Language musings

So it has been a quiet year blogwise so far. 

Not really otherwise though. Year two of the pandemic and I am on the cusp of my PhD adventure. I have a fair amount to do in that respect, but why rush?

Of course the biggest adventure of all so far this year is Leozinho. Now six months and a while to go until he is fully grown, but definitely in the pleasant part of the experience. (The first few months were harder than I anticipated). 

But the actual topic for this post is to mull over a segment I heard on a podcast I have recently discovered. It is a Norwegian and called Språksnakk, not to be confused with Språktalk (another podcast I have been listening to for longer). 

Anyway, in yesterday's show a listener had sent in a question around the Norwegian phrase "ærlig innrømme". The key point was that innrømme is to admit something, and so the association is quite counterintuitive: how does one admit anything other than honestly? A tautology of sorts. 

What I found disappointing about the response was that there was no reference to English. Rather the expert spoke of the emergence of the phrase "ærlig talt". Now I am no linguist, to be sure. but as someone fluent in both English and Norwegian, it seemed to me that it is in fact a Anglicization.  Ærlig talt is not a tautology in the same way in Norwegian as ærlig innrømme. 

But if one considers that the word "honestly" in English can be a synonym colloquially for sincerely (as confirmed by my screenshot from thesaurus.com, then it could be argued that the point is not about honesty as much as sincerity. 

My take, for what it is worth.
 

Poetry appreciation: Du må ikke sove

av Arnulf Øverland

(my emphasis)


Jeg våknet en natt av en underlig drøm,
det var som en stemme talte til meg,
fjern som en underjordisk strøm –
og jeg reiste meg opp: Hva er det du vil meg?

– Du må ikke sove! Du må ikke sove!
Du må ikke tro at du bare har drømt!
I går ble jeg dømt.
I natt har de reist skafottet i gården.
De henter meg klokken fem i morgen!

Hele kjelleren her er full,
og alle kaserner har kjeller ved kjeller.
Vi ligger og venter i stenkalde celler,
vi ligger og råtner i mørke hull!

Vi vet ikke selv hva vi ligger og venter,
og hvem som kan bli den neste de henter.
Vi stønner, vi skriker – men kan dere høre?
Kan dere absolutt ingenting gjøre?

Ingen får se oss.
Ingen får vite hva der skal skje oss.
Ennå mer:
Ingen kan tro hva her daglig skjer!

Du mener det ikke kan være sant,
så onde kan ikke mennesker være.
Det fins da vel skikkelig folk iblant?
Bror, du har ennå meget å lære!

Man sa: Du skal gi ditt liv om det kreves.
Og nå har vi gitt det – forgjeves, forgjeves!
Verden har glemt oss! Vi er bedratt!
Du må ikke sove mer i natt!

Du må ikke gå til ditt kjøpmannskap
og tenke på hva som gir vinning og tap!
Du må ikke skylde på åker og fe
og at du har mer enn nok med det!

Du må ikke sitte trygt i ditt hjem
og si: Det er sørgelig, stakkars dem!
Du må ikke tåle så inderlig vel
den urett som ikke rammer deg selv! 
Jeg roper med siste pust av min stemme:
Du har ikke lov til å gå der og glemme!

Tilgi dem ikke, de vet hva de gjør!
De puster på hatets og ondskapens glør!
De liker å drepe, de frydes ved jammer,
de ønsker å se vår verden i flammer!
De ønsker å drukne oss alle i blod!
Tror du det ikke? Du vet det jo!

Du vet jo at skolebarn er soldater,
som stimer med sang over torg og gater,
og oppglødd av mødrenes fromme svik
vil verge sitt land og gå i krig!

Du kjenner det nedrige folkebedrag
med heltemot og med tro og ære –
du vet at en helt, det vil barnet være,
du vet han vil vifte med sabel og flagg!

Og så skal han ut i en skur av stål
og henge igjen i en piggtrådvase
og råtne for Hitlers ariske rase!
Du vet det er menneskets mening og mål!

Jeg skjønte det ikke. Nå er det for sent.
Min dom er rettferdig, min straff er fortjent.
Jeg trodde på framgang, jeg trodde på fred,
på arbeid, på samhold, på kjærlighet!
Men den som ikke vil dø i en flokk,
får prøve alene, på bøddelens blokk!

Jeg roper i mørket – å, kunne du høre!
Det er en eneste ting å gjøre:
Verg deg, mens du har frie hender!
Frels dine barn! Europa brenner!

*
Jeg skaket av frost. Jeg fikk på meg klær.
Ute var glitrende stjernevær.
Bare en ulmende stripe i øst
varslet det samme som drømmens røst.

Dagen bakom jordens rand
steg med et skjær av blod og brann,
steg med en angst så åndeløs
at det var som om selve stjernene frøs!

Jeg tenkte: Nå er det noe som hender.
– Vår tid er forbi – Europa brenner!

Written in 1936
 

To-read-list: Hva visste hjemmefronten?

Perhaps in a while I will be brave enough to write in Norwegian, but not quite yet.

As the first installment in what may perhaps become a regular "column" - a book which I would like to read.

I have just listened to a podcast about a book which was released in Norway last autumn. What a debate it created. The book posits that the Norwegian resistance was aware about plans to round up Norwegian Jews and chose not to do a thing about it. Part of her criticism rests on the historians who have subsequently not addressed this issue at all. She refers, among other things, to a recording of the greatest second world war hero in Norway, Gunnar Sønsteby. Where he appears to admit that he knew about the round up some weeks before it took place, but did nothing. According to the podcast (Aftenpostens Forklart podcast - 10 December 2018), historians seem to assume that Sønsteby was mistaken. Which seems a fairly spectacular assumption to make. (Question: what other "mistakes" did he make already then? The recording was made in 1970 and he continued working right until the new millennia, before his death in 2012.)

With the journey in whiteness which my life has taken me on - my feeling is that one consistent characteristic of we whites is that we always underestimate our own propensity to tolerate the egregious acts. Just look at the so-called liberals in South Africa. So whether partly by naiveté or our inability to see the depravity within the heart of the white person, I bet you that they did not value the lives of Norwegians Jews highly enough to take action. Once the full extent of the industrial genocide became known after the war, Norway was by far not the only country who struggled to accept our own complicity and so have undertaken extreme efforts to whitewash history.

The challenge is however with such a book, an idea which I picked up, of all places in a autobiography of Sidney Poitier, consider the actions within the time they took place. Not to excuse. Not at all. But if one does not face the abyss, one is at greater risk to repeat the mistakes. Looking at what is happening today globally when it comes to immigrants and Muslims and other "brown" people in particular. Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it, as the saying goes.

So definitely on my to-read-list. 

I thought it was thunder

It was raining, and I remember thinking that was the first time I had heard thunder in Oslo. I grew up on the Highveld in South Africa where thunderstorms are commonplace. So I didn’t think much of the earth quivering.

A while later my neighbour upstairs was knocking at my window and she told me that it had been an explosion, in the government quarter. Regjeringskvartalet. That is where I have been at several meetings the last few weeks, both at the Finance department and the Trade and Industry Department. I had been planning to go the library, which is just adjacent to the quarter.

That was however the tip of the iceberg. After ascertaining that the one colleague I know was indeed on holiday, something was mentioned about shooting at Utøya. I didn’t think much about it at the time, one was so focused on the bomb. I wondered why they just didn’t call it a terrorist action. Like so many others I did assume it was the work of Islamic fundamentalists. I thought of how naive I thought Norwegians are, we should have known.

As the full extent of what was happening on Utøya started to come out – a man on the main Norwegian channel reported that at least 30 had died – that was so much more shocking and frightening.

I finally went to bed at about quarter to three this morning. The death toll was reported to be 17, seven from the bombing, and ten from the shooting at Utøya. It was also reported that a man had been reported. Not a ”muslim”, but an ethnic Norwegian. In this country that makes a difference. A big difference. One of ”us”, not ”them”. Still a terrorist act, even if not by Al Qaeda.

I woke up about about quarter to seven this morning by a thunderstorm. That first explosion that I thought was just thunder – will I ever be as unperturbed at the sound of thunder again? I thought I would quickly catch up with the death toll before heading back to bed.

Nothing could prepare me for the news. How conservative that initial 30 suddenly was. Now it had been confirmed that 80 kids had died. 80 teenagers and tweens. Unbelievable. Even now I think it completely unfathomable. How can one person do this? How does a run-of-the-mill Norwegian boy-next-door do this? How does one even put words to the horror you feel. The bomb was just a diversion – one was grateful that it had gone off in the middle of summer holidays and even after the end of the work day. But it seemed to be intended to keep police and emergency services busy, not to inflict maximum loss of life. That was reserved for a youth camp. A political youth camp – how can you hate that political party so much? It does not make sense.

I still cannot. I have been down to town, and laid down flowers in several locations – close to the government quarter where so many of my colleagues could have been injured and killed. At Oslo Cathedral, simply because today I am entirely Norwegian. At the parliament because I do believe in this social democracy which is Norway, and believe that it can be a multicultural society – where tolerance and just opinion sharing is possible.

It is scary, I think of my great ”jump” into public debate when I compared comments by a politician to apartheid South Africa where onclusions were being drawn from statistics which were racist. My lack of surprise that the alleged perpetrator was once a member of that same political party.

The police presence here in Norway perhaps doesn’t shock as much as it would Norwegians as I have seen bank guards with bigger guns! There was something about seeing flags at half-mask which moved me. Suddenly the flags were not just symbols of countries, they were symbols of the people of that country. That the US and EU countries also had their flags at half-mask. All my friends who sent messages on facebook or who sent smses. It meant a lot.

At some point I simply have to turn off the TV, go to bed and remember that life goes on. At least for me. The greatest impact on me may be what comes to mind the next time I hear thunder.

Thinking and acting

Am toying with the notion of starting a regular "column" of thoughts where I would take note of experiences I have here in Oslo which epitomise, for me, the difference between living here and living in South Africa. Usually they involve the realisation that someone acts on the basis of their own reasoning and not on the basis of being asked to do something. This was not an experience I can ever remember having in South Africa, so much so that it still amazes me when it happens here.

So this week's Thinker of the Day award goes to the receptionist at the bank, who simply by seeing me standing there with my bank goodie (am not sure how to explain what it is), understood that I needed another and handed it to me. May sound ridiculously simple but I am very thankful for those moments.

The overthinking moment of the week goes to me. There was a bit of a fuss on the underground today, and so for a while there was only one platform being used. The trains that came through were actually going in the 'wrong' direction as it were (i.e. would under normal circumstances been at the opposite platform). I saw a lady with skiis rush on and thought to go after her and tell her that chances are she would head off in the wrong direction, but then found myself thinking that surely others would...but no one did! So she looked as puzzled as I would have expected when the train started moving in the "wrong" direction. So i am wondering whether Norwegians are actually more worried about being their "brother's keeper" as it were than being helpful in that situation. Must be careful not to become too much like that (even though I am a bit too much my brother's keep at times).