My desire to go has come, and to me bread is necessary

In my last post I mused on gender in language. This time around I'm pondering self-centeredness.

From what I can tell the Kyrgyz language has no modal verbs such as want, will, should, can and must. English is filled with these. I want to go. I need a jacket. You shouldn't lick doorknobs. In Kyrgyz, adverbs replace the verbs and make statements more indirect.

Commands, for example, sound more like suggestions. You should go, becomes "if you would go, it would be good." I don't want to go, becomes "my desire to go has not come." Kyrgyz speakers do not have things either. Instead, things exist. I have a cat, becomes "My cat exists."

If people in this region value the needs of the collective over the needs of the individual, the language seems to reflect this by removing "I" entirely. The self is only implied through its relation to a desire, need or possession.

I'm going to have to change the way I think, before I open my mouth.

In other news, Why I Will Be Okay.

1. Bring on the fried goat and fermented milk! I'm not a fan of American food anyway.

2. I already only shower once a month and, I've been assured, don't offend the noses.

3. Two beers cans = one camp stove. I try to be crafty.

4. I've lived in the city. I've been mugged, frozen, lost, assaulted, hit by car doors and dined out of dumpsters. I've lived in the country. I've fought chickens for eggs, dug cat holes in the dirt, climbed mountains, butchered pigs and run for miles. I'm privileged as an American, but this apartment still doesn't have hot water, reliable plumbing or a bathroom door.

5. I have so much love from my friends, family, colleagues and partner. Just knowing this keeps me going through hard times.

Also,

6. No worries.

It's a phrase that falls from my lips at least once a day, partly because it has become my automatic response to all of life's mishaps, but mostly because I truly believe in the wisdom of letting go of what things we can't, shouldn't and don't need to control.

I depart this weekend for three months of intensive training, so for now, no news is good news!

Without Gender

Салам! бул Кыргыз тили.

Street signs, newspapers, friendly banter and Beware of Dog... every day, I'm deluged with symbols and sounds that tell me what to do, where to go and how to respond. Without language, I'd be lost. Gestures convey a lot of information, sure, but try explaining modal auxiliary verbs with nothing but your fingers.

As a Peace Corps volunteer, I'll be teaching English in a secondary school. I'm pretty confident in my expertise on the subject, being a native speaker and a writer by trade. But abroad? I'll need to master a new language. If I can't buy an onion at the market, I can't expect to hold a very meaningful conversation with my colleagues.

The Kyrgyz Republic has two official languages: Kyrgyz and Russian. The latter is spoken mainly in cities and in business. I've been studying both. In Russian, as in the Romance languages, all words are masculine, feminine or neuter. It distinguishes between men and women in most roles, e.g. businessman vs businesswoman. In Kyrgyz, however, there is only one word for he, she and it. There is no designation of a "chair" as male or female, as if an inanimate object has genitalia. Just one pronoun. So far, I haven't noticed many words beyond "mother" and "father" that explicitly assign gender to a person. As someone interested in sociolinguistics and gender roles, I'm beginning to fall in love with Kyrgyz.

How does having a genderless language affect society? Does it lead to more equality? Less? Is gender still expressed in some other way? I hope to find out.

I've heard that historically Kyrgyz men and women had fairly equal footing, with everyone participating in activities like horseback riding, hunting and animal husbandry. Today women hold advanced degrees and work in universities, hospitals and nongovernmental organizations, but they are also expected to marry early, raise children and tend the household more than men.

So maybe language isn't a strong influence on culture. But just for fun - what if English had no words for he or she, or man or woman? How would it change the way you interact with people on a daily basis? Would it matter if you had a waiter or a waitress? And why?

I expect a 300 page essay exploring this theme from every one of you. Annnd... go!

;)

p.s.
To the extent of my small knowledge, the intro says, "Hi! This is the Kyrgyz language." Please correct me if I'm wrong.