When Being Free Becomes Risky

English has two words for the same concept, “freedom” and “liberty,” the former coming from Old English and the other from French. Armenian has only one, ազատութիւն (azadootioon), which has Iranian origin. Indeed, the adjective “free” is ազատ (azad), and when you hear or say “Free Armenia,” with “free” used as an adjective, that is ազատ Հայաստան (azad Hayasdan).

As any speaker of English knows, there is another use for “free,” which entered the language in the sixteenth century from the notion of “free of cost,” that is, not requiring an expense. The sweet sound of being told that something is free of charge does not probably get lost on anyone.

Of course, this meaning of “free” has nothing to do with freedom or liberty. You do not say that you enjoy freedom of charge, do you? This should give a hint to avoid falling into the abyss of funny translations.

If we go to a lecture and we do not have to pay for attending it, the advertisement will probably say that it is “free of charge.” The Armenian translation for that is մուտքը ազատ է (moodkuh azad eh), which means “access is free.” As you see, we do not use a literal translation like վճարումէ ազատ է (vujaroomeh azad eh), which does not exist in real life.

The adverb “gratis,” another word for this meaning of “free,” is much less used indeed. However, its Armenian translation, the adverb and adjective ձրի (tzuri), is very common. We use it any time that we do not have to pay for something or we do something without expecting a payment. We also use it to say that we did something for no reason.

Other than that, if they ask you when you are available to go out for dinner, think twice before saying “I am free on Friday” as « Ուրբաթ գիշեր ձրի եմ » (Oorpat kisher tzuri em) . To the casual listener, you might be implying that you do not charge on that day.

Since you actually wanted to say that you do not have any other engagements on that day, then the real answer should be « Ուրբաթ գիշեր ազատ եմ » (Oorpat kisher azad em).

Otherwise, get ready for a Homeric laughter (you may want to read the Iliad or the Odyssey to find out why it is called “Homeric”).

How Do We Take Neither Side?

When something does not grammatically belong either to the masculine or the feminine gender, we say that it is of the neuter gender. The word “neuter” is a compound word derived from two Proto-Indo-European roots, ne (“not”) and uter (“either of two”). From this adjective we have the more commonly used “neutral,” meaning “taking neither side.”

Now, it is not unusual that the English word is composed of two roots. It is more unusual to find out that its Armenian counterpart is composed by five roots, especially because it has… five letters.

The word in question is չէզոք (chezok) “neutral.” This is one of those words that even some readers who do not know Armenian may identify. Twentieth-century Armenian politics and its interminable quarrels brought forward the concept of the chezok, namely, those community members who did not identify themselves with any political party or ideology, and took pride in being equidistant from all sides.

Whether you have known it or not so far, the word is quite common and covers everything you can imagine when thinking of the concept of “neutral” and its derivations.

Where does chezok come from?

Of course, from Classical Armenian, as the ending – k might indicate. The ք (k) was a plural ending that still survives in many modern words. For instance, we have գիր /kir “letter,” and the plural գիրք /kirk “letters,” which also generated the word kirk “book” (a plurality of letters).  

Here, we have the word ոք (vok, pronounced ok in Classical Armenian), meaning “one, a person,” which is still used in Modern Armenian when we say ոչ ոք (voch vok), meaning “nobody.” The root is the indefinite pronoun ո (vo). The word vok is preceded by the preposition զ (z), which was attached to words in the genitive declension and is still used in Modern Armenian (e.g the personal pronoun զիս /zis “me ,” from z + is ).

The letter չ (ch) is, indeed, the negative particle, and the է (e) is the third person, singular, of the verb “to be,” namely, չէ (che), means “is not.”

As a result, chezok literally meant, in an approximate translation, “not anyone.” The word probably appeared in the sixth century, the period called of the Hellenistic School, as a translation of Greek oudeteros (“neither, neuter”) and, of course, Latin neuter.

You have to appreciate the ingenuity of the translators by putting together five meaningful roots and come up with a short word. Perhaps you will also give a different value to the idea of taking neither side… in Armenian.

Sometimes It Is Not a Line

You traced a line.

You have a call on the first line.

You read between the lines.

You are waiting on a line.

You happen to know a little Armenian word that means “line”: գիծ (keedz). If you have enough vocabulary, you may also know that the verb “to line,” գծել (kudzel), comes from the same source.

Your issue is solved (or so you think):

1. “I traced a line”: Գիծ մը քաշեցի (Keedz muh kashetsee)
2. “I have a call on the first line”: Զանգ մը ունիմ առաջին գիծէն (Zank muh oonim aracheen keedzen)
3. “I read between the lines”: Գիծերու միջեւ կը կարդամ/կարդացի (Keedzeroo michev guh gartam/gartatsee)
4. “I am waiting on a line”: Գիծի կը սպասեմ (Keedzee guh usbasem)

The first two are correct, because keedz in Armenian is used both with the meaning of “a succession of points” and “telephone line.”

The last two are wrong. You may use “line” with all those meanings, but it does not mean that other languages, Armenian included, only use one word for all those meanings. (In the same way, other languages, Armenian included, use one word for several meanings, and English has several words instead.)

If you bother to open a dictionary, you will find that “line” does not only mean keedz. If you are talking about the lines in a notebook, or the lines in a poem, or the figurative expression “to read between the lines,” then you should be thinking of տող (dogh).

Equally important: when you go to wait on a line, you are not waiting on a keedz. You are actually lined up on a row. Therefore, that is a շարք (shark).

If you do not want to look like you translate when you talk, then remember:

1. “I read between the lines”: Տողերու միջեւ կը կարդամ/կարդացի (Dogheroo michev guh gartam/gartatsee)
2. “I am waiting on a line”: Շարքի կը սպասեմ (Sharki guh sbasem)

From Bombs to Soccer

You can probably figure out, without being an expert linguist, that the word “bomb” is related to the sound of “boom” that an explosive makes. Yes, that’s the way it is. The word came from French (what else) bombe, which derived from the Italian bomba. The Italian word, at its turn, probably came from the Latin bombus (“a deep, hollow noise,”), derived from Greek bombos (“deep and hollow sound”).

What about the Armenian word? The word ռումբ (roomp) should not be confused with the English rump , and even if you think that it is related to “boom,” you would be on the wrong track. Worse: it had nothing to do with an explosion.

The origin of roomp is unknown. It has been suggested a relation with Arabic rumH (ramaha ) “spear,” but it does not look promising for phonetic reasons.

What has a bomb to do with a spear? Apparently, nothing. However, this was one of the original meanings of roomp in Armenian ancient literature. In the fifth century, it meant “spear; sling-bullet, lead or iron ball.” In the thirteenth century, the Law Code of Mekhitar Gosh stated: “They have a spear, which is a roomp.” On the other hand, there was the word ռմբաքար (rumpakar) to designate the stone thrown with a catapult, a war machine used during sieges.

Therefore, since the spears and the stones are thrown, the word roomp designated in our days a bomb, which is also a projectile.

Of course, you also have the whole gallery of related words, such as ռմբակոծել (rumpagodzel “to bomb”) or ռմբահարել (rumpaharel “to explode a bomb”), but also ռմբակոծիչ (rumpagodzeech), which designates a “bombardier” (the type of airplane that bombs the enemy positions). However, do not think that all are just military words. The word ռմբարկու (rumpargoo), which means “bomber,” is also used in soccer, in a figurative sense of course, to designate… the goal scorer of a given team.  

Who will be the maximum rumpargoo (“goal scorer”) at the World Cup 2018? We will know very soon.

Children Soldiers?

The Armenian word մանկապարտէզ (mangabardez) is what linguists call a “calque translation” of the concept, first introduced in Germany, of a pre-school class or institution. While English simply copied the German word and adopted kindergarten, Armenian took the pains of translating it.

The translation of German kinder is մանուկ (manoog) in Armenian, indeed (the oo “disappears” when used in compound words). The Armenian word, which is also a proper name, derives from the Indo-European root *menu [the e should be read as a schwa], meaning “small, little,” with the addition of the diminutive suffix – ուկ (oog). Besides the meaning of “child,” manoog also means “small, of early age.”

That much we know. But how to make sense of the following passage in the ending part of the Holy Mass, which we hear every Sunday:

« Զխաղաղութիւն պարգեւեա (…) հայրապետութեան եւ հանրապետութեան ազգիս Հայոց, եւ հանրապետութեան Միացեալ նահանգացն Ամերիկայի, եւ զինուորեալ մանկանց նոցա (...)»

“Uzkhaghaghootyoon barkevya (...) hayrabedootyan yev hanrabedootyan azkis Hayots, yev hanrabedootyan Miyatsyal Nahankatsn Amerigayi, yev zinvoryal mangants notsa (…)”

For those who do not know Classical Armenian, zinvoryal mangants notsa is rendered into Modern Armenian as անոնց զինեալ մանուկներուն (anonts zinyal manoogneroon). Now, zinyal means “armed,” and if manoog is “children,” does it mean that the Holy Mass talks about the infamous practice of … “children soldiers”?

That would be ridiculous, because the sentence actually asks God: “Grant peace (…) to the Patriarchate and the Republic of the Armenian nation, and to the Republic of the United States of America, and…”

The issue is that manoog does not mean “children” here. The word had another meaning in Classical Armenian that has not been kept in Modern Armenian, namely, “young person, servant, soldier.” Therefore, zinvoryal mangants notsa refers to the “armed young people” of Armenia and the United States.

Interestingly, the prayer asks to grant peace to them. Therefore, to avoid wars as much as possible. 

Two Cousin Cows

The reconstruction of a prehistoric vocabulary, at the same time, reflects upon the culture that those ancient speakers had. When linguists found out that there was a common family of languages that included many European and a few Asian languages, the Indo-European family, they also theorized that there had been a proto-language from which the modern Indo-European languages descended. For the past two centuries, they have worked on the vocabulary of Proto-Indo-European (P.I.E.). Since the vocabulary of this proto-language is the product of a reconstruction and does not appear in any written source, its words are preceded by an asterisk.

P.I.E. had many words related to animal husbandry. One of those words with an asterisk is *gwou. The reader would hardly have any trouble to realize that *gwou is related to the familiar English word “cow.” Indeed it is.

The P.I.E. word *gwou meant “ox, bull, cow” and was inherited by many Indo-European languages. For instance, Sanskrit go, Persian gav, Proto-Germanic *kwon, and even Greek boûs and Latin bōs (the latter originated the English word “bovine”). It was also the source for the Armenian word կով (kov in Classical/Eastern Armenian; gov in Western Armenian). From the Proto-Germanic source came Old English cu, Middle English cu, qu, kowh, and our current “cow.”

Thus, we understand that, in this case, English and Armenian cows are cousins.

However, the old Armenian cows had an advantage over their English cousins. They also produced a word of Indo-European origin together with one of the sub-products of their milk. The Armenian word կոգի (kogi in Classical/Eastern Armenian; goki in Western Armenian) was used in Classical Armenian with the meaning “butter.” It derived from the Proto-Indo-European adjective *gwow-yo, like its cognates in Sanskrit (gavya, “coming from or belonging to a cow; milk”) and Avestan (the language of the Persian holy book, gaoiia, “coming from cattle, consisting of cattle”).

However, as it happens many times in language some Persian source provided another word, which became the one used in Modern Armenian: կարագ (karag in Classical/Eastern Armenian; garak in Western Armenian). And goki became a relic of the past.

Long Live the Dead Language

In the best case scenario, when a king or queen passed away, his or her successor was usually ready to go. Hence the criers went around with the phrase “The king (queen) is dead! Long live the king (queen)!” Wherever a monarchy is still around, they probably still do this.

This is probably how the expression “long live” entered the vocabulary to express a preference for a person or a place. Somehow, it displaced a possible competitor like the Middle English word hail “healthy,” which we use nowadays only in the expressions “Hail Mary” and “Hail to the Chief.”

Most English speakers are familiar with the Spanish word viva (also in Italian and Portuguese), which is the subjunctive form of the verb “to live” (vivir) and the word that Spanish vassals used to greet their kings: ¡ Viva el rey ! (“Long live the king!”). In this regard, it seems the Romance languages are more “economic” than English.

The Armenian language uses the future tense (third person) of the verb “to live,” namely, the word կեցցէ ( getseh ). For example, we say Կեցցէ՛   Հայաստան   (Getseh Hayastan “Long live Armenia”).

Wait a moment. Isn’t ապրիլ / abreel the Armenian word for “to live”? 

 

Indeed it is, but that is the Modern Armenian word. The root of getseh is the Classical Armenian verb կեալ ( geal ), which means exactly the same. Generally speaking, we do not use the word ապրի /abree to cheer kings or singers, or to simply cheer Armenia, even though we use ապրիս /abrees to address our cheer to someone (Ապրի՛ս , տղաս / Abrees, dughas “Bravo, my boy”) along with կեցցե՛ս / getsehs .

The same happens with the opposite of “long live,” that is, “down with.” While the expression is similar in Romance languages (e.g. Spanish Abajo el rey “Down with the king”), it is not the same for Armenian, where we use անկցի ( angtsee ), the third person of the future tense of the verb անկանիլ (anganeel) “to fall” in Classical Armenian. Thus, we would say Անկցի՛ թագաւորը (Angutsee takavoruh “Down with the king”).

The Modern Armenian verb derived from anganeel is the familiar verb իյնալ (eenal “to fall”), and the root ang continues to exist in a batch of words like անկում (angoom “fall”), անկարգել (angarkel “parachute”), անկելանոց (angelanots “asylum”), and others. 

Therefore, when you say that Classical Armenian is a dead language, don’t be so sure. You will be surprised to find so many words from the “dead” language that live everyday in our vocabulary. Getseh and angutsee are just two of them.