That is NOT what I said

I like to talk. I have been in Madagascar for over two years. My daily life and my work is conducted in Malagasy. Put two and two together, and that’s a lot of words spoken in Malagasy. 

However, speaking words doesn’t necessarily mean doing it correctly. I still make people laugh, and those that talk with me often know just where my limit is. No one here has ever heard me truly angry in Malagasy, because I don’t know how. Often things become simplified: a speech to our volunteer team for environmental education expressing my profound gratitude becomes more like “thanks, it was nice.”

Despite all of this, there is a funny thing that happens. Regional dialects in Madagascar are very significantly different from each other. I speak a mix of two, Betsimisaraka-Atsimo and Merina. Frequently, I say something to Person A in my special Gasy. Person B partially overhears our conversation, and asks for it to be repeated. Person A then repeats the meaning, but in perfect dialect one way or the other, adding how impressive it is that I speak just like them. Now person A and B both think I speak their dialect, but they have just added 10 words to my vocabulary that I’ve never said in my life.

My favorite mistake: There were some Swiss tourists, and one was a doctor. They visited a woman in my area who has been bedridden for three years with a serious back problem (something with the discs). She is the Pastor’s daughter. They left some medicine for me to pass along, just some pain killers and vitamins. I wanted to translate the directions from English to Malagasy, so I asked a friend for assistance, because immune system was not a word I knew.

Me: “This is a vitamin to help her sell herself”

Him: “What? What do you mean to help her sell herself?”

Me: “You know, when you are sick, and your body has to sell itself to get better!”

Him “Ah. Elsie, I think you mean protecting yourself, not selling yourself.”

Oops. Fivarotan-tena ≠ Fiarovan-tena