Tweet27-11-2011 om 22:57 by Sueli Brodin

In my work as an editor for the European Journalism Centre, I am sometimes asked to give writing tips to young interns who are interested in contributing to the EJC’s online magazine.

“Be your own editor,” I tell them, “only send me your article after critically re-reading the entire text and making sure every single word is the most accurate word you could have used and absolutely needs to be there.”


Coaching young journalists at the European Journalism Centre

When I am correcting articles and come across words I am not familiar with or which seem to be used with a new meaning, I systematically look them up in the dictionary and check their pertinence. “Writers have to get used to your editing,” my director once teased me.

Surprisingly perhaps, I am quite different in my private life, where I am usually perfectly happy using too many words and not understanding the meaning of every word I hear or read. I take great pleasure in watching foreign films and listening to music in languages I don’t understand.

To me, one of the main appeals of Scandinavian detective series such as “The Killing”, “Varg Veum” or “Wallander” lies precisely in the fact that they are broadcasted on Dutch television in their original languages, i.e. Danish, Norwegian and Swedish.

I enjoy watching the Sunday music programme “Vrije Geluiden” (Free Sounds) on Dutch television because it has made me discover many outstanding foreign artists such as the Turkish Candan Erçetin, the Cape Verdean Mayra Andrade, and just two weeks ago the Malian Fatoumata Diawara who gave a sold-out concert this weekend in Maastricht. I let myself be carried away by their beautiful voices and the captivating sounds of the words they pronounce. I don’t need to know the meaning of their songs to enjoy them. Not understanding the lyrics is part of the magic. The emotions they convey transcend language.


The Malian singer Fatoumata Diawara gave a sold-out concert in Maastricht

This time of year in the Netherlands, all Dutch children including mine are singing Sinterklaas songs. My favourite one by far is “Zie de maan schijnt door de bomen” because it contains a sentence I can neither pronounce nor grasp: “Makkers staakt uw wild geraas.” What a tongue-twister! I am always impressed at my children when they sing it. Whenever I ask Dutch people what the words mean, they laugh at me and say “Nobody knows.”


"Zie de maan schijnt door de bomen", a famous Dutch Sinterklaas song (photo credit: Astrid Photography via Flickr)

I recently experienced the seductive power of unknown words once again. I was watching the beautiful video portrait of the prize-winning Dutch writer Marente de Moor and listening to her soft and mesmerising voice as she read a piece she had written after moving to our region in the south of the Netherlands.

The words she combined together created striking images

“Dan komt in het sepia een schaduw omhoog”,

“zijn gezicht - met zijn tuintje hopeloos verschroeid”

that I could not immediately decipher. But it didn’t matter.


Dutch writer Marente de Moor uses magic words

Her voice carried on against the ethereal scenery of her new surroundings and the magic reached its climax in the last sentence of the text and the last image of the film with a spellbinding alliteration:

“met knarsende stem en kromgetrokken klauw”

I was bewitched.

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