A large part of the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) ÔÇô I am here referring to the monumental work written on historical principles since 1884 was written with the assistance of an American madman, surgeon, called M.C. Minor who was imprisoned in the Broadmoor Criminal Lunatic Asylum, near the village of Crowthorne in Berkshire, England. This shocking story is documented in a book called The Surgeon of Crowthorne: A Tale of Murder, Madness and the Love of Words by Simon Winchester first published in England in 1998. It was retitled The Professor and the Madman: A Tale of Murder, Insanity, and the Making of the Oxford English Dictionary in the United States and Canada. Let us for a while ignore the contribution of a mad man to this dictionary. Let us instead focus on the historical principles on which this dictionary is compiled.
I am persuaded that there is much that history can contribute to lexicography & linguistics and that there is much that linguistics and lexicography can contribute to the study of history. Words tell a historical story.
John Mackenzie writes in 1871 that “And just as the energetic and enterprising Englishman says, “How do you do?” as a form of salutation, the Bechuanas, who in times scarcity are in the habit of cooking a little food during the silence of the night, lest the neighbours should beg from them – make it their first question when they meet on the street the next day – “Lo yang?” – “What are you eating?” “Nothing whatever” is the conventional answer. This has passed into daily use as a mere form of greeting, and is used in times of plenty as well as scarcity”. The expression lo yang should be understood in the current orthography as lo jang. This lo jang may be the origin of the expression go jwang or go jewang. I actually realize that Batswana still great each other using food or the matter of eating. People still say Lo re timang? and the answer is still like the Mackenzie one Owaai nothing whatever.
We however still need to dig the roots of the Setswana language some more. For instance in my recent readings I have found that the words tlhobolo (gun) and lerumo (bullet) are old words which predate the coming a gun amongst the Batswana. The word tlhobolo used to mean a quiver for arrows during the Tswana hunting period. This meaning is archaic and no longer used. The term has been semantically extended to mean a gun. The word lerumo also used to mean a spear and it is now used to mean a bullet. The word tshane which is now common amongst the Bangwaketse as a surname has also fallen off from usage. It used to mean broad-bladed spear or sharpened stick used by herdboys. The name Tshosa, common amongst Ngwato & Kwen royalty is sometimes mistaken to mean to scare off or to intimidate, while it has an archaic meaning of a long spear with large blade. Since both tshane and tshosa have fallen of from daily usage, the two terms have become fossilized as personal surnames. The idiom go epela motho lemena is better understood in the traditional hunting patterns of the Tswana. The Tswana hunters used to dig large holes in the ground which were covered with light branches and grass. These concealed holes were called mamena. Some of them contained large sharp sticks pointing upwards awaiting to stab anything that fell in the hole. The hunters would therefore roundup will animals and chase them down a path that leads into lemena. A number will fall in, break a leg or neck and die.
Though go epela motho lemena has its roots in this practise it means now simply means to plan an evil deed against somebody.
There is therefore a need to dig the lost meanings of our words and store them in our dictionaries for the benefit of researchers and our children.
There is a need to study and understand the Setswana idiom since if those with a limited understanding of how the language may make less informative commentary. Consider John Mackenzie writing in 1871 “… the Bechuana have a hyperbolic way of speaking about pain or sickness, which is ridiculous when reproduced in Dutch. If a Bechuana has a headache, the idiom of his language requires him to say, “I am killed by my head;” if he has a sore finger, “I am killed by my finger”.
Batswana must do more to research and document their language. In the words of Sir Seretse Khama: “It should now be our intention to try to retrieve what we can of our past. We should write our own history books to prove that we did have a past, and that it was a past that was just as worth writing and learning about as any other. We must do this for the simple reason that a nation without a past is a lost nation, and a people without a past is a people without a soul” [Sir Seretse Khama, 15 May 1970].
Think about this. Robert Moffat was born on 21 December 1795. He arrived in Cape Town in 1817 as a missionary. He was 22 years old. He learnt Setswana and in 1830, 13 years after coming to Africa, he had already translated the gospel of Luke into Setswana. He was 35 years old. The following year in 1831 he translated parts of the Old Testament into Setswana. By 1838 he had translated a book of hymns into Setswana – about 80 pages. He was 43. 55 years (in 1872) after he landed in Cape Town, he had the whole Bible translated into Setswana. One man’s passion changed the trajectory of a people. We must do more.
