Even members of inter-related tribes were unable to comprehend the repertoire of Bo songs and stories uttered by the woman in her 80s
On the other hand, if it was only during the last few years of her life that no one could "comprehend" her "stories", then perhaps her "language" was nothing more than senile gibberish.
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Like the ramblings of Grandpa Simpson...
...We can't bust heads like we used to, but we have our ways. One trick is to tell 'em stories that don't go anywhere - like the time I caught the ferry over to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for my shoe, so, I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em. Give me five bees for a quarter, you'd say... ...Now where were we? Oh yeah: the important thing was I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn't have white onions because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones...
;-)
“On the other hand, if it was only during the last few years of her life that no one could “comprehend” her “stories”, then perhaps her “language” was nothing more than senile gibberish.”
That occurred to me as well. The great tragedy for these ‘scientists’ is a potential source of obtaining government grant money to go spend a few months on a tropical island.