Irish Language Blog

(le Róislín)

Our last blog dealt with places names like Ceanada and Cúba, which take “urú,” and additional place names like Meicsiceo or Sasana, which are not subject to “urú” because of the letters they happen to start with. 

As you may recall, the “urú” examples work like this:

Tá sé ina chónaí i gCeanada. 

Tá mé ar saoire i bhFidsí.

If the first letter happens not to take “urú,” then, as, for example, the letters “m” and “s,” there’s no change at all (for a change!):

Phéinteáil Diego Rivera múrmhaisithe i Meiriceá (sna cathracha Detroit, Nua-Eabhrac, agus San Francisco) agus i Meicsiceo (sna cathracha Cathair Mheicsiceo agus Cuernavaca, agus sa bhaile Chapingo). 

Or, for some shorter examples,

Tá mé i mo chónaí i Meicsiceo. 

Tá mé i mo chónaí i Moscó. 

Or, to break from always saying where someone lives,

Tá Saskatoon i Saskatchewan. 

For the rest of this blog, we’ll deal with place names that happen to begin with vowels and which do not use the definite article (i.e., not An Astráil, An Éigipt, srl., which will have to wait till we deal with place names including the word “the”).

Good news?  Place names beginning with vowels are pretty straightforward.  Our preposition “i” changes to “in,” making it look more like the English word “in.”  No harm there, though it’s important to remember that the basic form is still just the single letter“i.”  As mentioned in an earlier blog, these phrases used to be written with the “n” attached to the following word, like “i nAmstardam” or “i nÉirinn,” but that is no longer the norm. 

Here are some examples, again with a little breakaway from the “Tá mé i mo chónaí” pattern.  Italics are used here to draw attention to the place name usage.

Tá teach Anne Frank in Amstardam.

Labhraíonn cuid de na daoine in Eacuadór Ceatsuais. 

Rugadh Bob Marley in Iamáice.

Osclaíodh Músaem Kon-Tiki in Osló sa bhliain 1949; bhí an turas é féin sa bhliain 1947.

Tugtar “Irish” ar na prátaí bána a itear in Uganda chun iad a idirdhealú ó ionaim; bíonn na prátaí bána “Irish” seo níos costasaí ná na hionaim.  Má amharcann tú ar an Idirlíon, feicfidh tú a lán tagairtí do théarmaí mar “Uganda’s Irish Potato Sector,” “Irish Potato Sales”in Uganda, agus “Irish Potato Growing Districts” in Uganda.

Closer to home, for the Irish, we could also practice the preposition “in” in front of vowels using the following place names.  Aistriúcháin thíos.

1)Tá cónaí ar “Niseag” in Albain, de réir traidisiúin.

2) Tá “Mucky” ina c(h)ónaí in Éirinn, i Loch Mhucrois i gContae Chiarraí (de réir traidisiúin, arís).  Inscne Mucky, duine ar bith?  *Criptea-ainmhí baineann?  Fireann?  Ina cónaí?  Ina chónaí?

3) Tá ceanncheathrú Chumann Surfála na hÉireann in Iascaigh, i gContae Shligigh.

4) Cé mhéad acra atá in Ocht nAcra is Ochtó (ainm baile fearainn in aice le Baile Átha Buí i gContae na Mí)?  Ocht n-acra is ochtó, is dócha.   (Note the punctuation difference?  Proper noun “nA” vs. generic noun “n-a.”  The wonders of punctuation never cease!)

5) Cuireadh Michael Furey, carachtar ó “The Dead,” gearrscéal de chuid James Joyce, in Uachtar Ard, Co. na Gaillimhe, de réir an scéil.

Can you figure out what place names are involved here?  Freagraí thíos:

a. in Eochaill, Contae Chorcaí

b. in Iostanbúl, An Tuirc

c. in Úlla, Contae Luimnigh

d. in Órán Mór, Contae na Gaillimhe.  Ar an ábhar sin, an bhfuil a fhios ag duine ar bith ar an liosta ar osclaíodh an stáisiún traenach sa bhaile seo mar a bhí beartaithe don bhliain 2011?  Más amhlaidh gur osclaíodh, hurá d’iompar poiblí!

e. in Aird Mhór, Co. Phort Láirge (as opposed to various similarly named places like “An Aird Mhóir” and “An tArd Mór,” which will have to wait for the blog for place names with the definite article; residents of Pennsylvania and Oklahoma can be on the ready for the Irish-language namesake of their hometowns.)

Gluais: ábhar, subject, topic; beartaithe, decided; ceanncheathrú, headquarters; costasach, costly, expensive; cuireadh, was buried; de réir, according to; gearrscéal, short story; idirdhealú, to distinguish; iompar, transportation, transit, also “carrying” in general; ionam, yam; itear, are eaten; más amhlaidh, if so, if thus; múrmhaisiú, mural; osclaíodh, was opened; saoire, holiday; tagairt, reference

Ainmneacha na gcriptea-ainmhithe: Niseag, Nessie [Gaeilge na hAlban, ach cóngarach go leor, is dócha]; Mucky, earc uisce Loch Mhucrois.  N.B.: criptea- = crypto-.  Ní bhfuair mé aon Ghaeilge ar “cryptid” in aon áit.  Mar sin, d’úsáid mé “criptea-ainmhí.”  Sásúil go leor, is dócha.

Aistriúcháin: 1) in Scotland [for Albain, say “AHL-uh-bin,” three syllables]; 2) in Ireland; 3) in Easkey; 4) in Eightyeight Acres [sic]; 5) in Oughterard [pronounced a lot like the Irish, Uachtar Ard, [OO-ukh-tur AWRD], but the anglicized spelling glides the first two syllables closer together, more like “awkh”]

Freagraí: a) Youghal, Co. Cork; b) Istanbul, Turkey; c) Oola, Co. Limerick; d) Oranmore, Co. Galway; e) Ardmore, Co. Waterford

(le Róislín)

Here are some more possibilities for saying where you live, according to country, to follow up on the flurry of interest after the recent “ghost-town” blog (an blag faoin scáilbhaile).  This blog will just deal with ainmneacha tíortha that don’t include the definite article, like Ceanada, Meicsiceo, Sasana, Stáit Aontaithe Mheiriceá.  Irish, unlike English, does use the definite article with many, though not all, country names (An Bheilg, An tSile, An Bhreatain Bheag, Na Stáit Aontaithe (if leaving out the “Mheiriceá” part), srl., but  that will be ábhar blag eile. 

For place names that don’t include the definite article, Ceanada, mar shampla, we apply urú (eclipsis), i gCeanada, m. sh.).   Of course, certain consonants are not subject to eclipsis, so in those cases, there is no change to the initial consonant (i Vítneam, i Singeapór, srl.)

Although this blog mostly discusses countries as such, for a few examples I’ve used territories, cities, or other geographic subdivisions.

Here are some more examples of saying “in + place name” when there’s no definite article, with a rough pronunciation guide in brackets:

Tá mé i mo chónaí i mBuircíne Fasó. [i-MURK-een-yuh fah-soh, silent “B”]

Tá mé i mo chónaí i gCúba. [i-GOO-buh, silent “C”]

Tá mé i mo chónaí i nDoiminice.  [in-IM-in-ik-yuh, silent “D”]

Tá mé i mo chónaí i bhFidsí. [iv-ID-shee, silent “F”]

Tá mé i mo chónaí i nGána. [ing-AW-nuh, “n+g” run together as in “singing”]

Tá mé i mo chónaí i bParagua. [ib-AHR-uh-goo-uh, silent “P”]

Tá mé i mo chónaí i dTaihítí (cuid de Pholainéis na Fraince). [id-ah-HEE-tchee, silent “T”] 

I’m not sure if we’ll have many léitheoirí from any of those places.  They’re a little far afield from eipealár ghluaiseacht na Gaeilge, but in this era of cibearGhaeltachtaí, one never knows.  Why aren’t places like France or Germany represented more prominently here, you might wonder?  It’s a matter of linguistic convention.  Most of the larger European countries, as well as the more traditional-style place names globally, use the definite article (An Fhrainc, An Ghearmáin, An tSín, srl.) and that causes a different sound change (séimhiú), best handled, I think, i mblag eile (in another blog). 

As you may have noticed, the following consonants are omitted from the group above, since they wouldn’t take eclipsis anyway: h, j, k, l, m, n, q, r, s, v, w, x, y, z. 

There are actually more consonants that aren’t affected by urú than consonants that are affected by it, but some of these exceptions (j, k, q, v, w, x, y, z) are pretty rare in Irish.  They are even rarer for country names, since most possible examples get gaelicized and start with a different letter (Jamaica, for example, becomes “Iamáice” and Zimbabwe becomes “An tSiombáib”).  So, to wrap up, here is an assortment of countries, regions, cities, and other geographical entities that undergo no change to the initial consonant after the word “i”: i Háítí, i Jammu, i Meicsiceo, i Sainsibeár (oileán, iarshabhdánacht, srl.), i Sasana, i Stáit Aontaithe Mheiriceá, i Xenia (cathair in Ohio), agus i Zelienople (buirg i bPennsylvania).

Still to come (ábhar blag eile, or perhaps, ábhar blaganna eile), place names with the definite article (An Astráil, An tSile, srl.) and place names starting with gutaí, since you may have noticed that the latter aren’t represented here at all yet.  The place names starting with vowels do involve eclipsis, but in a sort of, hmm, transplanted way, since the “n-“ showing eclipsis of a vowel actually gets tacked onto the preceding “i.”  Like I said, “ábhar blag eile.  But it may sound more complicated when described than it is in practice, since many have you have probably already been using phrases that exemplify this,  like “in Éirinn” or “in Albain,” since you started Irish.  These often used to be written as “i nÉirinn” and “i nAlbain,” showing the eclipsis more clearly, but this isn’t the typical practice today.   

Any takers for na háiteanna seo a leanas?  Which ones requires an initial change to say “in + place name” and which ones don’t?  An bhfuil tú i do chónaí i gceann de na háiteanna sin?  Live there?  N.B. This first batch is a mixture of cities and countries.  Freagraí thíos.

Búcairist?  Lucsamburg?  Camarún?  Monacó?  Málta?  Páras?  Nasaireit? 

And to throw in a few back in Éirinn:

Gaillimh?  Baile Átha Cliath?  Port Láirge?  Loch Garman?  Muiceanach idir Dhá Sháile?

Sin é don bhlag seo, sgf, or maybe I should now try out “slán@@,” for those who like bilingual puzzlers.  I guess the monolingual version would just be “slán@.”– Róislín

Freagraí: i mBúcairist, i Lucsamburg, i gCamarún, i Monacó, i Málta, i bPáras, i Nasaireit

Áiteanna in Éirinn: i nGaillimh, i mBaile Átha Cliath, i bPort Láirge, i Loch Garman, i Muiceanach idir Dhá Sháile

And in case there’s any doubt as to what these places are in English: Bucharest, Luxembourg, Cameroon, Monaco, Malta, Paris, Nazareth, Galway, Dublin, Waterford, Wexford, and, last, but far from least, Muckanaghederdauhaulia

P.S. An Cúigiú Díochlaonadh, coming back one of these days.  “Ar sos.”

Agus mé ag éisteacht leis an raidió le déanaí, chuala mé clár faoi neamhshlándáil bia.  Bhí an clár i mBéarla ach shocraigh mé ag an am go scríobhfainn blag faoi théarmaí Gaeilge a bhaineanns le bia.  Níl mé ag caint anseo faoi chineálacha áirithe bia mar thrátaí grianthromaithe nó vaiféil, ach go ginearálta, faoi bhia agus ocras agus a leithéid.

While I was listening to the radio recently, I heard a program about food insecurity.  The program was in English but I decided at the time that I would write a blog about Irish terms pertaining to food.  I’m not talking here about specific types of food, like sun-dried tomatoes or waffles, but generally, about food, hunger, and the like. 

So here are the basics:

Tá ocras orm [taw OK-russ OR-um], I’m hungry, lit. hunger is on me.

Hunger, like many other feelings (tart, thirst; brón, sadness, srl.), is “on you” in Irish. 

There is an adjective “ocrach” (hungry), but it is reserved more for saying someone has a “hungry appearance” (cuma ocrach) or for being abstract (na blianta ocracha, the hungry years; talamh ocrach, hungry soil, srl.).  “Ocrasach” is a variation. 

You might be asked, “An bhfuil ocras ort?” (Are you hungry, lit. Is there hunger on you?)

Possible answers could be:

Tá, tá ocras orm: Yes, I’m hungry.

Níl, d’ith mé tamaillín ó shin: No, I ate a little while ago.  But don’t try turning down a cup of tea in Ireland – somehow it’s just not done.  Actually, let me revise that.  Often what’s done is that you politely decline the tea the first time it’s offered.  Then it will probably be offered again, so turn it down again but sounding a little more hesitant.  But you’re still saying you don’t want to put your host to any trouble and your host is insisting it’s no trouble at all at all.  But the tea will probably be offered a third time, at which time most people will acquiesce and accept the tea.  Which everyone knew all along would be the likely outcome.  I know that’s a bit of a scéal thairis (digression), so let’s get back to hunger.    

If you’re really hungry, you could say:

Tá mé stiúgtha leis an ocras [… SHT^YOOG-huh lesh un OK-russ], I’m perished with hunger (famished). 

So, “ocras” is the word most commonly used to describe hunger that an individual feels.  Turning to the more somber side of the issue though, and to the reason why “slándáil bia” is such an important topic these days, we have the word “gorta.”  In fact, this word has pretty much entered the vocabulary everyone should know to discuss even the basics of Irish history, when speaking English, since the phrase “An Gorta Mór” (The Great Hunger) appears to have largely replaced the term “potato famine” referring to the 1845 to 1851 time period.  

If one is very new to learning the Irish language, but has read in general on Irish history, one might well have encountered the word “gorta” before learning the word “ocras.”  In that case, it might seem surprising that there’s this shift in vocabulary, that one can’t just take the word “hunger” from the phrase “An Gorta Mór” and drop it into the everyday question, “Are you hungry?”  But this kind of thing happens regularly with languages, one word for one context and another word, meaning almost the same thing, for another context. 

So how else is the word “gorta” used, aside from the phrase “An Gorta Mór”?  Here are some samples:

bliain ghorta, a year of famine

bás den ghorta, death from starvation or famine

There’s also the phrase, “Bhí gorta air” meaning “He was weak with hunger.”  In my experience, however, that’s not used in everyday situations, even when one feels starving simply because it’s been some hours since one’s last meal.  In that case, the phrase with “stiúgtha” would be more likely.  In fact, for any of us in a country or region where “slándáil bia” is not an active concern, I think we tend to use the phrase “starving” even when we’re nowhere near the medical definition.

And having said all of this, yes, there is some overlap.  For example, there are at least two ways to say someone starved to death: “Fuair sé bás den ocras” or “Fuair sé bás den ghorta.”  In both cases, the more literal translation is “he got death from (the) hunger.”

To end on a more upbeat note, there’s also the well-known seanfhocal, “Is maith an t-anlann an t-ocras” (Hunger is the best sauce).  Nice for the thought and nice also as a reminder about inserting the letter “t-“ after the definite article (“an”) when dealing with an “ainmfhocal” which is both “fireannach” (masculine) and “uatha” (singular) and which starts “le guta” (with a vowel).  Had to end on a grammar note, didn’t I?  Bhuel, tá mé ag dul amach le haghaidh bróinse.  Tá ocras orm anois agus is dócha go gcuirfidh sin anlann ar an mbia!

Nóta ginearálta:  It’s at least another blog’s worth, but there are dozens of other terms like “An Gorta Mór” that are used when discussing Irish history (in English) that either have no English equivalent or for which the literal English translation doesn’t have the same nuance as the Irish.  The same is true, of course, for other languages around the world, with terms such as “raj,” “glasnost,” or “wampum.”  In fact, it’s also true for some English terms that might be used in discussing American history in Irish, such as “the Pilgrim Fathers,” for which the Irish term is “na Pilgrim Fathers.”  One could always take “pilgrim” (oilithreach) and “father” (athair) and construct a term, but in some cases, it’s best just to leave the term in its original language.