Here’s a recording in a mystery language.
Do you know, or can you guess, the language?
Category: English
Trigraphs
This week I made some improvements to the Yurok (Puliklah) language page on Omniglot, and added a page about a related language, Wiyot (Soulatluk).
Yurok house
Both languages were spoken in northern California in the USA until fairly recently, and efforts are being made to revive them. They are classified as belonging to the Algic language family, which also includes the Algonquian languages. The Algonquian languages are spoken mainly in eastern and southern Canada, down the east coast, and in eastern and central parts of the USA. So it’s interesting that Yurok and Wiyot ended up so far away in California.
Recently, Sergei Nikolaev (Сергей Николаев), a Russian linguist, has proposed a link between the Algic languages and Nivkh, which is spoken in Sakhalin Island and along the Amur river in the Russian Far East, and also with the Wakashan languages of British Colombia and Washington state.
In the 1970s and 1980s, ways to write Yurok, and other Native American languages of northern California, with the Unifon alphabet were devised and promoted by Tom Parsons (1930-2018), the director of Humboldt State University’s Community Development Center. A number of Yurok books in Unifon were published, however the alphabet is no longer used, as far as I can tell. Do you know of any other constructed scripts that have been / are used like this?
Yurok is currently written with the New Yurok Alphabet, a spelling system using the Latin alphabet that was devised in 2020. It includes some interesting choices of letters, such as ee for [i], eee for [iː], ue for [u] and uue for [uː]. Digraphs (double letters) are common enough, but trigraphs (triple letters) are relatively rare. I’m not sure why they didn’t use i, ii, u and uu for these sounds, but if it works for them, great.
By the way, one way to say two in Yurok is nee’eeen – that’s a lot of e’s in a row! That is one of the forms of two you would use to count human beings, body parts, utensils, etc. If you’re counting round things, rocks or money, two would be no’oh, for worms, ropes, etc. it’s na’ak’, for plants it’s na’ak’wo’n, for days it’s na’amoyhl, and so on. Quite simple really 🙂 – see the Yurok numbers page for more details.
Are there any other languages you know of that have words with three or more of the same letters in a row?
One example I can think of is eeee ee [iː.iː iː], which means ‘she will eat’ in Manx. Another is jäääär [ˈjæːˌæːr], which means ‘the edge of the ice’ in Estonian.
Examples in Yurok include:
- cheeek = money
- Cheeek Cheeek ‘O’l = mythical home of money
- cheeek mehl’ee’eekew = money snake
- meeekee = both sides
- ‘o chweeegeen = place in the mountains where one regularly sits and prays, telephone
- wee’eeet = this, that, those
Sources:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Algic_languages
https://linguistics.berkeley.edu/~yurok/lexicon.php
https://linguistics.berkeley.edu/~yurok/text-details.php
Language Quiz
Jack Of All Trades
If someone described you as a jack of all trades, would you see it as a compliment or an insult?
These days, this phrase might refer to someone who has some ability in a variety of things, but doesn’t excel at any of them. Or in other words, a generalist with superficial knowledge / ability in various areas, rather than a specialist who focuses on becoming expert at one thing.
The earliest known version of the phrase in English, Jack-of-all-trades, appeared in print in 1618 in Geffray Mynshul’s book Essayes and Characters of a prison and prisoners in the following passage:
Now for the moſt part your porter is either ſome broken cittizen, who hath plaid Jack-of-all-trades, ſome pander, broker, or hangman, that hath plaid the knaue with all men, and for the more certainty his embleme is a red beard, to which ſacke hath made his noſe couſin german.
Key: ſt = st, ſ = s, moſt = most, cittizen = citizen, hath = has, plaid = played, knaue = knave, noſe = nose
A longer version of the phrase is jack of all trades, master of none – the master of none part, or something similar, was added in the 18th century. It first appears in the Gnomologia: Adagies and Proverbs; Wise Sentences and Witty Sayings, Ancient and Modern, Foreign and British as:
Jack of all Trades is of no Trade
Sometimes the phrase is made less insulting by adding an extra part: Jack of all trades, master of none, but better than a master of one, or Jack of all trades, master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one. These are modern additions to the phrase, although some people claim that the ‘original’ version included something like them [source].
Synonyms for jack of all trades include:
- generalist = a person with a broad general knowledge, especially one with more than superficial knowledge in several areas and the ability to combine ideas from diverse fields.
- polymath = a person with extraordinarily broad and comprehensive knowledge. From Ancient Greek πολυμαθής (polumathḗs – having learnt much).
- Renaissance man/woman/person
- factotum = a person employed to do all sorts of duties, a general servant, a person having many diverse activities or responsibilities. From Latin faciō (do, make) & tōtum (everything).
- sciolist [ˈsaɪəlɪst] = one who exhibits only superficial knowledge; a self-proclaimed expert with little real understanding. From Late Latin sciolus, a diminutive of scius (knowing).
- multipotentialite = a term coined by Emilie Wapnick in 2015 to refer to people with many interests and creative pursuits. See: https://puttylike.com
Here are some equivalent phrases in other languages:
- 万事通 [萬事通] (wànshìtōng) = jack of all trades, know-it-all: “10,000 things expert” (Chinese)
- duizendpoot = a person of many talents; a centipede: “1,000 leg” (Dutch)
- touche-à-tout = jack of all trades: “[who] touches everything” (French)
- 何でも屋 = (nandemoya) generalist, jack of all trades: “anything-er” (Japanese)
- hombre orquesta = one-man band, factotum: “man orchestra” (Spanish)
Are you a generalist, or more of a specialist?
I’m more of a generalist with a variety of interests, skills and knowledge. For me, one language is never enough, and neither is one instrument, one type of music, or one type of juggling or other circus skill.
Sources
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_of_all_trades
https://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/jack-of-all-trades.html
https://english.stackexchange.com/questions/408782/is-jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none-really-just-a-part-of-a-longer-proverb
Buttery Donkeys
In my Italian lessons today, I learnt the word burro, which means butter. In Spanish, the same word means donkey, and I decided to find out more about these words.
Burro [ˈbur.ro] (butter) in Italian comes from Old French burre (butter), from Latin būtȳrum (butter), from Ancient Greek βούτῡρον [bǔː.tyː.ron] (butter), from βοῦς (boûs – cow) and τυρός (turós – cheese) [source].
Words from the same roots include butter in English, boter (butter) in Dutch, buerre (butter) in French, and βούτυρο [ˈvu.ti.ɾo] (butter) in Greek [source].
Related words and expressions in Italian include:
- burrificàre = to churn (cream, to make butter)
- burroso = buttery
- imburràre = to butter, grease with butter
- butirro = butter (for cooking)
- avere le mani di burro = to be butter-fingered [source]
Incidentally, in England a buttery can refer to a room for keeping food or beverages, a storeroom, or a room in a university where snacks are sold. While in Scotland, particularly in Aberdeen, a buttery is a savoury bread roll (see photo above), also known as a rowie, Aberdeen buttery, Aberdeen roll or rollie [source].
The Spanish word burro [ˈburo] means stupid, pig-headed, donkey, racehorse, also-ran, stubborn fool, sawhorse or swing [source]. The same word with similar meanings is also found in Catalan, Galician and Portuguese [source].
It comes from borrico (donkey, a stubborn, lazy, or stupid person), from Latin burricus (small horse), from burrus (red, reddish-brown), from Ancient Greek πυρρός (purrhós – flame colored, red-haired, red, blushing), from πῦρ (pûr – fire, lightning, fever), Proto-Hellenic *pāwər, from Proto-Indo-European *péh₂wr̥ (fire, spelt [grain]) [source].
Words from the same roots include burlap (a very strong, coarse cloth), fire, purge, pyre, pyromancy (divination by fire) in English; πυρ (pyr – fire) in Greek; vuur (fire, heater, lighter) in Dutch, and fona (spark) in Portuguese [source].
Related words and expressions in Spanish include:
- burrero = horse-loving, race-going, mule/donley driver, coarse person, horse-lover
- burro de agua = big wave
- burro de carga = workhorse, dogsbody, beast of burden, drudge, pack mule
- burro de planchar = ironing board
- lomo de burro = speed bump
- salto de burro = leapfrog
- ponerse burro = to dig one’s heels in, be pigheaded
- caerse del burro = to admit defeat
- no ver tres en un burro = to be as blind as a bat
- trabajar como un burro = to work like a dog / horse [source]
Snub Nosed Simians
The other day I came across the word scimmia in my Italian lessons and wondered where it comes from. It’s rather unlike words for monkey in other Romance languages, such as mono in Spanish, macaco in Portuguese, maimuță in Romanian, and singe in French.
Scimmia [ˈʃim.mja] comes from Latin sīmia (ape, monkey, imitator), from sīmus (snub-nosed, flattened, splayed), from Ancient Greek σῑμός [siˈmos] (snub-nosed, flat nosed, steep, uphill, bent in, hollow, concave), the origins of which are uncertain [source].
Words from the same roots include simian (monkey-like, ape-like) in English, jimio [ˈxi.mjo] (ape) in Spanish, símio (ape, monkey, simian) in Portuguese, simi (simian) in Catalan, and singe (monkey, ape, foolish man) in French [source].
Related words and expressions in Italian include:
- scimmiesco = monkey-like, ape-like, simian
- scimmione = gorilla, ape, a clumsy and brutish person
- scimmiottare = to mock, make fun of, mimic, ape
- scimmiottamento = aping, mimicry
- scimmiotto = small or young money, friend, pal [source]
Incidentally, the origins of the English word monkey are uncertain. It may come from monk, or from Middle Low German Moneke, the name of the son of Martin the Ape in Reynard the Fox, a collection of medieval Dutch, English, French and German fables.
Or it may be related to the Late Middle French monne (monkey), from Italian monna (monkey), from Old Spanish mona (female monkey, from mamona, from maimón (a type of monkey with a prehensile tail), from Arabic مَيْمُون (maymūn – baboon, mandrill). Mono in Spanish comes from the same roots, as does maimuță in Romanian [source].
Mushrooms Hats
An interesting Spanish word I learnt recently is hongo [ˈonɡo], which means fungus, fungal growth, mushroom, toadstool, bowler hat and derby. As this appears very different to words for mushroom in other Romance languages, such as champignon in French, I wondered where it came from.
Hongo comes from Old Spanish fongo (mushroom), from Latin fungus (mushroom, fungus, fungal infection, candle-snuff, dolt, idiot), from sfungus, from Ancient Greek σπόγγος (spóngos – spongue, tonsil), the origins of which are unknown [source].
Words from the same roots include sfungjer (sponge) in Albanian, սպունգ [spunɡ] (sponge) in Armenian, sponge in English, spugna (sponge, drunkard) in Italian, and сунѓер [ˈsuɲɟɛr] (sponge) in Macedonian [source].
Related words and expressions in Spanish include:
- hongo venenoso = toadstool
- nube de hongo = mushroom cloud
- sombrero hongo = bowler hat [source]
- valer hongo = worthless – colloquial, vulgar – used in Chile [source]
Other words from mushroom in Spanish include:
- champiñón, which means (button) mushroom, fungus or mold, and was borrowed from French champignon (mushroom, fungus) [source]
- seta, which is used in Latin America to mean mushroom, and possibly comes from Ancient Greek σηπτά (septá – lost things), from σηπτός (septos) [source]
- callampa = mushroom or umbrella, and in the plural, callampas, shanty town. It’s used in Bolivia, Chile, Ecuador and Peru, and comes from Quechua qallampa or Aymara qallampa [source]
The French word champignon (mushroom, fungus, fungal infection, accelerator pedal), comes from Vulgar Latin *campāniolus (mushroom, lit. ‘grows in the field’), from Late Latin campāneus (of or pertaining to the fields), from Latin campānia (plain, countryside surrounding a city, cultivatable land), from campus (open flat level ground, a plain, a natural field), from Proto-Indo-European *kh₂ém-po-s, from *kh₂emp- (to bend, curve, smooth) [source].
Incidentally, the English word mushroom comes from Middle English muscheron (mushroom, fungus, toadstool, a surname), from Anglo-Norman musherum, from Old French mousseron / moisseron (mushroom), possibly from Old French mosse/moise (moss) [source].
Battering Down the Door
Yesterday I learnt that a French word for door knocker is heurtoir. I wondered if this is related to the English word hurt. Let’s find out.
Heutoir [œʁ.twaʁ] means door-knocker, knocker, (rail) buffer or bumper. It comes from heurter (to hit, collide with, upset, clash, strike, knock), from Middle French heurter, from Old French hurter (to ram into, strike, collide with), from Frankish *hūrt (a battering ram), from Proto-Germanic *hrūtaną, *hreutaną (to fall, fly, move quickly), from Proto-Indo-European *krew- (to fall, beat, smash, strike, break) [source].
Related words and expressions in French include:
- heurt [œʁ] = collision, bump, clash
- sans heurts = smoothly
- heurté = jerky, uneven
- heurter de plein fouet = to crash headlong
- heurter qn de front = to clash head-on with sb
- s’heurter (à) = to collide, crash into, bump, bang into, come up against
- entreheurter = to hit one another [source]
Words from the same Proto-Germanic roots include rout (to beat, strike, assail) in Scots, hrjóta (to snore) in Icelandic, and aürtar (to knock, bump against) in Catalan [source].
So where does the English word hurt come from?
It comes from Middle English hurten (to injure, wound hurt), from Old Northern French hurter (to ram into, strike, collide with), either from Frankish *hūrt (a battering ram), or from Old Norse hrútr (ram [male sheep]), from hjǫrtr (stag), from Proto-Germanic *herutuz (hart, male deer), which is related to the English word hart (a male deer) [source].
So heurtoir and hurt might be related, but we can’t be sure.
What’s that noise?
Did you know that the Italian word rumore doesn’t mean rumo(u)r, as you might expect, but rather noise, rumble, sound or clatter. Is it connected to the English word rumo(u)r? Let’s find out.
Rumore comes from Latin rūmōrem (vague noises, rumours), from rūmor (rumo(u)r), hearsay, gossip, rustle, murmur, a murmuring, the voice of the people), from Proto-Italic *roumōs, from Proto-Indo-European *h₃rewH- (to shout, to roar) [source]. A related word in Latin is rūmusculus (idle gossip) [source].
Related words and expressions in Italian include:
- rumoreggiare = to rumble, clamo(u)r
- rumoreggiare = to rumble, clamo(u)r
- rumorista = noisemaker, foley artist
- rumoroso = noisy, loud
- rumorosamente = noisily
- antirumore = anti-noise, soundproof, noise-cancelling, noise-reducing
- un rumore sordo = a thud
- rumore bianco = white noise
- rumore di sottofondo = background noise
- la notizia ha fatto molto rumore = the news aroused great interest [source]
Words from the same Latin roots include rumoer (rumo(u)r, noise) in Dutch, rumo(u)r in English, rumeur (rumo(u)r) in French, rumur (rumo(u)r, continuous noise) in Portuguese, and rumor (rumo(u)r, murmur) in Spanish [source].
Words from the same PIE roots include řvát (to yell, roar) in Czech, реветь [rʲɪˈvʲetʲ] (to roar, bellow, howl, cry, weep) in Russian, and possibly ωρύομαι [oˈri.o.me] (to howl) in Greek, and rāvis (hoarseness) in Latvian [source].
So the English word rumo(u)r is related. It means “A statement or claim of questionable accuracy, from no known reliable source, usually spread by word of mouth.” or “Information or misinformation of the kind contained in such claims.”. It used to mean a report, new, information in general, fame, reputation, clamour, din or outcry [source].
It comes from Middle English rumour (rumour, gossip, hearsay; a report, tidings, news; loud shouting, noise, din; outcry of protest or disapproval; a disturbance, stir, tumult) [source], from Old French rimur (noise [produced by an army on the march]), from Latin rūmōrem [source].
In Old English, the word hlýd meant rumo(u)r or the noise made in discussing an event [source], and also noise, sound, tumult, disturbance or dissension. Another word for rumour was hlísa, which also meant sound, fame or glory [source].
Doorgetting
Do you ever walk into a room and forget why you’re there? Or have you ever opened the fridge or a cupboard and couldn’t remember what you were looking for?
This is a common phenomenon known as the Doorway Effect or location updating effect and can occur when you’re thinking about or trying to remember too many things, get distracted, and particularly when you move from one location to another that differs significantly. This apparently primes our minds to receive something new. So if you want to avoid this effect, it’s best to keep whatever you need to remember at front of your mind.
This morning, for example, I put my laundry in the washing machine, then forgot to start it. I did remember later, but before then, I got distracted preparing my breakfast. It’s time to hang up the laundry now. I’ll be right back, unless I get distracted and start doing something else, which is quite likely.
Right, where was I? I did get distracted and did some lessons on Duolingo (2,600 days today, by the way), Anyway, sometimes I put bread in the toaster, or a pan on the cooker, and forget to turn them on. These memory lapses aren’t the result of going through doors into other rooms, or passing through portals, but they involve thinking and doing too many things and getting distracted.
I came up with an alternative name for this effect today – doorgetting, a portmanteau of door and forgetting, inspired by a video on TikTok by Jess Zefarris about Words for Things That Don’t Have names. These are also known as word fugitives, a term coined by Barbara Wallraff, an author and editor at The Atlantic Monthly, or sniglets – any word that doesn’t appear in the dictionary, but should – coined by American comedian Rich Hall. If they don’t enter into common usage, they are also known as occasionalisms, protologisms or nonce words.
An example she gives is serenquipity, for when you accidentally say something witty and quotable, or in other words, come up with a serendipitious quip. Another is pandephonium, for the confusion experienced when a phone rings and no one nearby is sure if it is theirs.
More on this phenomenon:
https://www.sciencealert.com/scientists-find-the-doorway-effect-could-be-real-but-only-in-overloaded-brains
https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20160307-why-does-walking-through-doorways-make-us-forget
https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/why-walking-through-doorway-makes-you-forget/
https://www.livescience.com/17132-forget-walked-room-doorways-blame-study-finds.html
Here’s a song I wrote about this some years ago called What Did I Come In Here For?:
What did I come in here for?
Something important I’m sure
Something to fetch or find
Oh what did I come in here for?
What did I come in here for?
I forgot as I came through the door
I cannot remember, I cannot recall
Oh what did I come in here for?
What did I come in here for?
This has happened at times before
I need a clue to get out of this stew
Oh what did I come in here for?
What did I come in here for?
What did I come in here for?
Just let me think and I’ll get it
Ah, that’s what I came in here for