Category Archives: language

V Force Intelligence in Burma

From Burma ’44: The Battle That Turned World War II in the East, by James Holland (Grove Atlantic, 2024), Kindle pp. 86-89:

There were code-breakers too, and radio listening, but possibly the most important of all – especially to those now heading to the front – was V Force.

This extraordinary group of native Burmese under British command operated all along the front and were purely intelligence gatherers and reconnaissance – but they were mightily effective. The commanders had detailed knowledge of the local language, culture and conditions. One of them, based further to the north-east in the Naga Hills, was indicative of the unorthodox approach taken by V Force: Ursula Graham Bower was an anthropologist who had befriended the Naga head-hunters before the war, and, as her Christian name suggested, was a woman.

Another was Captain Anthony Irwin, who was operating in the Arakan, and running his own team under the overall charge of one of the V Force originals, Lieutenant-Colonel Ian Donald.

V Force were the eyes and ears of the British effort in the Arakan. While Irwin was dependent on his local recruits to collect intelligence, his task was to be the brains behind the operation. An inadequate brain, it seemed to him to begin with, but he learned quickly enough. On parting, Donald had told him: ‘Trust [your] men with everything you’ve got, and they will never let you down.’ Nearly a year on, Irwin knew those had been wise words indeed.

‘These men’ were Mussulmen – local Muslims who had settled in the area some two hundred years earlier. There was now an ethnic split in the Arakan between Muslim and Maugh, who were Hindu, which had led to civil war in the area as recently as 1941; like any civil conflict, it had been brutal, with entire villages decimated by the opposing factions. The result had been that the southern half of the Arakan was now predominantly Maugh, while the north was almost entirely Muslim. This local tragedy rather played into the hands of the British, however, because the Arakan had been conveniently split into two distinct spheres of influence, something they were able to exploit. Muslims hated Maughs and, because the Maughs were helping the Japanese, they hated the Japanese too. Conversely, the Maughs were willing to work for the Japanese against the Mussulmen and, by association, the British. There were two factors, however, that made this a better deal for the British than for the Japanese. The first was that most of the fighting so far had been in the north of the Arakan, where there were fewer Maughs. The second was that because the Japanese held dear the cult of racial superiority, they treated all conquered people with violent contempt, including the Maughs. Furthermore, because Japanese forces were generally so badly supplied – especially with food – they tended to loot what they could from the Burmese without paying any kind of compensation. This was not conducive to winning trust.

Irwin very quickly became an ardent Burmese Mussulman-ophile. They were tenacious, courageous and had an uncanny knack for remembering data. Details of enemy columns were recalled with accuracy; they could tell Japanese planes from Allied long before Irwin himself could ever distinguish them. They would remember with precision exactly where enemy dispositions were and be able to mark them on a map. ‘If they see a British soldier lying wounded and lost in the jungle, they will get him in somehow,’ noted Irwin. Barney Barnett of 136 Squadron, had first-hand experience of this: ‘If they see a Jap body, they will cut off the head and proudly bring it to me, demanding baksheesh’, he noted.

Once, Irwin was sent a map, beautifully drawn and with Japanese positions clearly marked. Also written on the map was a note. ‘Many Japs are looting the publics,’ had been neatly scrawled in pidgin English. ‘Please tell the bombing mans and bomb nicely. Please tell the bombing mans that there are many good publics near and only to kill the Japanese.’

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Filed under Bangladesh, Britain, Burma, India, Japan, language, military, nationalism, religion, war

Polish Realia: Imperatives

Ciągnać ‘Pull’ [cf. Pociąg ‘train’, Ger. Zug ‘train’ < ziehen ‘pull’]
Chwyć dowolne uchwyty ‘Grab any handles [on the equipment]’
Mów, pisz i czytaj [po Japońsku] ‘Speak, write and read [Japanese]’
Odkry ponad 70 smaków ‘Discover over 70 flavors’
Otwieraj i zamykaj ‘Open and close [here]’
Otwórz teraz ‘Open now’
Pal tutaj ‘Smoke here’ [in designated area]
Pchać ‘Push’
Pochyl się lekko do przodu ‘Lean slightly forward’
Poczekaj tutaj ‘Wait here’
Popłyń z nami do Szwecji ‘Sail with us to Sweden’
Trzymaj drzwi zamknięte ‘Keep door closed’
Siedź prosto ‘Sit up straight’
Skontaktuje się ‘Contact [us here]’
Skup/Sprzedaż ‘Buying/Selling’
Stań przed urządzeniem ‘Stand in front of the device’
Ustaw siedzisko ‘Adjust the seat’
Wykorzystaj kupon na zakupy ‘Take advantage of the coupon for shopping’
Zagłosuj tutaj ‘Vote here’
Zamów/Odbierz (tutaj) ‘Order/Pick up (here)’
Zeskanuj tutaj ‘Scan here’
Znajdź nas ‘Find us [here]

Negative imperatives
Nie hałasuj ‘Don’t make noise’
Nie odrywaj ‘Don’t tear off’
Nie skacz ‘Don’t jump’
Zakaz biegania ‘No running’
Zakaz palenia ‘No smoking’
Zakaz pływania ‘No swimming’
Zakaz picia ‘No drinking’
Zakaz wjazdu ‘No entry’
Zakaz wstępu ‘No entry/access’

Clickbait
Dowiedz się więcej ‘Find out more’
Kup teraz ‘Buy now’
Nowy sezon | Oglądaj teraz ‘New season | Watch now’
Pobierz aplikacje ‘Download app’
Przeglądaj ‘Browse’
Sprawdź ‘Check [it out]’
Szczegóły wydarzeń na [URL] ‘Details of events at [URL]’
Więcej na [URL] ‘More at [URL]’
Zagraj teraz ‘Play now’
Zarejestruj się ‘Register [yourself]’
Zarezerwuj ‘Reserve [here]’
Znajdź sklep ‘Find store’

Recruiting brochure
Zamieszkaj w USA na wakacje. ‘Live in the USA on vacation.’
Poznaj ludzi z całego świata, ‘Get-to-know people from the whole world,’
rozwijaj się i odkrywaj uroki Stanów ‘develop and discover the charms of States’
po zakończeniu programu wymiany. ‘after the end of the exchange program.’

Wyjedź na wakacje do USA! ‘Go-away on vacation to the USA!’
Spędź lato w Ameryce w ośrodku kolonijnym dla dzieci
‘Spend the summer in America in a [summer] camp center for kids’

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Filed under economics, education, language, Poland

Polish Realia: Locative Plurals

From a WARS card in a PKP train.

Spotkaj się z nami: [Meet with us:]

w czasie sprzedaży mobilnej z wózka mini-bar
[during mobile sales with the minibar trolley]

w wagonach gastronomicznych
[in dining cars]

w wagonach sypialnych i w kuszetach
[in sleeping and in couchette cars]

w restauracjach stacjonarnych WARS w Warszawie
[in WARS station restaurants in Warsaw]

podczas imprez okolicznościowych (WARS CATERING)
[during special events]

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Lunar Calendar Animal Names in Polish

From Moja Japonia, by Anna Golisz (Petrus, 2010), pp. 207-208 (with Google Translation into English):

W Japonii istnieje kilka kalendarzy, w tym od 1873 roku także gregoriański.
(There are several calendars in Japan, including the Gregorian calendar since 1873.)

Kolejnym jest kalendarz księżycowy pochodący z Chin, który w Japonii był używany przez wiele wieków. (Another is the lunar calendar originating from China, which has been used in Japan for many centuries.)

Obecnie pozosałością tego jest nazywanie kolejnych lat od nazw 12 zwierząt: (Currently, the legacy of this is to name the following years from the names of 12 animals:)

myszy, krowy, tygrysa, królika, smoka, węża, konia, owcy, małpy, koguta, psa i świni. (mouse, cow, tiger, rabbit, dragon, snake, horse, sheep, monkey, rooster, dog and pig.) [I deleted the indefinite article Google Translate added to each animal name. J]

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Filed under China, Japan, language, Poland

Wrocław: Każda podróż to opowieść

The catchphrase on a travel poster, Każda podróż to opowieść ‘Every journey is a story’, in our fine hotel in Wrocław caught my eye because Polish opowieść is cognate with Romanian poveste ‘story, tale’, an old borrowing from Slavic. The Romanian infinite verb is a povesti ‘to tell a tale/story/lie, etc’. But for a polyglot traveler, podróżnik poliglotów, călător poliglot, every journey is a vocabulary lesson.

We were in Wrocław sightseeing for a few days on the way to a conference in Szczecin for my better (unretired) half and some other foreign teachers in Poland and neighboring countries. One of Wrocław’s major tourist attractions is the hundreds of tiny krasnal ‘gnomes’ all over the city, but I found its topographical vocabulary more interesting, especially in contrast to Kielce, which was never a castle town (or a river town).

Like every old town in Poland, Wrocław has a ratusz ‘town hall’ in a rynek ‘central market square’ surrounded by its stare miasto ‘old town’. Our hotel overlooked one piece of the old moat (fosa) side of the old town. The Odra river, with its many branches, islands (wyspy) and bridges (mosty) bordered the far side of the stare miasto, which is nowadays typically criss-crossed with trams and busses. The large railway stations in both Wrocław and Krakow touch the edges of each city’s carefully maintained stare miasto, which is surrounded by przedmieścia ‘suburbs’, a bit like the Japanese jōkamachi ‘castle towns’ that lie outside the castle walls and moats. One such early suburb in Wrocław is Przedmieścia Świdnickie (formerly Schweidnitzer Vorstadt), which lay outside the Świdnica Gate.

By the way, every one of the (six or eight) young English-speaking staff we queried at our hotel had studied six or more years of German in school, then let that ability lapse in favor of informally acquired (often fluent) English! This seems to be the pattern throughout Polish Silesia.

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Filed under economics, education, Germany, Japan, language, Poland, Romania, travel

Polish Diaspora in France

My latest compilation from Culture.pl has an article on the Polish diaspora in France. Here are some excerpts:

When we think of the Polish diaspora, France is rarely the first place that comes to mind – often overshadowed by the UK, the US or Germany. Yet the Polish presence in France is older, more complex and more deeply woven into the country’s cultural fabric than most realise.

Through interviews with contemporary Polish migrants and archival research into historical communities, a layered story emerges – one as much about shared histories as it is about work, struggle and identity. Beginning with 19th-century exile, expanding through interwar labour migration, and continuing into today’s cosmopolitan realities, Poles have long helped shape the life of their adopted country. And France, in turn, has shaped them.

The earliest sustained Polish presence in France took shape in the 19th century, following the failed November Uprising of 1830-1831. Thousands of officers, intellectuals and activists fled the Russian-controlled partition and sought refuge in France, launching what became known as the ‘Great Emigration’. This wave of political exiles – over 5,000 by 1833 – formed one of the most enduring diasporic communities of the era. Unlike other groups who returned after political amnesties, most remained as long as Poland’s partitioned status endured.

One bold but ultimately unsuccessful plan – to form a Polish legion to fight in Portugal’s Liberal Wars in 1833 – was led by General Józef Bem and reflected the enduring ideal of transnational solidarity. It gave lasting currency to the phrase ‘For our freedom and yours’ (‘Za wolność naszą i waszą’), which became a defining expression of Poland’s internationalist military ethos throughout the 19th century.

Polish émigrés built schools, charitable institutions and political societies. Some were initially settled in places like Belle-Île-en-Mer off the coast of Brittany, while growing numbers made their way to Paris, which would soon become a central hub of Polish cultural and political life in exile.

Building on these early foundations, Paris evolved into what some would later call ‘Poland’s second capital’. Throughout the 19th century, the city became a vibrant centre where Polish political elites, artists and intellectuals gathered, united by a commitment to preserving national identity in exile.

Nowhere was this more visible than at the prestigious Collège de France, where Polish national poet Adam Mickiewicz was appointed the first Chair of Slavic Literature in Western Europe in 1840. His lectures, a blend of cultural commentary and political advocacy, attracted wide audiences – including figures like George Sand – and reflected diasporic longing for unity and liberation. Though ultimately dismissed for the political intensity of his teachings, Mickiewicz remained an emblematic figure in Franco-Polish cultural relations.

That same spirit of cultural continuity shaped another enduring institution: the Polish School in Paris, founded in 1842 by General Józef Dwernicki and fellow émigrés. The school aimed to raise children in Polish language and tradition, even as they grew up on foreign soil. With Mickiewicz himself serving as vice-president of its council, the institution embodied how deeply intertwined education, culture and politics were in émigré life – a place where Polish identity could be preserved and transmitted across generations born in exile.

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Filed under economics, education, France, language, migration, military, nationalism, Poland, Portugal, Russia

Palauan Musical Obituary

Last October, Jim Geselbracht posted on his Palauan Music blog an obituary titled “Sorry, I Really Must Go” with his memories and also a long list of musical selections to listen to from the life of a very productive Palauan singer, composer, and educator, who began composing when Japanese enka  and evocative Japanese phrases permeated many Palauan songs.  Some of the recordings are very faint, pieced together from old tapes, but well worth a careful listen.

This week we lost another insightful voice in Palauan music: Mengesebuuch Yoichi K. Rengiil passed away at the age of 84 in Guam. Yoichi, both a singer and composer, was born in 1941 and grew up in Ngeremlengui.  In the early 1950s, he moved to Koror to attend the Palau Intermediate School and then left for Guam in 1956 to attend high school and start college.  He returned to Palau in 1963 and taught social studies at the Palau High School.  In the 1960s, he teamed up with Aichi Ngirchokebai, Hidebo Sugiyama and Julie Tatengelel to perform at Aichi’s theater in Koror and at village bais on Babeldaob.  He left Palau again in 1967 to complete his college education at the University of Guam and then obtained a Masters in Education Administration at UH Manoa in 1973.  Yoichi was an active member of the Modekngei, serving as the Principal at the Belau Modekngei School in the 1970s. His professional resume is deep, and I will leave it to others to remember that part of his life, but in this post I would like to acknowledge his contribution to Palauan music.

Yoichi and I met regularly via Zoom over the past five years to discuss Palauan music, language and stories and he was an important mentor to me in understanding the meaning behind the rich musical legacy of Palauan music. From our discussions, I learned of seven songs that he composed between 1963 and 1987:

  • Did er a Sechou, 1963 or 64
  • Oh! Somebody Me Keleng Saingo, 1968
  • Sayonara, But I Love You, 1968 or 69
  • Chellelengem ma Klungiolem, 1969 or 70
  • Decheruk er a Capitol Hill, late 1960s (co-wrote with John Skebong)
  • Merat el Kerrekar, 1970
  • Ng Di Kmedu e ng mo Ngemeded, 1986 or 87

The first song Yoichi ever composed has become a classic: Did er a Sechou. Named for the bridge in the jetty at Ngeremlengui, the song was not autobiographical, as many people think, but rather Yoichi telling the story of a man from Ngeremlengui who was heartbroken over the end of his relationship with his wife and children. The first recording of this song is from the Ngerel Belau Radio tapes, recorded sometime between 1963 and 1967, with Yoichi singing and backed by the VOP (Voice of Palau) band consisting of Hidebo Sugiyama on mandolin and Aichi Ngirchokebai on guitar.

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Filed under Japan, language, U.S., religion, music, education, Micronesia

Cold, Cold Heart in Palau

I just discovered that I had missed the last two posts to Jim Geselbracht’s wonderfully nostalgic (for me) Palauan Music blog. I heard lots of Palauan renditions of Japanese enka and American country and western music during my earliest fieldwork in Micronesia in the 1970s. In his latest post, Jim looks at the antecedents of the Palauan song Aggie Chiang from the 1980s, whose melody goes back at least to 1951 recordings by Hank Williams, Dinah Washington, and Tony Bennett. Hank Williams may have adapted it in turn from You’ll Still Be in My Heart (1945) by “T” Texas Tyler and his Oklahoma Melody Boys. Jim posts links to all those renditions.

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Filed under Japan, language, U.S., migration, music, Micronesia

Polish Insect Terms: Ants, Ladybugs

A recent compilation from Culture.pl contains a long article on entomological etymology. Here are some excerpts on ants and ladybugs:

Mrówka (ant) is a word from the 15th century, the Polish name for an insect known to entomologists as Formica. It comes from the Proto-Slavic *morvь / *morvьjь, related to names in other Indo-European languages. Both the Polish mrówka, the Greek mýrmēks and the Spanish hormiga derive from the Proto-Indo-European root *morṷo- / *morṷĭ-. Etymologists explain the meaning of the word mrówka as ‘a biting bug’.

In the 16th century, the word mrowie (a large cluster of ants) was derived from mrówka and today means ‘a multitude, a group’ (e.g. of people), as well as ‘shivers, goosebumps’. Ants are associated with the fact that they build large anthills and can carry large objects that are much heavier than they are. These insects, like bees, are a symbol of industriousness – someone can be said to be pracowity jak mrówka (as industrious as an ant). Another important feature is their size. You can say that something is małe jak mrówka (as small as an ant). There is also a saying, włożyć kij w mrowisko (poke a stick into an anthill), that is, ‘to stir up trouble, to irritate’.

One of the most numerous families among bugs are beetles. The bug Coccinella septempunctata has been known as biedronka, the ladybug, since the 19th century. Earlier, in the 17th century, the name was biedrunka and had a number of dialectal variants, e.g. biedruszka / biedrawka / biedrzonka / biedrzynka and others. The ladybug’s characteristic appearance, regular dots on its chitinous cover, which according to a naive view of the world indicate their age, allows us to explain the connection of the Polish name biedronka with the dialectal word biedrona, the term for a spotted cow. Therefore, the derivative biedronka with the suffix –ka would mean ‘small cow’. This etymology is supported by other words, including: bierawa,the name of a cow with spots around its hips, back or belly; biedrawy, the name of an ox with patches around its hips; biedrzysty, meaning spotted. According to Wiesław Boryś, the basis was the adjective *bedrъ ‘having spots on its hips’ or ‘spotted, mottled, piebald’, from the Proto-Slavic *bedro-, Polish biodro, the hip.

The etymology of biedronka as a small cow would also find an explanation in another name for this animal, boża krówka, God’s cow, or formerly, krówka Maryi Panny, Virgin Mary’s cow. The ladybug was considered a gift sent from God and was supposed to bring people happiness, hence the children’s rhyme ‘biedroneczko, leć do nieba, przynieś mi kawałek chleba’ (ladybug, fly to heaven, bring me a piece of bread). The perception of the ladybug as a mediator between the human world and the divine world has also been established in other languages: English (ladybird, Virgin Mary’s bird), American (ladybug, Virgin Mary’s bug), German der Marienkäfer, Virgin Mary’s beetle), French la bete a bon Dieu, God’s little animal, or even in the name used in Argentina, vaquita de San Antonio, St Anthony’s cow) and in another Slavic language, Russian, божья коровка (bozh’ya korovka, God’s cow). These are just a few examples demonstrating that the dialectal names of the ladybug in many languages, which later became common terms, consist of an element related to the divine world, as well as an element naming another animal – analogously to the Polish compound boża krówka.

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Filed under language, Poland, scholarship, science

Grains of Poland

During the heyday of the Hanseatic League, Poland was the granary of Europe, and its diet remains very rich in grains. Hardly any of its many breads contain just one grain, and one of its many brands of yogurt calls itself 7zbóż ‘7cereals’. Here are the cereal grains listed in its jogurt z brzoskwinią, gruszką i ziarnami zbóż ‘yogurt with peach, pear and cereal grains’ variety: jęczmień, pszenica, żyto, owies, gryka, ryz, pszenica arkisz, otręby pszenne ‘barley, wheat, rye, oat, buckwheat, rice, spelt wheat, wheat bran’.

Speaking of food labels, here is the breakdown of wartość odżywcza 100 g productu ‘nutritional value in 100 g of product’:
Wartość energetyczna ‘energy value’ 96 kcal
Tłuszcz 
‘fat’ 2,5 g
w tym kwasy nasycone ‘incl. saturated fatty acids’ 1,8 g
Węglowodany
‘carbohydrates’ 14,7 g
w tym cukry ‘incl. sugar’ 13,5 g
Błonnik
‘fiber’ 0,6 g
Białko
‘protein’ 2,6 g
Sól
‘salt’ 0,07 g

Multiply by 3 for the 300 g tub of yogurt!

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Filed under Baltics, economics, food, Germany, language, Netherlands, Poland, Scandinavia