To address the perennial request for more pronunciation assistance, here are some more notes for the last blog.  Of course, this is just a samplóir, since to gloss the whole blog would end up being níos faide ná an blag é féin (longer than the blog itself). 

Feabhra [FYOW-ruh] February.  The “fy” sound in the transcript indicates the initial “f” sound in English words like “few” or “fumes.”  The cluster “eabha” is actually a typical spelling in Irish for the sound “ow” as in “ouch.”  You’ve probably already seen that in the word “leabhar” (book). 

maolán [MWEEL-awn or MWAYL-awn] a round-topped hill, a knob (as a geographic term)  This word is related to “maol” [mweel or mwayl], which means “bald” or “tonsured.” 

an choiligh Fhrancaigh [un KHIL-ee RANK-ee] of the gobbler (male turkey).  This is the possessive form of “coileach Francach” [KIL-yukh FRANK-ukh], gobbler, lit. “French rooster.”  In case you’re wondering where half the consonants went, in terms of pronunciation, the explanation is in the standard changes for the possessive form (lenition of the initial “c” and “f” and slenderization of the final “-ach” of both words, giving us the “ee” sound). 

iartharach [EER-hur-ukh] western.  This word is part of the iarthar – aniar — siar – thiar continuum.  I always figure the more related words you know, the easier it is to remember (and pronounce) all of them.  Iarthar [EER-hur], (the) West; aniar [uh-NEE-ur] from the west; siar [shee-ur] westward; thiar [hee-ur] in the west

i mo shuí [ih muh hee, silent “s”] sitting, lit. in my sitting

os comhair [oss KOH-irzh] in front of

breacadh [BR^zhAK-uh] dawning, lit. speckling, lightening.  The “r” of breacadh is slender, indicated here by the “zh,” since it’s almost impossible to indicate with regular roman letters.  There is no ready equivalent to this “r” sound in English; the best parallel I know is in Czech (!), as in the man’s name Jiří.  Not that I really know Czech, but I do know some Czech teachers and we’ve talked about this pronunciation issue. 

áthas [AW-huss] happiness.  If you’re new to the Irish language, please note that “happiness,” and most other emotions are “on” you in Irish.   The standard phrase for “I am happy” would be “tá áthas orm” [taw AW-huss OR-um].

torthaí [TOR-hee, silent “t” in the middle] results, fruits.  This is the plural of toradh [TOR-uh] (fruit). 

gnáthainm [GNAW-AN-yim] ordinary name

Bhuel, that’s about a blog’s worth of pronunciation notes.  More to follow. 

Inniu (an chéad lá de mhí na Feabhra) Lá Fhéile Bríde.  Today (the first day of the month of February) is St. Bridget’s day.

Tá mé faoi dhubh-iontas ag breathnú ar an uimhir de shuímh Idirlín atá ag cur síos ar Naomh Bríd agus a féile.   I’m amazed looking at the number of websites describing St. Bridget and her feast day. 

Thart fá 95,400 do “Lá Fhéile Bríde” agus 7,340 do “Lá ‘le Bríde.”   That’s not even including a search in English!  Of course, some may just be tagairtí gairide (brief references), but still the amount of activity is impressive. 

The details of her life are available in many forms from capsúlbheathaisnéisí (http://www.stbridgetofkildare.org/about.htm, mar shampla, ón scoil “St. Bridget of Kildare” sa bhaile Pacific, Missouri) to leabhartha (m. sh. Landscape with Two Saints: How Genovefa of Paris and Brigit of Kildare Built Christianity in Barbarian Europe, by Lisa M. Bitel) to name just a few, at the opposite extremes of length (a one-paragraph website and a 320 page book, admittedly dealing with a second major female saint as well). 

Given that there’s plenty to read elsewhere on her teaghlach (Christian mother, Celtic chieftain father), the míorúiltí associated with her, and her naofacht, this blog will concentrate on the basics: the pronunciation and grammar involved in the name of her feast-day, and the variations which occur.  Now if any of you want the secrets of how she made multiple dabhcha leanna (vats of ale) out of the ingredients for just one vat’s worth, I’m afraid the answer is “Níl a fhios agam.”  Perhaps some of those símeoirí and símeolaithe (zymurgists and zymologists) among you might have some better insight.  Like I said, níl anseo ach an “nitty-gritty.” 

There are at least half a dozen forms of her name out there, especially if you count both Irish and English.  The earliest is probably Brigid and at one time the medial “g” may have been articulated.  But for most of Modern Irish (several hundred years’ worth), the spelling was “Brighid” [breedj], with the “gh” silent.  Actually that “h” would have been represented sa seanchló (old print) with a ponc (dot) above the “g” but … scéal na bponcanna, sin scéal eile.  In the current spelling (devised in the 1950s), the silent “gh” is left out, the vowel is lengthened, and the spelling is simply “Bríd” [breedj]. 

“Naomh” [neev OR nayv] is the Irish word for “saint,” typically used for Irish saints.  “San” is typically used for non-Irish saints, although the distinction is not always hard and fast.  Either way, though, the word “naomh” generally does not appear in the names of Irish saints’ feast-days. 

“Féile” means “feast day.”  It is lenited (insert “h”) after the word “lá” since it is part of a double genitive (possessive) construction: day of the feast of Bridget. 

When lenited, the new initial letters are “fh” and they are silent.  So “fhéile” is pronounced “AYL-yeh.”  Given that silent initial consonant cluster, it’s a typical variation to just write “Lá ‘le Bríde,” with the apostrophe representing the rest of the word (f-h-é-i).  For those of you who may be among the myriad writers today who never or rarely use apostrophes in English, I can only plea their case in Irish.  They often represent major missing chunks of words (often silent) and it’s really important to include them in Irish.  I know there’s an Apostrophe Protection Society for the English language.  Maybe I should set one up for Irish!  Or maybe there is one already.  At any rate, however slack the rules may have become in English (see Lynne Truss, etc.), please don’t apply that slackness to Irish. 

Why?  If the apostrophe were left off here, we’d have a completely different word, the preposition “le” (with).  Then the phrase wouldn’t make since because we’d have an object of a prepositional phrase in the genitive case even though the preposition doesn’t take the genitive case!  If that’s more of a bolgam gramadaí than you’re interested, please just “slog siar é” (swallow it down) and then ignore, since the dea-scéal is that everyone writes their uaschamóga in Irish, don’t they?  So the confusion would never happen, right? 

Finally, for the name of the feast-day, the ending to the name “Bríd” is “-e,” which shows that it is possessive (genitive case).  That makes a major exception to normal Modern Irish rules for showing possession.  While “Bríde” has the genitive ending (-e), it doesn’t get lenited (no “h” inserted), even though lenition is usually a hallmark of the possessive forms in Irish (cóta Bhriain, Brian’s coat; banbh Shéamais, Séamas’s bonham, etc.).  The reason for this exception, such as it is, is that the name pertains to a saint.  So we see the same issue in Lá Fhéile Pádraig (aka Lá ‘le Pádraig). 

Which means that the good news is that all the grammar you learned in order to say “the day of the feast of Bridget” can also be applied to St. Patrick’s Day and other saints’ days.   Ailliliú!  Recycled grammar go deo! 

N.B. uaschamóg: lit. “upper comma,” i.e.  apostrophe.  In Irish, “apastróf” is more of a literary or rhetorical term, not a punctuation term. 

Now that we’ve seen the indirect relative clauses in the present tense, let’s look at similar sentences in the past tense. 

If that sounds like a bolgam mór gramadaí, you’re right.  But I think it’s the only way to really get to the heart of the matter regarding relative clauses.  Today, we’ll look further at the verb “to be” and also a couple of regular verbs.  Eventually we’ll work our way through the other ten irregular verbs Irish has, and move on to the future tense and na foirmeacha diúltacha.  “The good news?” you might ask, plea, beg, or cajole.  As we work through in the next few blogs, we’ll also stop for some fun stuff, like Lá Fhéile Bríde, Lá an Úitsigh (i Meiriceá), and Lá Vailintín.  Maybe even Lá na nUachtarán (i Meiriceá freisin), if the excruciating detail continues to excruciate past the middle of Feabhra.

First we’ll look at the verb “to be,” using its “raibh” form (not “bhí”).  You may remember the pattern:

Aimsir láithreach: Tá an lá go breá.  An bhfuil an lá go breá?  Tá, tá an lá go breá.

(The day is fine.  is the day fine?  Yes, the day is fine).

Aimsir chaite: Bhí an lá go breá.  An raibh an lá go breá?  Bhí, bhí an lá go breá. 

 (The day was fine.  Was the day fine?  Yes, the day was fine). 

The “raibh” and “bhfuil” forms of the verbs “bhí” and “tá” are called the “dependent forms.”  They are used in certain types of questions and also in indirect relative clauses. 

Remember the last blog’s examples:

Sin é an fear atá tinn.  That is the man who is ill. 

Sin é an fear a bhfuil a mhac tinn.  That is the man whose son is ill. 

Let’s look at that in the past tense:

Sin é an fear a bhí tinn.   That is the man who was sick.

Sin é an fear a raibh a mhac tinn.   That is the man whose son was sick. 

So, we’ve started with the verb “to be,” since it’s so widely used.  However, the irregularity of this verb “to be” somewhat disguises the pattern of what’s actually happening. 

If we look at our regular verbs (bris, tóg), the pattern will be clearer.  The particle “ar” (not “a”) is used before the regulars, and it is followed by lenition:

Bhris an fear an fhuinneog.  Sin é an fear a bhris an fhuinneog.  Sin é an fear ar bhris a mhac an fhuinneog.  (The man broke the window.  Direct: That’s the man who broke the window.  Indirect: That’s the man whose son broke the window). 

Thóg an slíbhín an t-airgead.  Sin é an slíbhín a thóg an t-airgead.  Sin é an slíbhín ar thóg a mhac an t-airgead. 

These forms with “ar” might look familiar.  If so, that’s because they look like the forms you’d use to ask questions in the past tense (Ar bhris sé an fhuinneog?  Ar thóg an slíbhín an t-airgead?)

Bhuel, sin é don bhlag seo.  Hard to make much of a cliffhanger ending to irregular verbs in indirect relative clauses! 

Iarradh orm níos mó a scríobh faoi chlásail choibhneasta [KHLAWS-il KHIV-nas-tuh].  Seo beagán eolais fúthu—ar ndóigh is féidir i bhfad níos mó a scríobh ar an ábhar.  I was asked to write more about relative clauses.  Here’s the tip of the iceberg—and this is just for starters. 

Tá dhá chineál acu ann, díreach agus neamhdhíreach [NYOW-YEER-ukh], agus sin an rud is tábhachtaí fúthu, sílim.  There are two types, direct and indirect, and I think that’s the most important thing about them.   

Rud eile tábhachtach—níl aon fhocal i nGaeilge atá go díreach cosúil le “who,” “whom,” ná “whose” mar a tá siad i mBéarla.  Cad atá ag an Ghaeilge ina n-ionad?  An focal “a”!  Another important thing—there’s no word in Irish that’s exactly like English “who,” “whom,” or “whose.”  What does Irish have instead?  The word “a” [pronounced “uh”]!

Please keep in mind that all the examples below are the relative “who,” not the interrogative “who,” i.e. for describing the subject further, not for asking who he/she is. 

Mar shampla den chlásal coibhneasta díreach, agus is “seanchapall oibre” de shampla iad seo:

“Who” in a “direct” relative clause, modifying the subject of the main (first clause): 

1. Sin é an fear atá tinn (That’s the man who is ill).  Where’s the “a” that all the fuss is about?  It’s prefixed to the verb “tá,” giving us “atá.”  Since the “a” is unstressed, the second syllable is the stressed part of this word, which sounds like “uh-TAW”).  Generally speaking, it’s only in present tense statements that the word “a” is actually attached to its verb.

Present tense?  Positive only?  Hopefully it’s not “an iomarca gramadaí” (too much grammar) but it’s hard to really be precise about this topic without some of the terminology. 

Here’s an example that’s san aimsir chaite (in the past tense).  Notice that the word “a” has now separated from its verb:

2. Sin é an fear a bhí tinn (That’s the man who was ill). 

And for good measure, and because the third time’s a charm (hopefully making all this grammar appealing), here’s an aimsir fháistineach (the future tense):

3. Sin é a fear a bheidh tinn (That’s the man who will be sick).  Of course, I shudder to think of who would actually have use for such a statement. 

In the future tense example, there’s a new thing to notice that either didn’t pertain or wasn’t so noticeable in the first two examples (present and past tenses)—tormáil drumaí–lenition (séimhiú). 

The future tense verb “beidh” [bay] changed to “bheidh” [vay] because of the word “a” (who).

In theory, that should have happened in the present tense too, but it doesn’t in the standard form of the modern language.  We simply still have the regular “t” of “tá.”  (A Mhuimhnigh, tá a fhios agam, tá bhur bhfoirm féin agaibh ach sin ábhar do bhlag eile, b’fhéidir).    

The example in the past tense is already lenited, so it doesn’t really attract our attention.  “Bhí” for the past tense is consistently lenited, no matter what comes in front of it. 

So it’s only when we get to the future tense that we really notice the lenition.  But if we had a series of regular verbs, we’d see the lenition more obviously.  Mar shampla, using the verb “goid” (steal):

Sin é an fear a ghoideann mart breá ramhar (gach lá nó go minic, srl.).

Sin é an fear a ghoid mart breá ramhar (aréir, inné, srl.).

Sin é an fear a ghoidfidh mart breá ramhar (amárach, srl.).  

Again, someone’s doing some prognosticating here, about who’s going to steal a fine fat “mart,” which is a fattened cow or bullock ready for slaughter or just slaughtered.  Sorry, a veigeáin agus a veigeatóirí, but the concept of the “mart” is a) an important part of a culture that at one time depended heavily on cattle-raising (and raiding, ach sin scéal eile) and b) the idea is loosely borrowed from a traditional folk rhyme, so it might resonate with some readers.   Anyway, an aimsir fháistineach is all about what will happen.  “Fáistine” means “a prophecy.”

And what happens to the myriad Irish verbs that happen to start with “l,” “n,” or “r,” or any other non-lenitables.  There’s no spelling change at the beginning of the words, just like there’s no “h” inserted at the beginning of phrases like “mo leabhar,” “mo nóta,” or “mo rothar.”  Just a few samples:

Léann an bhean an leabhar.  Sin í an bhean a léann an leabhar.

Léigh an bhean an leabhar.  Sin í an bhean a léigh an leabhar.

Léifidh an bhean an leabhar.  Sin í an bhean a léifidh an leabhar. 

So, that’s “blag a haon” ar an ábhar seo, and we’ve gotten as far as “a” for “who” for positive statements.  Stay tuned for “a” as “whom” and “a” as “whose.”  And for negatives (the man who isn’t, who won’t, who didn’t, etc.).  In fact, we’ll probably be on this topic for a good few blaganna, now that the request is in and the bosca Phandóra is oscailte!  Someday we’ll also treat the phrase “an té” (the one who) but for now, it’s best just to stick to “who” as such.