A mess of collective nouns
Afriend recently shared a meme to a WhatsApp group I’m in. It read: “The reason there are so many spelling quizzes in the English language is because English spelling makes no sense.” I make a living writing in English. And I cannot agree more violently without organising a march to the Library of Birmingham and burning it to the ground.
My mother tongue is isiZulu, a language where the spelling is phonetic. Words are spelled exactly how they sound. And there are rules with few to no exceptions. I can spell words just by hearing them being pronounced. My younger brother lived in Rome and came back speaking fluent Italian because, as one of his professors observed, “Italian spelling is phonetic, just like your language.”
I’m not sure whether I’m raising future columnists or socially awkward geeks like their father. But my kids are prone to starting random, weird and delicious conversations.
The other day my first born wanders into the lounge, his shoulders shaking he was chuckling so hard. “English collective nouns are ridiculous. I just discovered that a group of pandas is called an embarrassment of pandas. I know pandas have metabolic problems and dark bags under their eyes, but I don’t know how they’d feel knowing they are considered an embarrassment.”
At this point I can’t help but start giggling myself. He goes on: “Do you know what a group of alligators is called? A congregation of alligators! Ha ha ha!” I wonder how my Catholic priest brother would feel about that, but I’m more concerned about how alligators would feel about being likened to churchgoers.
But the young man has a point. English collective nouns are weird and wonderful additions to the wanton orgy of irrationality that is the English language. Consider this: A group of crows is called a murder of crows. Did I stutter? A murder of crows!
What is fascinating about this is when you search for the origins of the collective noun, you discover there is general dissent about it. My favourite explanation, though, has to do with the fact that crows are believers and practitioners of capital punishment. And when one crow has committed murder, a murder of crows congregates to pass a death sentence which they then mete out on the spot, using their beaks.
Naturally, there are exceptions to every rule. There are English collective nouns that make perfect sense. For instance, an ostentation of peacocks. Can you think of a more ostentatious creature than a peacock?
We live on the cusp of the most technologically advanced era in human history. It’s only a matter of time before having our bodies cloned and our brains stored in memory sticks becomes commonplace. One of the folks at the forefront of signing up for that service will, no doubt, be one Donald John Trump. Then it won’t be too long before Trump “multiplies” and 19 of him appear for a photo op. I can’t think of a more apt collective than “an ostentation of naartjies” to describe that picture.
But I think we miss opportunities to progress our languages on a daily basis. My 12-year-old has the deepest bass voice out of the four “men” in the house. We call him Barry, after Barry White. But why use an American as a reference? We should call him Zondo, after the commission chair.
We should also coin collective nouns for groupings in our midst. It’s a no-brainer that a bunch of Bafana players deserve the same collective noun as pandas; an embarrassment of Bafana players. Don’t give me that look. Not only did these players fail to qualify for the World Cup this one time, they came up with a choreographed dance routine to celebrate this feat. If you disagree with this next one, swallow 11 pebbles baked for two hours at 230 degrees and then wash them down with a litre of Jik. A “choke of Proteas” cricket players. You know I’m right.
A group of owls is called a parliament of owls. I get this. Huge eyes indicating attentive brains looking after a country, right? But I suspect if we had a referendum among South African owls they wouldn’t endorse this characterisation. At this stage, even an inmate at Modderbee, convicted for molesting goats on a Bapsfontein farm, would be mortified at being mistaken for a parliamentarian. The three biggest groups in that building are a “stampede of EFF members”, a “confusion of DA members” and, with their average age, a “fossil colony of ANC members”.
‘It’s a no-brainer that a bunch of Bafana players deserve the same collective noun as pandas; an embarrassment of Bafana players’