Posts tagged with "mblagálaí"

Deir seachtar (7) i nGaeilge gur “Gael-Mheiriceánaigh” iad ach deir 2805, “I’m (an) Irish-American,” de réir cuardach Google

Posted by róislín No Comments
May 28 2009
Well, that should be an attention-getter!  Not that Google searches are “bun agus barr an scéil” (the be-all and end-all) of information gathering, but this search result does provide food for thought.  This article shows the results of searches limited by quotation marks, so only the phrase sought is reported.  In other words, the results don’t include, for example, all instances of “American,” only those preceded by “Irish-.”   
On May 24, in the entire cyber-universe searched by Google, a total of seven sources were found that used a statement with the speakers saying, in the first person, that they were “Gael-Mheiriceánach.”  This is a compound word based on “Gael” (an Irish person, mostly used now in a cultural sense) and “Meiriceánach” (American).  You can say:

 Is Meiriceánach mé. I am an American.

Is Gael-Mheiriceánach mé. I am an Irish-American (note m -> mh change after “Gael-“)

 “Gael-Mheiriceánach” can also be used as an adjective to say that a person, thing, or concept is “Irish- American,” as opposed to the person being an Irish-American.  For example, “Is nós Gael-Mheiriceánach é a bheith ag díol béigeal uaine le Lá Fhéile Pádraig a cheiliúradh” (It is an Irish-American custom to sell green bagels to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day).

To say “I am Irish (of Irish nationality), most people would say “Is Éireannach mé.”  A future blog will discuss the compound word “Éireannach-Mheiriceánach,” which is also in use, with a slightly different nuance from “Gael-Mheiriceánach.”   No “hits” at all were found searching for the phrase “Is Éireannach-Mheiriceánach mé” (I am an Irish-American) so, for current purposes, we’ll emphasize the word “Gael” to  express Irish-Americanness.  Very few people would officially label themselves solely as a “Gael” these days, but there are many useful related terms and phrases, such as:

Glór na nGael (www.glornangael.ie), lit. “The Voice of the Gaels,” a group dedicated to promoting the Irish language

Fíorghael, lit. “a true Gael,” a term typically used to mean an “over-the-top” Irish person, and, since 2005, a comic Irish-medium short directed by Macdara Vallely and produced by Zanzibar Films (www.imdb.com/title/tt0887139)

In this cuardach Google (Google search), there were only seven self-identifying statements of Irish-American ethnicity given in Irish but there were about 2800 where the speaker says “I am Irish-American” or “I am an Irish-American” in English.  Now juxtapose that with the fact that about 40 million Americans claim some Irish heritage.  Certainly, many millions of these may think of themselves as being Irish-American without necessarily saying so in a manner searchable by Google, but we can use the search as a rough benchmark of identity.  About one in every 5.5 million Irish-Americans bothers to say in a searchable manner and in Irish, “Is Gael-Mheiriceánach mé.”  And that’s assuming that the seven statements collected are actual facts about the speakers; they could just be statements created for other purposes, such as examples of grammar using the Irish verb “is.”  But with a sampla (sample) of seven, I’ll just go ahead and claim all of them for present purposes.

About 400 times as many people say, online and searchably, that they are Irish-American in English as say it in Irish.  That’s the 2805 as opposed to the seven!

Next comparison, na Franc-Mheiriceánaigh (French-Americans), who number about 11 million, about a quarter the number of Irish-Americans.  How many of these write online, searchably and in French, that they themselves are French-American, again as of May 24th?  172, including both the masculine and feminine forms.  That’s 24 times the number who proclaim their Irish-American identity in Irish. 

How many of these 11 million say they are “Franco-“ or “French-American,” writing online in English? 118.  So, when it comes to discussing identity, the French-Americans are much more likely to state their ethnicity in French than in English.  I know it’s a small sample and should be repeated on different dates and with different search engines for better accuracy, but nonetheless, the treocht (trend) is clear.  If anyone would like to rerun the search and report the results in the “comments” section, bheadh suim agamsa agus ag na léitheoirí go léir ann, tá mé cinnte (All the other readers and I would be interested, I’m sure). 

What does this tell us?  There are about four times as many Irish-Americans as French-Americans in the U.S. but they are far less likely to talk about their identity in Irish than the French-Americans are to discuss their identity in French.  Yes, I know–we all know–that French has been a much more accessible language than Irish for decades, perhaps centuries.  But, finally, perhaps we could say, it’s a good time to be learning Irish, talking about one’s identity in Irish, and generally giving the Irish language a cibearphróifil (cyber profile) that’s at least comparable to that of other languages.  So, chugam bhur mbarúlacha, le bhur dtoil.  So, send me your opinions, please.  And yes, one of these days, I’ll tackle the compound identities many of us have on this side of the lochán (pond). 

Pronunciation Tip a hAon: m -> mh (say: v): Remember that after the words “Gael” or “Éireannach” used as prefixes, there is softening (lenition) of the next consonant.  Traditionally, these words are written in Irish with fleiscíní (hyphens).  They used to be in English, as well, but that technicality seems to be dying out, as we see in phrases such as, “I am Irish American” or “He is African American.”  At any rate:

Gael-Mheiriceánach: GAYL-VER-ik-yawn-ukh (Irish-American)

Éireannach-Mheiriceánach: AYR-un-ukh-VER-ik-yawn-ukh (Irish-American)

Those identities would be opposed to the phrases “Gael Meiriceánach” or “Éireannach Meiriceánach,” which would mean “an American Irishman,” normally understood as an Irish person residing in the U.S.  Among other places, this distinction is carefully noted in the book, The Legend of Being Irish-American, edited by David Lampe, which includes “Irish-American” and “American-Irish” poetry.  Please note that in Irish there is no fleiscín (hyphen) or lenition in the phrases “Gael Meiriceánach” or “Éireannach Meiriceánach,” since here, “Meiriceánach” is the adjective, modifying “Gael” or “Éireannach.” 

Sometimes, looking around at printed English, I think that I’m one of the last people on earth who believes in the use of hyphens and apostrophes.  If you’re of the same mind-set, maybe you could send a comment and let me know you agree!  Our slogan, perhaps: Fleiscíní agus Uaschamóga Abú!, which could loosely be translated as “Up hyphens and apostrophes” or “Hyphens and apostrophes rule!”  Why are they important?  As the Irish example above shows, they can change meanings!

 Pronunciation Tip a Dó: The Irish verb “is,” while it may look like the English verb “is,” is pronounced differently; it rhymes with “hiss” or “miss,” while the English “is” rhymes with “fizz” or “quiz.” 

 Bhur mblagálaí – Róislín

 

 

 

 

 

 

�

An Bliosán Gréine (Jerusalem Artichoke): Ainm Contráilte i mBéarla ach “Neamhchontráilte” i nGaeilge (An English Misnomer but Irish “Non-Misnomer”)

Posted by róislín 6 Comments
May 25 2009

Tamaillín ó shin (a little while ago, May 6 to be specific), I hinted at a discussion of the term “Jerusalem artichoke” in Irish.  And why not?  It’s suimiúil (interesting) on several counts: “luibheolaíocht” (botany), “logainmníocht” (toponymy), “sanasaíocht” and “bréagshanasaíocht” (etymology and pseudo-etymology), “cócaireacht” (cooking), and “eolas contráilte”(misinformation), to name just a few.

 

You may recall that the key to understanding “Jerusalem artichoke,” the English name of the plant Helianthus tuberosus, is the Italian word “girasole” (turning toward the sun, heliotropic).  It has nothing to do with Jerusalem, which, if it were part of the phrase, would be “Iarúsailéim.”  So, if we look at the word’s history, its sanasaíocht, or in this case, bréagshanasaíocht, we find that the “girasole” element eventually became Jerusalem, through similarity of sound and the fact that so many plant and animal species are, in fact, named after geographic locations, accurate or not.  Stranger things have been known to happen, soundwise, like “sparrowgrass” for “asparagus,” or toponymically, as in Philadelphia Cream Cheese, which originated in New York, or “Panama hats,” which are traditionally made in Ecuador. 

 

Whether the plant actually turns to the sun or not, I will not question here, not being a luibheolaí (botanist), but if anyone can vouch for the plant’s héileatrópacht (heliotropism), I’d be interested to hear about it.   Or maybe we should ask the aptly named character, Miss Heliotrope, from the children’s book, The Little White Horse, which is one of my all-time favorites, and to judge from her recent endorsement, one of J. K. Rowling’s childhood favorites also.  Of course, Miss Heliotrope’s name comes from the color of her nose, which matches the color of the heliotrope flower, and not from any sun-turning propensities, but, sin Á.B.E.

 

Irish, I’m pleased to say, drops the ainm contráilte (misnomer) and simply uses “bliosán gréine” (sun artichoke) for H. tuberosus.  We’re still left with calling this sunflower an “artichoke” but that much seems irreversible.  Apparently its root is edible and tastes something like artichoke, hence the connection.  Can’t say I’ve ever tried it though.  Agus tusa?  Ar ith tú fréamh bliosán gréine riamh? (And yourself?  Ever eat Jerusalem artichoke root?).  If so, I’d be interested to know how it was prepared and I’m sure other readers would be interested too.  That might even help us work on one particularly ambiguous bit of Irish vocabulary, the verb “bruith,” which can mean to boil, bake, broil, grill, or become burnt, usually from the sun, not culinarily, which would typically use the verb “dó” (to burn).  So that’s our cócaireacht connection. 

 

The globe artichoke (Cynara cardunculus), the plant we normally eat, is actually member of the feochadán (thistle) family.  Thistles and their Celtic connections could easily occupy a full blog, so I’ll save that for blag éigin eile. 

 

Pronunciation tip:

sanasaíocht: SAHN-uss-ee-ukht; the “kh” here represents the guttural “ch” sound, like German has in “Buch” or “Achtung” and as in the word “Chutzpah.”

bréagshanasaíocht: remember the “bréag” (false) part is a prefix, which softens or “lenites” the initial “s” of sanasaíocht to “sh,” and that means that the original initial “s” is not pronounced at all!  The “sh” sound in Irish is pronounced like an “h,” so here we have BRAYG-HAHN-uss-ee-ukht.  You may have learned that the first syllable is stressed in pronouncing Irish words, which is true, but the rule changes for compound words.  They typically have equal stress on the prefix and the first syllable, which I indicate here with ceannlitreacha (capital letters). 

 

You can also see this pronunciation rule for prefixes in effect in words like “seanchapall” (old horse), which would be represented as SHAN-KHAHP-ull, with the first two syllables having equal emphasis.  More examples of that later, i mblag eile, if you let me know that “comhfhocail” (compound words) are of particular interest.  Bhur mblagálaí – Róislín

Logainmneacha Ceilteacha agus Náisiúntachtaí a Sé: Celtic Place Names and Nationalities 6 – Cornwall and the Cornish

Posted by róislín No Comments
May 22 2009

We’ve recently discussed the place names Albain, Éire, An Bhreatain Bheag, Oileán Mhanann, and An Bhriotáin.  Today we’ll turn to Cornwall.  Below you’ll find some examples of how to use the place name and how to indicate that a person or thing is Cornish.  Cornwall is called “Corn na Breataine” (horn of Britain) or sometimes “An Corn” in Irish. 

 

Cornach, a Cornishman or person.  Like the terms “Éireannach,” “Albanach,” “Breatnach,” “Manannach,” and “Briotánach,” it can be made feminine, “Cornach mná,” but, as I’ve previously mentioned, this form is rarely used.  The feminine form basically means “a woman Cornishman.” 

 

an Cornach, the Cornishman.  Cornach is also the adjective form.

 

 Some phrases with the place name “Corn na Breataine” include:

 

i gCorn na Breataine: in Cornwall

 

go Corn na Breataine: to Cornwall

 

muintir Chorn na Breataine: the residents of Cornwall

 

 In an interesting twist, the mineral cornwallite is “cornuaillít” in Irish, adapting the “-wall” suffix into Irish spelling. 

  

In a further interesting twist, the two main plant names that in English are designated as pertaining to Cornwall, Cornish heath and Cornish moneywort, lose the Cornish element in their Irish names, which are, respectively, “fraoch gallda” (lit. foreign heather – remember, the perspective is Irish here) and “pingin Dhuibhneach” (lit. penny from Corca Dhuibhne, a region in Co. Kerry).  I’ll let the Cornaigh and the Duibhnigh hash out the plant’s true origins among themselves – our concern here is terminology!

  

“Cornish hen,” the term I thought would be a “shoo-in” to exemplify Cornishness in popular culture and the lenition of feminine singular adjectives in Irish grammar, turns out to be a “shoo-out.”  The situation’s not straightforward at all.  One might think we’d simply use “cearc” (hen) plus “Chornach” (the feminine form of the adjective).  Mícheart (incorrect)!  First of all, this cearc goes by at least four other names (Cornish game hen, poussin, Rock Cornish hen, and Rock Cornish), thickening the plot considerably.  Secondly, it may refer to a specially bred chicken, slaughtered young and designed for one serving.  It isn’t a game bird and can be male or female, so isn’t always a “hen.”  Furthermore, the French word “poussin,” sometimes equated with “Cornish hen,” has two meanings in English, being the “Cornish game hen” in U.S. English and referring to an even smaller and younger bird in U.K. English.  So aside, from noting that the “Rock” element refers to Plymouth Rock, highlighting Cornish Rock’s American origin, I will respectfully bail out of this attempt to Gaelicize Cornish hens.  One might think that the Cornish hen was an indigenous breed, small in size to adapt to the rugged terrain in which it lived, like Kerry and Dexter cattle or Shetland ponies, ach ní mar sin atá sé (that’s not how it is).  Fascinating in their own right, those animals will be featured i mblag éigin eile. 

 

So what’s left to exemplify the adjective “Cornach” in context?  Our last place name feature added the tasty element of crêpes, the Breton specialty.  Although I don’t know of any North American bialanna (restaurants) specializing in Cornwall’s famous culinary creation, the Cornish pasty, we can at least offer the Irish name for it, pastae Cornach.  These pastries were stuffed with meat, potatoes and other vegetables.  They have a folded-over crust and were thus distinguished from pióga feola (meat pies).  Their shape supposedly made it safe for miners to eat their lunch, since they couldn’t always clean the coal dust, which might contain arsenic, off their hands.  According to tradition, the miners discarded the corner of the pastry, which they had touched with their fingers, saying it was for the “knockers.”  

 

 Yes, those are the same supernatural beings who loosely provided the inspiration for Stephen King’s The Tommyknockers.  They would warn miners of possible disasters, at least, one presumes, if you kept them well fed with pasty crusts.  One of these days, I’ll have to check King’s novel, to see if he feeds them properly!

 

And if you are in North America and want to sample pastaetha Cornacha (that’s the plural), you can find them at special events such as the Pasty Fest in Calumet, Michigan, and special church suppers in Cornish-settled parts of Pennsylvania, such as Bangor and Pen Argyl. 

 

 This finishes the series of Celtic place names and identities, at least for the modern period.  One of these days we’ll practice saying, “I am an ancient Gaul,” but for the immediate future, it will probably be more practical to work on phrases such as “Gael-Mheiriceánach” (Irish-American) or Gael-Cheanadach (Irish-Canadian) and to introduce such basics as “American” and “Canadian” in their unlenited forms.  Stay tuned!  – Bhur mblagálaí, Róislín

Mór? Críonna? or Sean? — Grandparents By Any Other Name!

Posted by róislín 8 Comments
Apr 9 2009

  I frequently get asked about the Irish word for “grandmother” or “grandma,” so children in Irish-American families can start using it as a pet name.  Sometimes the basic term “Grandma” has already been taken by one side of the family, so the other side may look for a different name, like “Nana” in English.  Most of the people who ask for this are the actual grandmothers, not the grandfathers, but in this blog, I’ll be an equal opportunity terminologist and assume that the male and female terms are of equal interest.  A Sheanaithreacha (grandfathers!) please take note!

   Let’s start with the formalities, “grandmother” and “grandfather.”  Most children don’t actually use these in talking with the actual grandparent but they’re useful in narrative and in general discussion.  There are three pairs of terms, each building on the words “máthair” (mother) and “athair” (father).  :

   seanmháthair, seanathair: based on the prefix “sean-“ (old)

   máthair chríonna, athair críonna: based on the adjective “críonna” (wise, prudent, aged).  Please note: despite the endearing bit of misinformation currently circulating on the Internet (sites will remain nameless), these terms do NOT mean “mother of my heart” and “father of my heart.”  Those phrases would be based on “croí” (heart), not “críonna” (wise).   

   máthair mhór, athair mór: based on the adjective “mór” (big, great).  I’ve mostly heard this term in Donegal. 

   For the more familiar terms, there are “Mamó” and “Móraí” for “grandma,” and “Daideo” for “grandpa.” 

   Using these words is one way that Irish words can be come part of a child’s life, and perhaps stimulate further study of the language later.   Needless to say, the terms can now grace mugaí (mugs), t-léinte (t-shirts), or léinte aclaíochta (sweatshirts, lit. “exercise shirts”). Or, for that matter, any other merchandise that allows you to send in customized text for printing. 

   One curious feature of all of these terms is that none of them are used to create the words “grandchild,” “grandson,” or “grand-daughter.”  So how do you do it?  Bhuel, ag bogarnach ar an aill sin (Well, hanging on that cliff), slán go dtí an chéad bhlag eile (goodbye until the next blog).   

 Bhur mblagálaí – Róislín

 
 

 

 

 

A Lán Lann – A Lot of Places (with the Suffix –lann)

Posted by róislín No Comments
Mar 15 2009

You may have noticed the recent WOTD, an bhialann, the restaurant, and you may recognize a keyword in this expression, “bia” (food). It’s helpful to know the suffix “–lann” also, since it is used to make dozens of words.

 

The suffix comes from the word “lann,” which has many meanings, including land, ground, building, or church. Its gender is feminine, which means that any noun based on “lann” will also be feminine.

 

Here are a few more:

amharclann, theater, from the root “amharc” (sight, vision)

pictiúrlann, movie theater, from “pictiúr” (picture)

 

dánlann, gallery, from “dán,” which most commonly means “poem” in Modern Irish but which can also mean art, craft, or gift, especially in the abstract senses. “Gailearaí” is also used for an art gallery.

 

Here are some that might have come into play as you celebrated St. Patrick’s Day:

grúdlann, brewery, from “grúdaigh” (brew, the verb). This gives us a whole “slua” (host or horde) of beer-related words, like “grúdaire” (brewer) and “grúdaireacht” (brewing). But beware of “grúdarlach” (swill or slops)!

 

drioglann, distillery, from “driog” (distill). This also gives us some occupational terms, such as “driogaire” (distiller) and “driogaireacht” (distilling).

 

On the literary side:

dialann, a journal, from the same root as the phrases Dé Luain, Dé Máirt (Monday, Tuesday, etc.), that is a somewhat archaic word for “day.” You’ve probably also seen “lá,” which is the ordinary word for “day.”

leabharlann, library, from “leabhar” (book).

 

And finally:

sólann, leisure center. This is a fairly new word in Irish, although its core word, “só” (comfort, luxury, joy) is traditional. It’s probably safe to say “Ní raibh sólanna ag na SeanGhaeil” (the Old Irish didn’t have leisure centers)!

 

cultúrlann, clearly from the word “cultúr” (culture). Two of the more well known ones in Ireland are the fairly new Cultúrlann McAdam Ó Fiaich, which is “i mBéal Feirste” (in Belfast) and Cultúrlann na hÉireann, which is “i mBaile Átha Cliath” (in Dublin). Cultúrlann na hÉireann is the headquarters of Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Éireann.

 

One caveat: As we find in English, Irish has a number of pairs of words that look alike but that have completely different meanings. There is another word “lann,” which means “blade” or “lamina.” Usually context will make it clear which word is meant. While the compound words mentioned above are all quite widely used, “lann” is not really that common in modern spoken Irish. There are other words that convey its basic meanings of land, ground, building and church. As for “lann” meaning “blade,” that’s not really that common in modern spoken Irish either, unless you’re discussing “claimhteoireacht” (swordsmanship) or “gaibhniú” (forging, metalworking) or some related topic.

 

And yes, there is a very new word in Irish, “blaglann,” meaning something like “blog place.” It’s not in the dictionaries yet, but has a grand total of 10 hits in Google, as of the day this was written, an dara lá déag de mhí an Mhárta (March 12).

 

Bhur mblagálaí – Róislín

Back to the Top