International Mother Language Day

International Mother Language Day Poster

As you might know, today is International Mother Language Day. The theme this year is “Linguistic diversity and multilingualism: keystones of sustainability and peace”.

To do my bit for multilinguism, I’m currently learning Swedish, Russian, Romanian and Slovak, and practising other languages, especially French and Welsh. So far today I’ve learnt a bit more Romanian and Russian, listened to some Welsh language radio, and read a bit of Swedish.

Tonight I studied some Swedish and Slovak, spoke English and Laala, read in English, Latin and Scots, and sang in English, Welsh, French, Zulu and Church Slavonic.

What languages have you spoken, read, heard, written, sung and/or studied today?

Playgrounds and yards

Schools in the UK usually have a bit of outside space where the pupils play during break times and at lunch time. This is known, at least in primary schools, as a playground. There are also playgrounds for children in some parks.

In American schools such spaces are known as schoolyards, and the students play in them during recess – is that right? Are other words used for playground?

In the UK you might have a garden at the back of your house, which is referred to as a garden or back garden, or if it’s paved, concreted or covered in decking, you may refer to it as a yard. I understand that in the USA a backyard is the area at the back of your house, whether it’s paved, grass or whatever. Is that right?

In French a school playground is a cour de récréation, and elsewhere it is a terrain de jeu or cour de jeu. A playground for the rich is a lieu de divertissement. Are other words used?

What about in other languages?

Different ways of knowing

In English you could say that you know a person, a place, a language or a fact. You could also talking about knowing about things, knowing of people, knowing how to do things, knowing hardship, knowing what’s what, knowing the ropes, and so on.

In Welsh to say you know a person or place you use adnabod or nabod. For exmple Dw i’n ei nabod nhw yn dda (I know them well), Wyt ti’n nabod Caerdydd? (Do you know Cardiff?).

When talking about knowing a fact you use gwybod. For example, Mae hi’n gwybod popeth (She knows everything), Dan ni’n gwybod tipyn bach am weu (We know a little about knitting).

In some cases you can use nabod and gwybod to show how well you know something. If you say Dw i’n nabod y gân ‘ma (I know this song), you mean that you are familiar with it, but can’t necessarily sing it. If you say Dw i’n gwybod y gân ‘ma it means you it well.

There are quite a few ways to say ‘I don’t know’ in Welsh: Dydw i ddim yn gwybod, Dw i ddim yn gwybod, Dwi’m gwybod, Sa i’n gwybod, Wn i ddim, ‘Dwn i ddim, and apparently in Bala they saw Wmbo.

To know how to do something is also medru, e.g. Mae o’n medru darllen (He can/knows how to read), and to not know how to do something is methu, e.g Dw i’n methu siarad Basceg eto (I can’t / don’t know how to speak Basque yet), at least in North Wales. In South Wales they say Mae e’n gallu darllen and Dw i ddim gallu siarad Basceg eto.

Irish equivalents of the above Welsh examples are:

– Tá aithne maith agam acu = I know them well
– An bhfuil tú eolach ar Chaerdydd? = Do you know Cardiff?
– Tá a fhios aici gach rud = She knows everything
– Tá beagán eolas againn faoi chniotáil = We know a little about knitting
– Tá a fhios agam an t-amhrán seo = I know (of) this song
– Tá an amhráin seo ar eolas agam = I know this song (well)
– Níl a fhios agam = I don’t know
– Is féidir leis léamh = He can read
– Níl Bascais agam go fóill / Níl mé abalta Bascais a labhairt go fóill / Ní féídir liom Bascais a labhairt go fóill = I don’t / can’t speak Basque yet

The other Celtic languages have various ways to express knowing, as do quite a few other languages, such as French, Spanish, German, etc.

Incidentally, when asked which languages you ‘know’? How do you answer? At what level would you say that you ‘know’ a language?

Sources: Geiriadur Yr Academi, WordReference.com, Reverso, fócloir.ie

Corrections are always welcome if I’ve made any mistakes.

Bags, satchels and briefcases

In Romanian the word for a satchel, school bag or briefcase is ghiozdan [giˈozdan]. When I learnt this, I wondered where it might come from – it certainly doesn’t look Latin or Slavic.

Ghiozdan actually comes from the Turkish word cüzdăn (wallet, billfold, purse, pocket book).

A related word is servietă (briefcase), which comes from the French serviette (towel, napkin, serviette, briefcase).

There are in fact quite a few Romanian words borrowed from Turkish, including:

– bacșiș = tip, gratuity; baksheesh. From bahşiş (tip)
– basma = handkerchief. From the Turkish basma (printed cloth)
– degeaba = for nothing, for free; in vain. From the Turkish caba (effort)
– liliac = lilac; bat. From the Turkish leylak (lilac)
– murdar = dirty. From the Turkish murdar (uncleanly)

Sources: Wiktionary, Google Translate

Lend me a word

English is a bit of a mongrel. It is basically a West Germanic language, but contains words from many other languages, especially French, Latin, Greek and Old Norse. In fact, only about 26% of English vocabulary is Germanic, 29% is from French, 29% from Latin, 6% from Greek, and the rest from many other languages [source].

When English borrows words from other languages, which it does all the time, most people see the process as a positive one that expands and enriches English vocabulary.

There will always be some who object to the adoption of certain words, however, within a few generations, or even a few years, those words can become fully integrated in the language, and people might not even be aware they were borrowed in the first place.

Japanese is also open and accepting of foreign words, mainly from Chinese and English. These loan words are changed to fit Japanese phonetics, and some are shortened and combined to make original new words, such as リモコン (rimokon) = remote control, and オープンカー (ōpun-kā) = convertible car.

Borrowing between languages is common around the world where languages come into contact. The borrowing often flows from large languages, like English or Spanish, into smaller languages, such as regional, minority and endangered languages.

When smaller languages borrow from bigger languages, some believe the smaller languages suffer in the process, becoming corrupted, impoverished, polluted, etc. Such sentiments are much less common when talking about borrowing from smaller languages into bigger languages.

There seems to be a double standard here.

Borrowing will happen, even though language regulators, such as the Académie française, might object and try to stop it. Languages change and influence one another. They can borrow many words from other languages without losing their identity, and without breaking down into incomprehensible grunts.

What do you think?

Do languages benefit from borrowing?

Baliffs, Catchpoles and Tipstaves

Yesterday I learnt an interesting French word – huissier [ɥi.sje], which means baliff, usher, process server, catchpole or tipstaff.

It is an abbreviation of huissier de justice, an officer of the court who serves process and notices, seizes and auctions off property, and executes garnishments, levies, and evictions.

It comes from the Vulgar Latin *ustiārius, from ostiārius (porter, doorman), from ostium (door, entrance, estuary).

Related terms include:

  • huissier d’armes = sergeant at arms
  • exploit d’huissier = writ
  • constat d’huissier = bailiff’s report
  • huissier audiencier = court usher
  • envoyer l’huissier = to send in the bailiffs

You may be wondering, what’s a catchpole or tipstaff? I certainly am. I know a family called Catchpole, but don’t know what the word means.

Catchpole is an obsolete word for “A taxman, one who gathers taxes; A sheriff’s officer, usually one who arrests debtors.” It comes from the Old French chacepol (one who chases fowls).

Tipstaff is “A ceremonial staff, with a metal tip, carried by a constable or bailiff etc as a sign of office; An officer, of a court etc. who carries such a staff.”

Sources: Reverso, Wiktionary

Les mots de la semaine

français English Cymraeg
le radeau raft rafft
flotter sur un radeau to raft rafftio
la tortue (de mer) (sea) turtle crwban y môr; môr-grwban
huissier; agent de poursuite bailiff beili
le porche porch porth; cyntedd; portsh
le comprimé; le cachet pill pilsen; pelen
le dessert dessert melysfwyd; danteithfwyd; pwdin
le désert desert anial; diffaith; anghyfannedd
parfumé; plaisant; agréable fragrant persawr; pêr; perarolgus; melys
la chambre d’enfants; la crèche; la garderie nursery meithrinfal; magwrfa; cylch meithrin

Bittersweet

Chutney

When looking for the French word for chutney last night we discovered the word aigre (sour), and realised that vinegar, or vinaigre in French, must be wine (vin) that is sour (aigre). This is indeed the origin of vinegar and vinaigre.

Vin (wine) comes from the Latin vīnum (wine, grapes, grapevine), from Proto-Italic *wīnom (wine), from Proto-Indo-European *wóyh₁nom (wine).

Aigre (sour, sharp, acid, shrill) comes from the Old French, from Vulgar Latin *acrus / *acrum, from the Classical Latin acer / acrem (sharp, sour, bitter), from Proto-Italic *akris (sharp, sour), from Proto-Indo-European *h₂ḱrós (sharp).

Chutney is a sauce made from fruit and/or vegetables preserved with vinegar and sugar. The word comes from the Hindi चटनी (catnī / chatnee – to lick). In French it is chutney, épice or salade piquante, and is defined as “condiment aigre-doux” (bittersweet condiment), which is where I found the word aigre.

Sitting in a session

If someone said to you, “It was a good session last night”, what would you understand by that?

In my world a session involves people gathering together, usually in a pub, to play folk music, sing, and sometimes to dance and/or tell stories.

Other kinds of sessions are available: jam sessions, parliamentary sessions, training sessions, drinking sessions, recording sessions, and so on.

The word session comes from the Old French session (sitting; session [of a court or committee]), from the Latin sessiō (a sitting), from sedeō (sit), from the Proto-Italic *sedēō (sit, be sitting, be seated), from the Proto-Indo-European *sed- (to sit), which is also the root of the English word saddle [source].

I go to several folk music sessions a week, and usually play the mandolin, and occasionally the whistle, bodhrán or cavaquinho. I also go to a ukulele session. In some sessions we play Irish or Welsh music, in others we play music and sing songs from many countries. We also play tunes we have written ourselves, including some of my own tunes.

I’ve learnt many tunes from these sessions. Some I can pick up by ear after hearing them a few times, others I record and learn at home. I find it easier to learn a tune if I’ve heard it many times, though some are harder to learn than others as they are in unusual keys, and/or don’t go where you expect.

Similarly, when learning new words in foreign tongues, the ones that are easiest to learn are the ones that sound familar. Maybe I’ve heard them many times, and/or they’re similar to words I already know. Words that contain unfamiliar sounds and combinations of sounds take more learning, just as tunes in unfamiliar keys and/or containing unusual combinations of notes can take longer to learn.

Sometimes the versions of tunes I know are a bit different to the ones known by my fellow musicians. This is a bit like hearing a language spoken with a different accent, or in a different dialect – it may seem strange at first, but you get used to it the more you hear it.

Last night I went to a Welsh music session in the Globe Inn (Tafarn y Glôb) in Bangor. Here’s one of the tunes that was played (Y Derwydd – The Druid):