I am by no means an expert in Malagasy. In all honesty, I can still only talk at the level of a 5-year-old. My sentences are mostly limited to: I'm tired/sick/hungry/late, I don't know/understand, I don't speak French, I'm going to work/church, and I'm still learning. My questions are similarly limited: When will we return home? Where are we going? Are you tired? Can I help? and Is there rice?
My most complex interaction in Malagasy thus far has been:
Can you please give me soap, please?
Oh, you're washing today?
Yes, I need to wash clothes. How much?
Four hundred Ariary.
Thank you!
Yes, thank you ma'am!
But though I am pretty hopeless at languages, I do enjoy learning (about, if nothing else) them. So here are some fun things I've learned about Malagasy during my time here in Madagascar thus far:
1. One of my favorite things about Malagasy is the way in which people are named, and the names they chose to go by. Since names are so long here- Nakaloina Irma Djujine, for a rather tame example- people tend to go by a shortened version of their name (Kalo), especially when vazaha are involved. Often though, these shortened names are actually words- the equivalent of my sister going by Grace.
I love this, because it helps me learn these words. After calling someone "Hasina" for three months, and then learning that his name means "holy", it helps me put faces with words.
Kalo (English teacher): melancholy chant or song
Haja (supervisor at TPFLM): respect, honor
Onja (student): wave
Hasina (employee at NMS Isoraka): holy, virtue
Lovasoa (student): good inheritance
Fitiavana (student): love
Tsiky (student): smile
Herizo (student): civil rights
Hery (wife of the pastor at Anosibe): strength
Fiadanana (pastor's son): peace
Santatra (student): the beginning
Tanjona (student): the protruding shoulder of a mountain, peninsula
Toky (musician we played with in Antsirabe): trust, confidence
Mr. Fidy (driver of the pastor): to be chosen
Anjaka (works at Isoraka NMS): from mpanjaka, king/queen/royalty
2. Part of culture here that is so apparent it hurts, is how much life revolves around rice. Rice is so important here, a part of everyday life. Even I, in a big city, see this. I sure it's even more apparent in smaller villages. When I ask my students to make dialogues to practice English, they almost always manage to work rice in there somehow. One of my favorites has been: "traffic jams grow like rice here!" (Which, as it happens, is very true)
These are just a few of the many, many words I've found relating to rice in some way:
Vary: rice
Vary akotry: unhulled rice
Vary ampangoro: rice cooked dry
Fotsim-bary: clean white rice ready for cooking
Varimbazaha: wheat (foreigners rice)
Vary lena: thieves who stick together
Mandry fotsy: to go to bed without eating rice
Mingadona: to make a thumping sound when pounding rice
Mihosy: to trample mud in the rice fields
Ranon'ampango: burnt rice water! Yummmmmy!! :)
Salohy: a head of rice
Mandoatra loa-bary: the act of serving rice out of the pot
Ketsa: young rice plants to be transplanted
Tanin-ketsa: a seedbed where rice is planted
3. Then there are the fun, impossible words that I call "Malagasy onomatopoeias". I can only say them when I'm looking at it written down, but they're so fun:
Manakitikitika (mah-nah-kee-tee-kee-tee-kah): to tickle
Misasasasa (mee-sah-sah-sah-sah): to sound like rushing water, falling rain, or rustling leaves
Mikofokofoka (mee-koo-foo-koo-foo-kah): to fidget, to be continuously anxious
Dobodobohana (doo-boo-doo-boo-hah-nah): a thumping sound like a drum
Mibitsibitsika (mee-bee-tsee-bee-tsee-kah): to whisper
Mikakakaka (mee-kah-kah-kah-kah): to laugh loudly
Mikiakiaka (mee-kee-ah-kee-ah-kah): to cry out piercingly
Mikikikiky (mee-kee-kee-kee-kee): to giggle
4. One of the best things about languages are the ways in which words are compounded to form new words. A second best thing about language, in my opinion, are the words that are so close together that you run the risk of saying the wrong thing completely (think hungry and angry, or last and list or content and content in English).
Fiadanana (fee-ah-dah-nah-nah): peace
Fiadiana (fee-ah-dee-ah-nah): the act of fighting
These two are interesting- one small syllable change and you move from the state of peace to the state of fighting. Not two that we tend to group together in English- peace and war are complete opposites, in meaning as well as in spelling and pronunciation.
Lalana (lah-lah-nah): road, the way
Lalana (lah-lah-nah): a law
I love this paring- a different emphasis changes the word completely, but yet I can see the relation. The law is the only way in which to act. At least, that's how I rationalize it in my mind.
Otrika: an ambush
Otri-po: spite, malice
Malice and spite are defined literally as an ambush in the heart. (Fo, changed here to po, is the heart).
Raraka: spilled, scattered
Reraka: tired
This pairing has given me so much trouble these past 9 months. My problem has to do with how vowels are pronounced in Malagasy as opposed to English. A says ah, E says a, I says e, and O says oo. Yikes! So, when I want to say tired, I often end up saying "rahrahka" instead, which is to say, I'm scattered. Fitting, in a way.
Sokatra: turtle
Sakotra: hat
Sarotra: difficult
I cannot get these three words straight to save my life. Sookahtchra, sahkootchra, and sahrootchra all sound exactly the same to me. For the past four months, I have not been able to use the words turtle, hat, or difficult in my conversations. Whenever anyone uses one of those when talking to me, I have to do my best to guess which one they mean based on context clues. Given my already limited understanding of Malagasy, that's led to some pretty hilarious misunderstandings...
"You're going to the market to buy turtle?!" (Definitely was a hat)
"Your head is difficult?" (Nope, they needed a hat)
"Your son's turtle has a hat?" (Her son had a turtle hat... You can find some strange stuff shopping the markets here)
"You can't eat hats in the south? I mean... Do we eat hats here?" (Actually, you can't eat turtles in the south- apparently hats are still on the menu)
5. Some of my all-time-favorite Malagasy words:
Folaka: broken, but still holding together
This sounds so much prettier to me than our English alternatives- hanging on by a thread, hanging in there... This sounds more positive, somehow.
Mangirangirana: to have cracks through which the light can shine
Absolute love. I know it's meant to describe objects, but I like thinking about it in terms of people. When we're broken, flawed, it allows our inner light to shine through. #deep
Mampifanosontsosona: to complicate things
How fitting is that?! I'll be honest, I can't even pretend pronounce this at all.
Tsiky (ts-ee-kee): smile
Try saying that without smiling. Try it. It's impossible.
Miteriteritra (mee-ter-ree-ter-reet-ch-rah): to think
Mostly I'm just proud of being able to say this word. I worked on it for two weeks with my host mother before finally getting it (or at least, close enough to pass).
Matanjaka: strong, of living things only
Every vazaha who learns Malagasy has that one word, that one phrase, that makes people smile when you say it. You don't choose it; it is chosen for you. It isn't the same as other vazaha. Mine is matanjaka. Whenever someone says "oh it took you 3 hours to do laundry? You must be tired!" Or "my friend lives far away, we should take the bus" or even "it's been a long day"-- if I respond with "yes, but I am strong!" it always garners a laugh.
Fetsy: deviously clever, cunning, sharp
The most useful word in the history of language; observe:
Child steals a goose? Fetsy.
Someone goes through the offering line twice in order to get two helpings of candy after? Fetsy.
One of your students tries to teach you the "Malagasy phrase for telling someone they look pretty", but really is trying to get you to ask everyone to be your girlfriend/boyfriend? Fetsy.
The cat jumps on the table to steal food from the plate when Dad has his back turned, then jumps down before he turns back? Fetsy.
Your supervisor "helpfully" tells you "Malagasy customs", which of course turn out to be a bunch of pranks designed to make you look like an idiot? Fetsy...
Old lady cuts in front of everyone at the bus stop when no one but the vazaha is looking? Fetsy!
Your dad steals a meatball from the platter every time your mom has her back turned, until he has too many meatballs in his mouth to speak and so he fakes a coughing attack when she accuses him of taking them? Festy, hihihihi. Festy be.
**all of these are things that actually happened**
6. Finally, the words that are going to be the hardest to not use anymore when I go back to the states:
Tafangy-- an empty Eau Vive water bottle (usually the 1.5L ones)
Mahay!-- roughly means "understand" or "know", but is often used to say "you are very good at/knowledgable of/good job!" (As in 'mahay mihira' or 'mahay miteny gasy!')
Azafady-- sorry, please, and excuse me all rolled into one
Manahoana-- how are you/good morning/hello
Sakay-- crushed chili hot "sauce"
Zay-- all meanings; can be a question, an answer, or just a filler
Misoatra-- thank you
Maditra-- stubborn, disobedient (used about children, cows, sometimes even inanimate objects if you're being funny)
Mahafinaritra-- to be pleasant/enjoyable, nice/beautiful
Voky-- full, satisfied; a compliment to the host of a meal
Tsara-- good
Tsy mety-- not acceptable, not good
Tsy maninona-- no problem/worries, it's ok
Mazotoa!-- enjoy!
Rakitra-- offering
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