Category: Welsh (Cymraeg)

Gwrthryfelwyr

By Simon

The other day while listening to a news report on Radio Cymru about the situation in Libya, the word gwrthryfelwyr caught my attention. It means rebels and is made up of the elements gwrth (against, counter), ryfel, from rhyfel (war), and wyr, from gwŷr (men). I’d heard the word before and knew what it meant, but hadn’t really thought about the individual parts in this way, and this lead me to thinking that the meaning and etymology of Welsh words is often easier to work out than that of English words as many of them are made up of native roots with meanings I know or can guess.

I also thought about the etymology of the rebels and realised that it actually has a similar structure to gwrthryfelwyr, though from Latin roots. I knew that the bel part had something to do with war and appears in such Latin phrases as antebellum (before the war) and postbellum (after the war), and guessed that in this context the re- prefix might mean against. I checked this and found that rebel comes from the Old French rebelle, from the Latin rebellis (insurgent, rebellious). from rebellare (to rebel, wage war against) from re- (opposite, against or again) and bellare (wage war), from bellum (war).

The Welsh prefix gwrth- appears in many Welsh words, including:

– gwrthblaid – opposition (party) [“against/counter party”]
– gwrthbrofi – to disprove, refute [“counter prove/test”]
– gwrthdyb – paradox [“counter opinion/surmise/conjecture/notion”]
– gwrthdystio – to protest [“testify against”]
– gwrthgorffyn – antibody [“counter little body”]
– gwrthneidio – to rebound [“counter jump”]

Peithiau a maip

By Simon

Recently I heard about a series of programmes on S4C (the Welsh language TV channel) presented by the naturalist Iolo Williams, in which he visits Native American communities and learns about their cultures, languages and the natural world around them. The programmes are in Welsh, apart from odd bits of English and Native American languages, and subtitles in English or Welsh are available.

In the programme I just watched, which focuses on the Lakota, Iolo uses a number of Welsh words I hadn’t heard before:

– paith (pl. peithiau) = prairie
– ci y paith (pl. cŵn y paith) = prairie dog
– meipen (pl. maip) = turnip – in this context a type of wild food found on the prairie – psoralea esculenta*
– toddi = to melt – here it is used in the context of taming wild horses

Other Welsh words for prairie include gwastatir (“level land”) and gweundir (“grass (?) land”).

The English word prairie comes from the French prairie, from the Old French praerie, from Vulgar Latin *prataria, from Latin pratum (meadow – originally “a hollow”). The existed as prayere in Middle English, but fell out of use, and then was reborrowed from French to describe the American plains, where immigrants wagons where known as “prairie schooners” [source].

*Psoralea esculenta – a herbaceous perennial plant native to prairies and dry woodlands of central North America with an edible starchy tuberous root. English names for the plant include tipsin, teepsenee, breadroot, breadroot scurf pea, pomme blanche, and prairie turnip, and the Lakota name is Timpsula [source].

Diolch i Siôn Jobbins am yr awgrym

Remembering words

By Simon

When learning a language one challenge is to memorise the vocabulary, and to be able to use it when you need it. I’ve tried a number methods to do this: repetition, flash cards, SRS, associations and so on. A method for learning individual words that works quite well for me involves making associations between the sounds of the new words and familiar words, especially if I build mental pictures to illustrate the words and their meanings. For example, a Welsh word for field is maes, which sounds like mice, so I picture a field full of mice.

Another way to remember things that I came across the other day involves giving inanimate objects character and life. The example I found discusses using this method to remember where your keys are:

[…] imbue your keys with character and life: this is my preferred gambit. Think of your keys as a living, breathing creature, and you’ll automatically know where they are.

Our brains like living things, it seems, they have more time for them.

Specifically, I deliberately experience my keys as a needy brood of motherless koala-bears on a hoop. When I drop them somewhere, my mind quickly wonders if they’re warm and comfortable, away from predators, in need of some amusing noises from their owner.

The location they’re in thus immediately gains my interest and attention, so I remember it automatically.

After reading this I started wondering whether you could do the same for words – endowing words for inanimate objects and abstract concepts with life and character might make them more memorable. You could also give masculine or feminine characteristics to nouns as appropriate. For verbs maybe you could picture conjugations as accessories – hats, scarves, gloves, bags, etc.

Snídanĕ - Czech word for breakfast

I haven’t actually tried this yet, but will give it a go and let you know if it helps.

The image on the right is a possible way to remember the Czech word for breakfast (snídanĕ) with the breve over the e filled with breakfast cereal and milk.

Have you tried this memory trick, or similar ones?

Ceathairéad téadach

By Simon

Oíche Shathairn chuaigh mé chuig cheolchoirm san ollscoil leis Ceathairéad Benyounes, ceathairéad téadach de chailíní óga bunaíodh i 2007 nuair a bhí na comhaltaí ag déanamh staidéir ar an Coláiste Ríoga Ceoil an Thuaisceart (Royal Northern College of Music) i Manchain.

Sheinn siad píosaí leis Hayden, Webern agus Beethoven, agus bhí siad go hiontach ar fad. Bhí sé cinn de na píosaí leis Webern an-ghearr, neamhthonúil agus beagán aisteach, ach dá ainneoin sin bhí siad suimiúil.

Pedwarawd llinynnol

Nos Sadwrn mi es i i gyngerdd yn y prifysgol gan Pedwarawd Benyounes, pedwarawd llinynnol merched ifanc y sefydlwyd yn 2007 pan roedd y aelodau yn astudio yng Ngholeg Brenhinol Cerdd y Gogledd (Royal Northern College of Music) yn Manceinion.

Mi ganon nhw alawon gan Hayden, Webern a Beethoven, a roedden nhw yn wych dros ben. Roedd chwech o’r alawon gan Webern yn fyr iawn, yn ddigywair ac yn ryfedd, ond er hynny roedden nhw yn ddiddorol.

Telyn a Gaita

By Simon

Heno mi es i i gyngerdd wych yn y prifysgol gan Siân James, cantores a thelynores o Ganolbarth Cymru a Anxo Lorenzo, pibydd o Alisia. Roedd yn ardderchog dros ben.

Mae llais hyfryd iawn ‘da Siân, ac mae hi’n canu’r delyn a’r piano yn wych hefyd. Roedd dau ddyn yn cyfeilio hi – roedd un yn canu’r allweddellau a’r piano, ac yn canu, a roedd un arall yn canu chwibanau, y ffidil a’r accordion. Cerddorion dawnus iawn oedden nhw. A dweud y gwir, yr albwm Cymraeg cyntaf y brynes i oedd Distaw gan Siân James, ac wrth gwrando ar ei chaneuon, mi syrthies i mewn cariad gyda’r iaith Gymraeg, ac ar ôl hynny ro’n i’n awyddus i ddysgu’r iaith.

Mae Anxo Lorenzo yn dod o Alisia yng ngogledd-orllewin Sbaen. Mae e’n canu’r facpib Galisieg, neu gaita (de foles) yn yr Alisieg, a’r chwibanau. Yn cyfeilio e oedd dyn arall o Alisia sy’n canu’r bouzouki (boswcî?), a dyn o Iwerddon sy’n canu’r ffidil. Roedden nhw’n canu alawon o Alisia ac o Iwerddon yn angredadwy o dda ac yn gyflym dros ben. Mi glywes i’r facpib Galisieg o’r blaen – roedd dyn o Wcráin yn canu nhw un waith pan ro’n i’n yn Iwerddon – ond dw i erioed wedi clywed rhywun yn canu nhw mor gyflym a mor dda, ac roedd rhai o’r synau oedd yn dod oddi wrthynt yn hollol syfrdanol.

Bellies, bags and bellows

By Simon

Yesterday a friend asked me whether bellyache was considered rude or vulgar, and whether tummy ache or stomach ache were preferable in formal conversation. I thought that the word belly might be seen as vulgar and/or informal by some; that stomach ache might be better in formal situations, and that tummy ache tends to be used by and with children. Would you agree?

Belly comes from the Old English belg (bag, purse, bellows, pod, husk), from the Proto-Germanic*balgiz (bag), from the PIE base *bhelgh- (to swell), which is also the root of the Old Norse belgr (bag, bellows) and bylgja (billow); the Gothic balgs (wineskin), the Welsh bol (belly, paunch), the Irish bolg (abdomen, bulge, belly, hold, bloat), and the Latin bulga (leather sack). The English words bellows, billow, bolster, budget and bulge also come from the same root [source].

In English belly came to refer to the body during the 13th century, and the abdomen during the 14th century. By the late 16th century its meaning had been extended to cover the bulging part or concave convex surface of anything. In the late 18th century some people in England decided that belly was vulgar and banished it from speech and writing – replacing it with stomach or abdomen. [source].

Christmas

By Simon

Nadolig Llawen
Joyeux Noël
聖誕快樂
Nollaig shona doibh
¡Feliz Navidad!
Nollick Ghennal
Bo Nadal
Nollaig chridheil
メリークリスマス
Buon Natale
Frohe Weihnachten
Bon Nadal
Veselé vánoce
and Merry Christmas!

Sniaghtey

By Simon

Sniaghtey er Straid William, raad ta mee cummal ayns Bangor

V’eh ceau sniaghtey dy trome oie Jerdein as Jeheiney shoh chaie, as ta yn sniaghtey foast ayn ayns shoh nish. Ta yn sniaghtey aalin, as t’eh feaee er yn oyr nagh vel mooney gleashtanyn er ny raaidyn, agh t’eh feayr agglagh, as ta yn shiaghtey riojit stooalt er ny pemmadyn as er ny cooyl-raaidyn, as t’eh shliawin agglagh fo chosh. Cha ren mee fakin wheesh da shiaghtey rieau ayns Bangor.

Golwg o Fae Hirael a'r Carneddau efo eira arnynt

Eira

Roedd hi’n bwrw eira yn drwm Nos Iau a Ddydd Gwener yr wythnos diwetha, ac mae’r eira yn dal i fod yma bellach. Mae’r eira yn hyfryd, ac mae hi’n dawel oherwydd nag oes llawer o draffig ar y strydoedd, ond mae’n oer ofnadwy, ac mae’r eira wedi ei rhewi yn galed ar y palmentydd ac ar y strydoedd cefn, ac mae’n lithrig iawn dan droed. Dw i erioed wedi gweld cymaint o eira ym Mangor.

Colds, streams and rivers

By Simon

A snow-covered Siliwen Road in Bangor

It’s rather cold here at the moment with daytime temperatures not much above freezing, and nighttime dropping to -10°C (14°F) or even -20°C (-4°F) in places. As a result, some of the snow that fell last week has frozen solid and been trampled down on pavements and ungritted back streets making them decidedly icey and slippery.

I also have a cold at the moment, so I thought I’d look into how to say “I have a cold” in a number of languages. In French it’s “Je suis enrhumé” or “I am enrhumed”. Enrhumé comes from rhume (cold), which comes from the Old French reume, from the Latin rheuma, from the Greek rheuma (stream, current, a flowing), from rhein (to flow), from the Proto-Indo-European *sreu- (to flow). The Proto-Indo-European *sreu- is also the root of the Irish sruth (stream, river), the Welsh ffrwd (stream) and the Polish strumyk (brook). [source].

The Czech word for cold rýmu appears to be spring from the same source – mám rýmu is “I have a cold” by the way – as does the English word rheumatism. You can also say jsem nachlazený for “I have a cold” in Czech, which has a similar structure to the French phrase – “I am colded” or something like that.

In Welsh you don’t have a cold but rather a cold is on you: mae annwyd arna i, and the other Celtic languages use the same structure, “Is cold on/at me”: tá slaghdán orm (Irish), tha ‘n cnatan orm (Scottish Gaelic), ta feayraght/mughane aym (Manx).

In German “I have a cold” is Ich bin erkältet (“I am becolded?”), with erkältet coming from kalt (cold).

In Mandarin Chinese you say 我感冒了 (wǒ gǎnmào le) or “I catch cold [change of state particle]”.