Glad to see the police have tracked down the anti-monarchist group known as Banpodj and its leader, who goes by the same name. In a hastily-called press conference the police managed to answer all questions with the exception of the most pressing one of all in my opinion — why on earth is there a “J” at the end of “Banpodj”?
I wouldn’t be asking this if we had to pronounce it as “ban-podge”, but that is impossible. No Thai word ends in a “J” sound, so there is no rhyme or reason as to why it is there.
It just sits at the end, unwarranted and unwanted. That J has leeched itself onto the body of Banpod and will not let go, not unlike that pretty Nana Plaza bar girl you drunkenly invited to stay with you “for a few days” last Songkran and is now fused to your sofa.
It’s not pronounced in Thai. The entire word is pronounced bun-pot; you know, like a kitchen container to store the remains of lukewarm Chinese dumplings. A simple, nice, short, two-syllable word with no consonant clusters, ensuring the dullest of wit is able to say it. I’m sure the poor chap at the end of my soi with the sloping forehead, whose parents clearly come from a parallel universe to Mensa, and who directs traffic every morning in his tattered clothes, would be able to say it if I gathered up the courage to ask.
Why then complicate things with an extra J?
The Thai language features 44 consonants and 32 vowels that must be learned off by heart if you want to sound remotely good at the language. I know that sounds like a lot — I certainly announced to my first-in-a-long-line-of-harried-Thai-teachers that I’d be learning “only half that list since that’s as many as you need to pronounce words”.
Once I managed to overcome my haughtiness I discovered that it doesn’t take that long to rote-learn 76 symbols. If you learn three a day, it takes a little over three weeks. The upshot is you start to speak Thai much more authentically, as opposed to the bells and whistle systems that utilise Romanised versions of Thai letters. Anyway, the point is with so many consonants and vowels there are bound to be a few sounds that are alien to native English language speakers; like the one at the end of “Banpodj”.
That last consonant cluster is representing the letter tor tao in Thai, which is a good example for us. It is a cross between a “T” and a “D” sound in English with a sprinkling of “TH” as well. Your tongue has to wedge itself up against the back of your top teeth (or dentures, if you are that Nana Plaza patron). When people unkindly imitate Indian people, they will turn any “T” into this sound.
How should it be written in Romanised form? I have seen it as “DT”, but the official Thai transcription is a “T”, and for this reason immediately makes native English speakers say it incorrectly.
This tor tao consonant is everywhere in Thai such as Koh Tao, the holiday island with a reputation for sun, surf and slaughter. This island’s name does not begin with the aspirated “T” you and I know well. It is the more muted, tongue-against-your-top-teeth sound.
For this reason, don’t make that explosive “T” sound any time you see a written “T” in a Thai word, such as Tak, Trat, Trang or Khlong Toey. They are probably more like Dtak, Dtrat, Dtrang or Khlong Dtoey.
(And sorry guys, if your Thai girlfriend’s name is Toy, that’s not hilarious linguistic irony. It sounds nothing like those things you played with as a kid.)
Meanwhile, the aspirated “T” sound we all know and love is rendered as “TH” in Thai, such as in the country’s name. It’s not the stick-out-your-tongue “TH” sound that we are familiar with; that sound doesn’t exist in the Thai language. While Thai linguists cite antiquated transcription guidelines (coming from royalty, no less), the real reason for it is to thoroughly confuse foreigners, enabling locals to say “you just don’t understand the way we do things here” whenever you spot an injustice.
Why am I telling you all this? Because the Thai word Banpodj ends in this tor tao letter. Is Mr Banpodj, when not undertaking anti-royalistic activities, merely rendering tor tao as “DJ” in English? If he is then I agree with the cops; lock him up and throw away the key.
The system for transcribing and transliterating Thai words into English, or its Romanisation, was standardised in 1932. Like the constitution, it has been modified a couple of times since.
It is officially called the Royal Thai General System of Transcription, or RTGS for short. And just look at that abbreviation, will you? The most important word in it — Transcription — doesn’t even get a look in! That is both illogical and clunky, though I suspect they did that to reflect the very system itself.
This is the system that turns our English “T” sound into a written “TH” for Thai words, and our “P” sound into a written “PH”, thus making “Phuket” the perfect destination for the next Carry On movie.
Here’s a further complication; there is more than one Thai consonant that sounds like our “P”. There are three, in fact. This is why the sound is sometimes written as “PH” and sometimes “BH” to separate these same-sounding consonants. Abhisit Vejjajiva’s first name has no “B” sound in it; in fact it is the same sound that leads off “Phuket”.
Like in English, written Thai has consonants and vowels that are silent. Tragically, the powers that be have decided these silent letters should be rendered, too, when transcribed. This causes brisk sales in paracetamol, both Thai and English varieties, thanks to the migraine-inducing spellings around town.
The best example is our international airport, Suvarnabhumi. Not only do we get that “P”-sounding “BH”, but the final “I” is silent. Only the most extreme autistic genius would work out the way it should be pronounced; namely, “soo-wunna-poom.” The rest of us are as lost as our luggage tends to get at that monstrous place.
I take comfort in knowing that it’s not only foreigners who get confused. Thais themselves have terrible trouble deciding how their words should be written despite the guidelines of the RTGS.
I live on Srinakarin Road, and I have counted eight different ways my road is spelled on road signs around town. I include five of them on this page. Note how sometimes the first syllable, Sri, is but an island detached from the mainland of Nakarin. In others they are inextricably entwined, like that bar girl and the sofa.
My very favourite is the one on the way to the airport — Sri Nakrariu. I can only assume the sign writer had a very unfortunate epileptic fit while writing “Srinakarin”.
The two silent letters at the end of this word — a “T” and an “R” — have been magically transformed into “dara” or “tara”. The academic argument is that in order to preserve the original Thai, they should be spelled out … which brings us right back to Banpodj.
Is that why we are adding a “J” to the end? To preserve the integrity of the language? If so, then why stop at “Banpodj”?
What I mean is, the “a” vowel in “Banpodj”, when written in Thai, is actually rendered as two “R” letters next to one another. If Mr Banpodj really wants to preserve the original Thai, he should be spelling his name “Brrpdj”. That’s about as implausible as his chances of walking free. n
