Solomon Islands

Ian MacNeill: A former British protectorate, Solomon Islands is just east of Papua New Guinea and only three hours out of Brisbane by jet. Australia has had extensive historical associations with this near neighbour, including our present military and administrative presence -- or interference, depending on your point of view -- there. And, if only inadvertently, Australia also played a major role in the linguistic history of that country, by nurturing the nation's lingua franca -- Solomons Pijin -- until it was returned to its homeland where it became established with an astonishing vigour.

Solomons Pijin was born in a bay on a large island now known by its local name, Makira, where whalers and traders began calling in the 1840s, beginning as a trade jargon made up of broken English and common Polynesian root words. This jargon then developed into a language amongst indentured or slave labour on the sugar cane plantations of Queensland. Then, repatriated Solomon Islanders took that new development in language home, where it stabilised by the 1920s to spread like wild fire.

These days Solomons Pijin is locked in a process of inextricable influence and counter influence with its cohabiter and rival, Solomons English.

Now English, as well as other European languages, was originally brought to Solomon Islands by Christianising missions even before a British protectorate was proclaimed over the Southern Solomons in 1893. After that protectorate, now including the northern Solomons, became an independent nation in 1978, Solomons English went on to develop as one of the many variants of English carried to all corners of the globe in the name of the British Empire.

Those eighty-five years of British rule had established English as the official language of Solomon Islands; the language of parliament, of education, of the bureaucracy. But all that time a sibling rival was exerting its own influence in the country, Solomons Pijin, which triumphed over Solomons English to become the common language of daily life. And Solomons Pijin has proved the better catalyst in uniting peoples whose local indigenous languages, of which there are more than 60, may be as remote from one another as say Croatian and Urdu are.

So successful has Solomons Pijin been that many indigenous languages are in danger of extinction. Nevertheless it would be a mistake at this point to underestimate the power of the local languages. The Pijin word wontok -- one talk -- denotes those who have most influence over a person and they are the ones who speak the language of your village.

Advertising agencies prefer the high impact of Solomons Pijin, in their attempts to influence their readers and listeners. Solbako's ads, for example, claim Hemi Simoka Bilong Iumi -- 'this smoke is us' -- muttering in smaller print a Gavman Helt Woning: Simoka Save Spoelem Lang Bilong Iu, which by law it must translate into official English -- 'Smoking Causes Lung Cancer'. The copywriter counted on the Pijin Hemi Simok Bilong Iumi to create an 'us' against the 'them' of health warning in its official English. Who are you going to listen to, the 'us' or the 'them'?

Let us return for a moment to the name of the place where Solomons Pijin began, Makira. It was known to Europeans for five hundred years as San Cristoval. The rising tide of national consciousness since independence in 1978 caused such terminology to be frowned upon with preference being given to local namings. In this spirit the island of Santa Cruz is now known as Nendo, Santa Catalina as Owa-rii, etcetera. However, Guadalcanal is still Guadalcanal. But where did these Spanish names come from?

Well, Spanish might have become the official language of Solomon Islands, just as Portuguese has become that in East Timor. There were three attempts by the Spanish, between 1567 and 1607, to colonise the islands -- all fascinating tales but it was the British who succeeded three hundred years later where the Spanish had failed.

Missionaries flocked to the area. Schoolrooms rang with the chanting of the English alphabet. Rather like Latin in the Roman Empire or French in Norman Britain, English became the language to acquire if you wanted to be where the power lay. But all the time Pijin was thriving in the markets and on trading excursions.

The rival languages collide in the political arena. Solomon Islands Broadcasting Corporation puts to air parliamentary debates in English but all its other programs are in Pijin. You can bet that when MPs are addressing their electorates directly they do so in Pijin or the appropriate local language, if they speak it. Most Solomon Islanders are much happier in Pijin than in Solomons English which has the correcting hand of the school teacher hovering over it. Solomon Islanders do not enjoy themselves in English, their laughter is in Pijin.

But let's just think about how the lived experience of the country is reflected in the official language -- Solomons English -- and consider how local conditions are pushing it to blend with Solomons Pijin.

As it is spoken Solomons English is direct with simple syntax. This simplicity must make it a joy for anyone learning English to try their English out on a Solomon Islander. Furthermore Solomons English is pronounced clearly. There are though charming local variants. Since some Solomon Islanders have trouble with the 'sh' sound, a visitor will get 'There are no sarks in the lagoon' (there are, be warned, and marine crocodiles too!). Or you might hear, in a special attempt at correctly pronounced and idiomatic English: 'pull up your shocks'. Idioms are inflected with local experience, one example being 'part and partial', since Solomon Islanders refer to what we call a parcel, as a basket.

Also, preference is shown for words which demonstrate the speaker or writer is well educated, as in the embracing of 'partial' in 'part and partial'. For the same reason, elaborate syntax is a characteristic of the written form of Solomons English which strains to be formal and impressive. Hence, The Holy Bible is often cited in this very Christian country.

Solomons English bears the marks of the struggles that all non-native speakers have with English, the prepositions for example: 'on who are you going to vote?'; 'the diabetics are not living up to their diets', 'on the outset I would like to thank...' Confusion can easily result: 'any agreements against the referee's decision should be expressed quietly' (soccer excites the same passions in Solomon Islands as elsewhere).

Those fiendish English articles can be dealt with by ignoring them as you might have already noticed with the preference for 'Solomon Islands' over 'the Solomon Islands'. Problems are more likely to arise when the speaker is straining for a formal diction. We might get: 'the officer said he encountered little resistance from the youths who had been drinking', when what was meant was the police officer had encountered a little resistance...' The phrase 'A few' gives the same problems: 'I needed to check few votes' might be said when what was meant was, 'I needed to check a few more votes'.

English tenses, particularly versions of the past, also characteristically trouble non-native English speakers. Solomon Islanders solve the problem by using the present tense as a kind of default when the going gets too tough with the past: 'The aid worker was angry and question why this is not being done a long time ago'. Adjectives are sometimes used as stand-ins for past participles: 'The doctor was very impressive with the child's recovery', instead of: 'The doctor was very impressed by the child's recovery'.

The country is changing rapidly. This allows Solomons Pijin as the language of lived experience a vital space for influence. Solomons English occupies the official sphere -- which does not allow the same flexibility in responding to rapidly developing situations and new concepts. To its advantage, Solomons English is buttressed as the language of the bureaucracy. It is also the language of the newspaper of record, The Solomon Star. Solomons English has more authority.

The written form of Solomons Pijin is scrupulously phonetic. What is overheard in Solomons English and perhaps imperfectly understood has become a source of creativity. Words which clearly owe their creation to an auditory experience are finding their way, circuitously, via Solomons Pijin into written Solomons English. They may just be ephemeral, or may take root. So, 'It is on halt' might become the Solomons English form of 'on hold'. Solomon Islanders might 'hail abuse' rather than hurl it. These confusions are often revealing. Surely the country's recent civil troubles are reflected in the use of 'halt' and the idea of 'hailing' abuse? 'He was shot at point black range' is a more disturbing example.

As we have noted with 'part and partial', local experience has overlaid these phonetically confused versions of familiar English expressions: the coiner of 'factory wastes containing mud slugs is polluting the land' was probably more familiar with garden slugs than industrial sludge. A correspondent to the local paper writes of the need 'to dig dipper'. A water dipper is frequently encountered in this very hot country where water does not always come from taps. Another correspondent to the newspaper wrote of 'thumps down' to a proposal regarding an airstrip. Was he conflating the idiom 'thumbs down' with an experience of a landing in one of the local small planes? What do you make of the expression 'brushing the grass with a lawn mower'?

The struggle to formulate political procedures in a new nation is also reflected in new usages and formations and spellings; in 'the 'ayes have it', a-y-e is often rendered as the letter 'I' (another example of the power of the heard over the written).

Areas which cause anxiety produce the most linguistic creativity: 'our economy needs boasting' is a reaction to the fact that the country was bankrupt.

Perhaps future governments will escape into Pijin not only to communicate more effectively with voters and avoid grammatical difficulties but also as a way of integrating early post colonial convulsions. Solomons English may survive as a formal bureaucratic band across the unifying language of the country, Solomons Pijin. In any case the inextricable relationship of the two languages is not likely to become less complex.