Oink, Buubuu, Groin
Plahf
by Charlie Geer
In high-school language classes we learn that barnyard animals, like people, speak different languages throughout the world. Take the common pig, for example. While an American pig will oink oink, a Japanese pig will buubuu. French swine converse with a brusque groin groin, whereas Chinese swine favor a more melodious hu-lu hu-lu. For fun with the whole menagerie, check out these international animal sounds.
Curiously enough — and mercifully for undergraduate American piglets looking to satisfy core language requirements — here in Spain pigs speak with a familiar oink oink. Whether the oink originated in Spain, the United Kingdom, or the United States is a matter of dispute: no sooner does one group take credit for coining the oink than the other two denounce oinking as yet another alarming example of globalization gone wild. In any case, British and American pigs vacationing in Spain find it easy enough to communicate with their Spanish hosts, even if the same cannot always be said for their human counterparts.
This is all good fun for a bit, but in the end it’s just kind of silly, because everybody knows that, like their barnyard brethren, piglets around the world all learn to speak a universal language, which language consists mostly of guttural grunting that can range in tone from cute and snuggly to shrill and murderous. Point being that, contrary to what language textbooks might suggest, if you put a French pig, a Japanese pig, and an American pig in a pen together, they won’t have any trouble communicating with each other. Any misunderstandings that arise are sure to be cultural — shall we garnish today’s slop with béchamel, sakura sauce, or ranch dressing? — and not linguistic.
chah-CHAHHHHN!
If the expressions of my Spanish friend Concha are any guide, the same cannot necessarily be said for magicians. Not that Concha is a magician — although she does do unbelievable things with paella — it’s just that whenever I might expect her to say “tah-DAHHH!” — e.g. when she presents a paella — she says “chah-CHAHHHHN!”. Presumably, then, a Spanish magician won’t tah-DAH when he pulls a rabbit out of a hat. He’ll chah-CHAHN. Similarly, where I might use “buhms” and “bahms” to represent musical riffs, Concha will use “chuhns” and “chahns”. If for some reason I am referencing the opening phrase of Beethoven’s Fifth, for example, it will go a little something like this: “bahm-bahm-bahm-bahmmmmmmm.” If for some reason Concha is referencing the opening phrase of Beethoven’s Fifth, it will sound more like this: “chahn-chahn-chahn-chahnnnnnn.”
In Spain, librarians and fed-up teachers don’t shhhhhhh, they sssssssssss. The first time I heard a Spanish librarian shush a wayward patron — “sss! sss! sss!” — I didn’t know she was shushing a wayward patron. I thought she was trying, unsuccessfully, to teach herself to whistle.
Again using Concha’s expressions as a guide, Spanish bird-crap doesn’t go “splat” when it lands on your windshield, it goes “plahf”. Same with a Spanish egg when it falls to the kitchen floor. “Plahf.” And while American alarm clocks go BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!, Spanish alarm clocks go PEEN! PEEN! PEEN! PEEN!
For the record, the language of alarm clocks translates easily. That is to say, PEEN! PEEN! PEEN! PEEN! is just as outrageous a sound at the break of day as BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! When it comes to cruelly wrenching a body out of heavenly slumber, either one will do just fine.
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Charlie Geer is the author of the novel “Outbound: The Curious Secession of Latter-Day Charleston.” His work has appeared in Tin House, The Sun, Bloomsbury Magazine, and The Southern Review.
