Kaltori is not a difficult language, and it is certainly not a precious one. It has pure vowels — no drifting, no diphthongs, nothing that slides on the way out. It doubles its consonants and means it (Pocka, Dolluk). And it puts the stress on the second-to-last syllable, every time, without exception, which means that once you know a word you already know how to say it.
Vowels first, because everything else follows from them. a as in father. e as in bed. i as in machine. o as in door. u as in food. That is the whole system. There is no eleventh vowel waiting to embarrass you.
And a word about getting it wrong, which you will: nobody in Kaltora has ever been corrected for their accent by anyone whose opinion mattered. Attempting the language is, in itself, the entire courtesy. The pronunciation is a detail. Here are ten to start with.
1. Kallo! — hello
[KAL-lo] Both ls. Lean on the first syllable. It is also the King's name — Kallo means good, or welcome, depending on how generous you are feeling — which means that every time a Kaltoran greets you they are, very faintly, calling you a good thing. Nobody notices this any more. It works anyway.
2. Kallvenu! — welcome
[kal-VEH-nu] Stress the middle. This is the one you will hear at the door, and it is not a formality: the woman whose entire office is built on this word is called the Kallvena, the One Who Welcomes, and she cannot refuse anyone entry. It is not within the powers of the office. You can read about Lyra Kaelor, who has held the post for eleven years and has never once needed to.
3. Meru! — thanks
[MEH-ru] Short, flat, and used constantly. Kaltorans thank each other far more often than the situation warrants, on the theory that the day you start rationing it is the day you have begun keeping accounts.
4. Vaya pa! — goodbye
[VA-ya PA] Two words, both light. It is closer to go well than to farewell, and it carries no finality at all. You say it to someone leaving for the harbour and to someone leaving forever, and the difference is entirely in your face.
5. Eta bena! — eat well
[EH-ta BEH-na] Said as the food lands, by the person handing it over, every single time. It is not optional. A Kaltoran who puts a plate down in silence has either forgotten themselves or is very angry with you, and the second is more likely.
6. Salu! — cheers
[SA-lu] For a glass, a cup, a good outcome, or the end of an argument. It works over a flat white at seven in the morning and over whatever you are drinking at eleven at night, and it is one of the very few Kaltori words that Australians get right on the first attempt.
7. ka — the
[ka] The definite article, and it does not change. Not for gender, not for number, not for mood. Ka Chacka — the Chacka. Kaltori has looked at what other languages do with their articles and quietly declined.
8. vo — of
[vo] The possession particle, and the reason so many Kaltoran names have a vo in the middle: it tells you which region a person belongs to. It is also the reason the Kallvena has no vo at all — on taking the post she gives up her regional name, because she is the first Kaltoran a stranger meets and must therefore belong to all of it. She belongs to the border.
9. un, do, tre — one, two, three
[un] [do] [tre] The counting goes on — kar, pent, ses, seta, oka, nov, dek — but three is as far as most visitors ever need to get, because three is the number of Chackas an ordinary person can carry in one hand, and because it is the number of Chackas the King ordered and did not pay for. He owes us 178 Dolluk. The full account is here.
10. Etar prima. Demanda posa. — Feed First. Ask Questions Later.
[EH-tar PREE-ma · de-MAN-da PO-sa] The national motto, and the only sentence on this page that is actually a law. Food arrives before the interrogation. Always. The questions are asked afterwards, sincerely, and they are better questions for having been asked over something warm.
A bonus, freely given
Nolku vada etsin. — Nobody leaves hungry. Ministry of Hospitality, standing doctrine
[NOL-ku VA-da ET-sin] This one is not a phrase you will need to say. It is a phrase that will be said about you, if we have done our job. A Kaltoran table is always set with one extra place, for the person who has not arrived yet and may never; and in Fremantle, at the rear of the DADAA Building on Adelaide Street, we intend to keep that place set too.
That is ten. If you want the sounds, the grammar and the rest of the vocabulary properly — the plurals, the tense particles, the reason adjectives come after the noun — start at Learn Kaltori. And if you would rather skip straight to being a citizen, the passport office is open, which is more than can be said for the café.
Vaya pa!