Pexels/ArtHouse StudioLanguages shape how we see the world. The words we have, and those we don’t, can influence what we notice, how we feel, and even how we think. English, for all its flexibility and global reach, is missing a vast number of words and concepts that exist in indigenous languages around the world. These aren’t just odd phrases or poetic flourishes. They’re ideas so culturally specific or subtly nuanced that English doesn’t quite have the vocabulary to match. Here are some fascinating concepts from indigenous languages, both ancient and modern, that reveal ways of thinking and feeling that English can’t fully capture.
1. Tjukurpa (Pitjantjatjara, Australia)
In many Aboriginal Australian languages, including Pitjantjatjara, “Tjukurpa” is often translated as “Dreamtime,” but that’s a simplification. It refers to a complex set of spiritual beliefs, laws, moral codes, and ancestral narratives that define the connection between people, land, and time.
Tjukurpa is about how the world was created and how it should be lived in. It’s not just mythology; it’s law, history, spirituality, and ethics all rolled into one. There’s no English equivalent that captures its layered significance, or the sense of an ongoing, ever-present connection to ancestors and place.
2. Kaitiakitanga (Māori, New Zealand)
This Māori concept is often translated as “guardianship,” but again, that barely scratches the surface. Kaitiakitanga describes a deeply spiritual responsibility to care for the environment. It’s not about ownership; it’s about stewardship, reciprocity, and intergenerational care.
Kaitiakitanga blends ecological awareness with ancestral duty. You’re not just looking after the land. You’re continuing a sacred role passed down from your ancestors, on behalf of future generations. English struggles to express that seamless mix of moral obligation, environmental ethics, and spiritual duty.
3. Xóõ click language distinctions (Taa, Botswana/Namibia)
Xóõ (spoken by the Taa people) isn’t just notable for its clicks—it’s one of the most phonemically complex languages in the world, with over 100 consonants and nearly 30 vowels. Its sound system allows incredibly precise distinctions between concepts.
While not a single word or concept, the language itself contains meanings and nuances that English speakers simply can’t replicate. It demonstrates how the structure of a language can offer expressive possibilities that are literally unpronounceable in English.
4. Mamihlapinatapai (Yaghan, Tierra del Fuego)
Often cited as one of the most difficult words to translate, “mamihlapinatapai” refers to a shared look between two people, both wanting to do something, but neither wanting to be the one to start. It’s about hesitation, mutual understanding, and silent connection.
Yaghan is nearly extinct, but this one word captures an emotional state that takes a full sentence or more to explain in English. It’s proof that some cultures encapsulate complex feelings in ways English can’t match with a single phrase.
5. Kapwa (Tagalog, Philippines)
Kapwa is usually translated as “fellow human,” but the original meaning is much deeper. It implies a shared identity and interconnected self. Your well-being is tied to the well-being of those around you; your boundaries are fluid, not fixed. Kapwa challenges the Western notion of the isolated, individual self. In Tagalog thought, you exist as part of a collective, and compassion, empathy, and mutual obligation are embedded into the language of identity.
6. Inuit words for snow (Inuktitut, Canada/Greenland)
The claim that Inuit people have dozens of words for snow isn’t just a linguistic curiosity. It reflects a reality shaped by environment. Words like “qanuk” (a snowflake), “aput” (snow on the ground), and “piqsirpoq” (drifting snow) exist because they need to.
English doesn’t have these distinctions because it hasn’t had to. In Inuktitut, the environment and survival are reflected in precise vocabulary. It’s a reminder that language evolves in tandem with lifestyle, and that some ways of seeing the world remain unspoken in English.
7. Ubuntu (Nguni Bantu languages, Southern Africa)
Ubuntu is often loosely translated as “I am because we are,” but that doesn’t fully convey its weight. It expresses a philosophy of shared humanity, where the self only exists through others. It’s about compassion, dignity, community, and belonging.
In cultures shaped by Ubuntu, morality isn’t about individual achievement but collective harmony. You don’t act solely for yourself—you act in ways that benefit the whole. There’s no single English word that encapsulates this ethic of interconnected existence.
8. Yuanfen (Mandarin Chinese, with roots in classical texts)
Yuanfen combines fate, serendipity, and relational chemistry into one idea. It describes the seemingly predestined force that brings two people together, whether in love, friendship, or something else. It’s not just about timing—it’s about a sense of meaningful connection that feels cosmically significant.
While not technically from an indigenous group, it emerges from an ancient worldview embedded in Chinese philosophy and Confucianism. English tends to separate ideas like coincidence, fate, and compatibility—but Yuanfen holds them all in one.
9. Minga (Quechua, Andes region)
Minga is a term that represents communal labour for the collective good. In Quechua communities, it means coming together to build, farm, or maintain something—not for personal gain, but for the benefit of all.
It’s not quite volunteering, and it’s not a chore. It’s a social event, a duty, and a celebration rolled into one. English doesn’t quite offer a word for cooperative work that’s joyful, expected, and unpaid, but also essential to community life.
10. Dadirri (Ngangikurungkurr, Northern Australia)
Dadirri refers to a deep, inner listening and reflective awareness. It’s about sitting in stillness and paying attention—not just to words, but to nature, silence, and what’s not being said. It’s mindfulness with a cultural and spiritual backbone.
This practice underpins much of Aboriginal philosophy and relationship to country. It’s not a meditation technique. It’s a way of being that emphasises patience, respect, and connection. English, with its action-oriented bias, struggles to convey this quiet, receptive mode of engagement.
Language isn’t just a tool—it’s a mirror of culture.
Indigenous languages hold concepts that reflect entirely different ways of being, seeing, and relating. These ideas challenge us to consider what English can’t say, and what we might be missing because of it. In a world increasingly shaped by global English, preserving and learning from these languages isn’t just about words. It’s about keeping alive whole philosophies, values, and visions of the world that can’t be found anywhere else.
