No fush thanks, we’re Kiwi
Kiwis are known for our fush and chup vowels but they are disappearing in places.
Those are the signs from a Marsden-funded research project focusing on how language is changing in Auckland’s super-diverse cityscape.
The big question – one researchers can’t yet answer – is why.
The Kiwi accent has had its detractors through the years, initially being labelled a colonial twang or word-murder.
As for its future, there are predictions of disappearing Ls and regional accents, though not everyone agrees.
Kiwis are known for special vowel sounds, the kind which make Aussies hear ‘‘sux’’ amid their chortling when we are clearly referring to a half dozen.
Other features seen as typically Kiwi include the ‘‘A’’ sound in mate – sounding kind of like ‘‘moyte’’ – and turning our Rs and Ls into vowels by saying things such as ‘‘bettah’’ (better) or ‘‘appuw’’ (apple).
But some young Aucklanders are bucking the trend, Victoria University of Wellington linguistics professor Miriam Meyerhoff said, and it seems to happen in areas with high migration.
‘‘This is the first evidence we have got that suggests that the train – because it was working kind of like a freight train, thundering on, the raising of these vowels – that actually something can stop that,’’ she said.
Meyerhoff got interested in the area after 20 years overseas, when she noticed some Auckland students didn’t sound like Kiwis were ‘‘supposed to – quote, unquote’’.
In 2015, she got a Marsden grant to look at how Auckland’s diversity is influencing language, focusing on younger speakers in mostly-Pa¯ keha¯ Titirangi, West Auckland, which has had decades of immigration, and ethnically diverse Mt Roskill.
‘‘What seems to be coming through . . . is people in Titirangi kind of sound like what everybody has always described New Zealand English as sounding like, in terms of their vowels.
‘‘But what’s going on in South Auckland, and in particular Mt Roskill, is some kind of retreat away from the really stereotypic vowels in New Zealand English.’’
It’s especially strong on the bat vowel, or the short ‘‘a’’.
What’s not clear is whether young people are trying not to sound like oldfashioned, cow cocky Kiwis, or if they’re just ‘‘averaging out’’ all the accents that they hear around them.
And Auckland might not be the only place to stamp its mark on the accent, she said.
‘‘I absolutely think there are regional differences emerging.’’
‘‘I doubt we’ll ever get to the point where they are in the UK, where people can go ‘No, no. That person doesn’t come from Liverpool, they come from just outside of Liverpool.’ ’’
Elizabeth Gordon is a long-retired linguistics professor, now a fulltime granny.
She doesn’t think NZ has regional variations, save Southland’s, but does predict our Ls will follow our Rs in disappearing, and being replaced with a vowel sound.
Still, she’s been surprised to notice her Auckland grandchildren intermittently pronouncing Rs.
‘‘I would have thought from all my research that wasn’t possible,’’ she said.
‘‘But when I listen to them it is possible, because I hear it.’’
Several of her grandkids have a NZ-born Samoan mother, she said, and she notices the influence on the rhythm of their speech, as well as some vowel differences.
‘‘I don’t talk like my parents and my children certainly don’t talk like me,’’ she said.
‘‘And my grandchildren absolutely don’t talk like me. A living language is a changing language.’’
However, changes often take decades to hit the public consciousness, she said.
For example, there are examples of fish being said ‘‘fush’’ in the 1930s.
Vocal fry – a lower, rough voice, exemplified by Kim Kardashian – has also been in focus recently.
Speech NZ chairwoman Gabrielle Thurston is noticing it among her students, and describes it as an unpleasant popping, rattling sound
Another trait among students is mumbling or not shaping their mouths – but Speech NZ isn’t trying to steer everyone towards Queen’s English.
‘‘Long gone are the days of changing accents or wanting to, because that’s what gives a person their personality,’’ Thurston said.
‘‘We just want people to be heard and to be understood.’’
Fifteen years of classroom teaching exposed Post Primary Teachers’ Association president Jack Boyle to a few varieties of NZ English.
He notes the ‘‘beautiful intonation, lengthened vowels, much more rhythmic cadence’’ of Ma¯ ori and Pasifika students he taught in the Hutt.
New words pop up too – he had to ask a class what ‘‘skux’’ meant.
Boyle’s also had comments on his twang and isn’t sure if it’s him or a burgeoning Wellington accent.
Wellingtonians can do fancy tequila ice cream and $8 coffees, he said, so ‘‘language is absolutely within our orbit’’.
However, he’s keen to get rid of ‘‘yeah, nah’’.
‘‘Is it just Kiwis having to be likeable and friendly? Even when you’re saying no they have to put a bit of yes in there.’’
‘‘A living language isa changing language.’’