beared (contd)

In my previous blog (here), I discussed the Guardian on-line edition which included the headline:

Osborne warns cuts will have to be beared

Later in the day, this headline was changed. Look at the new version:I guess it wasn't just me who noticed the use of the non-standard beared.

It is interesting to note, however, that the headline writer has still baulked at using born, and has chosen to use an active structure instead, even though this makes the headline rather hard to understand. To me, it would be best as:

Osborne warns cuts will have to be born

In the past, The Guardian was notorious for its typographical errors, and Private Eye always referred to it as The Grauniad (the joke being that they couldn't even spell their own name correctly).

But whether we regard beared as the sort of error that The Guardian is famed for, or as an innovative usage that avoids the irregular verb form born, it is still indicative of the kind of regularising change taking place all the time in English.

beared

This is from the front page of the Guardian on-line news for 20 June 2010:Note the use of beared, where traditionally we would say born. If enough people use beared rather than born, then beared will become the standard past participle of bear.

This is a process of regularisation, where irregular forms slowly get replaced by regular ones. Once, dove was the past tense form of dive, but now most people say dived instead, because dived is regular.

I have previously noted that English usage in places such as Brunei and Singapore might be contributing to this process of language change through regularisation (e.g. here, here and here). But of course this process occurs in places such as the UK and USA as well, and it is even evident in respected newspapers such as The Guardian.

Street Theatre

One of the things I appreciated while in Cambridge these past two weeks was the lively street life. All along King's Parade and in the Market Place, there are musicians, jugglers, and various other artists doing their thing and trying to earn a bit of cash. Some of them are good, some are original, some are funny, and some of them are, well, less talented. But it all adds to the fun.

What is it that makes one act better than the others? Or more original? Or funnier? See this picture of someone playing his guitar from the inside of a litter bin: As you can see, lots of people thought this was hilarious, and they stopped to take photos and throw a few coins.

But why was this idea any better than the other acts? Why did passers-by find it so original? Indeed, I contributed some coins, and the guitarist seemed to be doing rather well.

I guess it's not fair to compare this sort of street theatre with the absence of anything similar in Brunei. For one thing, it would be too hot. Furthermore, I can't imagine people in Brunei finding an act like this particularly funny. If they saw someone trying to play a guitar from inside a litter bin, they would just think he was crazy.

So, what is it that makes something funny? I have no answer to that.

Grandma

One feature about Oliver's learning of language is how he clings to forms that he is convinced are right. He can learn new words quickly, so when we were playing a game of skittles, he learned missed immediately. But once he has a word for something, he is unwilling to change.

When his little sister was born four months ago, his maternal grandmother came and stayed for a while, and he calls her popo. Now we are staying, and he is convinced that his paternal grandmother is also popo. We have tried to persuade him that she is grandma; but he won't have any of it, and he keeps on calling her popo. I'm not sure he has realised that they are two different people. Do they really look alike?His Grandma is on the left, and his Popo is on the right. Maybe we need to get them both here together so he can learn to differentiate between them.

Strawberries / Mouth

This is Oliver, indicating he wants a strawberry in his mouth. The value of having videos to accompany a recording is that you can (usually) work out what he is saying. In the absence of pictures, that would be tough, particularly as strawberry is pronounced as [dʒaˈbi].I have transcribed a 90 second video, and in it he says the following words:

   strawberry [dʒaˈbi]
   mouth [maʊf]
   bee [biː]
   flower [fawə]
   race [ræʃ]
   Mummy eat [mʌmi iʔ]
   boing [bæɪŋ]
   turtle [tətu]
   car race [kɑː ræʃ]

Note the two-word utterances here. We can be sure that they are two-word utterances, not fixed phrases, because mummy, eat, car, and race all occur independently.

One puzzle is why there is an [f] at the end of mouth but not at the end of off, which is pronounced as [ɒʃ], as I mentioned in my previous blog (here). It seems hard to explain this on the basis of phoneme occurrence. Maybe we need to treat words as the basic unit of phonology, and the pronunciation of each word can be unpredictable.

Oliver's Words (contd)

I have previously discussed some of the early words spoken by my grandson, Oliver (here). I am now in the UK, so I am able to play with him every day and at the same time to collect data on his speech.

He is now at the two-word stage, with a few utterances of three or more words; and I will try to provide an analysis of what he says over the next few blogs.

Of course, it is never possible to collect everything, and inevitably, the most interesting utterances occur when you are not recording. But still, I will try and provide an analysis of the recordings I have made.

Analysis of child language raises some interesting questions. Among these are:

• What is he saying? Sometimes even his parents aren't too sure about some of the words he says.
• What is a word? Clearly, allgone is a single lexical item for him, even if the adult equivalent is two words. But what about a phrase like shoes off? This is a fixed phrase that he says quite often, so maybe it also is one item, not two.
• How much variation is there? He says off as [ɒʃ], but is it always the same?
• He has [f] at the start of flower [fawə]; so why not at the end of off? Does pronunciation depend on syllables, so initial consonants are completely different from finals?

Irony

In the last line of my previous post (here), I suggested that words always "tell the simple truth". I intended this to be ironic. In other words, I was saying exactly the reverse of what I actually believe.

The trouble with irony is that people are apt to misunderstand it. There was recently a splendid rant (here) by a chap called Greg Laden, arguing that of course it is possible to count how many words there are in a language (something I discussed previously here), and anyone who thinks the opposite is a fool. But in writing this piece, he completely destroyed his own argument by inventing lots of new words, like curmudgeonistic, pedanticmaniacal, and jibberishosity. Now, if it is so easy to invent new words like that and still be understood, how can one possibly obtain a finite figure for the number of words in a language?

Of course, Greg Laden was being ironic: he knows perfectly well that the definition of a word can be quite elusive. Unfortunately, if you read the comments below his blog, and also some of the comments in the Language Log discussion of it (here), it seems that quite a few people missed the irony and took him seriously. In the end, someone called Nick Lamb helpfully spelled this out in one of the comments in the Language Log discussion.

In reality, language is rarely straightforward, and we often have to dig under the surface to determine the real meaning of what people say and write. I just hope that not too many people misunderstood my statement that words always tell the simple truth.

The Accuracy of Pictures

Here's a picture taken from the forest trail between Tasek Lama and Markucing.It seems to show a traditional-style house nestling in the forested hills. But actually, that is not accurate.

Here's what the same building looks like from the other side. In fact, it is a huge building. It is the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Brunei, and we can just see the top of it from the forest trail.Pictures often deceive us. Unlike words, of course, which just tell the simple truth.

pantun

Today I looked up pantun in my Malay-English dictionary. The English definition is given as: 'pantun'. Not very helpful!

I know that pantun is some kind of Malay verse; but it would have helped if the dictionary had offered a bit of explanation.

I guess this dictionary is really meant for Malays who are learning English. Even so, I think it might have offered something more useful, as it seems to be suggesting that pantun is a word in English.

Mass Hysteria

Sometimes you can understand all the words in a text and still have no idea what is going on.

On page 1 of the Media Permata of 18 May, there was a story about mass hysteria breaking out in some junior and middle schools in Brunei. Two causes for this mass hysteria were given: semangat syiling, which was accompanied by the English translation "Spirit of the Coin"; and dirasuk makhluk halus, which literally means 'tempted by thin creatures'. This all left me quite bewildered.

I asked my colleagues to explain, and apparently semangat syiling involves some kind of ritual with menstrual blood and spinning a coin; and dirasuk makhluk halus means being possessed by evil spirits. But, to be honest, I still don't get where the mass hysteria comes from.

I guess there are some things in this country that I'll never understand.

carefully

This is part of the warning sign on the entrance to the steps to the observation tower at Tasek Lama. The translation is almost word-for-word, particularly with the use of the adverb carefully being translated directly from the Malay berhati-hati.It is rare to see such poorly written English on public signs in Brunei, as usually the standard of English on signs is pretty good. And it is surprising that so much was spent making this sign without getting the English checked first.

No Durians

Here's a sign I saw on the entrance to a hotel in the town of Limbang, in Sarawak (Malaysia). It means: No Durians.

It's a sign I have seen many times in Singapore but never in Brunei. I'm not sure why. One of my colleagues tells me it's because Bruneians love the smell of durians, so they wouldn't want to stop people bringing them into a building. I remain unconvinced.

The word durian is interesting. It is from Malay, and the root of the word is duri ('spike'). So it means 'spiky thing', which makes sense.

We might also note that the Mandarin Chinese for 'durian' is 留連 (liúlián), which is a borrowing from Malay. I don't know of any other words borrowed from Malay into Mandarin.

menipis

I have previously mentioned problems finding words in a Malay dictionary (here) and also apparent anomolies in the way my dictionary lists some items, particularly double listing of some words (here).

One reason for pointing out anomolies is that they can be quite revealing about the structure of the language. So here is the puzzle for today: what is the root of the word menipis ('to get thinner')? Is it tipis or nipis, both of which are listed in my dictionary as meaning 'thin'?

The first of these, tipis, is a much more common word; but the second, nipis, does exist, as in limau nipis ('lime'). Also in an article on page 1 of the Media Permata of 29 May, the new Apple iPad is described as "tablet hitam nipis" ('a thin black tablet').

So, back to the puzzle. What is the root of menipis? The answer according to my dictionary is: both! The word menipis is listed twice, once under tipis and again under nipis.

One way to resolve which of these is correct is to find out what the passive form would be: ditipiskan or dinipiskan? (My UBD colleague Adrian Clynes tells me that the -kan transitive suffix is necessary for this to work.) I'll try to find a suitable way to phrase that as a question to present to my Malay colleagues.

Missing Flag

Have a look at my flags on the right. Personally, I find them really pretty, and I try to make sure I know which country each one represents.

The largest contingent of visitors is from Brunei (as one would expect). Then there are plenty from Singapore, the USA, Malaysia, the UK, and the Philippines. There are also quite a few from Australia, Canada, Indonesia, Germany, Norway, Japan, India, Korea, ... all of which is splendid.

Do you see one country that is missing? OK, so there's nobody from Myanmar, even though there are some from Vietnam, Thailand, Cambodia, and Laos (all the rest of ASEAN). But there's nothing too surprising about the absence of Myanmar. So which big country is missing? Not too many from Russia, Brazil or Nigeria, but there are a few in there.

So what is the major country that is absent? The answer, of course, is China. Nobody from China has ever visited my site, even though I have taught exchange students from China. I asked them to try accessing it when they got back home; and they confirm the site is blocked!

I'd love to claim that my writing has been banned in China, as that would be brilliant for marketing. But the reality is that everything hosted by Google is blocked.

Now, I admit that failure to read my ramblings is not the end of the world; but I wonder, how much else are people from China prevented from accessing?

tangga

This is part of the sign on the entry to the observation tower at Tasek Lama:It would be more usual in English to refer to steps rather than stairs or staircase.

We might consider this issue a bit further. In Malay, there is just one term: tangga. In contrast, in English there are two terms: stairs if they are inside a building; and steps if they are outside. We can say that Malay only has the superordinate (more general term), while English only has the hyponyms (more specific terms).

Of course, it can work the other way round, as with padi/beras/nasi in Malay compared to rice in English (something I have discussed before here).

Superordinate/hyponym differences such as this can easily give rise to problems in translation.

Actually, there are some other differences in the two versions on the sign. A literal translation of the Malay would be: "It is forbidden to run when climbing up or down the steps of the tower". I'm not sure why the English version is so much shorter, though certainly the contrast is not quite as large as in other signs I have seen (e.g. here).

Tasek Lama

I know I've shown a similar picture before; but this view of BSB from the path up the hill from Tasek Lama ('Long Lake') is really quite stunning.
It is an extraordinary privilege to live in a capital city where every morning I can go for a walk in the forest just five minutes away from my home and see a view like this.

kompaun / compound

The Malay word kompaun means "an on-the-spot fine", for example an immediate fine for speeding or dumping rubbish illegally. It appears to come from the English word compound, but with a substantial shift in meaning.

According to Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary, one of the meanings of compound is "to agree for a consideration not to prosecute", and presumably this is the origin of the Malay kompaun. However, this must be an archaic use of the word in English, as I have never heard it used in that way.

What is interesting is that the word compound, as in 'prison compound', is probably derived from the Malay word kampung ('village'), though again we note a substantial shift in meaning, as it does not refer to a village when used in 'prison compound'.

So we have compound being borrowed into English from the Malay kampung, and at the same time we have kompaun coming from English compound. Quite a splendid example of bidirectional borrowing!

Signs in Tasek Lama

There was recently a tree-planting ceremony in Tasek Lama, in BSB.

When I saw the signs next to the newly-planted trees, I thought they were helpfully showing their botanical names, just like those in Bukit Mentiri (here).

However, closer inspection revealed that each sign actually indicates the name of a VIP who graced the occasion and planted the tree. Very Bruneian that, to show proper respect to important people.

Even more Bruneian is the fact that all the trees on the left of the road were planted by male dignitaries, and those on the right were planted by women. So there was no danger of inappropriate mixing of the sexes, even when planting trees.

Forbidden Food

This is the sign at the entrance to Tasek Lama Park in BSB:The Malay says: "It is not allowed for any kind of food to be brought into the park."

I'm not quite sure why the Malay version is so explicit while the English is so terse. Does stating it in more words make it more effective in Malay? For the English version, does the succinct nature of the message make it more effective? If so, why would there be this difference?

Or perhaps it is felt that it is best to keep the English version short in case some people do not have very good English.

Teenage Pregnancy

In my previous posting (here), I commented on doubtful statistics in newspaper headlines.

Of course, this issue is not only found in Brunei newspapers ― newspapers throughout the world are notorious for their dubious use of statistics. Here's a classic headline from a newspaper in the USA:

104.9%

I sometimes find the use of statistics in newspapers (and elsewhere) troubling. Here is a headline from an article on page 1 of the Media Permata of 13 May 2010:This can be translated as "The rate of mobile phone use in Brunei is 104.9%".

104.9%? OK, so I know what it means: for every 100 people, there are 104.9 mobile phones, which means that some people have more than one. (Why people need more than one mobile phone beats me, but let's leave that one alone.)

What troubles me is this: suppose the usage was 40%. Then we might assume this meant that 4 out of every 10 people had a mobile phone; and we probably would not think it meant that 3 out of every 10 had one but some people had two. So at what point does the percentage figure change, to include the possibility of double ownership?

I do think that percentage figures over 100% are misleading.

thought / taught

I was recently reading a book (written by Edison John) about Racha Umong, a member of the Lun Bawang tribe from eastern Sarawak state who become a Christian pastor and was eventally elected as a state and then a federal representative of his people. The book is nicely written, and it has few grammatical flaws; but I was momentarily caught out by the following, about the guidance that Racha received from his father Umong:Presumably, thought is a mistake for taught.

This error is easy to explain: in Malaysian English (as well as the English of Brunei and Singapore), there is often no distinction made between /θ/ and /t/, so words like three and think are regularly pronounced with [t] at the start. As a result, thought and taught are likely to be homophones, and writers may get confused between the two.

This conflation of /θ/ and /t/ is reinforced by borrowings into Malay: terapi ('therapy'), teori ('theory'), tema ('theme'), and metanol ('methanol') are all written with 't' rather than 'th' and are pronounced with [t], so it is not surprising if these words also get pronounced with [t] in the English spoken in Malaysia.

One might note that distinguishing between /θ/ and /t/ helps people to avoid errors in their writing. On the other hand, there are plenty of homophones that writers need to learn to distinguish, such as there and their (which lots and lots of people around the world confuse all the time), so perhaps adding a few more is not such a big issue. Furthermore, failure to distinguish between /θ/ and /t/ is so common in this region that it is doubtful if it causes too many conversational misunderstandings.

and / or

This is part of the announcement the Chief Invigilator makes at the start of exams at UBD:

You are not allowed to leave the examination hall during the first 30 minutes and the last 30 minutes of an examination.

I could be really pedantic and say that this means that you can leave during the first 30 minutes or you can leave during the last 30 minutes just as long as you don't do both.

The traditional rule in Standard English is that "not X and Y" means you can't do both X and Y, though doing one of them and not the other is fine. In contrast, "not X or Y" means that you are not allowed to do X and you are also not allowed to do Y. (I have mentioned this before, in connection with "No shoes and slippers" here.) Presumably, the intended meaning of the announcement is that both X and Y are against the rules, so according to the traditional rule, it should be or rather than and.

But is it really true that the exam announcement is badly formed? I suspect that only a few linguists and other pedants like me might notice anything noteworthy about it; and virtually everyone else, both expatriates and Bruneians alike, will understand it perfectly well without batting an eyelid.

I previously argued that "not X and Y" to mean "neither X nor Y" is becoming the norm in World Englishes. This announcement is a good illustration of how this pattern can be used with no problem at all.

Exam Food

It is exam time at UBD. Are we the only university in the world that provides food for its invigilators? Do they think we might starve to death or something?Actually, I rather enjoy the opportunity to chat to colleagues from other faculties while taking a break from invigilating an exam, so perhaps the provision of food for invigilators does achieve something useful.

However, given the figure of 55% of government employees in Brunei reported to be obese, I wonder if we really be should be offered curry puffs. Wouldn't it be better if we were given some fruit?

can test

This is a sign in a well-known video store in Gadong:In standard English, many people might regard this as ill-formed, as the finite verb can requires a subject. However, things are not actually so simple. In fact, there are quite a few finite clauses even in standard English that do not have a subject.

First, there are imperatives. For example, "Stand up" and "Come here" are both perfectly well formed, but neither has an overt subject.

Next, expressives often omit the subject. For instance, "Hope to see you soon" is a formal expressive that has no subject.

Then with ellipsis, it is possible for the subject to be omitted in conjoined clauses. In "John finished his meal and then went home", the second clause has no subject, because it has undergone ellipsis.

Finally, diary style often omits subjects: "Got up, ate breakfast."

With so many exceptions, it is not surprising if the possibility of a subjectless clause gets extended to "Can test here", especially in new varieties of English in places such as Brunei. In fact, I suspect this kind of sign might also sometimes occur in the UK and USA. So perhaps it is not so ungrammatical after all.

Word Order

Have a look at the word order in the full name of the Bukit Shahbandar park in both English and Malay:If we treat Bukit Shahbandar as a name so it is a single entity, then the order of the elements in Malay is the exact reverse of those in English: park is last in English but taman is first in Malay; recreation is second from the end in English but rekreasi is second from the start in Malay; and forest is immediately before recreation in English but hutan is immediately after rekreasi in Malay.

This reflects the fact that Malay is a head-first language: the head of a noun phrase (in this case taman) occurs at the start of the phrase, and all modifiers occur after it.

In contrast, this seems to suggest that English is head-last, with modifiers occurring before the head of the noun phrase, in this case the noun park.

Unfortunately, things are not quite so simple. In fact, English is usually classified as head-first, because in noun phrases such as the following, the head noun is at the start. (The head of each phrase is shown in red while the modifying clause or phrase is in blue.)

books which I have read
discussion of that issue
students sitting at the front
objects left in the room

The difference here is that the modifying elements are not just single words but are rather longer elements. I always think that English should be classified as end-weight: long things (such as relative clauses or prepositional phrases) come after the head but short things (single-word modifiers) come before the head.

Malay is rather simpler: the head of a noun phrase always comes at the start, and all modifiers come after it, regardless of whether they are long or short.

Mixing On-Line

BruDirect offers an on-line discussion forum that stimulates considerable freedom in expression, both in terms of content and style, partly because contributors generally adopt a pseudonym which means they can remain anonymous. I have discussed the extent of English/Malay mixing in BruDirect before (here).

Recent changes in the rules concerning credit cards have given rise to lots of discussion on BruDirect. Below is a contribution on 24 March 2010 (here) by someone using the pseudonym orang bawah ('subordinate person'). (I have attempted to show the Malay items in red, though some such as bank are ambiguous, as it is both a word in English and a borrowed word in Malay.)

apalah urg mempost ani….bank masih mencharge ‘2% interest’ every month lah….8% atu minimum payments lah until june…

i know some banks ada yg mempush dulu suruh tani apply credit card…but honestly, bukan salah bank…its us, tau dah duit dalam ‘credit card’ atu duit pinjam, ngapa d garut sampai panuh? well nobody is perfect…even i learn from all of this…

This might be translated as:

Which person posted this ... banks still charge 2% interest every month, and those 8% minimum payments are until June.

I know there are some banks which have pushed in the past to get us to apply for credit cards, but honestly it's not the fault of banks. It's us, for we already know that money on a credit card is borrowed money, so why is it swiped till it's full? Well nobody is perfect. Even I learn from all of this.

In addition to observing the extent of mixing between English and Malay, we can note the following:

• there's considerable SMS-style abbreviation, with urg an abbreviation for urang ('person'), yg instead of yang ('which'), and d an abbreviation for the passive di prefix
• there's quite a lot of Brunei Malay, so urg (urang, 'person') is used rather than the Standard Malay orang, and ani ('this') and atu ('that') occur instead of the Standard Malay ini and itu
• the Malay meN- prefix is added to English words: mempost, mencharge, menpush

(My thanks to my UBD colleagues Ayla and Adrian for help in analysing this.)

Repetition

Malay seems to favour repetition, something I have mentioned before (here), where I suggested it may be a rhetorical device to achieve emphasis.

On page 1 of the Media Permata of 4 May 2010, I saw this:

... e-mail yang dihantar itu adalah palsu dan tidak benar.

which might be literally translated as "the email that was sent is false and not true". Surely false and not true mean exactly the same thing!

In the English written by people in Brunei, we similarly often see this kind of repetition. For example, a student recently sent me the draft of a research proposal where she plans to "compare and contrast" different styles of speech, even though the meaning of compare and contrast is almost identical.

In writing English, it is best to find some other way to achieve emphasis. Maybe in the "email" example above, a good translation into English might be "the email that was sent is definitely false".

However, in the "compare and contrast" example, there seems little need to emphasise the issue, so it might be better to use one of the words on its own.

bonet

Here is a picture from page 2 of the Media Permata of 3 May, 2010.The caption under the picture might be translated as: "Fragrant rice which was found in the bonnet of a car and which it is believed was being smuggled out of Brunei to a neighbouring country, but which was seized in an operation that took place yesterday."

The trouble with this is that the rice is clearly in the back of the car, and in British English we call this the boot rather than the bonnet (Americans call it the trunk rather than the hood). It seems that in Brunei bonet can unexpectedly refer to the back of the car rather than the front.

We can call this a faux amis (or 'false friend'): you think you know the meaning of a word, but in fact you don't.

A faux amis can occur when a word is borrowed from one language into another and then it undergoes a shift in meaning. A classic example is the French word librarie, which looks like it means 'library' but in fact means 'bookshop'. The word was borrowed from French into English and then its meaning shifted, and it is not surprising if this can lead to confusion for English learners of French and also for French learners of English.

My Brunei Malay dictionary confirms that bunit (the Brunei equivalent of bonet) indeed refers to the back of the car, though I am not sure if this shift in meaning is only found in Brunei or if it is also true for the Malay spoken in Malaysia and Singapore.

Blue Eyes

This is the picture accompanying an article on the front page of the Media Permata of 26 April 2010. It shows a local fellow called Ahmad with his grandson, who rather surprisingly has blue eyes.The article discusses the issue, including the fact that there is no history of mixed blood in the family. But what caught my eye was the final paragraph:

Ahmad berkata, ibu cucunya itu ... semasa hamil gemar bermain dengan seekor kucing peliharaan mereka yang bermata biru.

which can be translated as "Ahmad said that, while the mother of his grandson was pregnant, she liked to play with their pet cat whose eyes are blue."

The idea that a pregnant woman playing with a blue-eyed cat could result in her baby having blue eyes seems to reflect a particularly Malay outlook on the world.

aircond

While in Limbang, I saw this sign. Note the 'd' on the end of aircond.Abbreviating words is very common in English. (In linguistics, we call it 'clipping'.) For example, bus comes from autobus, fridge comes from refrigerator, and flu comes from influenza.

In this part of the world, air-conditioner is also nearly always shortened. However, in Brunei and Singapore, it usually becomes aircon, with no final 'd'.

But in Limbang, the extra 'd' seems to be the norm − I saw it not just on this sign but on two others as well. I'm not sure why people in Limbang (and maybe elsewhere in Malaysia?) use this slightly longer version.

It probably makes no difference to the pronunciation, as I expect the [d] would not actually occur in speech. But some other variant clippings do affect the word quite substantially. When we first moved to Singapore many years ago, my wife made a mistake with the abbreviation of condominium. This is usually shortened to condo, but she included a final [m], which is a bit unfortunate.

Luckily, the presence or absence of a final [d] on aircon(d) does not have such consequences.

Throwing Rubbish

Opposite the Maggie Cafe on the bank of the Limbang River, I saw this sign, which tells you in three different languages not to throw rubbish, or face a fine of $500.

The first and third of these languages are not surprising: Malay (given that Limbang is in Malaysia and many of its inhabitants are Malays); and Chinese (seeing as there are lots of Chinese people in the town of Limbang).

But the second language is more unusual: Iban. I have never seen Iban written before, though I am told there are some books and magazines published in the language.

It is encouraging to see some official support for the Iban language, even if it is only an admonishment not to throw rubbish.

Sunset in Limbang

I just went for a brief trip to Limbang, the small town located in the strip of Sarawak (Malaysia) that separates the two parts of Brunei. Here is a view of the sunset over the Limbang River.This reminds me of a picture I took a few years ago in Vientiane (Laos) of the sun setting over the Mekong River.One notable difference is that lots of people were gathered to watch the sunset over the Mekong, with stalls set up to sell snacks and drinks; but only my wife and I paid any attention to the beautiful sunset in Limbang. Even though there are plenty of restaurants along the side of the river, nobody seems to have any interest in the spectacular colours in the evening sky. I guess most visitors to Limbang are more interested in the nightlife that starts later in the evening.

Removing one's Shoes

This is a trilingual sign at the entrance to the restaurant of the Merawap Hot Springs resort, near Lawas.The Chinese constitute only about 10 per cent of the population of Lawas, but still the sign includes the message in Chinese characters (something I rarely see in Brunei).

Maybe this is because there are quite a few Chinese guests to the resort, from places such as Taiwan and Mainland China. Indeed, few of the guests are local, so the ethnic balance of the population of Lawas is not really relevant.

Or maybe the Chinese are particularly guilty of failing to remove their shoes when entering a residential building. However, this latter hypothesis seems rather unlikely: it is just as much a Chinese custom to take off one's shoes when entering someone's house as it is in most of the rest of Asia. In fact, the idea of still wearing your shoes, all covered in dust and other muck, when walking around a home seems a particularly bizarre western custom, and there can't be many societies around the world that tolerate it. One might conclude that the sign only really needs to be in English.

So perhaps the inclusion of Chinese characters in the sign is just a courtesy, widening the languages displayed to include as many guests as possible.

Hot Springs

One of the curses of being an academic is that I have to know the background to things. If you take me to botanic gardens, instead of admiring the flowers like ordinary folk, I will spend much of the time learning their names; and in the forest, if you tell me that the trees are dipterocarps, I will want to know that this comes from the Greek: di ('two') + ptero- ('wing') + carp ('fruit'), originating from the two-winged fruit that can spiral down like helicopter blades.

So, in a hot springs resort, I have to find out where the hot water comes from. Fortunately, at the Merawap resort, some chap called Andrew Cullen from Shell Oil wrote a very helpful explanation in the guest book:After finding out that the source is shallow magma at a depth of between one and two kilometres, I was able to enjoy soaking in the water.

What I now don't know is why the water from hot springs is supposed to be so good for the skin. Maybe some medical expert can write that explanation in the guest book some day.

Languages of the Lun Bawang

In my previous post, I mentioned the owner of the Merawap Hot Springs resort, near Lawas. His name is Alfred, and his picture is on the right, standing in the dining room of his resort overlooking the garden.

He told me that his first language is Lun Bawang, his second language is English, and although he can get by in Malay, he is not really very comfortable speaking it. The reason that English is his second language is because all his education was in English, as it was at a time that Sarawak was still a British colony, before it joined the Malaysian Federation.

In contrast, his seven daughters also speak Lun Bawang as their first language, but their second language is Malay, and their English is not quite so good. This is because they all went to school after Sarawak joined the Malaysian Federation, and Malay became the medium of education for all subjects. This seems a common pattern in Malaysia, where the younger generation often do not speak English as well as their parents, but they are all quite proficient in Malay even if it is not their home language.

Merarap Hot Springs

I just spent two days at the Merarap Hot Springs resort in Sarawak (Malaysia), halfway between Lawas (on the coast) and Ba'kelalan (near Bario). Very relaxing and enjoyable.The people who live in the region call themselves the Lun Bawang, and their language is closely related to that of the Kelabit who live in and around Bario.

In an earlier post (here), I referred to them as the Lundayeh people and also suggested that those who live near the coast, in Lawas and Limbang, are called Murut. However, the owner of the Merarap Hot Springs resort insisted that only those who live in Temburung (which is part of Brunei) are called the Murut. Those in Lawas (where they are the largest group, constituting 45% of the population) and also in Limbang (where they are a rather smaller minority, at 10% of the total) all refer to themselves as Lun Bawang. He seemed to be pretty knowledgeable about local things, so I'll take his word for it.

In fact, Wikipedia (here) suggests that the term Lundayeh is more commonly used for those who live over the state border in Sabah. I don't always trust Wikipedia, but this time it concurs with what my informant told me.

pokok

In an earlier blog (here), I mentioned pokok ('tree') in the phrase gaji pokok ('basic wage') and suggested that the logic of this phrase is hard to work out. One possibility is that pokok in fact has two distinct meanings: 'tree' and 'basic'. Evidence in support of this comes from the existence of the word pokoknya ('basically').

If this is the case, we might further ask if pokok is a polyseme (a word with distinct but related meanings) or two homonyms (words that are pronounced and written the same even though there is no link between them).

For example, in English foot is a polyseme, as it can refer to part of the body (its core meaning) and also to the lowest part of a mountain (a metaphorical extension of the core meaning). These two meanings are obviously linked. In contrast, bank represents two homonyms, as there is no link between the place to keep money and the side of a river. They are two different words that just happen to be pronounced identically.

So, which is pokok? Is the meaning 'basic' a metaphorical extension of the core meaning 'tree'? My dictionary appears to believe this, as pokoknya ('basically') is listed under pokok ('tree'). In contrast, a word such as pasang has two distinct meanings, 'pair' and 'tide', but they are treated as two homonyms because there is no link between the two meanings. For homonyms such as pasang, the dictionary shows them as separate entries.

Frog Colours

In an earlier blog (here), I discussed the Wallace's Flying Frog I had seen at the UBD Belalong Research Centre in Temburong. Then in a subsequent blog (here), I mentioned the issue again, and I included a picture sent to me by my UBD colleague, Ulmar Grafe.

Something that worried me was that the two pictures looked so different ― the frogs were completely different colours!

Today, I saw a report in the Guardian (here), discussing the Heart of Borneo project and how many different species have been discovered as a result of this project. And in this report, there were two pictures side-by-side of the Walllace's Flying Frog, showing how it changes in colour depending on the time of day:It was nice to see this explanation, but it was also splendid to see how the Heart of Borneo project is being celebrated even in UK national newspapers.

It saddens me how little Bruneians know about their own forest, and how few local people have seen creatures like this or even care about them. But I guess if an initiative like the Heart of Borneo project can work towards protecting these amazing creatures, then that is something to be celebrated.

Disclaimers

This is the Brunei Street Directory, compiled by my UBD colleague, Kazimierz Becek in 2008. It is a splendid resource that often enables me to find where I am going with no problem.

Something I noticed when looking through the book recently was the disclaimers on page 8. The first one might at first glance look a bit surprising:

This set of maps is not an authority on international boundaries.

In fact, this reminds us that the internatonal border between Brunei and Sarawak (Malaysia) is still subject to dispute.

Further down on the same page, we find another disclaimer:

The street maps provided were compiled by Kazimierz Bezek, using data believed to be accurate at the time of publication; however, a degree of error is inherent in all maps. The street maps are distributed "AS-IS" without warranties of any kind, either expressed or implied, including but not limited to warranties of suitability for a particular purpose or use. The maps are intended for use only at the published scale.

This one seems rather more formulaic. Of course, in the modern world, this kind of disclaimer is essential, and this book is just following the expected practice. But what do such disclaimers really achieve?

We seem to be bombarded with such formulaic disclaimers. Sometimes, they are just background noise. When did you ever read through the full conditions before clicking on 'Agree' when you installed a new piece of software? But at other times, they can get a bit irritating. If, for example, you copy the original message when replying to an email message (which makes sense as it ensures the whole conversation is present in the message), you can end up with multiple copies of the same disclaimer, e.g.

This e-mail (and any attachment) is confidential and may also be privileged. It is intended solely for the use of the individual to whom it is addressed. Any views or opinions presented are solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of ..... etc etc etc.

What's the point of all of these words? I'm sure they are necessary for legal reasons, like the warning on a McDonald's coffee cup: "This coffee may be hot", or that on a packet of peanuts: "May contain nuts". (For a discussion of this last one, see Language Log here.) We sometimes seem to be swamped by legalistic, meaningless verbiage.

Fortunately, the disclaimers in the Street Directory are merely background noise, and they do not interfere with the value of the book.

Compound Nouns

Sometimes the components of a compound noun seem to hard to understand.

Malay has lots of compounds. For example, matahari ('sun') is derived from mata ('eye') + hari ('day'), which is easy enough to explain.

Others are a bit more difficult. For instance, kakitangan ('employees', 'staff') is derived from kaki ('feet') + tangan ('hands'). This is a little more obscure, but still the imagery is just about decipherable.

However, there are some where I can't work out the logic. For example, sampah sarap ('general rubbish') is tough. The first part sampah ('rubbish') is OK; but then the second part sarap ('breakfast') seems strange. When I first saw this compound, I thought it referred to discarded breakfast garbage, but in fact there is nothing to do with breakfast in the meaning.

Another one is gaji pokok ('basic wage'). Again, the first part is fine, as gaji means 'wage'. But then pokok means 'tree', and I don't see the link between trees and basic wages.

But in fact, it is not always possible to determine the origin of words and phrases, in English just as much as in Malay. In his delightful website called World Wide Words (here), Micael Quinion discusses the origins of phrases and words, and sometimes he has to admit that we just don't know the origins of some of them. For example, despite plenty of research, he cannot be certain why there is a kangaroo in kangaroo court (here) or a monkey in monkey wrench (here).

Sometimes we just have to accept that some things will probably always remain a mystery.

harmful pesticides

This is the label on the top of a box of strawberries I recently bought at Mabohai Supersave in BSB:I have a couple of questions about this. First, does 'no harmful pesticides' mean "no pesticides were used because they are harmful"? Or does it mean "no harmful pesticides were used, though some harmless ones were used"?

My guess is they want us to believe the former, though the latter seems quite likely. In which case, I am a bit dubious. Pesticides are designed to kill pests ― that is their fundamental role. And it is hard for me to believe that something that kills pests is actually harmless. I bet DDT was once claimed to be harmless to humans, but later it was found to be absolutely lethal.

One other thing about this label: they seem to be putting an awful lot of effort into trying to persuade us that it is all natural. ('A natural harvest' ― I wonder what a non-natural harvest would be like?) And I am rather sceptical about such efforts at persuasion.

But maybe I should celebrate the fact that marketing food as 'natural' is seen as so important nowadays. Let's hope it reflects a change in the way things are grown, as customers are increasingly demanding naturalness.

Anyway, the strawberries were actually very tasty, so perhaps I shouldn't be too cynical about the labelling.

more cars

The Saturday edition of the Media Permata newspaper always carries a summary of the sermon delivered in the mosques the previous day. On page 1 of the Media Permata of 17 April 2010, there is a warning about pride, and people are told not to compare with others about being:

lebih pandai, lebih kaya, lebih mulia, mempunyai rumah yang lebih besar, kereta yang lebih banyak...

which translates as "cleverer, richer, or more respected, having a bigger house or more cars".

I found the last item interesting: "more cars"? In most countries, one might expect people to be concerned about whether their car is better than that of their neighbours. But more cars?

In Brunei, cars are cheaper than in many other places. In Singapore, you cannot buy a new car for less than about $80,000; but after living in Singapore for 15 years, I was stunned to come here and find you can drive away a brand new car for less than $20,000. (And that was what we did when we arrived here: we actually got a bit of change from $20,000.)

Furthermore, most Bruneians buy their new cars on credit, and in fact no down-payment is needed (though that is in the process of being changed). So no wonder local people love their cars, and also often have more than one!

But it's still something I don't understand: if you have a perfectly good car that gets you where you want to go, why would you want another one?

But then I've never understood why you need more than one pair of shoes: I've only got one pair of feet, so why do I need more than one pair of shoes? I guess there's lots of things about the modern world I don't understand.

Oliver's words

This is my grandson, Oliver. He is now two years and three months old.

Although he lives in England, my wife and I get to see him every week on Skype. Modern technology is splendid, as it allows us to watch our grandson growing up even though we are thousands of miles away.

Recently, my son has been recording Oliver's speech and putting the videos on Facebook. And then I can download them and investigate how he speaks. Over the last month or so, these are some of the words he has said, with my best efforts at transcribing his pronunciation:

Easter [i:tə]
egg [eɪʃ]
flower [faʊwə]
house [haʊ]
blanket [bæni]
cow [kaʊ]
cup [kʌ]

Most of these pronunciations are as expected. He simplifies consonant clusters, so the [fl] at the start of flower and the [bl] at the start of blanket get reduced to a single consonant, as does the [st] in the middle of Easter. Furthermore, he tends to drop final consonants, as in house and cup, though the sound at the end of egg is a bit surprising.

One of the advantages of video recordings is that I can see what he is looking at when he is speaking, so I can (usually) work out what the words are. When I was doing my Masters research many eons ago, I recorded my son's speech (he was two at the time); but as I only had an audio tape-recorder, I had to transcribe the data quickly, or I would forget what he had been talking about.

In future, when I teach courses on language acquisition at UBD, I will use these videos of Oliver in class, as I believe this will enliven the material immensely. I hope, also, that those of you who have small children around (maybe nephews and nieces if you don't have your own children) will make the effort to record them. If you miss the chance, they will never be learning to speak again. The recordings can provide fantastic material for research on language acquisition, but if you miss the chance it is gone forever.

a million words?

How many words are there in English? This is actually a meaningless question.

There is someone in the USA who claims that the millionth word of English has recently been coined, but this turns out to be something of a publicity stunt, largely to promote a book he has written on the subject. I won't add to the publicity by telling you his name; but a discussion of this hoax can be found on Language Log here.

I was reminded about the fact that it is not possible to determine how many words there are in English (or any other language) by a recent announcement of a talk at UBD. The abstract starts:

Based on previous reports of the presence of terminal alpha-linked galactosyl residues in the glycoconjugates of the human malaria parasite Plasmodium falciparum, a systematic investigation into the biochemical structure of the glycoconjugates was initiated.

It all sounds fascinating stuff; but what does it mean? And should galactosyl, falciparum and glycoconjugates be counted as some of the "million words" of English or not?

In fact, if you start trying to include as words of English all the possible chemical compounds, some of which can be very long and rather obscure, you will easily exceed one million words.

And it is not just in the pure sciences that this issue arises. In my own field of acoustic phonetics, I could talk about formant transitions following the aspiration associated with fortis alveolar plosives. Should these technical terms be counted as some of the million words? For me, they are all perfectly good words of English; but I don't expect you to agree with me (unless, of course, you have studied lots of phonetics).

I hope this helps to illustrate why any discussion of the total number of words in a language is meaningless.

Sandwiches

It's a long time since I mentioned food. Well, since Feb 4 actually (here). And what would a Brunei blog be without some discussion of food? So here is a picture of the sandwich I have almost every day for my lunch.

I heard that some of my students expressed surprise when they found out that I often go round Bukit Shahbandar together with a few colleagues, as they had seen me eating lunch on my own and assumed that I must have no friends. Eating and chatting together is such an important activity in Brunei that it is simply incomprehensible to local people that I might choose to eat on my own. But I would like to reassure them: I actually do enjoy eating a simple lunch on my own. A sandwich and a couple of oranges are just what one needs in the middle of the day, and in fact I look forward to it. In contrast, the thought of eating greasy noodles or something like that for lunch is rather unpleasant to me.

I read in the newspapers that 55% of all government employees in Brunei are obese. Not just overweight, but obese. If this figure is accurate, it is truly alarming. Perhaps more people should be encouraged to eat sandwiches for lunch!

But that is never going to happen. Indeed, the collegiality of people chatting while eating together is a vitally important feature of Brunei society, so the authorities will have to find some other way of dealing with the obesity epidemic.

a gentle reminder

A couple of days ago, I sent a reminder about a forthcoming test to my first-year students, and one of my colleagues (jokingly) suggested that it should have been a 'gentle reminder' that I sent.

Indeed, in Brunei and Singapore we are often sent 'gentle reminders', and the use of the pre-modifying adjective 'gentle' is intended to soften the message, to make it more friendly and polite. So it may be true that my students would have expected a 'gentle reminder' rather than just a reminder.

The problem with this is that, in the UK, a 'gentle reminder' is regarded as threatening, suggesting that the sender is really rather annoyed about something. It is a bit like the phrases 'It would be appreciated if ...' and 'Kindly be informed that ...', both of which are common in Brunei and Singapore but both of which carry an officious, legalistic tone in the UK, something that is not at all friendly.

This illustrates that we should all be sensitive to local norms of language usage. Bruneians should be aware that a 'gentle reminder' seems to some people to carry a threatening tone; and expatriates living in Brunei should recognise that a 'gentle reminder' here is intended as polite and friendly.

Given that I am dealing with a Bruneian audience, perhaps I should indeed have sent a 'gentle reminder'.

Bukit Tangahan

Bukit Shahbandar is a popular site for hill walking about half an hour out of the centre of BSB.

Between Pondoks ('huts') 4 and 5 of Shahbandar, there is an extra loop that is not shown on the maps, and the hill half-way round this extra loop is called Bukit Tangahan (where bukit means 'hill').This sign nicely illustrates the vowels of Brunei Malay. In Standard Malay, it would be Tengahan ('half-way point'); but as Brunei Malay only has three vowels [i, a, u] rather than the six vowels of Standard Malay, in the first syllable of Tangahan we find 'a' rather than 'e'.

fruits

This is the sign above a shop in Kiulap, near the centre of BSB in Brunei.The standard English would be 'Fresh fruit and vegetables', which I think beautifully illustrates the quirky illogicality of English.

Think about it. Fruit and vegetables are rather similar: in both cases, there are many kinds, and often the individual items are round and you can select one or two or more. So why in standard English is fruit a singular noncount noun while vegetables is a plural noun? It just doesn't make any sense.

No wonder fruit is one of the words that is being reanalysed in many New Englishes around the world, and fruits is becoming increasingly acceptable in places such as Singapore and Brunei.

This is just the kind of regularising change that one would expect to occur in the evolution of the language, and as I have argued before (e.g. here and here), it seems that New Englishes are hastening the pace of change, even if many people in the USA and UK are not too happy about this.

Royal Titles

In a recent post (here), I mentioned two versions of HM the Sultan's name, the shorter of which took a television newsreader 5 seconds to read out.

My UBD colleague Adrian Clynes has pointed out that there is an even more complete version:

Kebawah Duli Yang Maha Mulia Paduka Seri Baginda Sultan Haji Hassanal Bolkiah Muizzaddin Waddaulah ibni Al-Marhum Sultan Haji Omar 'Ali Saifuddien Sa'adul Khairi Waddien, Sultan dan Yang Di-Pertuan Negara Brunei Darussalam

This version includes details of the Sultan's father (after ibni, the royal equivalent of bin 'son of').

In fact, in the 7:00 radio news this morning, I heard this longer version read out in full twice, in a report on the current ASEAN summit in Vietnam. I guess it is important to use the full version of the name when reporting on official royal visits to foreign countries.

I wasn't able to time it (partly as I was driving my car at the time), but I bet it took a little bit longer than 5 seconds to say.

Pictures in the Papers

Here's a picture from page 3 of the 6 April edition of Media Permata, the national Malay language daily in Brunei. The headline says 'Painting exhibition gets encouraging support', and the article is about an art exhibition arganised by the Alliance Francais.The woman in a pink dress in the middle of the picture is my wife.

In fact, it is not the first time pictures of us have appeared in the Brunei newspapers. Here is a picture from page 3 of the Media Permata of 2 December last year. The headline says 'Lucky customers receive gifts', and the article is about customers winning gifts in a lucky draw held by HSBC.The old-looking chap in a white shirt is me.

Given that we don't attend a lot of official functions or go to many parties organised by the embassies and things like that, it seems extraordinary that we find our photos in the newspapers so often. But then there are only about 400 thousand people in Brunei, and it must be tough for journalists to find major news articles to fill the newspaper every day. So the fact that they tend to focus on what might seem like quite minor issues is perhaps not so surprising after all.

I guess we should just be grateful that there aren't more murders and robberies here for the papers to report!

repair kasut

Here's a sign by the side of Jalan Subok, near BSB. As you can no doubt guess, kasut means 'shoe'.Is there no word in Malay for repair? My dictionary tells me that membaiki is 'to repair', and the noun is pembaikan (both derived from the root baik 'good'). But maybe the English word sounds more fashionable or sophisticated or something.

This sign illustrates the widespread mixing between Malay and English that occurs in Brunei. Sometimes I hear speakers switching between the two languages several times in one sentence.

Reading Names Correctly

The correct use of titles is extremely important in Brunei, something I have mentioned before (e.g. here).

It seems that the more important someone is, the longer his name. (OK, that was a bit sexist; but it is still basically true that most top people in Brunei are male.) And of course none is more important than His Majesty the Sultan. The full reference to him is:

Kebawah Duli Yang Maha Mulia Paduka Seri Baginda Sultan Haji Hassanal Bolkiah Mu'izzaddin Waddaulah Sultan dan Yang Di-Pertuan Negara Brunei Darussalam

Newsreaders are expected to read this out each time they mention him, which can be quite a lot of times during a news broadcast; though it seems that a slightly shorter version is acceptable. I managed to find an extract of the national RTB news of 17 April 2009 on YouTube (here) where the newsreader reads out the shorter version:

Kebawah Duli Yang Maha Mulia Paduka Seri Baginda Sultan dan Yang Di-Pertuan Negara Brunei Darussalam

This version omits some personal names (Haji Hassanal Bolkiah Mu'izzaddin Waddaulah) but keeps most of the titles.

It is impressive how fast, clearly and accurately television and radio broadcasters can say this. I have timed the YouTube extract at 5 seconds, but I suspect other newsreaders do it quite a bit faster and still get it all correct.

At last year's graduation ceremony for UBD students, HM the Sultan had consented to come and give out the certificates, and in the rehearsals there was panic because one of the Deans, being a foreigner, could not get His Majesty's name right, no matter how many times he tried. So it was decided that UBD should use the services of a professional newsreader instead. The result was stunning: this professional not only got all the official greetings and announcements correct, but also the names of all the graduating students were read clearly, accurately and quickly. In the end, the whole ceremony took half the expected time, there were no mistakes or stumbling over the names of the students, and everybody went home happy.

I know one university in Australia where it is the job of the resident phonetician to read out the names of students at graduation. But there is no way I could do better than the professional newsreader. It really was impressive.

Egocentricity in Language

Here is an extract from my Malay text book (Teach Yourself Malay, by Christopher Byrnes and Tam Lye Suan). And here is the translation that is offered in the book.There are two things of note here. First, the Malay 'saya dan isteri saya' becomes inverted in the English, so that I comes second in 'my wife and I'.

And second, I think the translation is not quite right. In English we do not say 'we can't go'. Instead, we say 'we can't come'. My interpretation of this is that we transfer the focus to the listener, so we use come rather than go because we are thinking in terms of the perspective of the listener.

These two differences between Malay and English suggest that English may be less egocentric than Malay: we place ourselves second, and we transfer the perspective to the listener.

Is this really true? One problem is many speakers do not naturally say 'my friend and I' ― it seems more natural for most people to say 'me and my friend', and it is only through the intervention of teachers that 'my friend and I' becomes the norm (and many speakers in fact resist this correction from their teachers).

And the use of come rather than go is quite an obscure aspect of English grammar, something that second language users of English rarely adopt. Indeed, I suspect that go will become the norm in situations like that in the dialogue for International English. Maybe it already is the norm.

So perhaps English is not less egocentric after all.

bintang / star

I have previously (e.g. here) discussed calques, words or phrases where each part is translated word-for-word from one language into another. For example take part in English becomes mengambil bahagian in Malay.

Of course, calques also occur in English, so for example brainwash comes from the Chinese 洗脑, and lose face comes from the Chinese 丢脸. Wikipedia (here) offers a substantial list of calques into English from a range of languages, though as so often with Wikipedia articles, many of the entries are unreferenced and so there is some doubt about how reliable the material is.

However, I suspect that calques from English into Malay are particularly common. When I don't understand a phrase in the Malay newspaper, I try translating it back into English, and I find that often works. Now, I agree that this is not a very reliable method of determining if something is a calque or not, as it is quite possible that the phrase was created independently in Malay, or indeed that the calquing is in the other direction, from Malay to English, but I suspect that most of the examples I find are indeed calques from English into Malay.

There is one other phenomenon that is similar but not quite the same: when a metaphorical extension of a word is transferred from one language to another. For example, take the English word star. We can say it is a polyseme, as it has two distinct but related meanings: the object in the sky; and a successful entertainer, especially in films or music. And we find that the Malay word bintang is the same. The basic meaning is one of those sparkling objects in the sky, but we also find phrases like bintang pop ('pop star') and bintang filem ('film star'); and I'm pretty sure that this metaphorical extension of bintang comes from English.

Is this calquing? Well, maybe. But note that it does not involve one fixed phrase, as the extended meaning of bintang can be found in a range of phrases. My UBD colleague Ayla suggested that bintang seni ('star of the arts') might be possible, though I haven't encountered that one.

I wonder if there is a term to describe this kind of cross-language influence involving the metaphorical extension of a word.