Essay The Queen's English By Samantha Loong	フレームで見る  英文をプリントする  脚注をプリントする
クイーンズ・イングリッシュ 筆者のサマンサさんは、ニュージーランド育ち、英語を母語としている。 ところがイギリスの銀行の音声認識システムでは、彼女の"Yes."という発音が認識されなかったという。 グローバルな言語と考えられている英語だが、国や地域によってさまざまな違いがあるのだ。

I called my bank the other day, and found myself trapped in one of those voice recognition systems — the kind where I was greeted with a disembodied voice that said, "If you have an account with us, please say 'Yes.' If you do not have an account with us, please say 'No.' "

It seemed straightforward enough, so I said "Yes." There was a pause before the voice came back to me: "I'm sorry, I didn't get that. If you have an account with us, please say 'Yes.' If you do not have an account with us, please say 'No.' " This entire exchange repeated itself at least twice, until I finally decided to visualize Hugh Grant in all his foppishness and put on an English accent — it worked.

Having lived in a few countries, my accent is somewhat muddled. To some Kiwis, I sound North American. To North Americans, my pronunciation or use of certain words immediately gives me away as a Kiwi.

The English language is not as global as we would like to think. Since moving to London, I've realized that I was naive to assume I would understand, and be understood by everyone. Calling something "soccer" makes people question if I'm from the U.S. "Dinner" in the U.K. can mean the mid-day meal. And "tea" can mean the evening meal. I have learned very quickly that admiring someone's pin-striped trousers by saying "Ooh, I like your pants," works fine in New Zealand, but elicits the same look of shock as it would in Japan. A workmate once complimented my outfit, asking if I had bought new "togs." In New Zealand, "togs" refer to swimwear. Here, the word means "clothes." What I would call a "singlet" or "tank top" becomes "vest top" in the U.K. To ensure I don't go out in public wearing my underwear on the outside, I've decided to start a dictionary of New Zealand-to-U.K. clothing terms.

Language learning is a funny thing. Well, at least you need to learn how to laugh at yourself, because embarrassment is all part of the learning process. This is how it was with me and Japanese. Through doing things like inadvertently using masculine verb or noun forms, and accidentally closing elevator doors on my superiors — if the little o in the shimeru character doesn't stand for "open," it shouldn't be there! — there's always a laugh shared. And you can be pretty sure I didn't make those mistakes again!

I've had teachers, and even people I considered my friends, think it's OK to make me feel bad about my language abilities. This is why I think surrounding yourself with people who are genuinely supportive of your language learning is vital. As I'm discovering with my automated and human English conversations, no one is ever perfect at any language — even one they consider their own.

Shukan ST: July 2, 2010

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