THE AMA-SUFFIX, THE VALENTINE'S CARD AND THE TALL MERCEDES-BENZ OF A MAN
Tessa Dowling

The Sunday Independent
February 26 2006

There was a huge commotion at Mzoli's the other day. Thandi (full name: Thandeka = Loveable) said that Thandi (full name: Thandiswa = Caused to be loved) had told Thandi (full name: Thandiwe = Has been loved) that Thandi (full name: Thandanani = Love one another) had taken a Valentine's card meant for her.

"But how do we know who it was for? It just said 'Thandi'!"

Being an umlungu who has studied African languages to such a level people call you "udokotela" (Doc), I was happily able to inform my friends that -isw-, -iw- and -anan- are all verbal extensions and that the full versions of their respective names used them. It was when they chopped the extensions off that the confusion came in.

"Extensions?" Thandi No1 touched her head with her bright pink nails. "It's true, I do need extensions."

"No sisi," I sighed. "No sisi, these extensions are the things that go at the ends of verbs to change their meanings. They're one of the most fascinating features of African languages."

"Owukeyi!," Thandi No 2 suddenly saw the light: "They're called ama-suffix! I once knew a guy who was very into them, personally."

She told us about Boemo, her Setswana-speaking carpenter friend, who had taught his new apprentice Rodney how to speak Setswana on the job in just five minutes flat.

Boemo said, "Rodney my broer, you just need to understand one Setswana word, my man, when we assemble this cupboard today. Just one word. And that is kurufa."

"Nei, man, but that sounds like 'screw' in Afrikaans," quipped Rodney.

"Of course, it comes from the Afrikaans skroef. Please take notes, my broer - you are mos just gonna plak a few things onto the end of that one word to make a whole lot of new words and Zuma's your uncle - you'll speak fluently."

And seemingly Rodney took notes while Boemo chanted out, "Kurufa = screw, kurufisa = help screw, kurufisana = help one another screw, kurufolleha = become unscrewed, kurufisisa = screw intensively, kurufshwa = be screwed, kurufaka = screw with abandon."

There was a lot of underhand sniggering and innuendos from the blokes at the table closest to the bar, but Thandi was in full swing. "Hey, nina (you all)! To the pure, all things are pure! Suka!" She turned back to our Setswana lesson.

"You know, according to Boemo, the way uRodney was screwing and unscrewing and screwing with abandon, you could tell he completely understood that one word and all those extensions." (Boemo apparently gave up making cupboards in 1994 and is now a Setswana teacher. He teaches the language in a wide range of lengths, thicknesses and exclusive finishes.)

Thandi No 3 sighed happily at the end of this story. "That's the beauty of African languages, they make their words work!"

"By the way," said Thandi (aka Thandiswa), warming to the subject of vernacular vocabulary as she warmed her inside with another of Mzoli's best, "did you know that in isiZulu there are 224 ways of describing how a person walks?"

She was right. The Zulus have one word that means "shuffle along with the buttocks drawn in" and another that perfectly describes the walk of someone squelching through mud.

Yet another means "totter with age or weakness" and there are numerous ones that describe the walk of the slightly tipsy or very drunk. You see, language tells you so much about the culture, and walking is as important to the Zulus as fishing is to the coastal Swahilis.

Suddenly a gorgeous Mercedez Benz of a man, who had been eavesdropping our conversation, approached Thandi and bowed romantically, so his eyes were level with her dimpled knees. He whispered, "If you know what hamba nofo means, I'll buy you a drink and let you unscrew my locked-up heart."

"Nofo! Of course I know what it means to walk nofo! Didn't I grow up in the lush green hills of KwaZulu-Natal? Didn't I let my young, bare feet bounce over the verdant springy grass? There is one word to describe that walk: nofo!"

"Aha!" There was a collective sigh of appreciation. The tall, gorgeous man who walked with the stride of a long-legged person (dwayi) beamed and kissed her hand, "Heyi sisi, you are the strongest link."

Afterwards Thandi told the other Thandis she was a bit disappointed by his response. "Huh! Using a catchphrase from an SABC quiz show! So western! I thought at least he would praise me in deep, deep isiZulu."

"And what is the moral of your story?" Thandi No1's question was clearly rhetorical, so we waited for her answer. She was smacking her lips as she downed her last Breezer and walked slightly unsteadily (phuba) to the ladies' loo. "The moral is ..." - she looked boldy around the gathered clientele - "Don't expect too much from a Zulu man with a good walking word."

Tessa Dowling is a director of African Voices. She says: "Knowledge of screwing in Setswana derives indirectly from work done by the Tswana scholar, Desmond T Cole."