, including a very naughty one. Did you also
know that ‘Mian’ also has several meanings? Besides ‘noodles’, ‘Mian’ can mean
‘flour’ or ‘face’. Not really sure how the same character can represent 3 such
varied concepts. Not even going to venture a guess.
But now that I think
about it… let’s put Re Gan Mian under the Chinglish microscope. ‘Re’ translates
to ‘hot’. In English, ‘hot’ is slang for ‘sexy’ or ‘desirable’. ‘Gan’ we’ll use
in its slang form. ‘Mian’ would be ‘face’ for the uninitiated (it was the first
meaning I learned for that character). All this time I thought I had been
enjoying a local specialty when in fact… OH! NO!!!
I’ll never be able to eat
Re Gan Mian again!!! Somehow I just can’t see myself going to my favorite
noodle stall and saying: “Yeah, give me a bowl of ‘Sexy F-bomb Face’ to go”.
*SIGH!*
NOTE: Credit for this entry goes to my conspirators. I had compiled a
collection of Chinglish found on a Chinese website and sent it to all my
friends, Chinese and Western. During our weekly chat my conspirators told me
they had forwarded that compilation to some of their friends and had gotten
rave reviews. It was while talking with them that I stumbled onto the Chinglish
translation of my favorite noodle dish. We laughed our fool heads off, and
another blog entry was born.
