Na na na-naan nyaaaaah!

I AM bilingual.

I have discovered, quite by accident, that I speak good Polish. While I’m bragging I should add that I also speak good Japanese, Urdu, Icelandic and Thai.

Naturally, there’s a catch.

I can only speak to people between the ages of about four and 10 years.

And although my accent in all these languages is flawless, I can only say one phrase.

It’s “Na na na-naan nyaaaah!”

Maybe you think I’m kidding, but I’m not. As you know by now, I am in Poland. I was planning on two weeks, then it became three, now it’s four, and I have discovered that the battle cry of the Polish child is absolutely the same as the battle cry of the child in the African desert and the American ghetto.

Na na na-naan nyaaaaah!

I rounded a corner to find two boys about six years old fighting with sticks. I surprised them by my sudden appearance as much as they surprised me. There was a nano-second of embarrassed silence in which I could have uttered any one of my other Polish phrases: (Dzien dobry – g’day; do widzenia – goodbye).

(And actually, that’s both of them).

But somehow the moment needed something more. I stood my ground. Inspiration shone in my eyes. I’ve heard Japanese children who have never seen a foreigner utter this same phrase, so why not!

Na na na-naan nyaaaaah!

They were paralysed with shock for another nano-second. I could see their eyes working on the translation.

But no translation is needed. Luckily I realised this just as they did, or I would have been clubbed to death on the spot. The challenge of the playground jungle is universal. I ran, they followed. Fifty metres up the street we met Maryska, my host, who is a proper grown-up, and I his behind her while she bombarded them with some words that were utterly unintelligible to me but were clearly life-threatening to them. They retired to the other side of the road and nya-nyaaa-ed me from there.

But our brief bonding session has paid dividends. They and all their friends now allow me to make paper airplanes for them, which they launch from the top floors of their endless blocks. And they goad me with incomprehensible questions filled with long strings of consonants like “sprztkryzyc?” just so they can hear me reply in English, which causes them to wet themselves with glee.

Is there a lesson in any of this? I’m not sure.

Maybe it’s that we don’t necessarily need language. Not proper language. It’s open to too much interpretation. If we relied on music, a kiss, and nya-nya-nya maybe we could change the world.

Of course there’s always the possibility that the music will make them want to kill you. It’s how I feel in supermarkets every day. And in some cultures I bet a kiss is an invitation to cannibalism.

But, as I said, nya nya na-naan nyaaaah! is universal.

But to be on the safe side, you’d better have your running shoes ready.