Thursday, July 31, 2008
Entomological Etymology
Ten, that's right, TEN feitclub points to anyone who already knows what I'm going to talk about based on the post title.
I had another memorable insect encounter yesterday. Walking the halls of an empty school, desperately trying to convince myself I wasn't bored, my eyes were drawn to a monster of a dragonfly sitting on the inside of a windowpane. It was at least as big as the intruder we expelled from another school last week (I mentioned it on Twitter - you do read those notes, right?), which is to say that the body was much longer than any human finger could be and the wings looked to be even longer still. If something like this landed on your face, some part of it would certainly cover your eyes, nose and mouth. If that doesn't clue you in to the horrible feeling I had looking at it, I'm not sure what else I can say.
(Quick aside: I know this is all a little ridiculous since a dragonfly is totally harmless. It cannot bite, scratch, pinch, sting, poke, harm, wound, poison, or slime me in any way. But bugs give me the creeps, plain and simple)
I returned to the office and casually mentioned the large insect in the hall. I don't know why I brought it up. I guess I got the impression that most of the people sitting around were bored in their own way and this was an easy bit of "news" to put out there. I didn't even need to form my statement in a complete sentence - just saying "large," "dragonfly," and "hallway" in any order would communicate the sentiment sufficiently. I did my best to construct a coherent sentence anyway because I certainly need all the practice I can get. A teacher was quick to inform me that rather than "large dragonfly" (dekai tonbo), such a creature was known as oniyanma in Japanese. It took me a couple tries to repeat that word to her satisfaction, but I'd like to think that I'll remember that word from now on. Especially after what happened next.
Having reported my findings, I went back to the desk where I sit (semantic note: I can't call it "my desk" because I don't have my own desk, I just sit in an assigned seat at each school) and sorted my papers or otherwise attempted to appear busy. I didn't think twice that the teacher I had been speaking to suddenly went out into the hall. She probably needed to look busy too. I wasn't even looking at her when she came back into the room and flatly stated "Oniyanma" again. I turned to face her in order to find out what element of our insect-identifying conversation wasn't over. My eyes met hers but then I noticed that she was holding the horrible thing in her outstretched hand, its wings clasped between her fingers, its body eerily still but indubitably alive.
My reaction was swift and decisive. I jerked my entire body away from her in shock, withdrawing all my extremities into my personal space, closing my mouth tightly lest a sound escape my lips that might prompt her to release her grip, while opening my eyes wide to communicate how utterly terrified I was by her captive. My saucer-like gaze fixed on the prisoner, frantically checking and re-checking to confirm that the insect was unable to approach me, my anxiety unfettered by the reality of this already-harmless life form now rendered helpless and put on display. It took me some time before I could say anything, and I don't think I managed much beyond the obvious "I'm surprised!" (bikkuri shita!) which my face and posture had already clearly established.
I don't recall her saying anything else, I just know that she took it away, left the room, and headed outside to set the dragonfly free. I was forced to wonder what her goals had been in bringing it into the office to show it to me in the first place. She could have simply grabbed it and taken it from the hallway straight outside. Did she think I wanted to know more about it? Did my difficulty in saying oniyanma give her concern that she had somehow failed to explain what it was? Did she catch on that I really was bored and she figured this was an easy way to liven things up? Whatever her motivations, I think the safest course of action is to think twice before pointing out any unpleasant-looking insects to my Japanese co-workers.
Once the presence of the dragonfly was behind us, we did continue to discuss it for a little while longer, specifically the nature of its peculiar name, oniyanma. Using a dictionary she pointed out the first kanji character of its name was the same oni (鬼) as the Japanese word for "spirit" or "demon." She also suggested something along the lines (my comprehension was really being tested here) that the name was tied to "an older brother being scared," oniisan being "older brother" and iya (嫌) being a word with numerous negative connotations. Whether she was giving me a true history of the word or simply offering a kind of mnemonic device to remember it by, clearly this insect's name was forged in a kiln of fear and loathing.
Hearing her explain the background of the name oniyanma reminded me of a nearly-forgotten quiz show segment that had, months earlier, mentioned this insect by name. A quick Internet check confirmed that an alternate way of writing oniyanma was 馬大頭, using the characters for "horse," "big," and "head." While not as scary as invoking a "demon," I'd say those three characters definitely imply that some author or wordsmith years ago felt the oniyanma resembled "a horse's large head" (please note that this is an unsourced, totally amateur assumption on my part and it is intended for entertainment purposes only).
I wish I could say my encounter with the oniyanma led to a new-found interest in dragonflies, a re-examination of my own fears, or even a better understanding of the Japanese cultural fascination with insects, but there's no magical segue coming at the end of all this. I don't like bugs because they creep me out. That's a difficult position to maintain in this country but I can no more choose to love insects than I could choose to love men. I'm straight, and bugs are gross - those are equally immutable facts about me. And by the way, Mako doesn't like bugs either, so those two facts work out well for her too.
I had another memorable insect encounter yesterday. Walking the halls of an empty school, desperately trying to convince myself I wasn't bored, my eyes were drawn to a monster of a dragonfly sitting on the inside of a windowpane. It was at least as big as the intruder we expelled from another school last week (I mentioned it on Twitter - you do read those notes, right?), which is to say that the body was much longer than any human finger could be and the wings looked to be even longer still. If something like this landed on your face, some part of it would certainly cover your eyes, nose and mouth. If that doesn't clue you in to the horrible feeling I had looking at it, I'm not sure what else I can say.
(Quick aside: I know this is all a little ridiculous since a dragonfly is totally harmless. It cannot bite, scratch, pinch, sting, poke, harm, wound, poison, or slime me in any way. But bugs give me the creeps, plain and simple)
I returned to the office and casually mentioned the large insect in the hall. I don't know why I brought it up. I guess I got the impression that most of the people sitting around were bored in their own way and this was an easy bit of "news" to put out there. I didn't even need to form my statement in a complete sentence - just saying "large," "dragonfly," and "hallway" in any order would communicate the sentiment sufficiently. I did my best to construct a coherent sentence anyway because I certainly need all the practice I can get. A teacher was quick to inform me that rather than "large dragonfly" (dekai tonbo), such a creature was known as oniyanma in Japanese. It took me a couple tries to repeat that word to her satisfaction, but I'd like to think that I'll remember that word from now on. Especially after what happened next.
Having reported my findings, I went back to the desk where I sit (semantic note: I can't call it "my desk" because I don't have my own desk, I just sit in an assigned seat at each school) and sorted my papers or otherwise attempted to appear busy. I didn't think twice that the teacher I had been speaking to suddenly went out into the hall. She probably needed to look busy too. I wasn't even looking at her when she came back into the room and flatly stated "Oniyanma" again. I turned to face her in order to find out what element of our insect-identifying conversation wasn't over. My eyes met hers but then I noticed that she was holding the horrible thing in her outstretched hand, its wings clasped between her fingers, its body eerily still but indubitably alive.
My reaction was swift and decisive. I jerked my entire body away from her in shock, withdrawing all my extremities into my personal space, closing my mouth tightly lest a sound escape my lips that might prompt her to release her grip, while opening my eyes wide to communicate how utterly terrified I was by her captive. My saucer-like gaze fixed on the prisoner, frantically checking and re-checking to confirm that the insect was unable to approach me, my anxiety unfettered by the reality of this already-harmless life form now rendered helpless and put on display. It took me some time before I could say anything, and I don't think I managed much beyond the obvious "I'm surprised!" (bikkuri shita!) which my face and posture had already clearly established.
I don't recall her saying anything else, I just know that she took it away, left the room, and headed outside to set the dragonfly free. I was forced to wonder what her goals had been in bringing it into the office to show it to me in the first place. She could have simply grabbed it and taken it from the hallway straight outside. Did she think I wanted to know more about it? Did my difficulty in saying oniyanma give her concern that she had somehow failed to explain what it was? Did she catch on that I really was bored and she figured this was an easy way to liven things up? Whatever her motivations, I think the safest course of action is to think twice before pointing out any unpleasant-looking insects to my Japanese co-workers.
Once the presence of the dragonfly was behind us, we did continue to discuss it for a little while longer, specifically the nature of its peculiar name, oniyanma. Using a dictionary she pointed out the first kanji character of its name was the same oni (鬼) as the Japanese word for "spirit" or "demon." She also suggested something along the lines (my comprehension was really being tested here) that the name was tied to "an older brother being scared," oniisan being "older brother" and iya (嫌) being a word with numerous negative connotations. Whether she was giving me a true history of the word or simply offering a kind of mnemonic device to remember it by, clearly this insect's name was forged in a kiln of fear and loathing.
Hearing her explain the background of the name oniyanma reminded me of a nearly-forgotten quiz show segment that had, months earlier, mentioned this insect by name. A quick Internet check confirmed that an alternate way of writing oniyanma was 馬大頭, using the characters for "horse," "big," and "head." While not as scary as invoking a "demon," I'd say those three characters definitely imply that some author or wordsmith years ago felt the oniyanma resembled "a horse's large head" (please note that this is an unsourced, totally amateur assumption on my part and it is intended for entertainment purposes only).
I wish I could say my encounter with the oniyanma led to a new-found interest in dragonflies, a re-examination of my own fears, or even a better understanding of the Japanese cultural fascination with insects, but there's no magical segue coming at the end of all this. I don't like bugs because they creep me out. That's a difficult position to maintain in this country but I can no more choose to love insects than I could choose to love men. I'm straight, and bugs are gross - those are equally immutable facts about me. And by the way, Mako doesn't like bugs either, so those two facts work out well for her too.
Feedback:
When leaving comments, please don't remain Anonymous. Click on "Other" and pick a name!
Be sociable! No sign-up is required!
Uh oh. Touch of pedancy here. It's a fine line, my overly intelegent friend.
Of course, an amazing read.
Of course, an amazing read.
# posted by 
: 05 August, 2008 14:43
: 05 August, 2008 14:43
"Pendacy?" That's no good. Was it the excessive detailing in the description of little critter or the analysis of oniyanma? If it's the latter, well, that's the kind of stuff that grabs me about this language.
コメントがあります？ Type something, please. It's less work for me.
When leaving comments, please don't remain Anonymous. Click on "Other" and pick a name!
Be sociable! No sign-up is required!
unpaid advertising...I'm no sell out!
