This post is about how lazy documentation befuddles language. In my neck of the woods we have a good example
brought to us by someone who didn’t take the time to check facts. Farther north someone else (perhaps a geologist
or geographer) gave us another doozy: A word so convoluted that when I tell
Spanish speakers about it they shake their heads and utter something like, “How
ridiculous can somebody be?” Now I’m not
calling anyone ridiculous…at least not overtly.
Still, bad scientific note taking can lead to things as foolish as
making the adjective “the” into a proper noun and calling a puddle a beach.
A few years ago I was asked to contribute to a book about
geographical terms. The idea was to take
local geographical (or geological) common names and explain them to a greater audience
that might not be familiar with those words.
I thought that was a wonderful idea and still do. After all, most of you have never heard the
words mogote or charco or brecha. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a dictionary
written by experts in different parts of the country who can explain those
local terms to everyone? So a bunch of
us stretching from the East Coast to the West Coast set out to write the book
and the university funding the project put it all together. It was fun and worthwhile.
It was during that assignment that I began thinking about how
certain terms are valid and others are illogical. Some were derived by adopting ancient words
while others resulted through carelessness.
In the United States for example many geographical names are actually
Indian words either changed into an English-sort-of rendition or they are the
original Indian word. Sometimes,
however, things go terribly wrong and invariably that’s because someone was negligent.
Take the word la
for example. In Spanish the word la is the feminine form of “the”—and el is the masculine form. I hope that’s not confusing. Say, for example, you were to say la musica. Translated that means, “the music.” Here’s another example: La muchacha which means “the girl.”
But once upon a time someone was out in the field obtaining the “common
names” (also called “folk names”) of various plants. This uninspired person might have had a bad
day, i.e. too much sun, not enough water, too many plants to name. Who knows, but when our less-than-industrious
so-and-so asked his/her local guide about a certain plant the guide probably
said something like, “This is the coma.”
Except in Spanish it came out like, Esta es la coma. I imagine that
whoever was taking notes nodded and said something like, “Hmmm.” And then he/she wrote down, la coma.
For years afterwards the little plant that goes by the scientific name
of Bumelia celastrina or Sideroxylon celastrinum became “la coma”
which translated into English is “the coma.” Mind you the two Latinized names above
are for the exact same plant; and perhaps you were taught that the “scientific
name” is the definitive name. Well, here’s a bit of bad news: Not even
scientific names are sacrosanct these days.
Some texts have as many as three or even four “synonymous” scientific
names which is another confusing story that perhaps I’ll try to tackle at some
later date. But let’s get back to the
subject of lazy science and bad language.
Some of the more obsessive-compulsive science aficionados raised all kinds
of hell when they started reading the words, “la coma” in botanical texts. “That’s nuts!” we (I mean, they) yelled. Little good it did because for years—as if
immune to accuracy or legitimacy or even logic—the texts kept appearing with
the words la coma written under the
little woody plant that bears edible bluish-purple berries. Over and again a dedicated group kept saying
that the term was wrong and should be corrected. But it was perhaps too late. The botanical community had entrenched itself
with the name la coma and no amount
of reasoning or logic seemed to dissuade them. Years went by and nothing changed. Now, after a lot of preaching, people are
starting to drop the word la and
simply say, coma. And that’s the real name. It is called, coma.
But the real doozy is a word used by geologists and geographers
that is so bizarre it boggles the mind. That
word is “playa” that for nearly 500 million Spanish speakers around the world
means “beach.” Somehow, the word “playa”
became a big puddle. Well, it’s a bit more
sophisticated than that from a geological perspective but essentially it’s a
puddle. So here’s my take on how a “beach”
became a “puddle.” Once upon a time a
non-Spanish speaking persona was
walking around with his/her guide (who may not have been all that adept at
Spanish) and this persona asked, “What
do you call that?” The guide was
confused but not wanting to sound ignorant or even stupid said, “playa”
referring to perhaps the sandy edge of the puddle that reminded him of a beach.
“Ah,” the persona said trying to sound wise and contemplative. And he/she wrote down in his/her notes that a
puddle was called a playa. And that
sounded kind of neat so from hence forth said puddles were called playas. Years ago I even saw a book entitled The Playas of Madison County” or
something along those lines. Actually, I
think it was called The Playas of Kansas or
maybe it was The Playas of Frisco Bay. Either way the title threw me because on the
cover was a picture of all these giant puddles.
So when I set out to contribute to the book on geographical
names one of the words that landed on my desk was…yes, you got it…“playa.” I asked one of the editors what definition
they were expecting and the editor referred me to a geologist who said, “Well,
everyone knows a playa is a well-drained….puddle." Except, of course, she didn’t say the word puddle
even though I kept imagining a puddle,
or at least a small pond, as she spoke. She
seemed not the least concerned about the word’s larger meaning. What mattered was how the word had been
defined (regardless of how poorly) by her fellow geologists or
geographers. In an attempt to be tactful
I wrote that what we were seeing is language evolving; and in fact that’s
probably what is occurring. Still, all
of this mess results from someone’s laziness or ineptness in collecting proper
terminology.
Trivialities to some; important issues to others. But words matter and oftentimes people are
lax in what they say or how they interpret what has been said to them. It’s something worth thinking about.
Coma
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