Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Something Borrowed, Something New

Translation isn't easy.  No, I'm not trying to elevate us linguistic professionals' status or anything like that.  Heaven knows the majority of us are just lowly peons.  It's not hard labor, either: most of us work sitting in front of a computer (or, in the old days, a desk).  What I am talking about is, sometimes translating a foreign word is like pulling something out of thin air.

I learned of the following example at a conference earlier this month.  Apparently when the Languages Commissioner for Nunavut was asked to choose an Inuktitut word for the Internet, she chose the word ikiaqqivik, which literally means "traveling through layers" and refers to the traditional Inuit concept of a shaman traveling through time and space to find answers to spiritual and material questions.[1]

Historically people "borrow" words instead of inventing new ones.  Peking (北京) and Mochi (麻糬) are prime examples.  Their pronunciation closely resembles the native tongue.  But once in a while a new term is invented: Potsticker (鍋貼) and Chopsticks(筷子) belong in that category.  They usually do a pretty decent job of conveying the meaning of the source: 鍋 (pot) + 貼 (to stick) = potsticker!

Now let's turn our attention back to 肉松(whose Traditional Chinese counterpart is 肉鬆).  I know that I didn't officially provide a translation for that term when I wrote about "Child Shredded Meat."   It wasn't because I wanted to avoid the task.  I just thought going into great lengths to explain that should be reserved for another post.

Here's the first paragraph of "Rousong" (that's 肉松's Romanized pronunciation) in Wikipedia:

"Bah-sang, also called meat wool, meat floss, pork floss, flossy pork, pork sung, or yuk sung, is a dried meat product with a light and fluffy texture similar to coarse cotton, originating from China."[2]

Meat wool conveys the texture and meat floss tells of the thinness of the meat fibers, but normal meat doesn't naturally become wool or floss.  Those words simply don't go together.  Bah-sang/pork sung/yuk sung are phonetic translations, but the words may as well be Greek to everybody.  As a native Chinese speaker, I can honestly say that I am just as baffled by them as an English speaker would be.  

I guess if 肉鬆 were as popular as sushi, one of these translations would eventually win out and become the accepted form.  But somehow, this food that's almost like a staple in every Chinese household is still unknown to a lot of English speakers.  Therefore, it has yet to find a proper English translation.  Now who can say translation is easy?!

I've thought about this long and hard, and decided that we should call it Dried Shredded Meat and be done with it.  It's nothing profound like ikiaqqivik, but it gets the job done.



Please translate responsibly.

References:
1. Eva Aariak, Wikipedia.
2. Katharina Soukup, "Travelling Through Layers: Inuit Artists Appropriate New Technologies", Canadian Journal of Communication, 31: 1 (2006).

4 comments:

  1. Why not just call it 'rousong'? "Dried Shredded Meat" doesn't sound very appetizing. It seems akin to calling Sushi 'Raw Fish Cake'... :)

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  2. I thought about calling it "Rousong," but then decided against it. The reason being most English speaker would probably pronounce it as "Rao-song." And the spelling of "Rowsong" makes even less sense and conjures the image of people rowing and singing at the same time. Like I said, the final translation of 肉鬆 most likely will be determined by its popularity. :)

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  3. I feel some of us could benefit from a "Translation 101" tutorial. For example, when I go to Chinese restaurants with English speaking colleagues I am often asked to translate the specials of the day menu on whiteboards written in Chinese characters. For the most part I don't believe I am translating for them; instead, I explain what those dishes are. I can tell them 椒鹽櫻桃 are salt and pepper frog legs but that to me is not translation. My so called translation conveys the ingredients and cooking methods but does not capture the naming of the dish, at least that's how I've always felt.

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    1. This is a great question! In fact, I totally understand what you said about feeling like you weren't translating. The short answer to your question is, YES, "salt and pepper frog legs" is definitely the way to translate 椒鹽櫻桃. The long answer will appear within a few days as a blog entry. Well, it may turn out to be a 2-part entry, depending on how "long" this answer will be. Stay tuned! :)

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