How Well We Understand Each Other Even Without Translators

I have always believed that we can learn the most from children, and I am always delighted to see that this is true. They have open minds, bright eyes, and do not shy away from honesty. They are the best teachers, even though we adults often think that we are the ones teaching them.

Last summer in Drvenik, Croatia, I overheard a conversation between two boys on the beach. While playing with pebbles and sand, they tried to explain to each other some linguistic differences between Bosnian and Croatian. Tarik told Filip that his mother had made sandwiches for both of them. Filip, a little confused, asked:

• Mother? You mean your mom?
• No, Tarik replied, my grandmother, not my mom.
• Your grandmother? That means your grandma? Filip asked again, still confused.
• Not grandma, mother! Tarik answered, still calmly.
• So, mom! Filip concluded.
• Nooo! Tarik exclaimed, now frustrated that Filip didn’t understand. Mother, man, my grandmother!
• So, grandma! said Filip.

And so, the two of them kept trying to explain to each other what they actually meant.

I was tempted to step in and explain the differences and the beauty of those differences, but I let them be, as I knew they would figure it out on their own. Honestly, I enjoyed listening to them and laughed at their misunderstanding.

This summer, at the beach in Lovište (Croatia), several children approached me because I was playing so joyfully with my little daughter. They thought they could join us and have fun playing, dancing, and doing gymnastics on the beach. So, I played and talked with everyone, and little Duje, a seven-year-old, noticed that I was speaking a “different language,” as he called it. He proudly started explaining the differences to me, eager to show how much he knew.

Duje explained to me that he says friend, while people in Belgrade, in the “other language,” say fellow—and that means the same thing! Then he explained that bread in that “other language” is called loaf. And train is railway!

The other children listened carefully to these linguistic revelations and admired Duje. So I asked, How do you say ‘May’ in Croatian? The children all answered at once: Well, May, of course! And they all nodded in agreement. You would think we had perfectly understood each other.

I sensed that something was off and asked, But what is May? Silence fell over my little beach group. I pretended not to remember how to say May in Croatian and started guessing, which made the children laugh.

Then I remembered Izet from the TV show Crazy, Confused, Normal and his humorous suggestions for Bosnian month names. Eventually, together, we came up with Blossom Month. I learned Blossom Month from the children—and I will never forget it! Maybe one day, they will also remember May—Bosnian, Serbian, Croatian, Macedonian, Slovenian, Montenegrin—or at least a part of this story that one summer morning was told to them by some Aunt Tihana from Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina. A place where it is equally correct to say train or railway, Blossom Month or May, define or determine…

And maybe, one day, they will laugh at all our languages and remember The Surrealists’ Top List. It is not necessary to overemphasize differences, but it is important to cherish one’s own language, expand knowledge, and, like little Duje, learn “foreign” languages—at least those spoken in neighboring countries.

Tihana Puzić
Owner of Profis d.o.o.