Multilingualism in the Romanian translation of C. N. Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus: Sociolinguistic considerations

3.2.1 Translation of Nigerian English

As previously stated, Adichie’s novel is a first-person narrative expressed in Nigerian English, which makes it the predominant language of the novel. Besides, since Kambili, the narrator, is part of the postcolonial, educated elite striving to consolidate their social and political position via the use of English as close as possible to standard English, a considerable part of the dialogue is uttered in Nigerian English as well.

Due to the fact that it is close to British English, Nigerian English is not only covert for non-native speakers of English, but also its identification might pose difficulties even to a trained translator. In addition, even when Nigerian English is obvious in the source language text, its structural distinctiveness might not be transferable to a target language due to structural differences. However, when Nigerian English displays lexical particularities as compared to standard English, we hypothesize that their expression in Romanian might be possible. Here is an example worth discussing:

1. “If some Big Man in Abuja has stolen the money, is the V.C. supposed to vomit money for Nsukka?” Obiora asked. (Adichie 2003, 101)

“ —Dacă vreun ștab din Abuja a furat banii, ar trebui să-i scoată vicecancelarul de la el din burtă pentru Nsukka? întrebă Obiora.” (Adichie 2011, 100)

The translator’s version is an inspired solution in terms of domestication (Venuti 2008) by using the noun ‘ștab’ (bigwig) and the phrase ‘a scoate din burtă’ (to get out of one’s belly – Romanian idiom). Thereby, both meaning and social reality are effectively rendered in the target language, and native speakers of Romanian are familiar with both of them. What fails to be transferred though is the reference to the Nigerian sociocultural reality which manifests in distinct terms: ‘Big Man’ and ‘vomit’ are obviously Nigerian English linguistic outcomes attached to the Nigerian social and cultural milieu. This distinctiveness is erased in translation.

To continue adopting Venuti’s translation strategies (2008), opting for foreignization in contexts with pregnant sociocultural imprints could be a solution. Since Nigerian English displays a degree of foreignness to speakers of standard English, the foreignization strategy adopted in translation would render the alien feeling. The compromise seems to be the desirable solution in this situation (and possibly other translations dealing with multilingualism) even if it affects the naturalness of the target language. Thus, the verb ‘to vomit’ could be translated as ‘a vomita’ into Romanian, which would transfer the semantic load in a distinctive way to the Romanian target language while also enabling the recuperation of sociocultural information. Alternatively, the strategy of borrowing could be a solution for ‘Big Man’ as it can be understood by most Romanians as ‘a rich or a powerful man’ (explained by Aboh and Uduk 2016, 7), while also preserving the Nigerian sociocultural lexical marker.

3.2.2 Translation of Nigerian Pidgin English

The second variety of English, Nigerian Pidgin English, exhibits evident differences from standard English and the above-discussed Nigerian English. Its distinctiveness resides in a range of deviations from both, manifested at a grammatical, phonological, and lexical level, which impacts the translation. One interesting example is the Pidgin English word ‘Fada’, standing for ‘Father’ and referring to a priest. The character referred to is a constant and important presence in the postcolonial social picture, where the adherence to Catholicism is a mark of maturity and openness for adaptation to the modern world. Despite this and the fact that Nigerian English is the language of the newly emerged upper classes, the priest is referred to and addressed in Pidgin English as ‘Fada’. This reminiscence of the traditional world is treated in three different ways in the Romanian translation when ‘Fada’ is concerned:

1. “I remember the first one that came to Abba, the one they called Fada John” (Adichie 2003, 103).

   “ Mi-l amintesc pe primul care a venit la Abba, cel căruia îi spuneau Fada John.” (Adichie 2011, 63).

   Example (8) is not translated, but left identical in the Romanian version, with no explanation of its meaning, leaving the Romanian readers with no clue of the character’s identity. In example (9), the translator approaches the matter similarly by leaving the word untranslated:

2. “Ah! Ah! Fada!” (Adichie 2003, 248).

   “Ai! Ai! Fada!” (Adichie 2011, 170).

   As compared to example (8), here, the translator adds an explanatory footnote, namely: “Phonetic transcription of ‘father’ – priest in Nigerian English (translator’s note)” (my translation). This explanation is over 100 pages away from its first occurrence in the novel. The third and fourth times ‘fada’ appears, it is translated into Romanian. Here is one of the examples for illustration:

3. “Did you say he is a fada?” “Yes.” “A real Catholic fada?” (Adichie 2003, 261).

   “— Ai spus că e părinte? – Da. – Un părinte catolic adevărat?” (Adichie 2011, 178).

   Although example (10) is fully explicit in translation, the language particularity is erased. So, the semantic enhancement compromises the linguistic imprint and the cultural flavour.

   Informal dialogue is often provided with a touch of local authenticity by the author’s inserting Pidgin English. It is the case of greetings, for instance:

4. “Omelora! Good afun, sah !” (Adichie 2003, 67).

   The Romanian version is identical, with no translation provided (Adichie 2011, 41). The clue comes from the footnote stating: “Nigerian transcription of ‘Good afternoon, sir!’” (my translation).

5. “Gudu morni. Have you woken up, eh? Did you rise well?”

   “Gudu morni. Did the people of your house rise well, oh?” (Adichie 2003, 70).

   “— Bună dimineața! Te-ai trezit, ai? Dormiși bine?

   — Bună dimineața. Da’ oamenii din casa ta dormiră bine, ai?” (Adichie 2011, 43).

   The greetings in example (12) are translated and accompanied (in the first instance) by a footnote explaining: “In the original, ‘Gudu morni’ – variant of ‘Good morning’ in the Nigerian English dialect” (my translation). In addition, in order to indicate non-standard language, the translator resorted to the inclusion of dialectal grammatical features in some of the verbs and to a colloquial manner of questioning to compensate for the typical Nigerian ‘oh’.

   Examples such as the above ones are numerous: words or phrases in Nigerian Pidgin English translated into Romanian but with no indication relative to the language variety, which reduces the reception of the local feeling.

   Besides greetings, Pidgin English occurs in the speech of simple people, during times of political and social tension, for example:

6. “[…] We wan people who dey wear clean underwear, no be so? Abi the Head of state dey wear common underwear, sef, talkless of clean one? No!” (Adichie 2003, 281).

   “— Vrem oameni care poartă izmene curate, nu-i așa? Abi, șeful statului, ei poartă izmene obișnuite, să nu mai vorbim de curat? Nu!” (Adichie 2011, 172).

   The standard English version would be: “[…] We want people who wear clean underwear, is it not so? Is it not so, does the Head of state wear even common underwear, not to talk of clean ones? No!” Although the original utterances exemplified under (13) bear heavy Pidgin English marks, the translation above does not provide any indication of a non-standard language variety. In contrast, a few pages away, the following one does:

7. “[…] How you go just come enter like dis? Wetin be dis?” (Adichie 2003, 284).

“— Cum să veniți și intrați așa? Unde mai văz’t aș’ ceva?” (Adichie 2011, 174).

The standard English version of the questions expressed in Pidgin English in example (14) would be ‘How could you just enter like this? What is this?’. This time, the translation into Romanian, is definitely deviant indicating a rather uneducated speaker or a foreigner not able to handle the language variety. It might be the best possible solution, but in the English original the speaker did prove to be able to speak English correctly. This is just an example of characters switching to more colloquial or informal varieties (Pidgin English or Igbo) when under pressure or in emotional struggle.

3.2.3 Translation of Igbo or Igbo in translation

Igbo is the endogenous language used in Purple Hibiscus, which mixes with the two English language varieties previously discussed. It occurs mainly in dialogic interactions but, at times, also in the narrative. It draws attention due to its alien nature, systematic use, and frequent semantic opaqueness. Hence, the semantic flow of the novel does obviously not rely on Igbo, but this local language has a substantial contribution to the construction of the cultural and social contexts instead. Indeed, it is the language in which cultural items are expressed (traditional rites and rituals, food items), but more so social-related aspects. Even though Igbo is banned by Kambili’s father as the exponent of the elite, the imperialistic-derived aristocracy, and considered the language of heathenness and primitivism, it is very commonly used in personal address, in expressing orders and exclamations. The fact that the characters employ Igbo in such circumstances effectively pictures the remnant archaic social structure and hierarchies of the Igbo community.

What is particular about Igbo is that it is embedded in the narrative and in the dialogue so naturally as if it were perfectly understandable, whereas many times its meaning remains hidden or can be inferred at its best. Other times, the author doubles the Igbo words or phrases in English enhancing the reader’s understanding. These peculiarities of the use of Igbo in the original novel are largely preserved in the translated version, which entails the preservation of the semantic, cultural, and sociolectal values as such. In what follows, a few examples are discussed in an attempt to illustrate the above assertions:

1. “Omelora!” (Adichie 2003, 66).

   ‘Omelora’ is the manner of addressing people having authority in a community in which hierarchy is strictly observed. It is preserved as such in the translation as many times as it occurs in the source text. Its meaning is explained within the narrative, when Kambili relates the way her father was appointed manager and gained the title of ‘Omelora’. Another title of superiority is ‘Oga’, the meaning of which comes to light from the contextual narrative as well. This makes its preservation in translation natural along with the adjacent intra-textual explanation:

2. “He was saying that Big Oga’s assistant—Ade Coker referred to the head of state as Big Oga even in his editorials.” (Adichie 2003, 247).

   In Adichie’s novel familial address in Igbo is always present; the participants in the dialogue call each other by naming the interlocutor’s relationship to them (‘my husband’, ‘my child’, ‘my sister’, etc.). Examples (17) and (18) embed the explanations:

3. “She did not call him by his name, she called him ‘dim’, ‘my husband’[…]” (Adichie 2003, 288).

4. “[…] nwanne m nwanyi—my sister” (Adichie 2003, 310).

   As compared to the two examples above, in example (19), the meaning of ‘mwa m’ can be easily inferred from the context as meaning ‘my child’. This is valid in the Romanian target language text as well, where the Igbo words did not need translation:

5. “I joke with you, nwa m. Where would I be today if my chi had not given me a daughter?” Papa Nnukwu paused.” (Adichie 2003, 102).

   “— Eu glumesc cu tine, nwa m. Unde aș fi astăzi, dacă chi-ul meu nu mi-ar fi dăruit o fiică? Papa-Nnukwu făcu o pauză.” (Adichie 2011, 62).

   As for the Igbo ‘chi’ in example (19), its meaning – ‘my God’ – (Anamelechi 2009) remains hidden or is revealed by repetition in five different contexts throughout the novel. It is made clear neither in the source text nor in the target text as was the case with the previously analysed instances. In Romanian, it acquires determination with the definite article added after a hyphen.

   In contrast, ‘Chukwu’ – ‘The Supreme God’ – (Anamelechi 2009) is explained in English in the original novel and translated together with its explanation into Romanian:

6. “This is what our people say to the High God, the Chukwu,” Papa-Nnukwu said.” (Adichie 2003: 101).

   “— Asta spune poporul nostru către Marele Zeu, Chukwu, zise Papa-Nnukwu” (Adichie 2011, 62).

   Greetings are also often expressed in Igbo. The respectful salute below is explained in the very context in which it appears:

7. “I watched Aunty Ifeoma sink to one knee and say, ‘Igwe!’ in the raised voice of a respectful salute, […]” (Adichie 2003, 115).

“Am urmărit-o pe tușica Ifeoma lăsându-se într-un genunchi și spunând Igwe!, cu vocea ridicată într-un salut respectuos […]” (Adichie 2011, 70).

Adichie’s procedure of code-mixing by means of glossing is illustrated in examples (16), (17), (18), and (20). This procedure entails the author’s intra-textual translation from Igbo into English. This procedure remains valid in the Romanian version where Igbo is translated into Romanian.