How Do You Say “Parsley” in Armenian?

Some words have odd origins. Such is the case of parsley, which does not look like that, but it has a Greek origin. The word was petersilie in Middle English and came from Greek petroselinon (“rock” + “parsley”) via Latin, and took its actual form due to the influence of French peresil, which had the same origin.

Now, the Armenian for parsley has a different origin. But, first, what’s this Armenian word? Most people who base their knowledge of Armenian only on what they hear and not on what they read will promptly say maghdanos (մաղտանոս).

Unfortunately for them, they are utterly wrong. However, it is instructive to see where this Greek-looking word comes from.

It appears that parsley was introduced to the Near East after the expedition of Alexander of Macedon (Alexander the Great), when the Hellenistic civilization expanded during the next centuries. The Greek word makedonesi (μακεδονήσι “Macedonian, Macedonian herb”) entered Arabic as magdunis, with the meaning “parsley.” Old Arabic medicine treatises mention magdunis rumi (“Greek parsley”). From Arabic, the word probably entered the Armenian language as maghdanos (Eastern Armenian maghadanos մաղադանոս) and Turkish as maydanoz.

However, maghdanos has only remained in Western Armenian at the oral level. In the late nineteen and early twentieth centuries, when Modern Armenian was subjected to a cleanup of foreign words, thus went out maghdanos, probably because of its resemblance to the Turkish word. It was replaced by the actual Armenian word, azadkegh (ազատքեղ), which designates the wild parsley and is the only one used in writing. It is composed by the roots azad (ազատ “free”) and kegh (քեղ “a plant”), with the meaning of plant that grows freely or wildly. Indeed, azad is the Persian old root azat that has existed in the Armenian language since the fifth century A.D. and before.

Words not only have odd origins, but have odd ways to resemble each other. The meaning of azadkegh reminds us of petroselinon, the Greek ancestor of parsley that we mentioned before. Isn’t parsley that grows among the stones a plant that grows freely?

One Piece of Nonsense . . . Sometimes

When we want to speak about a single item or creature, we say “one” in English (“I only found one”). If we want to stress its singularity, we may say “just one.”

If you go to the market and find only one melon, you may report back in Armenian that Miayn meg had sekh kuda (Միայն մէկ հատ սեխ գտայ), literally “I only found one [piece of] melon.” This is indeed accurate, as it identifies the piece (had) of the item in question.

However, people sometimes tend to turn human beings into . . . melons. How come? For instance, when they say An yergoo had zavag ooni (Ան երկու հատ զաւակ ունի), namely, “He (or she) has one [piece of] child.” If you translate the phrase from Armenian into English, you will never use “piece” of course, but you can hear literally the phrase in conversations, instead of the correct form An yergoo zavag ooni (Ան երկու զաւակ ունի).

As one American president said, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.” There is the worst case scenario, when meg had is used without thinking twice, and then, it becomes ridiculous. 

Here are some nice examples:

1. A student asks the teacher Oriort, meg had asiga patsadretsek (Օրիորդ, մէկ հատ ասիկա բացատրեցէք), which should be “Miss, please explain this” in plain English. Instead of meg had, the simple hajik (հաճիք - “please”) would do miracles here: Oriort, hajik asiga patsadretsek.
2. Someone suggests about a reader Meg had yevs togh garta krootioone (Մէկ հատ եւս թող կարդայ գրութիւնը), namely, “Let him read the write-up once again.” Of course, it should be ankam me (անգամ մը): Ankam me yevs togh garta krootioone.
3. A visitor is very unhappy with your hospitality and threatens: Meg had al tser doone bidi chkam (Մէկ հատ ալ ձեր տունը պիտի չգամ – “I won’t come to your home again”). If he does not like ankam men al (անգամ մըն ալ), he could say aylevs (այլեւս) instead of meg had al: Ankam men al/aylevs tser doone bidi chkam.

Make a reality check and ask yourself how many times you say any of these in a week. Then, see what you can do about it.

Of Masks and Mascara

Women know well the meaning of the English word mascara, which ultimately shares the same origin with mask. Admittedly, the immediate origin of mascara is Italian mascara, while mask comes from French masque. However, the French word has an Italian origin at its turn (maschera, mascara), which was borrowed from Latin masca (“witch, specter”). Somewhere in the middle, we must also count the influence of the Arabic word masxara “buffoon.”

This Arabic word has also been the source for maskhara (մասխարա), a word that some people use in colloquial Armenian, which means exactly “buffoon.” It has even originated an Arabic-Armenian hybrid: maskharayootioon /մասխարայութիւն (“buffoonery”).

Of course, these two words are not “proper” Armenian. The actual Armenian word for “buffoon” is dzaghradzoo (ծաղրածու). This is a compound word formed by dzaghr (ծաղր), the root of the verb “to mock” (dzaghrel / ծաղրել), and adzoo (ած), “the one who brings something.” Therefore, a dzaghradzoo is “the one who brings mockery.”

Here we close the circle: the word dzaghr ultimately comes from a Semitic language, probably Aramaic, where dzaghra meant “to mock.” This is the same with Arabic saxira “to mock,” which combined with the prefix ma, becomes the noun masxara.

In the end, as we see, Armenian and English share a similar, faraway origin for these words.

However, for those who are getting ready to use masks on Halloween, it is interesting to mention that the Armenian word timag (դիմակ “mask”) falls out of that circle. It was pronounced dimak (դիմակ), in Classical Armenian (derived from Iranian demak “effigy, form”) and originally meant “effigy, image, false face.” However, we only use it in Modern Armenian with the meaning of “mask.” Of course, if you go to a “masquerade ball,” that would mean that you are going to a timagahantes (դիմակահանդէս).

There Is Only One Way to Enjoy Something

The Armenian American colloquial language has a favorite expression: injoy unel (ինճոյ ընել). A sample of it may be found in the sentence Antsial Shapat orvan khnjooyku injoy uri («Շաբաթ օրուան խնճոյքը ինճոյ ըրի»).

Any reader with minimal knowledge of English will immediately recognize that injoy unel is nothing else but a homemade adaptation of the verb “to enjoy”. Thus, the sentence above may be translated as “I enjoyed the party of last Saturday.”

Isn’t there a way to say “enjoy” in Armenian? Indeed, there is: the verb vayelel (վայելել). Thus, you simply say Antsial Shapat orvan khnjooku vayeletsi.

If you need to use derivative words, you have them too: “enjoyable” – վայելուչ/vayeluch, “enjoyment” (վայելում/vayelum).

Meanwhile, it is interesting to note that there is another verb very close to vayelel, but with a different meaning: vaylel (վայլել). Of course, many people use vaylel as a synonym to vayelel, but this is wrong. The verb vaylel means “to suit”; for instance, we have Ays hakoosdu kezi chi vayler (Այս հագուստը քեզի չի վայլեր), which means “This clothing doesn’t suit you.”

Conclusion:
vayelel – “to enjoy”
vaylel – “to suit”

“Badly” Does Not Mean Kesh

The word kesh (գէշ), which means “bad, evil,” is a little tricky when you try to use it to express some English ideas. This is something that a native speaker may realize quite easily, if his/her language is not already contaminated by the use of English.

Let’s start with someone who needs to go to the bathroom quite urgently. He or she tells you: Shad kesh lvatsaran bedk eh yertam («Շատ գէշ լուացարան պէտք է երթամ»). This is an almost literal translation of “I need to go to the restroom very badly.” It is literal, which does not mean that it is right.

First of all, “badly” is an adverb, while kesh is an adjective. If you hear shad kesh lvatsaran..., it actually sounds ridiculous: it would mean that you need to go to a “very bad restroom” (= not a good one).

Secondly, the word “badly” has two meanings. One of them is “very much, to a great degree.” You will immediately realize the problem: the word kesh does not have this meaning in any dictionary. Therefore, you need to express “badly” with a word that shows that meaning, according to the context.

In this case, the person should have told you: Shad bedk oonim lvatsaran yertaloo («Շատ պէտք ունիմ լուացարան երթալու»). This amounts to “I am in much need of going to the restroom.” As you will see, it is not word-by-word translation. But who said that you need to translate word-by-word?

The second use of “badly” that is worthy of an exploration is the case of the athlete that bends his or her ankle and says Shad kesh vnasvadz em («Շատ գէշ վնասուած եմ»), meaning “I am very badly hurt.” It almost sounds like there is also a “good” way to be hurt.

This would also be wrong on all counts, indeed: “badly” means “severely, seriously” in this context. In Armenian, you have three adjectives to choose: dzanr (ծանր, “heavy, grave”), khisd (խիստ, “severe”), and loorch (լուրջ, “serious”). Because you translate concepts, you can say dzanr vnasvadz em, khisd vnasvadz em, or loorch vnasvadz em, and be on the safe side. You may also use the adverbial forms dzanroren, khsdoren, or lrchoren, but it is not mandatory, especially in a colloquial environment.

In any case, even if you are in an emergency, think before talking. You may be better understood.

Only Right Guides Admitted

The word arachnort (առաջնորդ) has several meanings in Armenian: “guide,” “leader,” “chief,” “head,” and by extension, “head of an ecclesiastic division.” It is, obviously, a composition of the word arachin (առաջին “first”) and the suffix ord (որդ): arachin + ort = arachnort. Interestingly, one of its English equivalents, primate (“head of an ecclesiastic division”), is a French word that came from Latin primat (“of the first rank”), a derivation from Latin primus (“first”).

It is interesting to compare the roots of both words: primus is related to Latin pre (“before”), which has generated a lot of English words (predict, prescribe, prevention, and so on and so forth), while arachin literally means “towards the right.” It is another compound word: ar (առ) + ach (աջ) + in (ին). The prefix ar is a Classical Armenian term that means “towards” (today we use tebi-դէպի in Modern Armenian) and ach is, of course, the side contrary to the left.

An arachnort, then, was the person who guided, led, or headed correctly (“to the right”), be it a tourist guide, a political leader, an administrative head, or a primate or prelate.

As the reader probably knows, anything related to the left (ձախ-tsakh) had a bad press until recent times: left-handed people were forced to become right-handed, for instance. The verb “to fail” is tsakhoghil (ձախողիլ) in Armenian, whose root is, indeed, tsakh. Left was synonymous with inaccurate and incorrect, anything that was not... right.

This is why the word achaguits (աջակից “assistant, supporter”) is formed by the combination of ach (աջ) and gits (կից “to join, to attach”). The person who assisted or supported someone was supposed to help from the right side. Nobody would have dared to call her tsakhaguits; it would have probably attracted bad luck from the very beginning.

People and Youth Are Not Plural

“People have the power.” “Youth are the future.” Any English speaker will not think twice before using the words people and youth in plural. This happens because both words are thought as plural, even though they are singular in construction.

However, don’t even think for a second about writing «Ժողովուրդը ուժը ունին» (Zhoghovoorte oozhe oonin) and «Երիտասարդութիւնը ապագան են» (Yeridasartootioone abakan en). As we have said in other opportunities, the rules of Armenian are not the same as the rules of English, and naturally, the result of thinking in English and writing in Armenian is not... Armenian.

What happens in this case? As in Indo-European languages other than English (for instance, Spanish and French), the words zhoghovoort (“people”) and yeridasartootioon (“youth”) are singular in construction and must match a singular verb. (It is true that in certain cases, you can use youth with a singular verb, but there is not a choice in Armenian.) Even more: the word yeridasartootioon, unlike its English counterpart, cannot be used in plural.

Then, the right way to translate the two sentences is:

«Ժողովուրդը ուժը ունի» (Zhoghovoorte oozhe ooni – “People have the power”)

«Երիտասարդութիւնը ապագան է» (Yeridasartootioone abakan eh – “Youth are the future”).

Of course, someone may think that both sentences are not true, and that neither do the people have the power (it is somewhere else) nor the youth are the future (they are the present). But this is a subject for a different discussion.