Nederkaans / Afri-Dutch: Similarities

I haven't written a lot about the Dutch language, but this doesn't mean that it is not an integral aspect of our daily lives in the Netherlands. In fact, it is likely one of the biggest changes and all-encompassing challenges that our family had faced in the past year. We hear Dutch daily. We read Dutch daily. We (try to) speak Dutch daily. 

The journey of learning any new language is such a complex topic that it's difficult to capture the essence in a blog post. And to an Afrikaans-speaking person, it's even more difficult to describe the surprises and emotions of learning Dutch: Dutch is so familiar. And so foreign at the same time. One moment you (think you) are speaking it fluently. The next minute, you feel like an absolute beginner. It's exciting and amazing and easy. It's frustrating and annoying and exhausting.

As an Afrikaans-speaker (or even South African in general), it is true that you already encompass a very rich Dutch vocabulary. But being able to string the words together to form coherent sentences, require you to almost forget what you know about Afrikaans at the same time.

Here are a few interesting similarities between Afrikaans and Dutch, purely based on my experiences and observations over the past year (and therefore not necessarily linguistically correct):

• Many Afrikaans words starting with an "s", exist in Dutch but start with a "z" instead. Examples: see, ses, Sondag, swaar become zee, zes, zondag, zwaar.
• "Sk-" words in Afrikaans become "sch-". Examples: skaap, skool, skat, skoen become schaap, school, schat, schoen.
• Plurals usually end with "-en" in Dutch. Examples: eiers, skape, jasse, kinders become eieren, schapen, jassen, kinderen.
• Afrikaans "y"-words become "ij" in Dutch. Examples: hy, lyk, myne, byna become hij, lijk, mijn, bijna.
• Afrikaans "-lik"-words become "lijk" in Dutch. Examples: vrolik, hartlik, wonderlik become vrolijk, hartelijk, wonderlijk.
• The "ë" in Afrikaans words change to "ge" in Dutch. Examples: oë, reën, spieël, vroeër become ogen, regen, spiegel, vroeger.
• Afrikaans "ee"-words get an extra consonant in Dutch. Examples: leer, teen become leren, tegen.
• Afrikaans "ou"-words often become "auw" in Dutch. Examples: gou, blou, nouliks become gauw, blauw, nauwelijks.
• Afrikaans words ending with "ie" change to "je". Examples: vriendjie, meisie, handjie, kindjie become vriendje, meisje, handje, kindje.
• Afrikaans words ending with an "a" get another "ag" in Dutch. Examples: vra, dra become vraag, draag.
• Afrikaans "eeu"-words get an additional "w" in Dutch. Examples: leeu, sneeu become leeuw, sneeuw. 
• Where an "ow" is present in the middle of the word, the "w" often changes to "v" in Dutch. Examples: owerheid, tower, rower become overheid, tover, rover.
• Where a "g" is present in the word, it changes to "cht" in Dutch. Examples: egter, regs, lig, agter become echter, rechts, licht, achter.

There you have it. My list of "rules" which will instantly provide an Afrikaans-speaker with thousands of Dutch words for everyday use! 

If you are Afrikaans, you will therefore be able to recognise and read Dutch. You might even be able to understand it without being exposed to it before. Amazing, right?

Until you learn that many everyday Afrikaans words don't exist in Dutch.

Or worse: They exist, but the meaning is different. 

Or the worst: They exist, but refer to objects or actions which should never be discussed in polite Dutch conversation.

Not to mention the thousands of Dutch words which don't exist in Afrikaans. 

Or has a different meaning in Afrikaans. 

Or refer to objects or actions which would never be discussed in polite Afrikaans conversation, but now fill the pages of children's books.

But I'll leave all of that fun for later. 

For now, if you're Afrikaans, let yourself believe that you can understand and read and even speak Dutch. 

We did the same. And boy, were we wrong.

Months and Seasons (Easy, right!)

  

Colours, Shapes and Numbers (Oh so easy!)

 

Sentences from a Dutch children's book (Mmm, perhaps not so easy anymore?)

Code Red

Earlier in the year we were still hoping to visit South Africa for a blissful beach holiday in December, but traveling became increasingly difficult due to Covid restrictions. Therefore, in the weeks leading up to the holidays, we started making a list of things to do in Europe: Visit Christmas markets, drink gluwhein and chocomel at quint restaurants, do Christmas shopping, perhaps even go for a ski holiday in Austria or Germany. Or France or Switzerland!

All our plans evaporated overnight when the Corona cases increased rapidly and everything closed down: Schools, restaurants, Christmas markets, shops, ski slopes, borders. I'm thankful that we could still experience the magic of Sinterklaas in November and early December with pepernoten and sjokolade letters, Sinterklaas songs (yes, we all learnt and sang them!), traces of naughty Pieten in our house and at school, carrots for Ozosnel and drawings for Sinterklaas, cadeautjes, dress-up and a Pietengym, the Sinterklaasjoernaal, and bingo with Sinterklaas (online).

The highlight of December was a fantastic Christmas dinner at friends (while adhering to the strict Covid regulations) and night-time walks in town to see the Christmas lights and decorated trees. Other than that, we went for walks in the parks, arranged playdates, baked, played board games, and took our daily dose of Vitamin D. 

Usually, the Dutch spend 70 million Euros on fireworks per year and New Years apparently sounds like a warzone. This year, even though fireworks were banned to reduce the casualties at hospitals, loud bangs still filled the air. We bought oliebollen with poedersuiker from food trucks which popped up all over town, read, turned the oliebollen into vetkoek, cycled, built puzzles, intrigued our Dutch neighbours with our oliebollen / vetkoek tales, and took our daily dose of Vitamin D.

The schools remained closed, home-schooling (aka watching a lot of tv) commenced, and to our dismay the gebakkramen and their olienbollen disappeared! We amused our Dutch neighbours with tales of eating oliebollen / vetkoek all year round in South Africa, and we took our daily dose of Vitamin D. 

And then, just as we ran out of exciting Corona-proof winters activities... it snowed! With each of the three glorious snowfalls in January, children and grownups alike enjoyed snowball fights and made sneeuwpoppen in the park. The snow usually only remained for a few days, depending on the area, and it was just enough to enjoy it thoroughly.  

However, the best was yet to come: Early in February the Netherlands experienced the coldest temperatures in nine years (at -14 C, we experienced the coldest temperatures ever) and a code red was announced throughout the country. We all huddled inside excitedly waiting for a majestic snowfall, but the frozen canals, dams and lakes were even more impressive! We watched in amazement as a dam in a nearby park slowly turned to ice with each passing day. 

Then, one day, children started venturing out onto the ice! Soon, even grownups and pets were playing and skating on the frozen dam, with us watching in amazement from the side. This was very far removed from my youthful ice skating experiences at the Kolonade!

The following weekend, we felt adventurous and decided to take a road trip, which brought us to the snow-covered countryside of Nederweert. There we ran into the winter-version of a South African bring & braai: Families were showing up at a massive lake with chairs, drinks, and sleds in hand, while groups of young children were arriving via bicycle, their ice skates dangling from their handlebars. Everyone found a spot next to the frozen lake, with some even positioning their chairs on the lake. And then, fun was had by all as everyone camped out next to / on the lake and skated along. 

We even felt brave enough to venture out onto the ice ourselves. 

I never thought I would be thankful for cold weather, but in the absence of Christmas, New Years, and Carnival celebrations, the snow and ice presented much needed excitement for our first European winter.

Preparing for Sinterklaas

I have barely fully reflected on our first Dutch summer and am still taking in the expressive colours of autumn, my new favourite season. And even so, we're already late in preparing for Sinterklaas.

Yes, it's the beginning of November and the Sinterklaasjoernaal - a special daily TV broadcast reporting on the Sint's preparations, movements and challenges - commenced last night. Thereafter our toddler was so excited that he immediately drew Sinterklaas a picture of the gift he wanted on pakjesavond, which had to be accompanied by a (Dutch, of course) verlanglijstje (wish list) to the Sint. Hence, I have learned that the word autootje (small car) contains an insane number of  vowels in awkward places.

My head is already spinning from all the new festive terms and concepts, and clearly the hype will only escalate over the next month. Therefore I thought it wise to detail everything I have already learned, and have yet to learn, about Sinterklaas (the man) and Sinterklaas (the celebration).

What I (thankfully) already know:

• Sinterklaas is both a person and a day, which is celebrated on 5 December in the Netherlands and 6 December in Belgium.
• Sinterklaas should not be confused with Santa Claus. They are two very different people and Santa Claus doesn't visit the Netherlands - only Sinterklaas does.

• He has helpers called Pieten (and, unless you want to spur a heated debate, any adjectives should be avoided at all cost) and a horse called Ozosnel (Oh so fast). Until 2019 his horse was called Amerigo, but after 29 trusty years of service the horse had retired. While Amerigo was a white horse, Ozosnel is black. As far as I know, adjectives are still allowed when referring to the horses. 
• Sinterklaas lives in Spain and as we speak he is on his way to the Netherlands on a steamboat, accompanied by his Pieten. It's true, because we saw it on the news last night. It was also reported that the Pieten are missing a bag of coal and might therefore not reach the Netherlands on time. We will remain glued to the TV this week to see how they will resolve this challenge. 
• Each town and village seem to have a Sinterklaasintocht where you can see Sinterklaas arrive on his steamboat (if he doesn't run out of coal) on 14 November and where the Pieten will hand out pepernoten to the children. Due to it being fun corona, this year's intocht has unfortunately been cancelled.
• During his time in the Netherlands (14 November until 5 December), children leave their shoes out at night and may receive small gifts, chocolate letters and pepernoten from Sinterklaas and the Pieten. 5 December is pakjesavond, where children usually receive a bigger gift.
• The Pieten sometimes leave children fopcadeau's or tricks - especially if the children have been naughty.
• You are only supposed to put up your Christmas tree and decorations after Sinterklaas.

Clearly parents Sinterklaas and the Pieten work very hard in the three weeks following their arrival in the Netherlands on 14 November. Therefore I have several questions to which I better find answers in the next week:

• Why does Sinterklaas live in Spain if he's Dutch? Can we also send him letters in Spanish? (not that that's an option, I'm just curious). Who hands out gifts to the kids in Spain when Sinterklaas is in the Netherlands, being all Dutch?
• I haven't seen Ozosnel on the steamboat. Is he there? If not, how will he get to the Netherlands?
• How does Sinterklaas receive the letters from the children? Clearly he is now on a boat and then he will travel around the Netherlands. Should the letters be left in the shoes?
• How does the horse travel around the Netherlands? As far as I know he cannot fly.
• Apparently it's vitally important to learn a few Sinterklaas songs. At which stage (and to whom) do you sing these songs?
• Does Ozosnel live on a farm in the Netherlands for the whole year and only see Sinterklaas for three weeks per year? Where is this farm!? Who takes care of him there?
• Who writes the funny personal poems which is supposed to accompany gifts? Sinterklaas? The Pieten? The horse? Or should the poem accompany the letter which is sent to Sinterklaas?
• Do the Pieten really leave pepernoten strewn across the floor and in the shoes? Surely you are not supposed to eat it? Is it then classified as a gift or a fopcadeau?
• How does Sinterklaas enter your house if you don't have a fireplace? How does the horse enter your house even if you do have a fireplace, or does he remain on the roof like Santa Clause's reindeer? How can he remain on the roof if he doesn't fly!
• Exactly how often does Sinterklaas visit each house during his time in the Netherlands (a gift per day for 21 days can surely not be right?) and what is his budget for these gifts?
• Should a carrot be left with the shoes for the horse?

Now that I think about it, these illogical logistical questions are not all that different whether you are waiting for Kersvader in sunny South Africa on 25 December or Sinterklaas in the Netherlands early in November. 

Our parents did a wonderful job manoeuvring all these questions and challenges. And so will we.

It's all about having fun with family (although we will miss them all very much this year).

And just because none of the details really matter, we might just be adventurous, go wild, break the rules and put up our Christmas tree before celebrating Sinterklaas this year.

Ice Cream Outings

It's hard to believe that we were parading in swimwear and eating ice cubes straight out of the freezer, less than two months ago. We had to set an alarm at night as a reminder to go to bed, because the days lasted until 11 pm. We cycled along farms and villages for ice cream (once, even 40 km for legendary ice cream), because the days were long and sunny and the countryside scenery, green and lush - even in the midst of a heatwave.

We visited farms and museums, parks and community gardens. We swam in rivers, picnicked in parks, played soccer, hiked, cycled and strolled. We discovered the most amazing little villages where we treated ourselves to koffie verkeerd and vlaai. The parks were filled with children and the sidewalks with their drawings. 

Now that the sun is setting at 5:30 pm and the mornings are filled with mist and frost, it seems like a good idea to recall the long and lazy summer days. And all the ice cream.

Basisschool

The Dutch school system is complex. In fact, it is so complex that I had given up trying to understand it while still in South Africa, reasoning that this will be one of the first things which we will unravel after our arrival in the Netherlands. Of course, then "the year which should never me named" happened and subsequently schools closed and reopened.. and closed again, school visits and enrolments were planned and cancelled, waiting lists changed... and then the two-month summer holiday commenced. 

Therefore our toddler hadn't been to school for 6 months and we had completely missed the Peuterspeelzaal / Gastouderopvang / Kinderdagverblijf phase. Which is probably just as well, because the cost of childcare before the age of four is a mathematical nightmare which depends on several factors: Your household's annual income, your household's combined working hours, the hours and days your child will spend at daycare, the subsidy you will receive from the Belastingsdienst (tax authorities), whether the Gemeente (local municipality) has a VVE (pre-school education) program for non-Dutch speakers, and whether the GGD (health authorities) will approve the Gemeente's VVE request. 

Oh and have I mentioned that there's often a two-month waiting period, so while you think you are being pro-active by phoning all parties involved and explaining your situation and specific requirements (often in Dutch!), you are already late in starting to unravel the process. But the good news is that all of this becomes a lot simpler and cheaper once your child turns four. Or so we naively thought...

Basisschool (Primary school) is compulsory from the age of five, but children can attend from the age of four. And when I say four, it is literally on the day that they turn four. This means that new wide-eyed four-year olds arrive at Groep 1 of Basisschool throughout the school year. It also means, depending on when your child's birthday is, that they can remain in Groep 1 / 2, which is often one class, for two full school years, or for three years. This also depends on which transfer cut-off the school uses: A child has to turn six before 1 October / 1 December / 1 January to be transferred to Groep 3 where they will start reading and writing.

Basisschool has eight groups (Groep 1 - Groep 8), therefore children will go to the same school from the age of 4 / 5 until the age of 11 / 12. Where we live, primary schools are much smaller than what we were used to in South Africa: A small school has 160 pupils and a big school 400. This means we have numerous schools within a 3 km radius of our house, which is wonderful for walking or cycling to school and getting to know the neighbourhood children. Schools can be selected based on religious affiliation and teaching methodology and you therefore have options like: Catholic Montessori, or Protestant Dalton, or Openbare (non-religious) Vrije schools.

Each age group in Basisschool has 1 - 4 classes with 20 children each, often combined as Groep 1 / 2, Groep 3 / 4, etc. But sometimes a class with two groups could be split into two classes with one age group later in the year (because of the 4-years olds arriving throughout the school year, see?). At our toddler's school, three teachers oversee two classes with two age groups per class, because teachers often work on selected days / half-day. 

Teachers are not responsible for opvang (pre-or afterschool care) or tussen-opvang (the lunch-hour), where children often go home. Opvang is available next to the school in a separate building and you have to arrange that like the aforementioned Gastouderopvang / Kinderdagverblijf at an additional cost, which can be determined by multiplying your blood type by your IQ. Tussen-opvang can be arranged at the school (also at an additional cost).

Pre-corona, the school hours were from 8:30 until 14:45, except for Wednesdays when school ended at 12:20 and every fortnight when school ended at 12:30 on Fridays. Oh, and some days are study days where there is no school, because the teachers have to prepare the curriculum or plan for special events. 

I have to admit that we navigated all of the above uncertainties and ambiguities like champs: We selected a school close to us with a modest teaching approach. We attending a kennismaking with the school, which, might I add, was in Dutch. We completed all the forms. In Dutch. We arranged and our toddler attended the wendagen (visiting days for newcomers). Obviously in Dutch.

We even bought the correct gymschoenen, drinkbekekers and fruitbakjes (after thorough research in Dutch) and learned that gym shoes are not just "tekkies" like we initially thought. Our toddler even had a rain jacket in his school bag, for the unpredictable Dutch weather. 

We. Were. Doing. This! 

The Dutch Way!

On the first day of school, we joined the other (Dutch) parents and children, who arrived on every imaginable style of bicycle - from skopfietsen to bakfietsen. We greeted the teacher and exchanged murmurings about the summer holidays (in Dutch!) and when our toddler entered the classroom without tears we were incredibly relieved proud.

We had done this. First Dutch school day done!

But... we were not informed that the first school day's hours where different than planned / communicated / researched / double-checked, because: During the corona-period, the hours had been updated to end 45 minutes earlier. Except for Wednesdays, which were now longer. And every-second Friday, which were still shorter than the normal Fridays. Obviously. 

Let me just say this: We are very, very glad that we selected the closest Basisschool to our house. And we now know that we can reach the school within 4 minutes of receiving a phone call from the teacher...

Deciphered: Gymschoenen met klittenband

Boodschappen

There are wonderful Dutch words and phrases to describe everyday activities in a way which makes it sound more interesting: Fietsen is cycling, sporten is going to the gym (doesn’t "sporten bij een sportschool" just sound like something exciting you want to be a part of?) and feesten is a having a party (again, who doesn’t want to go to "een feestje!"). Feesten shouldn't be confused with borrelen though, which is the lighter, after-work version where you will likely encounter borrelhapjes like bitterballen and frietjes.

But my favourite description, although not necessarily my favourite activity, is boodschappen doen, which suddenly makes grocery shopping sound vague and secretive... and therefore exciting!

Initially, at the height of the (first) Covid-19 peak in the Netherlands, my husband took care of the grocery shopping. The store was deemed to be a high-risk area and our strategy was that he would be able to navigate this unknown hazard in a more practical way. And he did indeed return from the store with wonderful concoctions and creations: Kroketten and ossenstaart, sinaasappelsap and slagroom.

It was therefore not until summertime, after the initial corona wave / panic / toilet paper buying sprees had subsided, that I went on my very first boodschappen outing. Sure, I had done shopping in the Netherlands before, but this was 6 years ago, prior to Covid-19 and the subsequent risks and rules, and without a toddler dangling from my shopping trolley.

Our toddler and I cycled to the store and only took 20 minutes to find a suitable parking spot and secure our bicycle. Boodschappen is often done by means of fietsen (therefore I will likely not be partaking in any other form of sporten soon). Our toddler, who had accompanied my husband to the store before, had received prior instructions to introduce me to the logistics of the shopping trolleys and not touch anything.

I felt calm and collected. I was going to smoothly grab a few items, breezily swipe my bankcard and practice some light Dutch by asking for “de bonnetje alstublieft”. No problem. Boodschappen done!

But, as I was nervously queuing for a trolley, I suddenly realised that the trolleys were all fastened to one another. My husband had given me a token, which I was supposed to use... but how? Our toddler, who was energetically enjoying a moment of unsupervised freedom, was no help whatsoever and I anxiously looked around for assistance. “Verskoon my, Sorry, hoe doe ik dat?” I asked helplessly, pointing to the trolley. “De... zit vast” I had no idea what trolley was in Dutch (it is winkelwagentje).

Luckily someone came to my rescue and our toddler, remembering that he was supposed to help me, but forgetting that he shouldn't touch anything, climbed onto the trolley stand and there we went. 

Isn't a trolley child-stand simply ingenious?

Most items in a Dutch store have odd or unknown names (remember the vlaai/taart/cake discussion?). In general it isn’t a major crisis: Pindakaas looks similar to peanut butter, so what else can it really be? (Don't answer that.) You can identify an orange even if it’s called a sinaasappel and a lime even if it’s called a limoen. (Yes, when asking for a “lemoen”, you will get an orange in South Africa and a lime in the Netherlands!) 

Beschuit should not be confused with the South African favourite, and the flavour liquorice can pop-up where you least expect it. (Warning: It is often presented like cinnamon!)

 

Not "beskuit"                                                                       Not cinnamon

Vaatwastabletten (dish washing tablets) proved to be more of a challenge and keukenpapier (kitchen paper towels) can easily be mistaken for toilet paper ("keuken” is kitchen, not... something else). 

The meat items are an advanced-level challenge: Kip is chicken, rundvlees is beef and none of the cuts look familiar. Then there are soepballen, kroketten, and frikandellen (which look like sausages instead) and different varieties of gehakt-dishes.

In South Africa (prior to the Covid-19 pandemic), I had known exactly what to buy, how it was packaged and labelled and where it was stored. I had known the answer to the question: "Plastic?” when checking out and that my items will be packed in the aforementioned plastic (bags). 

In the Netherlands you have to bring your own reusable bags or buy new ones, you have to put a plastic partition behind your groceries at check-out, you have to pinnen (pay by debit card), since cash and credit cards aren’t accepted, you have to pack your groceries yourself and you will be asked if you want “postzegels en de bonnetje erbij”. All this while keeping an eye on a toddler ("no more hagelslag!") and juggling a bottle of hand sanitiser.

I don’t know if it was navigating a new store in the midst of a pandemic, or trying not to touch the food items with descriptions I had never seen before (did my husband buy the runderlappen or kogelbiefstuk before? And did we like it?) while not blocking the narrow aisles, but it was all very overwhelming. My respect and appreciation for my husband, who had managed all of this by himself for weeks, were growing by the minute.

I mentioned this to him that evening and how a simple, ordinary task can become challenging in a new country and language. 

He agreed: “It's especially difficult to weigh the fruit yourself. How are we supposed to know if bananas are biologisch or not?”

Wait... what?

I had definitely not weighed anything.

It seems boodschappen will remain vague and secretive and exciting for yet another week.

Vlaai... or Ta(a)rt?

It is wonderful to have the opportunity to work from home (and to work!) these days. But I do love going into the office once a week to see colleagues, catch up on the weekly news and complain about the heatwave (today is an 8-day record of continuous tropical weather in the Netherlands with temperatures ranging from 32 - 38 °C. A.k.a. hair-raising, brain-numbing humidity and heat in a country where air-conditioning is virtually non-existent). 

And of course, to have the customary lunchtime exchanges in Dutch. This week we celebrated a birthday in the office and in certain parts of the Netherlands and Belgium, this means vlaai for everyone during lunch! 

Herewith a typical lunchtime conversation to describe the Dutch/Belgian dessert and the intricacies of the Dutch language. To simplify (or potentially complicate) matters, I'll use different colours for each language:

• English
• Dutch
• Afrikaans
• French
• German Let's keep it simple, we already have four languages überhaupt!

• Me (enjoying a slice of cherry vlaai): "Is vlaai always a tart with custard and fruit?"
• Colleague 1: "No, vlaai is this (while pointing to the tart) and is only found in the Limburg province in the Netherlands and in Belgium close to the Netherlands border. Taart is a bigger cake, you know, a gateau?" I didn't.
• Me (confused): "So taart is cake? Like a birthday cake?"
• Colleague 1 (trying not to confuse himself): "Yes.. no. We have three cake types: Vlaai (pointing to the tart), taart with icing (indicating what I presumed to be a cake) and cake, which is without icing.
• Me (feeling like I'm on the verge of a Dutch dessert-breakthrough): "Vlaai, taart and...? What is cake in Dutch?"
• Colleague 1 (looking perplexed): "Umm.. cake?"
• Me (getting it... or perhaps not): "Sorry, I misinterpreted cake as cake. It's confusing because in Afrikaans tert is vlaai, but koek is taart. Or cake... I think." Adding another language to clarify the matter, seemed like a good idea at the time. It wasn't.
• Colleague 2 (continuing like a trooper, after Colleague 1 had given up): "Ah, but in Dutch koek koek is a biscuit."
• Me: "Koek Koek is koekie. It makes sense." It really didn't. "Not to be confused with beschuit or beskuit, am I right?" Nobody had any idea anymore.
• Colleague 1: "Who wants more tert cake vlaai!" We all understood. And we all did indeed.

Now you know what vlaai is!

And if you don't - here's a picture of the tart with custard and fruit: