"Give passport, please!" or a similarly constructed phrase would not be unusual to hear from a Ukrainian border guard with a basic knowledge of English.
Even though he is taking the trouble to speak your language in his country (because, presumably, you don't understand his language) to an English speaker his request may seem a bit direct, definitely awkward and possibly even rude.
The request brings Cold War images of the stony-faced Soviet commissar, pedantic Communist ideologue or cigarillo-smoking femme fatale to mind. The border guard didn't smile when he said it and, given that your bright white sneakers and trendy backpack cost more than he (officially) earns in a month, you expect a little respect. Indeed, this guy may despise you for reasons known only to him (e.g.: he believes that real men don't board aircraft in shorts), or he may just be an example of the type of public servant or service industry worker that people in this part of the world learned to deal with a long time ago.
But there is nothing in his speech that suggests either of these conclusions. The phrase quoted above sounds perfectly courteous in Russian: The word "Give" would be in the polite form, "daite" [дайте], instead of the familiar "Dai" [дай]." In addition, our Russian speaker has added the word "please" ("pozhaluysta" [*пожалуйста*]) for good measure. So what do you want, a welcome parade? True, the proper use of English articles (e.g. "the" and "a") wouldn't hurt, but he doesn't have any of these in his native language. He also could have added the pronoun "me" after "give," but that would have made his request sound less official - at least to his ear.
There is, in addition, the issue of his less-than-friendly manner, which many foreigners note among people working behind counters or in uniform in Ukraine. We English speakers (particularly Americans) believe that courtesy, especially if we are spending our money somewhere, is part of the service. In theory, many Russian speakers wouldn't disagree, but they generally reserve their smiles for people they like or are at least are pretending to like. Indifference to customers or patrons is neither a policy nor a violation thereof. More often, it depends on the person or the mood he is in.
In all fairness to Ukrainians, some English speakers have taken superficial civility and thinly disguised sarcastic language, topped off with a smile so stiff that it almost hurts, to the level of an art. Our ears hear "Thank you, sir!" but their eyes say, "Don't come back soon, clown." For that matter, just try to speak something other than English in the U.S., where, contrary to popular belief, there is no official language. Ukraine's linguistic efforts are laudable by comparison.
But how about when you phone or visit an office in Kyiv, where a bilingual secretary is on hand? Phrases like, "Whom do you represent?" (instead of "May I ask who's calling?") and "Call later, please" (instead of "Can I have Mr. Petrenko get back to you?") or "Wait on line" (rather than "Please hold the line") give you the initial impression that the rest of your dealings with this company will be just as cold or awkward.
Why do they talk like that? Well, first it must be acknowledged that secretaries, no less than border guards, can be a difficult breed just about anywhere. The West is no exception. Second, the person you are speaking to in Kyiv might really be cold and very representative of the firm she works for. Oddly enough, if the secretary is nice and makes a genuine effort to show you every tooth in her mouth in violation of every cultural norm that she and her compatriots cherish, our non-Russian speaker may still be put off by her choice of words.
The reason for this is that English doesn't have straightforward polite forms (rendered in Russian as in many other European languages by using the second person plural - "Vy" [*Вы*] or "You all"). Instead we have all kinds of complicated structures that aren't all that easy to understand, much less to master by foreigners. "Could you," "Would you" and "If you don't mind" are just a few of the verbose ways we show people that we are attempting to be polite. Many a North American or Brit has probably never even considered why the future continuous tense in English sounds more courteous than the future simple. For example, "Will you be having coffee with your desert?" is more delicate than "Do you want coffee with your desert?"
Just recall for a moment how many times you thought a young waiter was being cocky because he tried to tackle one of these complicated English structures but failed. He wanted to say "Will that be all this evening" but something like "Is that all you will eat this evening?" came out instead. And to make matters worse, Ukrainians and Russians are sometimes embarrassed to admit that they don't know English as well as they would like, occasionally even continuing to speak in English while you try your hand at Russian in a comical duel of reverse linguistic chauvinism. Usually you would just give them the benefit of the doubt, because their mistakes don't seem to be grammatical and they've come up with a couple of impressive, multi-syllabic words which you'd only heard a few times yourself.
But don't be fooled. Russian, unlike English, is loaded with inflection, which means the endings and stems of the same word changes depending on the role the word plays in a given sentence. English is more likely to rely on syntax, prepositions or articles. A simple sentence in Russian is difficult to formulate without knowing the endings, while many can at least make themselves understood in English by just knowing the words. Nevertheless, when it comes to more complicated structures conveying mood, obligation, courtesy and respect, English turns into a swamp of confusion. In such cases, the Russian speaker's preference for grammar (at least in formal discourse) weighs him down with clumsy structure long discarded in English, and multi-syllabic words won't help him.
Several hundred years ago, English had a lot more inflection and other features that Russian has retained. For example, instead of just "You," we had "thou" when talking to one person (e.g. thou art a villain) and "Ye" when addressing more than one (e.g. Hear ye! Hear ye!). Russian, like many European languages, retains this: "Ty" [Ты] (you singular) and "Vy" (you plural or polite). Languages like German, Spanish and French do the same. Russian, in fact, started using "Vy" as a polite form in imitation of European tongues. In the 15th century, for example, a peasant would address the Czar as "Ty". A few centuries later, he'd probably be beaten for talking that way to his lord.
Today, knowing when one should use "Vy" instead of "Ty" is no easy task for the English-speaking student of Russian. Your average Russian textbook will tell you to use "Vy" with older people, adult strangers and as a general sign of respect. However, in my view, it's not just a matter of when you should, but when you want to use it. Using "Vy" creates a distance between speakers, as demonstrated by the fact that many Russian speakers address their parents using "Ty," but an irate customer in a shop would probably use "Vy" while putting a cocky and possibly even younger store clerk in his place - unless things get really nasty and insults start to fly.
Not only is Russian invested with courtesy features, which unfortunately don't translate well into English, it also expresses a soft side of the people who speak it, which is rarely depicted in Hollywood stereotypes played by actors like Dolph Lundgren. For example, a Russian mother talking to her child can add endings to words that create a level of tenderness unachievable in English without the creation of entirely new words: "Pokazhika mamochke svoi malusenkiye pukhlenkiye nozhechki, Sashenka!" [*Покажи-ка мамочке свои малюсенькие пухленькие ножечки, Сашенька!*] might translate into English as "Show mommy your chubby little legs, little Alex." But half of the emotion from the original is lost. Diminutive endings like "ka" [*ка*], "ochka" [*очка*], "ik" [*ик*] and "chik" [*чик*] are also used between men and women or sometimes just to soften a command: "Dai mne stul," [*Дай мне стул*] (give me the chair) sounds harder than "Dai mne stul'chik" [*Дай мне стульчик*] (give me the little chair - or could you, would you, hand me that chair?).
This isn't to say that English-speaking mothers or lovers also can't be gentle and sensitive. They just need to use more words or make up their own. I strongly suspect that pet names for babies and bedmates are more common in English (e.g. boo, pumpkin, baby cakes, honey bun) than in Russian, which seems to prefer to build on the word itself rather than coming up with a new one: Ivan, Vanya, Vanusha, Vaneshka, etc.
Familiarity in Russian can, however, breed contempt. The same diminutives can be used quite subtly to express condescension and even ridicule. Just as "Vy" can signal respect and distance, "Ty" can show lack of respect as well as affection. Calling someone whom you've just met, for example, Vanya would be saucy. Just as a serious female journalist would probably prefer to be called ''Zhurnalist" [*журналист*] rather than "Zhurnalistka" [*журналистка*]. A short man referred to as a "chelovechik" [*человечек*] rather than simply "chelovek" [*человек*] might punch you in the nose. As always in such matters, it mostly depends on who is saying it and how he says it. In Russian, where the division between soft and hard dominates the alphabet, the choice is clear. In English, the distinction is lost.
|
