You Do Not Own Time

We have insisted many times in this column on the importance of thinking in Armenian when speaking Armenian. For that matter, whatever language you speak other than English, you have to think in that particular language. Why? First of all, because you may want to show that you are the owner of that language, instead of the language owning you! Second, because if you start copying English structures when talking in, say, Spanish, you can just become the butt of all jokes by speakers of that language. (If you text message “Mi casa es no su casa,” mirroring “My house is not your house,” rest assured that you may get as many “rolling on the floor laughing” emojis as your interlocutor(s) can type.)

A few examples may be helpful not only to American-born speakers of Armenian or learners of Armenian as a second language, but also to native speakers of Armenian who have lived in an English-speaking milieu for a long time. Phrases calqued from English may come naturally to the former, while the same calques enter the oral language of the latter with the same speed.

We have chosen three most common phrases:

1) Take your time

You take your time to have breakfast, to do your homework, to write a letter, or to mow the lawn. So, you’re doing things at your own pace, right? Right.

Of course, you understood that when someone—born in Boston, in Istanbul, in Paris, or in Beirut—politely suggested to “take your time” and said «Ժամանակդ առ» (Jamanagut arr). You understood correctly, but someone said it wrong. If s/he were really talking in Armenian, the recommendation would have been:

Մի՛ աճապարեր (Mi ajabarer), that is, “Don’t rush!”

While sometimes two unrelated languages may use the same structure to express the same idea, many other times they are both very different one from the other. The Armenian language is not poorer because it uses “Don’t rush” instead of “Take your time.” It simply did not create a second expression to say the same thing. Why? Because you do not own time to take it…

2) I had a good time

In a previous column we have discussed how the verb “to have” has many meanings in English, while its Armenian counterpart ունենալ has exactly one meaning: “to own, to become owner, to receive.” Again, it is hard to believe that you think that you own time. However, this is exactly the impression that you leave when you walk to your car after a party while saying: «Ես լաւ ժամանակ ունեցայ» (Yes lav jamanag oonetsa “I had a good time”). If your interlocutor knows proper Armenian, he might snipe: «Չէ, չունեցար» (Che, choonetsar “No, you didn’t”). The reason is that you do not “have” a good time when going to a party or doing anything else you can imagine related to this sentence. You actually spend a good time. This is how the Armenian speaker thinks: «Ես լաւ ժամանակ անցուցի» (Yes lav jamanag antsootsi). This literally means “I spent a good time.” If it does not sound right, it is only because you are under the charm of the English when trying to speak Armenian.

3) Have a nice day



How many times a day do you say this? Again, the problem that we have is that, since you do not own time in Armenian, you cannot own a day. Therefore, to say «Լաւ օր ունեցէք» (Lav or oonetsek) is pointless, because the concept does not exist in Armenian thinking. You simply wish a good day, and then you say «Լաւ օր ձեզի»  (Lav or tsezi), which literally means “Good day to you” (of course, if it is good, it is nice too). Of course, if you are talking to a friend or family member, it goes without saying that you will say «Լաւ օր քեզի» (Lav or kezi), now using second person in the singular. 

Of Trust and Confidence

As it happens with so many words, the belief or reliance on the veracity, integrity, good will, or other virtues of someone has two different terms in English. Both of them are Indo-European in origin. One of them has Germanic roots. “Trust” comes from Old Norse traust, which derives from Proto-Germanic *traustam < * treuwaz, which in the end has its source in the Proto-Indo-European (P.I.E.) root *deru “be firm, solid, steadfast.”

The other word, “confidence,” has Latin origin. It comes either from Old French confidence or directly from Latin confidentia, which in the end is a compound word: com is probably an intensive prefix—namely, a word that gives more emphasis—and fidere means “to trust.” The source of fidere is one of those P.I.E. roots that do not look at all like their descendent to the untrained eye: *bheidh “to trust, confide, persuade.” Let’s not forget, however, that there are more than a couple of thousand years between the Latin word and the putative P.I.E. root. (To be remembered: the words with an asterisk are not directly attested, but it is supposed that they have existed on the basis of comparative evidence.)

Of course, since the concept is one, there is one Armenian word for both English terms: վստահութիւն (vustahootyoon). Armenian, like French or Spanish do at times, combines an adjective with a suffix to yield the corresponding noun. Here, վստահ (vustah  “sure; reliable; daring”) comes into play with the suffix – ութիւն (ootyoon) . If you want the verb, you just need to put together vustah and the desinence –իլ (il) to obtain վստահիլ (“to trust”).

Do not be surprised: vustah is attested in Classical Armenian and has Iranian origin. It is derived from Pahlavi (the Iranian dialect spoken by the Parthians, from which the Arshakuni family came) vistaxv “sure, reliable, daring; insolent.” Of course, someone who is daring may become insolent in the absence of self-control. But the Armenian language borrowed the word vustah without keeping that meaning. When you are vusdah, you are basically sure or confident about something, or you trust someone.

Of course, in God we trust. However, there are people around you who also deserve your trust. It is a good virtue to practice vustahootyoon.     

The Perils of Misspeaking

A translator or an interpreter has a very delicate function: to convey ideas into another language. That function is manifold, because it is not only about what you convey, but how you convey it. (Let’s leave aside why you convey it and to whom you convey it.)

The matter of “how” is always a thorny issue for someone who translates from Armenian into English or vice versa. We have previously referred to some tricky cases, such as the familiar idiomatic expression էշուն սատկած տեղը (eshoon sadgadz deghu), a figurative way to say “in a faraway place.” While we will leave to the reader the task of finding the appropriate English equivalent for this expression, we can only reassure him or her that it would be very unfortunate, not to say ridiculous, to translate it literally as “the place where the donkey died.”

The thorny issue, of course, also becomes painful to whoever speaks or writes in Armenian, when you find yourself struggling to offer a correct expression that does not smell as English translated into Armenian. Although such cases sometimes may pass inadvertently, in others what goes around, comes around, and you may become a laughing stock. Of course, communication is what matters and it is not polite to laugh or to chide someone for a language mistake. However, it also matters for a conscientious speaker that communication improves over time and does not remain forever on an elementary school level (public examples should be brushed aside as anomalies). Here are two examples—not literally reproduced—that sometimes appear in spoken language:

1) “I serve under…”

Unless you are self-employed, you always work or carry out responsibilities under someone else’s directions. The English language has an idiom for that: “to serve under” (“I served under General X”). We all understand that you served under the command of General X, even if it is not stated. Since this is an idiom, if you needed to express the same idea in Armenian, you should not translate it literally. If you said «Ես ծառայեցի զօրավար Ք.-ի տակ» (Yes dzarayetsee zoravar K-i dag), it would literally mean… that General X was standing or lying over your body while you served, which, incidentally, would probably lead to charges of sexual harassment or physical distress.

Since you want to avoid such costly misunderstandings, it would be more proper to say: «Ես ծառայեցի զօրավար Ք.-ի հրամանին տակ» (Yes dzarayetsee zoravar K-i huramaneen dag ). This would mean “I served under the command/orders of General X,” and it would save you a trial for defamation and/or a court-martial trial to the poor general.

2) “Connect me to…”

This one will appear, for instance, when you answer to a call and the caller, at some point, asks you to kindly patch the communication over to one of your colleagues. In English, of course, you would say “Please connect me to…” (or “Please transfer me too…”). In Armenian? Not quite so. If your interlocutor said «Հաճիս Պօղոսին կապէ»  (hajees Boghoseen gabeh), what did he mean? To go right away and tie Boghos to his desk? Although the phrase is grammatically inaccurate, because the verb կապել/gabel (“to tie, connect, link”) is transitive and the phrase should be «Հաճիս Պօղոսը կապէ» (Hajees Boghosuh gabeh ), the meaning does not change: “Please tie Boghos.” 



Thus, to avoid this absurdity, you need to use the correct sentence. Unlike English, it is not “connect me to…” but “connect me with …” The solution is: «Հաճիս Պօղոսին հետ կապէ» (Hajees Boghoseen hed gabeh), “Please connect me with Boghos.” Then you will be patched over to your colleague and Boghos will not be under any risk…