LANGUAGES evolve and words shift in their meanings – this is something we cannot help.
With the passing of time, some words that we have known and understood to represent something suddenly seem to have taken on different meanings.
Sometimes, they are like the places which we knew in our childhoods. When we come back to revisit them after many years, we find them changed, unrecognisable even.
It can seem almost terrifying to watch the words that we are familiar with suddenly morph into something else, and become warped or watered down.
Languages can die but they don’t die so easily as long as there are active efforts at maintenance.
In cross-cultural communication, or in communities where diverse languages are used, words are sometimes borrowed from one language and used in another in conversations.
Living in Malaysia, where most of us are at least bilingual, we can’t help but be part of conversations where code-switching and lexical borrowing happen frequently. We do it ourselves either consciously or unconsciously for so many reasons.
Sometimes, it is because we just can’t find the equivalent words in the language that we are speaking. Other times, we switch to two or even three languages in the same conversation, either for group solidarity or even for variance.
But if you ask a typical Malaysian who mixes his languages why he does that, he may just shrug his shoulders and tell you that this is the Malaysian way.
But moving back to the topic of borrowed words, I wonder about ownership. What happens when words originating from one language are borrowed into another language, with the meaning altered?
And worse still, what happens when the words are “returned” or applied back to the original language with the altered meanings?
Take the word “tentative” for example – a word in the English language which, according to the Cambridge Dictionary, refers to something that is not certain. So, a tentative agenda would refer to an agenda that is not definite yet.
We used to be clear about this during staff meetings when we had to plan for major school or faculty events. We drew up a tentative schedule before the final plans were decided. And once everything had been finalised, the sequence of events or items would be printed in the programme brochure very likely under the heading “Agenda” or “Schedule”.
Ensuring continuity: Languages can die but they don’t die so easily as long as there are active efforts at maintenance. – 123rf.com
The word “tentative” has since been borrowed into the Malay language as “tentatif” and Malay dictionaries will tell you that it means the same thing as its English equivalent.
In actual use, however, and even in higher academic circles, I have seen the word “tentatif” appear many times to refer to the actual finalised agenda or schedule of events.
One senior English language teacher tells me that she cringes each time she sees the word “tentatif” displayed in programme books written in Malay, to indicate the actual agenda or final flow of events for the day.
But what is actually more alarming is that the word “tentative” is now also used in English by some in academia with this changed meaning.
Once, during a high-level academic event, when we were handed programme sheets in English, my friend Dilla, who was with me, took one look at the big bold heading “TENTATIVE”, turned to me and whispered: “Hello, isn’t this the real event? Shouldn’t these guys have finalised the agenda by now? Why is it still labelled ‘tentative’?”
I sighed and talked about my theory on how it may be a case of “getting lost in translation”.
“Hmm,” said Dilla, sounding very unconvinced. “It is like when someone borrows your favourite top, T-shirt, whatever, and then returns it to you after a long time, all stretched and out of shape and you can never use it anymore – at least not in the way you used to.”
It was a good analogy and one that struck home. Before I could reply, Dilla went on: “And while we are on this word-borrowing topic, what about words for food. Take Char Kway Teow for instance.
“All my Chinese friends tell me that the word ‘char’ means ‘fried.’ So, Char Kway Teow is fried kway teow, which I absolutely love. So last month when I went to a Malay restaurant, I saw Char Kway Teow on the menu and ordered it. The dish came on a plate soaked in a pool of gravy.
“When I asked the servers why I didn’t get the fried kway teow I ordered, they said, ‘If that was what you wanted, you should have ordered kway teow goreng.’ So, I have learnt something useful. The Chinese Char Kway Teow is equivalent to the Malay kway teow goreng, while the Malay Char Kway Teow comes dripping wet with gravy. With the mamak version, there is no confusion; you just say kway teow goreng mamak.”
I was relieved when it was time for a coffee break and Dilla finally stopped talking about the naming of Malaysian food items.
I started thinking about other words that seem to have taken on different meanings in the fields of writing and publishing among some academic circles. For example, words like “original” and “plagiarised”.
I have met academics who told me that the trick to writing original academic articles is being able to paraphrase. They believe that as long as everything has been paraphrased and the necessary citations made, you can take someone else’s piece of writing and submit it as your own.
What about the thoughts, I wanted to ask them, what about the ideas that have been copied? Don’t these need to be acknowledged too? And if there is no original thought or content, how can it be counted as original writing? Isn’t it just another form of plagiarism? This is also like borrowing something and then claiming ownership.
But then again, perhaps the words “plagiarism” and “original” need to be redefined, especially in this current era of ChatGPT and artificial intelligence, which has made writing and other related tasks so much easier that teachers of writing have to rethink their curriculum.
Meanwhile, the meaning of the word “writing” will continue to evolve but that will be a topic for another discussion. Tentatively.
Dr G. Mallika Vasugi, who currently teaches at a local university, provides insights into the teaching profession. The views expressed here are the writer’s own.
