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The Language with No Numbers
- Cellmates
- Apr 7
- 4 min read
Not counting their blessings. The language that doesn’t tot up the tots!
A numberless, colourless, tenseless language?
EMMA SMELTZER adds up the ways the Amazonian Pirahã tribe have become a linguistic cause célèbre.
One, two, three… Un, deux, trois… один, два, три… Whatever language(s) you speak - whether it’s your first as a baby or your fifth as a multilingual adult - numbers are certainly one of the key things that you learn. Because they’re useful to know, right? Numbers all around us. Age, money, time, size measurements – the purposes of them are countless, but what if a language lacked the numerals we are oh-so-familiar with?
A Missionary Turned Linguist
Sequestered away within the Amazon Rainforest is the Pirahã tribe. The hunter-gathers are about 800 strong (Profil, 2018) and primarily live in villages along the Maici River in north-western Brazil. In 1977, missionary Daniel Everett ventured into the rainforest with the intent of bringing Christianity to the Pirahã people. What ended up emerging from amid the dense foliage was no shepherd with a new flock, but rather an intrigued linguist with a thirst for knowledge. Everett did not gain a single convert, but that didn’t matter to him because he ditched the cross for a degree and brought his knowledge of the Pirahã language to the field of linguistics.
Something’s Not Adding Up in the Amazon…
During his time with the Pirahã, it had quickly become apparent to Everett (1986) that they had no numbers. If he laid out three stones, a tribe member might tell him he had “a small amount”. If he added a fourth, he might still have “a small amount”. If he doubled his stones, he might end up with “a large amount”. Not once did the Pirahã specify a quantity or count out anything, because they don’t have specific numbers. Instead, they only have hói, to refer to a small quantity, and hoí, to refer to a large quantity. In his numerous (no pun intended) works, Everett explains that the Pirahã are entirely capable of counting, but they simply have no need for it within their society. Everett had some success with teaching Pirahã children Portuguese numbers, but once a child showed their capabilities, they were sent away from the lessons. Flashforwards to 2012 … the documentary The Grammar of Happiness revealed a school had been built within a Pirahã village and maths was being taught. But these numbers were the Portuguese that Everett had attempted way back when. So Pirahã maintains its lack of numbers, even in the face of influence from the outside.
Colour Me Surprised (or Maybe You Can’t…)
The intrigues of the Pirahã language don’t end there, because they also lack terms for colours. English speakers have a plethora of colour descriptions. From plain old “blue” to “navy blue” to “light steel blue”, it’s easy to become overwhelmed when trying to pick out that perfect shade for your bedroom wall. But the Pirahã wouldn’t have this problem – and that has nothing to do with the lack of B&Qs in the middle of the Amazon Rainforest. As Everett (2005) explains, they only have specific terms for “light” and “dark”. He does state they’ve also got some descriptive phrases, such as referring to red as “blood-like”, but there are no true colour terms beyond light and dark in the way we have grey, green, purple, pink, orange, and so on.
Past, Present, and Future
Something else setting Pirahã apart from other languages is its lack of verb tenses. In English, we can say, “I cooked the food” to indicate the food has already been cooked. That’s our past tense, which is marked here by the -ed suffix on the root “cook”. Pirahã adds that to the list of things it doesn’t have. Everett (1986) documented that the Pirahã were living entirely in the present. Whether the cooking occurred days ago or will only happen once the sun sets, they would only ever refer to this – or any – action in the present tense. The Grammar of Happiness (2012) documentary states that this means the Pirahã live entirely in the present. They do not think about what has already occurred, nor what will occur. They live for the here, and they live for the now. While perhaps they don’t dwell on the past or future as much as the rest of the world because they’re highly secure in their lives and environment, it does seem implausible they’d never spare a thought for anything but the present. Unless they’ve got some secrets Everett wasn’t privy to, Pirahã aren’t immortal – they know the inevitability of death. The Pirahã had long rejected external contact, but tragically in the 1960’s and 70’s, measles outbreaks began claiming the lives of their babies. This prompted them to turn to missionaries for help, which seems to indicate they were indeed thinking of the futures of their young. It also implies they recognised the signs of measles and therefore remembered what had happened to the previous ill. It’s certainly a bold claim that the Pirahã are happily living exclusively in the present, and one (or should that be “a small amount”?) that can have holes poked in it with a little critical thought.
None the Worse
And so, a group of people live on with their lack of numbers, colours, and verb tenses, and, hey, maybe they’re better for it, if The Grammar of Happiness is to be believed? It’s for the best that Everett’s religious colonialism didn’t take hold with the tribe. If an outlier miserable Pirahã discovered Christmas and needed to be visited by a certain three ghosts to inspire a change of character, the Ghost of Christmas Present might not have been able get the job done alone!
Written by EMMA SMELTZER (BA English Language student, University of Chester, UK)
References
Everett, D. (1986). Pirahã. In D. Derbyshire (Ed.), Handbook of Amazonian Languages: Vol 1 (315 – 317). De Gruyter Mouton.
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