The Return of Mr. Japanese Language Person

Greetings everyone! It's been a few years hasn't it? (Read the first ever Mr. JLP post here.)

It doesn't really matter where I've been, because I'm here now with more helpful Japanese tips. Today I'd like to look at a few common word pairs that give Japanese students fits as they try to avoid embarrassing themselves in public. In fact, these word pairs are so well known that almost every student of Japanese already has been warned about them. Then why I am wasting your time with more semi-useful information? One reason. No one tells you that your first mistake won't happen until after you have become confident in your Japanese speaking ability. Yes, the cruel irony is that you won't sound like a total newbie until after you feel like you have already graduated from the ranks of phrasebook Japanese speakers. In an effort to save just one intermediate speaker from looking like a rookie, Mr. Japanese Language Person has made his return.

All Carrots Have Equal Rights

Watashi wa ninjin desu.

If you have a smattering of Japanese, you will know that ningen, with a hard "g," means human and ninjin, means carrot. The words sound different enough that learners can easily become seduced into believing that they will never confuse them. A problem emerges later when one learns that "-jin" is also a convenient suffix that can be added to the end of any country name to describe a person of any nationality from America-jin all the way through to Zimbabwe-jin (yeah, I know America should be converted to Amerika in Japanese, but I have no idea how Zimbabwe is written in katakana and I would rather write this overlong explanation than take a brief moment to look it up. There is a reason they call me Mr. Japanese Language Person and not Mr. Nihongo-jin).

So, long story short, "jin" is another reading of the kanji for person, and it is used frequently as a suffix meaning exactly that, just not when we are talking about carrots.

Let's consider a hypothetical situation where one might get in trouble. Mr. J (not Mr. JLP, just to be clear) is having an innocent conversation with his sister-in-law in Japanese, playing to his strengths and making the most of his limited vocabulary and command of grammar. At some point the conversation subtly shifts into deeper topics such as politics and current affairs. Mr. J begins to surprise himself with his ability to sustain the conversation and begins to feel a surge of newfound confidence. Suddenly, the conversation shifts again, and Mr. J desperately wishes to make a profound statement about dignity and universal human rights. Two words flash in his head, ningen and ninjin. He rapidly tries to distinguish them in his mind as the sentence begins pouring out of his mouth. For some reason, ningen reminds him of doll, but he is not quick enough to remember that doll is actually ningyo. Certain that he does not wish to advocate for the rights of dolls everywhere, he says ninjin.

I'm a human being! (From Onibaba, 1964)

As soon as he sees the surprised look on his sister-in-law's face, he realizes his mistake. Ninjin means carrot, dammit, and he wanted to say ningen all along. It's too late. His sister-in-law's mocking laughter is already rattling his sense of worth as a human being and as a carrot. Her ijiwaru reputation preceding her, Mr. J knows that there is little he can do but endure her merciless laughter even as he rues the forbearance with which he had received her mistakes in English back when it was their shared language.

See! Do you want that happening to you one day? I thought not. Take my advice, one ningen to another, ninjin are for eating and snowman noses--nothing more.

Anko In, Unko Out

Anko and unko. Now this word pair is a doozy with the potential to get disgusting really quickly. You see, anko is a sweet bean paste used in countless Japanese desserts. While it is not universally loved by foreigners in Japan, count Mr. JLP as one gaijin who just can't get enough of the stuff. Unko, on the other hand, is, well, harder to explain in polite company. Let's just say that it is the solid waste produced after digesting large amounts of food. So, how does one go about avoiding the embarrassment of accidentally saying that one just loves the taste of, well, unko, while trying to impress a Japanese friend that they are down with the local cuisine?

If you haven't met the beloved children's character Anpanman, he might be a good place to start. You see, anpan is a delicious snack that it is made from anko (an) and bread (pan). Anpanman, of course, is a superhero with a head made of anpan. Somewhat of a messiah figure, Anpanman is capable of sacrificing his head as a snack to stop evildoers, only to have a new head baked for him so he can fight another day. Long story short, if you can remember Anpanman-anpan-anko, you will always remember that the food starts with "a."

As for unko, what can Mr. JLP say? Take the easy way out and use the cutesy word "unchi" whenever you want to talk about unko (and when else would you want to talk about unchi anyway, besides cutesy situations like changing diapers and avoiding dog deposits on the sidewalk?). There is no equivalent word for anko like anchi, so this could keep you from putting your foot in it. And by it, Mr. JLP means unchi.

Both Can Be Children's Toys, Come to Think of It

Kendama, kendama, kendama . . .

Oh boy. If you thought talking about unko was uncomfortable, wait for this last section. A kendama is an awesome children's toy that teaches hand-eye coordination. It involves a stick tied to a heavy ball, and the object of the toy is to catch the ball in as many ways as possible. You can learn more about kendama from another Over a Hedge post here.

Kintama literally translates as "golden balls." If you are familiar with the title of a Spanish movie with the same name, you'll have a sense that this is the type of slang used to describe a certain feature of the male anatomy that has crossed national boundaries and languages. Mr. JLP isn't sure about you, but he knows he NEVER wants to accidentally suggest to a bored child that a great diversion is playing with kintama. Even worse, did you know there is a bizarre children's game Japanese preschoolers play called "chin-chin?" The basic object of the game is for boys (it's always boys!) to interlock their fingers, and extend the index fingers kind of like a fake gun. Then they chase the nearest man in the room while ominously repeating "chin-chin, chin-chin" while trying to poke the man in the kintama!

Mr. JLP has had the misfortune of being on the receiving end of this game not once, but TWICE while teaching in Japan. The first time, he was trapped in a small conversation school classroom. The second time he was in a preschool, and the daycare workers stood by and did NOTHING while he frantically ran around the school trying to preserve his ability to foster the next generation of Japanese Language Persons.

So, how does one go about avoiding becoming the unwitting target of the dreaded "chin-chin" game? Here's a mneumonic that might work. Ken is a short form for wooden sword in Japanese. Kendama are also made of wood, so that might help. Mr. JLP has just re-read the two previous sentences and realized they might be less helpful than he intended for those who see double entendres everywhere.

Let's try this again. Kin means gold. Kinyobi is Friday (gold day, pay day, get it?). Kin-kinyobi-kintama. Simple right?

Mr. JLP is starting to feel like he is being less helpful with each passing sentence. How about avoiding slang completely and focusing on safe dictionary words. Banish that second word from your mind and just recite kendama, kendama, kendama over and over again like a Buddhist chant until it is the only word in your mind. Only then will you reach a place where you hear the definition "a stick, a ball, and a cup" and think "kendama."

Gambatte ne.*

*Try your best.

Submit your questions about Japanese usage to Mr. JLP in the comments section below.