Yexing

Have you yexed recently? If you have, what did you do to stop your yexes?

Hiccough

The word yex [jɛks] sounds like a made-up word you might find in a children’s book or linguistic experiment – the wug is yexing, yesterday it yex__. However, it is, in fact, a genuine English word, though archaic. As a noun, it means a hiccough / hiccup, belch or burp, and as a verb, it means to hiccough, belch or burp [source].

The verb to yex comes from Middle English yexen [ˈjɛksən] (to hiccough, belch, yawn, gulp, swallow convulsively, gasp, sob) from Old English ġiscian [ˈjis.ki.ɑn] (to sigh, sob), from Proto-West Germanic *giskōn (to gasp, yawn, gulp), from Proto-Indo-European *ǵeys- (gaping, cracked) [source].

The noun yex comes from Middle English yexe / ȝ(e)oxe (the condition of having the hiccoughs), from Old English ġeocsa [ˈjes.kɑ] (sobbing, hiccough), which comes from the same roots as the verb [source].

Words from the same roots include ye(e)sk (a hiccough, belch, the hiccoughs) and to yesk (to hiccough, belch, vomit) in Scots [source], and yux (to sob, weep loudly) in Yola [source].




Mouchard

One of the words that came up last night in the French conversation group was mouchard, which means an informant and various other things. I thought I’d look into it in more detail here.

Histoire de moucharder

Mouchard [mu.ʃaʁ] can mean:

  • a snitch, grass or tell-tale (police informant) – also known as indic, cafteur or cafard in French
  • a bug (hidden microphone)
  • a spyhole or peephole
  • a tachograph (device that records the distance and time traveled by a vehicle)
  • (a piece of) spyware
  • a spyplane
  • a black box, flight recorder

It comes from mouche (a fly, bullseye, historically: a spy employed by the ancien régime to seek out subversive ideas) and -ard (pejorative suffix), from Middle French mousche (a fly), from Old French m(o)usche (a fly) [source], from Latin musca (a fly, an inquisitive or prying person) , from Proto-Indo-European *mu(s)/*mews- (fly). Words from the same roots include midge in English and Mücke (midge, gnat, crane fly, mosquito) in German [source].

Related words include:

  • mouchardage = informing, grassing, ratting
  • moucharder = to rat (on), to tell tales

The French word mouchard has also been borrowed into English, and means an undercover investigator or a police spy, especially in a French-speaking country, or an inverted compass hanging above the captain’s bed. The activity of such people is known mouchardism [source].

Other fly-related expressions in French include:

  • faire mouche = to hit the bullseye, to come off, to hit home, to hit the nail on the head
  • mouche de coche = back-seat driver (person who pretends to be useful by offering unsolicited advice or by running around without actually doing any work)
  • pattes de mouche = scrawl, chicken scratch (illegible handwriting)
  • prendre la mouche = to get offended, to get in a huff, to fly off the handle [source]

Are there interesting equivalents of mouchard in other languages?




Pouring Rain

Yesterday it rained quite a lot here in the UK, and rather heavily at times. This got me thinking about the saying it never rains but it pours.

Pouring Rain

This expression means unfortunate events occur in quantity or misfortunes never come singly. A related saying is bad things come in threes. Fortunately this wasn’t the case for me yesterday, apart from a few minor delays and disruptions on the trains I took [source].

It never rains but it pours can apparently also refer to good things happening all at once or to excess, though I suspect the negative meaning is more common. It first appears in It Cannot Rain But It pours, an article by Jonathan Swift and Alexander Pope in Prose Miscellanies, and in It cannot Rain but it Pours OR, London ſrowʼd [strowed] with Rarities, a book by John Arbuthnot published in 1726 [source].

There are similar expressions in other languages, including some that refer to rain:

In some languages such sayings mean something like ‘misfortunes do not come alone’ or ‘a misfortune seldom comes alone’:

Here a few other examples that don’t mention rain or misfortune:

  • Ar ein skriðan er lopin er onnur væntandi = when one landslide is over, another is waiting (Faroese)
  • Sjaldan er ein báran stök = rarely is a single bear alone (Icelandic)
  • Nuair a thig air duine, thig air uile = when it befalls one, it befalls all (Scottish Gaelic)




Bons mots

What connects bons mots with mottos and muttering? Let’s find out.

bon mot test 2 stitch-out

A bon mot [bɒn məʊ / bɑn moʊ] in English means a clever saying, a phrase or witticism or a witty riposte in dialogue. It comes from French bon mot [bɔ̃ mo], which means the same thing, or literally “good word”. You can also find bon mot in Dutch, Indonesian and other languages [source].

The word mot [mo] in French means a word, note, (short) message or the answer to an enigma. It comes from Middle French mot (word), from Old French mot (word), from Late Latin muttum (a mutter, grunt), from muttīre (to mutter, murmur, talk quietly) from muttiō (to mutter, murmer), which is of onomatopoeic origin and signifies “make a mu-noise” [source].

Other French expressions featuring mot include:

  • demi-mot = a hint (“half-word”)
  • fin mot = the real story, the (whole) truth (“final word”)
  • gros mot = dirty word, swear word (“coarse / rough word”)
  • grand mot = a strong word, strong term (“big-word”)
  • demi-mot = a hint (“half-word”)
  • mot d’esprit = a witticism, bon mot (“word of spirit / wit”)
  • dernier mot = last word

Other words from the same roots possibly include mot (word) in Catalan, motto and mutter in English, mote (nickname, motto) in Spanish, Motto (motto, slogan) in German and motto (philosophy, motto, watchword, byword) in Polish [source].

By the way, the plural of bon mot in French is bons mots, but in English it can be bon mots or bons mots. What about in other languages?




Pages, Pagans & Peasants

Are the words page, pagan, peasant and pheasant related? Let’s find out.

pages

Page [peɪdʒ], as in ‘one of the many pieces of paper bound together within a book or similar document’ (other meanings are available) comes from Middle French page, from Latin pāgina (a written page, leaf, sheet), from Proto-Indo-European *peh₂ǵ- (to fasten, fix), which is possibly related to the idea of papyrus sheets fastened to each other, or from fastening / imprinting letters [source].

Words from the same Latin root include página (page) in Spanish, página (page, website) in Portuguese, pagina (page) in Italian, page (page, web page, page boy) in French, and pagină (page) in Romanian [source].

Have a busting belting burning ballsy brilliant #Beltane 🔥

Pagan [ˈpeɪɡən] (Relating to, characteristic of religions that differ from main world religions; savage, immoral, uncivilized, wild.) comes from Middle English pagan, from Latin pāgānus (rural, rustic, unlearned), from pāgus (district, region, countryside, countryfolk) from Proto-Italic *pāgos, from Proto-Indo-European *peh₂ǵ- (to fasten, fix) – perhaps related to fixing boundaries [source].

Words from the same Latin roots include paúl (moor, heath) and peño (foundling) in Spanish, pegno (pledge, security, token) in Italian, pau (stick, wood) in Portuguese, pale, impale, pole, peasant, travail and travel in English, and pow (country, land, region) in Cornish [source].

So page, pagan and peasant are related. What about pheasant?

Pheasant

Pheasant [ˈfɛzənt] (A bird of family Phasianidae) comes from Middle English fesa(u)nt (pheasant), from Old French faisan (pheasant), from Latin phāsiānus, (pheasant), from Ancient Greek φασιανός (phasianós – pheasant), from Φᾶσῐς (Phâsĭs), a river in Greece from where, it was supposed, pheasants spread to the west [source].

So pheasant is not related to page, pagan or peasant.

Incidentally, in Old English, one word for pheasant was worhana, which was also written uuorhana or morhana. It comes from the Proto-Germanic words *wurzô (grouse) and *hanō (cock, rooster), and is possibly related to the modern English word moorhen [source].




Omphaloskepsis

Do you engage in omphaloskepsis?

Mimicking UK politicians navel gazing

Omphaloskepsis [ˌɒmfələˈskɛpsɪs] is a very useful word that means the comtemplation of or meditation upon one’s navel, or in other words, navel-gazing. Another definition is ‘Ratiocination* to the point of self-absorption’. It comes from Ancient Greek ὀμφαλός (omphalós – navel) & σκέψις (sképsis – perception, reflection) [source].

*Ratiocination = Reasoning, conscious deliberate inference. Thought or reasoning that is exact, valid and rational. A proposition arrived at by such thought [source].

Related words include:

  • omphaloskeptic = One who contemplates or meditates upon one’s navel; one who engages in omphaloscopy. Likely to, prone to, or engaged in contemplating or meditating upon one’s navel.
  • omphalomancy = Divination by means of a child’s navel, to learn how many children the mother may have.
  • omphalopsychic = Related to or characterised by navel-gazing (omphaloskepsis). Someone who engages in omphaloskepsis, a navel-gazer.

The Modern Greek word ομφαλοσκοπία (omfaloskopía – the action or effect of omphaloscopy. A method of divination involving the examination of the umbilical cord) is also related [source].

The Ancient Greek word ὀμφαλός (omphalós – navel, umbilical cord, anything navel-shaped, centre) comes from Proto-Indo-European *h₃m̥bʰ-l̥- (navel), from *h₃nebʰ- (hub, navel) [source].

Words from the same roots include umbilicus (navel, middle, centre), navel and nave in English, ombelico (navel, umbilicus) in Italian, nombril (navel, belly button, middle) in French, umbigo (navel) in Portuguese, buric (navel, belly button) in Romanian, naaf (hub, nave) in Dutch, Nabel (navel, belly button, centre, middle) in German, and imleacán (navel, belly button) in Irish [source].

By the way, I found the word omphaloskepsis while putting together a Celtiadur post about words for navel, centre and middle in Celtic languages. It appears in the definition of the Welsh word bogailsyllu [bɔɡai̯lˈsəɬɨ / boːɡai̯lˈsəɬi], which means to comtemplate one’s navel, or to engage in navel-gazing or omphaloskepsis [source]. If you are omphaloskeptic, then in Welsh you are bogailsyllol (given to navel-gazing) [source].

The bogail [ˈbɔɡai̯l / ˈboːɡai̯l] in bogailsyllu means navel, umbilicus, belly button or afterbirth, a boss on a shield, a knob a stud, a nave, the hub of a well, middle or centre [source]. It should not be confused with bogail, which means vowel.

Words that mean navel-gazing in other languages include: navlepilleri in Danish, navelstaren in Dutch, nombrillisme in French, Nabelschau in German, and navlebeskuer in Norwegian [source].




Ideophones

What does the word tututu make you think of?

Zaanse Schans windmill gears

It’s an ideophone from Bebe (Naami) a language spoken in parts of Cameroon, and to a speaker of Bebe, tututu suggests the sound of a grinding mill.

Other ideophones in Bebe include:

  • kpaŋkpaŋkpaŋ = the sound of a bell
  • gbaaaŋ = the sound of a door closed with force
  • waaa = the sound of a running water
  • ŋgɔɔɔŋ = the sound of a lion roaring
  • ŋaaaŋ = the sound of a baby crying

Source: Naami Orthography Guide, by Grace Tabah and Mkounga Tala Blaise

You can find out more about Bebe on Omniglot – this is a new page I added today, and finding out about the ideophones in this language inspired me to write this post.

An ideophone is a member of the class of words that depict sensory imagery or sensations, evoking ideas of action, sound, movement, color, or shape. They are also known as mimetics or expressives. Unlike onomatopoeic words, which imitate sounds, ideophones can also indicate action, state, intensity, smell, colour or manner. They are common in such languages as Japanese, Korean, Tamil, Yoruba and Zulu.

Here are some examples:

  • がぶがぶ (gabugabu) = gulping, guzzling, gulp gulp – Japanese
  • きびきび (kibikibi) = briskly – Japanese
  • しとしとと降る (shitoshito to furu) = to rain or snow quietly – Japanese
  • 가물가물 (gamulgamul) = (light) fading away into the distance, moving away faintly, in a blurred manner – Korean
  • 버글버글 (beogeulbeogeul) = boilingly while spreading in all directions; bubblingly while spreading in all directions – Korean
  • 꽁냥꽁냥 (kkongnyangkkongnyang) = lovey-dovey – Korean
  • படபட (paṭapaṭa) = fluttering – Tamil
  • புசுபுசு (pucupucu) = soft and bushy, fluffy – Tamil
  • விறுவிறு (viṟuviṟu) = energetically, lively, spicy – Tamil
  • khazimula = shining brightly – Zulu
  • qaqa = bursting – Zulu
  • jabula = happily – Zulu

Does your language have ideophones, or anything similar? Do you have any interesting examples?

For more information about ideophones see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ideophone
https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Category:Korean_ideophones
https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Category:Japanese_onomatopoeias




Immersion

After 7 weeks in China, I’m now back in the UK. I arrived home on Monday afternoon, after a long journey via Zurich and Manchester.

Sok Kwu Wan, Lamma Island / 南丫島索罟灣
Sok Kwu Wan, Lamma Island / 南丫島索罟灣

I spent 6 weeks staying with friends in Zhaoqing (肇庆) in Guangdong Province in the south of China, then spent a week in Hong Kong. I visited places I’d been to before in Hong Kong, and some ones that were new to me, and generally had a good time. Hong Kong felt very busy and crowded, after the relatively relaxed Zhaoqing. I was last there in 1998, and it has changed quite a bit. There seems to be a lot more of everything – people, traffic, buildings, roads, railways, etc, but I did find some things that were familiar, like the Star Ferries and the trams.

Beilingshan Forest Park / 北岭山森林公园
Beilingshan Forest Park, Zhaoqing / 肇庆北岭山森林公园

While in Zhaoqing, I explored the local area and saw some beautiful places, but didn’t visit any other parts of China.

Few of the local people in Zhaoqing speak English, so I had use Mandarin or Cantonese, and interpret for one of my friends, who doesn’t speak much Chinese at all. This helped me to improve both languages. However, most of my interactions with locals were short and about everyday topics, such as buying things, ordering food in restaurants, or asking directions. I did have longer conversations about various topics with some people.

Being immersed in a language, as I was, doesn’t necessarily mean that all aspects of your ability in that language will improve. You need to make an effort to speak to people about all sorts of things, to read the language as much as you can, to watch TV and films in the language, and to listen to radio, podcasts, audiobooks or other material. It also helps to make some local friends who you speak to regularly, and/or find a language exchange partner or tutor.

My Mandarin is maybe at an A2/B1 level, and my Cantonese is at an A1 level at the most. I can have long conversations about various things in Mandarin, and short ones about basic things in Cantonese. Generally, people understand me and some said that it was unusual to meet a Westerner who speaks Chinese well. When reading Chinese texts, there are always characters that I’ve forgotten or don’t know yet, but I can usually get a good idea of what the texts mean.

While I was in Hong Kong, I tried to speak Cantonese with people as much as possible, unless they preferred Mandarin or English. I was able to communicate at a basic level and understand at least some of what I heard.




Beware your shoes!

Here are a few more signs I spotted recently that have ‘interesting’ English versions.

Sign on escalator

I saw this sign on an escalator in the local college campus. If you want to use this escalator, you have to hold the child and the pet, and if you haven’t got them, just borrow or hire them.

The use of handcarts is banned. Handcart is a translation of 手推车 (shǒutuīchē), which, based on the picture, refers to pushchairs, baby buggies, strollers, or whatever you call them. It can also mean trolley, cart, barrow, handcart or wheelbarrow, and literally means “hand push vehicle”. Other translations of pushchair / stroller include 推车 (tuīchē) and 童车 (tóngchē).

You have to watch your sreps to keep safe while waking in the mall, and you must keep your children from plating or running.

Here’s another sign from a different escalator.

Sign on escalator

Here you must hold the child’s hand, carry he pet in your arms, hold the handrail and beware your shoes. The use of carts is banned, the bulky item is forbidden in, and you should not play, slapstick, climb or look at the phone. Most people seem to look at their phones all the time, so the last one is asking a bit much, perhaps.

Rather than slapstick, 打闹 (dǎnào) could also be translated as to quarrel, squabble, be rowdy, play boisterously, or engage in horseplay. So no rowdy or boisterous playing, squabbling or quarrelling with horses on the escalator.

Sign on escalator

This sign, in Chinese, English, Japanese and Korean, forbids you from striding. A better translation might be “No Climbing on/over the fence”. Are the Japanese and Korean versions well-translated?

Here’s a sign I spotted on a litter bin / trash can:

Sign on litter bin

If you have any disposable tableware, old pottery (who carries old pottery around with them?), pericarp skins or the dust, you can dispose of it/them here. I’ve no idea where ‘pericarp’ came from – a better translation of 果皮 (guǒ​pí) would be ‘fruit peel’, and 瓜壳 (guāké) would be better translated as ‘melon rind’.

Merry Christmas, by the way, if that’s something you celebrate.

Language skills in just 10 minutes a day with Ling




Godfathering

When I explain to people I meet here that I’m the godfather of my friend’s children, they don’t seem to understand, even though I do so in Chinese.


Me, my friend Malcolm, his mother-in-law and the little monsters (his daughters / my god-daughters)

One person asked me if I was Catholic or Protestant, and seemed to know that being a godfather has something to do with Christianity. I had trouble trying to explain it in Chinese, as I wasn’t entirely sure what being a godparent involved.

The Chinese translation of godfather I’ve been using is 教父 (jiào​fù), however, few people seem familiar with this term. 教父 (jiào​fù) is made up of (jiào​), which means to teach or class, and (fù), which means father. I think in this context might be an abbreviation of 教堂 (jiào​táng – church, chapel) [source]

Another Chinese translation for godfather is 代父 (dàifù) or ‘substitute father’.

According to TheFreeDictionary, a godfather is:

  • A man who sponsors a person at baptism.
  • One that has a relationship to another person or to something that is the equivalent of being a baptismal sponsor.
  • The leader of an organized crime family.

According to Wikipedia:

Within Christianity, a godparent or sponsor is someone who bears witness to a child’s baptism (christening) and later is willing to help in their catechesis, as well as their lifelong spiritual formation. In both religious and civil views, a godparent tends to be an individual chosen by the parents to take an interest in the child’s upbringing and personal development, and to offer mentorship.

Apparently you can only be a godparent to one child, and as my god-daughters haven’t been baptised, I’m not, in a religious sense, their godfather yet.

When I was young I went to our local (Church of England) church with my parents, and was christened and confirmed there, and went to church-aided schools from 5-16. So technically, I am an Anglican Christian. However, I stopped going to church at the age of 16, and these days, only go to occasional weddings, funerals and Christmas services.

There is apparently a Chinese tradition of matching a child with a relative or family friend, who becomes the 义母/义父 (yì​mǔ/yì​fù) or ‘voluntary mother/father’, or the 干妈/干爹 (gān​mā/gān​diē) or ‘dry mother/father’. These terms also mean adoptive mother or father, in the sense of traditional adoption, i.e. without legal ramifications. This is a non-religious tradition, usually involving a childless friend or relative, and helps strengthen ties between families.

Alternatively, a family friend might be known as 叔叔 (shū​shu) – uncle, or 阿姨 (ā​yí) – aunt. Other words for uncle and aunt are available in Chinese [source].

Language skills in just 10 minutes a day with Ling

To me, being a godparent means that you’re a good friend of the family, and get on well with their children. I spend quite a bit of time with my god-daughters and their parents, particularly recently as I’m currently staying with them. The little ones can be monsters at times, and angels at others, but I love them anyway.