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It’s a Math World After All

by Joyce McGreevy on September 8, 2020

Students in a library before the pandemic remind the author that in 2020 remote learners can still make math connections across cultures. (Image by Andrew Tan)

Schools & libraries minus students times pandemic = many variables in where we learn.
Andrew Tan/ Pixabay

Math Connections Across Cultures

Every September, billions of students around the world go back to school. But in 2020, “back to school” favors logging on from home. Fortunately, remote learners can still enjoy everybody’s favorite subject—math.

Oh, it’s not your favorite?  Well, before you count math out, please join me on a virtual math field trip. No masks, no calculus required.

We’re off to discover how people have made math connections across cultures. We’ll count on traditional number systems and weigh in on the world’s most unusual units of measurement.  We’ll even collect souvenirs—cross-cultural math tips that quickly translate equations into solutions.

A collage of number plates inspire a remote learner to make creative math connections across cultures.

Guess the missing numbers <10: Are you at 6s & 7s with math or is it easy as 1-2-3?
High 5 if doing math puts you on Cloud 9!

When History Subtracts Cultures

Many of us grew up with a Euro-centric idea of math’s origins. It’s as if mathematical concepts never occurred to anyone until one sunny Greek day when Pythagoras swaggered into show-and-tell with his right angles, theorems, and proofs.  This was 6 BCE—not that anyone, even Pythagoras, could have known that. (Think about it.)

However, as historians like Sally Ragep and George Gheverghese Joseph have pointed out, by that time ancient scholars in Egypt, Iraq, India, and China had already turned in thousands of years’ worth of math homework.

Even math tools go back 35,000 years, to the Lebombo bone of Swaziland (now the kingdom of Eswatini). Archaeologists discovered the bone had been carved into a 29-notch measuring stick. Whether someone used it to tally things or to measure time (like the lunar cycle), we’ll never know. But this artifact shows that we’ve been counting on math throughout human history—no bones about it.

An ancient water clock discovered in Iran inspires a remote learner to make math connections across cultures. (Image by Maahmaah)

This water clock found in Iran has been measuring time for 2,500 years.
Photo by Maamaah

Countless Ways to Count!

Today, most people count using the base 10 number system. Historians say it’s because fingers were the first math tools. Ancient Mayans developed a sophisticated base 20 system, leading scholars to surmise that they also factored in toes.

In New Guinea, the Oksapmin have preserved a traditional base-27 counting system. Counting starts at one thumb, touches the wrist and forearms, goes up to the neck and nose, and continues down the other side of the body to the pinky of the other hand. Try it!

In France, counting begins as base 10 (“une, deux, trois . . .”). But once you pass 71— voila!—it switches to base 20. For example, 72 is soixante-douze, “sixty twelve,” and 80 is quatre-vingts, “four twenties.”

The Danish system throws in fractions. For instance, 50 is halvtreds, an abbreviation of “half third times twenty.”

The West African Yoruba number system ups the ante. In every set of ten numbers over 10, you add to express the fist four numbers. (The word for 14, męrinla, means “10 + 4.” ) Wait, there’s more! You then subtract to express the last five numbers in the set. (The word for 17,  étàdílógún, means “20 – 3.”)

A vintage calculator made in Germany inspires a remote learner to make math connections across cultures.

Like 1970s calculators, a 1920s German “Addiator” reflected
the assumption that everyone used base 10.

Something from Nothing

Let’s zip back to zero. More than 36,000 years ago, the Mayans developed a concept of it, using the symbol of an empty shell. Yet zero remained a placeholder until the first century BCE.

That’s when a Persian mathematician, Mohammed ibn-Musa al-Khowarizmi, used zero to do breakthrough calculations. Al-Khowarizmi’s rules became known as algorithms, and the title of his published work, Kitab al-Jabr, gave us a whole new subject: algebra.

Once the concept of zero finally reached Europe, it caused a sensation. Among scholars, zero was suddenly Number 1. How slowly did zero travel? According to Daniel Tammet, author of Thinking in Numbers, William Shakespeare became one of the first English schoolboys to learn about it.

And if you think that nothing in math class made an impression on Shakespeare, you’re right. “Nothing” made such an indelible impression that it inspired extensive wordplay in at least six of the dramatist’s best plays. When it comes to zero, or cipher, as it was then called, Shakespeare really did make much ado about nothing.

London’s Globe Theatre reminds a remote learner that Shakespeare turned math connections into wordplay when the concept of zero crossed cultures from Iran to England.

Plays performed in-the-round let Shakespeare “zero” in on cypher-space wordplay.

Let Us Count the Weighs

Virtually all cultures count and measure, but how we do this encompasses a world of variables. For example, which three countries still use a system of units that has ancient Roman and Old English roots? According to the not-at-all-secret CIA Factbook, it’s Liberia, Myanmar, and the United States.

Americans’ use of the terms feet and miles derives from the Latin mille passus, “a thousand paces” as marched by Roman soldiers. Latin also produced uncia, which Old English called ynch, giving us “inch.” Yes, give us an ynch and we’ll take a mille.

Risotto reminds a remote learner that making math connections across cultures like ancient Rome can add up to tasty dividends. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Ancient Romans coined the word libras, for “pounds,” abbreviated as lbs.
Then they invented tasty ways to gain them.
© Joyce McGreevy

In 1795 France established the system that most of the world uses, introducing the word mètre, from the ancient Greek word for “measure.”(Some countries, like England, are mostly metric but occasionally nod to the older system by using miles on road signs.)

Today, as the metric system gains ground in American culture, tourists have adapted to using it overseas. Mostly. One U.S. traveler at a charcuterie placed an order using kilomètre instead of kilo. Fortunately, the butcher knew the traveler meant 2.20 pounds of ham, not .62 miles’ worth.

How Many Square Smoots in an Oxgang?

Over centuries, different cultures invented unusual units of measurement:

  • Ireland: A cow’s grass was the amount of land it took to support a cow.
  • Scotland: An oxgang was the amount of land tillable by an ox.
  • Massachusetts: A smoot is 5 foot 7 inches, the height of one Oliver Smoot. In 1958, Smoot’s college buddies used him to measure the Harvard Bridge. It’s 364.4 smoots, “plus or minus one ear.”
  • Finland’s measurements once included poronkusema, the distance a reindeer can travel without stopping to, um, take a break (about 6 miles). Also, peninkulma, the distance a barking dog can be heard in still air.

    Cows in Ireland remind a remote learner to make math connections across cultures, such as to traditional Irish units of measurement. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

    Farmers once used traditional cow-culations.
    © Joyce McGreevy

  • In Australia, the sydharb is an official unit of measurement, equivalent to 500 gigalitres—the volume of water in Sydney Harbour.
  • Britain: British journalists used Wales (8,194 square miles) to report on everything from an iceberg in Antarctica (“one-quarter the size of Wales”) to a mangrove swamp in India (“half the size of Wales”). Comedians had a Welsh field day with this. One news-parody show reported a fictitious earthquake in Wales that affected “an area the size of Wales,” while a BBC radio show coined the fishy term kilowales—an area 1,000 times the size of Wales.

Every Culture Counts

Feeling down for the count about math? To solve your problem, make math connections across cultures. Italy’s method of lattice multiplication makes navigating numbers as easy as pi.

Students in am ancient college library in Italy remind a remote learner to make math connections across cultures, such as to the Italian lattice method of multiplication. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Many Italian students still use the lattice method first documented in 1478.
© Joyce McGreevy

And as you explore connections across cultures, you’ll also discover how many different and valid ways to accomplish something. For a quick proof, just compare how you count on your fingers to the approach in these cultures: Japanese, Russian. The starting points or gestures may vary, but they all add up to something that works.

As our virtual math field trip concludes, may your interest in math grow exponentially. After all, math intersects with every culture’s daily activities and extraordinary endeavors.

Oh, I see: Math is the sum of diversity plus discovery throughout history. To apply an idealist’s math model, don’t divide by cultural differences—factor in more cultural wisdom. What it adds up to may totally inspire you.

Discover more diversity in how different cultures count: Filipino and German, and Maasai.

See the impact of math on German classical music here and Senegalese fashion design here.

Comment on this post below.

Name That Finger: Digit-al Wordplay

by Meredith Mullins on August 31, 2020

A pentadactyl adventure
© Meredith Mullins

The Cultural Traditions of Finger Names Around the World

The finger has a long history. No, not THAT finger—that one that always seems to come to mind first.

The finger in the broader, pentadactyl sense. The five fingers of the hand.

We humans aren’t the only folks in the world with fingers. Many in the animal kingdom have five-fingered limbs, from monkeys and apes to rats and bats to pandas and birds.

Blue Spaces Cure the Blues

by Joyce McGreevy on August 24, 2020

A blue lake under a blue sky, Elk Lake, Oregon, inspires the author to reflect on personal and cultural beliefs about water, including the blue mind and blue spaces theory. (Image © Rayna Bevando)

Celebrating Earth’s water can inspire us to find the flow in life.
© Rayna Bevando

Personal & Cultural Beliefs About Water

In this high-heat, high-stress summer, how are people finding relief? Emails from friends around the world offer a common response.

  • “. . .the great thing about the island is that you’re almost always in sight of the sea.” —Waiheke, New Zealand
  • “ . . .it’s cold getting in, but your body soon adjusts, and you feel your mood lifting with the waves.”—Cork, Ireland
  • “ . . .in the evenings, we stroll, following the flow of the Arno and stopping at bridges to admire the reflected city.”—Florence, Italy
A woman gazing out over lake reminds the author that blue spaces inspire reflection, personal and cultural beliefs about water, and the cultivation of a blue mind. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

As we look out on blue spaces, we reflect inwardly, too.
© Joyce McGreevy

Our cultural beliefs about water may differ, but our need for blue spaces is both universal and deeply personal. Obviously, water is essential to our survival and that of the planet. As many a marine scientist has pointed out, without blue space, there is no green space. But water also buoys well-being.

This Theory Holds Water

According to the “Blue Mind” theory made famous by U.S. scientist Wallace J. Nichols, spending time near, in, or on bodies of water is a highly effective way to wash away what he calls “Red Mind,” an edgy state “characterized by stress, anxiety, fear, and maybe even a little bit of anger and despair.”

Like when, say, pandemic challenges your physical health, and turbulent world events challenge your mental health. Stuff like that.

A Deep Dive into Water

While the science behind water’s benefits to the brain is recent and ongoing, the history of why human beings celebrate water goes back to ancient cultural beliefs and traditions.

Indian and Chinese philosophers believed that the ideal state of being was exemplified by still water—quiet within and undisturbed on the surface. Lao Tzu advised, “Make your heart like a lake, with a calm, still surface, and great depths of kindness.”

No one said this was easy. Then, as now, daily life was regarded as a flood tide of constant change, what one Roman poet called a “rushing torrent of passing events.” The challenge was not to drown in despair but to learn how to ride the waves.

Ancient Roman and Greek physicians believed that water itself had healing properties for the body. They documented every conceivable kind of Water Cure.

A rivulet reminds the author that almost any blue space can inspire cultural beliefs about water, traditions, and celebrations, and the cultivation of a blue mind. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Even a rivulet can fill the senses.
© Joyce McGreevy

Some ill-conceived water cures almost became cultural traditions, too. In early-1900s America, a fad for drinking radioactive water proved short-lived. (Alas, so did its more ardent practitioners.)

Got Water? Why Every Culture Celebrates It

Some believe our celebration of water goes back to our nine-month voyage in the amniotic cove of our mother’s womb, or farther back still, to our evolutionary emergence from the sea. Scientists are fond of pointing out to us that water not only covers more than 70 percent of Earth’s surface, but also makes up from 45 to 75 percent of our bodies and more than 70 percent of our brains. Even our bones are one-third water.

Two women looking out to sea remind the author that blue spaces can inspire reflection, personal and cultural beliefs about water, and the cultivation of a blue mind. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

We must go down to the sea again . . .
© Joyce McGreevy

Novelist Tom Robbins expressed the playful belief that “Human beings were invented by water as a device for transporting itself from one place to another.” With all this water in our bodies, we humans have certainly carried water everywhere, including from one cultural celebration to another, finding ever more creative ways for it to flow into music, festivals, and language.

For example, long before Handel composed his Water Music suite, one of the world’s oldest musical instruments, the hydraulis, was powered by water.  The popularity of this ancient Greek pipe organ reached its zenith in the 17th century, when Italy’s Tivoli Gardens featured a 20-foot high instrument played by . . . a waterfall!

Waterfalls remind the author that blue spaces can inspire reflection, personal and cultural celebrations and beliefs about water, and the cultivation of a blue mind. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

An orchestra of waterfalls performs arpeggios of water music.
© Joyce McGreevy

Water festivals have flowed through every age and culture, from Tōrō nagashi, the Japanese ceremony of floating paper lanterns down a river, to today’s global celebrations of World Water Day.

In Thailand’s Lo Krathong festival, cares, worries, and bad karma are symbolically floated away on a tiny candle-lit raft, or krathong, courtesy of the closest body of water.

In Armenia, July’s heat sets the scene for Vardavar, or “Rose Day.” According to tradition, people playfully douse any and all passersby with water. For tourists walking under open windows, Vardavar brings whole new meaning to “bucket list” travel.

Water Words

Water also channels through the idioms of different cultures. In English, someone who blurts out a secret is “letting the cat out of the bag, but in Nepali, they’re “letting the water leak.” In English, you might refer to multitasking, but in Indonesian you say, “while diving, drink water.”

Translated into English, the well-known phrase “like water for chocolate” sounds almost soothing. But in its original Spanish—estoy como agua para chocolate—it means your emotions are about to boil over. In the Irish language, the most intoxicating expression involving water is uisce beatha (ISH-kuh BAA-haa), “the water of life”—otherwise known as whiskey. Cheers!

Like a Fish to Water

My personal obsession with water is lifelong. Wherever I’ve lived or traveled, I’ve gravitated toward water —California’s Monterey Bay, Chicago’s Lake Michigan, Istanbul’s Bosporus strait, Galway, Ireland’s River Corrib.

Even now, in the high desert of Oregon, water is my favorite escape from workday deadlines and dire headlines.

The Deschutes River, in Bend, Oregon at evening reminds the author that blue spaces can inspire reflection, personal and cultural beliefs about water, and the cultivation of a blue mind. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Evening walk along the Deschutes River, Bend, Oregon.
© Joyce McGreevy

Calm waters offer respite. When life’s stresses become so layered that we bow under their earthen weight, blue spaces call to us. At such times, says poet Mary Oliver, we need

“to cast aside the weight of facts

and maybe even

to float a little

above this difficult world.”

Bluesday, Waterday . . .

Which is why—with work stacked up and the world pressing down—I declared a personal water festival. My sister, niece, and I—all water signs, naturally—got our feet wet testing a 4,000-year-old cultural tradition that’s now a popular summer diversion.

We went kayaking.

Floats and kayaks at Elk Lake, Oregon figure in the author’s personal celebration of blue spaces and inspire her interest in personal and cultural beliefs about water, including the blue mind theory. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Floats and boats at Elk Lake, Oregon.
© Joyce McGreevy

For a few blissful hours, we paddled the clear waters and lush silence of Elk Lake. Trailing our fingers in the wavelets, we verified Wordsworth’s belief that “a lake carries you into recesses of feelings otherwise impenetrable.”

On a less literary note, I don’t know who said, “Time wasted at the lake is time well spent” but they were right. In a blue space, with a blue mind, I let everything but the present moment drift away on the current, as if on a candle-lit Krathong festival raft.

A rock pool at Elk Lake, Oregon figures in the author’s personal celebration of blue spaces and inspires her to take a closer look at personal and cultural beliefs about water, including the blue mind theory. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Water refracts yet clarifies, spotlighting the beauty of ordinary sand and stone.
© Joyce McGreevy

Now don’t get me wrong. As I returned to the land, I knew that life’s realities would be waiting for me. Not every day can be a water festival. But whenever the tides of life turn choppy, it helps to remember there are harbors.

Whatever our cultural  beliefs about water, we can all benefit from deepening our appreciation of water. Oh, I see: Our celebrations of blue spaces can help us navigate life’s rockier passages—perhaps even with blue minds, and hearts as calm as a lake.

Explore Japan’s cultural tradition of Tōrō nagashi, here.

Follow a dazzling history of Greenlandic kayaking, here.

Comment on the post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

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