Enough about the “British style” and the “American way” already. There are other nations speaking English out there. It is the official language in 58 sovereign states and recognised, if not spoken, almost everywhere else. One such place is New Zealand, where we speak a special language. Let’s call it Kiwinglish.

In the UK it’s arse, in the USA it’s ass. And in New Zealand, it’s kumu. Well, maybe not just yet. You might not hear this Maori word all the time in New Zealand right now, but I’d be willing to bet the William Webb-Ellis Cup you’ll hear it, and other words like it, a lot more frequently in the future. My point being: the Maori language is not only the biggest difference between Kiwinglish and British and American English, it’s also the most significant driver of linguistic and cultural differentiation. And most importantly, its use in everyday language is on the up.

To put it into perspective, the Maori language was actively suppressed for many years after colonisation. It was banned in schools and pupils were even punished for speaking it. Compare that with today, where by recent accounts there are as many as 1,000 Maori words used regularly by non-native speakers. Words like waka (technically canoe, but often used to describe any motor vehicle), kia ora (hello), kai (food), puku (belly, stomach), and whanau (family) can now be heard interspersed in everyday Kiwi conversation.

The Maori language is evident in more than just spoken, colloquial language. It is becoming part of the language of NZ officialdom. Take tangata whenua (people of the land) and iwi (tribe) for example. They’re now commonly used in the press and, importantly, in legislation, without an accompanying English translation.

The development of Kiwi in this direction is tumeke! (awesome)! The use of Maori words and phrases is representative of increased recognition (and revival) of Maori culture and of demographic and social changes. It’s not just a distancing from British heritage (intentional or otherwise), it’s an expression of a unique identity.

This uptake of indigenous words and phrases, although significant, is not the only thing that’s helping to transform modern Kiwi; it’s also the way that traditionally British words have changed meaning on their journey down under.

Most of you will recognise phrases such as sweet as (an incredibly versatile, generally positive locution which can mean anything from “extraordinarily good” to “OK, I suppose”) or get off the grass (an exclamation of disbelief, sometimes an imperative). Even words like jandals (flip-flops) and togs (swimming costume) might sound familiar to anyone from the northern hemisphere.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Witi Ihimaera, author of The Whale Rider, perhaps the best-known Maori writer today. The Maori language was suppressed for many years. Photograph: Murdo Macleod

So, is NZ English easy for native Englanders to understand? TripAdvisor accurately warns: “English is spoken throughout New Zealand, although there are many local acronyms and phrases that may confuse foreign visitors.” Helpful, that. Especially for a tourist faced with words like munted or pakaru (broken), dairy (off-licence or small supermarket), stoked (happy, pleased, relieved) and bach (small holiday home).

If you’re thirsty, don’t ask for tea, because you’ll end up with dinner (as you will in some northern parts of England). Wellies is the capital city, not protective footwear (although wellies will come in handy in Wellies). Root is used mostly to refer to sex. Find a different verb if you want to talk about supporting your soccer (football) team or you’re looking around for something you’ve lost.

Oh, and watch out for irony. Because spoken Kiwinglish is relentlessly tongue-in-cheek. When we say one thing, we probably mean the other. So if someone calls you a winner don’t celebrate, you’ve likely just had a mare (made a fool of yourself or lost by a large margin). And quite nice is generally used to refer to something that is the complete opposite.

As is used ubiquitously to exaggerate any preceding adjective, like hungry as (very hungry) and beached as (well and truly stuck or in difficult circumstances). The aye? tacked on to the end of every spoken sentence is rhetorical. Piss refers to alcoholic beverages (generally beer). To sink piss is to drink beer. And a chilly bin is a container that keeps your piss cold while you’re at the bach.

Many of these peculiarities have their roots in British English, yet have been moulded by New Zealand’s geographical isolation, politics, culture and society.

Take sheep for example. They’re a big part of our identity, both historical and contemporary. And they’ve had a big impact on our language. Although sheep numbers are declining, the old saying that they outnumber people remains true. (In case you’re interested, the current stats stand at just over seven sheep per person – down from a peak of 22 per person in 1982). Anyway, you could half-fill a dictionary with words that have developed out of our “special” association with sheep, including pink (verb, to shear a sheep so closely that the skin shows), breakback (to run in the opposite direction to the drive), and cobbler (nothing to do with shoes – this the most stubborn of sheep or the last to be sheared).

Finally, let’s look at what is perhaps the most obvious difference between Kiwis and Brits: the accent. The way that Kiwis flatten vowels into an unrecognisable monotone is all to do with phonemes, those perceptually distinct units of sound that make up a language. Officially, New Zealand English (NZE) has the same 20-vowel phoneme system as British received pronunciation. However, since the millennium, there are only 19 phonemes evident in spoken NZE. The distinction between the phonemes in “near” and “square”, for example, has pretty much disappeared.

So keep a taringa (ear) out for what’s happening with our common language down under. It’ll be a big help if you make the epic journey to our shores. It may also help to explain why what was once considered the most British of the colonies is drifting away.

Ultimately, if you understand less and less of what we’re saying, how will you ever beat us at rugby?

Sam O’Flaherty is a proud Kiwi and a copywriter at Barnaby Benson Copywriting.

