A FEW weeks ago, Shafiq, the amiable night security guard at New
快猫短视频鈥檚 London office, asked me a simple science question, but one
which left me struggling.
Shafiq is a first-generation Pakistani settler in Britain. English is not his
first language and we often exchange pleasantries in Urdu. Only this time, he
sounded earnest.
鈥淓hsan,鈥� he said. 鈥淲hat is this GM?鈥� As he spoke, he pointed to an article in
one of the morning鈥檚 tabloid newspapers, which had the words 鈥淕M鈥� and 鈥渟care鈥� in
large, bold text. 鈥淵ou don鈥檛 want to be reading that,鈥� I said somewhat
dismissively. 鈥淵ou should read our special issue on the genome.鈥�
Advertisement
Shafiq understandably felt that I wasn鈥檛 trying hard enough. He promptly
pulled out a cornflake box from under his desk, which had the words 鈥淕M free鈥� on
the front and back. 鈥淓hsan,鈥� he said again, 鈥渢ell me, what is GM?鈥�
I was cornered. Why? Well, Urdu may be my mother tongue, but my colloquial
ability in the language is limited to polite conversations with relatives and
not-so-polite exchanges with Karachi鈥檚 taxi drivers. My O-level in the subject
didn鈥檛 quite prepare me for discussions on biotechnology. But there was no
escape. Shafiq was quietly tapping his fingers on the desk, waiting for my words
of wisdom.
Only they didn鈥檛 come. I started by explaining that genes are the building
blocks of life. But this approach didn鈥檛 get very far because I didn鈥檛 know the
Urdu word for 鈥済ene鈥�. I then tried explaining genetic modification in terms of
conventional agriculture and cross-breeding. But this strategy, too, quickly
came unstuck, as I couldn鈥檛 get across the difference between conventional seeds
and GM ones. It wasn鈥檛 long before I wearily admitted defeat.
The experience got me thinking. How do you discuss the latest science with
people who are playing little part in its development? They could be the urban
and rural poor of the developed world. Or they could be those, like Shafiq, who
don鈥檛 have a lot in common with the culture of countries where most scientific
research is taking place. Yet they all want to share the wonder of science and
have their say in its development.
The British Council, together with the Department for International
Development and UNESCO, are working on this. Two weeks ago, they held a workshop
in London on communicating science. A similar event was held last year in
Islamabad by the seven South Asian countries that form the South Asian
Association for Regional Cooperation.
Help is also at hand at the World Service of the BBC, where they鈥檝e been
broadcasting science programmes in 43 languages for more than 50 years. I
learned from staff in the Urdu section that there is an Urdu word for 鈥済ene鈥�.
It鈥檚 pronounced 鈥済eneiyat鈥�, and most listeners know what it means. Similarly
鈥済eneiyati engineering鈥� means exactly what it sounds like. Listeners are equally
at home with words such as 鈥渢ransplant鈥�, as in kidney transplant; its Urdu
equivalent, pronounced 鈥減evankari鈥�, is also well established.
Understandably, newer words from science are not so well known and need a
phrase or two when translated. Global warming is 鈥渁n increase in the world鈥檚
temperature鈥�. And 鈥済enome鈥� is translated as 鈥渁 comprehensive survey of human
genetic characteristics鈥�.
I鈥檓 dreading the evening that Shafiq asks me to explain the workings of a
microwave oven. I鈥檓 told that the phrase is translated as 鈥渁 special cooker that
uses electrical energy to speed up the preparation of meals鈥�.