Word mystery: solved

For as long as I can remember, Elena has been using the word "foochi." We thought, for the longest time, that this was just little-kid-nonsense word that she'd made up, and remained enamored of.

But then something clicked: I noticed that she always used the word in the same context: when she woke up, she'd cover her head with the sheet, as if she were a ghost, and say, "this is my foochi sheet," or "I'm a little foochi baby." So maybe... maybe she's remembering something amusing or important from her time in Kotlas, and "foochi" is Russian for "sheet" or "ghost" or "baby" or something. It sounds Russian, right?

Except it's apparently not Russian. I looked it up, using Google translate, and there's no Russian word close to "foochi."

So there it stood for a while, until this weekend, when I had an epiphany: there may be no Russian word quite like "foochi," but neither are there English words quite like "somefink" or "muffroom," both words which Elena also uses quite a bit. One shouldn't, in other words, put too much stock in the pronunciation of a five-year-old, especially one using a two-year-old's memories. So maybe "foochi" is really "thoochi" or "shoochi" or something.

And, lo and behold, шучу (pronounced "shuchu") is indeed a Russian word. It means "joking" or "kidding;" in the sense of "silly," I assume. As in, "I'm a little joking baby," or "I'm a silly little baby."

Google Translate has a "listen" feature, where you can hear a word's pronunciation. I turned it on and called Elena into the room. "Elena, what's this?" asked, and played "shuchu" back.

Her face lit up. "Foochi!" she said.

I added a word to the translation - малышка ("malyshka"), meaning "baby" to make "shuchu malyshka," or "joking baby." "Who's this?" I asked, and played it back to her.

"Me!"

That's about as close as you can get to a confirmation that "foochi" = "shuchu" = "joking/silly." And it gives us a bit of an insight into something Elena must have done when she was little: hiding under a sheet or blanket and making the orphanage nurses laugh. "Shuchu malyshka," they called her...and she never forgot it.

Searching for the perfect word.

I noted some months ago that Elena loves to be told (in Russian) that she's a sweetie, and she's smart: "Elena slatkaya, Elena umnia."  But she also, quite quickly, added her own request: Elena kukayaka.  "Elena slatkaya, Elena umnia, Elena kukayaka."  It's a little mantra; we'll go through the list and she'll prompt if one is missing.
Me: Elena slatkaya.
Elena: Umnia.
Me: Elena umnia.
Elena: Kukayaka.
Me: Elena kukayaka.

So we've been telling her, for months, that she's "kukayaka."  Only problem is, I didn't actually know what "kukayaka" means.  The usage here is pretty context-free; all I could tell is that the word was a noun or an adjective.  And Elena couldn't really tell us; I doubt too many three-year-olds are that good at providing definitions of words, let alone ones in a different language with no concrete context.

But, I thought, it's time to figure out what the word means.  That's not as easy as it sounds: two-year-olds (Elena's age when she learned the word) consistently add or subtract syllables, or change letter sounds, in the words they use.  Elena's no different, and she absolutely mispronounced some of her Russian words: substituting a K into "bumaga" (paper) to make "kumaga," for example.  So it's not only a hunt for what "kukayaka" means, it's a hunt for how it should actually be spelled and pronounced.

It's unlikely to actually be "kukayaka."  There is a "Denis Kukoyaka," who's apparently a Russian actor/comedian who starred in a 2012 Police Squad-style film, and has some notoriety (as seen in this odd little "Kukoyaka-style" video).  But, a) I don't think he was well-known in 2011, and b) who calls a baby by the name of a comedian?  "Oooo, my precious little Richard Pryor"?  C'mon. Nyet. Not likely.

So what's it likely to be?  I figured it's probably an endearment, similar in tone to "slatkaya" (sweetie), so I'd start there.  After a little searching, I found this list of Russian endearments for children. It doesn't have "slatkaya" or "kukayaka," but it does list "KUkolka," and that's awfully close: turn the L into a YA and it's the right word. (Pronounce both L and YA slowly and see how similar the tongue position is; an easy transposition for a toddler.)

"Kukolka" is a diminutive of "kukla," which means "doll."  (as in the title of the old TV puppet show: "Kukla, Fran, and Ollie"). "Kukolka," then, means "little dollie," in the same way that "slatkaya" means "little sweetie." 

That all seems to hang together as an explanation of Elena's "kukayaka," although when I suggest she's a "kukolka," she immediately corrects my pronunciation back to "kukayaka" (she being the resident expert on the Russian language).  So I'm not completely sure I have the correct meaning of the word, but it's at least a pretty good educated guess.

UPDATE, August 1: Elena now likes to also be called a "kukolka," although she now pronounces it as "kookagon," and considers it a seperate word from "kukayaka."  Still, "kookagon" amuses me, to the extent that it resembles an as-yet-undefined geometric shape.

The power of language

I want to expand on one of the points we made in the last post: the power of language and why it's important.  Elena's been part of our family for five months now, and we can see her command of English grow from day to day as her vocabulary expands, and (more recently) as she begins to master syntax and expressing more complex thoughts in a single sentence.

In some sense this isn't really surprising, because she is just about the right age for language acquisition.  But in another sense, it is surprising.  Let me quote from  Parenting Your Internationally Adoped Child, a fairly lengthy and sober book about what one can expect when adopting internationally:

Several common phases occur as a child learns a second language.  These are normal and predictable, but they can cause some frustration for parent and child.  The first is language loss, when use of the the first language ceases, as it does rather abruptly for most internationally adopted children.... The second is a silent period, during which a child uses neither her native language nor her second language. During this period a child may be shut down, listening but not speaking. Estimates vary, but most researchers believe this silent period lasts between three and six months.... The third and last phase is the emergence of the new language, which as you will discover, eventually does happen.

So it is often, "normal and predictable" to expect many children to remain silent for three to six months.  This was confirmed by a friend of ours, whose own children, both from Russia, had followed the pattern described above--she actually expressed surprise at how much Elena was talking!

I think part of this difference is due to Elena herself.  The staff at the orphanage in Kotlas told us she was something of a chatterbox, so language and communication might be more natural and more important for her, giving Elena more of an incentive to acquire new language skills.  She had a fairly good grasp of Russian, meaning she already had the skills in place to learn A LANGUAGE.  Then, if I understood what I read correctly, learning another language is not so difficult--its just using the same very basic skills to learn more words.
But I also think part of this difference is the work we did, small as it was, to learn a little Russian.  We learned a lot of useful phrases from the book Russian Phrases for Children, as well as a few more words for common foods, for example.  That wasn't as extensive a Russian vocabulary as Elena was used to, but it did give us a solid core of language, relating to everyday events, that we could use to immediately communicate with Elena. We could tell her things, and more importantly, she could tell us things. 

That smoothed the transition for Elena, because she didn't experience an abrupt loss of her first language.  I'm sure she experienced an abrupt reduction in the richness of expression she was able to master, but she could tell us what she wanted and expect us to understand her: the communication aspect of language still existed.  That gave her incentive to continue using language, and that made it easier for us to teach her English, because we can work English words into our conversations, or say it twice- in Russian and then English.  We're a the point now, five months in, that the Russian we use is pretty much optional.  Elena knows the corresponding English words already, and we're keeping the Russian words in use only as a comfortable link to the past (and because it's fun).

Our experience is anecdotal, almost by definition, but I think it's logical that smoothing the transition between a child's native language and English would maintain both the recognition of the utility of language, and the incentive to learn language.  It does take some effort for parents to learn to communicate in the child's native language, but (at least for us) it's not the kind of effort required to become fluent in adult-level conversational Russian.  It's the amount of effort required to memorize common phrases and words needed to communicate with a two-year-old: simple commands, common nouns, and some affectionate phrases.
About that last item: affectionate phrases.  An anecdote: One of the affectionate words in Russian Phrases for Children is сладкое (SLATkaya), meaning "sweetie"  A week or so after we got home from Russia, I told Elena she was a "slatkaya."  She obviously recognized the word, because her face completely lit up, and she pointed at herself and said, "Elena? Slatkaya?"  I nodded and she repeated it with more conviction.  We still use the word at least once per day, and Elena's face still lights up when she realizes that she's the slatkaya.  Her other favorite word is "umnia" for smart.  She loves to be told she is umnia when she has done something clever, and she makes sure to say it if we forget!  Before sleeping she always hears, "Elena is a slatkaya, umnia, ochen korosho baby!"  Sweet, smart and very good!  Even though she understands many words in English, the Russian words still quickly go straight to her heart.

Now isn't that worth learning a few new words?

UPDATE 1: Language

It's been a while since we've updated this blog, and that's mostly on purpose:  the intention of the blog was to let people know how our trips to Russia were panning out; now that we're home, I don't really want to turn it into a "funny thing our kid did today" blog.

But there are still some things that are related to travel, and Russia, and orphanages, that are interesting, so I'll do some occasional updates.  The first one is on language.

Probably the most common question we get asked is how well we can communicate with Elena, and how quickly she's learning English.  I'm going to answer that question, in the form of "Tips for parents thinking of adopting Russian chlidren."

TIP 1: Buy a Russian-for-adoptive-parents book.  We bought "Russian Phrases for Children;" it includes two pocket-sized phrasebooks (one for each parent!) and an audio CD.  The phrasebooks (and CD) are divided up by use: basic questions (are you hungry?), directives (come here), endearments (sweetie), and the like, so it's pretty easy to find what you want.  We memorized a few phrases and were able to look up more, so we could actually hold a mini-conversation with Elena in Russian right away.  Totally worth the money, because it really smoothed the language barrier.

TIP 2: Memorize a few basic words.  It's not that hard.  Yes and no.  Come here.  Would you like this?  What's that?  Who, what, where.  Hungry, thirsty, pee, poop.  Hi, bye.  That collection of words got us a long way in communication.

TIP 3: сказать.  "сказать" is Russian for "say," as in "say please."  That's one word that *wasn't* in our phrasebook, yet is extraordinarily useful.  How can you teach English without asking someone to say the Englich word?

TIP 4: Caca.  Yeah, caca, but not what you think.  (more after the jump)

Some last minute useful Phrases and Words in Russian

On this next trip back to Russia we will be 3 days in Kotlas where not many people know english so Andy and I need to be better orepared with some Russian words.  One phrase that gets you out of a jam is:  "Ya nye panimayo, ya amerikanskanska".  I can barely say it, but it means "I dont understand I am american".  Izvinitye is "Sorry."  Also I just learned "Ya nye gavaryu parruskie", meaning "I dont speak Russian".  

How about "Ya looblue lasisina,  ikra krasnaya, svinina", meaning "I love salmon, caviar and pork!"--the I want to be able to read the things I like on the menu.

We can tell Elena that she is smart and pretty, "Tih ochen umniah, krayseevayah." and ask her "Gdye matryushka, gdye koshka, gdye sabaka"?--where is the matrushka doll, kitty, and dog.  Hocheesh peet?  Hocheesh yest?  Hocheesh tualyet?  Need water, food or the toilet??

Peva pazhalsta-beer please...
Pamagitye pazhalsta- help please
Korosho-good

para spot-time to sleep

its late, time for me to sleep and we are not done packing, I cant believe we are leaving so soon!
paka-byebye

T

They laughed at the Wright Brothers, too

Language can be a tricky thing.

We've learned a handful of useful Russian words, to varying degrees of exactness. One that's particularly useful is ВОДА, the Russian word for "water." It's pronounced "vaDA," with the accent on the second syllable. Problem is, "vada" is kind of close to "water," which makes the word easy to remember, but also easy to accidentally mispronounce as "VAda" or even "VAta," with the accent on the first syllable.

"VAta," it turns out, is actually another Russian word (in Cyrillic, ВАТА). It means "cotton balls." So that time I bellied up to the bar, asked for a drink of water, and the bartender laughed at me? Yeah, now I know why. Or, at least, I think I do--I just hope that ВАТА doesn't have some other, secondary meaning, known and giggled at by any Russian above elementary school age.

...And if I should need a cotton ball I am set!  What is the plural though???

We got two passports, a couple of visas...

...But you probably still know our real names.  Even though they're in Cyrillic.

All foreigners visiting Russia need a visa. In order to get one, travelers need an invitation from a Russian citizen or a company, which is then taken to a Russian embassy or consulate, where the actual visa is issued. What this means in practice is that specialty companies will provide Russian visas to American citizens.  For a price of course.  The visas are pasted into your passport.

We've got two, very official-looking, with hologram.  As a bonus, our names are transliterated:
МОСКАЛИК, АНДРЕИ ДЖЕИМС and ПЕТЕРСЕН, ТЕРЕЗА Л

Write that down.

Cyrillic alphabet, part 3: the vowels

Once again, the modern Russian Cyrillic alphabet looks like so:
А Б В Г Д Е Ё Ж З И Й К Л М Н О П Р С Т У Ф Х Ц Ч Ш Щ Ъ Ы Ь Э Ю Я

We covered the consotants. The vowels, now, are the things that look like vowels, plus the things that look backwards. That means these letters:
А Е Ё И Й О У Ы Э Ю Я
A's and E's and I's and backwards N's and R's.

The vowel sounds are not quite as intuitive to the English speaker as consonants are.  One thing that helps is to note that the vowels are paired into "soft" and "hard" forms of the same sound.

As an example, most English speakers are familiar with the Russian word for "no," which is usually transliterated as "nyet."  The "ye" is a soft vowel; the corresponding hard vowel is a plain "e" as in the English word "net."

Cyrillic alphabet, part 2: the consonants

As you've seen, the modern Russian Cyrillic alphabet looks like so:
А Б В Г Д Е Ё Ж З И Й К Л М Н О П Р С Т У Ф Х Ц Ч Ш Щ Ъ Ы Ь Э Ю Я

Let's seperate the alphabet out into vowels and consonants. To my eye, the vowels are the things that look like vowels, plus the things that look backwards. The consonants are:
Б В Г Д Ж З К Л М Н П Р С Т Ф Х Ц Ч Ш Щ Ъ Ь

Group one: the Greeks
Most of the consonants come directly from early Greek, and are similar to the modern Greek consonants:
Β Γ Δ Ζ Θ Κ Λ Μ Ν Ξ Π Ρ Σ Τ Φ Χ Ψ Ω
The first group includes:

1. Б and В: Both originally come from the Greek beta (Β), but he pronunciation  has shifted.  The Б is pronounced like the English B, while the В is pronounced like the English V. That might seem odd, but B and V  share a historical connection. In some languages--Spanish, for example--B and V are pronounced the same, and somethimes even substituted in spelling (frex, ceviche, an acid-cooked citrus seafood appetizer, can be spelled ceviche or cebiche). In Russian, as in English, B and V are distinct sounds.  Just remember: in Cyrillic, the В is the V, and the Б is the B.
2. Г comes from the Greek gamma (Γ), and is pronounced like a G, as in gamma.
3. Д comes from the Greek delta (Δ). Take a close look at the shape--the trpezoidal Д looks like a truncated Δ. It's pronounced like a D, as in delta.

Cyrillic--Some Fun Russian Words

Here are some Russian words I have learned that I like.  Are they useful?  maybe.  Some words are just fun.
1. шоколад-Shocolad-chocolate
2. банкомат-Bankomat-ATM
3.  машины-Machina-car
4.  кошка-Koshka-kittycat
5.  птица-Pititsa-bird
6.  картофеля-Kartoshka-potato
7.  велосипед-Vilocipyet-bike
8.  икра-Ikra-caviar
9.  fotoaparat-camera

Chocolate was the first word we learned, by transliterating each letter from the ingredients list on a bag of cookies we bought at  a Hamtramck Polish/Eastern European Market.  It was an easy one, phonetically the similar.  In learning a new language, my thought is always start with learning food words; you have the motivation of not starving wherever you go.

Cyrillic alphabet, Part 1

We’re trying to learn at least a little Russian before we travel.  That’s not only because it should help, just a little, with reading street signs and menus, but also because it should help, just a little, in communicating with two-year-old Elena.

Russian, as you might know, is written in the Cyrillic alphabet.  The modern Russian Cyrillic alphabet looks like so:

А Б В Г Д Е Ё Ж З И Й К Л М Н О П Р С Т У Ф Х Ц Ч Ш Щ Ъ Ы Ь Э Ю Я

That’s just foreign enough to look difficult for those of us who use the Latin alphabet.  A few letters are familiar, some are backwards, some are odd.  However, it’s not so bad if you put it in a historical context.