Posted in Six word stories

6WSC: Dialect

My own entry in the Six Word Story Challenge: Dialect

THOSE TREASURED SOUNDS TAKE ME HOME

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image: Limburgse Dialecten

The dialect we speak at home – at my parents’ house in Limburg- is very different from the ‘normal’ Dutch that is spoken where I live now, in the south-west of the Netherlands. Though Friesland is the only province to have its own official language, Limburg has several dialects, as you can see in the image above. I come from the region Heële, in the south-east of Holland, near the German border.

And the minute I talk to my parents, to my siblings, in our dialect Limburgs, I’m transported back home. In a flash, a family feeling arises. And I treasure that so very much.

How about you? Do you have a dialect where you were born? And is that different from the language/dialect you speak these days?

6WSC<< If you want to read other six-word stories, or participate in the writing challenge yourself, then hit the button! :)

Author:

Reader, writer, word player. Collector of visuals. No lady, but all woman. Caretaker of lads & cats, dungeons & dragons. DuTchess. Green witch.

8 thoughts on “6WSC: Dialect

  1. Haha… I did not know you are from Limburg and live in the southwest now. I like the different dialects in our country. I recognize the being ‘transported’ in a sec. I have same feelings like that. I was born in the west (Westland), lived in Zeeland for a long long time and moved to the Randstad for study/work reasons and still live there (with a break in China in between) although I still spend a lot of time in Zeeland. Language/dialect can be sooo powerful and therefore emotional! I like that aspect in a language. I’m currently studying the more technical linguistic backgrounds of languages (Limburgs is a dialect I get to hear about a lot 🙂
    but to me language/dialect is more about emotion and communication.

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  2. I guess it’s as much about ‘family language’ as it is about dialect. My mother’s family came from Nova Scotia, and some of the words never left the family. “Saucepin” for pot or saucepan, “cazzerole” for casserole. Pillow slip for pillow case. Every year we had Potato stuffing (which most people here never heard of, unless they were French Canadian.). And my mother had a gift for language, she (as far as I know) made up her own words form other words. My favorite was “oops we just had a catsafterme”. When I heard that I knew I’d better get the mop.

    That’s a fascinating description, Marion. Thank you.

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  3. When I went to college, my roommate asked me, “If you were in a wagon, and the wagon went into a ditch and you spilled out, what did the wagon do?” I said, “It tumped over.” She said, “If a piece of material has stripes, what is that pattern called?” I said, “Stripe-ed.” (Two syllables instead of striped, one syllable.) She said, “YES!!!” We spoke the same language. 🙂 Where I come from, people warsh the dishrag in the zink, not wash the dishcloth in the sink. Where I come from, people talk about hisself and theirself, not himself and themselves. And ain’t is a word.

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    1. That must have been wonderful, to have your roommate speak the same language! 😀 You made me smile. Ain’t is most certainly a word!
      Whenever I talk to my mother when I’m at work, my co-workers stop and listen. And they don’t understand a thing. Or very little.

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