A language is much more
than an arbitrary combination of symbols and grammatical structures. It is a
dynamic system sustained by the needs of a group of people. The relationship
between culture and language is irrefutable. Let us, for the sake of
convenience, call the original language an item is written in as L1 and the
language it is to be translated into as L2. Clearly, a sound knowledge of the structures
of L1 and L2 alone is far too inadequate to tackle a task as complex as
translation. Gone are the days in which ‘master races’ could, with extreme
nonchalance, translate ‘native work’. Disregarding cultures of L1 and L2 often
leads to incomprehensible translations. In extreme cases, it could lead to a conflict
between the two groups using the two languages or the author himself could
become a target of a fatwa.
Let me illustrate my
point with examples taken from my own experience. After completing a diploma in
translation studies conducted by the Centre for Policy Alternatives, I thought
it would be a good idea to translate some of my favourite English short stories
into Sinhala. The works I selected were Chee’s Daughter by Juanita
Platero, Civil Peace by Chinua Achabe and Everyday Use by Alice Walker.
The trials and tribulations I had to undergo while attempting this seemingly
easy task cultivated in me a healthy respect for those who have succeeded where
I have failed rather miserably.
Chee’s Daughter was
about a Navajo father who wanted to get back his daughter who, according to
their customs, belonged to her mother’s family. The short story, written in
English, contained numerous pitfalls for an unsuspecting translator. Let me point
out four problems I faced while attempting to translate a single sentence:
“Chee urged the buckskin towards the family compound where, secure in the
overhanging rock, was his mother’s dome-shaped hogan (24).”
1.
Am I going to call the man
‘Chee’? In Sinhala, it is a sound that is made to show negative feelings like
disgust and displeasure. Would that create a negative impression of the man?
2.
What is a buckskin? Am I going to call it a mare or light brown mare? Would
my readers comprehend the significance of his horse to the desert dwelling
Navajo man in this story?
3.
‘his mother’s
dome-shaped hogan’ – Am I going to explain that Navajo practiced matrilocal
residences and matrilineal descent?
4.
‘dome-shaped hogan’- What is a hogan? Am I going to call it a daub and
wattle hut, a familiar sight to all Sri Lankans; whereas hogans are unique to
Navajo and Pueblo?
Ideally, considering the
syntagmatic and paradigmatic relationships of the words of L1and L2 should be
enough, but as we have identified in the examples above, the task is not that
simple. The unique flavour added to a word by the associated culture is
essential to a good translation.
Let us look at some more
examples. In Civil Peace, Jonathan Iwegbu commenting on the ‘ex gratia’ payments for the rebel money
says, “They call it (since few could manage its proper official name) egg
rasher (41).”
5.
What am I to do with ‘egg
rasher’? Am I to call it ‘wandi’ in Sinhala or keep ‘egg rasher’? Either way,
the effortless satirical humour in the original would be lost.
Maria, Jonathan’s wife,
terrified when a group of armed thieves come to rob them of their ‘egg rasher’
screams, “Police-o! Thieves-o! Neighbours-o! Police-o! (42)”
6.
The writers by adding a final
/o/ to the words adds an unmistakable Nigerian English twist to them. If I were
to translate this as, “Polissieng-o! Horu-o! Asalwesio-o! Polossieng-o!”, that
is where the reader snaps the book shut with the intention of making use of the
paper for some other purpose better left unsaid. No one in his/her right mind
calls out for help like that in Sri Lanka!
The mother in Alice
Walker’s Everyday Use says, “There I meet a smiling, grey, sporty man
like Johnny Carson who shakes my hand and tells me what a fine girl I have
(8).”
7.
Who is this Johnny Carson? What
makes his opinion important? Being born much later, even many of my urban
readers addicted to TV would not know that Carson
was the host of The Tonight Show, a popular late-night talk-show from 1962 to
1992 – a beloved part of the popular culture in the USA. Am I to explain to my reader
the significance of being invited to such a show to a poor African American widow
living in the rural USA?
Next, the daughter from
the city “jumped up from the table and went over to the corner where the churn
stood, the milk in it clabber by now (15).”
8.
The writer is referring to
butter making, which is not a part of Sri Lankan culture. Therefore, terms like
‘churn’ and ‘clabber’ do not have their equivalents in Sinhalese.
9.
A quilt made from clothes of
many people in the family is a central motif in the short story. The word
‘quilt’ does not have an equivalent in Sinhalese. As the majority of Sri
Lankans are not quite used to quilts and culture associated with quilting, how
should that issue of ‘quilt’ be handled?
In sheer relief that it
was finally over, the translation was submitted to a competition held annually
by the National Library Board. Needless to say that the manuscript was returned
with a properly worded rejection. Having read the manuscript just a little
while ago, I do agree wholeheartedly with those who refused funds to publish
it. The cultural gaps among the different versions of English language as well
as those versions and my own are often unbridgeable. Translating from a
language to another focussing on the structure
alone is a mammoth task; when culture
enters into the equation, the task becomes nearly impossible even to veterans
let alone to an armature like me. A ‘good’ translator makes a series of choices
so as to form a link between two systems, each with its unique taboos, kinship
terms, puns, slang, etc
To sum up, let us attempt to translate the
following Sinhala sentence to English, “Gamahaamine kamathata ambula genawa.”
10.
“Farmer’s wife brought lunch to
the threshing ground.” Anyone with even a rudimentary knowledge of Sri Lankan
culture would say that there is a great difference between ‘farmer’s wife’ and
‘gamahaamine’. The same applies to ‘ambula’ and ‘kamatha’; they cannot be
satisfactorily replaced by ‘lunch’ and ‘the threshing ground’ due to the
cultural connotations attached to them.
Works Cited
Achebe, Chinua. Girls at War and Other Stories. London: Random House,
1972.
Platero, Juanita. Chee’s Daughter. New York: Glencoe, 2005.
Walker, Alice.
In Love and Trouble: Stories of Black Women. London: Harcourt Brace, 1973.
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