Have Tongue Will Travel

In March, a long-time acquaintance – let’s call him Crusoe – sent a compassionate e-mail saying he sympathized with us Russian бедола́ги (poor things), still knee deep in snow (по коле́но в снегу́). Then, in a non sequitor, he said he owed me a bit of money.

This of course warmed my heart even more than our long-overdue о́ттепель (thaw). Well, I thought, nobody pulled you by the tongue – никто́ тебя́ за язы́к не тянул (i.e. “you said it, not me”). So, as we say, сказа́л «A», говори́ «Б» (proceed).

A week later, golden-headed Moscow (Москва́ златогла́вая) was still a long way from spring, and Crusoe was holding his tongue behind his teeth (держа́л язы́к за зуба́ми), i.e. remaining pointedly silent. Or, as we say, he did not utter ни бэ, ни мэ, ни кукареку́ (neither a B, nor a M, nor even a cock-a-doodle-doo). Was the mention of money just a slip of the tongue (огово́рка)?

A smarter me would have waited patiently for payment. Russians say обе́щанного три го́да ждут (we’ll wait three years for what’s promised). But instead of biting my tongue (прикуси́ть язы́к) I set it loose (распусти́л его́) and asked point blank about my “overdue payment.” Apparently the word “overdue” vexed dear Crusoe, who said this was a “misinterpretation of the facts.” Have you ever noticed that debtors and creditors, when negotiating, often speak past each other (говоря́т на ра́зных языка́х)?

Crusoe forgot that English is not my mother tongue (родно́й язы́к). Yet when it comes to money one should be precise and not let one’s tongue run free (не дава́ть во́лю языку́). And I regret my hastiness: who was it that pulled (loosed) my tongue, fool that I am (и кто меня́, идио́та, дёрнул за язы́к)? Sometimes my tongue is my own worst enemy (язы́к мой – враг мой).

Indeed, since childhood I have had a sharp tongue (был остёр на язы́к). Of course, not to the point of bonelessness (язы́к без косте́й), which is what we say about gossips. But I have to admit that my язы́к was often как помело́ (like a broom), which earned me many complaints from teachers (and whacks on the butt from my dad).

Eventually there came a point when I realized that my tongue was so well constructed (язы́к был хорошо́ подве́шен) that I ought to earn my living with it. So I studied foreign languages (иностра́нные языки́).

Our proverb has it that a good tongue, even just a Russian one, can get you to Kiev (язы́к до Ки́ева доведёт). So it was that adding a few foreign languages took me farther still… Today I am fluent in two languages (я свобо́дно владе́ю двумя́ языка́ми), French and English, and conversant in two others, Spanish and Italian. Yet I admit my Italian is a bit broken (ло́маный) and when I speak with the natives I am tongue-tied (косноязы́чный).

Of course, when I got my start at TASS in 1989 I also had to learn the Aesopian language (эзо́пов язы́к) of Soviet journalism. Ah, the early years, running between briefings with my tongue hanging out (вы́сунувши язы́к). Back then, our souls were deep and our heads were full, but the store shelves were empty, as if licked clean by a cow (как коро́ва языко́м слизну́ла). But my tongue saved me.

Thanks to my good American English, my bosses sent me every Thursday to Spaso House for US Ambassador Jack Matlock’s informal briefings. The briefings were often dull, and you could only quote Matlock as… the Aesopian term is on the tip of my tongue (ве́ртится у меня́ на языке́)… ah, yes, as “a highly placed diplomatic source in Moscow” (высокопоста́вленный дипломати́ческий исто́чник в Москве́). But the pizzas and beers served before the briefing made up for everything (occasionally a peer found that his tongue staggered – язы́к заплета́лся – from the plenty).

One of those Thursdays, as I popped in to tell my editor I was on my way out the door, he surprised me: “Relax, Misha,” he said, “this time we’re sending our young Veronika.”

Now evil tongues (злы́е языки́) claimed that Veronika was the editor’s mistress. But that was not important to me, not as important as pizza and beer, anyway.

“Are you sure she has mastery of the tongue (она́ хорошо́ владе́ет языко́м)?” I asked.

“You bet!” My TASS boss replied with a wink and a conspiratorial smile (загово́рщическая улы́бка).