Word Play

By Walter Kish

In last week’s column I broached the topic of the incursion of many English words into the Ukrainian language. Although to some extent this incursion makes it a little easier for the English-speaking visitor to Ukraine to cope with things, it can also lead to some confusion and bewilderment. This is because some English-sounding words used in Ukraine have quite different meanings than the original English.

Take the case of the word “prezervativ.” One might plausibly assume it to mean some form of ingredient or chemical intended to keep food from spoiling. In actual fact, the word is the common term for the prophylactic birth-control device better known as a “safe.”  I suppose one could say it does preserve one’s freedom from pregnancy or sexually transmitted diseases, but that would be pushing linguistic interchangeability more than a bit.

Another interesting example came to light when I recently started seeing new street signs in Kyiv, warning passers-by that this was an “evakuator” zone. I was puzzled at first, thinking this might be some new program to deal with evacuations in case of large-scale disasters or emergencies, only to be enlightened by a local driver that an “evakuator” was a tow truck, and the signs indicated a tow-away zone. Too bad these “evakuators” don’t consider any of the city’s sidewalks, often obstructed by cars, to be tow-away zones.

My wife was similarly bewildered on a shopping expedition when we first moved here. Seeing sale signs on a store for “furniture,” she was surprised to find that the store was selling not furniture, but sewing accessories such as zippers, ribbons, buttons, and the like.

Another commonly used word here is “aktsia” reminiscent of the English word action. However the two most common usages of “aktsia” have little to do with the English definition of the word. In Ukraine, “aktsia” commonly refers to either a share of company stock or to a promotional sale or campaign. I am constantly bombarded by advertisements from cellular phone service providers, touting their latest “aktsia” that gives me free calling in the evening or weekends or at special rates for a limited introductory offer.

A common term you hear often in the workplace is “bryhadir;” except here a brigadier has no military connection, but is simply a generic term for a supervisor or team leader. Similarly, an “internat” has nothing to do with computer networks, but refers to a boarding school or hostel.

The project that I have been working on in Ukraine involves dealing with credit unions and financial institutions, and I have run across some interesting financial terms derived from familiar English words. Assets and liabilities in Ukrainian are known as “aktyvy” and “passyvy,” which are actually rather appropriate adaptations of the adjectives active and passive. Although an “obyekt” here can mean an object as we know it in English, it more commonly refers to a building site or a project.

Some English-derived words used in Ukraine are related to their English counterparts but have different shades of meaning than what we are used to. “Meeting,” for instance, in Ukrainian usage, is a gathering of people; here it specifically denotes a protest or a demonstration rather than having a more general connotation denoting gatherings relating to business or between friends and associates.  An “akt” here in Ukraine is a generic statement or report regarding an event that has taken place. At the office, seldom a day goes by when I don’t see a half-dozen “akts” crossing my desk. 

I have gotten used to countless other words that would confuse your typical Canadian-Ukrainian or American-Ukrainian. I can still recall the amusement of a local friend when my wife told him that in Canada one of her favourite pastimes was to “lazaty po shtorakh” (wander through stores). Here that phrase translates into: “I like to crawl on curtains.” This usage reflects the common practice of Ukrainians in Canada to Ukrainianize English words, thereby turning store into “shtor,” (which here means curtain).  As time goes on, we, in Canada, sometimes even forget that words like “shtor” are not real Ukrainian words or, if they are, they may mean something completely different.

Evidently, when words cross over from one language to another, the results can be both unexpected and, at times, amusing.