You Need Something to Transfer

Western Armenian is always engaged into various types of interactions, be them with different foreign languages or its sister variety, Eastern Armenian.



The latter has gone for a long time, and it became more and more prominent after the fall of the Soviet Union. Each variety borrows words and expressions missing from their core vocabulary. In the case of Western Armenian, the frequent use of information produced in Eastern Armenian brings certain words that become a sort of parasites.

Such is the case of the word փոխանցել (pokhantsel), which literally means “to pass from one to another,” and you translate it as “transfer.” For instance, when you make a money transfer, you call it դրամի փոխանցում (tramee pokhantsoom). You can also transmit information—from one source to the other—and call it տեղեկութեան փոխանցում (deghegootian pokhantsoom)

However, if you say something, you are communicating it. This is called հաղորդել (haghortel). For instance, a radio anchor who reads the news is making a news communication (լուրերու hաղորդում / looreroo haghortoom ).

The problem comes when you use pokhantsel instead of haghortel, something that did not happen decades ago. It is common to hear expressions of the type « Տիկինը փոխանցեց, որ ...» (Deegeenuh pokhantsets, vor… “The lady transferred that…”), as if you were transferring something, when the actual expression should be «Տիկինը հաղորդեց , որ ...» (Deegeenuh haghortets, vor … “The lady communicated that…”).

This is a calque from Eastern Armenian, where people with deficient knowledge of the language, at their turn, are making a mistranslation from Russian. These days, you can unknowingly learn bits and pieces from a language spoken thousands of miles from you. Who knew?  

Old Words that Took a New Life

From the sixth century B.C. to the beginning of the nineteenth century, Armenia was under Iranian domination for lengthy periods of its history. The kingdom of Armenia even had a dynasty of Iranian origin, the Arshakuni or Arsacids, for almost four centuries (I-V centuries A.D.). Therefore, it is not casual that Armenian vocabulary conserved many words of Iranian origin from different periods of its history, both in written and colloquial language.

Some of those words reached our times and took new meanings. One such case is that of the word նախարար (nakharar). During ancient and medieval times, it designated a hereditary title of highest rank given to members of the nobility. Its source was an Iranian term, nāfaδāra, meaning “chief or head of the clan.” The Iranian f would give h in Armenian, and thus, the Armenian term should have been նահարար (naharar). However, sometimes people think of words as having a different meaning than the one existing in dictionaries or established knowledge. Sometimes, that different meaning imposes itself. The word naharar was confused with nakharar and thought to have the meaning of “first of assets or properties.” This happened because the word nakh, another loan from an Iranian source, means “first, original.” In the end, nakharar imposed itself.

The interesting point is that nakharar took a new life in modern times, when Armenian nobility had disappeared. It adopted the meaning “minister,” as in տնտեսութեան նախարար (dundesootian nakharar “minister of Economy”). However, this meaning was disputed in Eastern Armenian, where the loanword from Russian մինիստր (ministr) was used until the end of the Soviet Union. After the new independence of Armenia, nakharar displaced the foreign word and now it is used everywhere in Armenia. This also includes the word նախարարութիւն (nakhararootioon), which was մինիստրութիւն (ministrootioon) in the past.

The word nakh is frequently used in Armenian for many compound words, like նախագահ (nakhakah), which literally means “first seat” or “first throne.” This word also comes from Classical Armenian and in modern times it took a new meaning: “president.” It also became the basis for the verb նախագահել (nakhakahel “to preside”), which does not necessarily mean to have the functions of a president. However, the meaning of the word was again disputed in Eastern Armenian, which adopted the loanword պրեզիդենտ (prezident) from Russian. [1] Like nakharar, also nakhakah made a came back after the end of the Soviet Union, and since 1991 we have had several nakhakah in the newly-independent Republic of Armenia.

[1] Much of Russian specialized vocabulary derives from Western European languages, especially French, and that’s why you see words like minister or president with a look very similar to the English word.

Salty and Sweet

A previous column (April 28, 2016) explained how Armenian աղ (agh) and English salt were related to each other. Now it seems fit to explore how salt, in the end, may become… sweet.

Salt gives flavor to all sorts of food, and, of course, it may be used in a metaphorical sense, as Jesus did in the Sermon of the Mount: “You are the salt of the earth, but if the salt has lost its flavor, with what will it be salted? It is then good for nothing, but to be cast out and trodden under the feet of men” (Matthew 5:13). Without salt, let aside all other condiments, food loses an essential nutrient and much of its actual taste.

 The concept of flavor implies, by extension, that salt also provides taste, including “sweetness.” The Armenian language has reflected that in a few words. Classical Armenian had the word աղու (aghoo), which meant “tasty, sweet.” Villages and mountains in Eastern and Western Armenia were and are named Աղու (Aghoo). The name comes from the combination of the word agh and the suffix ու (oo), used in adjectives like հատու (hadoo, from had(el) “to cut” + oo, meaning “sharp”).

But we have more surprises: two common words that are only used in Western Armenian and also have agh as their source. One of them is the word աղուոր (aghoo + or = aghvor), with the meaning of “good, nice” (e.g. աղուոր աղջիկ / aghvor aghchig “nice girl”). The other is աղէկ (agheg), which means “good” (e.g. աղէկ պայմաններ / agheg baymanner “good conditions”).

Doesn’t it sound convincing? In such cases, comparative examples offer a solution. The Russian word for “salt,” from the same Proto-Indo-European source, is sol’ . Two surprising derivations of this word are “sweet” (sladkii) and “candy” (sladosti). Why? Such are the mysteries of language