Obscenities

This brief is for Western audience only. An Eastern would not comprehend what all the fuss was about. Nothing to see here, move on.
         We in the Balkans are among the top global place-getters for what here in the Tropics is termed obscenity. Or at least we consider ourselves of that rank. Australians are in the league somewhere too, but junior grade and certainly not vying for gold.
        The vagina (polite form) of your mother; I f*** your mother/father/sister/goat/god/ saint front/behind; Suck on this &etc. &etc.
         Poles and Russians are reputed high class. 
         Eventually one discovered the Chinese shared a great deal of precisely the same phrasing and vocabulary. (For years Chinese friends in Melbourne, housemates and others, had refused to utter the words, even in aid of philologic enquiry.) 
         In the case of Indians and Malays one had one's doubts; the latter in particular seemed to refrain entirely. Rather difficult to conceive for one so steeped. Of course class was always and everywhere a factor, naturally: the civilizing mission.
         Inevitably after a number of long, open and extensive conversations this young woman in question here needed to be backgrounded. We in the Balkans let fly; are hardly alive if we don't; vigourous, excitable people. Australia not dissimilar &etc.
         A relevant tale was the rapido forced adoption of English in the schoolyard when a boy from a migrant family was utterly bereft. The vulgarities conferred a cachet better than anything else and one certainly needed to comprehend what one was receiving; how and what to return &etc. Then shortly after in the street at a more refined household a young friend's mother had debarred entry because of her son's playmate's foul mouth. (The echoing street that was our playground betraying when one had no idea.)
         Slow learning of fit and proper occasion, tailoring and restraint.
         At one point in one of our latter conversations the young woman concerned here needed apology and some kind of explanation. Then two or three weeks afterward an illustration unfolding of the gulf between the habits and breeding (to use a term which has fallen into disuse on our side).
         Among our common themes in conversation were race, colour, history, culture, colonialism from either perspective. The correspondences in the life journey were many.
         One thing and many others, many, many, brought us to a particular usage that the young woman could not bring herself to articulate, to sound aloud. Impossible to befoul her mouth. (In another obsolete phrase our side.)
         Term of abuse: Word starting with C. Go....
         The first that naturally came to mind had not up until that point issued from the foul Balkan mouth in these exchanges. That particular stick of dynamite was a step too far. (The C-word with most men here, certainly with any woman was certainly, most definitely out of bounds.)
         However the young woman had quickly assumed the first option and ruled it from contention.
         — No, not the other C-word.
         ....Well, this was now a puzzle. For this chap a task set, never mind his literary bent. Crosswords, word plays and scrabbles not this man’s forte by any means.
         Four letters like the other. Race, colour; perhaps in the British context she had said, and possibly of an earlier period.
         The old Hindi song filtering through from the kitchen of the restaurant for thinking time....
         In the end—as it turned out not especially prolonged—the penny did drop. 
         Good thing it did too because the girl was not going to deliver. Likely she would not produce it in written form either.
         Oh. Ah! The single vowel, repeated. Ends with N?... Ooooh.
         As any Australian would tell you, not one that traveled down to the great Southern land. We had plentiful others there.
         The young woman had been to London, where there was some currency. 
         Had it been used in Singapore? back in the day? Wasn't it American? Did the U.S. troops on Rec. Leave here introduce?... But those troops were largely black to begin with.
         Questions of etymology. The other is the point here.
         Plenty of Balkan ladies swore like the proverbial troopers; then there were the gypsies, inventive and brilliant grandmasters of the art. Small children rocked on daddy knees were tutored. (What’s Mummy got? Where do we send her? (Get you to your mother's ——.)
         There were few here in fact with whom one could let fly unrestrainedly. One thing to look forward to back in Oz, not to mention the rocky heights on the other continent.