Quincaillerie Young

Quincaillerie Young
Yueng Hoi Wah & Fils & Cie
62 Royal Street Port-Louis Tel\Fax (230) 2424201

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27 réponses à “Quincaillerie Young

  1. LOrraine Lagesse née Desmarais

    c est surtout le toit de cette quincallerie qui vaut la peine d etre photographié…car c est un vieux batiment & qui va disparaitre trés vite….

  2. un vieux quincaillerie avec un nom jeune.

  3. Bon, nous voilà avec une Quincaillerie Young à la façade bleue mitoyenne d’une Quincaillerie Nationale à la façade rouge… Ne restent plus que le jaune et le vert pour ne fâcher personne!
    Au fait, ça rapporte tant que ça, la quincaillerie, pour avoir deux boutiques similaires à touche-touche ? Chez nous ce sont les coiffeurs et les opticiens qui jouent à ça!

  4. Peut-on déduire que le vieux monsieur Yueng a francisé anglicisé son nom en Young pour baptiser sa quincaillerie ?

    Leveto, la « quincaillerie nationale » voisine ressemble plutôt à une menuiserie ou au moins à un marchand de fenêtres qu’à une vraie quincaillerie.

  5. Au fait, ça rapporte tant que ça, la quincaillerie, pour avoir deux boutiques similaires à touche-touche ?

    Leveto, les quincailleries sont innombrables sur Mars, y compris dans les endroits les plus reculés. (C’est un business qui doit bien marcher.) A Port-Louis on en trouve beaucoup, ce qui explique que vous pouvez en avoir plusieurs côte à côte. Je pense même inclure le mot “quincaillerie” dans la liste de mauricianismes, car il me semble qu’il est beaucoup plus souvent utilisé ici qu’en France. En France j’ai l’impression que lorsqu’on utilisera le mot “quincaillerie” ça sera surtout pour parler d’un ensemble de choses hétéroclites et de peu de valeur, ou à la rigueur, dans le domaine du bâtiment, de tous les fittings métalliques (poignées de portes, poignées de fenêtres, etc.), alors que sur Mars il s’agit à peu près exclusivement de ce genre de boutique, de “hardware stores” comme on aurait pu dire sous d’autres cieux.

    “A touche-touche” ? Voilà un expression qui ressemble furieusement au mauricianissime “à toucher”.
    — Où il habite ?
    — Il habite à toucher le filling de Plaine des Papayes.

  6. Zerbinette, vous avez sans doute raison, au moins en partie: si j’écarquille bien les yeux, je parviens à lire « fabrication de vitres et miroirs – toutes dimensions » sur l’enseigne de la Quincaillerie Nationale. Cela semble donner raison à Siganus qui nous explique que les quincailleries martiennes vendent plus que la quincaillerie habituelle ; on se rapprocherait ainsi de notre bazar.
    P.S. vous m’avez fait douter, Siganus. J’ai cru un moment que j’avais rapporté des Antilles cette expression « à touche-touche », mais je constate qu’elle est admise par le CNRTL . Ouf!

  7. Certaines quincailleries sont parfois appelées “chantier”, quand elles vendent des matériaux de construction par exemple. (On peut penser au Chantier de Plaisance, connu surtout en tant que fournisseur de bois.) Il ne s’agit pas de chantiers de construction selon l’acception du dictionnaire, mais bien d’un magasin.

    (Au fait, pourquoi le CNRTL n’incluerait-il pas des expressions antillaises, hein ? Pas assez “pur” comme français ?)
     
     
    Zerbinette : Peut-on déduire que le vieux monsieur Yueng a francisé anglicisé son nom en Young pour baptiser sa quincaillerie ?

    Possibilité. Le problème vient de la translittération transcription en anglais ou en français (en utilisant des caractères latins) d’un nom qui ne s’écrivait pas dans ces langues à l’origine, d’où les variantes possibles. Les variations peuvent être d’autant plus grandes que les sons ainsi transcrits ne correspondent pas de façon exacte aux sons d’origine. Le fonctionnaire français ou anglais qui demande son nom au nouvel arrivant n’a pas forcément dans sa propre langue les sons qu’il entend. En regardant dans l’annuaire on trouve des Young, des Yong, des Yoong, des Yoon et des Yeung. (Mais étonnamment il n’y a pas de Yueng dans l’annuaire 2010. Y aurait-il une erreur typographique sur l’enseigne ?)

    Pour aggraver les choses, il me semble qu’il existe un certain laxisme dans la façon qu’ont les Mauriciens d’écrire le nom de certains de leurs compatriotes, notamment ceux qui ont des noms d’origine chinoise ou indienne. Par exemple le ministre de la culture que nous avons en ce moment s’appelle M. Choonee. Son nom de famille ne varie généralement pas, à la différence par exemple de M. Baichoo/Bachoo, mais son prénom fluctue au gré de l’humeur du moment. Son don d’ubiquité fait qu’il peut être Mukeshwar Choonee, Mukeswar Choonee, Mukhesswur Choonee, Mookeshwar Choonee, Mookhesswur Choonee, etc. A croire qu’on assiste à une prolifération de petits Choonee…

  8. Siganus, vous avez bien de la chance d’avoir encore des quincailleries, de ces petits « bazars » qui vendaient aussi bien au détail (et au poids) des clous que des plombs* de chasse et aussi des casseroles. En France, elles ont quasiment disparu du paysage, les clous (et ce qui concerne le bâtiment) sont vendus dans les « magasins de bricolage »par paquets, les casseroles dans les supermarchés et les plombs de chasse : dans les armureries ?

    * Un de mes plaisirs de toute petite fille était d’aller farfouiller dans les bacs des plombs de différente taille qui glissaient délicieusement sous les doigts et les noircissaient en quelques minutes….

  9. (Au fait, pourquoi le CNRTL n’incluerait-il pas des expressions antillaises, hein ? Pas assez “pur” comme français ?)
    Ah! fichtre! ce n’est pas du tout ce que j’ai voulu dire! Je pensais que cette expression aurait pu n’avoir cours qu’en créole antillais et que je l’aurais importée par mégarde en métropole*, voilà tout. Elle aurait pu tout au plus être signalée comme un régionalisme**, mais ce n’est pas le cas: elle est académique.

    *J’ai importé pour mon usage personnel quelques expressions colorées que je ressors de temps en temps (par exemple quand je me tape sur les doigts avec un marteau ou quand je me prends pour un Haddock de Karukera).
    ** Tiens, il n’y a pas de mot : un « antillisme » ?

  10. Ah! fichtre! ce n’est pas du tout ce que j’ai voulu dire!

    Je m’en doute bien, Leveto. Je jouais là à l’avocat du diable. Il n’empêche que bien souvent les formes jugées non standard n’ont pas leur place dans les dictionnaires normaux. Pourtant je trouve que les mots badamier, encanaillant, vindaye, balisage, gorer, foutant, barachois, mari, brèdes, mofine ou tombaliste — pour n’en nommer que quelques-uns — ne défigureraient pas trop le Larousse ou le Robert.

    Mais quelle est donc cette expression antillaise qui vous vient à la bouche quand vous vous écrasez un doigt ?
     
     
    Zerbinette, il n’y a donc plus de quincaillerie en France ? Sur Wikipédia pourtant : http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quincaillerie

  11. L’expression créole la plus présentable qui me vienne à l’esprit et que je lâche encore quelquefois est tonan di so !* ( « tonnerre de sort ! »). Elle me vient d’un ami qui conduisait son pick-up d’une façon toute personnelle : chaque changement de vitesse , embrayage négligé, était ponctué de ladite expression…
    J’en ai d’autres plus délurées que je réserve aux cas vraiment très graves!

    *J’espère que mon orthographe est la bonne; je ne sais pas écrire le créole.

  12. Siganus Sutor

    J’espère que mon orthographe est la bonne; je ne sais pas écrire le créole

    C’est le cas de bien des gens. Les créoles ont pendant longtemps été des langues exclusivement orales et la question du choix d’une graphie standardisée se pose toujours, du moins à Maurice, où la plupart des locuteurs l’écrivent comme ça leur chante. Je me demande si aux Caraïbes on a le même problème ou si, dans l’ensemble, les Antillais ou les Haïtiens ont adopté une façon commune de l’écrire.

  13. @LOrraine Lagesse née Desmarais
    Des toits et des « balustrades » comme ça, on n’en fait plus!

    @ leveto
    En 2007, il m’est arrivé de manquer de certaines pièces de plomberie très particulières et introuvables après avoir fait le tour de toutes les quincailleries urbaines des Plaines Wilhems. Le pire niveau de service était à Curepipe. A Port Louis par contre, si ces « quincaillers » ne peuvent vous satisfaire, il se feront un devoir de vous dire où aller précisément pour trouver votre pièce. Et je dois le préciser: c’est toujours avec le même accueil, la même courtoisie et le même dévouement qu’ils vous recommenderont une autre quincaillerie, indépendamment du fait que le propriétaire soit d’une autre « communauté »…

  14. Torpedo : ils vous recommenderont une autre quincaillerie, indépendamment du fait que le propriétaire soit d’une autre « communauté »…

    Ha ! ha ! Voilà qui s’appelle mettre les pieds dans le plat ! Vous ne pratiquez pas le PC et la mise sous bol des tabous de notre société, Torpedo ? Il est vrai que dans la psyché collective un boutiquier chinois va en cas de besoin vous recommander une autre boutique chinoise, un quincailler musulman va vous rediriger vers une autre quincaillerie musulmane, et ainsi de suite. Que vous buviez du Pepsi ou du Coca pourrait presque vous catégoriser. Quelle tristesse…

    Mais est-ce bien fondé ?

  15. That’s a very interesting question, Siganus. I decided to look into the question of how Haitian Creole, which is the most widely spoken French-origin creole in the world and the only one which is an official language of any country, is written nowadays. It turns out to be much more complicated than I had thought. I supposed that since an official orthography had been in place for thirty years, it would be fairly widely accepted. But things are by no means so simple.

    The first question is, whose Kreyòl are we to write? The basilect, the Kreyòl rèk, gwo Kreyòl or bon Kreyòl of the masses? Or the acrolect, the Kreyòl swa or Kreyòl fransize of the urban elite? The 1980 òtograf ofisyel is a compromise between the two. Thus one may write either pa-n or pan /pan/ ‘panne’ (Eng. ‘mechanical breakdown’). Likewise (if I understand correctly) the orthography allows either agronòm or agronnòm ‘agronomist’. Both variants reflect the fact (again, if I understand correctly) that in elite Kreyòl an oral vowel may be followed by /n/ in the next syllable, whereas in the basilect the preceding vowel is always nasalized. (Note that é is written simply e, which saves on diacritics.)

    However, the orthography has no representation for the four front rounded vowels that exist in the acrolect: thus one writes diri ‘(du) riz’, ble ‘bleu’, ‘peur’, and lendi ‘lundi’, which is how they are pronounced in the basilect. (En is used instead of èn, again to save on diacritics.) Comme par exprès, however, the symbols u, eu, èu, and un happen not to be used for anything else, and could be adopted in a future version of the orthography if it were decided to establish one. (In fact, u otherwise only appears in ou and ui, which are pronounced as in French, and in oun, which is nasalized ou and appears only in a few words such as houngan ‘vodou priest’.)

    The next big question is this: Should the orthography reflect the etymological French past and the presumed bilingual Kreyòl/French future by approximating Kreyòl spelling to French? Or should it reflect the purely Kreyòl present that over 90% of the population exists in, where the simplest orthography that represents the facts on the ground is the best? The etymologists want spelling to be as French as possible, and the extreme version of this is to do what some literary writers do, and spell every Kreyòl word of French etymology exactly as it is spelled in French, and every other word as it would be written if it were borrowed into French, only more so (more royalist than the king, indeed). More moderate versions want Kreyòl orthography to use the same symbols for sounds shared with French that French uses, and in particular to represent the acrolect’s rounded vowels in full. The official orthography is mostly phoneticist, but has a few compromises with the etymologist position: in particular, one may write either gwo or gro ‘gros’, for the distinction between /r/ and /w/ is neutralized before back vowels.

    The first widely used orthography was designed in 1940 by a Protestant American missionary, and wrote sh for ch and u for ou; these infelicities quickly vanished, but the chief mark of the orthography, its use of the circumflex to mark nasal vowels, remained. This gave it the nickname of Kreyòl bwa-nan-nen ‘clothespin-nose Kreyòl, from the shape of the diacritic and the use of a clothespin on the ear in Haiti to mark the person who lost the last round of dominoes. In addition, the orthography uniformly used k, w, y for those sounds, An alternative orthography put forward in 1947 and used successfully for many years used k, ou and either y or i on etymological grounds. The official orthography returned to k, w, y.

    Unfortunately, the use of these three letters was seen by many of the elite as « Anglo-Saxon » and anti-French. One extreme etymologist and nationalist took it for granted that the use of k reflected a plot by the United States to replace French in Haiti with English through the anglicization of Kreyòl, and by the same token to replace the Catholic and vodou religions with missionary Protestantism, the only interest of the U.S. in Third World literacy being in order to spread their heretical Bibles. Indeed, this k, which all orthographies since 1940 have featured, was apparently so god-detested that the Duvalier regime denounced it as a mark of international Communism (a notion the Ku Klux Klan would find extremely surprising), while at the same time the equally elite and francophone Haitian Communists damned it as bourgeois, rèactionnaire, et Macoute.

    In any case, the official orthography is not actually official. It was proclaimed on a trial basis in 1980, and was to be reaffirmed, revised, or withdrawn after four years of experimental use. No further proclamations have been made, and so the officialness of the orthography remains in a state of suspense, along with the future of the language as a carrier of elite virtues such as literacy and civilization. My guess, which is no better than a guess, is that if Haiti ever got out from under its string of authoritarian rulers and started modernizing, Kreyòl would almost immediately become the universal language of literacy, as Demotic Greek became in Greece after the fall of the fascist regime in 1974. Doubtless French would retain its status in Haiti as a language of international culture, as the pseudo-ancient Greek formerly used officially in Greece did not.

    You can read about all this in much greater detail in a 1994 article, The « real » Haitian Crole: metalinguistics and orthographic choice, from which I draw almost everything above. Consequently I don’t know what’s happened since then.

  16. Siganus Sutor

    John, there is another country in which a French-based creole gained official status: Seychelles, aka Repiblik Sesel. It is roughly the same creole as in Mauritius and Rodrigues, islands where it is the most widely spoken language but where it still has no official recognition, though it’s been increasingly written, including messages issued by governmental bodies.

  17. Sig: Ah, very interesting! I am glad to see that literacy in Seselwa is taught in the first two grades there, and that English is introduced « in certain subjects » in grade three and French in grade six, though it might be better if French came first. Ethnologue, as its custom is, calls Seselwa a separate language from Morisyen, though it concedes that « structural differences are relatively minor ». It lumps Rodrigues Creole with Morisyen, however.

  18. By the way, researching all this led me to the Ibrahim Index of national development in Africa, where I see Mauritius nicely perched on top (with the Seychelles varying from #2 to #3 along with Cape Verde). That leads back to a question I asked before but never got an answer to: Do Mauritians as a whole consider their country an African one, and themselves an African people?

  19. John, beyond briefly mentioning the official status of Seselwa, I had the intention of coming back to the long comment you posted on the 21st of September. I should come back to what you said there, hopefully today, but to address your specific query about the Africanity of Mauritius I’d say that, no, generally speaking people here don’t see themselves as being very much part of Africa.

    Okay, we all know we are linked to the African continent and we all know we belong to African organizations like the AU and the SADC, but in the hearts and minds we most probably think we are not like the other African nations, that we are apart. In a sense we are African by accident, because Mauritius happened to be geographically closer to Madagascar than to any other country; and Madagascar being itself off the coast of Africa, we were incorporated into that group of countries for practical reasons. Therefore, when BBC World is broadcast in Mauritius (with an absolutely awful quality of sound, which very little people complain about I’m sure), it is the “Network Africa” part of it, which is a bit of a nonsense. It would have made much more sense to broadcast the Asian network here.

    You do have a part of the population which is traditionally linked to Africa (the Creoles), but apart from a small group of militants like the ones from “Muvman Mobilization Kreol Afrikin” I believe very little people see themselves as real ethnic Africans. Mauritius having been such a mix of genes and culture for the first ones who arrived on its shores that it is fairly obvious the ethnic and cultural link with any population in Africa is at best a distant one today.

    Madagascar itself, from which a substantial part of the Creoles’ ancestors came from, is not a fully African nation. Malagasy languages are Austronesian languages, not African ones, and Léopold Sedar Senghor, le chantre de la négritude, wrote an “Anthologie de la nouvelle poésie nègre et malgache de langue française”, Madagascar being specifically mentioned after (and separately from) the term “negro”.

    Symetrically, I believe people from the continent don’t see us as real Africans either. In fact Mars is a lonely and distant planet of its own.

  20. John, I probably need to add that, though there is good ground for Mauritius not to be considered a “real”, “genuine” African country, there has been indeed an African influence over the island. First of all Creole itself is derived from the African languages spoken by the first slaves. This is not so much seen in the lexicon, though you do have some words of African origin, but more in the structure of the language. And there is also the sega, the song-dance traditionally associated with Mauritius, as well as the sirandanes (riddles). Culturally speaking there is also an African influence on customs and habits, and on some beliefs.

    But I’d say that all this African heritage has been much creolised, i.e. that it has been transformed by the insular context, which in the end made it very distinct from the continental African culture(s) it has come from. It became a culture of its own, which probably cannot be considered fully African anymore.

    (Incidentally, I don’t know how the English terms “creolisation” and “creolised” would apply to a whole culture rather than to a language only. In my mind the process of creolisation involves more than just language. It is the transformation of a culture coming into contact, in a geographically limited area, with other culture(s) and being transformed in the said process, thus producing an original new culture. In some French contexts, the adjective créole refers to people who were born and raised locally, as opposed to those who came from another place, whether freely or forcibly. Cf. Beniamino in Le Français de la Réunion: “CRÉOLE [2] n. m. (et f.) || Toute personne née à la Réunion.”)

  21. Siganus K.

    JC: The first question is, whose Kreyòl are we to write?

    The first question I would ask is “Why this -y and why this accent on the -o in the word Kreyòl?” These “clothes pegs”, as they are apparently known, are complicating the script beyond what seems reasonable. I personally think some accents are useful, at least in the case of Mauritian Creole, but in the case of Haitian it seems to go a bit overboard.

    Here we appear to have had the same kind of debate between the proponents of a script that would resolutely differ from French and those who thought it could be written the French way since the two languages are fairly similar (foreigners who speak neither one nor the other frequently mistake Creole for French). Things have cooled down a bit nowadays, and it looks as if everyone accepts the fact that it makes more sense for me to be written moi instead of mwa. After all, you see people writing Creole mostly as if it was French, the difference coming from the pronunciation. It’s not impossible to see a word written “aujourd’hui” and promounce it “azordi”. Most of the people selling rotis have a sign or an inscription displaying “roti chaud”. I believe everyone in his mind reads it “roti so”, with the Creole pronunciation.

    It would have been much easier, indeed, if the writing always reflected the pronunciation (more or less like in Finnish), but languages are rarely written right from their beginning and they come with a history, which explains why script and pronunciation can vary to a rather large degree, or have a variety of different scripts for equivalent sounds (like in English).

  22. « In some French contexts, the adjective créole refers to people who were born and raised locally, as opposed to those who came from another place, whether freely or forcibly. »

    In Latin America, criollo is generally used to refer to a person born in the colonies into a family not tainted by the blood of the locals (or of slaves). So it functions firstly at the level of the family and the individual. Criollos were contrasted with those who had mixed their blood, mestizos, and with peninsulares, those who had recently arrived from Spain. This distinction was officially recognised in the fact that many of the posts in the colonial administration were reserved for peninsulares.

    The criollo culture would then simply be the distinct practices that differentiate this group. In a country such as Guatemala, this persists, with there being around a hundred well-knwn families that continue to intermarry and pursue certain patterns regarding education, their political stances, the sources of their wealth, and so on, and who feel themselves stll to be ‘European/Spanish’ after 500 years. What new blood they have absorbed has been largely German.

  23. In Latin America, criollo is generally used to refer to a person born in the colonies into a family not tainted by the blood of the locals (or of slaves).

    It is also the acceptation of the word in standard French: “1. Personne de race blanche, née dans les colonies intertropicales, notamment les Antilles.” (Petit Robert 2006). What you said above about the Guatemalans who still consider themselves Spanish could by and large apply to the people known as Békés in the French West Indies.

    In Mauritius, though, the word Créole is used in another sense: it describes the (locally-born) people seen as having African blood (cf. this post).

  24. The clothes-pin was specifically the circumflex that was used for nasalized vowels rather than the usual suffixed n. It does rather look like one.

    Otherwise, I can only say that the y is present in Kreyòl because it is pronounced there, and that the accent grave over the o is present because ò is the graph used for the sound /ɔ/, which is distinct in stressed syllables from the sound /o/. Kreyòl does not use the acute accent, only the grave in ò and è. And as I noted above, even the grave is omitted when no ambiguity can result, as in the use of en rather than èn for nasalized è.

    The true split in the history of Kreyòl orthography is not, it seems, between those who wanted to write it as French and those who did not, the former being an insignificant minority (as indeed the number of persons who spoke French at the time was a tiny, though very culturally significant, minority). No, the questions were « Should it be written at all? » and « Whose Kreyòl should underlie the written standard? » The choice of using oi or wa or even oua was a relatively trivial one, though much ink was spilled over it nonetheless.

  25. marie-lucie

    In France, a light-skinned person whose appearance suggests some admixture of African ancestry can be said popularly to have le type créole, but this would not be said in the Antilles.

    The English Wikipedia article on the Békés opposes « whites » and « blacks », but unlike in the US where « one drop » of African « blood » makes you « black » (even if you can « pass for white »), in the Antilles (as in Brazil) there are numerous terms to refer to appearance or origin, not a sharp, absolute distinction between two races. The Békés are a social class, not just a racial specification: I don’t think that people from France such as teachers or government officials are considered Békés.

  26. Marie-Lucie, in the French acceptation of the word a Creole is somebody born locally, i.e. on the island. In that sense white people from France would not be called créoles, and they would therefore not be Békés.

    In Reunion one could for instance hear an expression like “créole chinois” (Chinese Creole), which would serve to differentiate a locally-born person of Chinese origin from a Chinese person born in China or somewhere else in Asia.

  27. marie-lucie

    white people from France would not be called créoles

    Of course not.

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