Living in a Multilingual World

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Abstract

      <a href="https://readmedium.com/living-in-a-multilingual-world-f41e88115713">
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            <h2>Living in a Multilingual World</h2>
            <div><h3>The one about the Latin connection</h3></div>
            <div><p>medium.com</p></div>
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    </div><p id="10b0">In German, in my experience, most people tend to finish their sentences, they don’t expect others to do the donkey’s work for them. That’s not what we do in Spanish. But whilst it’s not a problem for us, dwellers of the Key to the Gulf, it’s a nightmare for others. I am thinking of Son and Daughter’s Mum now. I lost count of the number of times when she stood there in the middle of the kitchen, mouth wide open, waiting for me to finish the phrase I’d just started. Sometimes she even prompted me with: “… know… what exactly?” Now, having been to and lived in Cuba, she was well aware of this phenomenon, so I sometimes suspected she was playing me at my own linguistic game. At the same time I noticed that both Son and Daughter’s faces remained blank and expressionless during this exchange and I was afraid I could have been laying the foundations for a future linguistic trauma that would unfold in years to come.</p><p id="ad4e">There is a tendency in English, especially in Britain, of people stuttering (I’ve noticed these bouts of sudden stamm

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er more amongst middle- and upper-class folk, if not, look at Boris Johnson, the British Prime Minister. I call this affectation Hugh Grant<i>initis</i>; he created the template). Said stuttering might be conducive to <i>ellipsis malaise</i>, but usually the sentence is completed, the other person is satisfied with the reply and everybody goes home happy and with a spring in their step. In Cuba, on the other hand, the omission of parts of a standard syntactical construction is pretty customary and nobody bats an eyelid over it.</p><div id="2831" class="link-block"> <a href="https://medium.com/illumination/introducing-illumination-writer-mario-l%C3%B3pez-goicoechea-a-cuban-in-london-ce821be9d970"> <div> <div> <h2>Introducing Illumination Writer, Mario López-Goicoechea, a Cuban in London</h2> <div><h3>Mario on his first non-fiction book, what he would wear to a fancy-dress party and life lessons</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*IEKetHbGmdiCfbeNgtJXWg.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="1696">At that time Son had a steep, linguistic hill to climb, but one where culture, once again, played an important role. I knew then he would appreciate it. In the meantime, I did my best to finish my sentences off, close them, lock them up and keep the key in my pocket.</p><p id="6057">Because you know…</p></article></body>

The one about “ellipsis malaise”

Me: ‘Bueno, ya tú sabes…’ (Well, you know…)

Son: …???

Me: ‘Tú sabes como es eso…’ (You know how it goes…)

Son: …???

Me: ‘Nene, que la cosa es…’ (Baby, the thing is…)

Son: …???

Well, I couldn’t blame him, could I? Son had just been the victim of Cuban ellipsis malaise.

He was ten at the time, had been speaking in Spanish practically since he was in his Mum’s womb but was not versed in Cubanish. That’s a different monster. And what a monster.

The natives of the largest island of the Antilles have the habit of chopping off the end of words and sentences — as in “Well, you know …” (“it’s difficult”) or (“it couldn’t be any easier, mate”). I have come to calling this phenomenon ellipsis malaise and I’m sure it occurs in all languages. However, I have noticed that we, Cubans, do seem to enjoy this linguistic, fortuitous occurrence more.

In German, in my experience, most people tend to finish their sentences, they don’t expect others to do the donkey’s work for them. That’s not what we do in Spanish. But whilst it’s not a problem for us, dwellers of the Key to the Gulf, it’s a nightmare for others. I am thinking of Son and Daughter’s Mum now. I lost count of the number of times when she stood there in the middle of the kitchen, mouth wide open, waiting for me to finish the phrase I’d just started. Sometimes she even prompted me with: “… know… what exactly?” Now, having been to and lived in Cuba, she was well aware of this phenomenon, so I sometimes suspected she was playing me at my own linguistic game. At the same time I noticed that both Son and Daughter’s faces remained blank and expressionless during this exchange and I was afraid I could have been laying the foundations for a future linguistic trauma that would unfold in years to come.

There is a tendency in English, especially in Britain, of people stuttering (I’ve noticed these bouts of sudden stammer more amongst middle- and upper-class folk, if not, look at Boris Johnson, the British Prime Minister. I call this affectation Hugh Grantinitis; he created the template). Said stuttering might be conducive to ellipsis malaise, but usually the sentence is completed, the other person is satisfied with the reply and everybody goes home happy and with a spring in their step. In Cuba, on the other hand, the omission of parts of a standard syntactical construction is pretty customary and nobody bats an eyelid over it.

At that time Son had a steep, linguistic hill to climb, but one where culture, once again, played an important role. I knew then he would appreciate it. In the meantime, I did my best to finish my sentences off, close them, lock them up and keep the key in my pocket.

Because you know…