Words “borrowed” from other languages are called loanwords. Everyone is familiar with English loanwords from French (ballet, champagne), German (blitz, kindergarten), and even Japanese (karaoke, kamikaze), but how many Chinese loanwords can you think of, and do you know their sources? Everyone knows mahjong and kung-fu come from Chinese, but I’d venture not many would list ketchup or yen (as in to crave, or a craving) as among the English language’s many Chinese loanwords.
First the easy ones. By Chinese tradition mahjong is often credited with over two thousand years of history, but as the game is played today mahjong, or má jiāng (麻將)-- originally meaning “spotted sparrow”--is generally agreed to have been developed in the Ningpo area of Zhejiang Province in the 1800’s. Foreigners living in Shanghai picked up the game--or, some would say, vice--in the 1920’s and from there it was introduced to the west. Kung-fu and tai-chi are of course of Chinese origin: gōng fu (功夫) and tài jí (太極) in Mandarin.
The term gung ho traveled a circuitous route into the English language. Unsettled by the wreckage left behind in the wake of Japanese and Chinese Nationalist fighting in the late thirties, and much inspired by the burgeoning Communist movement, writers Edgar and Helen (Peg) Snow and “Old China Hand” Rewi Alley, among others, envisioned threatened coastal industries being moved inland to be run by and for the hard-to-do Chinese masses. Snow dubbed the resultant projects “industrial cooperatives” and Alley came up with Gung Ho from the Mandarin gōng hě (工合)--a term that means nothing to Chinese speakers because Alley just literally translated the terms from English: “work together.” In 1942 U.S. marine Lt. Col. Evans Carlson adopted the term as the motto of his guerrilla unit while fighting in the Pacific during World War II. As with many military terms, gung ho eventually found its way into modern English usage and today means “extremely enthusiastic or dedicated.”
Several English food names have Chinese roots. Cumquat, tea, ketchup, and ginseng are all variations of dialectical Chinese pronunciations. The cumquat, or kumquat, is a small green or orange citrus fruit called “kamkwat” in Cantonese. Jīn jú (金橘) or “golden orange” is the Mandarin equivalent. Being one of the largest trade ports in nineteenth century China, Xiamen--or Amoy in the northern Min dialect--is the source of many Chinese loan words, most notably tea and ketchup. Tea, or te as it’s usually romanized from the Xiamen pronunciation, is of course chá (茶) in Mandarin. The source of “ketchup” is, like the sauce, a bit muddy. Etymologists say the concoction was originally a fish sauce and the “chup” is likely rooted in the Fujianese pronunciation of zhī (汁) or juice. It’s said that westerners added the tomatoes but kept the name. Ginseng still vaguely resembles the modern Mandarin rén shēn (人參).
Terms like coolie, sampan, and chop-chop are unsurprisingly of Chinese origin. Coolie, the somewhat derogatory term for an Asian laborer, comes from kǔ lì (苦力): “bitter-strength” or “hard-working labor.” Sampan was introduced into English in the seventeenth century as a term for any flat-bottomed Asian skiff, disappointingly simple in Chinese: sān pán (三盤)--“three planks.” Chop-chop is said to have come from the Cantonese pronunciation of Mandarin’s jí (急)--to hurry.
The seldom used English word yen--a strong desire or a craving--is another term rooted in Cantonese. Etymologists disagree on yen’s linguistic ancestor. Some say it’s a dialectical term for opium, making one wonder if it isn’t rooted in the Mandarin yān (煙 or 菸), meaning “smoke” or “tobacco.” Others cite it as the Cantonese pronunciation of Mandarin’s yù (欲), or “to desire; long for,” and still others say it’s from yǐn (癮), as in shàng yǐn (上癮)--“addiction.”
Discrepancies in the source of common words like ketchup and yen are one of the beauties of a thriving, living language. With its basic roots in Latin and Greek and less-known terms and phrases from other languages, English in even its most rudimentary form contains references to languages that centuries of usage have obscured to the average English speaker. The Oxford English Dictionary, accepted as the most comprehensive dictionary of contemporary English, adds around 4,000 new words a year. How many of these words date from times and cultures most English speakers have no idea of?
Of course English isn’t the only language that sponges from other cultures. Chinese has its share as well. Next month we’ll explore foreign words that the Chinese language--spoken by a historically absorbent culture--have borrowed from other languages.
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빫˾
빫˾(빫˾/Ϻ빫˾/ݷ빫˾/ڷ빫˾),һרҵ빫˾ṩʱȷ淶ķ,ṩ֡ҵķҵ.
November 23, 2007 2:41 PM
1001
cd
April 2, 2008 6:59 PM