What happened to my mother tongue?

Stuart is trying to learn German in preparation for our move to Germany, but the more I walk around this country and read its magazines and newspapers, the more I despair of still having a language in the long term. English slogans and terminology has become de rigeur for adverts and journalism. I read about "wirelessen" and "cloud computing" and every town needs an English slogan. The magazine above actually has content written entirely in German, not that you would be able to tell from the cover. 

This use of another language doesn't always end well, of course, and apostrophe crime is rife, as is the use of words strung together with little concern for content or indeed meaning:

I really have no idea what this means and how it relates to fashion. Can you take a guess?

Random book recommendations

Kiwi lit really did nothing for me, but South African books, oh boy! There is such intensity, take-no-prisoners honesty, it's amazing. I started with Nadine Gordimer, The Pickup, because a friend had recommended it to me as a book to read about Arab life, but I never go into it. So when I got to Joburg, I tried again, and totally got it.

I moved on to J.M. Coetzee's Disgrace. Spare, harsh, relentless. I am not sure I can cope with any more any time soon.

Next up Alan Paton, author of Cry, the beloved Country. I couldn't find that one (the well-known books of these authors are hard to come by in the local book shops, for some reason), so I started with Ah, but your Land is Beautiful (the man knows a snappy title when he sees it). This semi-fictional story of a group of characters living during the 1950's defiance campaign had such compassion and understanding, I can't wait to read more of his stuff.

As for non-fiction, I finally got around to Nelson Mandela's autobiography A Long Walk to Freedom. I hadn't bothered before, everyone seemed to read it because it was the done thing, but after visiting Constitution Hill and the prison there I changed my mind. I loved the simple words describing an extraordinary life story, as if every step was a normal progression from the one before.

Rian Malan's My Traitor's Heart was a recommendation from the Rough Guide. Malan's family is old Huguenot Africaner, Voortrekkers, politicians and all. He was a journalist and the book is a series of reportages from the frontline of Apartheid. It's a tour de force of horrible and hopeful stories.

By accident I came across Antjie Krog at the airport. I had vaguely heard of her previous book Country of my Skull but had no idea of the eloquence and poetry of her words. Again the bookshop didn't have that, but it did have A Change of Tongue. Beautiful.

That's it for now, but I am looking forward to more books of such fire and force.

Seen at MuseumAfrica

Possibly: "Where's my hand? I am sure I had it a minute ago?"

What do you think she is thinking?

And you think the Belgiums have it hard...

This is only a selection of the 11 official and 9 unofficial languages
of South Africa:

Re-cap: Stockholm

Travelling in the last weeks has been a bit ridiculous, what with going back to Joburg and then spending less than a week in Stockholm before going back for 6 days to Joburg and then - today - returning to Kiwi-land for the New Year holiday.

But I didn't want to miss out on posting some of the things that struck me in Stockholm:

First of all I have realised that Arlanda Airport is a place of many entertainments. Not only did Stuart find a book dispenser last time he passed through, I also discovered my favourite word in Swedish:

And while we are at Arlanda, the ticket machine makes the most laughable plops when buttons are pressed (which I can't post as his blog doesn't allow posting of sound files, so you will have to just try it for yourself when you go there, or ask me and I will send you the clip - it would make a great text message tone for your phone).

what people say

Isn't it?! = Really? You don't say?
Shooo (sure) = ok
Jaaaah = yes
Yebo = totally

Mobile Blogging from here.

Anna is going back to School!

Today we went to the British Council to sign Anna up for an English class.

She has decided, after spending a few weeks with us and dealing with anyone from Stuart to cleaners to the volunteers in the Tsunami relief centre that she needs to improve her language skills. So she took the plunge today and went through the enrolment procedure at the British Council for English lessons. There was an oral and a written exam, the first she has taken in 50 years, I think. But she was pleased to find that other people next to her spoke even less English than she does. This will be a big effort, two hours teaching three days a week with homework and tests. She will be fluent in no time, we think.