Sometimes We Do Not Need to Invent Words

We all know that there are differences between colloquial and written language. Some things are more or less tolerable when speaking, but not when writing.

The problem with improper words, rather than their use in a conversation, is that their inaccurate usage may pass for accurate and become part of regular speech. We have already discussed the case of various words of Turkish/Arabic origin commonly used in conversation, which are “believed” to be Armenian. This time, we will discuss a parasite use of an Armenian suffix, -ութիւն (-ootioon).

This suffix is commonly used to make a noun out of an adjective, as in angakh (անկախ, “independent”) / angakhootioon (անկախութիւն, “independence”), or a new noun from another noun, as in kir (գիր, “letter”) / krootioon (գրութիւն, “writing”). But sometimes, people tend to overkill their knowledge, especially those who are fluent in the Armenian language. This is how we come across the use of ootioon to create useless and wrong nouns, because they actually mean the same as the original. For instance, we hear people saying:

• Ես ջուրի պէտքութիւն ունիմ (Yes choori bedkootioon oonim, “I need water”)
• Այդ խօսքերը նախանձութեան արդիւնք են (Ayt khoskere nakhantsootian artioonk en, “Those words are the result of envy”
• Մենք հիւրութեան գացինք (Menk hioorootian katsink, “We went as guests”).

The abovementioned sentences would be perfectly right if the words bedk (պէտք “need”), nakhants (նախանձ “envy”), and hioor (հիւր “guest”) were used, instead of the words bedkootioon, nakhantsootioon, and hioorootioon, which simply do not exist in Armenian.

If you avoid the use of these and other artificial words finished in ootioon that have no right to exist (if you are in doubt, open a reliable dictionary), at least you will give one less reason to those who are fond to say that Armenian words are too long. We do not need to pile up by inventing words.

An Old Ship that Looks to the Stars

Both English terms that designate vessels, boat and ship, have Germanic origin, and both are possibly from old Indo-European roots. The same happens with a third term that does not designate a vessel, but is sea-related: navy. While navy comes from Old French navie (“fleet”), the ultimate origin of this word is navis (“ship”). This Latin word is also behind other English words, like naval or navigate, while the Greek naus (“ship”) is behind the English word nautical.

More importantly, Latin navis and Greek naus belong to a widespread family of Indo-European sister words (the term is also present in Sanskrit and Iranian languages, among others) that include the Armenian word նաւ (nav) “ship.” The ultimate source for all of them is a word that theoretically existed at the time when a single Indo-European (also called Proto-Indo-European) language existed. That word has been reconstructed as *nau “ship” (the asterisk symbolizes that the word does not exist in any written text, but it is only a reconstruction).

Historically, Armenia did not have seashores (except on the Caspian Sea and, during the Armenian kingdom of Cilicia, on the Mediterranean Sea), and Armenians were not great seafarers—even though they traveled quite a lot over the seven seas from ancient times. But the Armenian language had a wide collection of words related to nav since the fifth century. We will mention just three of the many words from that time that are commonly used today:

նաւակ (navag): “small boat”
նաւորդ (navort): “navigator” (there you have a possible way to say “GPS” in Armenian)
նաւահանգիստ (navahankisd): “port”

Therefore, all sea-related English words starting with nav- or naut- are actually related to their Armenian distant cousin nav. And even if one day you prefer to go to the stars instead of the sea, remember that an astronaut is called... աստղանաւորդ (asdghanavort) in Armenian.

A Particular Way to Enjoy

Western Armenian has an interesting couple: վայելել (vayelel) and վայլել (vaylel). It is interesting because both words derive from Classical Armenian vayelel, and also because . . . the couple does not exist in Eastern Armenian, which has only adopted the latter.

What is the difference between them? One has kept the original meaning, while the other has turned into a specialized meaning. Thus,

1. Vayelel means “to enjoy.” For instance, «Ես ընթրիքը վայելեցի» (Yes entrikuh vayeletsi – “I enjoyed the dinner”).
2. Vaylel means “to suit” (which may be regarded as a certain way of enjoying). For instance, «Խօսելու այս ձեւը քեզի չի վայլեր» (Khoseloo ays tsevuh kezi chi vayler – “This way of talking does not suit you”).

This is not an isolated case. We may recall the Classical Armenian word աշակերտ (ashagerd, “student”), which in both branches of Armenian also gave birth to a second word: աշկերտ (ashgerd, “apprentice”).

It is common to confuse vaylel with vayelel. In any case, you cannot say «Ես ընթրիքը վայլեցի» (Yes entrikuh vayletsi). How could you “suit” the dinner?

What Do You Prefer to Pick Up?

How many people out there are not afraid of picking and reading weighty tomes? (Users of Kindle and Nook, so-called “tree huggers,” and the like are excused). But probably any of them will gladly pick up a couple of տոմս or տոմսակ (Western Armenian doms or domsag, Classical/Eastern Armenian toms or tomsak). Otherwise, they would not be able to set foot in a theater or board a plane without a “ticket.”

(The same as French billet “ticket,” both Armenian words have also another meaning: when you scribble a short message to someone, you say that you have written a doms or a domsag.)

Interesting, tome and doms/domsag “ticket” come from the same place, even though they are so different in size and weight. How come?

We know that a tome is a book, especially a heavy one. The word comes from French tome (equivalent to English volume, as in “two-volume book”), but its ultimate origin, via Latin, is Greek τόμος (tomos “section, roll of papyrus, volume”).  The diminutive of this word is τομαρίων (tomarion “small volume”). In the fifth century A.D., Armenian had borrowed both words from Greek

1. The abovementioned տոմս (toms), with the meaning of “section,” which later evolved into a piece of paper to mean a “ticket” or a billet, and the addition of the diminutive suffix ակ (ag/ak);
2. The word տոմար (tomar, Western Armenian domar), with the meaning of “section, volume,” but also “calendar.” That’s why today we use domar both in the sense of “registry book” (a bookkeeper is called a տոմարակալ /domaragal ) and “calendar” (Հայ Եկեղեցւոյ տոմար /Hay Yegeghetsvo domar “calendar of the Armenian Church”).

You will be surprised to learn that tome, doms, and domar are also related to another little English word: atom.  Atoms were thought to be indivisible, hence the name (a-tom “non-divisible”), even though they found out that they were actually divisible at the turn of the twentieth century! Incidentally, Armenian, unlike English and other Western languages, has a word of its own to say “atom,” which, by the way, is also... of Greek origin: հիւլէ (hiwle).

Love Is a Tricky Thing

If you hear the phrase “He married a girl,” you will understand that some man tied the knot with a woman. But what will you get from the literal translation «[Ան] ամուսնացաւ աղջիկ մը» ([An] amoosnatsav aghchig me)? You can only understand that . . . “a girl married”!

This is the risk of thinking in one language when talking or writing in another. Sometimes, you fall into amusing traps. In this case, you can solve it by using the proper expression «[Ան] ամուսնացաւ աղջկան մը հետ» (which literally would be “He married with a girl” in English).

Since we are in the field of sentimental issues, let us remind our readers of another troublemaker:

• “I fell in love with him”
• “I fell in love with her beauty.” 

It does not matter whether it is a physical person or a non-physical quality. In Armenian you don’t fall in love with someone or something. There is no “with” (hed) there: «Ես սիրահարեցայ անոր/իրեն» (Yes siraharetsa anor/iren), «Ես սիրահարեցայ անոր գեղեցկութեան» (Yes siraharetsa anor keghetsgootyan).

But not everything is different.

English love has a direct object: “I love my wife,” “I love my dog,” “I love soccer.” Armenian love is no different; you love someone or something: «[Ես] կը սիրեմ կինս» ([Yes] guh sirem ginus), «Ես կը սիրեմ շունս» ([Yes ] gue sirem shoonus), «[Ես] կը սիրեմ ոտնագնդակը» ([Yes] guh sirem vodnakuntaguh).

But many people are fond of loving to someone or something. For instance, when they want to declare their love, they mistakenly say «Ես քեզի կը սիրեմ» (Yes kezi guh sirem), instead of «Ես քեզ կը սիրեմ» (Yes kez guh sirem). In this case, kezi means “to you.” Do you love “to” her? Or him?

Don’t Sit on a File!

You may have a long sofa without a back, probably with various cushions against the wall. The English language calls that a divan (the same as French and Spanish), and the word comes from Turkish divan. But, indeed, the nomadic Turks had come into the Near East and did not bring the sofa with them: they simply adopted it, as they did with many other things, from the Arabs (diwan), who, in their turn, had borrowed it from the Persians. The Armenian dialects also have the word տիւան (divan), borrowed from Turkish, which is used in colloquial language.

Strangely enough, the two ultimate source words for these words, and for many others spread from the Middle East to the Atlantic Ocean, are dēvān (“archive,” in Middle Persian) and divan (“tribunal, hall, court, council chamber, collection of poems,” in Persian). How did an archive or a tribunal become a cushioned seat? The explanation is quite simple: those seats are found along the wall in Middle Eastern council chambers.

The word divan “Oriental council of state” also entered the English language in the 1580s, but it is not the kind of word that you use on a daily basis. Instead, its counterpart դիւան (tivan, in Western Armenian pronunciation) is of quite common use, although not with that same meaning.

The word entered Classical Armenian from Persian already in the fifth century. Historians Koriun and Movses Khorenatsi used դիւան with the meaning of “school” or “library.” Today, in Modern Armenian, the word is used with the meanings of “archive” and “office.”

In its first meaning, it’s synonymous with արխիւ/arkhiv, a borrowing from German via Russian.

In the second, you may hear it used when you talk about the tivan of an organization, meaning the distribution of the offices in its executive board. It also designates the office of president and secretary of an assembly.

The word is particularly used in compound terms, such as:

• Դիւանագէտ (tivanaked) “diplomat,” hence դիւանագիտութիւն (tivanakidootyoon) “diplomacy”
• Դիւանապետ (tivanabed) “head of office / head of archive”
• Դիւանակալ (tivanagal) “bureaucrat”

As you see, seats and archives are related in Armenian. It is only a matter of being careful and avoid sitting. . . on a file.

Do We Always Go Together?

This is what the final song of the famous musical Grease says: “We Go Together.” However, two quite different languages like Armenian and English do not go always together. This is quite clear in the word... “together.”

The English words “together” and “gather” are somehow related, as their meanings point out, and it is logical to think that together has evolved from the combination of to + gather.

The Armenian equivalent, միասին (miasin), is also a composite word, but has an even deeper meaning. Its origin indicates a closer relationship: two people who have not only come to gather, but have been raised together. The first word, մի (mi), is the Classical and Eastern Armenian form of “one”—մէկ (meg) in Western Armenian—and the root of the word միութիւն (miootioon, “unity”) and the second word, սին (sin), is the result of the substitution of a vocal (this is technically called ablaut) from the original word սուն (sun, “to keep, to feed, to raise,” from which we have սնունդ/sunoont, “food, nourishment”). Thus, in the beginning, to be miasin meant that one had been fed and raised with someone else.

Now, while today miasin always implies “together,” this does not mean than every time we see “together” in English we should automatically think of miasin. Otherwise, we find ourselves in trouble.

One hears, for instance, “They live together.” This is, of course, Անոնք միասին կ՚ապրին (Anonk miasin g’abrin), and there is nothing wrong here. However, when we say “He has come together with his family,” the case is different.

Armenian has something that Latin had and, for instance, German still has, but the English language has lost: noun declination (հոլովում, holovoom). These are the little particles է (e), ի (i), ով (ov), with the particular cases that “torture” us when we learn the paradigms of declination of various nouns.

One of the six cases of noun declination is called “instrumental declination” (գործիական հոլով, kordziagan holov), which applies to the abovementioned sentence. The English with is an indication of instrument, and thus, you should forget “together” when you render the sentence into Armenian. You may either say,

1)Ան իր ընտանիքին հետ եկած է (An ir undanikin hed yegadz e = He has come with his family),

or

2) Ան իր ընտանիքով եկած է (An ir undanikov yegadz e = He has come with his family)

As we said in the beginning, yes, languages go together, but not always.