Build Long and Prosper

The root շէն (shen) is a very productive one. If we have to believe tradition, it goes to the beginnings of the Armenian people. According to Movses Khorenatsi, the Father of Armenian history (fifth century A.D.), when Patriarch Haig left Babylon and settled in the Armenian plateau, he first founded a township called Հայկաշէն (Haigashen), meaning “built by Haig.” Here, shen is the root of the verb շինել (sheenel “to build”). It was also used with the meaning of “dwelling place.”

These two examples already show the ways shen may come up:

a) Unchanged, when it is the plural of Classical Armenian (շէնք – shenk “building”) or the second word in a compound word (Haig + a + shen );

b) Changed into շին (sheen) when the phonetic rule applies (է becomes ի) in the case of a compound or a derivative word, e.g. շինել (sheenel) – շինութիւն (sheenootyoon “construction”) - շինարար ( sheenarar “builder”).

This root has a second meaning: “prosperity.” For instance, you may have heard the expression Շէն մնաք (Shen munak). Of course, this does not mean “Remain built” (or… “You must stay,” according to Google Translate), because the word shen is only used with the meaning of “building” in a compound word. It is actually a blessing: “May you be prosperous” (“May you prosper”). The same meaning appears in the phrase Աստուած շէն պահէ ձեր տունը (Asdvadz shen bahe tser doonu), which we may translate as “May God keep your house prosperous.”

The difference between the two meanings “to build” and “to prosper” is marked by the application or not of the phonetic rule e > i . If you apply it, the root of the word means “to build” (շինել - sheenel); if you do not, it means “to prosper” (շէննալ – shennal).

At a colloquial level, it is interesting to note that many current speakers of Armenian tend to make a mistake that can even be labeled as funny. When they are talking about a construction, instead of saying շինութիւն (sheenootyoon), they tend to say շնութիւն (shunootyoon) . Besides forgetting the abovementioned phonetic rule, they also forget that shunootyoon does not come from shen, but from… shoon (“dog”). Before becoming all the rage, dogs were not very well regarded in language, whether in English or in Armenian. As a result, those wrongly using shunootyoon perhaps are labeling a construction as a doghouse (the first meaning of shunootyoon is “a dog thing”) or, even worse, as a place of adultery (the associative meaning of shunootyoon is “adultery”; the translation of the eighth commandment, “Thou shalt not commit adultery,” is Մի՛ շնանար /Mi shunanar).

The final advice would be: check how you use the language. Meanwhile, to paraphrase the Vulcan farewell greeting in Star Trek, “Build long and prosper.”

The “No” Came First

When you ask for something, a negative answer is always likely, but a positive answer does not fall out of the realm of possibility.

 

The “no” came first, at least in Armenian, where the word ոչ (voch) is original to the language, while այո (ayo “yes”) does not have a recognized explanation, even though it appeared as early as the Armenian translation of the Bible (fifth century A.D.).

 

The compound word voch (literally “no one, none”) is formed by the negative particle ո (vo) and the sign of indefinite, չ (ch ). The combination of ոչ (voch “no”) and ինչ (eench “thing”) yielded the word ոչինչ (vocheench “nothing”). Voch later transformed into the other negative word, չէ (che), formed by the sum of չ (ch ) and է (“to be”).

 

The Armenian ayo sounds very close to aye in English (“Aye, captain”) or even to yes, but actually, according to the great linguist Hrachia Ajarian, it is an onomatopoetic word, unrelated to its English, German (ja ) or French (oui) counterparts . The word “yes” did not even exist in Greek or Latin. Actually, it was absent from the mother language, and thus, there is not a common word for the family of Indo-European languages.

 

Most strikingly, ayo had fallen from usage by the twelfth century, when it was replaced by its equivalent հա (ha). The Armenian jurist Mekhitar Gosh, the author of the first codification of Armenian laws, Tadasdanakirk (“Legal Corpus”), was even forced to explain that ayo meant ha to make it understandable to his readers.  

 

The word ha entered Armenian dialects, where (for instance in Van) it was pronounced խա (kha) –the dialect aspired the h like a kh (hats “bread” > khats)--and became abbreviated into խ (kh). So, when they asked a Vanetsi, “Are you OK?,” he answered, “Kh.”

 

In modern times, ayo made a comeback. Today we normally use it as “yes,” while ha has become a colloquial way to answer affirmatively (like the English “yeah”), but not very well regarded when it comes to polite use. However, when you answer negatively, you can say either voch or che, and both will work equally well.

 

In the end, it is always harder to say “yes” to anything, isn’t it?

 

Charts and Cards, and Their Common Origins

In the old days, when you went to some unknown place, you produced a map of the area. Usually, you called it “map,” and not “chart,” although both words are synonyms. But until today you talk of the “uncharted waters” or the “uncharted country.”

Chart was derived from Middle French charte (“map, card”), whose origin is actually Late Latin ( charta “paper, card, map”). Late Latin charta (“leaf of paper, tablet”) was also the origin for Middle French carte and English card.

Both words in English have their similar terms in Armenian. The word քարտէս (kardes), with the alternative spelling քարտէզ (kardez )—although the first form is more usual—came from the Greek khartes (“layer of papyrus, writing, letter, decree”), which was the actual source for the Latin term. It is supposed that, because of the papyrus connection, khartes actually originated in the Egyptian language.

The same word kardez was used in medieval times with the meaning of “letter,” as its Greek source. Interestingly, it also developed an original meaning during the Armenian kingdom of Cilicia: “money.” It was the name for certain bronze coins.

The suffix –es or –ez was dropped in the Armenian word քարտ (kard), which is used today either alone, with the meanings of “play card” or “visiting card,” or in the compound words այցեքարտ (aytsekard) and խաղաքարտ (khaghakard), with the same meanings. Of course, it is also used in other words, like the now almost defunct “card catalogue” (քարտարան/kardaran ).

Incidentally, the word kard with the meaning “play card” may be replaced by the synonym թուղթ (tught) or խաղաթուղթ (khaghatooght), while we may also use տոմս (doms) or այցետոմս (aytsedoms) to say “visiting card.”

Federation and Democracy Have Many Names

When politics and words cross paths, one of them is bound to cede. This is what happened with the words “federation” and “democracy” in Armenian. 

 

In 1890 all Armenian revolutionary groups, including the newly founded Social Democrat Hunchakian Party (1887), came together to form the Federation of Armenian Revolutionaries (Հայ Յեղափոխականների Դաշնակցութիւն / Hay Heghapokhaganneri Tashnagtsootioon). However, when the alliance with the Hunchakian Party fell apart, the new political party changed its name into Armenian Revolutionary Federation (Հայ Յեղափոխական Դաշնակցութիւն / Hay Heghapokhagan Tashnagtsootioon).

 

In 1908, after the coup d’état of the Young Turks, a party of conservative leanings was founded in Constantinople, the Armenian Constitutional Democratic Party (Հայ Սահմանադիր Ռամկավար Կուսակցութիւն / Hay Sahmanatir Ramgavar Goosagtsootioon). This party would last until 1921. There was a short-lived National Democratic Party (Ազգային Ռամկավար Կուսակցութիւն – Azkayin Ramgavar Goosagtsootioon) founded in 1919, and then, in 1921, the Constitutional Democratic party joined other parties into the creation of the Democratic Liberal Party (Ռամկավար Ազատական Կուսակցութիւն / Ramgavar Azadagan Goosagtsootioon).

 

As anyone familiar with Armenian issues knows, both the Armenian Revolutionary Federation and the Democratic Liberal Party exist today. The former is known in brief as Tashnagtsootioon (Դաշնակցութիւն) “Federation,” and the latter, as Ramgavarner (Ռամկավարներ), namely, “Democrats.”

 

The word դաշնակից (tashnagits) is composed by the terms դաշն (tashn, “harmonious”) and կից   (gits) , root of the verb կցել (gtsel “to join”), which yield the basic meaning for “ally” (the Allied side in both world wars was called tashnagits in Armenian). Then, tashnagtsootioon could be used with both meanings “alliance” and “federation,” although the name of the party adopted the latter one.

Interestingly, the members of the party were designated with the adjective դաշնակցական (tashnagtsagan ), literally meaning “federal” or “federative.” Over time, this adjective was reserved to that exclusive use, and whenever the word “federal” or “federative” comes, the adjective դաշնակցային (tashnagtsayin) is used. A more extreme case happened in Eastern Armenian after the disintegration of the Soviet Union: the Russian loanword ֆեդերացիա (federatsia) “federation” was dropped from use. However, it was not replaced by the Armenian term tashnagtsootioon, but by a newly created word, դաշնութիւն (tashnootioon) , and the adjective “federal/federative” became դաշնային (tashnayin) Thus, the name of the Russian Federation was turned from Ռուսական Ֆեդերացիա ( Roosagan Federatsia) into Ռուսական Դաշնութիւն (Roosagan Tashnootioon), and, for good or worse, it entered Western Armenian usage (where it was Roosagan Tashnagtsutioon before). The expression “federal government” became դաշնային կառավարութիւն (tashnayin garavarootioon). 

 

However, it is intriguing that the Football Federation of Armenia was called Հայաստանի Ֆուտբոլի Ֆեդերացիա (Hayastani Footboli Federatsia), and for some reason the word tashnootioon was left aside.

 

In the case of ramgavar, we also deal with a literal translation derived from the Greek roots demos (“common people”) and kratia (“rule”). However, over time, the word and its derivation ռամկավարութիւն ( ramgavarootioon ) “democracy” were reserved for its exclusive use for anything related to the party. Today the word “democratic” (and the related “democrat”) has become another literal translation from the same Greek roots: ժողովրդավար (zhoghovurtavar ), from ժողովուրդ (zhoghovoort “people”) and վար (var “rule”). There are two exceptions to this rule, again to avoid confusion:

a)     The Hunchakian Party continues using the original foreign words in its name, Սոցիալ Դեմոկրատ ( Sotsial Demokrat “Social Democrat”);

b)     The name of the Democratic Party of the United States—and sometimes its namesakes in other countries—is translated as Դեմոկրատ ( Demokrat “Democrat”) into Armenian, where it is not an epithet as in English.

 

As a funny anecdote, it is worthy to mention the case of the Transcaucasian Democratic Federative Republic, which joined Armenians, Georgians, and Tatars (the future Azerbaijanis) from April-May 1918, right before the independence of the first Republic of Armenia. In his famous book on the history of the latter, Simon Vratzian (1882-1969), its last prime minister, translated the name of that short-lived Transcaucasian republic as Անդրկովկասի Ռամկավար Դաշնակցական Հանրապետութիւն (Anturgovgasi Ramgavar Tashnagtsagan Hanrabedootioon). Someone who read those words and did not know their meaning might think that it was a republic founded by Ramgavars and Tashnagtsagans…

Maundy Thursday and the Eclipse

If there is no light in the room, you say «Մութ է» ( Moot eh ) to mean “It is dark.” However, if you wanted to be less colloquial and a little more literary, you might use the word խաւար ( khavar ), which means both “darkness” and “dark.” If you wanted to translate “In the Darkness,” you could either say «Մութին մէջ» ( Mootin mech ) or «Խաւարին մէջ» (Khavarin mech ).

The word khavar, already recorded in the fifth century A.D., probably comes from an Iranian source (for instance, we have Middle Persian xvarvaran and Farsi xavar ), meaning “west.” The West is where the sun goes down (Armenian արեւմուտք/arevmoodk ) ; therefore, the idea of “west” would normally be associated with darkness.

The word khavar may remind you of one of the highlights of the Holy Week, as celebrated by the Armenian Apostolic Church: the Խաւարում ( Khavaroom ). During this ceremony, held on Maundy Thursday, the twelve candles lighted in the church are put out one after the other, symbolizing the abandonment of Jesus by the twelve Apostles—including the black candle representing Judas—after the Last Supper and his prayer at the garden of Gethsemane. The church remains in the dark, while the poignant hymn Where Are Thou, My Mother? ( Ո՞ւր ես, մայր իմ / Oor es, mayr eem ) is sung. The action of darkening is called խաւարել ( khavaril ), but there is not an exact term in English to translate khavaroom, and thus the Latin translation tenebrae is used.

There is another khavaroom that became fashionable this week, after the total eclipse of the sun recorded on Tuesday, August 22, 2017. Khavaroom is the Armenian word for “eclipse” (from Greek ekleipsis “fail to appear”), and, as we may notice, whoever created the Armenian equivalent did not care about a literal translation, but applied the concept of darkening also used in the Holy Week.

To end this small note on astronomy, let us remember that, if it is a solar eclipse like this one, we call it արեւի խաւարում (arevi khavaroom ), while the moon eclipse becomes a լուսնի խաւարում ( loosnee khavaroom ).

 

Get your vocabulary ready for the next total solar eclipse in seven years!

Come and Feel

The Armenian verb գալ (kal “to come”) is a word as dynamic as its English counterpart. One of the main dictionaries of the Armenian language, Eduard Aghayan’s Explanatory Dictionary of Modern Armenian (Արդի հայերէնի բացատրական բառարան, Yerevan, 1976), offers 33 entries for this word.

You have, of course, a gallery of compound words derived from kal, of which we are going to give two examples:

պարագայ (baraka “circumstance, case”), composed by պար (bar “around”) and գայ (ka, from kal), with the connective ա (a).

ապագայ (abaka “future”), which means “what comes after” (ապա/aba “after, later” and ka).

Moreover, because kal is an irregular verb, you have several words unrelated to the concept of “coming,” but nevertheless derived from kal, more exactly from the root of its imperative form, եկ-ուր (yegoor) (singular) and եկ-էք (yegek) (plural).  Here is an incomplete list:

եկամուտ (yegamood): “income.” As you may notice, both Armenian and English words have been composed in a similar way. English in-come means “what is coming in” and Armenian yeg-a-mood indicates something that “comes” (yeg) and “enters” (mood, the root of the verb մտնել/mudnel).

զեկոյց (zegooyts): “communication, report.” Here we find the prefix z again, but because it is followed by a vowel, we pronounce as it is: z-eg-ooyts (ooyts is a suffix, as in the word զրոյց/zurooyts “chat”).

իրազեկ (irazeg): “informed.”

The meaning of another verb, զգալ (uzkal “to feel”), seems unrelated at first sight. What relation can you find between “to come” and “to feel”? It comes out that you can find it.

The verb uzkal is derived from kal, with help from the quite common Classical Armenian prefix զ (z). 
Thus, kal > uz-kal (it is pronounced with a schwa, because it is followed by a consonant). Don’t you feel what comes to you? Yes, you do. Words have mysterious connections.

A Complicated Word

The word բարդ (part) is an interesting term that, despite how it sounds for a Western Armenian speaker, has nothing to do with part. (In Classical and Eastern Armenian, it is pronounced bard.)

We do not know for sure what the origin of the word is. The oldest meaning attested, “pile, heap” (as in a heap of wheat or a pile of papers), is in the fifth century A.D. translation of the Bible. Later on, the verb partel (բարդել “to pile”) appeared too. It seems that the idea of items gathered together brought forward the specific meaning “compound (word)” that appeared in the histories transmitted under the names of Agatangeghos and Pavstos Buzand, also written in the fifth century. Later on, a kind of flower that flourished at the beginning of the spring was also named part.

The original meaning “pile, heap,” although still appears in contemporary dictionaries, seems to have lost much of its use.

Today, we have the following meanings related to part in Modern Armenian:

բարդ (part) “complicated”: Բարդ անձնաւորութիւն մը (part antznavorootioon muh “a complicated personality”)

բարդ (part) “complex”: Բարդ մեքենայ մը (part mekena muh “a complex machine”)

բարդ (բառ) (part parr) : “compound (word)” (for instance, օդանաւ/otanav “airplane” is a part parr)

բարդ (part) “battery”: Ելեկտրական բարդ (yelegdragan part “electrical battery”)

We also have some derivative words, such as:

բարդացնել (partatsunel) “to complicate”: Խնդիրը բարդացաւ (khuntiruh partatsav “the issue became complicated”)

բարդել (partel) “to pile”: Թուղթերը բարդեց (tooghteruh partets “s/he piled the papers”)

բարդութիւն (partootioon) “complication”: Բարդութիւններ եղան (partootioonner yeghan “there were complications”)

բարդոյթ (partooyt) “complex”: Ստորակայութեան բարդոյթ (usdoragayootian partooyt “inferiority complex”). This is a relatively new meaning, but only used in a psychological context.

Beware: if you translated terms like “military compound” or “sports complex” into Armenian by using part, nobody would understand you. (You would be using an adjective to translate a noun.) For that, you will have to learn another word: համալիր (hamaleer). For those who have been to Yerevan and have heard of the Hamaleer, there you have it: the sports-musical complex (մարզա-համերգային համալիր/ marza-hamerkayeen hamaleer) located in the hill of Dzidzernagapert, opposite the Մեծ Եղեռնի յուշարձան (Medz Yegherni hushardzan “Great Genocide memorial”) that commemorates 1915.