What Iris is studying, though, is not so much the script itself, but how people react to it. And here comes the first point that interests me. She told me that how people react depends on whether they grew up monoscriptal — that is, using only one writing system — or polyscriptal — that is, using more than one.
By the way, the very fact that we don’t have generally agreed-on words for “people who use one script” and “people who use more than one script” is a sign of how the subject has been dominated by those in the one-script West. It’s possible that half the world uses more than one script, though I don’t have solid statistics. The average educated Indian may use three or more scripts every day.
But back to Iris’s study. Those who grew up using only the Latin alphabet, she explained, even if they speak several languages, take one look at isiBheqe and freak out. “That’s just too hard,” they complain. “How do you expect us to learn that?”
Those who grew up using more than one script, though, mentally roll up their sleeves and say, more or less, “This is just like Sudoku. We can work this out.” Because it is in fact, unlike the Latin alphabet, an amazingly logical and consistent script.
My second story is about what it meant to be a linguist when I was at school in England, in the 1960s and 70s, and perhaps what it still means to be a linguist in some circles.
Both in secondary school and later at university, the study of languages was encouraged. I took French, German, and Latin, and I was called a linguist. At university, there was actually a degree (which I didn’t pursue) in “modern languages,” though that phrase really meant “not Classics,” i.e., not Greek and Latin. Modern languages consisted of French and German, with Spanish a distant third, back there in the pack with Italian.
Remember what Iris said? Even if my peers and I thought of ourselves as linguists, we knew only one script.