South African language ... that you should know ...

A sort of a friend mine (I shall not divulge ... so don't ask) compiled a glossary of common South African English words that can be found on http://www.mediaclubsouthafrica.com/ ... go there for more 'good news' stories about this 'blighted' place ...

I wanted to post the direct link but I AM USING @#$%^& WINDOWS @#$%^&* VISTA ... so it's not possible.

Language in SA is an interesting topic ... if you are interested in language ... I am ... so here goes ...

We have 11 official languages and I'll try and list them ... remember I said 'try' and hopefully in 'spoken by most people' (even as alternative language) sequence ... forgive me if I get it wrong ... I'm in no mood for internet research ... check the dateline. So here goes:

1. English


2. isiZulu


3. Afrikaans


4. isiXhosa


5. seSotho


6. sePedi


7. seTswana ... these three are very close and as a language group probably much bigger than most of the above


8. siSwati


9. tshiVenda


10. isiNdebele


11. xiTsonga

I studied ... if you can call my endeavours at school studying ... seSotho or sePedi ... until I left school and I even had some vocabulary ... but then I began with French at university and since then ... I lost everything but a basic greeting.

Most whiteys profess that they regret not having learnt to speak a darkie language but very few of them ever do. Most darkies speak several languages so ... a Sotho would probably also sepak Zulu and Xhosa and all the other Pedi languages ... as well as Afrikaans and/or English depending on where he or she grew up.

On the mines everybody speaks Fanagalo ... a type of 'universal' language that was created to facilitate communication between the various nations that would put the creators of Esperanto to shame ... because this one actually works.

According to the linguistic legend Noam Chomsky, languages living together in the same space will inevitably 'contaminate' each other and nowhere is that seen quite like in South Africa ... I think in 50 years or so ... we will all be speaking Fanagalo.

For the moment one would only need a basic English in South Africa to get around. It is the lingua franca of the country after all.

So when my maid Zita reiterates her plan to become a magosha (the 'g' is pronounced with a guttural ggggg sound not 'gh' or 'gee') I know she wants to become a prostitute. Yes Zita is still adamant that she will sell her body during the World Cup ... for R500 a pop. I point out to her that it is slightly above the current market average and she retorts: "Aikona ... I will throw in a massage and and a blowjob as well ... all adding up to hard work. I just roll my eyes.

Words that you will definitively encounter in SA:

aikona - no
braai - barbeque
biltong - dried meat delicacy
boerewors - farmer's sausage
eish - an expression of pain
lekker - cool, good, fun,

and many more ... look up the glossary and come to South Africa ... you'll have a lekker time.

FLAG UPDATE: The results for this week are disappointing to say the least. I did not catch a lift with them but Charles Moore and Kieran kept on counting ... 67 on Wednesday and today ... only 60 ... that just means I have to redouble my efforts to get some 'gees' going.

'Gees' with the 'g' pronounced the same way as in magosha is the South African word for the spirit of something or a group. When things are 'lekker' everybody has gees.

My maid Zita and race relations in South Africa

Yes I have a maid. It is a South African thing. Not that I need a maid or even wanted one. I employed Zita out of charitable considerations while I was still employed at the newspaper.


She was a waitress at my networking hub Nuno's, the Portuguese restaurant run by the two lovely lesbians. She needed extra income to pay for her kid's creche. So I employ her because I do not believe that charity does much good to the recipients thereof.


I know because I was also a bit of a charity case lately. My friends refused that I pay for a number of restaurant outings here and in Oyster Bay and although I was suitably grateful, it grated me. We have another friend who lives in Cape Town ... in his car. I pointed out to Jan that once you begin to see yourself as a charity case you are buggered ... and I don't even have a car to live in.


But back to Zita. I employ her and convince Vince that he should do the same. To save her transport money we let her work for both of us on the same day. I am sure she does not work longer than two or three hours per week between the two of us. I live in a bachelor's garden cottage and Vince in a room. Since neither of us cook at home it is merely a question of picking up the clothes from the floor and general tidying up.


As soon as I lose my job, Zita loses hers, allegedly for overcharging a customer. Now Zita is a Xhosa and there is a long tradition of mutual mistrust between us Afrikaners and the Xhosas that started more than 300 years ago with mutual thieving of cattle and intermittent warfare about the same in the Eastern Cape. Vince and I give Zita the benefit of the doubt.


On her last working day before my unfair dismissal case I speak earnestly to Zita about my predicament and tell her that I would have to let her go if the case went badly. She says she will work for me for free as long as I can help her out with transport money. I am touched by her generous spirit and my case goes fairly well so Zita stays.


Yesterday I even convince my sister Emily, who lives on the same property, to also employ Zita. I initially arranged with Zita to come in at 10am because I do not work on Mondays, but now I phone her with the good news that she has another job and tell her to come in earlier so that Emily could show her around.


I spend a fair bit of the night busy with "Internet research" and drinking wine. Zita pitches at 7am. A shouting match ensues, only half in jest, about who said what about time.


Emily clearly forgot that Zita was coming but I pack Zita off into her house and go back to bed thinking that a house occupied by three children and a woman would keep her busy long enough for me to catch up on some much-needed sleep.


I am disappointed at Zita's efficiency when she chases me out of bed at 9:30am. Another shouting match ensues as I refuse to get up and she refuses to amuse herself a bit with more cleaning in Emily's house. She insists that I inspect her work. I tell her that I am a man and that I know from experience with women that I do not know what clean really means.


By 10:30am Zita announces that she is done. I walk up the road with her to draw money for her, but the ATM is not working as it should, so I just give Zita a generous transport allowance and buy her breakfast.


She only eats one egg on toast and when I enquire about the meagre portion, she explains that she needed to be "in shape" for the World Cup ... She plans to make lots of dollars, euros and pounds as a hooker. I just shrug and roll my eyes.


That was my maid Zita and race relations in South Africa in a nutshell ... and the spellcheck tells me that I made only one typing mistake in this whole piece ... By the way thanks to all 11 people who actually took the trouble of becoming followers of my blog. Welcome Simon.