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Feeling colours
Fantasies, which may affect experience, could be influenced by the culture around you, and the fact that you don’t have a word to describe it doesn't mean that you don’t feel it.
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I am a Sudanese, Arabic-speaking female who has always lived in predominantly Arabic-speaking countries in Sudan and the Arabian Gulf. My perception of language has therefore been based on the various Arabic dialects in these countries and the linguistic differences between Arabic and English, the two languages I speak. To me, these differences are the result of culture and language development. For example, the words landscape and skyline have no equivalent in Arabic and are roughly translated as ‘natural view’ or ‘ufuq’ which means horizon, prospect, slant amongst other things. There are also new words such as ‘networking’, which literally translates to ‘tashbeek’, a word no one actually uses with people preferring to stick to the English word. What is complicated, but also beautiful, about Arabic is that just like the word horizon can mean many other things, there are for example, scores of words to describe love.
Fast forward to today and I am no longer living in a predominantly Arabic speaking country, English has become the language I use most of the time and as I learn more about other people’s culture and use of language, a new aspect which I wasn’t aware of before has become apparent.
One day I was offered a slice of cake, I took one bite and because it was quite dense and rich I couldn't have anymore. In Sudanese Arabic we have a word to describe this sensation, ‘gaham’, used with a prefix or suffix to explain who it refers to. No it does not mean stuffed or full, because even if you were you could probably manage a tiny bit more. Rather it describes the inability to eat because of the ‘shock’ of how dense or sweet the mouthful of cake was. It can also refer to being put off by even just the sight of a certain type of food.
Now to get back to my new discovery and what I found interesting was not the fact that there was no English word equivalent, it was that my friends did not understand the feeling I was trying to describe. A fun fact before I move on is that this word does exist in Mexican culture. Someone described as such is either too sugary/flattering or sleazy. However, in Sudanese Arabic, when the word is used to describe a person, it means someone who invades your personal space and overwhelms you because they speak too much.
The previous revelation made me curious about how language provokes emotions. Of course there is the aspect that the better you are able to describe your feelings the better you understand them, but this means that you must have the ability to recognize your emotions in the first place. In his book I See A Voice: A Philosophical History, Jonathan Ree describes this as a two-way process in response to an event consisting of an inward experience, ‘perception’, and outward experience, ‘expression or action’. Ree explains that these experiences are shaped by things like fantasy, reflection and consciousness and depend on how much you are able to control and channel them.
For me this is when culture comes into play. Fantasies, which may affect experience, could be influenced by the culture around you, and the fact that you don’t have a word to describe it doesn't mean that you don’t feel it. Perhaps this can be better demonstrated through a concept which we think we all understand in the same way, ie. colours.
The short documentary by Vox titled The Surprising Pattern behind Color Names around the World, describes how in many languages around the world they have only three or four colours: dark, light, red, green or yellow. Despite the fact that there is an endless variety of colours in the world, different cultures choose which ones they will name. Before scholars reached this understanding they thought the people who spoke languages with a limited range of names of colours were colour blind!
If you are Sudanese, the previous paragraph may have sparked a little recognition, namely the Arabic words ‘azrag’ meaning blue and ‘abyad’, meaning white and which are used in Sudan to describe darker or lighter hues respectively. The White and Blue Niles are examples of this. Thus, while the Blue Nile, originating in Lake Tana in the mountains of Ethiopia, flows fastly in a relatively narrow channel dragging silt along with it, the White Nile from Lake Victoria in Uganda travels languorously down to Khartoum winding calmly in its wide channel not disturbing the mud along the way.
The white ‘tob’ and ‘tob alzarag’ or blue sari-like, women's garments share the same word ‘tob’. The main material used for making fabrics in many areas of Sudan is cotton and modern weaving can be traced back to the 1800’s. However, cotton textiles have also been found in excavations in Marawi and Lower Nubia suggesting an even longer existence. White clothes make sense in our hot climate, and the name white has existed for a long time, such as the name El-Obayid, the capital of north Kordofan, which is said to have been named after a specific white donkey. Blue on the other hand could be confusing, ‘alzarag’ is usually a white tob that is dyed with a natural dye made from the river shrub known as ‘nilla’. This plant is well known in Sudan and Egypt and used to describe darkness or black even though it produces blue-coloured fabric.
This very Sudanese colour scheme is applied to more than fabric and is extended to the people who wear them. ‘People’s colours’ fall into four categories including green, yellow, blue and red. A ‘red person’ is someone light-skinned named because their skin turns red in the heat. They can also be referred to as ‘halabi’ meaning someone from ‘Halab’ or Aleppo. What about ‘green people’? Interestingly, this description of ‘skin colour’ is also used in other Arabic speaking countries such as Oman and Kuwait. There are many speculations about the origin of this description with some saying it originates from the fact that blue means dark, yellow means light, and therefore green means in between. A recent explanation is associated with undertones, a word that is becoming increasingly fashionable, and the colours used to mix to create the perfect foundation - yellow for a lighter tone and blue for a darker one.
Whether or not Sudanese people were aware of the concept of undertones in the past or whether they just didn’t have the time to invent the names for new colors, what is certain is that language, emotions and perception are related in so many different ways and this topic will spark discussions for many years to come.
Artwork by Zainab Gaafar
I am a Sudanese, Arabic-speaking female who has always lived in predominantly Arabic-speaking countries in Sudan and the Arabian Gulf. My perception of language has therefore been based on the various Arabic dialects in these countries and the linguistic differences between Arabic and English, the two languages I speak. To me, these differences are the result of culture and language development. For example, the words landscape and skyline have no equivalent in Arabic and are roughly translated as ‘natural view’ or ‘ufuq’ which means horizon, prospect, slant amongst other things. There are also new words such as ‘networking’, which literally translates to ‘tashbeek’, a word no one actually uses with people preferring to stick to the English word. What is complicated, but also beautiful, about Arabic is that just like the word horizon can mean many other things, there are for example, scores of words to describe love.
Fast forward to today and I am no longer living in a predominantly Arabic speaking country, English has become the language I use most of the time and as I learn more about other people’s culture and use of language, a new aspect which I wasn’t aware of before has become apparent.
One day I was offered a slice of cake, I took one bite and because it was quite dense and rich I couldn't have anymore. In Sudanese Arabic we have a word to describe this sensation, ‘gaham’, used with a prefix or suffix to explain who it refers to. No it does not mean stuffed or full, because even if you were you could probably manage a tiny bit more. Rather it describes the inability to eat because of the ‘shock’ of how dense or sweet the mouthful of cake was. It can also refer to being put off by even just the sight of a certain type of food.
Now to get back to my new discovery and what I found interesting was not the fact that there was no English word equivalent, it was that my friends did not understand the feeling I was trying to describe. A fun fact before I move on is that this word does exist in Mexican culture. Someone described as such is either too sugary/flattering or sleazy. However, in Sudanese Arabic, when the word is used to describe a person, it means someone who invades your personal space and overwhelms you because they speak too much.
The previous revelation made me curious about how language provokes emotions. Of course there is the aspect that the better you are able to describe your feelings the better you understand them, but this means that you must have the ability to recognize your emotions in the first place. In his book I See A Voice: A Philosophical History, Jonathan Ree describes this as a two-way process in response to an event consisting of an inward experience, ‘perception’, and outward experience, ‘expression or action’. Ree explains that these experiences are shaped by things like fantasy, reflection and consciousness and depend on how much you are able to control and channel them.
For me this is when culture comes into play. Fantasies, which may affect experience, could be influenced by the culture around you, and the fact that you don’t have a word to describe it doesn't mean that you don’t feel it. Perhaps this can be better demonstrated through a concept which we think we all understand in the same way, ie. colours.
The short documentary by Vox titled The Surprising Pattern behind Color Names around the World, describes how in many languages around the world they have only three or four colours: dark, light, red, green or yellow. Despite the fact that there is an endless variety of colours in the world, different cultures choose which ones they will name. Before scholars reached this understanding they thought the people who spoke languages with a limited range of names of colours were colour blind!
If you are Sudanese, the previous paragraph may have sparked a little recognition, namely the Arabic words ‘azrag’ meaning blue and ‘abyad’, meaning white and which are used in Sudan to describe darker or lighter hues respectively. The White and Blue Niles are examples of this. Thus, while the Blue Nile, originating in Lake Tana in the mountains of Ethiopia, flows fastly in a relatively narrow channel dragging silt along with it, the White Nile from Lake Victoria in Uganda travels languorously down to Khartoum winding calmly in its wide channel not disturbing the mud along the way.
The white ‘tob’ and ‘tob alzarag’ or blue sari-like, women's garments share the same word ‘tob’. The main material used for making fabrics in many areas of Sudan is cotton and modern weaving can be traced back to the 1800’s. However, cotton textiles have also been found in excavations in Marawi and Lower Nubia suggesting an even longer existence. White clothes make sense in our hot climate, and the name white has existed for a long time, such as the name El-Obayid, the capital of north Kordofan, which is said to have been named after a specific white donkey. Blue on the other hand could be confusing, ‘alzarag’ is usually a white tob that is dyed with a natural dye made from the river shrub known as ‘nilla’. This plant is well known in Sudan and Egypt and used to describe darkness or black even though it produces blue-coloured fabric.
This very Sudanese colour scheme is applied to more than fabric and is extended to the people who wear them. ‘People’s colours’ fall into four categories including green, yellow, blue and red. A ‘red person’ is someone light-skinned named because their skin turns red in the heat. They can also be referred to as ‘halabi’ meaning someone from ‘Halab’ or Aleppo. What about ‘green people’? Interestingly, this description of ‘skin colour’ is also used in other Arabic speaking countries such as Oman and Kuwait. There are many speculations about the origin of this description with some saying it originates from the fact that blue means dark, yellow means light, and therefore green means in between. A recent explanation is associated with undertones, a word that is becoming increasingly fashionable, and the colours used to mix to create the perfect foundation - yellow for a lighter tone and blue for a darker one.
Whether or not Sudanese people were aware of the concept of undertones in the past or whether they just didn’t have the time to invent the names for new colors, what is certain is that language, emotions and perception are related in so many different ways and this topic will spark discussions for many years to come.
Artwork by Zainab Gaafar
