Footnotes

'T'HERE seems to be something about New A Guinea Pidgin which attracts expatriate academics like jam attracts wasps, and in Sep tember pisinophiles from overseas converged on Port Moresby to share in a love feast organised for them by their wantoks at the University of Papua New Guinea.

Some of them appear to have a purely scientific interest in the study of lingua franca and creole languages. Such an interest is to be commended. But in the case of others it is difficult to believe that they are not in fact propagandists trying to promote the cause of Pidgin as a national language, and eager, in the goodness of their hearts and out of their superior wisdom, to teach New Guineans to speak and write Pidgin “properly”.

One had thought that the age of paternalism was over. But what are we to make of this from a European academic who, by the way, has decided unilaterally that Pidgin is to be renamed Nuginian. ?

“Stop murdering Nuginian through indiscriminate borrow ing from English. There is an other way and, if you will only listen to me, I will tell you how.” And again, “We must warn off, and if possible pre vent, Urban Pidgin speakers from etc etc.”

This is a European address ing not his fellow Europeans but New Guineans, and parti cularly, judging by some of his other remarks, Papua New

Guinea’s national leaders. It does not seem a very tactful way of promoting the cause of Pidgin as a national language.

Again, for unctuous condescension what could better the suggestion of one participant that some Motu words might be introduced into Pidgin so that “Papuans should not feel left out”! This proposal was put forward, quite sincerely I am sure, in the interests of “unity”.

I am beginning to detest the word “unity”.

Not because 1 don’t believe in unity. I do. But most of those who use the word in Papua New Guinea equate it with “uniformity”. I

With Percy Chatterton

in Port Moresby

A long, hard road for Pidgin

believe in unity. I will fight with my last breath against uniformity.

As a matter of fact most Paguineans are very tolerant in matters of language. They are good at learning new languages, and they are both polite and pragmatic in using them.

Polite in that they will choose from their re pertory, which may well run to half-a-dozen languages, the one most likely to put the people to whom they are talking at their ease; pragmatic because they will choose the one which will promote maximum communication.

Generally, though not always, these criteria point to the same choice. I say not always be cause sometimes a prestige language is chosen out of politeness when it is not in fact the best medium of communication in a particular

situation. In the case of Papuans it is often the dual criteria of politeness and prag matism, rather than a liking for the language, which leads them to use Pidgin.

Overseas pisinophiles who don’t get beyond our main centres tend to overestimate the universality of Pidgin, and in particular to overestimate the extent of its spread into Papua.

It is true that in Port Moresby most Papuan men, and a few

Papuan women, can understand and speak Pidgin. In the rural parts of Papua it is little known, and there is neither opportunity nor incentive for learning it.

The in-phrase among pisinophiles just now seems to be “language engineering”. This appears to mean leaving it to the experts to decide for us what is or is not “correct”

Pidgin. It also means leaving it to them to invent the new words and phrases which will be required if Pidgin is to cope with the needs of Papua New Guinea’s new social, poli tical and economic structures.

This is not the way in which languages have grown in the past. Usage—the usage of ordinary people, not of academics —has de cided what is, or is not, “correct”. For ex ample, “Between you and I” and “Never ever” may now be described as “correct” Australian English, though I must admit that both of them still make me shudder. In the same way, “correct” New Guinea Pidgin is what New Guineans actually say when they talk to one another, not what the experts think they ought to say.

The job of the academic linguists is to re cord, analyse and, if they can, explain lan guages as they are actually spoken by those who use them as media of communication.

Usage may sometimes be hard to explain and may give pain to language engineers. But that can’t be helped.

A polite Motuan guest taking leave of his host will say Na maimu. Then he will go. But Na maimu doesn’t mean “I’m going”. It means “I’m coming”!

I do not suggest that “language engineering” is entirely illegitimate. I believe it has been en gaged in extensively in Indonesia, though by Indonesians, not by foreigners. What I do suggest is that the inventions of the language engineers should be submitted to the test of acceptance by usage or rejection by disuse before they are included in dictionaries.

I am not a pisinophile myself, but I rate highly the possibilities of Pidgin as a medium for creative writing, and I have read with de light some of the plays, poems and short stories which have found their way into print.

But after eight years in the House of Assembly I am convinced that Pidgin has a long long way to go, and will have to submit to a lot of “language engineering”, before it can be an adequate vehicle for transacting the busi ness of a nation caught up willy-nilly in the complexities of the 20th century world.

Is it worth the effort? Only the lunatic fringe supposes that it is practicable to mediate secondary and tertiary education through Pidgin. Apart from any other consideration, the cost of translating and printing the neces sary text and reference books would be astro

nomical. This means that in the future our public servants, and hopefully our legislators, will be competent to transact the nation’s business in English. Why handicap them by making them transact it in pepped-up Pidgin?

In the meantime, in our desperate need for effective communication, we cannot afford to ignore any language medium. Pidgin, Hiri Motu, the vernaculars —we must use them all.

In the field of broadcasting, the administration radio network, shortly to be absorbed into a national broadcasting service, has set a fine

precedent.

Attempts to promote any one language at the expense of others can only, at this junc ture, lessen the effectiveness of communication in the supposed interest of a phoney kind of unity.

As one of those involved in getting the ineptly-named “Police Motu” renamed “Hiri Motu” (which was fair enough since a pid ginised form of Motu was the language of the Hiri long before it became the language of Sir William MacGregor’s police), 1 sympathise with those who want to find a new name for Pidgin.

A few years ago Pidgin did acquire a new name—Neo-Melanesian; but this seems to have dropped out of use. Perhaps it was a bit pom pous. Now a prominent pisinophile has sug gested Kumula (from kumul, bird of paradise).

Certainly a pleasant-sounding name, and one which won’t have to be changed if Mr Somare should decide to get the gremlins out of Papua New Guinea by finding us a new name which won’t remind us of either.