When my Swiss husband’s aunt died, I asked my husband what I should say to his German-speaking widower-uncle after the funeral service. Knowing my constant struggle in oral German, he suggested that I use a very simple line: “Viel Kraft (More power).”
So I made a quick mental note to say “More power” in German to my husband’s uncle, who doesn’t speak a word of English. En route to the Basel church graveyard, I rehearsed the delivery of my one-line script: “Viel Kraft!” “Viel Kraft!” “Viel Kraft!.” Piece of cake, I thought. I stopped worrying about it soon after my three-minute pronunciation drill.
After four hours or so — we were treated to a sit-down dinner after the funeral rites — it was time to say good-bye to all the family members. We joined the queue of sympathizers, and I started to clear my throat. It took some time before we were able to approach the frail-looking, eightyish Uncle Paul.
For some reason, my confidence level dropped as I was getting near the teary-eyed relative of my husband; I suddenly became self-conscious. When it was finally my turn to express my personal condolences, I extended my hand to the old man and said to him with feelings, “Viel krank, Uncle Paul!” He looked rather confused. I, meanwhile, suddenly became speechless.
The German word krank means “sick” in English. So while I had genuinely wished Uncle Paul more physical and emotional power (Kraft) in a time of great loss, an honest mistake in word choice caused me to actually wish him more sickness in this lifetime.
Perhaps the people milling around us thought I wanted the poor, old man sick — and eventually dead — so he could be reunited with his beloved wife soon. (Basel, Switzerland/February 2005)
