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Huh? What surfers mean when they're carving and charging at the Olympics or at home

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Huh? What surfers mean when they're carving and charging at the Olympics or at home

Some things are inevitable when surfing in Southern California: It can feel like an exclusive club, you may have to battle traffic to get to the good waves, and overhearing a very specific, and sometimes confusing, dialogue.

When you paddle out, it’s as though you’ve entered a new world with its own language that might sound like: “Did you see that kook? He snaked me on such a gnarly wave!”

No, this is not Gen Z-speak. No “rizz” is to be found, no cap, and while what surfers might say in the water to each other may be “sus,” you’re more likely to hear “gnarly” intertwined with “drop-in” or “barrel.”

Like every generation has its slang, so do surfers and, my, how it has evolved over the decades. Some surfer lingo — like stoked — has even seeped into Southern California non-surf-related parlance, but that depends on how close you are to the coast.

“Surfing does seem to have this other layer of words that are special to us,” said Matt Warshaw, author of the “Encyclopedia of Surfing” and “The History of Surfing.” “There’s also sort of a cadence to it. It’s also trying to decode what level of irony we are throwing out there.”

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If you tuned into the Olympic surfing competition at Tahiti’s Teahupo’o, you may have noticed that the commentators are keenly aware of the subculture’s language eccentricities. They are graciously explaining surf maneuvers and terms to a global audience.

If you’re interested in joining the club or want to better navigate the lineup, knowing these words might mean the difference between a good surf experience and a bad one. In between waiting for waves, here are a few common surf terms we’ve overheard recently:

A-frame wave, n.
Used to describe a wave that breaks in the shape of an “A” and often referred to as a “peaky wave,” A-frames allow surfers to ride the breaking wave in both directions or split the peak. A-frame waves can occur almost anywhere, but more often than not they occur at sandy beaches during the right surf conditions.

Barrel, n. and v.
A barrel is used to describe a hollow, more powerful wave and the act of surfing inside the hollow section of a wave.

If you watched some of this year’s Olympic surfing competition at Tahiti’s Teahupo’o, you may have noticed the lip of the wave pitches and forms a hollowed-out curl. This is referred to as a barrel and is one of the most highly sought-after surfing experiences. When the right swell breaks over its very shallow reef, Teahupo’o is one of the most dangerous barrel rides in the world.

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Charging, v. Often used to describe a surfer aggressively paddling for bigger waves and putting all their effort into catching those waves, charging can be used as a compliment from one surfer to another, like: “I saw you charging that big wave!”

Dropping in, v. Dropping in is often used to reference a surfer cutting off another who is already riding the wave. This action is referencing a surf etiquette violation and often leads to frustration.

Gnarly, adj. Originally from the word “gnarled” meaning rough or twisted, surfers adapted this word in the 1970s to describe a situation that can be seen as extreme such as riding an intimidating wave, said Warshaw.

“That’s one we didn’t make up, but we certainly adapted for our own use,” said Warshaw, recalling a 1972 Surfer Magazine photo caption of a “horrific looking wave” that first used the word. ”It’s a perfect way to describe … the kind of waves that we look at and ride. Apply that to any situation that is a little bit hairy,” he said.

Kook, n. Occasionally spelled “kuk,” this word is often used by surfers to describe a less experienced surfer. Arguably one of the most derogatory terms in the surf world, kook has origins in the Hawaiian word “kukae,” which means crap. The word describes a surfer who doesn’t understand surf etiquette or has a poor attitude.

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“Sometimes I’ll say it if other people in the lineup have no idea what they’re doing … that’s how surfing is unfortunately,” said Joseph Barber, a recreational surfer from San Clemente. “[The waves are] a scarce resource, and when you add a lot of people who don’t know what they’re doing, it gets intense.”

Lineup, n. This refers to the area just beyond the breaking waves where surfers are waiting for waves. These spots can vary in size and, depending on the swell, are the official locations where people must paddle out to catch waves and wait their turn.

Pearling, v. When a surfer puts too much weight at the front of their board, the tip of the board will submerge in the water, often resulting in the surfer flailing or falling off their board. Akin to pearl diving, said Warshaw, the term is reminiscent of a person diving from a boat or pier.

Shaka, v. The hand gesture most closely associated with surf culture, shaka is formed by making a fist with the thumb and pinky fingers extended. Though the gesture is closely associated with Hawaiian surf culture in the 1970s, the Oxford English Dictionary says it potentially has Japanese roots.

“If a camera comes out, my hand almost automatically goes up into that [gesture], even though it looks sort of silly. It’s basically just a greeting,” said Warshaw. “The thing that used to go with shaka is ‘howzit.’ ”

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Along with shaka, howzit is a Hawaiian slang term for “how’s it going.”

Stoked, n. Stoked means to feed a fire, and in surfer language, it is an expression of pure excitement and the satisfaction one may feel after catching a good wave or completing a difficult maneuver. According to the Encyclopedia of Surfing, surfers began using this expression in the 1950s and has been a common expression both in and out of the water ever since.

“When surfers are feeling excited to surf, they might say, ‘I’m so stoked,’ ‘I’m psyching’ or, my personal favorite, ‘I’m frothing,’ ” said Kevin Tran, a recreational surfer from San Clemente.

As you paddle out to the lineup, remember that surfing is more than just riding waves — it’s a community with its own subculture that can vary from locale to locale. Whether you’re frothing for the next set wave or just stoked to be part of the scene, understanding the language — and of course, surf etiquette — will help you navigate the surf with more confidence.

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Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, Kenyan literary giant who fought colonialism, dies at 87

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Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, Kenyan literary giant who fought colonialism, dies at 87

Kenyan writer Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o was a champion of local African languages.

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Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, the Kenyan writer and novelist who critiqued colonial rule as well as the post-colonial Kenyan government, died Wednesday in a hospital in Buford, Georgia. He was 87 years old.

His daughter, Wanjiku Wa Ngugi, first announced the news in a Facebook post.

Ngũgĩ’s writing career began in 1964, with the novel Weep Not, Child. It was about a family living in colonial Kenya during the Mau Mau rebellion, which fought back against British rule. The book became an important part of the African literary canon.

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He was a strong advocate for writing in local African languages. His 1980 novel, Devil on the Cross, was published in the Gikuyu language. “One of the greatest tragedies of Africa is a complete disconnection of the elite from their linguistic base,” Ngũgĩ told NPR in 2013.

“If Africa is going to contribute something original to the world, this must be rooted not only in the experience but also in the possibilities inherent in their own languages,” he said. “We have been brought up to think of our many languages as something which is bad. And it’s the other way around. Monolingualism suffocates. It is a bad thing. Language contact is the oxygen of civilization.”

Ngũgĩ wrote Devil on the Cross while he was in prison. In 1977, he co-wrote a play in Gikuyu and produced it in a local theater in Kenya. And while he’d previously written work critical of the Kenyan government in English, it was this play that got him sent to a maximum security prison, though he was never charged.

Born in 1938 in Kenya when it was a British colony, he originally went by James Ngugi. He went to Alliance High School, an elite boarding school, where he got to wear uniforms and play chess and read Shakespeare while his family was dealing with living under colonial rule. He wrote about this tension in his memoir In the House of the Interpreter. In the 2013 NPR interview, he said this experience informed his decision to write in Gikuyu – that he was sent to get an education in hopes of empowering his community.

“In reality, because of language, what happens is that the messenger who is sent by the community to go and fetch knowledge from wherever they can get it becomes a prisoner,” Ngũgĩ said. He never returns, so to speak, metaphorically because he stays within the language of his captivity.”

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Ngũgĩ eventually became a professor of comparative literature at the University of California, Irvine, and was founding director of the school’s International Center for Writing and Translation. He was the recipient of many literary awards, and was also constantly name-checked in discussions for a potential Nobel win. But in 2020, he told NPR that he appreciated what he called the “Nobel of the heart,” which is when someone reads his work and tells him it impacted them.

“The beauty about the Nobel of the heart is it’s very democratic,” he said. “It’s available to every writer.”

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Josh Allen Touches Down In California Ahead of Hailee Steinfeld Wedding

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Josh Allen Touches Down In California Ahead of Hailee Steinfeld Wedding

Josh Allen
I’m Going Clubbing!!!
Lands In California Ahead of Wedding Day

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In 'The Party's Interests Come First,' Joseph Torigian tries to understand Xi Jinping through his father

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In 'The Party's Interests Come First,' Joseph Torigian tries to understand Xi Jinping through his father

Xi Jinping, left, with his father Xi Zhongxun in 1958.

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To many observers of China, its top leader, Xi Jinping, is an enigma. Scholars and journalist have tried to glean insight into his thinking by reading his speeches and writings and going through archival tape.

Joseph Torigian, an associate professor at American University in Washington D.C., takes another approach through his forthcoming bookThe Party’s Interests Come First — a riveting, if dense, biography of Xi Zhongxun, the leader’s father and a noted Chinese politician himself.

What is striking about The Party’s Interests Come First is the book’s emphasis on understanding the emotional life of the elder Xi (in addition to its extensive archival research), and how a lifetime of enduring immense psychological pain and personal tragedy shaped the father’s political convictions and may have sharpened those of his son’s.

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Below is a conversation NPR had with Torigian about his research. It has been edited for clarity.

A new book examines the life of Xi Zhongxun, the famous father of China's current leader, Xi Jinping - and how father may have shaped the son.

A new book examines the life of Xi Zhongxun, the famous father of China’s current leader, Xi Jinping – and how father may have shaped the son.

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FENG: Why focus on Xi Jinping’s father?

TORIGIAN: Xi Jinping has often described how his own political agenda is rooted in what he learned from the revolutionary elders, and his father was one of the most important of those individuals. Like his father, Xi is also the product of multiple sources of gravity and is a politician who often, I think, reacts according to the specifics of the situation.

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The more interesting story here isn’t what Xi Jinping learned from his father, but what Xi Zhongxun tells us about the nature of the Chinese Communist Party in the 20th century. And the reason for that is Xi Zhongxun was someone who had a front row seat to many crucial moments that are foundational for our understanding of modern Chinese history. He was someone who helped build the regime. He was someone who helped incorporate Xinjiang into the People’s Republic of China. He was someone who worked for Zhou Enlai in the 1950s. He was someone who worked for general secretary Hu Yaobang in the 1980s. He was deeply involved in the party’s relationship with foreign communist parties. He was someone who led the party’s efforts with ethnic minorities such as Tibetans and Uyghurs. He was the party’s point person on relations with Catholics. And so understanding how the party has changed over time and how it has thought about these issues is something we can learn by looking at Xi Zhongxun’s life.

FENG: What does his life say about the Chinese Communist Party as a political entity that’s persisted over decades, despite multiple challenges when many other communist regimes have collapsed?

TORIGIAN: You know, outside observers who look at China often see elite politics as a division between good guys and bad guys, as a division between pro-reformers and anti-reformers. And what emerges from my book is an individual with fault lines within himself, an individual who was a man of competing impulses, an individual who was no stranger to the extraordinary emotional, organizational and coercive power of the party but also had his own views on things. And he struggled to manage those two parts of himself throughout his entire life, although ultimately it was the party’s interests that came first for him.

When you read my book, one of the questions it poses is whether a different party was ever possible. And one of the reasons that question is there is because Xi Zhongxun was most prominent in the 1950s and the 1980s. These were moments when many figures in the top leadership believed that a more consensus-oriented, less confrontational regime was possible. But of course, by the late 1950s and again at the end of the 1980s, both of those periods ended. The book reveals, I think, why those moments of experimentation failed, which is that ultimately the party decided that a model of co-optation, a model of less revolutionary zeal, was one that made the regime vulnerable.

FENG: One of the big themes in your book is personal suffering of the Xi family. The patriarch, Xi Zhongxun, and Xi Jinping himself underwent just huge amounts of personal pain and tragedy. Why do you think that’s important to highlight? How did that shape come into being the politicians they are today?

Joseph Torigian

Joseph Torigian

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TORIGIAN: So that’s one central puzzle of the book is how someone like Xi Zhongxun, who suffered so much at the hands of his own party, remained so dedicated to it and why his son, who witnessed his father’s humiliation and suffering, has dedicated his life to the Chinese Communist Party as well.

To understand that requires an appreciation for the political culture that these individuals marinated in. They were part of a system that believed that suffering was something that dedicated you to the cause and revealed just how much you cared about it. And so if you’re Xi Jinping and you’re witnessing this, I think it’s possible to presume that you might have two reactions. One is, if my father continued to remain faithful, then why wouldn’t I? And second, since my father suffered so much at the hands of this party, I want to show just what my family is capable of. And I want to be redder than red.

FENG: Why do you think that suffering then didn’t compel Xi Jinping to reform the party, to make it less dogmatic and to be so black and white when it comes to enforcing top-down policies?

TORIGIAN: Well, it’s certainly the case that many people who went through the Cultural Revolution came out of it with very different conclusions. Some believed, after witnessing that chaos, that the party needed constitutionalism, that it needed rule of law, that it needed to avoid another strongman leader from leading the country onto a path like that. And so how you react to that kind of political experience reveals something about you because the answers are not always immediately obvious. It tells us something about Xi Jinping. And what Xi Jinping learned, it seems, was that if you take ideology too seriously, that’s dangerous because you get a Cultural Revolution. When you don’t have a strong state, people act in dangerous ways.

Xi Jinping waves as he leaves after speaking at a press event with members of the new Standing Committee of the Political Bureau of the Communist Party of China and Chinese and Foreign journalists at The Great Hall of People on October 23, 2022 in Beijing, China.

Xi Jinping waves as he leaves after speaking at a press event with members of the new Standing Committee of the Political Bureau of the Communist Party of China and Chinese and Foreign journalists at The Great Hall of People on October 23, 2022 in Beijing, China.

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FENG: Why was it important to you to give such a human face to Xi Zhongxun?

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TORIGIAN: You know, when we think about a Bolshevik, we tend to have an image of a person without interiority. Counterintuitively, precisely because the party wanted to impose so much on the people who were in it, the party created an interiority because they had to hide their true selves. So there is this constant tension within him between human-ness and party-ness, where on the one hand Xi Zhongxun was someone with his own views, his own ambitions, and his own emotions. Yet on the other hand, he was expected to do whatever the top leader wanted, to keep his own doubts to himself, and to obey the party’s interests. It was never easy for him, even though his so-called “party nature” always emerged triumphant.

Xi Zhongxun’s own children learned different lessons about the meaning of their father’s life. One of them very sadly killed herself during the Cultural Revolution. One of them apparently had sympathies with the pro-reform elders in Beijing that hoped for a path that was different from the one that Xi Jinping took. Other members of the family wanted to make a lot of money.  Xi Jinping stands out for his devotion to the party and his skepticism of materialism – traits that suggest he believes that he is taking the revolutionary baton from his father.

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