Obstetrics

Yesterday I received an e-mail from a first-time visitor to Germany. I'd joked earlier that the few words my visiting friend had used to explain the "labeling problem" were easy ones. For a Shakespearean actor such as Brian, there should be no trouble figuring out that "apotheke" meant "pharmacy." And "bananen" is obviously banana. Surely, I jibed, it must get harder than this. So yesterday's follow-up message, while also detailing the money exchange and shoe size conversions, included a list of completely unfamiliar words, among them spargel, gemuses, obst, and hauptbahnhof.

Being the smart-aleck that I am, I quickly shot off my guesses for each word. "Spargel" is what my boat does when I wash it. "Gemuses" are a herd of German elk. "Obst," I said, is the doctor who delivers your baby. And "Hauptbahnhof"? Obviously, that's the guy from Baywatch. After several more such definitions, I hit "send," remembering that Brian had suggested that my "smart" resided somewhere south of my "aleck."

Soon after sending my response, I looked up the meaning of each word. One, spargel, was an unfair test; I never use the English version of the word (to avoid spoiling the fun for those who are guessing now, I'll print the translation at the bottom of this post). But another caught me by surprise. Because, in a round-about way, I'd been right.

I'd joked that "obst" suggested a reproductive doctor. Short for obstetrician, the "obst" would be the doctor who deals with the care of a pregnant woman through pregnancy, childbirth, and recuperation. This, of course, is not what "obst" actually translates to; it translates to "fruit."

Fruit is the ripened ovary of a seed-bearing plant. Much like a baby is the ripened ovary of a seed-bearing woman. Pregnancy is the fruit of her efforts; the baby the fruit of her womb. "Obst" could easily be the root word of obstetrics.

And my aleck could have a future in etymology.


The translations:
Spargel: asparagus; Gemuses: vegetables; Obst: fruit; Hauptbahnhof: main station