Contents

5 Peculiarities of the Japanese Language

By Em Watts

The language of vibes

By Patrice Northam, M. A

Covers as translation studies

By Simone Villano

Six Fun Dutch Words

By Michael Simpson

Learning Russian
By Alexandra Tennant

Swahili II: Cultural history

By Tom Priestly

Communication: Ancient and contemporary civilizations

By Farsetti Veronica

Before the Ages of Men

By Diana Vereris

How many languages are there?

By Cath Fincher

How Bosnian, Croatian and Serbian language is the same, but it is not the same language
By Mirela Omeragic

Being Comfortable with Comfterble

By Matheus Garone

Dis and Dat

By Matheus Garone

An exploration of Suppletion and its effect on language evolution.

By Edward Bedford
5 Peculiarities of the Japanese Language
By Em Watts

Have you ever wondered what’s behind the seemingly indecipherable mess of symbols that makes
up Japanese? Have you ever watched an episode of anime and wondered about the nature of the
language beyond “konnichiwa” and “arigato”? Well, if you’re even a little curious, here are a few
things that you might not know and, being a fellow language nerd, might interest you.

1- It has three writing systems.

These are two alphabets and an extensive list of characters imported from China. Hiragana,
alphabet number one, is for strictly Japanese words and grammatical particles. It was developed
as the “woman’s” alphabet, at a time when it was frowned upon for women to learn Chinese.
Katakana, alphabet number two, is used to write words borrowed from other languages (and has
other, minor uses, such as onomatopoeia and emphasis). It was originally developed by Japanese
monks who found themselves unable to write Chinese fast enough to keep up in lectures led by
scholars in China. Kanji are characters borrowed from Chinese and cannot be read phonetically,
but have hiragana readings. There are roughly two thousand kanji; and because they are not
comprised of ‘letters’ as normal words in other languages, their pronounciations cannot be
guessed. To learn to read fluently in Japanese, you simply have to memorize them.

2- The Kanji which make up whole words often describe the word meaning.
By rule of thumb for beginners, one kanji has one meaning. Therefore, if you smash more than one
kanji together, you’ll intuitively get a word which is some sort of combination of those meanings.
A sparkling example of this is the word for “Ambulance”, which is comprised of the kanji for
“Salvation” followed by that for “Rapid” followed by that for “Vehicle”.
Similarly:
“Clinical Thermometer” = “Body + Warmth + Measure”
“Aeroplane” = “Flying + Going + Machine”
The length of these words can even go as far as things like:
“Diet Building” (Japan’s parliament) = “Country” + “Meeting” + “Affairs” + “Building”
“Vending Machine” = “Self” + “Movement” + “Sale” + “Selling” + “Machine”
Convenient, right?

3- Japan-invented things sometimes have imported names.

Despite the fact that the Japanese have words for both and “curry” and “rice”, and the fact that
they invented a dish combining the two, “kare raisu” (pronounced ‘ka-reh raisu’) is the word used
for a meal of curry and rice.

4- Counting is ridiculously complicated.

Counting from one to ten (i.e. with cardinal numbers) is not the same as counting ten objects.
Similarly, counting ten pencils is not the same as counting ten days… or pieces of paper… or
meals… or anything else for that matter. The Japanese use “counters”, normally in the form of a
suffix appended to the number, to denote the nature of the object being referred to. For example,
5 pencils would be most literally translated as ‘5 long, thin things which are pencils’. Similarly, 5
sheets of paper would be ‘5 small-ish, quadrilateral flat things which are paper’... It’s more concise
in Japanese, fear not. However, sometimes, the counter can have absolutely no bearing on the
original number at all. The number one is pronounced “ichi”. When counting people, it is
pronounced “hitori”. Very useful…

5- Onomatopoeia plays a genuine role in Japanese vocabulary.

Onomatopoeia is mostly familiar to us Westerners as human imitations of animals or imitations of
violence or disaster (e.g. crack, splat, boom). Japanese, however, takes this concept to the next
level, not only using onomatopoeic words to describe sounds (for example, tatatata is the sound
of running very fast), but also for abstract feelings and actions. To be excited is “waku waku”, to be
nervous is “hara hara”, to walk slowly and sluggishly is “noro noro”.
If, like me, you have found some amusement in these little facts, delve a little deeper and you will
discover a language as immensely nutty as the culture which birthed it.
The language of vibes
By Patrice Northam, M. A

The easy dictionary definition of language is that it is a system of communication dependent on

signals, vocal or otherwise. To achieve communication, the signaler intends a response and the
responder must decode that intention and respond in a way that satisfies the signaler. Yikes! This
is based on the theory that language evolved to produce communication. Not everyone agrees
with this theory but for the purposes of this article, I’m going with the easy definition. Where
verbal and non-verbal language interface is a fascinating, mysterious realm. By non-verbal, I don’t
mean sign language or culturally-defined body language. I’m talking about the language of Vibes.

For example, you are talking with some colleagues when the boss enters the room. The energy
changes and a certain freeze descends. Not a word is said or a look exchanged yet everyone
scuttles back to their cubicle. Perhaps you’re waiting at the bus stop when a stranger sits next to
you. Understandably, you are uncomfortable because your personal space has been invaded.
Usually one of two things will happen: you stay put or you move. This depends on the feeling you
get about the stranger. What is that??

Assume you didn’t interact with the stranger. You have no visual, physical, auditory, or olfactory
clues about their gender, attire, skin color or any of the myriad things that form a first impression.
Unless you are completely oblivious to the person’s presence because you’re absorbed in a video
game on your iPhone, some inkling or idea settles in and you feel comfortable (this person is ok) or
you feel uncomfortable (something’s off about this person). How does this happen??

For one thing, you have structures in your brain that sort out feelings faster than a computer.
Specifically, the amygdala. The amygdala is widely accepted to be the hard-wired antenna, still
functioning at cave man level, that picks up and processes information quicker than you can form
a conscious thought. The amygdala is our very own inner-home security system. The feeling you
get that someone is watching you so you look up? That’s the amygdala doing its job. While
language is a multi-faceted complex of brain functions, I believe communication begins or breaks
down at the level of the amygdala. It’s important to acknowledge this power.

In my own experience, my first thoughts or reactions can be misguided by the primitive process of
ascertaining what is safe, neutral or a threat. The adrenaline spike caused by the amygdala when it
signals safe or not safe to the rest of my brain, can cause fear or panic and lead to behaviors of
aggression, hysteria or aversion. This is commonly known as the fight-flight-freeze response.

Let me tell you a story. About 25 years ago, I suffered from severe Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.
After hours of washing and showering, putting on makeup and nice clothes was not a priority. I
threw on the easiest, most available attire and fled the apartment knowing if I stayed, I’d start
washing again. I looked like the proverbial homeless junkie walking down the street, with soaking
wet hair and a hunted, haunted look in my eyes. I walked funny, too, because I had to step with
my left foot first and try to avoid cracks in the sidewalk. Every single person I encountered either
looked the other way or stared.
They made a wide berth so as not to accidentally brush my sleeve and “catch” whatever was
wrong with me. Was I a threat? Absolutely not. I was more helpless that at any other time in my
life. Were the passers-by mean? No. They just saw me, and their collective amygdalae screamed,
“NOT QUITE RIGHT!!” Before they ever had a conscious thought, their behavior took over.
Communication break-down.

This is when I picked up their vibes. I knew what they were thinking before they did because my
security system wasn’t firing. If the vibes could speak, they’d have said, “Gross, what’s wrong with
her, poor thing, stay away, etc.” Yet, not a single word was spoken, and I still got the message.

I’m nearly OCD-free now, and because of my experience, I’m more careful with my own
hypervigilant, primitive brain. When I get that jolt to the heart because my antenna is blaring, I
stop the partially-surfaced thought of “This person is…” with a reminder that my amygdala’s at it
again. With awareness, my new process is nearly instantaneous; and instead of aversion, I smile.
More importantly, sometimes the person smiles back, and it might be the only meaningful human
interaction he/she has had all day. Communication achieved.
Covers as translation studies
By Simone Villano

During the last few decades, more and more people have undertaken the impervious task that is
learning the Japanese language. Perhaps the single biggest reason for which so many people are
getting into the nihon-go is the extreme popularity of anime. Anyone who was born after the 80s
has at least some kind of idea of what anime are, and if you were born in the late 90s there’s a
very high chance that you’re familiar with some of the most famous anime of the last years, like
Evangelion, Death Note or One Piece. Now, if you know Japanese animation well enough, you also
know that many of these shows also have opening and ending songs.

They are In Japanese of course, being made by Japanese artists. Some anime, when they get
imported and dubbed, also receive brand new songs, but most of them do not. And besides, most
anime fans watch subtitled versions anyway, so they get to enjoy the original voice acting and, of
course, openings and endings. This has brought Japanese artists to enjoy some degree of
popularity here in the west as well, simply because of the songs they made for the shows. Where
am I going with this? Well, I’ll let this screencap explain it.

Just by typing in “*title song* English cover”

you’ll be flooded with results. Hundreds of
videos that can bolster millions upon millions
of views. And these are only the English ones,
not counting German, Vietnamese, Spanish
cover, which also make up a big chunk of this
phenomenon. Simple youtubers turned
professionals thanks to the amount of
popularity and support that their covers
brought them, making a living out of them.

What does this have to do with Linguistics?

It’s very simple: these are all translations of
the same song. You’ll find up to 30 (or even
more!) versions of the same song, and this,
from the point of view of translation studies,
is a perfect occasion to get into the branch of
song translations, and any aspiring translator
can learn very much by comparing these
covers to the original song and between them
as well.

But what is song translation? It’s a type of

For this one research, I was able to count up to THIRTY different
covers for the same song, and those are just the English versions.
work that requires the translators to know all
sorts of notions from the field of music, such
as tempo, notes and metrics. And this is not a
recent thing: just think for example of how
many versions of Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht (Silent night) exist in the various languages, or The
three Ravens, an English folk ballad, or the songs from the Disney movies. However, only recently
this type of translation has received attention from scholars, instead of being considered part of
poetic translation. One of the most prominent figures in this field is professor Peter Low, who
theorized what he calls the Pentathlon Principle.

According to this theory, when translating a song, one should keep in mind five principles that
work off of each other:

-singability, which is the relation between the text and the melody itself, and how much the text is
“performable”;
-sense, which is pretty much self-explanatory;
-naturalness, depending on things like word order and vocabulary;
-rhythm, influenced by number and length of syllables, as well as tempo and notes;
-rhyme, which is the trickiest of the elements to maintain, but at the same time the easiest one to
recreate

Low makes very clear that the best translations don’t come from stressing only one of these
aspects, instead, one should balance all of them, just like in Pentathlon the winner is not the one
who is the absolute best at one discipline, but the one who can make the most points across all
five of them. Flexibility is the “sixth” principle, or the base of the whole process, so to speak.

Now that we know the basis of song translation, we can take a look at the actual procedure. As an
example, I’m going to use a verse from Tokyo Ghoul’s opening “Unravel” because it’s a quite
famous song, so some of you might know it, and many youtubers covered it, thus offering many
different interpretations. “Interpretation” is a key word, since Japanese is not an easy language for
westerners to learn and understand, let alone people who don’t translate for a job or haven’t
studied Japanese. The biggest difficulty is probably the huge amount of Kanji, the elements that
compose one of the three Japanese alphabets. In fact, their exact number is unknown, but it’s
expected from an adult to know around 3000 of them

The verse that I chose is:

“変わってしまったことに paralyze 変え “Kawatte shimattakoto ni paralyze,
られないことだらけの paradise” kaerarenaikoto darakeno paradise”
I had this verse translated as simply as possible for explaining purposes, and it boils down to: “I’ve
changed, and I remained paralyzed, I can’t change this paradise”. Notice how there are two
English words as well, which are usually, but not always, kept the same.
Now let’s look at this exact verse in some covers:
“With changing inside I’m completely paralyzed,
remaining corrupt as I wish for paradise”
-[KY0UMI] - Tokyo Ghoul OP - unravel (FULL ENGLISH)

“This changes inside were enough to paralyze

I doubt I’ll survive in this hellish paradise”
-Tokyo Ghoul - "Unravel" (Rock Version) | ENGLISH Ver | AmaLee

“There’s no turning back now, I know I’m paralyzed

I’m trapped inside this paradise, and with this parasite”
-Tokyo Ghoul - "Unravel" - Full English cover - by The Unknown Songbird

“We live in a world someone else imagined

the ghost of what’s left of me all but vanished”
-UNRAVEL (FULL version - Tokyo Ghoul OP) - English opening cover by Jonathan Young

“Now that I've changed, I'm completely paralyzed

There's nothing I can change in my own little paradise”
-ENGLISH TOKYO GHOUL OP - unravel [Dima Lancaster]

“I know I changed and everyday it scares me paralyzed

I know that I can never change, my only paradise”
-unravel (English Cover)【JubyPhonic】ᴅᴊ-ᴊᴏ ᴅᴜʙsᴛᴇᴘ ʀᴇᴍɪ

Notice a pattern here? Let’s try to analyse these translations according to the five principles.
For the “singability” aspect, all of them do a good job in being performable, which is
expected because that’s what they aim for, and the same goes for rhythm and, mostly, for
naturalness. Sense, however, is not always the same: out of 6 versions, 4 stick with the
“change” aspect of the verse, one doesn’t even keep the English words, and some go as far
as having opposite meanings (for example, being stuck in paradise against longing for
paradise). Rhymes are almost always the same, but you can see that there are exceptions.

As a result, we can see that most of the translations prefer to sacrifice the original meaning
in order to get a text that is better fit to a song. Did they do a bad job, then? I don’t think so.
Personally, I enjoy these covers a lot, sometimes even more than the original song, and as
you can see from how much they’re popular, both on YouTube and streaming platform, I’m
not the only one.

As absurd as it might sound, translations (in this case) don’t have to respect the original text,
rather their job is to convey the same feelings and be enjoyable to listen to. If this has to be
achieved through the loss of the original meaning of the text, so be it. This is not always the
case though: for example, when translating songs from movies it’s more important to keep
a more faithful text, since they might hold meaning from the plot, or even be pivotal points
of the movie itself, which is the case for many Disney songs, for example.
All in all, it’s easy to see these videos just as their final product, but they are in fact the
result of a great effort and require skills, such as text-writing, creativity, and a great
knowledge of the target language, that go beyond the bare knowledge of just the source
language.
Six Fun Dutch Words
By Michael Simpson

I've always enjoyed the weird words in other languages that just make the language feel
more unique. Portmanteaus were my obsession when I was a young teenager (supernerd),
and, honestly, I couldn't get enough. Nowadays, I'm into phrases that couldn't quite be
translated into English or phrases that express a normally unexpressable emotion behind
them.

This month, for whatever reason, though, I am obsessed with Dutch. That's right, everyone;
in the midst of the Rushin' to Russian Challenge, my heart starts leaning towards the
almighty Dutch juggernaut.

Dutch, the official language of the Netherlands, is really not as hard as other languages in
western Europe. When spoken aloud or read, it feels like German was splattered with
English and nobody bothered to correct the mess afterwards. No offense to Dutch
speakers, of course. First impressions matter.
Yes, it feels like a weird language but weirdness is the spice of life. Let's look at five weird
Dutch words and what they do for us.

1. Pinderkaas
What goes well on a sandwich? Lunch meats? Slabs of beef? Here in my special corner of
the United States, I prefer the lovely taste of jam... and peanut cheese?

In the late 1800s to early 1900s, butter was only really used for products that actually
contained butter, which sadly did not include peanut butter. There was a mashed peanut
variety called 'pindadokun' which cut into slices like cheese. Thus, it was peanut cheese and
not peanut butter for the Dutch.

2. Kapsalon
This means hairdresser but also refers to a French fry snack that has meat, cheese, and
vegetables. It is named after the occupation of the first person who asked for it to be made
at a schwarma shop. "The kapsalon order" was served daily to the kapsalon who ordered it
and eventually caught on as a hit.

I would not necessarily recommend eating the kapsalon, however. It has a very high caloric
rating which meakes sense considering the number of fatty ingredients. One serving can
reach up to 1800 kilocalories. Better loosen that belt!

3. Ziekenauto
Sometimes words that we hear in a language sound vaguely familiar. Ziekenauto in Dutch
has that familiar ring to it. Wait a second... is this a... Dutch portmanteau? I think it is!
A combination of the Dutch words for sick person and car, it's not just an ill vehicle but an
ambulance. A few images of the vehicle that I saw in my research made the ziekenauto a
combination of a hearst and van, though that might just be my own imagination.
4. Mierenneuker
This one belongs in a special Silly Linguistics: After Dark segment. This word translates into
"someone who is intimate with ants." And by intimate... we mean, of course, to have sex
with, to do the dirty, to make passionancy.

However, it doesn't actually mean to do it with ants (as it would be physically impossible)
but means someone is very attentive to details. Wikitionary gives a loose translation of
"nitpicker" as well, so it does seem to have a negative connotation.

5. Brandslang
Let's play a game. What's long, has a mouth and spits water out of it? Okay, I'll just give you
the answer! It's a fire snake! I can already imagine the confused looks. The snake is
actually putting out the fire not made of, or using fire.

Firefighters in the Netherlands use the brandslang (or water hose) to do their difficult task
of fighting off fires. How often they need to do so, I am unsure, as I can assure you, I did not
look up fire statistics in the Netherlands.

6. Schildpad
Move over, Poliwhirl! There's a new water-type Pokemon in town. He's green, shielded and
a toad? His speed stat is also incredibly slow and he has no jumping ability? What kind of
toad is this?

Schildpad actually means turtle in Dutch. Surprised? I am not! German is the same way,
not having a true word for turtle but instead just using the word for toad. I wonder if they'd
invent a new word if they met a Galapagos turtle?

Dutch is just a fun language to mess around with; I wouldn't even necessarily call it weirder
than other languages but I certainly enjoy reading Dutch words and their translations.
Learning Russian
By Alexandra Tennant

For non-native speakers, and especially native English speakers, learning Slavic languages,
such as Russian, provides many challenges. Many people find the idea of learning the Cyrillic
alphabet to be rather daunting. While the Cyrillic alphabet is by no means easy to learn, it is
far from the hardest part of learning and speaking Russian. For me, Russian grammar was
frustratingly difficult due to the genders that apply to all nouns, aspects, verbs and cases
that had to be learned.

One of the first Russian grammar lessons I ever had dealt with the verb “to be.” In English,
this verb is used constantly in everyday speech, such as “I am, she is, they are,” etc. It is how
the noun and the predicate are connected. For example, “She is running.” “She” is the noun,
“running” is the predicate, and “is” is the copula. A copula, or connecting verb, is the word,
usually a verb, that ties the subject to the predicate. In English, “to be” is a copula. In
Russian, the verb Быть (byt) is equivalent to “to be.” Although not inherently difficult to use
properly, быть is used very differently than its English counterpart.

The present tense form of быть is есть (yest), which means it is irregular. However, есть is
not commonly used in modern Russian language. Instead, it is often omitted, with the
meaning of the sentence implied. For example, Я-врач (ya vrach). Literally translated, this
means “I doctor,” with Я meaning «I» and врач meaning “doctor.” However, Russians
understand this sentence to mean “I am a doctor,” with the word “am” omitted.

In written Russian, a dash is written between the subject and the predicate to indicate how
the sentence should be understood. In the past, есть was used, but it fell out of favor in
order to simplify speech. As I learned when I was in Russia, Russians prefer to keep
sentences short and simple, omitting unnecessary words or phrases and shortening words
with the use of diminutives.

Here are some examples using “to be” in the present tense:
Я-рада (ya rada) – I am happy.
Он-устал (on oostal) –He is tired.
Они-студенты (oni stoodyenti) –They are students.

Sometimes, however, for declaring certain states of being, the dative case forms are used.
The dative case is used to represent the indirect object, which is the object that receives an
action.
The dative case pronouns are:
Мне (mnye)-me
Тебе (tyebye)-you (informal)
Ему, Ей (yemoo, yey)-he, she
Нам (nam)- us
Вам (vam)- you (formal)
Им- (im) them

For example, to say, “I am cold,” you would say “Мне холодно” (mnye holodno.) Literally
this translates to “to me it is cold.” Another example is, “Тебе скучно,” (tyebye skoochno)
which means “to me it is boring.” However, it is understood as “I am bored.” Learning when
to use nominative case pronouns (Я, Ты, Он, etc.), which are the most commonly used,
versus dative case pronouns when declaring a state of being is something that must be
memorized.
In the present tense however, есть has a different and more common use. It is often used to
mean “to have,” such as “У меня есть собака” (Oo myenya yest sobaka.) This literally
translates to,” to me there is a dog.” It is actually understood as “I have a dog.” There are
some other times when есть is used in the present tense. Some examples are:
У вас есть кофе? (oo vas yest kofye?)- Do you have coffee?
В супе есть волос (v soppye yest volos) –There is hair in the soup.
Есть водка? (yest vodka?) –Is there vodka?

On the other hand, Быть is commonly used in the past and future tenses. In the past tense,
the conjugation of Быть is:
Он Был (on bil)- He was
Она Была (ona bila)- She was
Оно Было(ono bilo)- It (neuter) was
Они Были (oni bili)- They were

Examples:
Она была в Библиотеке.(ona bila v bibliotyekye) – She was at the library.
Я Была в ресторане.(ya bila v ryestoranye) – I was at a restaurant.

Remember that gender always has to be considered when conjugating verbs in the past
tense. If you are a female, you would say “Я Была» and if you are male, you would say “Я
Был.” Generally, words that end in a consonant or the letter “й” are masculine, those
ending in the letters “а” or “я” are feminine, and those ending in “о” or “е” are neuter
(gender neutral.)

However, there are some notable exceptions to these rules that have to be memorized, as
some of them are used in daily conversations. You also have to consider whether the
subject is singular or plural. If singular, you conjugate based on gender. You can tell that a
subject is plural if it ends in “и” or “ы.” Forming the past tense of verbs, such as Быть, is
actually much easier than one might expect. The difficulty lies in having to decide between
using the imperfective or perfective form of a verb.

The future tense conjugation of Быть is used very often in written and spoken Russian.
While the conjugations are not affected by gender in the future tense, you must conjugate
based on the subject, (i.e. who is performing the action.)
Forming the future tense conjugation:

Я Буду (boodoo)-I will be Мы Будем (boodyem) – We will be

Ты Будешь (boodyesh)- You will be (informal) Вы Будите – (boodyetye)(formal) you
will be
Он, Она Будет (boodyet)- He, she will be Они Будут (boodoot) – They will be

Examples:
Я буду читать роман завтра. (ya boodoo chitat roman zavtra) – I will read a book
tomorrow.
Ты будешь стать актёром. (ti boodyesh stat aktyorom)- You will become an actor.
Они будут в университете. (oni boodoot v oonivyersityetye)- They will be at university.

It is important to note that when using Быть in conjunction with another verb you must use
the infinitive form of the verb, which is its uninflected form. The use of Быть and the
infinitive form of a verb implies that the action is imperfective, as opposed to perfective.
These two aspects, imperfective and perfective, must be considered when conjugating
verbs. The imperfective aspect is used for verbs that are ongoing, not yet finished, repeated
or habitual. Perfective implies that the action was successfully completed.

Although it may seem daunting, forming conjugations of Быть is actually quite simple. Once
you get used to the idea of omitting Быть in the present tense, all you have to focus on is
forming the conjugations in the past and future tenses.
Swahili II: Cultural history
By Tom Priestly

Swahili developed where it is now spoken in its purest form, namely in Zanzibar and on the
nearby coast: here the Arabian traders set up their first markets, extended their territory
and over ten centuries built numerous forts and mosques. At first Swahili must have been
some kind of pidgin—a contact language that developed between the local speakers and the
Arabian traders.

Over the millennium, with intermarriage and Arabization of the locals, it developed into a
language (see my 'Swahili' in Silly Linguistics #5) that shows its Bantu origin and Arabic, and
other, influences. Trade in ivory, gold and slaves began in the 9 th C.; it was sporadic unti the
18th C., after which it became extensive, and every safári (a Swahili word) that the traders
made into the interior helped to make it the common language of a vast area.

Arabic influence is seen to just a small extent in the phonology of Standard Swahili; e.g.,
words with [D], [T] (sounds that are not typically Bantu) and a phonemic contrast between
[l] and [r]:
tafadhali [tafaDa!li] 'please' < Arab. [tafad¢d¢al]
theluji [TeludZi] 'snow' < Arab. [t¢alV]
Bantu-origin karamu 'feast' vs. kalamu 'pen, pencil' < Arab. [qalam].

The grammar is still like those of Bantu languages, but somewhat simplified. In lexicon,
however, non-Bantu influences are profound. First some loanwords from languages other
than Arabic.

Some words are of immediate, or ultimate, origin in the Indic languages, many of them
borrowed through Persian and Arabic or simply through Arabic. Examples: kasuku 'parrot' <
Hindi, chai 'tea' < Hindi, originally from Chinese, sukari 'sugar,' originally < Sanskrit.

There remain a few Swahili words that come from Portuguese: after Vasco Da Gama's visit
in 1497-9, and political conquest by 1510, there was trading on the coast and fort-building
by the Portuguese, but their power declined after 1700: meza 'table', pesa 'money', karata
'playing card', mvinyo 'wine, spirits'. Portuguese was also a medium for words brought from
Brazil that denoted food: muhogo 'cassava', mlimau 'lemon'. One curiosity derives from the
Portuguese practice of employing Malays in the 16-17th C. winehouses: malaya 'prostitute'.

There are virtually no linguistic remnants of the German colonization of Tanganyika, 1880s –
1919 (when the country became part of British East Africa). The German presence is
maintained only as an echo of their extensive educational efforts, in the word shule <
German 'schule'; little else.
British influence was established in the 1880 and consolidated in Kenya and Uganda by 1900
and in Tanzania after 1919, through colonization, de-Islamization and Christianization,
missionary and colonial control. Words from English have become permanent and common
in standard Swahili, e.g., those in Part I for languages and Krismasi, motokaa; also shilingi
'shilling' (Tanzanian unit of currency, along with senti), umisionari 'missionary activity',
stesheni ya treni 'train station', baiskeli 'bicycle', and sports terms like soka 'soccer', fainali
'final'; all the names of the months; and many more.

Some borrowings from English have been discouraged since Tanzanian independence, with
the substitution of words with both Bantu and Arabic roots. Examples: mahakama 'court'
(cf. hukumu 'judgement') instead of earlier korti, and nguvu farasi (literally 'power [of]
horse') for earlier hosipawa. On the other hand, newer English loans proliferate, e.g., ku-
perusi 'to surf' (< 'peruse'). Amusing borrowings include kipilefti 'roundabout' (< 'keep left'),
kubipu 'to call someone by phone and hang up after one ring, so they will call you back' (<
'beep').

All of the above are vastly outnumbered by borrowings from Arabic. The language was first
written in Arabic script, reputedly in the 17 th C. and very definitely by 1800. Only with the
coming of Christianity was it first witten with the Latin alphabet, and then only in mission
churches and schools; meanwhile, Swahili literature in Arabic script had flourished,
especially in association with Islamic schools. No wonder, then, that so many words are of
Arabic origin.

The name of the language itself is Arabic, < [sawāḥilī] 'coastal'; and, maybe surprisingly, not
only all the numerals from '20' ishirini up, but also three of the digits below ten: sita '6',
saba '7' and tisa '9'. Many words that are usually classed as part of 'basic vocabulary' are
also from Arabic, e.g., nuru 'light', mwali 'flame', samaki 'fish'; the word for 'covered
market', duka, now ubiquitous for any shop or roadside stall (even beyond the area where
Swahili is spoken) and, as might be expected, 'cultural' words such as kitabu 'book', wakati
'time', msikiti 'mosque,' jamii 'community', sheria 'law'.

Many words known internationally from movies (see 'Swahili III') like hatari 'danger' and
rafiki 'friend' are also from Arabic. Arabic loanwords have been fully incorporated into the
grammatical structure; examples are very numerous, e.g., Arabic /adabu/ 'good manners'
occurs in ku-adibu 'to teach good manners', ku-adibika 'to be well-mannered'. Speakers of
European languages with borrowings that are ultimately from Arabic or Persian will
recognize some Swahili words with the same origin.

Examples: Swahili saa 'hour; watch, clock' < Arabic > Turkish > Serbian сат /sat/ 'watch,
clock'; Swahili sanduku 'box' < Arabic > Asian Turkic > Russian сундук /sundúk/ 'wooden
chest'. A word with a strange history is kanisa 'church' < Arabic < Greek and originally <
Aramaic.
The enormous influence of Arabic in the lexicon has led some writers to classify Swahili as a
mixed language; but, given that the grammar is completely Bantu, the language is normally
considered Bantu—just as English is considered Germanic on similar grounds.

Sources:
Lodhi, Abdulaziz. Oriental Influences in Swahili, Göteborg, Sweden, 2000.
Mugane, John M. The Story of Swahili. Athens OH: Ohio University Press, 2015.
Petzell, Malin. 'Expanding the Swahili vocabulary,' Africa and Asia 5 (2005) 85-107.
Communication: Ancient and contemporary civilizations
By Farsetti Veronica

Linguistics agree with eachother when they say that the same difficulty indicator can be
applied to the present-day languages used between modern human populations.

But how did we get here?

The origin of language, meant as the vehicle through which human beings communicate
with eachother, is way more complicated to define.

If we think about ancient greek and latin, we soon realise that grammar at that time was
way harder than our is today, and the more we go back in time, the more we find it difficult.
How about the Egyptian hieroglyphics? We might as well understand the meaning of a Latin
word if our mother tongue language comes from Latin, but it would be unlikely impossible
for any of us to get the meaning of the egyptian simbols without studying them before. This
evolution comes from the necessity of the ancients to easily communicate with their
neighbouring populations.

Isolated populations tend to use the same sign-system; vocabulary (everything about
words), phonology (the sounds of the language), morphology (the form of words and
phrases), syntax (the grammatical arrangement of words in a sentence), pragmatics (the
concrete use of the language). As soon as the isolation brakes, due to commercial exchanges
for example, two languages get in touch with eachother and the linguistics contamination
phenomenon happens. Some terms get in the vocabulary of the other idiom and this causes
a cultural impact.

This contamination still takes place everytime we travel, for example. If we'd lived in Europe
ages ago, we'd only get in touch with cultures which were easily reachable by using the
available means of transport (horses and carriages), such as Romans did with Egyptians. It
would not be common to have a relation with a South America's inhabitant, I'd say.
Nowadays everything has changed; we can easily travel around the world and mix up our
culture with others.

This leads the voyager to be contaminated by the way of thinking of other populations that
developed millions of years ago, in a place on earth not close at all to the one he comes
from. This is the reason why there are hundreds of religions and cultures; they developed in
different environments with different climate, agricolture, food habits and so on. Our mind
opens up a little everytime we get in touch with all of this, with everything new and unusual,
unexpected.

What if language had never developed? The first proofs of a developing intellect were found
in caves, from the Prehistoric time when Homo Sapiens painted hunting scenes on their
walls. Meanwhile that physical evolution was happening, about which later men such as
Charles Darwin studied and referred about, a way of communicating with the beings around
was deeply needed.

There are thousands of languages and dialects spoken in the world nowadays and it is very
hard for linguistics to retrace every stage of language evolution, but a recent study on the
evolution of languages supports most likely that they all arise from one idiom spoken more
than 50.000 years ago. Basing on this study made in New Zeland few years ago, more than
6.000 today's languages all derive from one only ancient language used from Africa's
inhabitants between 50.000 and 70.000 years ago.

Research's author Quentin Douglas Atkinson, Evolutionary Psychology teacher at University

of Auckland, "shows that by applying mathematical methods used in genetics to linguistic
data from 504 languages around the world, one can trace the origin of language to
Southwest Africa" linguistic Asya Pereltsvaig says "his main observation is this: a language
area uses fewer phonemes the farther that early humans had to travel from Africa to reach
it. Not every antropologist agrees with what Atkinson supports, some are still debating and
publishing commentaries that argue with his theory. Objections, discussions and responses
can be found in Science Magazine.

We can now state that lexical similarity is the effect caused by the spirit of adaptation that
touched every ancient population and thanks to which you all can read this article. So,
languages seem to operate an evolutionary system of adaptation very close to the one
walked by species during their diffusions on planet earth. The topic is however very difficult
to study because of the lack of direct evidences; language evolution is an extremely
complicated world that drew the attention of many scientists throughout history, but we
still have no certainty on when all of this started and on how it is still evolving.
Before the Ages of Men
By Diana Vereris

All of us sometime come to this philosophical state of wonder “What has been first? What
was before?”, and, the concern of this entry paragraph, “What was before the ages of
men?”. Science gives us the answers to all of those questions, of course, but what if we lived
in the world where all and everything we have is magic?

That's right, here we go again, after a relatively long period of time, the series of
constructed languages in Silly Lingustics returns, in glory of the Elves of Bethesda Softwork's
The Elder Scrolls. This article will shed some light on Aldmeris, the language of the Aldmer,
The Elder Folk. (Tip: It'll be even brighter knowing the basics of Ayleidoon, which has been
covered in “The Remnant of Light” in the fifth issue of Silly Lingustics.)

Starting with pronunciation, it's speculated way and tone comes from the similarities
between Ayleidoon and Aldmeris, as to the fact of the former being the derivativ e of the
latter and Umaril the Unfeathered (an Ayleid a Wild Elf) being the oldest representative who
can be heard speaking. It's important to keep in mind though, that Ayleidoon is mostly
speculative.

The sounds are always pronounced the same, unlike in English, more resembling Slavic
languages, given them having i.e. “c” and “k” as two different sounds at all times. Therefore
consonants c, h, k, g, ch, gh, t, r are always sharply and strongly pronounced. Same go es for
the vowels, the need for their longer – and therefore a bit softer – version is rare and features
a double of the letter i.e. aa, ee.

When it comes to stressing, it [stress] falls on the first syllable of the word (eg. Ánda), except
for the case of the last syllable ending in a consonant, which changes the stress to fall on it
[the last syllable] instead (eg. Cemén). The Aldmeris grammar features six-class declension. As
in English, the only declensions are nominative and genitive, but both have singular and plural
forms.

The nouns are divided into the classes by the final sound in singular. The declension of
adjectives is similar and, just as in English, lacks the Genitive form. However, Aldmeris
adjectives have a plural form, which means that whenever a noun is
plural, so is its adjective.

Different to Ayleidoon, Aldmeris does not have a possessive case, forcing a quite unnatural
formation of sentences, which of course would be natural and logica l to the native speakers of
the language. The relative pronoun man means “which was/who was” as a replacement for
the lack of it. Personal pronouns are more in favor, having Nominative and Accusative forms
identical, only variation showing in the Genitive. However, there's no pronoun for “he” or
“she”, which is replaced by the noun in sentences.
There are only three tenses in Aldmeris. The present tense is indicated by adding a personal
suffix to a verb, those being -nye for Me, -t for You, -ne for We and -ye for You (pl.) and
none for He/She and They. Verbs ending in a consonant have an extra -a added before the
personal suffix. For the past tense, such -a is swapped for -e. Generally, the past tense has an -
i fixed before the last vowel and then followed by the regular personal suffix. The future tense
if formed by adding -va and the personal suffix to the end of the verb.

There are two types of commands in Aldmeris. The first one, regular imperative, is used to
tell somebody to do something, formed by the suffix -oy (eg. Hecoy! - Leave!). The second, a
more polite form, used to ask to do something, is formed by the suffix -e (eg. Hece – Please
leave). A sentence follows the order of Subject – Verb – Object. An adjective always follows
the noun it describes, the owner always follows the owned. A negative sentence is formed by
adding a prefix aba- to a verb, or -ab if the verb starts with a vowel. Otherwise the verb work s
as normal. Questions have the order of Interrogative – Verb – Subject – Object – Preposition.

More detailed information about the Aldmeris (and many other languages) can be found in
the Imperial Library, of course. No, but really, visit www.imperial-library.info and search for
amazing Hrafnir's languages! There's also a work-in-progress English-Aldmeris translator at
https://lingojam.com/English-Aldmeris, give it a try!
How many languages are there?
By Cath Fincher

There are officially 195 countries in the world, but we can’t use that to estimate the number
of languages. Many countries have the same official languages – look at examples such as
English, French, Spanish and Arabic - but there are also often many languages in each
country.

There have been many attempts to count the number of languages, but there are some
difficulties with this. Firstly, it is difficult to decide what is a language and what is a dialect
within that language.

When we talk about a language – whether it is English, or Mandarin, or Serbo-Croat, or

Comanche, or Xhosa - then we are talking about a system of communication that is mutually
intelligible to the speakers. For many languages there will be dialects of that language
spoken in different regions or in different social classes which have a different accent,
grammatical rules and some lexical differences. In theory, once the dialects are no longer
mutually intelligible, then they are no longer dialects of one language but are related
languages in the same language family. However, nothing is ever that simple.

Languages ‘evolve’ in a similar way to living creatures. If a group of people living in an area
speak one language but two or more sub-groups within the area become separated (either
geographically or socially) then the separate groups will begin to accrue lexical differences.
Eventually a different accent may develop – perhaps because of contact with another group
of people speaking a different dialect or a different language. If there is no continued
contact between the groups, eventually the differences between the dialects will become
sufficiently large that the speakers in each group cannot understand each other, and two or
more new languages will have been created.

This is the way that our modern languages have been created (more about the Evolution of
Language in a later article). English has many different dialects - not just within the UK and
Ireland but in the other countries that have English as an official language (e.g.: the USA,
Canada, South Africa, Australia, New Zealand, India, the West Indies, etc). Theoretically, all
of these are mutually intelligible.

However, as a speaker of standard British English (my own dialect is generally called ‘Estuary
English’ coming from the region of the Thames Estuary in the South East of the country), I
do have difficulties in understanding some other dialects of English even though all of these
are broadly mutually intelligible with good will on both sides.

This is further complicated by the fact that contiguous dialects (i.e.: those in neighbouring
areas) are mutually intelligible but those at the other end of a language’s range may not be.
This is called a ‘dialect continuum’ so that the changes that gradually accumulate between
neighbouring villages become multiplied with distance. This was particularly true in the past
before the influence of radio and TV put pressure on local dialects towards a standard
variety of the language. So, where do we draw the line? If everyone in a language’s range
can understand everyone in the next village, but not those living hundreds of miles away,
how many languages are there?

Another problem in counting languages is that there are languages with different names
which are mutually intelligible. The Scandinavian languages are mutually intelligible to
educated speakers. We don’t talk about ‘Scandi’ with several dialects, but instead
Norwegian, Swedish and Danish. The same is true of Hindi and Urdu which are mutually
intelligible (with some lexical differences – in the same way as there are lexical differences
between dialects of English) although they are written with different scripts.

Often the decision about whether two dialects are different languages is political or
religious (Hindi is spoken largely by Hindus, Urdu by Muslims). In the Balkans, the languages
Serbian, Croatian and Bosnian are mutually intelligible, but are separated by history and
national pride. In Africa the languages of Fon and Ewe, or Tsonga and Ronga, differ by less
than dialects of English. On the other hand, the dialects of Arabic are often unintelligible to
speakers of other dialects but are all still considered to be Arabic.

This has resulted in the description of languages as being ‘dialects with an army and a navy’.
A further problem in our count of languages is that anthropologists and linguists are still
occasionally identifying new languages in isolated places; this is especially true in South
America or places like Papua New Guinea, both of which have huge numbers of languages
because of the geographical isolation of the peoples living there. Even as new languages are
identified, languages are dying out at an unprecedented rate.

A best guess is that there are probably around 5000 languages, but possibly as many as
7000. Some of those are spoken as a first language, some by just one person – and it’s those
minority languages, especially those threatened with extinction, that I will look at next
month.
How Bosnian, Croatian and Serbian language is the same, but it is not the same language
By Mirela Omeragic

When one gets to think about the Balkans, one of the first things is the language. Linguists
are having debates about it for ages but the opinion about it always shows to be subjective.

To distinguish Slavic and Balkan languages, we can roughly divide them into 2 groups :
1. Not the same but the same language
2. Not the same but similar language

The first group deals with „ Three Headed Dragon „ of the Balkans : Bosnian, Croatian and
Serbian language. It is the same but it is not the same language.

How come?
Grammatically speaking, it is the same when we look at the structure of the sentence :
1. Ja volim pizzu. Bosnian
2. Ja volim pizzu. Croatian
3. Ja volim pizzu. Serbian
( Translated as „I love pizza.“

It is consisted of a subject, verb, object. There are cases and both noun phrases ( Ja-me) and
(pizzu-pizza) are carrying a case : 1. ja- Nominative 2. pizzu- Accusative.

All NPs in any sentence will go through declension, the word order is the same, grammatical
rules can be applied to all 3 languages, they have the same tense, pronouns and
structure..so how come they are not the same?

Look at the following :

1. Mary ima linijar. Bosnian
2. Mary ima ravnalo. Croatian
3. Mary ima lenjir. Serbian
( Translated as : „Mary has a ruler.“)
As with the first set of examples, we see here too that in all three sentences, we have
declension, the word order is the same, grammar is the same, they are all in Present Tense,
the structure is the same, but we notice that the object „ruler“ is written differently.
Coincidence? Look at the next set of examples :

1. Ovo je njena familija. Bosnian

2. Ovo je njena obitelj. Croatian
3. Ovo je njena porodica. Serbian
( Translated as : „This is her family.“)

Again, the same above mentioned rules can be applied.

And finally, look at this set:

1. Ona voli historiju. Bosnian

2. Ona voli povijest. Croatian
3. Ona voli istoriju. Serbian
( Translated as : „She loves history.“)

Again, we can notice that the same rules are applied here as well. This leads us to the first
rule in the distinction of Bosnian, Croatian and Serbian language : the difference is in the
words that are used, not in the grammar.

The distinction between these words is based on the fact that all three languages have their
own version of the word with the same meaning.
Sometimes, the word is the same in all three languages :

1. Knjiga 1. Slika Bosnian

2. Knjiga 2. Slika Croatian
3. Knjiga 3. Slika Serbian
( „Knjiga“ means „the book“ and „Slika“ means „ the picture“)
Sometimes, as seen in the previous examples, all three of them have different version:
1. Narandža Bosnian
2. Naranča Croatian
3. Pomorandža Serbian
( „Orange“)

Or sometimes they have completely different word :

1. Zelje Bosnian
2. Špinat Croatian
3. Spanač Serbian
( „Spinach“)

On the other hand, we have variations where the word is the same in two languages, but
different in one :
1. Stepenice Bosnian
2. Stepenice Serbian
3. Stube Croatian
( „Stairs“)

1. Mrkva Bosnian
2. Mrkva Croatian
3. Šargarepa Serbian
(„ Carrot“)

And finally, an example in which Bosnian word is different and Croatian and Serbian is the
same :
1. Užitak Croatian
2. Užitak Serbian
3. Merak Bosnian
(„ Enjoyment“)

Namely, „merak“ is a word of Turkish origin. Since Ottoman Empire ruled over Bosnia and
Herzegovina for 500 years, a lot of Turkish words became part of Bosnian language. Rarely
will somebody in Bosnian use „užitak“ but some people do use it too.

To sum up! Grammatically speaking, syntax of all three languages is the same : they all have
declension, tense, the same word order, the same cases and the same structure. The
difference is based in the different terms used for the same word.

Stay tuned to find out about this topic more and how these languages differ in phrases and
meaning, and how regional language also plays huge role!
Being Comfortable with Comfterble
By Matheus Garone

Metathesis is the process of rearranging sounds in a word. Historically, linguists have

reduced metathesis to child’s speech, or mere slips of the tongue. While it’s true that
children have a greater tolerance for metathesis (think pasketti), there are valid cross-
linguistic mechanisms underlying this process. The following words have undergone
metathesis in one accent of English or another:

Word Metathesized form

ask /æks/ “aks”
iron /’aɪərn/ “iern”
prescribe /pər’skraɪb/ “perscribe”
realtor /’rilətər/ “relator”
cavalry /’kælvəri/ “calvary”
comfortable /’kʌmftərbəl/ “comfterble”

Metathesis is complex. In fact, leading theories of phonology like Optimality Theory often
fail to predict it. This may seem daunting, but it’s also very exciting. Perhaps one day an
explanation of metathesis may revolutionize our understanding of phonology. Although we
cannot explain metathesis in its entirety, we know a lot about it.

We know that the most common instances of metathesis cross-linguistically involve the
migration of lateral and rhotic consonants, otherwise known as liquid consonants. Consider
the list of metathesized words above, all but one involve liquid metathesis. Why?
Perceptually, lateral and rhotic consonants are known to bleed into surrounding sounds
(Hawkins 2000).

Some have suggested that this is because /r/ and /l/ require such articulatory effort that
their features (and therefore resonances) spread across a word. So when we hear a word
with /r/ or /l/, especially if it’s unfamiliar, we might not know where these sounds truly lie. It
seems hard to believe, but this phenomenon can be illustrated by the word sherbet. Most
Americans say /’ʃɜrbərt/ (sherbert), with progressive long-distance r-assimilation due to
perceptual spreading. We see r-dissimilation in the word berserk—which many people
pronounce /bə’zɜrk/ (beserk)—for much the same reason. Here, our brains are
hypercorrecting for liquid spreading by deleting the first /r/.

Although liquid spreading doesn’t explain why metathesis happens, it provides an

explanation as to why liquids are allowed to metathesize more often than other sounds. We
also know that metathesis tends to increase ease of articulation (Hume 2001). Take
prescribe, for example. The consonant cluster /pr/ is quite cumbersome, especially at the
onset of an unstressed syllable. Try saying prescribe or produce the way they’re spelled, it
requires greater articulatory gymnastics. Now consider the /pr/ of pretty. Since this cluster
occurs before a stressed vowel, it’s considerably easier to pronounce. Some varieties of
English, however, have the metathetic pronunciation /pɜrti/ (perty).

We stigmatize this dialectal variant, yet the words bird and third came about by the same
process, as at one time they were spelled brid and thrid. Those who say perty are employing
a valid and cyclical pattern of English sound change. Perhaps the metathetic pronunciation
of ask is the most heavily-scrutinized in English. All it takes is one /æks/ for most white
people to turn their noses and turn off their ears. Ironically, those of us who think we’re
saying /æsk/ are almost always saying /æs/ in casual speech.

Try it out by saying, “They ask me all the time.” The /k/ is gone! This is because word-final
stops like /k/ following fricatives like /s/ are not particularly salient (Hume 2001). The most
important perceptual cue of a stop consonant is its release. During a word-final /sk/
sequence, the stop release is weak and somewhat overpowered by the noisy frication
preceding it. During a /ks/ sequence, on the other hand, the stop release is clear and
prominent because it’s followed by a rush of air. /æs/ and /æks/ are two valid solutions to
the same problem.

The only difference is that those who say /æks/ prioritize faithfulness to the number of
sounds in a word, while those who say /æs/ prioritize faithfulness to the order of these
sounds. Whenever we’re talking about dialectal variability, it’s important to keep in mind
that “standard” and “non-standard” are subjective terms. If middle class whites started
saying /æks/ or /pɜrti/, it would be considered standard, unproblematic speech. Instead of
scorn and judgment, we should meet metathesis with curiosity. It’s a complex mechanism
with many perceptual and articulatory factors in play, and it will force us to redefine future
models of phonology. It’s time we get comfortable with comfterble.
Dis and Dat
By Matheus Garone

Despite living in the US for nearly 20 years, my Brazilian father possesses no dental
fricatives. He replaces the [θ] of thing with [f], and the [ð] of that with [d]. And he isn’t
alone, these sounds have traditionally plagued non-native English learners. In this article, I’ll
shed light on the acoustic and perceptual factors that inform my father’s aversion to dental
fricatives.
Fricative salience is largely defined by the degree of obstruction in the airstream, or its
“hiss”.

This hiss is more prominent in sounds like [s], where the airstream is obstructed not only by
the tongue at the alveolar ridge, but also by the front teeth. [θ] is significantly quieter,
making it difficult to discriminate in speech and thus perceptually unfavorable (Maddieson,
1984). When sounds are perceptually weak, they’re more likely to undergo change or be
confused with other sounds. Below is a confusion matrix demonstrating how various
fricatives and [d] were perceived by native speakers of American English. Stimuli are listed
vertically, and responses are listed horizontally. Notice how [θ] and [ð] were misidentified as
[f] and [v] about a third of the time!

(Miller & Nicely, 1955)

Dental and labiodental fricatives obviously have strong perceptual commonalities, but it’s
important to note that confusion between the two mainly goes one way. In this study, [f]
was interpreted as [θ] only 17% of the time, and [v] was interpreted as [ð] only 12% of the
time. This observation is reflected in historical sound change, as [θ]  [f] is well-attested
while [f]  [θ] is virtually unheard of. This makes sense because [f] and [v] are noisier—and
therefore clearer—than their dental counterparts.
Perceptual fricative space and [d] in American English (Miller & Nicely, 1955)
One question still looms large: why does my father replace the voiced dental fricative with
[d] instead of [v]? What accounts for this asymmetry with [θ]  [f]? Once again, we can
turn to an acoustic explanation. A fricative’s most discerning acoustic quality is its
turbulence, and voicing greatly dampens this turbulence.

Try it out for yourself by producing [f] and [v], you’ll notice that [v] is barely “hissed” at all.
Fricatives with a dampened hiss can be difficult to distinguish from stops or approximants,
and this is reflected in the phonologies of various languages. For example, Spanish doesn’t
contrast the voiced stop [d̪ ] and the voiced fricative [ð] ([d̪ eðo] = /dedo/ “finger”). Many
languages also make no distinction between the voiced fricative [v] and the approximant
[w].

I thought my father might’ve been upset by this article, upset about being put under the
microscope and turned into a case study. But as he was reading this, he had a giant smile
plastered on his face. He wasn’t self-conscious, he was curious. This is what happens when
we realize that human speech is shaped by the same auditory and articulatory constraints
regardless of who we are or where we live. When he finished reading, he asked, “So it’s the
English speakers who are freaks for having these sounds in their language?” I could only
laugh, because it’s kind of true.

References
Basbøll, H. (1985). Ian Maddieson (1984). Patterns of sounds. With a chapter contributed by
Sandra Ferrari Disner. (Cambridge Studies in Speech Science and Communication)
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pp. ix 422. Phonology Yearbook, 2(1), 343-353.
Miller, G. A., & Nicely, P. A. (1955). An analysis of perceptual confusions among some English
consonants. Journal of the Acoustical Society of America, 27, 338-352.
Johnson, K. (2012). Speech perception. In Acoustic and auditory phonetics (pp. 100-122).
Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell.
An exploration of Suppletion and its effect on language evolution.
By Edward Bedford

Anyone learning a language has surely cursed irregular verbs at some point. Amongst these,
it seems as if languages are especially vindictive as it is often the most common words that
are irregular. This is easy enough to deal with as one must only learn a few irregular forms if
the irregularity is minor, such as parens, parentibus in Latin. However, some irregularities
seem totally different from the stem word. And so one might think that these are just words
randomly mashed together.

Consider the verb to be in English: to be, I am, I was etc. (this is not even considering the
further complications of the future form. Is it I will or I shall?) The cause of this is rather
close to people’s common exclamation that “this is just a totally different word”. By a
process known as suppletion words can take on other words to fill certain forms. This often
happens as defective verbs (verbs which lack a form, such as a tense.) fill the holes in their
paradigms by merging with other verbs that do have such forms (which in turn are also often
defective).

As well as explaining how verbs such as I am came to be I will also explore examples from
other languages, and think about the process of suppletion itself and what this might be
able to tell us about languages and their use and evolution in general. To complement my
explanation of to be I will address the similar nature of to be in German - ich bin.

Similarly, I will consider to be in Latin as it is interesting to note how suppletion often arises
in the most common verbs independently of other languages. This explanation nicely leads
on to a consideration of how suppletion affects language. Do not think that it is only
common verbs that demonstrate suppletion. Less common verbs show it, e.g. the Latin verb
fero (I bear), and other word forms such as nouns and adjectives can show it. However, it is
most prevalent in words with multiple inflected forms such as verbs.

To fully explore this characteristic of language, I feel that it is necessary to consider the
etymology of the different forms of words. I will try to present this in the clearest way, and
so have chosen in part to use tables and in others just to explain the evolution of the
different forms.

As an English speaker with some knowledge of German, the verb to be in both languages is a
great example to start with. It is also interesting as people tend not to question its oddities,
but will complain at the complexities of other language’s irregularities in similar situations. I
hope this explanation will show how English is just as complex as most others.
 Language 1st singular present 2nd plural present The other forms
of to be, such as
Modern English be was is, or am, also
come from Proto
Middle English be was Germanic
*wesana from
Old English beon (to be/become) wesan Proto-Indo-
European*h1esti
*beuna (to *wesana (to (to be)
Proto-Germanic
be/become) be/remain)

Proto-Indo- *bhuHt ((to

h2wes (to reside)
European be/become/appear)

This shows that the modern English preserves the suppletion of its antecedents. You can also
see how different meanings have been merged as to become, to reside and to be have
combined to into one meaning. If you heard the word bist, I would guess that you might
think it sounds like German and not English yet it can be heard in some south-western
English dialects (such as around Bristol).

This preserves a characteristic of the local Middle English and Old English dialects and should
be seen as symptomatic of how these small changes in usage which lead to suppletion are
often very local. It is only recently that languages have become seen as more homogeneous
with the standard form based on a single locality that was of sociological or literary
importance as the language was standardised. E.g. think how English (specifically British
English) is based on the form of English spoken around London (the country’s capital) or how
Castilian has become thought of as Spanish.

German is rather similar in that ich bin is suppletive. It also does come from the same
suppletive forms as many of these originated before the parent languages fully diverged.
Also note that things like sind which do not seem to be present in Modern English were still
used in variants of Old English.

1st singular 2nd plural 1st singular

Language
present present past

Modern
bin sind war
German

Middle High
bin sein/sin wësan
German

Old High
bim sin wesan
German
 Proto-Germanic *beuna *wesana

Proto-Indo-
*bhew *h1es *h1es
European

The Latin sum1 (to be) is another suppletive verb. Many people might think that it is
odd as its principle parts are sum, esse, fui. In this regard only fui is suppletive. Esse looks like
an odd infinitive but actually preserves the original stem of the verb, and it is sum that is
irregular (a decent book on the history of Latin should explain this process). Fui is a
suppletive form which comes from a different Proto-Italic stem than sum. Fui was originally
the perfect form of the verb fio, which was a standard verb meaning to become. However, as
fui was used as the past of sum, fio became defective.

Language 1st singular present 1st singular past

Classical Latin sum fui

*(fe)fuai (to
Proto-Italic *ezom (to be)
become/be)

Proto-Indo-
*h1esmi (to be) *bhuHt (to become/be)
European

As well as explaining why sum seems so odd, understanding the process of suppletion which
occurred allows us to see how fio continued to develop. As fui was now being used as a
different verb fio was now defective and lacked a past tense. This, and due to its meaning,
meant that it borrowed the verb facio's past tense as its own. In turn this lead to fio semi-
merging with facio and so becoming part of a larger suppletive verb.

If you think about the meaning of become and make they are almost like the passive and
active forms of the same idea. And so fio became used as the passive of facio, and the
presumably the standard method of creating a passive form of verb was disregarded, and so
we do not see *facior as the passive form of facio. This process shows how suppletion can
supply forms in different moods as well as tenses.

You may also be interested to know that from * bhuHt the tense markers -bo and -bam
come. This seems to make perfect sense for -bo, as if something becomes there is an implied
sense of future (as you will see further in my discussion of ich werde) however, tenses can
shift and the imperfect also has a related sense to I become, in that it describes a continuous

1
N.B. Latin preserves an old usage of sum with the dative as a possessive construction (also known as mihi est
construction), which was only later replaced by the use of habeo. Sometimes this use of possessive dative is
erroneously thought as a borrowed facet of Greek grammar.
action that is in the process of becoming finished. It is not only the verb to be that shows
suppletion. For the sake of brevity, I will not fully explore other verbs but do feel it worth
mentioning a few examples. The obvious Latin example (which I know, and curse, well) is
fero, tuli, latum.

The forms tuli and latum, both come from the same Proto-Italic form but interesting both
act as parts of the verb tollo (although are distinguished with prefixes such as sus- or sub-).
However a fuller examination of this would take too long, so I must move on. Do be assured
that if you investigate any very irregular seeming verb there is a good chance that this
irregularity can be explained by suppletion.

Now you may remember that I ignored the future tense of to be. Hopefully, you will
remember the way the rest of the verb was affected by suppletion, and how fio lead both to
the perfect form of sum but also remember suffixes -bo and -bam. In English, the future of
to be similarly shows how suppletion can lead to grammatical ways to show tense. I will/I
shall both survive in other forms as independent verbs in English, although some such as he
wills it are rather archaic.

Language shall will

Modern English shall will

Middle English schulen (sense of obligation like Latin debeo) willen

willan (to will/to be about

Old English sculan
to)

Proto-Germanic *skulana *wiljana (to wish)

Proto-Indo-
*skel *welh1 (to chose/wish)
European

In formal English usage (and slightly more archaic) will was only used for the future in the 2nd
and 3rd person and shall was used for the 1st person. Will in the 1st person holds a strong
sense of intention and so should not be considered the standard future of to be. Shall in the
2nd and 3rd person also hold a strong sense of obligation. However, both of these forms can
be considered rather variant forms of the future, although with strong semantic force.

Shall is used in other ways to form questions and will can also be used archaically in a way
very similar to the verb wish or want, e.g. he wills it. As such these should be seen as
suppletive forms in evolution, as I predict that in a few more hundred years the verb will will
only be used as a future. (Also note that would used to be a past participle of will, but now
acts as a modal verb. This is similar to should etc.)
German is rather similar, as it uses a suppletive form for its future. Ich werde, which can also
be used as become/turn (cognate of the Latin vertere). Comes from the Middle High German
wërden from the Old High German werdan from the Proto-Germanic *werƥana. This use of
a form of to become for a future is rather like the Latin fui, and show a different way of
forming a future than the sense of intention which English uses with shall and will.

As previously mentioned, it is not only verbs that show suppletion. Nouns such as person are
suppletive, as I will explain, and common adjectives such as good or bad are also suppletive.
It would take a far more comprehensive discussion of suppletion and how it affects words
depending on frequency in language, however, I feel that it is clear enough that suppletion
(like other irregularities) occurs predominantly in the most frequently used words in a
language. Yet, this frequency may have changed in the descendant language now spoken.

People is often used as the simple plural form of person and yet people seldom consider
how odd this is. Person comes via Old French from the Latin persona which probably comes
from the Etruscan phersu. (N.B. person is a doublet of parson.) Persona was a standard
singular countable noun in Latin. This over time replaced the Middle English wight which
was a standard singular noun.

People, on the other hand, comes via Middle English from the Old French peeple which is
from the Latin populus. Populus was a singular uncountable noun, but as the Middle English
lede (which the OF peeple replaced) was a plural noun, peeple became used as a plural. And
so over time, the regular plural of person (persons) was replaced by the use of people as a
plural. As such the now old plural persons tends to be very formal and so is not normally
used in speech, and only used in formulaic written English of a high register.

This suppletive nature of nouns is less common than in adjectives, and this can be seen by
exploring the two most common adjectives in English: good and bad. Both these adjectives
show suppletion when considering their comparative and superlative forms. This can be
seen in other languages as well, consider the Latin equivalents: bonus2, melior, optimus and
malus, peior, pessimus.

Good comes from Middle English good from Old English gōd from Proto-Germanic *godaz
from Proto-Indo-European *ghedh (to gather/unite). Better comes from Middle English
better from Old English betera from Proto-Germanic *batiza from Proto-Indo-European
*bhed-ros. Best similarly comes from Middle English beste Old English betest from the same
Proto-Germanic. As seen even in Old English the adjective was suppletive and this probably
stems from a Proto-Germanic, or earlier, usage. The ancestors of good originally meant
something like ‘united’ or ‘gathered’ and this shifted as Proto-Germanic bhed increased in

2
The etymology of bonus is very interesting: It comes from the Old Latin duenos (due to complex sound
changes) and in turn from the Proto-Italic *dwenos from Proto-Indo-European *dew-. Other interesting sound
changes as words evolve is lacrima (tears) which comes from the Old Latin dacrima from the Proto-Indo-
European *dakru and so is more obviously a cognate of the Greek δακρυον (dacruon) (I will further explore
such sound changes in a future article.)
semantic force. Similar things happened with bad, worse, worst. (N.B. Middle English used
efyl (evil) as the most common way of saying something bad, and it is only more recently
that evil has gained more religious or moralistic connotations.) Bad comes from Middle
English bad which comes either from the Old English baeddal3 (hermaphrodite) or Old Norse
bad (fear/trouble). Worse from Middle English worse Old English wyrsa Proto-Germanic
*wirsizo.

It is interesting to note that worse has also become used as the comparative form of ill. Ill
comes from Middle English Ille from Old Norse illr from Proto-Germanic *ilhilaz from Proto-
Indo-European *h1elf. This shows the general semantic shift of ill from general bad to a
more specific form and shows how suppletion can link together different words of similar
meaning as one suppletive form might serve multiple other words.

As I hope that I have shown, suppletion is a key part of language evolution and is behind
many of the most complex irregularities that make language so interesting. I have found
writing this article hard, in that it would be easy to write on for pages, exploring each
interesting example of suppletion I see.

Suppletion also shows how words can shift in meaning, and the flexibility of language which
reuses and adapts the use of words to fill any form that it is missing. It is also so easy and
rewarding to find examples of suppletion. All you need is to be able to look up the
etymology of a word, and see if one form came from a different stem than other. Then the
fun part of considering why this might have happened and what wider effect this has on the
language.

3
The loss of an ending like the -al of baeddal is seen in other words such as much from the Old English mycel.
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