In the endeavor to compare languages and investigate their roots, no category of linguistic elements has undergone more meticulous examination than the set of lexemes universally present in virtually all human languages [
31,
32,
33]. This specific lexicon comprises the basic numerical units, which serve as the foundation for quantitative expressions in linguistic discourse [
34]. Moreover, exploring the essence of numbers involves the examination of how various species perceive quantities, a common ability that is likely proper not only of humans, as many creatures share at least a basic capacity to differentiate between greater and lesser quantities [
34,
35]. Recently, Núñez [
36] highlighted the fact that the concept of ‘number’ is a product of cultural construction, influenced by, yet separate from, collective perceptions of quantity. Núñez’s argument is, therefore, a decisive point to comprehend the universality and cultural specificity of numeral expressions [
35], with numbering intended not like an innate property of the human mind, but as a cultural phenomenon produced according to an evolutionary process. Previous studies have also documented the universal quantitative perception and culturally specific reckoning method in numeral systems of the Alor–Pantar language family. In this context, for instance, Abui and Sawila appear to follow a strategy that implies a mixture of quinary and decimal [
37] numbering patterns (while the decimal system can foreshadow a notion of ‘universality’—which, ultimately, is not ‘universal’—, the mixed numbering procedures proper of these languages imply a development that is not uncommon, but which is, in this case, specifically local). The cardinal number system in Kula, indeed, consistently exhibits a combination of base-five (quinary) and base-ten (decimal) counting, which is recognizable within the language family. In the quinary numeral system, distinct numeral symbols exist for quantities up to five, and numerical aggregation commences thereafter, according to the basic way of counting on one hand [
38]. As for the decimal system, the terms for all double-digit numerals in Kula reveal the addition and multiplication methods based on the number ‘ten’ as a possible evolutionary development of mathematical skills.
3.1. Ancestral Hand-Reckoning Thought: Cardinal Numbers from 1 to 9 (Quinary System)
In Alor–Pantar languages, according to the speakers, the terms for the numbers from ‘one’ to ‘five’ are typically mono-morphemic words [
10] (p. 299), as shown in
Table 1. Their mono-morphemic nature is not apparent and some terms are, technically, composed of two morphemes. We called them ‘mono-morphemic’ because they are perceived that way by the speakers, who do not de-compose them and treat them as ‘mono-morphemic’ words. This prevalent pattern implies the development of cardinal number abstraction skills (since the related terms have not a direct physical referent or, better, the physical referent itself is no longer perceived by the speakers when they count, nor apparent to them) among the Alor peoples, even though the cognitive process of naming, in this context, appears somewhat unclear.
Indeed, as widely documented [
39,
40], subitizable quantities (up to about ‘three’ or ‘four’) are often associated with common environmental objects (e.g., ‘eyes’ or ‘arms’ for ‘two’) that embody the quantity in question, rather than the fingers. However, this does not seem to be the case with the local
milieu we are analyzing and, therefore, this specific naming process remains relatively obscure.
Hands and feet represent the distinctive five-digit numerical canon and original matrix of human physiology in counting. Therefore, it is possible to hypothesize that the structure of numeral expression in Kula was, initially, organized through finger-counting. Indeed, during our fieldwork interviews, we have been able to validate this assumption with the help of our consultants. According to the Kula speaker, Pak Otniel, the word for the number ‘five’, in Kula, can be glossed as ‘ya-/yawa-’ and ‘-ten/-tena’ (the speakers cannot provide a clear reason for the existence of these allomorphs, not even after consultations with their communities), with the second morphemic part, ‘(-)tena’, being the word ‘hand’ in Kula. When the speakers complete the counting sequence to five with the hands, therefore, they reasonably connect the word for ‘hand’, ‘tena’, with the term for the number ‘five’, ‘yawa-tena’, and, hence, this is the resulting finger-counting method by Kula people. Speakers of languages are usually unaware of grammatical systems conditioning allomorphy in their languages. This issue can be solved through inductive linguistic (grammatical) analysis of the behavior of the forms in context. However, we discussed this with our speakers because one of them is a linguist and the other two have a background in Linguistics. We thought, therefore, that it would have been relevant to already provide the readers with this stage of the results.
Another interesting finding is the fact that the analysis of the naming process of the word for the number ‘five’ in Kula may further support the idea of ancestral finger-counting applied to the related numeral system. Indeed, in the context of finger-reckoning, the thumb on the left hand refers to the number ‘five’ in Kula, which is an aspect analogous to other languages within the Alor–Pantar family. In particular, according to our Abui, Sawila, and Kula consultants, ‘thumb’, in their languages, is ‘tataang heyaa’, ‘tatana ayabuko’, and ‘ateng (krik) g(h)ya’, respectively, and the literal meaning of these expressions is ‘our hand-its mother’, ‘our hand-its mother big’, and ‘our hand (finger) his/her mother’. Hence, the thumbs in their hands are cognitively and lexically related to the notion of ‘mother’, as a possible ‘generative member’ of a family nucleus (metaphorically represented by the fingers—in other words, the ‘thumb’ would figuratively foreshadow the idea of the ‘mother of the other fingers’, as well as the ‘hand’, inherently in the concept of ‘family’). ‘Thumb’ as ‘mother’ is a notion not unknown in the region [
41] (in Kula, a standard term for ‘mother’ is also ‘ŋaya’, but ‘gya’ is the widespread form connected with counting). However, ‘mother’ is a word coined after the morphological form ‘*ya-’ (which is etymologically common to a set of words), in Abui and Sawila, while, in Kula, ‘five’ is ‘ya-/yawa-’. This might indicate a direct link between the two words and notions, but also a connection due to phonetic and phonological similarities and, in that case, the path of the diachronic development of the two lexical items, ‘mother’ and ‘five’, can be considered bi-directional (if the two terms are related, at the current stage of our knowledge, their development could have proceeded from one to another, but we cannot identify the original form). Bearing this phonological similarity in our minds, we might also speculate that the number ‘five’, ‘yawatena’ in Kula, has undergone a process of cognitive enculturation, which would have transformed the non-numerical body-part term, ‘thumb’, into the numeral ‘five’, due to Kula people’s specific tally methods proper of their cultural context [
42]. According to dos Santos [
42], one plausible strategy that could be employed for the creation of number terms involves specifically a process of enculturation. In this context, symbols representing numbers and the conceptualization of numerical values might have originated concurrently through re-semantification, wherein words originally non-numerical underwent a transformation in meaning. This would explain why ‘*ya-’ is so pervasive in this counting system. Additionally, according to Hurford’s [
43] proposal, this change is developed through a gradual lexicalization. Therefore, the act of naming body parts in conjunction with body-part tallies eventually led to the development of numbers and related terminology. Since the possible morphological interpretation of the word for the number ‘five’ in Kula is ‘yawa(-)’ + ‘(-)tena’, which could be glossed as ‘mother’ + ‘hand’, the linguistic structures of ‘five’ and ‘thumb’, in Kula, look presumably related. Therefore, the term for ‘five’, rather than being connected directly with the notion of ‘hand’, would be linguistically associated, also at the morphemic level, with the concept of ‘thumb’, to form the numeral ‘five’ itself. Because of this, in the common perception of Kula people, we would have a direct link between the notion of ‘thumb’ and the numerical indication for ‘five’, which may imply the loss of an immediate awareness of the relationship and/or distinction between the two words semantically. However, the meaning and structure of the terms for the numbers from ‘one’ to ‘four’ are not easily understandable yet, and more comparative work and documentation are needed to ascertain the relationship between ‘thumb’ and ‘five’ in this numbering system. In this sense, extending the investigation to a larger group of speakers with linguistic competence would help in this task, and we hope these first findings and remarks can encourage the development of further studies on this issue.
Going ahead in counting, the numerals ‘six’, ‘seven’, ‘eight’, and ‘nine’ in Kula appear to belong to a base-five counting system too (namely, a quinary system). The linguistic structure of the numbers from ‘six’ to ‘nine’, indeed, is centered around the morphemic unit ‘yawating’, which equals to the Kula number ‘five’, ‘yawatena’ (‘(-)ting’ is, here, a variant of ‘(-)tena’, according to our linguistically trained speakers, and is perceived as such by all our consultants). Therefore, the structures of these numbers, as shown in
Table 2, are as follows:
Any method of finger-counting in world cultures is believed to involve and imply a shared sensorimotor mechanism for the representation and manipulation of numerical data. This mechanism relies on the neurological interplay among regions of the brain responsible for perceiving quantity, recognizing finger positions, and orchestrating motor actions [
44]. A similar conceptual model, established, among others, by Ifrah [
45], suggests that humans, who possess ten fingers, unsurprisingly began counting with their hands and often developed base-ten numeral systems in different cultures and times over centuries and millennia.
However, the linguistic structure of the numerals from ‘five’ to ‘nine’ in Kula reveals a base-five numbering system, which shows that the use of hands for finger-counting may not be determined only by neural factors, but might also be influenced by cultural elements [
44], since the structure of the lexical items for numbers reveals a link to specific numbering strategies (ways to create, implement, and use numbering systems for counting), reflected also in the practice of hand-counting. Therefore, the base-five system appears in this local Papuan context to be closely linked to the culturally specific way of finger-counting methods employed by people from Alor. As for the natural act of representing ultimately abstract numerical notions through physical features, as shown in
Figure 2, Kula people start counting from the little finger on the left hand and, then, move to the ring finger, middle finger, index finger, and, finally, the thumb. Once the tally on one hand is completed, they start from the number ‘six’ with the little finger again, but on the right hand, and, then, they repeat the same procedure. When the ten fingers are all bent, the series of numbers from ‘one’ to ‘ten’ ends (as shown in
Figure 2).
Hands and fingers are, generally, natural material devices in counting for native speakers. This follows a pattern common to many native contexts [
25] and may date back to the origins of number systems and arithmetic, when not only hands and fingers but also tools and domesticated animals could have represented cognitive and material life ‘triggers’ for the development of counting procedures and skills [
24,
26]. These plausible natural elements, at the same time ‘inspiration’ and technical reasons for ancestral numbering systems, might have been configured, over time, as physical representations of new additional numbers (needed for greater quantities). For example, the ideal image of the two hands together and their related names could have started to indicate the number ‘ten’ not as the completion of counting from ‘one’ to ‘ten’, but as the representation of ‘ten’ in itself, as an ‘abstract’ number/name for a number and the starting point of counting above ‘ten’ [
25].
Moreover, in the range of numbers between ‘one’ and ‘ten’, the fingers of the hands typically become involved in representing the first non-subitizable quantities (i.e., ‘five’ and ‘ten’). Once the hands are involved, the possible ‘gap numbers’ (‘four’ and ‘six’ through ‘nine’) are then filled in with the fingers and tend to be named after them [
46]. However, in our case, the speakers tend to a fully ‘linear’ strategy for finger-counting, from ‘one’ to ‘ten’, in a sequence that could possibly represent the evolution of a more ancient (sequential, indeed) counting practice.
Therefore, for those speakers, the act of counting automatically involves the transition from one hand to another and the completion of one hand’s count before commencing with the other. As mentioned above, the numeral system of Kula utilizes ‘mono-morphemic’ words (at least in the speakers’ perception) for the numbers from ‘one’ to ‘five’. For the numbers that follow, instead of introducing a new name for the terms from ‘six’ to ‘nine’, they add ‘units’ to ‘five’ and, therefore, ‘six’ becomes ‘five (plus) one’, ‘seven’ becomes ‘five (plus) two’, and so on, thereby extending the ten-finger counting sequence as a (dual) base-five system.
3.2. Developed Mathematical Thought: Cardinal Numbers above 10 (Decimal System)
The base-ten system in Kula is interpretable through the analysis of the terms for larger numerals starting from ‘eleven’ (as shown in
Table 3). This set shows to have regularized forms and, at the same time, exhibits (to some extent) ‘irregular’ terms, such as ‘resin’ (the ‘regular’ lexical item ‘wal’ is, generally, used by most of the ethnic groups in Alor, with the exception of those from the Eastern territories of the island, i.e., Kula and Sawila), which might be interpreted as potential borrowed words (due to language contact) from Timor–Alor Papuan and Austronesian languages.
For example, in all the following forms, the element ‘resing’ has been tentatively glossed, by the speakers, as ‘[to] gather’—we translated it as ‘plus’, in
Table 3, to reproduce more directly the arithmetic operation of the numbers’ composition. Grammatically, ‘resing’ configures as a verb, according to all the data we collected. However, in current everyday conversation among the locals, the term is no longer used and is only involved in the composition of forms and expressions indicating quantities. Keeping this in mind, we have:
Table 3.
The Kula numbers ‘eleven’, ‘twelve’, ‘twenty-one’, and ‘twenty-three’.
Table 3.
The Kula numbers ‘eleven’, ‘twelve’, ‘twenty-one’, and ‘twenty-three’.
Kula | | |
---|
adayok resing sona | ten (plus) one | eleven |
adayok resing yok | ten (plus) two | twelve |
adayok miyok resing sona | ten (times) two (plus) one | twenty-one |
adayok miyok resing tu | ten (times) two (plus) three | twenty-three |
In this context, it is interesting to note that, in Kula, a phonological similarity exists between the numbers ‘two’ and ‘ten’. In particular, ‘two’ is ‘yok’, while ‘ten’ is ‘adayok’. This would make us think of a development of ‘adayok’ through compounding, which, morphologically, would be quite reasonable. However, ‘ada’ is not ‘eight’ in Kula (indeed, ‘eight’ is ‘yawatena tu’~‘yawating tu’); therefore, the common process of addition and/or multiplication cannot be considered here (‘yawatena tu’ stands for ‘five three’, but is the abstract term that the speakers provide when asked to pronounce the word out of context. In everyday conversation, they use ‘yawating tu’). Moreover, this surmise of the (possible) addition is not consistent with the naming process of the numbers from ‘six’ to ‘nine’, which implies a transparent cognitive pattern of finger-counting. This pattern is linearly sequential, but could have developed from subitizable numbers named after common environmental objects. In this case, as mentioned, the hands would have been used to express ‘five’ and ‘ten’, and the gap numbers would have been filled in on the fingers. Currently, as specified above, nonetheless, the speakers count in sequence, from ‘one’ to ‘ten’, using the numerical terms developed according to the naming process we are describing. Among the communities from Alor, the use and reason of the numeral systems are tightly related to actual natural and concrete elements, like crops or valuable goods to pay a bride price. Therefore, an intricate additive expression like ‘eight and two is ten’ might be linguistically incompatible with the local cultural customs [
47] (p. 257), which would imply simpler analytical processes. Such arithmetic is also highly dependent on the explication of relations among numbers, something that typically involves the use of manipulable forms, like pebbles or tokens [
26].
To better understand this apparent paradox, it is appropriate to apply a selective comparative approach to the analysis of the numeral ‘ten’ in Kula. In particular, in the neighboring language Sawila, from Alor, which shares many cognates with Kula, the term for the number ‘ten’ is ‘adaaku’. This form shows a clear similarity with the corresponding Kula number. If we hypothesize that the Kula form has been produced based on the Sawila numeral, we may think that the apparent Kula compound is not a proper compound in itself, derived from a process of addition, but a sort of reproduction of the original form. In this case, the second part of the compound, ‘(-)yok’, would not be, at the semantic level, the proper numeral ‘two’, but just an effectively sounding morphemic unit suitable to be involved in the composition of a numeral (because it is a numeral in itself, independently of its direct meaning), on the model of the Sawila form. This observation, of course, works only if we think that some numerals in Kula derive, by ‘mimesis’, from their equivalents from Sawila. In this case, the inherent linguistic phenomenon in Kula would be a sort of reanalysis with interesting cognitive implications. Actually, such theoretical postulation needs proof and, after several interviews with our Kula speaker, Pak Otniel, and his subsequent investigation among the community (he thoroughly discussed the issue with a considerable number of Kula people and summarized the related findings) about this interpretation, we have been able to adjust the initial assumption. When asked: “Do you think ‘adayok’ could still be glossed as a compound, and can you make any connection with any expression in Kula about ‘adayok’?”, Pak Otniel answered: “The ending ‘yok’ could stand for the number ‘two’, ‘yok’, and, sometimes, we tell ‘ada yok!’, which means ‘come together with two!’ or indicates something which appears together twice (textual: “comes/brings together with two”)”. According to the data we collected, ‘ada’ is configured as a verb, which can be glossed approximately as ‘put together/bring together’, and is normally used in everyday conversation among the communities. At the level of counting, it is possible, therefore, that “comes together with two” may refer to ‘come with two (hands) or take along two hands’, after the speakers complete their counting with two hands, and thus it is logical to consider the fact that the conceptual configuration of the number ‘ten’ still aligns perfectly with the finger-counting cognition and convention of these native people. This summing-up of ten fingers in counting tradition, as highlighted by Conant [
34], would generate a ‘part–whole’ cognitive process, while producing a new numeral unit, ‘two-hands’ (which would eventually become a new numeral in itself, in and for the formation of numerals above ‘ten’), opening a wider scale for reckoning. To complete the range of theoretical options, it is possible to postulate that Kula borrowed ‘ada’, at some point in time, with a specific (presumably lost) meaning, and then derived the form ‘adayok’ from this process. The form ‘ada’ is not attested in Abui, Sawila, and other languages from Alor (therefore, it could be a borrowed word from an external source). This, however, cannot be proven, and not even diffusely discussed, at the current stage of the research. A phonological similarity can be highlighted between ‘ada’ in Kula and ‘ada’ in Indonesian, but the semantic values and the differences in the use of the terms make this parallel unlikely.
Alor and Pantar, as mentioned, are two islands located at the linguistic and cultural border with Austronesian peoples and areas, in an ideal path going (at least) from Flores to Timor (and, to some extent, in the opposite direction).
Figure 3 provides the readers with an ethnic and linguistic map of Timor. The Alor–Pantar languages do not belong to the Austronesian language family. However, phenomena of language contact and cultural interexchange between them and the neighboring Austronesian contexts have developed since very remote times and have deeply affected the linguistic and ethnic environment of the archipelago.
For this reason, a comparative approach focused on the Austronesian (~Malayo-Polynesian) lexicon is always necessary in studies like ours and we have applied it, for instance, while trying to ascertain the origins of the morpheme ‘ada-’, considering the potential links and contacts between Eastern Alor and neighboring Austronesian areas [
49] (pp. 57–100). Indeed, the reconstructed proto-Austronesian form ‘*adaS’ and the composed (proto-)form ‘*um-adaS’, which indicate the actions of ‘taking, taking along, and bringing’ [
50], might be phonetically, phonologically, morphologically, and semantically compatible with ‘ada-’ in Kula (Austronesian forms developed an additional sound at the end of most terms derived from this root. However, the original etymological stem seems to be ‘*ada-‘, or the consonantal sound could have been lost in the process of borrowing). This interesting similarity, which would imply a phenomenon of contact, nonetheless, cannot be found in the languages from Central and Western Alor (as mentioned, Kula and Sawila represent, in a way, the Easternmost linguistic development of the Alor-Pantar family). For instance, the word for the number ‘ten’ in Abui is ‘karnuku’, and the morpheme ‘ada-’ does not belong, in general, to Central and Western Alor vocabularies.
Additionally, another ‘anomalous’ expression from the Kula numeral system, when compared to languages from Central and Western Alor, may suggest a possible phenomenon of language contact between Eastern Alor and Timor Leste. The linguistic format of the above-listed examples from
Table 2 is developed with a transparent and consistent additive counting method, wherein a marker like ‘resing’ occupies a position between the digit(s) for ten(s) and the digit(s) for a single unit(s) as an indicator of addition. The concept of addition, which is attested in words representing numerals beyond the number ‘ten’, indeed, is a common feature among Alor languages. However, the linguistic form conveying the notion of ‘aggregation’ differs etymologically between Central–Western (e.g., in Abui, the word for ‘eleven’ is ‘karnuku wal nuku’, with ‘wal’ meaning ‘add, gather’) and Eastern Alor (as exemplified by the terms with Kula ‘resing’ and Sawila ‘resin’, each one corresponding in meaning and function to the numerals above ‘ten’ in Abui).
This lexical discrepancy prompted us to thoroughly analyze this pattern within the so-called ‘Timor–Alor–Pantar’ (broad) language family, in order to trace the origins of the term ‘resing’ in Kula, by comparing the relevant lexical item(s) with possible cognates from outside Alor. Indeed, a similar form, ‘resing/resin’, is also attested in numerals from Tetum (Austronesian language) and Makasae (Papuan language) from Timor-Leste. To be more specific, Correia [
51] highlights the presence of the numerical term ‘resi’ in Makasae. This marker is used after the number ‘ten’ and carries the meaning of ‘more than, plus, the rest’, findable also (with little variation) in Kula and Sawila. Possibly, it originated from the Tetum language, specifically from an attested form of ‘resin’. Consequently, it is plausible to think that Kula borrowed ‘resing’ from that linguistic context. It is even possible that Kula took the term directly from Tetum, as opposed to a previously suggested source hypothetically recognized in Tokedede, another Austronesian language from East Timor [
10], compared to Kula in order to resolve this terminological puzzle pertaining to numerals beyond ‘ten’. Independently of that, the numerals in Kula undeniably exhibit a strong correlation with languages from Eastern Timor, for instance, Tokodede and Mambae (another Austronesian language), which share with it the format of their base-five cardinal number systems [
10]. The dynamics of this borrowing process, despite being relatively evident, need to be clarified through consistent documentation, in order to establish the actual relations and connections among languages and also to better define the direction of the linguistic and cultural contacts. Even the direct etymology of ‘resi’/‘resing’/‘resin’ is still unclear and requires further investigation.
A more ‘regular’ set of numerals in Kula is documented starting from the number ‘twenty’ (as shown in
Table 4). ‘Twenty’, in this language, is ‘adayok miyok’, with ‘*mi(-)’ indicating iteration (a sort of ‘multiplication by juxtaposition’) and, in particular, the notion of ‘times’ [
10,
37].
The formation of the number ‘twenty’ and the following tens is centered around the term for ‘ten’, showing the progression of a decimal counting system with the prefix ‘mi-’ added to the single unit(s) digit(s), which is a unique element from the Eastern Alor numbering sets. We have to think, therefore, that, in this case, ‘mi-’ has the value of a marker indicating multiplication (per ten), or the notion of ‘ten/tenth’ in general. This, probably, implies a later development of these numerals, when Kula people started to need bigger quantitative indicators which required a more complex and intellectually advanced method of composition of numerical terms. This is clearly a preliminary finding, which would require final confirmation from more research on Kula morphology and grammar. However, the reconstruction looks reasonable and in line with the counting strategies among these people.
At the level of clarification, it is appropriate to point out that the basic numbering systems (from ‘one’ to ‘ten’) in Kula, Sawila, and Abui and, possibly, also the sets of numbers above ‘ten’ are considered ‘ancient’ by the local speakers, and they are connected, in their beliefs and explanations, with ancestral counting. It is impossible to exclude a priori (because we are developing our analysis in undocumented contexts) that the ‘invention’ (or ‘introduction’) of these numbering systems is relatively recent. We believe in any case that the common perception of the speakers of the origins of their terms for numbers and counting strategies is correct and that they reflect ancient stages of the development of the related languages and basic arithmetic.