sumakit and the euphemisms

They say the hardest level of competence to attain in any language is pragmatic competence, i.e. the ability to use words according to appropriate meanings in specific contexts. That proved true for me recently. For as long as I could remember, I had used the Dusun word sumakit to mean 'sick' in general. From minor ailment like viral infection to serious problem like cancer, I had always called them sakit "sickness". Little did I realize that I was using the word based on the way I used it in Malay, my dominant language, since the same word sakit is used in Malay to refer to those things.

Until a fortnight ago...at a cousin's house. My cousin, his wife and their eldest daughter's birthdays are all in the same week, so they made it a point to celebrate together this year. I had to come with only my eldest girl and youngest son, as hubby and second girl were not feeling well. One of my cousins, one who had had the advantage of growing up speaking 'pure' Dusun asked me where my hubby was. I, of course, answered "sumakit". She looked at me with a funny expression, burst out laughing and humorously explained to me that one only says sumakit when the person being referred to is gravely ill. Having the advantage of being a medical doctor on top of being a pure speaker, she explained the types of illnesses that one may call 'sakit', and those ailments that should be referred to as longoh-longohon "having a cold", amu osonong kopio "not feeling very well" and a few other euphemisms. I was genuinely surprised. No one had ever corrected me for my use of the word sumakit before. "Well", I said, "one never stops learning".

For the rest of the party I had to endure the cousins' teasing about that every time somebody asked me where's the hubby. At least I know that the phrase ouruan do sumakit (literally "very sick") is a euphemism for "pass away". Otherwise it would have had become another joke among the cousins.

thank you for the music

It has been five years since I last taught a Kadazandusun course. This year I have to teach again. Only one class though. It was a mixed feeling when I was told the news. A bit of excitement, because I always find a joy in preparing teaching materials from scratch. At the same time nervous, because I know students who enroll for Kadazandusun courses at the uni are normally those who are good in languages that they have the courage to learn a language that is 'foreign' to them. (It's the uni's regulation to allow only students who are of different ethnic groups to learn an ethnic language).

First week of class, I looked at eight students with unfathomable expressions. Eight? I never had a group of learners that is this small. I consoled myself that maybe that was a good thing. At least the teaching and learning process will be easier. The only problem would be how to engage these learners in the classroom. I have no idea what kind of learners they are. (For some reason I notice there's always a dominant type of learners in my class every semester, and that helps me a lot in planning my activities). I quickly realized the merit of having a small number of students. The hours can be fully utilized making them understand each and every word in the texts. At the end of the class, I have started looking forward to week 2.

At the end of week 2 lesson, one of my students came to me to ask whether I could possibly translate a Dusun song "Ama om Apa" for him. Pleasantly surprised, I told him I'd love to do that. He gave me the lyrics and I decided to be playful. I gave the root word translation and challenged him to make use of all my explanation in the classroom about how the affixes work to make sense of the song. Soon after almost everyone joined in in his attempt to understand the song. 15 minutes later, the group managed to make sense of most of the words. That's it, I thought. I've found my learner type! I know now I can use music to engage them in the classroom. "Next week", I teased them, "we can sing karaoke in the classroom. You all can take turn to be the lead and backup singers", and everyone went home lightheartedly. I really am looking forward to the next class.

"owh bah"

It seems that lately I've been getting more and more of this response, "owh bah", from friends, family members and even students. It's a good thing that I know how to interpret the intended meaning. Otherwise, it could lead to a major miscommunication. Especially when the response is in the form of text message. One might accidentally interpret the expression as a lukewarm answer (read: I'm not interested), which could possibly be one of the intended meanings anyway. As of now, I've come to the conclusion that "owh bah" can mean the following, and more:

1. Ok -an acknowledgement of one's statement
2. Sure - mostly in response to one's request. Could be that this bears no urgency at all (I'll do it later), or a polite indicator that the person has understood the request and will act on it accordingly.
3. Dismissal - seemingly to acknowledge one's statement or request but actually quietly dismissing it

As regards (3), I remember an incident that happened last year. The bushes by the roadside accros the road of my housing area was on fire. It was a hot day and the fire was spreading fast, at that point, moving towards the traffic light posts. I quickly dialled 999 and reported the fire. To my horror, the operator who answered my call simply said, "owh bah. Banyak-banyak sudah orang yang telefon ni" (Ok, there have been quite a number of people calling), which of course, earned him a hysterical "jadi, kenapa belum ada tindakan?!!!!" (so, why hasn't there been an action?!!!) from me.

Well, "owh bah" is an interesting expression indeed.

and this isTuaran

Finally I managed to force myself to go to the Land Department in Tuaran to get my land title. Yay! Land title. It has such a beautiful ring to it. A piece of land by the sea near Rasa Ria Resort that hubby and I bought with the money we toiled and sweated with. And it's MINE (Ha ha, people will think I'm crazy for being so excited about this. But there is a difference between earning a land title and inheriting one from one's family).

Anyway, I parked outside the building and confidently strode into the building, hesitating only briefly before entering a corridor that led to the land office, at least to my recollection of the place 10 months before. Only that it wasn't an office at all but a conference room, full of jolly elderly people. All eyes were on me and I knew I had to say something. "Sini pejabat tanah ka?" (Is this the land office?), I addressed the question to no one in partidular. Everybody answered me at the same time that I couln't really get what they were saying. Then a young man said "Bukan. Pejabat tanah sana di sebelah. Bangunan Urusetia" (No, the land office is at the other side. Urusetia Building). "Mo ambil geran tanah ka?" (Are you getting your land title?), came a question from an elderly lady. Gosh, it must have been written so clearly on my face. When I admitted it, somebody responded, "Oh, sini bukan tempat ambil geran. Sini tempat kasi tinggal harta" (Oh, this is not the place to get land titles. Here is the place that you leave (arrange to leave) your properties). They all laughed merrily again, looking at me, clearly expecting me to laugh with them. The hilariousnes of the situation struck me. There I was trying to get my land title at a place where people leave their properties, and I so laughed with them. Everyone tried to give me the direction to the land office, and I stood listening, not knowing who to listen to. Finally the young man took charge and showed me the way to the right office, all along jokingly asking me whether the land was big and whether I'd care to share it with them. In response, I jokingly told him that it was only a little piece of paper that I couldn't possibly share it with so many people.

In the land office I was asked to produce the slip they gave me when I applied for the title. I have totally forgotten about that. I thought I'd have to go back home and search for that slip, but instead the lady at the counter asked me to give her my identification card so she could try searching for it. Her reaction surprised me a bit because in many offices in KK I had experienced less friendly treatments for forgetting important documents. She went through her files patiently and 5 minutes later found my land title. I thanked her, wished her happy holidays and dashed out of the office. Outside at the parking lot, I bumped into the group of jolly elderlies again. A closer look at them made me realize that they were made up of various races- Chinese, Dusun, Bajau and perhaps more, but they looked so comfortable with each other. I told myself this is after all Tuaran. One of the melting pots of races in Sabah, where most people live in harmony and speak at least three languages.

They saw me, and waved as if I was an old friend. Somebody shouted to ask whether I had gotten my land title and when I shouted back "yes", they cheered like a group of schoolkids. I smiled happily, knowing one day I'd build my home in Tuaran, and wishing that all my neighbours would be good-natured and jolly people like this lot.