Be a Candidate, but Don’t Run for Office

Almost two centuries ago, in 1826, the expression “to run for office” appeared for the first time in American English. As one can grasp, it indicated the sense of a competition between various candidates for an elective position.

In the case of elections, we frequently hear the word vazel (վազել “to run”) in colloquial Armenian. For instance, “s/he runs for the parish council” is something like an geh vazeh yegeghetsvo hokapartzootian («կը վազէ եկեղեցւոյ հոգաբարձութեան համար»). Does this sound right?

No, it does not. The problem is that “run” is a figurative expression that cannot be conveyed with a literal translation. Anyone who does not know English would think that the person in question is physically running to enter the parish council. How many days he or she would run before getting exhausted?

This is one of those many cases when you have to think in Armenian to render the English expression. The best solution is the simplest one: An yegeghetsvo hokapartzootian tegnadzoo eh («Եկեղեցւոյ հոգաբարձութեան թեկնածու է», “S/he’s a candidate to the parish council”).

The candidate may enter office walking or running, but this will not change the outcome. However, if you don’t use vazel in this case, your Armenian proficiency will change a bit.

When an Anniversary is Not a Birthday

2015 is particularly filled with feelings and thoughts inspired by the hundredth anniversary of the Medz Yeghern, the Armenian genocide. On the eve of the symbolic day that commemorates the most catastrophic crime in Armenian history, it is appropriate to revisit the meaning of “anniversary.”

We usually use “anniversary” in English for a date of foundation, a marriage, or a certain event, something that returns yearly (Latin anniversarius, from annus “year” and versus “turning”). The English word has its counterpart in Armenian, daretartz (տարեդարձ), which sounds like a calque: dari (տարի “year”) and tartz (դարձ “turning”).* However, this word is not an exact translation. It has one more and one less meaning than in English.

Indeed, both languages say amoosnootian daretartz (ամուսնութեան տարեդարձ) and “marriage anniversary,” as well as angakhootian daretartz (անկախութեան տարեդարձ) for “anniversary of independence.” However, while the Armenian language uses daretartz to mark the anniversary of the birth of someone who is alive, and hence we say yerchanig daretartz (երջանիկ տարեդարձ) or shunorhavor daretartz (շնորհաւոր տարեդարձ) to greet the person, the English language, as we all know, uses birthday and happy birthday.

There is a difference in birth, as there is a difference in death. It would sound ridiculous to call the 100th anniversary daretartz or “birthday.”  The Armenian language has a special word to commemorate the anniversaries of tragic events. Whether it is the death of millions or a single person, the word in that case is darelits (տարելից). It is another compound word, formed by dari and lits, the root of the verb ltsnel/letsnel (լցնել/լեցնել) “to fill.”

In conclusion, if you want to say “100th anniversary of the genocide,” it is tseghasbanootian haryooramea darelits (ցեղասպանութեան հարիւրամեայ տարելից). However, if you prefer to say “centennial” instead of “100th anniversary,” you can do it with one word: haryoorameag (հարիւրամեակ).

(*) Many compound words are linked by the connective a (ա): dari + a + tartz. In the cases when i and a come together in composition, it is a rule that they turn into e (ի + ա = ե), hence dariatartz becomes daretartz.

A Very Public Word

The Armenian word enthanoor (ընդհանուր) has quite a ubiquitous meaning. It is an adjective that usually means “general,” as it appears in the name of various Armenian organizations. For instance, such is the case of the Armenian General Athletic Union (Hay Marmnagrtagan Enthanoor Miootioon, Հայ Մարմնակրթական Ընդհանուր Միութիւն), usually known by its acronym ՀՄԸՄ (Homenetmen).

Now, we know that the English word general comes from the Latin generalis, meaning “relating to all, of a whole class, generic” (from genus “stock, kind”). The Armenian word enthanoor has a meaning quite close to Latin generalis, and it comes from Classical Armenian or krapar (Yeznik Koghbatsi used it in his Refutation of the Sects). Every Sunday, the faithful join to recite the Credo of the Armenian Apostolic Church, written in Classical Armenian, where it is said: “We also believe in only one, universal, and apostolic holy Church.” Here, the word for “universal” is enthanragan (ընդհանրական).

Now, the word enthanoor is actually a compound of an adverb and an adjective: ent + hanoor (ընդ + հանուր), where ent means “together, under” and hanoor (“all, every”). Literally, it would mean “altogether.” Ent is an adverb that did not enter modern usage, but hanoor has been used at times, and one can find it here and there, for instance in the expression hanoor martgootioone (հանուր մարդկութիւնը “the entire humankind”).

Hanoor, composed by the prefix han, more commonly used as ham (համ), which means “all,” and the familiar adverb oor (ուր “where”), is particularly interesting for its many derivations. For instance, the same as the English public (from the Latin publicus, meaning “of the people; general”), the Armenian language created the noun hanrootioon (հանրութիւն “public”) and the adjective hanrayin (հանրային “public”). Consequently, republic (from Latin res publica “public affair, the state”) became hanrabedootioon (հանրապետութիւն, which literally means “the state of all”).

Another example is omnibus, from the same Latin word that means “for all.” The English word came from the French voiture omnibus (“carriage for all”), which was probably the inspiration for the Armenian version: hanragark (հանրակառք “carriage, vehicle for all”).

In the end, here are a few more usual terms that come from the very prolific hanoor, despite being a word that has fallen from usage in colloquial language:

Hanrakidaran (հանրագիտարան “encyclopedia”)

Hanrahashiv (հանրահաշիւ “algebra”)

Hanrakve (հանրաքուէ “referendum”)

Hanrakoomar (հանրագումար “grand total”)

Oil Doesn’t Come From Oil

You use oil to grease the motor of your car, but also to prepare a salad. In both cases, you should call it yoogh (իւղ) in Armenian. Indeed, yoogh also means “fat,” but this is not strange, since oils are basically liquid fat.

Both oil and yoogh have a distant ancestry. The Armenian word was borrowed from some long-lost Mediterranean language, which was also the source for Greek ἔλαιον (élaion) “olive oil” and ἔλαια (élaia) “olive tree,” and Latin oleum “oil.” Latin became the source for a variety of Latin and Germanic languages, including English oil.  Incidentally, the Armenian word karyoogh (քարիւղ) is a literal translation of Latin petroleum (“stone oil”), the technical term for what we use to fill the tanks of our cars, e.g. “gas.”

Knowledgeable readers are also aware that there is a specialized term in Armenian, tzet (ձէթ), which designates olive oil. It already appeared in the Armenian translation of the Bible, probably borrowed from Syriac zaita. Tzet would become the root of many compound words, such as tzitabdoogh (ձիթապտուղ) “olive,” already present in the fifth century. In the same way, Arabic zait “olive oil” would become the source of Turkish zeytin “olive” much later.

Generally speaking, Armenian names for fruit trees have their origin in the name of the fruit, with the addition of the suffix –eni; for instance, khntzoreni (խնձորենի) “apple tree” or geraseni (կեռասենի) “cherry tree.” Some flower trees share this rule; for example, varteni (վարդենի) “rose tree.” The name of the olive tree is an exception. Its root was not the fruit, but the oil produced by the fruit. Thus, we have tziteni (ձիթենի), which literally means “olive oil tree.”

The names of oils derived from various fruits and plants are composed in the same way as in English; for instance, armavi yoogh (արմաւի իւղ) “palm oil.” However, the word tzet has given birth to a long-standing misuse in colloquial language. Apparently, many Armenian speakers (and dictionary writers, unfortunately) tend to think that tzet means “olive” and use the incorrect word tzitayoogh (ձիթաիւղ) as if it meant “olive oil.” It is funny, because if they gave it a thought, they would realize that they are actually saying... “oil oil.”

Conclusion: if you use olive oil, rely on tzet. For other oils, go to yoogh. Never trust tzitayoogh.

If Something Is Scarce, Then It is Expensive

The name of the toothed cutting tool that we today call saw has evolved over time. It was sawein Middle English and sagu in Old English. The name has a common origin with all Germanic languages, and the common root is Proto-Germanic *sago, a word that meant “a cutting tool” and came from an Indo-European root meaning “to cut.”

This looks very straightforward, and it is interesting to see how the same concept varies from language to language. The word saw in Armenian is sughots (սղոց), a composite term which comes from the root soogh (սուղ) and the suffix –ots (ոց). The origin of soogh, however, is unknown.

What does this root mean? It has nothing to do, in appearance, with cutting. Soogh means “scarce, brief, short.” (The word sughakrutiun (սղագրութիւն, “short-writing”), for instance, is the Armenian term for “shorthand.”) Thus, sughots literally means “that makes small.” When you use a saw, you cut something into pieces and make it smaller than the original.

Everything is good so far. But some readers are probably aware of the word soogh “expensive” and the noun sughootioon (սղութիւն “expensiveness”). This meaning only exists in Western Armenian, including several of its dialects; if Eastern Armenian speakers hear these words, they understand soogh as “scarce” and sughootioon as “scarcity.” For them, “expensive” is tang(թանկ) and “expensiveness” is tangootioon (թանկութիւն). However, it is intriguing that speakers of both branches share the composite adjective tangakeen (թանկագին, “valuable”).

But how come soogh means both “scarce” and expensive”? The explanation is very simple: the economic principle of demand and supply. Something abundant has a cheap value, but if that same item is scarce, then it becomes expensive. Thus, the origin of the meaning “expensive” for the word soogh.

Don’t Sleep Back, Sleep Again!

When you return, you are going back to the place you had been before. However, you are also going again to that same place. Nevertheless, you clearly make a difference between “going back” and “going again,” don’t you? If you forgot something at home, you will say, “I’ll go back home,” but not “I’ll go home again.”

Some speakers tend to make that confusion between “back” and “again” when they speak in Armenian. They use the same word for both cases: yed (ետ).

For instance, in the situation that you forgot something, you will say: Yed doon bidi yertam (Ետ տուն պիտի երթամ, “I’ll go back home”). Why? The reason is that you are making a movement of return, as indicated by the word yed “back” (the root of the word yedev / ետեւ “behind, back”).

When someone wakes you up with a phone call on a Sunday morning, perhaps you will try to go back to sleep. If this is what you want to say, the right thing would be: Yed bidi yertam knanalu (Ետ պիտի երթամ քնանալու “I’ll go back to sleep”). However, it is wrong to say Yed bidi knanam (Ետ պիտի քնանամ). The reason is that it translates “I’ll sleep back.” When you want to say “I’ll sleep again,” the right thing to say is: Noren bidi knanam (Նորէն պիտի քնանամ). The words noren and its synonym tartsyal (դարձեալ) mean “again.”

Unbreakable as a Diamond

Diamond is another of those words that English and Armenian languages share due to some common source. More than two thousand years ago, the Latin word adamantem meant “the hardest metal,” and then it was used to mean our well-known diamond.  Then Old French borrowed from Medieval Latin (diamantem) and turned it into diamant. In the early fourteenth century, the word entered English as diamond.

Actually, the Romans had borrowed the word from Greek: ἀδάμας (adámas "unbreakable," with ἀ meaning “un” and δάμας “conquer, overpower”). The Armenians did the same: the word ադամանդ (adamand; Western Armenian atamant) already appeared in the Bible with the meaning of the precious stone.

Incidentally, the format of the Armenian word is very close to English adamant, whose meaning comes directly from the Greek meaning “unbreakable,” via Latin and French. While the English language created two words from the same original source, the Armenian language simply used atamant and, at times, gave it a metaphoric meaning. For instance, St. Gregory of Narek used the expressions atamantea sird (ադամանդեայ սիրտ “diamond heart”) or atamantea havadk (ադամանդեայ հաւատք “diamond faith”) to mean that the heart or the faith can be as unbreakable as a diamond.