Wednesday, September 27, 2006

My Problems with Dhivehi Language: Part 1

While working at IGMH as a clinical assistant, I found the psychiatry OPD to of most interesting. People came with odd complaints, and the doctor would write off prescription drugs and write the diagnosis as anxiety disorder, depressive disorder etc. My interest was not piqued by the way medicine was being practiced, but by how difficult it was for the patients to describe their feelings.

How does an average Maldivian describe such concepts as ‘emotional trauma’ when there is no word/phrase for it? How about ‘soul’, ‘mind’, ‘self’ ‘psyche’ or ‘soul searching’? Let alone describe them as being ‘depressed’? Sure. There are words like ‘dhera’ and ‘hithaama’, but can they be used to describe the myriad of emotions like sadness, despair, anguish, angst, melancholy etc.?
A discussion of any topic on Oprah’s shows would certainly be a difficult if not impossible task.

'The limits of my language mean the limits of my world’ stated Ludwig Wittgenstein. While one can feel such emotions even in the absence of words to describe them, it has lead to the emotionally stale society that we are. Take a look at the atmosphere at one of our football games. The silence can truly be compared to that of a crowd listening to a sermon at Friday prayers. We love football. But we don’t dare show it. The only times the crowd shout is for a goal, and when the opposing teams’ goalkeeper takes a goal kick. A distant observer might as well think that the spectators are there by force. Or, go around the airport where loved ones leave or return daily. But hardly a shout of joy or a cry of sorrow escapes. We see Arabs (Muslims) hugging when greeting but I suppose that would only be frowned upon. Maybe the newer generations have noticed this and started greeting people with open arms (literally speaking), but then again they might be doing it just to be cool.

It is not only the emotional sphere that is limited by language. The way we think is clearly affected.
See if you can translate the following to Dhivehi without twisting your tongue.

- the idea of a thought
- proceeding to a conclusion by reason or argument rather than intuition
- abstract thinking
- the unexamined life is not worth living
- ethical issues
- moral values
- ideas and opinions
- I maintain that the cosmic religious feeling is the strongest and noblest motive for scientific research – Albert Einstein
- when sensation, attachment and possession are not, then love and compassion come into being – Krishnamurti

The difficulty is obvious. ‘Language is a crucial tool in the process of thinking. If we don’t have a language that is rich in vocabulary and language that has a subtle and complicated syntax, we are not going to be able to think in very complicated ways. Just imagine trying at the discursive level to carry out any kind of process of thought with a truncated or narrow vocabulary’. In comparison to most of the languages that we have borrowed from, Dhivehi language is very much impoverished in its vocabulary and its syntactical structure.

Are we capable of abstract thought if we don’t know what ‘abstract’ mean? Or of ‘scientific thought’ if we don’t understand it. If we (the lucky few) are not acquainted with English we might as well have been the dumbest people on earth. Sure. We are taught in the English medium. But the English is substandard. While over 98% or so of the population is apparently literate, there are few who read. The concept of commercial magazines saw an increase in reading before it started to become gossip columns. The reason also might be that there are few books available at the local stores which prefer to sell only textbooks. You might as well forget it if you want to buy a book on culture, art, science, religion or philosophy. When the government took their time in constructing a new building for the National Library, it seems few or no thought was put into stocking it with good books. A lack of writers in Maldives is also a cause for concern.
As is evident, the lack of words to describe such key concepts effectively hinders good communication and discussion of good ideas and development of critical thought.

The center for linguistic research has done little to address this issue. I remember a sign on the
operation theater of IGMH. It read ‘falhaa kotari’. One can only imagine what a patient being taken into the theater would feel after seeing that. Clearly the person who put that sign up did not understand the difference between surgeons and butchers. The center as the leading authority on language has failed to address the issue of the word ‘kaley’ (you) too. The community has effectively banned its use citing it as being rude. Even Soadhu, on Heyyambo, while not being able to say that it was okay to use the word ‘Kaley’ could not provide an alternative. So all Maldivians would have to go around speaking without a word for ‘you’. Imagine. The center, meanwhile, is busy teaching a Bachelor’s degree in Dhivehi Language when such key concepts are missing.

‘If evolution of language is not determined by its utility then what is it determined by?’ was a reply when I posted this in a language forum. Dhivehi as a language needs to evolve to meet the demands of the influx of knowledge and new ideas. The emergence of the practice of speaking in English by parents to their children is recognition on their part of such limits in Dhivehi language. Prior to writing this I was against such practice. But I want to be able to say ‘I love you’ or ‘I’m proud of you’ to my son, and to let his thinking develop unhindered by the limits of his mother tongue.

So what needs to be done? Translations of major work from all areas which define a society and which develop thinking; art, science, religion, and philosophy, is a must. The reluctance to borrow words from English, or other languages for that matter needs to be overcome. The Dhivehi language curriculum needs to be reformed and the distinction between language and Dhivehi literature has to be made. (What’s the point in making you read Dhon Hiyala aa Alifulhu at CHSE?) We have to be less arrogant about the mightiness and greatness of Dhivehi language by citing that ‘atoll’ is a Dhivehi word taken into English or by saying that we have terms for each stage in the development of a coconut that is all too commonly heard on debate competitions. We can still retain the so called ‘Dhivehi vantha kan’ even if we borrow from other languages like we have been doing so for centuries.

4 comments:

//Sub/Corpus said...

Posted by Faisal at 5:04 AM ???
dude ... 5 am ... n dat much text ... amazing ...
interesting read, though ...

//Sub/Corpus said...

Posted by Faisal at 5:04 AM ???
dude ... 5 am ... n dat much text ... amazing ...
interesting read, though ...

Kareen said...

Hi Fisal,
Your piece about our language puts down in print thoughts that I have had very often. Studying psychology and having worked temporarity as a counsellor at IGMH I only know the challenges you talk about. It is frustrating, and embarrassing almost, that I can more readily describe my feelings, thoughts and ideas in English than Dhivehi. Reading your article, I thought to myself, would we be better off adopting English as our national language? How long would it take for us to inject some substance into our language so that our conversations will be thought provoking and fluent? When I have tried to have conversations with some people back at home about issues as as art it quickly comes to an end because while people are enthusiastic about art/music/etc, all they can say is 'aa varah salhi dho?' or 'varah reethi dho?' so something along those lines.

We need more dialouge on our culture, language and arts. You are right. I feel that our culture/language is being left behind, and watered down. There is no pride in our national identity. I think that's what it comes down to. And I have to say that the education system has a lot to answer for that. It does not encourgage critical thinking. It does not encourage creativity. It does not teach us our real history. (Rannamaari story is a nice ledgend to keep, but seriously, don't we have a right to know how we really became a Muslim country?). Language is embedded in culture, culture in embedded in history. Isn't it?

I have to stop and gather my thoughts now. I like the way you think, and your art work is very impressive. You are defenitely not an 'aadhaige doctaru'. What software do you use?

Karee

Yaamyn said...

I always knew we Maldivians had limitations of language. You just took a scalpel into the workings of it!

It always strikes me how, though, that our Beyfulhu speak can stretch on for hours of adjectives without an associated noun.

Just mentioning it in passing.

Oh. And by the way, I was also about to get into a medical college in Nepal... Thank God my scholarship got canceled at the last moment! I'm neither selfless, nor noble :p