These are Nuts: The Pandanus Register
A register is a variety of language that is used for a specific purpose or in a certain context. We use registers in our daily lives, usually in ways we are conscious of. The changing of register (or language altogether) between scenarios is often referred to as code-switching, something that we all do to varying degrees. Some people code-switch naturally, others do it to appear part of a group they want to associate with or feel accepted by. While it is often for reasons that draw on social inequality and prejudice, this isn’t always the case. For example, when doctors speak with each other about medical topics, they speak very specifically in large words that non-doctors will need explanation for. It saves time and needless description to use what we’ll call “doctor-speak” when with other medical professionals, but when a doctor needs to talk with a patient, they need to change their language. Doctors are specifically taught to change their word usage in order to connect more effectively with their patients and in order to prevent misunderstanding.
A waterfall in the Papua New Guinea Highlands.
One of the most interesting examples of code-switching can be found in several languages of the eastern New Guinea Highlands: the Pandanus Register. The pandanus nut comes from various species of plants similar to palm trees. They grow all over New Guinea, but they can be found in abundance in the dense forests of the highlands. These nuts have a huge cultural significance to the local populations, so much so that the harvest of them has become a profound ritual that everyone takes part in.
The “ritual,” as many have called it, is not one of actions or dance; it is primarily a linguistic ritual, one that deliberately abstracts the mother tongue in order to appease higher beings. The indigenous cultures fear who the Kewa speakers refer to as Kita Menda, the “mythical tender” of wild dogs in the densely-wooded areas where the nuts can be found. It is believed that human concepts and much of human language is displeasing to Kita Menda, as well as other spirits who inhabit the forests. By speaking in the Pandanus Register, the wild dogs are thought to be less likely to interfere with the humans. There are over ten words for “dog” alone in these languages which aren’t commonly used and considered “taboo,” emphasizing how often new words are thought of to refer to them.
In addition, it is believed that speaking freely in the areas would halt the growth of the nuts entirely. As a means to make peace with the forest spirits and ensure a successful pandanus nut harvest, each time these local groups take a trip to the dense forests, they speak in the aptly-named pandanus register, combining the nuances of specificities into a vagueness which allows for controlled communication without appearing too human to the surrounding forest.
What does that means exactly? To understand the pandanus register, we have to start thinking about our language conceptually, that is, trying to pinpoint the associations we possess between mental concepts and actual words. These populations in New Guinea have seemingly attempted to step into the mind of the forest, only aiming to use ideas that the forest itself could seemingly recognize. So, let’s look at some examples.
The fruit of the a pandanus tree. The nuts can be found inside and are dried and cooked.
Yo, in Kewa, means something similar to “leaf,” although it could refer to anything which hangs from a tree. Using this idea of “yo” meaning “thing that hangs,” the Pandanus Register makes use of the word yoyo, literally “leaf-leaf,” to mean “anything that hangs from a human.” Under this definition, yoyo can be used to mean ear, scrotum, breasts, and some kinds of hair, all things which “hang” from our bodies.
Palaa most closely translates to “tree,” however, thinking of it as the idea of “something which is made from wood,” the meaning can stretch from all the way from “tree-branch” to “fire.”
The word for ground is the same as road (kakare). The word for mouth, teeth, and tongue is akuku. Yandira could mean eye, seed, face, or head. Whether or not the connections made between all of these objects are universal or not, they have constructed a complex language that is built on real observations and contains grammar. The most popular verb when speaking in this register is “to have,” a verb which is considered by the culture to be the most passive of all. More specifically, one doesn’t need to do anything to possess something. We all have our lives even though we didn’t do anything to procure them. To be passive and avoid active decisions and language-use is to be safe in the forest where sticking out means getting detected by Kita Menda and his army of wild dogs.
The register has commonly been categorized as avoidance language, something which I would love to do a full post about one day. This can be thought of as a kind of preemptive, socially-determined code-switch in which one speaks in order to limit the communication or understanding of other people within (or outside of) the space. It is kind of like talking exclusively in euphemisms, avoiding words or constructions that pertain to anything labeled as “taboo.” Even though there must be some level of communicative confusion during the harvests, this is planned for and made up for with gestures, simple conversations, and reduplicated structures, all in the name of appeasing the spirits around them who don’t want to hear their native tongues. After all, it is just a register; once they have left the forest they are free to talk how they normally do. Regardless, it emphasizes just how arbitrary the reasons for our code-switching can be. Even though the majority of the world doesn’t know who Kita Menda is, the belief in him has impacted the language use in this area to a huge extent. It is evidence for how we use language to try to control our reality, while ultimately having to submit to it.
