Ingham of Arabia Studies in Semitic Languages and Linguistics

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Editorial board Aaron D. Rubin and C.H.M. Versteegh

VOLUME 69

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Ingham of Arabia

A Collection of Articles Presented as a Tribute to the Career of Bruce Ingham

Edited by Clive Holes and Rudolf de Jong

Leiden • boston 2013 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Ingham of Arabia : a collection of articles presented as a tribute to the career of Bruce Ingham / edited by Clive Holes and Rudolf de Jong. pages cm. — (Studies in Semitic languages and linguistics ; 69) Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978-90-04-25617-0 (hardback : alk. paper) — ISBN 978-90-04-25619-4 (e-book) 1. Arabic language—Dialects. 2. Sociolinguistics—Arab countries. I. Holes, Clive, 1948– editor of compilation. II. Jong, Rudolf de editor of compilation. III. Ingham, Bruce honouree.

PJ6709.I54 2013 492.7’7—dc23 2013021421

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This book is printed on acid-free paper. contents

Preface ...... vii

Bibliography Bruce Ingham ...... xi

About Bedouin Tents and other Tents, or “Tent Terminology as an Example of Semantic Shift” ...... 1 Peter Behnstedt and Manfred Woidich

Tense and Aspect in Semitic: A Case Study Based on the Arabic of the Omani Šarqiyya and the Mehri of Dhofar ...... 23 Domenyk Eades and Janet C.E. Watson

From Phonological Variation to Grammatical Change: Depalatalisation of /č/ in Salti ...... 55 Bruno Herin and Enam Al-Wer

Representation of Women’s Language in Negev Bedouin Men’s Texts ...... 75 Roni Henkin

An Arabic Text from Ṣūr, Oman ...... 87 Clive Holes

Grammaticalizations Based on the Verb kāna in Arabic Dialects ...... 109 Otto Jastrow

Texts in Sinai Bedouin Dialects ...... 119 Rudolf de Jong

Lexical Notes on the Dialect of Mayadin (Eastern Syria) in the Late 1970s, with Jean Cantineau’s Fieldnotes of 1935 ...... 151 Jérôme Lentin vi contents

Chapter 504 and Modern Arabic Dialectology: What are Kaškaša and Kaskasa, Really? ...... 173 Jonathan Owens

Interesting Facts on Ancient Mounds—Three Texts in the Bedouin Arabic Dialect of the Harran-Urfa Region (Southeastern Turkey) ...... 203 Stephan Procházka

Antigemination as Morphosemantic Integrity in Arabic Dialects ...... 215 Kirsty Rowan

Index ...... 233 PREFACE

Ingham of Arabia brings together contributions from many researchers in the world of Arabic dialectology and sociolinguistics who wish to cel- ebrate the career of our dear colleague and friend Bruce Ingham on the occasion of his retirement from full-time academic life. Like Premiership footballers who spend their careers at one club, Bruce is a rarity: he spent his entire academic life at the School of Oriental and African Studies of the University of London. A Londoner by birth, he was admitted to SOAS in 1961 as an undergraduate to read for a degree in Arabic and Persian, and then became successively a Lecturer (whilst still a doctoral research student), and finally a full Professor—all in that same leafy corner of Bloomsbury near the British Museum. For many years now, he has been a dominant figure in British and European Arabic dialectology, and a worthy successor to his late, and much-lamented teacher Tom Johnstone, one of the pioneers of modern Arabian dialectology and the study of the Modern South Arabian languages. Bruce began his research career with a series of articles in the ‘house journal’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies. Two of these, published in 1973 and 1976, were on the Arabic dialects of southern Iraq and Khuzistan, based on the PhD field-work he had done there. At this point, southern Iraq was still largely terra incognita to Arabic dialectology. Bruce’s presentation and linguistic terminology (e.g. ‘verbal piece’) immediately marked him as a product of the Firthian ‘London School of Linguistics’, which also produced such luminaries as Michael Halliday. But these two articles were much more than a young research student’s mechanical application of someone else’s method: they were among the first pieces of dialectological research in Arabic to build life-style factors fully into the description, with the differentiation of ‘urban’ and ‘rural’ dialect types, foreshadowing much of his later (and others’) work on Arabia and the Gulf. These early articles were followed by studies of the dialect of the Mutayr tribe of Kuwait (1979) and a sketch of Najdi Arabic in Fischer and Jastrow’s Arabic dialectology reader (1980), which pointed to the direction in which Bruce’s research would go geographically—Central Arabia. His first full-length book was North-East Arabian Dialects, published by KPI in 1982. This beautifully written early study, a model of concision, viii preface clarity, and economy of statement, interweaves the threads which would mark Bruce’s later work—a deep understanding of the cycles of Arabian tribal population movements over time; an ability to record dialect usage with meticulous accuracy, but at the same time see beyond the fine details of synchronic language data to the diachronic dynamics of sociolinguistic change which underlay them; and an ethnographer’s love of oral culture, which in Arabia is such a rich repository of local history, tribal lore and verbal art. It is one of those books which when you put it down (but then return to again and again) you say to yourself ‘I wish I’d written that’. A string of substantial articles followed throughout the 1980s and 90s: on the dialect of the Dhafir of Kuwait and Saudi Arabia (1982); the dialect of the Al Murra of southern Najd and Qatar (1986); Bedouin camel terminology (1990); Khuzistani Arabic (1991); subordinate clauses in Bedouin dialects (1991); the sālfa as a narrative genre (1993); Afghanistan Arabic (1994); the dialect of the Rwala of northern Arabia (1995); and a series of articles on Bedouin dress. In 1997, Ithaca published in book form a useful, edited collection of some of these articles under the title Arabian Diver- sions. There were also, in this period, two substantial books. The first, Bedouin of Northern Arabia: traditions of the Dhafir (1986), included much tribal history and dialect poetry of this major north Arabian tribe, and it was later translated into Arabic and published in Kuwait; the second was a short but magisterial study on the dialects of central Arabia, Najdi Arabic (1994). This latter work bears witness to Bruce’s deep understanding of how Najdi Arabic works as a language system at all levels of analysis. And lest we are persuaded by the seemingly endless studies of easily accessible modern urban dialects like Cairene into thinking that all Arabic dialects are developing like European languages, Najdi Arabic lays bare the structures of a variety of Arabic that has developed, particularly in its treatment of tense, aspect and Aktionsart, in a direction different from the Arabic vernaculars of the eastern Mediterranean. It can be seen from this (abbreviated) list that by the mid-90s Bruce’s interests had begun to range widely over material culture, ethnography, and poetry as well as his first love, language. But his next move was in a totally unexpected direction: the Indian languages of North America! Beginning in the mid-1990s, Bruce published half-a-dozen academic papers on the Lakota language of North and South Dakota in the USA, estimated to be spoken by 20,000 Sioux Indians. In 2001, he published an English- Lakota dictionary of 285 pages and 12,000 entries. The book was launched at the American embassy in London. Bruce was also presented with a star blanket (a traditional Plains Indian honouring gift) at the annual powwow preface ix and cultural festival at the University of Vermillion, South Dakota in the same year. The aim of this book was to preserve Indian culture and illustrate the use of words in context, especially syntactic words, whose usage cannot be captured purely by giving an English equivalent. The data-base for the dictionary was books written in Lakota, recorded Lakota texts in archives, textbooks on the language, previous dictionaries, ethnographic and anthropological studies which include Lakota texts, sound recordings which Bruce acquired, and occasional short field-trips he made to the area. An introduction describes the phonetics, the grammar and the history of Lakota. Bruce explained this departure from Arabic dialectology in terms of ‘needing a break’ from Arabia, but at the same time it enabled him to pursue his anthropological interest in documenting the structure of a language (‘beautifully intricate’ is his description) and the customs of a culture whose ‘take’ on the world has been frozen in time, in a period when even the more remote corners of Arabia were moving apace into the paraphernalia of information technology and the globalised world. To the relief of those in the field of Arabic dialectology, however, Bruce’s excursion into North American Indian languages has not meant that he has bid farewell to Arabia, and, as the list of his recent publications below shows, he is still as productive as ever in this field in retirement. Bruce has always been a gregarious and popular figure at academic gatherings, and has always given freely of his time to his students. He has not a trace of conceit or vanity in his make-up. Typical is a story he told me against himself when I hardly knew him, of a trip he had made to Cambridge when a member of London University’s boxing team, in which he was, as he put it, ‘flattened and outclassed’ by his opponent. Bruce’s stories about his time in Arabia are legion. One is that, after a long absence, he finally came back on a visit to a tribe he used to travel around with. In honour of his visit, they organised a festive meal and slaughtered a sheep. But when everyone moved into the tent, Bruce noticed that the places next to the sheep’s tail remained empty, whereas he remembered that before these were the places taken first, because the tail was considered the best part of the animal. When he asked why this was, they answered him ‘kulistirool’. Bruce could be mischievous. One story (apoc- ryphal, possibly, but if it didn’t happen it should have) has Bruce on the search for dialect poetry, and being directed by tribesmen to someone who they said knew a lot about it. After the formal introductions, Bruce recited to the tribal poet a few lines of one of the most famous of the pre-Islamic odes of Classical Arabic, and asked for an explanation of what they meant. Without missing a beat, the illiterate poet, who had x preface clearly never heard these lines before, explained their meaning perfectly, noting only that there were a couple of words which were unfamiliar to him but that was probably because they were in the dialect of ahl iš-šimāl ‘the folks from up north’—that is, of Najd. This is a standard throw-away line to excuse ignorance, a bit like saying in English: ‘Ah, yes, that’s what them lot over there say’. But this anecdote is proof, if it were needed, of the extraordinary degree of continuity in Bedouin oral culture. Bruce Ingham has spent his career being fascinated by, and recording, ordinary people and their lives, whether Bedouin Arabs or North American Indians, believing that these at first sight marginalised groups in fact have a great deal to tell us about the human condition and human language. All his colleagues fervently wish that, despite the sudden and devastating loss of his beloved Shokooh, he will continue to be driven by this simple working philosophy for many more years to come.

Allāh yiḥfaḏ̣k, yā inghām lǝ-bduwī!

November 2012 Oxford Clive Holes Cairo Rudolf de Jong BIBLIOGRAPHY BRUCE INGHAM

1971 ‘Some characteristics of Meccan speech’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, xxxiv, 2, pp. 273–297. 1973 ‘Urban and rural Arabic in Khuzistan’, Bulletin of the School of Ori- ental and African Studies, xxxvi, pp. 533–553. 1974 ‘Arabic speech audiometry’ (with H.A. Alusi, R. Hinchliffe, J.J. Knight and C. North). In: Audiology, (Basel), xiii, pp. 212–230. 1976 ‘Regional and social factors in the dialect geography of Southern Iraq and Khuzistan’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, xxxix, 1, pp. 62–82. 1977 ‘Comparison of the verbal system in child and adult speech in Persian’, N. Waterson and C.E. Snow [eds] The Development of Communication Social and Pragmatic Factors in Language Acqui- sition, Wiley, pp. 333–346. 1979 ‘Notes on the dialect of the Mutair of Eastern Arabia’, Zeitschrift für Arabische Linguistik 2, pp. 23–35. 1980a ‘Najdi Arabic Text’. In: W. Fischer and O. Jastrow [eds] Handbuch der Arabischen Dialekte. Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz, pp. 130–139. 1980b ‘Languages of the Persian Gulf ’. In: A.J. Cottrell [ed] The Persian Gulf States: A General Survey. Johns Hopkins University Press, pp. 314–33. 1980c ‘al-zaman wa al-wujhah fi al-lughah al-‘arabiyyah wa al-lughah al-injiliziyyah’. In: Proc 1st Int. Symposium on Teaching Arabic to non-Arabic Speakers, i, Riyadh, pp. 136–448. 1982a Arabic Phrase Book (with Z. Inoughi and E. Swinglehurst). London. Hamlyn. 1982b North East Arabian Dialects. London. Kegan Paul International. 1982c ‘Notes on the dialect of the Dhafir of north-eastern Arabia’. Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies xlv, 3, pp. 245–259. 1983a ‘Arabic linguistics in the United Kingdom’. In: M.H. Bakalla, Ara- bic Linguistics an Introduction and Bibliography. London. Mansell, pp. xii–xv. 1985 ‘Kuwaiti Arabic dialect’. In: John Whelan [ed] Kuwait a MEED Practical Guide. London. Middle East Economic Digest, pp. 67–69. 4 xii bibliography bruce ingham

1986a ‘Notes on the dialect of the Al Murrah of Eastern and Southern Arabia’. Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, xlix, 2, pp. 271–291. 1986b Bedouin of Northern Arabia: traditions of the Al Dhafir. London. Kegan Paul International. 1988 ‘The Pool of Oaths: a comparative study of a bedouin historical poem’. In: A.K. Irvine, R.B. Serjeant G. Rex Smith [eds], A Miscel- lany of Middle Eastern Articles: In Memoriam Thomas Muir John- stone 1924–83, London. Longman, pp. 40–54. 1990 ‘Camel terminology among the Al Murrah bedouins’. Zeitschrift für Arabische Linguistik 22, pp. 67–78. 1991a ‘Subordinate clauses of time and condition in Bedouin dialects’. Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, liv, 1, pp. 42–62. 1991b ‘Men’s dress in the Arabian peninsula’. In: BRISMES Proceedings of the 1991 International Conference on Middle Eastern Studies, Lon- don, pp. 51–56. 1991c ‘Sentence structure in Khuzistani Arabic’. In: Alan S. Kaye [ed] Semitic Studies in Honour of Wolf Leslau on the Occasion of his Eighty Fifth Birthday November 14th, 1991, vol i, UCLA, pp. 714– 728. 1993a ‘Mutayr’. Encyclopaedia of Islam. Leiden. Brill, pp. 782–783. 1993b ‘The Salfah as a narrative genre’. Asian Folklore Studies. lii, 1. Nagoya, pp. 5–32. 1993c ‘Number and gender concord in Najdi Arabic’. In: SOAS Working Papers in Linguistics and Phonetics vol 3, pp. 219–227. 1994a Najdi Arabic: Central Arabian. John Benjamins. Amsterdam/Phila- delphia. LOALL Series. 1994b ‘The Arabic language in Iran’. In: Kees Versteegh [ed] Arabic Out- side the Arab World Special Issue of Indian Journal of Applied Lin- guistics IJOAL 20, no. 1 and 2 pp. 103–116. ISSN 0379 0037 1994c ‘The language situation in Afghanistan’. In: R.E. Asher [ed] The Encyclopedia of Language and Linguistics 1, pp. 46–47. Pergamon Press. New York. Seoul. Tokyo 1994 ( Jan). 1994d ‘The language situation in Iran’. In: R.E. Asher [ed] The Encyclope- dia of Language and Linguistics 4, pp. 1773–1774. Pergamon Press. New York. Seoul. Tokyo. bibliography bruce ingham xiii

1994e ‘The Language situation in Qatar’. In: R.E. Asher [ed] The Encyclo- pedia of Language and Linguistics 6, p. 3415. Pergamon Press. New York. Seoul. Tokyo. 1994f ‘Ethnolinguistic links between southern Iraq and Khuzistan’. In: K.S. McLachlan [ed] The Boundaries of Modern Iran. pp. 93–100. London University College Press. 1994g ‘The effect of language contact on the Arabic dialect of Afghani- stan’. In: Jordi Aguade, Federico Corriente y Marina Marugan [eds] Actas del Congreso Internacional sobre Interferencias Linguisticas Arabo-Romances y Paralelos Extra-Iberos, pp. 105–117. Zaragoza. 1994h ‘Modality in the Arabic dialect of Najd’. In: Dominique Caubet and Martine Vanhove [eds] Actes des premières journées internationales de dialectologie arabe de Paris pp. 185–200. Paris. Publica- tions Langues ’O. 1995a ‘Texts in the dialect of the Rwalah of Northern Arabia’. In: Tapani Harviainen and Harry Halen [eds], Dialectologia Arabica—A Col- lection of Articles in Honour of the Sixtieth Birthday of Professor Heikki Palva. Studia Orientalia, pp. 121–140. 1995b Translation of 1986b above Bedouin of Northern Arabia: Tradi- tions of the Al Dhafir Kegan Paul International 1986 into Arabic as Qabilat Al Dhafir Dirasa Lughawiyyah muqarinah by ‘Atiyyah bin Kuraim al-Dhafiri published in Kuwait. 1995c Introduction to Simple Etiquette in Arabia and the Gulf States Global Books Ltd. Folkestone. ISBN 1-86034-005-9. 1996 ‘Demonstrative stems in Lakota’. In: SOAS Working Papers in Linguistics and Phonetics vol 6, pp. 385–410. 5 1997a Arabian Diversions: Studies in the Dialects of Arabia. Ithaca Press. 1997b Languages of Dress in the Middle East [ed] with Nancy Lindisfarne Tapper. Curzon Press. Richmond Surrey. 1997c ‘Approaches to the study of dress in the Middle East’ (with Nancy Lindisfarne Tapper). In: Ingham and Nancy Lindisfarne Tapper [eds] Languages of Dress in the Middle East. Curzon Press. Richmond Surrey, pp. 1–39. 1997d ‘Men’s dress in the Arabian Peninsula: historical and present perspectives’. In: Ingham and Nancy Lindisfarne Tapper [eds] Languages of dress in the Middle East. Curzon Press. Richmond Surrey, pp. 40–54. 1997e ‘Archery texts from the Lakota Sioux’. In: Journal of the Society of Archer-Antiquaries 6, pp. 59–61. xiv bibliography bruce ingham

1998a ‘Demonstrative stems in Lakhota’. In: International Journal of American Linguistics 64 ii, pp. 105–140. 1998b ‘Nominal or verbal status in Lakhota: a lexicographical study’. In: SOAS Working Papers in Linguistics and Phonetics vol 8, pp. 385–410. 1999 ‘The dialect of the “Marsh Arabs” of Southern Mesopotamia’. In: SOAS Working Papers in Linguistics vol 9, pp. 417–424. 2000a ‘The dialect of the Miʿdan or ‘Marsh Arabs’. In: Manwel Mifsud [ed] Proceedings of the Third International Conference of AIDA, Malta 1988. Malta. Salesian Press, pp. 125–130. 2000b ‘‘Utub’. In: Encyclopaedia of Islam vol 10. Leiden. Brill, pp. 955–957. 2000c ‘An investigation of the occurrence of the emphatic suffixes -hca, -hce and -hci in Lakota’. In: SOAS Working Papers in Linguistics vol 10, pp. 193–201. 2001a English-Lakota Dictionary. Curzon Press. Richmond. 2001b ‘The Bedouins of Qatar in the light of cultural interaction’. In: Aram vol 11–12 (1999–2000), pp. 181–188. 2001c ‘Function of the post nominal element ki/k’un in Lakota’. In: SOAS Working Papers in Linguistics vol 11, pp. 249–257. 2001d ‘Nominal and Verbal status in Lakhota: a lexicographical study’. In: International Journal of American Linguistics 67 ii, pp. 167–192. 2002a ‘Technicalities and terminology of raiding and warfare as revealed by Bedouin oral narratives’. In: Proceedings of an International Conference on Middle Eastern Popular Culture, Magdalen College, Oxford, pp. 66–76. 2002b ‘Semantic fields in Bedouin dialects’. In: Werner Arnold and Hart- mut Bobzin [eds] “Sprich doch mit deinen Knechten aramäisch, wir verstehen es!” 60 Beiträge zur Semitistik. Festschrift für Otto Jastrow zum 60. Geburtstag, Wiesbaden. Otto Harrassowitz, pp. 299–309. 2003a Lakota: Languages of the World materials 426. München. Lincom Europa. ISBN 3895868442. 2003b ‘The function of the post-nominal element ki~k’un in Lakota’. In: Transactions of the Philological Society vol 101 iii, pp. 371–410. ISSN 0079 1636. 2004a [appeared in 2003 expanded version of 2002a above] ‘Techni- calities and terminology of raiding and warfare as revealed by Bedouin oral narratives’. In: Martine Haak, Rudolf de Jong and Kees Versteegh [eds] Approaches to Arabic Dialects: a Collection of Articles presented to Manfred Woidich on the Occasion of his Sixti- eth Birthday. Leiden, Boston. Brill, pp. 117–132. ISSN 0081-8461. bibliography bruce ingham xv

2004b ‘Language survival in isolation: the Arabic dialect of Afghanistan’. In: Ignacio Ferrando and Juan Jose Sanchez Sandoval [eds] AIDA 5th Conference Proceedings Cádiz September 2002. Cádiz. Servicio de Publicaciones, Universidad de Cádiz, pp. 21–37. ISBN 84-7786- 777-1. 6 2004c ‘The role of Orientalists in the interpretation of Arabic texts’. In: Sami A. Khasawnih [ed] Conference on Orientalism: Dialogue of Cultures. Amman: University of Jordan, pp. 183–192. 2005a [appeared in 2004] ‘Persian and Turkish Loans in the Arabic Dia- lects of North Eastern Arabia’. In: Éva Ágnes Csató, Bo Isaksson and Carina Jahani [eds] Linguistic Convergence and Areal Diffu- sion: Case Studies from Iranian, Semitic and Turkic. London & New York. RoutledgeCurzon, pp. 173–180. ISBN 0-415-30804-6. 2005b [ed] Review of the Anizah Tribe by Gerald de Gaury, Beirut. Kutub. ISBN 9953-417-97-0. 2006a ‘Language and Identity: the perpetuation of dialects’. In: Dawn Chatty [ed] Nomadic Societies in the Middle East and North Africa: Entering the 21st Century. Leiden, Boston. Brill, pp. 523–538. ISSN 0169-9423, ISBN 90 04 14792 6. 2006b ‘Afghanistan: language situation’. In: Keith Brown [ed] Encyclo- pedia of Language and Linguistics vol 1. Amsterdam. Elsevier, pp. 89–90. ISBN 0-08-044299-4 (set). 2006c ‘Iran: language situation’. In: Keith Brown [ed] Encyclopedia of Language and Linguistics vol 6. Amsterdam. Elsevier, pp. 16–17. ISBN 0-08-044299-4 (set). 2006d ‘Lakota’. In: Keith Brown [ed] Encyclopedia of Language and Linguistics vol 6. Amsterdam. Elsevier, pp. 305–306. ISBN 0-08- 044299-4 (set). 2006e ‘Qatar: language situation’. In: Keith Brown [ed] Encyclopedia of Language and Linguistics vol 10. Amsterdam. Elsevier, p. 298. ISBN 0-08-044299-4 (set). 2006f ‘Saudi Arabia: language situation’. In: Keith Brown [ed] Encyclo- pedia of Language and Linguistics vol 10. Amsterdam. Elsevier, pp. 753–754. ISBN 0-08-044299-4 (set). 2006g ‘Afghanistan Arabic’. In: Kees Versteegh [gen ed] Encyclopedia of Arabic Language and Linguistics vol 1. Leiden. Brill, pp. 28–35. ISBN 90-04-14976-2 (set). xvi bibliography bruce ingham

2006h ‘Khuzestan Arabic’. In: Kees Versteegh [gen ed] Encyclopedia of Arabic Language and Linguistics vol 2. Leiden. Brill, pp. 571–578. ISBN 90-04-14973-2 (set). 2007 ‘The function of the independent personal pronouns in Lakota’. In: Transactions of the Philological Society vol 105 i, pp. 22–41. ISSN 0079 1636. 2008 ‘Najdi Arabic’. In: Kees Versteegh [gen ed] Encyclopedia of Arabic Language and Linguistics vol 3. Leiden. Brill, pp. 326–578. ISBN 978-90-04-14973 1 (set). ISBN 978-90-04-14475-0. 2009a ‘Saudi Arabia’. In: Kees Versteegh [gen ed] Encyclopedia of Ara- bic Language and Linguistics vol 4. Leiden. Brill, pp. 123–130. ISBN 978-90-04-14973-1 (set). ISBN 978-90-04-14476-7. 2009b Five Lakota Oral Discourses Transcribed and Translated: How an American Indian Nation Explains its Philosophy of Life. Lewiston, Queenston, Lampeter. Edwin Mellen Press. ISBN-13: 978-0-7734- 4767-7. 2009c ‘The dialect of the Euphrates Bedouin, a fringe Mesopotamian dialect’. In: Enam Al-Wer and Rudolf de Jong (eds) Arabic Dia- lectology: in Honour of Clive Holes on the Occasion of his Sixtieth Birthday. Leiden. Brill, pp. 99–108. ISBN 978-90-04-172128. 2009d [ed with Badr El-Hage] Journal of Excursion in Syria and Pales- tine 1860 by Joseph Dalton Hooker. Beirut. Kutub. ISBN 978-9953- 554-05-1. 2010 ‘Information structure in the Najdi dialects’. In: Jonathan Owens and Alaa Elgibali [eds] Information Structure in Spoken Arabic. London, New York. Routledge, pp. 75–92. ISBN 10: 0-41577844-1. About bedouin tents and other tents or “tent terminology as an example of semantic shift”

Peter Behnstedt and Manfred Woidich

When we thought over a subject for the Festschrift for our dear friend Bruce Ingham, our first idea was to write something dealing with aspects of one of his favourite fields, namely “Arabic Bedouin Dialects”. One idea was to publish data we had collected more than 30 years ago in the Dakhla Oasis in Egypt in a hamlet named Duhūs inhabited by Rašāyda Bedouin who had made their way from Saudi Arabia across Sudan to Egypt and who at that time still spoke their original dialect perfectly, but this would have been nothing new to Bruce Ingham. Despite that, the ‘Arabellion’ thwarted our plans for renewed research on the spot. So we had to look for something else. Since we have been dealing with lexical questions for quite a while when preparing the “Wortatlas der arabischen Dialekte” (WAD), other subjects in this field came to our minds and seemed quite promising to us at first glance, e.g., a cross dialectal comparison of “camel terminology”, thus making a link to the article “Camel terminology among the Āl Murrah bedouins”, Zeitschrift für Arabische Linguistik 22 (1990), pp. 67–78 penned by our jubilarian. But it seems that the respective classical vocabulary has been maintained rather uniformly through time and space, and more research in this field would not have given too many new insights.1 So we dropped this idea and chose another one: the terms denoting the “bedouin tent”. It both coincides with the interests of the jubilarian, and refers at the same time to a lecture given by him earlier,2 and, in addition, fullfills our announcement given in WAD 2 of a more detailed future discussion of the term giṭūn/gayṭūn. This discussion will be the “pièce de

1 As an example for a term which apparently is known to all bedouin, we may adduce here the baww “stuffed skin of the slaughtered calf given to its mother to smell and sniff at so that she continues to yield milk” KUR, and in the same meaning as far away as in Mauritania cf. AB-2:82, for Egypt see BW-1, for Tunisia see BOR. 2 In fact, we derive the subtitle of our contribution from this lecture “Tent terminology as an example of semantic shift” by Bruce Ingham dealing with the components of the tent. We are grateful to Rudolf de Jong for providing us with a copy of the handout of this lecture. 2 peter behnstedt and manfred woidich résistance” of this contribution and follows as part B of this paper, after part A that contains some general remarks on the terms used for the “tent as a portable home”. Part C deals with terms for some other types of tents, such as ‘wedding tents’, part D gives some additions to the commentary on map 197 “Zelt” in WAD 2, part E, inspired by Bruce’s paper, deals with some semantic developments in this context.3

The Tent as a Portable Home

From a technical and ethnographical point of view the subject has been dealt with exhaustively by Feilberg (FEI) and Rackow (RAC-2), the latter with many illustrations, detailed Arabic terminology and a list of Eastern tent terminology pp. 182–184. Cf. also EI sv. k͟h͟ayma. So what remains are some philological remarks to be made. The MSA equivalent of “tent” is xayma. In CA xayma means “A bayt [here meaning booth, or the like,] . . . of any kind . . . such as is built, or constructed . . . by the Arabs . . . of the branches of trees . . . but others hold that it is [a tent; i.e,] made with pieces of cloth and tent-ropes . . . it is applied by the Arabs only to a construction of four poles roofed over with ṯumām [or panic grass]; and is not of cloths” (LANE). This suggests that, originally, a xayma was rather a booth and not a tent.4 Reflexes of xayma in the sense of “tent made with pieces of cloth” are ubiquitous. Normally they designate all kinds of tents such as “military tents”, “camping tents”, “tents for refugees”, etc. Egyptian Bedouin call their tent beit or beit shaʿr, “never k͟h͟eima which means a canvas tent of Euro- pean pattern” (MUR 80). In the dialect of the Rwala xeyme is “a white tent” (MUS-1:269). However, in the bedouin dialect of Mauritania, the Western Sahara, of Mali, i.e. the Ḥassāniyya dialect, xeyme refers to the traditional bedouin tent made of camel wool or cotton (xaīme CRE 341). TAI-1 s.v. does not give information for the cloth used, but metonymic or meta- phoric uses of xayme like “family”: mən xayme kbīre “de bonne famille, de haut lignage”, xaymət lə-mṛa (litt. ‘la tente de la femme’) “vagina”. In Morocco xēma, xayma is “tente (des bédouins), noire, en tissu épais de

3 For terms one may miss here, we refer to the commentary in WAD 2:59–61. 4 But xayyama “he pitched his tent”. For a discussion of the etymoloy of xayma see LES 269 s.v. xaymat “tent, tabernacle”, also EI 1147. Meanings like “cabin”, “tent”, “enclosure” are quoted there. Cf. also VOL 631 “ursprünglich primitivste Behausung” [originally most primitive housing]. For parallels with ʿarīša see below. about bedouin tents and other tents 3 laine et poil de chèvre, parfois de chameau)” (DEP).5 The bedouin tents visited (P. Behnstedt) in the Duwwār əl-Maʿābda in Northern Morocco near the Algerian border and in other places there were of canvas, and the side walls (rakkīla, pl. rkākīl, in LIST drawing p. 75 nr. 54, names p. 85 s.v. “Seitenband”, ruffa in Rackow’s list p. 182) of plastic strips. In Nigeria “xeema apparently is used as a makeshift shelter, made of rags, usually not very big (p.c. J. Owens). In the dialect of the Northwest-Moroccan Jbala tribes (nowadays villagers or townspeople) a term such as xīmti “my house” still hints at tents formerly used as a dwelling.6 Cf. also for the Ḫlóṭ-Jbala bît “house”, pl. byût ~ xayma, pl. xyå̄m “in Erinnerung an vergangene Nomadenwohnart,” as Rackow puts it (RAC-1:41b). The statement in EI 1146 “Today, among many rural people and even town dwellers, the memory of a former nomadic way of life is preserved by their actually using k͟h͟ayma/k͟h͟ēma to denote a house, and it has totally replaced bayt/bēt” (Ch. Pellat) is certainly exag- gerated and does not apply to countries like Syria, Egypt and other regions where terms for “house” were elicited during field work. *bayt has not been replaced, reflexes of it in the Maghreb usually denote a “room”, and “house” normally is dār, or ḥōš in some areas. As for Algeria the main forms used in older sources are xayma and bēt aš-šaʿar (FEI 23) for the bedouin tent, and a smaller tent of pastoralists is called ʿazaba (FEI 33). This form is related to “ ʿazaba bihā, referring to sheep or goats, “He went to a distance, or far off, with them” (LANE) and Yemeni Arabic ʿazzab “to keep the sheep outside the village for a longer period and live in a hut or tent [herdsman]” ( JG). Cf. as well ʿizbih in the Negev “a temporary camp set up by shepherds or cultivators for the seasons when they move away from the main camp to find better pasture or to cultivate distant plots,” and biyʿazzbuw “[they] go to their ʿizbih” (HEN 257 fn.6); Naǧdi ʿizbih “temporary one night camp” (ING-N 190), Nigeria ezīb “nomadic camp” (OWE-G 192,-5), and the Cyrenaican expression imʿazba said of a herd that does not return to the main tent at night, “i.e., it is accompanied by a herder, a donkey, and possibly a small tent” (BEHN 59).7

5 For the identical Berber tent see LAO 20 ff. He doubts (p. 21) an Arabic origin xīma of Berber axxam, taxxamt. In LAO-C 291a we find axam ‘tente’, and in LAO-H 156, however, axxam is derived from Arabic xayma. More details there. 6 Also in some Berber dialects axxām “tent” > “house” (DES s.v. “tente”), Ghomara axeyyam “the house” (HANN 93), Kabylie, Chenoua, Rif (LAO 21). 7 For further semantic extensions of the root see WAD 1 map 25 “Gastgeber, host”. 4 peter behnstedt and manfred woidich

– As for the traditional bedouin bayt šaʿ(a)r “a tent of goats’ hair” (LANE), “tente arabe en poil de chèvre et laine” Algeria (BEAU); and reflexes of it, see WAD 2. There is no need to further discuss the word. Often only the forms bayt, bēt, bīt without the attribute šaʿr are used, see for instance in the Negev bēt, buyūt “a bedouin tent” (BAI 431), nazzal al-bīt ubanawh “[he] unloaded the tent and they put it up” (HEN 226,- 6), further bīt hal-faṛḥ “wedding tent” (HEN 372,-2), Cyrenaica bait “main tent” (BEHN 60), əl-bēt ʿalé sətta “(c’est) une tente à six poteaux” (NAT 165 proverb 727).8

The Case of qayṭūn

In Chapter VI FEI (132 ff.) deals with “Types de tentes de la culture citadine dans le domaine de la tente noire”, in sub-chapter I with “modern” tents like “pavillion tents” and “ridge tents”, also called “military tents” and in sub-chapter II with “Tentes de foire”.9 Only for Morocco he quotes a designation, namely kaïtûn or gaïtûn “une petite tente où deux ou trois personnes peuvent être étendues et qui est utilisée exclusivement en voyage par les marchands forains, les saltimbanques, etc.”. The Moroccan gēṭōn, gayṭōn, pl. gyāṭən is derived by DEP from Greek κοιτών and explained as “1. tente sommaire, en coton blanc, servant de boutique à certains marchands forains . . . fréquentant les souks ruraux. 2. tente légère des soldats en bivouac, des caravaniers à la halte”. As a denominal derivation DEP mentions gēṭən “installer un campement sommaire pour les labours ou le pâturage; séjourner longtemps à un même campement” (from LOU). Other sources for Morocco give it as “caidal tent”, “state tent” for receptions and the like.10 In north-eastern Morocco gēṭōn, pl. gyāṭən or gyāṭīn may also refer to a ridge tent of pastoralists made of canvas.

8 For tents of the Libyan Awlād ʿAli in Egypt made of sacking both xeyše and beyt are used. Cf. BW-2:258–260. 9 The adjective “modern” is somewhat misleading since it suggests that he deals with tents introduced by Europeans. Cf. also other sources infra. In his resumé p. 135, however, he hints at Persian miniatures of pavilion tents and the fact that the construction of the black tent had undergone influences from “urban” tents. Cf. also RAC-2:181 who states that the Arabs during the conquest of Africa first used their traditional black tents but then took over Byzantine and Persian tents as military and state tents. 10 Thus J. Aguadé (p.c.) gīṭūn or xayma. A picture of a “caidal tent”: “tente de réception du caïd Si Salah Aouragh” see in LAO following p. 22, above a traditional Berber tent, also in RAC-1 “Tafeln” (not numerated). A historical picture of market tents in the Jbala area (Souq el-Jomoʿa in the Jebel Sidi Masʿoud, LEV next to p. 6) show quite elaborated decorated tents like the caidal tent and not simple awnings like in other rural markets. about bedouin tents and other tents 5

DEP does not furnish the Greek meaning of κοιτών, nor does LOU 534 for the Zaër: gayṭūn, gyāṭn “petite tente en coton blanc des marchands ambulants pour les souqs (grec κοιτών)”. It is to be found in DO II 440 as qayṭana “formé de qayṭūn” with reference to qṭn and Pedro de Alcalá “tab- ernaculum”, p. 386 qayṭūn “petite chambre dans le dialecte de l’Egypte, est κοιτών ‘chambre à coucher’”, with reference to H. Fleischer and “Au Maghrib, tente”, again with reference to Pedro de Alcalá, and mention- ing an Egyptian bāb al-qayṭūn as “porte qui s’ouvre sur la mer, ou une rivière, comme les portes qui ouvrent sur le canal au Caire, 1001 N.” Also a wrong translation of Berber El-Kîtoun “tente” instead of “le camp” is mentioned. For Andalusian Arabic qayṭūn COR-1 gives “tent, pavilion or room annexed to a building” and derives it from κοιτών via Syriac qayṭūnā, in COS “bedroom”.11 As for Egyptian Arabic VOL 303 quotes the same Greek etymology and the meanings of unvocalised qyṭwn “Zimmer, Zelt, Cisterne (altes Alexan- drien), Kloake (Kairo)”. SPI qaṭūn “private quay or verandah on a canal”, similarly TAY-1:143 f. In LANE 2991a Suppl. “A closet; syn. muxdaʿun, i.e. a [small] chamber within a [large] chamber”, and in the LI al-qayṭūnu: al-muxdaʿu, aʿǧamīyun wa-qīla: bi-luġati miṣra wa barbara . . . baytun fī baytin . . . and the verse qubbatun min marāǧilin ḍarabathā ʿinda bardi š-šitāʾi fī qayṭūni. Further evidence in TAY-2:297 f. s.v. ṣīwān and ZA 279. KAZ has “cellier, garde-manger”, COR-2 quotes it as “cámara” and “tienda de campaña”, WA as “Schlafkammer (κοιτών), Speisekammer, Gewölbe, Keller”. The last two “vault”, “cellar” may have led to “cistern” in Alexan- dria and the meaning “vault” possibly is due to a contamination with the Arabic √qṭn as in al-qaṭanu . . . mā bayna l-warikayni ʾilā ʿaǧbi ḏ-ḏanabi = “the croup (of a horse)”, in KAZ ʾaqṭanu “courbé, voûté”. Reflexes of the Greek κοιτών “bedroom” are, indeed, restricted to Northern Africa; west of Egypt it occurs in the sense of “tent”, but rarely referring to the traditional bedouin tent, the bayt aš-šaʿr.12 It has been adapted to Berber/Kabylic as aqiḍun “tente de soldat, de forain” (DALL), aqeydun Morocco/Rif Berber (TIL 89) “tenda”, Tamazight aqīdūn ~ agīṭūn

11 Mentioned in FRAE on p. 20 only as a separate part of the house without further explanation. Since al-Ğawharī ascribes it to the Egyptians “al-muxdaʿ bi-luġat ʾahl Miṣr” (Siḥāḥ Vol. VI p. 2183b), Fraenkel does not exclude a direct loan from Greek κοιτών. muxdaʿ is “A closet, or small chamber, in which a thing is kept, or preserved; i.q. xizāna [. . .] by which is meant a small chamber within a large chamber” (LANE). 12 Map 197 in WAD 2 does not contain this term for the Ḥassāniyya dialect, but only xayma. agayṭūn was not furnished in the questionnaires, nor is to be found in TAI-2 and in TAI-1 s.v. qṭn. HEA does not mention it for Mali Ḥassāniyya. 6 peter behnstedt and manfred woidich

= al-xibāʾu ṣ-ṣaġīru min qumāš (SHAF 151), agīṯūn,̣ aqīḍūn, aqīḏūn (DES), agiṭun “tente de marchand”, taxyämt “tente de nomade”, axxam “tente” (LAO 3). Vycichl, in his chapter “Lateinische und griechische Lehnwörter”, cites agiṭun “Zelt” (von Soldaten, Marktleuten), pl. igwitan (Shilḥa); aqiḏ̣un “Zelt” (von Soldaten, Marktleuten), pl. iqiḏ̣unen (VYC 24) and considers it a loan from Arabic. An internet Berber source from Zouara/Libya offers aqīdūn. aqiḍun in Berber (Morocco) is also defined as a smaller tent of nomadic pastoralists” (LAO-H 154).13 It has been borrowed from Maghrebi Arabic to French as gitoune “tente de toile (de coton)”.14 In Mauritania berberized ägäyṭūn refers to a small temporary tent in the oases for date harvesters or vacationers, and on the coast for seasonal workers helping in fishery. This seasonal work is called gēṭna (p.c. Ahmad-Salem Ould Mohamed Baba, in his lecture in AIDA Pescara “une tente légère où habitent les gens qui viennent à la gēṭna”). In an internet source for the Western Sahara Ḥassāniyya dialect, however, aqyṭwn is defined as “a bedouin tent not made of woven camels’ hair” and it is stated that the xayma is being replaced by the aqīṭūn, be it for its weight or the fact that it has become nearly impossible to weave it”. It is also defined as “the womens’ room of the tent” or “the sleeping place in the tent separated by curtains from the other parts of it; “a small tent (bnyh)15 within a house in the reception room for better air condition and as a protection against mosquitoes”.16 Another Western-Sahara website explains that the xayma is being abandoned because of its weight and replaced by a qayṭūn, nevertheless its interior looks like that of the traditional xayma: naẓaran li ṯuql wazn al-xayma ʾaṣbaḥa baʿḍ an-nās yaštarūna al-xiyām al-maṣnūʿa min al-qumāš wa tusammā qayṭūn ʾilla ʾannahu tuǧahhaz min ad-dāxil bi- nafs ṭarīqat al-xayma at-taqlīdīya.17 It stands to reason that the white tents mentioned in PUI 152, CRE 342 and CRE-MT 82 belong to this aqīṭūn-

13 “Le transhumant, en effet, possède une ou plusieurs autres tentes de dimensions plus réduites, et plus portatives encore. Elles servent dʾabri aux bergers, ou aux gens, iʿazzaben, attachés à la garde des troupeaux parqués à lʿazib, ou à la surveillance des cultures. On les nomme aqiḍun (A. -Ndhir) ou ṯaʿešuṯ . . . (Izayan), forme berbérisée de l’arabe ʿušša. Cf. infra ʿišša and ʿazaba. 14 See the French Wikipedia s.v. guitoune: “En argot militaire, une guitoune (Maghr.: gayton, arabe: qayṭūn “tente” ou bien aussi xaima = grand velum plein de mâts et de toile) désigne une tente ou un abri de fortune. Le terme “gayton” est utilisé au Maroc pour désigner une sorte de tissu ou de toile; abri de tranchée (1914) synonyme de cagna.” 15 See benye/bennīe below. 16 http://www.msahrawi.org/index. 17 http://www.sahara-culture.com. about bedouin tents and other tents 7 type, for which no particular term is given in these sources. According to Puigaudeau, these “tentes de coton blanc” were in 1960 as numerous in Tagānt as the brown ones, and showed the same dimensions and same interior as those (PUI 152, CRE-MT 83 with photo). The cotton cloth, žīf, is produced by “tisserands soudanais” and brought to the market in Tagānt by caravans (PUI 153).

In Algeria gyṭwn (not vocalised, but with /g/) is “tente, surtout en toile” (BEAU), gīṭūn “tente de campagne, en toile” (BELK), gīṭōn “tente en toile, faite et conçue par les Européens” (MAL), Dellys gīṭūn “used for leisure camping, post-earthquake accomodation”, in Bou Saada for “small tents” giwatīn (MAR-1:48). In internet sources the pavilions of the Algiers book fair of 2011 are called qayṭūn. In Tunisia gīṭūn “Zelt aus Zeltleinwand” (SIN 534), gitūn in TAL 24 only “tent”, Marāzīg gāṭūn “tente européenne” (BOR), Takroûna (MAR-2:3247) giṭūn “tente en toile blanche (tente ronde des soldats, des agents, et ouvriers des travaux publics; tente échoppe des marchands forains)”. For the Jews of Tripoli qiṭun, qwaṭən “tent” is attested (YODA 228, 336) without further explanations. In Libya/Fezzan giṭūn “tente, bâche” (LEQ). In an internet source for the Jabal Nafousa/ Libya berberized agīṭūn or agīdūn is mentioned with pictures showing a traditional bedouin tent made of animals’ hair; another Libyan internet source equates qayṭūn with xayma and qayṭūn faraḥ with xaymat ʿurs. So far, everything seems to be clear. A possible semantic filiation from “bedroom” à “sleeping compartment of the tent” à “tent” is tempting, but the ʾisnād is ḍaʿīf. aqyṭwn “sleeping compartment of the tent” is only attested in an internet source for the Ḥassāniyya dialect of the Western Sahara and is not confirmed for the Ḥassāniyya of Mauritania (agayṭūn) by Ahmad-Salem Ould Mohamed Baba (p.c.). The translation of baytun fī baytin (LI 3684-r) as “room in a bayt ” in EI 1149 (Ch. Pellat) is ambigu- ous. Does it mean “room in a house”, “room in a tent” or “tent in a tent”? LANE 2991a Suppl. “A closet; syn. muxdaʿun, i.e. a [small] chamber within a [large] chamber” is a quotation of the LI al-muxdaʿu and baytun fī baytin. baytun fī baytin could also be translated by “tent in a tent” and this would match with “sleeping compartment in a tent”. If it is “tent in a tent” or “room in a tent,” then the further semantic evolution to “small tent, etc.” is corroborated by the benye of the Ḥassāniyya dialect, which is an “inner tent (in the xayma)”, “small tent for travelling”. Cf. infra chapter D sub benye. As for “verandah” (thus in Egyptian Arabic) it is defined in dictionaries as a “porch”, or “portico”, “sometimes partly enclosed, extending along the 8 peter behnstedt and manfred woidich outside of a building”. This matches with the definition in COR-1 “room annexed to a building”. A portico normally is supported by columns or pil- lars (as is a tent by poles) and a porch might be defined, too, as a “canopy sheltering”, “a protective rooflike covering, often of canvas, mounted on a frame over a walkway or a door”. In Eastern Syria in summer people sleep outside the house on mattresses on a kind of verandah, a wooden framework with four poles being covered by a mosquito net. Since the Egyptian qayṭūn is “a verandah on a canal”, this might be used as a “drain” (“Kloake” above), too.

Translations of gēṭōn (gīṭūn, etc.) like “European style tent” suggest that tents of canvas or cotton were introduced by the French during their occupation of the Maghreb. This may be true for a certain type of military tent, but tents of cotton existed before. Traditional Mauritanian tents normally consist of camel wool or of several layers of cotton cloth,18 and the xeyše of the Libyan Awlād ʿAli in Western Egypt of canvas is a traditional bedouin tent certainly not brought to them by the French. There existed several types of tents: the bayt aš-šaʿr or the xayma, the gēṭōn, the ʿazaba, the ʿišša19 and due to identical cloth gēṭōn was simply applied to a newly introduced French tent. Verbal and other forms are derived from gēṭōn such as the above mentioned gēṭən in Moroccan, niqayṭan “we pitch a tent” in Andalusian Ara- bic, in Algeria gēṭən “planter sa tente chez, camper” (BEAU), Saïda geiṭan “séjourner, établir sa tente” (geṭôn) in MAR-1:107; gayṭna “campement de longue durée pendant les labours” (LOU).

This explanation seems quite stringent and the only possible one, were there not an Arabic root qṭn: qaṭana bi l-makāni: ʾaqāma bihi wa-tawaṭṭana (LI), qṭən Morocco “y habiter, se fixer (pour assez longtemps, dans un pays qui n’est pa le sien, au cours d’un voyage)”, qāṭən “sédentaire” (DEP), unvocalised qṭn “se domicilier, habiter en un lieu, y demeurer, y être établi”

18 See text in AB-1:185–187 “jaimas de tela o de lana”. 19 Designating in Tunisia and Algeria “a poor bedouin tent”, see WAD 2:60. In Fez- zan ʿošša is “un abri de sacs grossiers et d’étoffe qu’on coud ensemble” and is used as a dwelling during the hot period (MARP-2:20/21).—A bedouin necessarily must not live in a bayt šaʿr. Cf. DOS 45–47, 139–140 for southern bedouins who may live in caverns, under a rocky cliff, a sun shelter, just rugs thrown over a tree, see the dayma in WAD 2:60. See also WEB 478 “In the absence of tents, the Āl Wahība make use of a variety of natural and man-made forms of shelter. . . . Any such shade giving structure is termed xēma, usually glossed as ‘tent’ ”. about bedouin tents and other tents 9

Algeria (BEAU), qâṭon “résident, domicilié” Takroûna/Tunisia (MAR-2),20 with similar meaning as in Moroccan in Saudi Arabia/Dōsiri giṭan, yigṭin: al-ʿarab gṭanaw “the Bedouins camp for a longer period at the well (generally in summer)”, giṭīn “the camp” (KUR); yagiṭnūnuh Šammar “Šammar were camped there” (SOW 176/177 verse 569, not in the glossary). Cf. also in DOU II:119 “most of the geyatîn (sing. gatûny, indigent Beduin squat- ters at Kheybar): they made themselves booths of their palm matting”; in the glossary in unvocalised Arabic qyāṭīn. Cf. above the plurals gyāṭīn ~ gyāṭən. It is quite possible to derive *gayṭan (> gēṭən) from giṭan21 or giṭīn, cf. Syrian Arabic ṭaylaʿ “to take, get out”, Yemeni Arabic ṣayġar “to make small”, ṭayfar “to spoil”, tfayqah “to pretend to be a faqīh”, tgaybal “to pretend to be a gabīlī ”, tkaysal “to be lazy”, timayzaǧ “to be mixed” and others (JG), formed either from triliteral verbs or from a nominal structure of the type CaCīC(a). Such derivations are particularly frequent in Maghrebi Arabic (many details for Saïda in MAR-1 loc. cit., Djidjelli MARP-1:205, COH 144). The unvocalised gyṭāna “Arabes de la tente, nomades” in Alge- rian Arabic (BEAU) may be derived either from gēṭən “planter sa tente chez, camper” or from the gēṭōn-tent of the pastoralists. One has to suppose that the Greek κοιτών “bedroom” originally was adopted in an urban environment, with a shift then to “small room, annexed room, pantry, cellar, vault, cistern, verandah, porch, pavilion, tent”, then adopted by bedouins and rural people and associated with the Arabic root qṭn “to dwell, camp”22 as a product of folk etymology and exclusively used for a “tent” different from the traditional bayt aš-šaʿr. The fact that in the Maghreb it is actually used with /g/23 in urban dialects leads to the conclusion that gīṭūn ~ gēṭōn is a “Rückwanderer” there.

A check in the dialect dictionaries and glossaries of Egyptian, Levan- tine, Anatolian, Iraqi, Yemeni, Gulf, Omani Arabic which were at our disposal has shown that the root qṭn in the meaning “to dwell, camp” is not attested there. It seems that it is only used (attested) in Saudi

20 A verbal form not being used anymore. Cf. KUR 270 gāṭin “one who camps near the well for a considerable time” (with reference to Musil). 21 The translations of gēṭən “séjourner longtemps à un même campement” (LOU 534) and giṭan “camp for a longer period” are in substance identical. 22 Possibly also with quṭn “cotton”. See above also √qṭn as in aqṭanu “vaulted” which might have led to the meaning “vault, cellar” in Eastern sources. 23 Tangiers, however, qayṭūn, also in Jbala dialects qāyṭūn “tienda pequeña para acam- par” (VIC 246), as well as gayṭūn “jaima” in Chaouen (MOS 45). 10 peter behnstedt and manfred woidich

Arabia and the Maghreb in this sense. This means that a prerequisite for a fusion of the two etyma in the Maghreb is given. On the other hand, in a non-bedouin environment, namely in Egypt, the semantic evolution has taken another direction.

Tents for Special Occasions

Beside the tent that serves as a home to live in, there are tents or tent- like constructions erected for special occasions, such as weddings. The bridal tent, for instance, serves as a first stay for the newly married couple. Such a tent is called burza ~ birza in Syria24 for details see WAD 2:60c; berza (WETZ 108 fn.44).25 In the Negev it may simply be referred to by bīt hal-faṛḥ “wedding tent” (HEN 372,-2). Iraqi ḥōfa ~ ḥôwfa is according to LAN-D 519 the same as the Syrian burza: wi nṣubaw lḥôwfa “[sie] schlugen das Hochzeitsgemach auf” (WEI 5,6), Širqāṭ: gabəl ʿiddna el-ḥōfe, ġurfat al-ʿäres, nsämmīha l-ḥōfe, yudxul er-ʿarīs (sic!) we-l-ʿarūs bi-l-ḥōfe. (33) mū ġurfa, ḥaṣīr, dāxil xēma, xāriǧ el-byēt “formerly we had the ḥōfe, a wedding room, we call it ḥōfe. (33) It is not a room, (it) is a mat, inside a tent, outside the house” (SAL 25,9–12). The habit of preparing a tent for a newly married couple is also common with the Rwala; it is called ḥeǧra “a small round tent . . . pitched by the women near by” (MUS-1:228), see ḥaǧīra below. In the Daṯīna “hutte ou tente qu’on fait pour le mariage = Béd. Nord burza vhv. Stace sub booth et wedding booth” (LAN-D 567); maxdara belongs to xidr mentioned below. In Palestine ʿarīše “tente de mariage” (DAL VI:26,17); it is described as a “kleines Zelt” in the courtyard of a farmer’s house (MUS-2:134). For Mādabā/ Jordan Jaussen describes the ʿarīše as following: “Durant les chaleurs, il n’est guère possible de dormir dans la maison; on construit alors une hutte ou petite tente, sur la terrasse: quelques piquets de bois, fortement attachés ensemble par des cordes, et recouverts d’étoffe. C’est la ʿarīšeh, assez large pour abriter deux personnes” (JAU 74). The photo fig. 4 in the appendix shows indeed something like the structure of a simple tent

24 Perhaps by metathesis from zirb “reed mat” used to build the wedding hut (WETZ 153). The same tent is called xarbūš by the Arabs of the Trachonitis and Balqāʾ, which means any miserable tent in the dialect of the ʿAneza (WETZ 108 fn. 44). 25 Further literature in DJ 162 fn.265 and 479 fn.53; a detailed decription can be found in MUR 181–182. about bedouin tents and other tents 11 with a tip and with cloth on it. It is widely attested in the sense of “palm-branch hut” or (Bahrain) ʿarīš HOL-1:345b, Abu Ḏ̣ abi ʿirīš “Strohhütte” RAW 246b, Ḏ̣ ufār ʿarīš “Rohrhütte” RHO 39b, ABU 360b explains ʿarīše as xayma (sic!) min xašab tuttaxaḏu li d-dawālī, i.e. the common trellis (for grapevines) (WEHR); the Sāhel-Bedouin in Oman call their stone huts ʿaršah (JANZ 92).

For a “temporary pavilion of appliquéed or patterned cloth set up for funeral receptions and other large gatherings” (HB) or simply “large tent” (SPI-2) the term ṣiwān is used in Egypt, ṣīwān in Syria “very large tent” (STO), in Palestine ṣīwān “großes vierseitiges Zelt” (BAU), in Lebanon ṣaywān “tente” (CSM), in Sudan ṣīwān “large tent erected at feasts” (HIL-1), in Morocco ṣēwān ~ sīwān “grande tente d’apparat du sultan, avec velum devant la porte, qui était la salle de réception quand il était en expedition . . . ou en voyage”, ext. “toute tente somptueuse”, “petite tente, pavillon (du Sultan) pour recevoir”, “tout abri contre le soleil” (DEP). It harks back to Ottoman-Turkish/Persian sāybān “Zelt, Sonnendach” (JUA), presumably from its vulgar Ottoman form saywān “Schattendach, Sonnenschirm, offenes Zelt” as noted in ZEN, a compound noun from sāye “shadow” and wān ~ bān “guardian”.26 Upper Egyptian wuṭāg, -āt “Zelt” (BW-1) harks back to Ottoman-Turkish otak ~ otaǧ “großes Zelt, Zelt des Fürsten” (ZEN), and Pers. otāgh, otāq “a large tent, pavillion” (STG).

In Morocco there is a type of “military tent” called xzä̅na, described in DEP s.v. xzn as “grande tente d’apparat pour un dignitaire en déplacement (dite tente caïdale) . . . le velum est de forte toile blanche”. Feilberg gives ‘chosâna’ and writes: “. . . est utilisé uniquement par les soldats. Conique ou cylindro-conique. Elle est supporté par un seul poteau au milieu, qui porte sur son extrémité supérieure une plaque de bois circulaire.” (FEI 133). A simpler construction used on the ground seems to be the ẓalla or ẓulla listed for the Indian ocean in Grosset-Grange under the entry “tente” with reference to the glossary of Kuwaiti nautical terms by Johnstone and Muir. These give “awning” as an English equivalent (JOH-MU 315). It is clearly derived from the root ẓll meaning “shadow”.

26 Cf. sāyeh bān “(den Schatten behütend) Sonnenschirm” SAL-SH 92. 12 peter behnstedt and manfred woidich

Additions and Terms not Mentioned in the Commentary in WAD 59–61

– šrāʿ “tent” is mentioned for Saudi Arabia/Ḥiǧāz/Ḥarb (MOZ 76), Dawāsir idem “sail; tent” (KUR). To be added: “In Najd, xēma means only a canvas tent, but the more usual term for this, in Najd and in Oman, is šrāʿ ” (WEB 478 fn. 6); cf. also JOH 254 śéraʿ “to make a tent, sail”. Also used in Persian (STG, JUA). In CA only the meaning “sail” and others, but not “tent” are attested. The technical term for the roof-cloth of the tent is Latin “velum” = “sail”. The poles with a fork (“Gabelstangen”) of the entrance curtain of the Algerian tent are called šrāʿ wusṭāni, šrāʿ ṭarfāni (RAC-2:161).27 A link between the roots šrʿ and ʿrš by metathesis could be considered. – dār quoted in WAD 2 Negev for “tent; household” in a poetical context (BAI 437), seems to be used in this sense outside this context as well, cf. wanbasáṭow fī dāṛhum “And they were happy in their tent” HEN 226,4. – A smaller tent, used as a travelling tent, as an inner tent for the xēma, or as a separately erected tent for women, is called benye in the Ḥassāniyya dialect, see (TAI-1) “tente de forme carrée en tissu, tente en bandes de coton (blanche)” and bennīe/bennia “Innenzelt aus weißem Baumwoll- stoff, auch als leichtes Reisezelt oder als Zweitzelt bzw. als separat auf- gebautes Frauenzelt” (CRE 342, CRE-MT 82 with photo). The term benye itself seems to be limited to this inner tent in a xayma. As to etymology, it could be related to the binyah “dividing curtain” mentioned by B. Ing- ham. – For the ʿazaba in Algerian Arabic and elsewhere see above. – ḥaǧīra “small, lightweight tent used during the rainy season when tents must be moved often” Sudan/Rašāyda (YOU 142). Cf. héjra “a small summer or ‘flitting tent’” in DOU I:257 (in the glossary in Arabic ḥuǧra). In Tunisia ḥažīr refers to the fire place in front of the womens’ compartment of the tent surrounded by brushwood (RAC-2:165). Cf. LANE ḥaǧǧara “He made a bound, or enclosure around his land” and ḥeǧra “wedding tent” above. – xidr “Zelt, Zelt aus Häuten” Yemen ( JG) is mentioned in RAC-2:178 according to Hess as a tent with six poles, synonym fāze. In LANE xidr “A curtain . . . that is extended for a girl in a part of a house, or chamber, or

27 The poles of the gēṭōn in North-eastern Morocco have a fork for the ridgepole called tfōṛka < Berber < Romance forca “fork”. Another romance loan is tînda “Zeltplane” SIN 521. about bedouin tents and other tents 13 tent . . . any chamber, or house, or tent, or the like, that conceals a person”. Still used as xidra, xudra in the sense of “dividing curtain of the tent” by semi-nomads of upper Mesopotamia, Kurds and arabicised Turkomans of the Biqāʿ (RAC-2:184 fn. 3), loc. cit. also xadr as “women’s compartment of the tent” in Palestine, xidr “shelter, women’s quarters of a tent, small tent for a woman” (KUR) in Wādī d-Dawāsir/Saudi Arabia. For its semantic relation with xadr, xudr “trou, maisonnette en briques cuites au soleil” see LAN-Ḥ 265f and below chapter E. – Reflexes of CA xibāʾ “one of the buyūt [or kinds of tents] of the Arabs . . . peculiarly of wool . . . or of camels’ fur, or of wool . . . or of [goats’] hair . . . smaller than the miḏ̣alla . . . upon two poles, or three; what is above this kind being termed baytun” (LANE)28 are to be found in Mau- ritania xbe, pl. xbāyāt “petite tente en mauvais état” (TAI-1, III:512), there also according to another source for Timbouctou as “tente blanche faite d’étroites bandes de coton cousues ensemble”, in Algerian Arabic xbāʾ “tente en toile” (BEAU, unvocalised), Tunisian Arabic/Marāzīg exbé, pl. xbāwāt “ ‘tente en grosse toile importée’ (jamais en šaʿár)” (BOR). – dila “leather tent of ox skins sewn together” in Chad, the same with sheep skins is nato (LET 455); both words are according to LET of unknown origin. But since dila originally is “skin” in Nigerian Arabic (p.c. J. Owens), an Arabic origin for the latter seems possible, see POM “peau tannée, cuir, assemblage de peaux, couverture en peaux, cuir de vache ou de mouton” with reference to √dlw.29 – diglaaba or iliyye. As to Nigerian Arabic, J. Owens informs us that there a modern tent, like a military tent, would be diglaaba or iliyye. These two terms designate any structure built to shade one from the sun. Most villages and many houses have a permanent diglaaba where people gather to escape the afternoon sun. Diglaaba is also used in the sense of ‘polling booth’, and probably has other analogous uses. This resembles more a kind of awning or hut and, indeed, KAY gives diglāba, pl. dagālīb “marked place hut (occasionally lived in)”, digilāba, pl. dagālīb “porch”, and ilīye, pl. alāli “small grass hut, stall, small shop”. diglāba shows up in Chad and Sudan with metathesis lugdābe ~ ligdābe “petit hangar, abri, auvent, appentis, abris contre le soleil” (POM), digilāba, ligdāba (LET s.v. ‘porch’), and for the Rubaṭāb in Sudan lugdāba = rākūba wa qad tustaʿmal ka-maṭbax,

28 Cf. EI 1147a with a discussion of the relation of bayt vs. xibāʾ. 29 Probably because a dalw is made of leather. A photo of a Twareg leather tent (ehen) can be seen in CRE-MT 89. 14 peter behnstedt and manfred woidich nowadays more like a veranda or ṣāla (QAS), further illiye, pl. alāli “abri, auvent, appentis, hangar” (POM), ʾilliye, pl. ʾelāli “mirador; véranda, abri” (ZT 129) in Chad (Ulâd Eli). – mygra, pl. medzä̅rī Saudi Arabia (Šammar, ʿUtaybah, Gḥatān) for a tent with two rows of poles (RAC-2:178) belongs to dzä̅ri elbēt “Erhöhung des Zeltdaches über der Mittelstange des mešʿūb-Zeltes und des Großnoma- denzeltes”, i.e., furnished with “an elevation of the roof above the medial pole of the tent” (RAC-2:183 fn. 3). As Rackow, loc. cit. suggests, qä̅ri corresponds to class. qarīya “bâton; poutre dans laquelle on emboîte les piliers qui supporte la maison; vergue” (KAZ, LI), xašabāt fīhā furaḍun yuǧʿalu fīhā ra⁠ʾs ʿamūd al-bayt (ĞAW VI:2491), which in its turn is to be derived from class. qarā “back, strong back” (LI), Rwala gara “back” (MUS-1:273), “ridge of a hill” (MUS-1:680). – mašʿūb refers to a tent with three rows of poles but lacking the middle pole of the last row (RAC-2:178). – magrūn in Saudi Arabia according to an internet source refers to a small tent of goats’ hair for sheep and goats as a shelter from the sun. Cf. RAC- 2:177 bēt garnēn with two middle poles or mgawran. This form (mgauran) also in Ingham for a “two-poled tent”, whereas MUS-1:72 gives bejt qarnēn or midawbal for the Rwala; DAL VI:13 as Rackow.30 – RAC-2:180 (according to MUS-1:72) mentions an improvised small tent with one or two poles for short stops during long time migrations named ṭuzz. – The latter calls to mind the ‘tousluc’ mentioned in FEI 133: “Tamisier (1840; I p. 166.) décrit des tentes avec lesquelles il voyagea en Arabie. Elles sont de toile de coton et se composent d’un cylindre, que les Arabes appellent ‘tousluc’ (Tamisier), surmonté d’un cône ou ‘koubbé’ (Tamisier), qui est supporté au milieu par une colonne de bois de 12 pieds de hauteur, assemblée de deux pièces. Tamisier voyageait avec l’armée de Moham- med Ali.” Turkish tuzluk is defined in TAY-1:314/5 as māniʿu t-turāb, as “gaiter” and a kind of protection wall around the tent ( yuṭlaq . . . ʿalā sātir min al-xayma yūḍaʿ ka-s-sūr walā yuġaṭṭā; mā yudār ḥawla l-xayma min šuqaq bilā saqf ). – marbūʿ Saudi Arabia (Internet) is a tent with four poles, bigger than the bayt aš-šaʿar. There are other terms with regard to the number of poles such as maṯlūṯ, maxmūs, masdūs, etc., or meṯawleṯ, mrawbaʿ, mxawmas accordingly for the Rwala (MUS-1:72); mṯanleṯ (sic!), mrawbaʿ, mxawmas,

30 Cf. EI 1148 “called fāza by the Tiyāha, and mgauren by the Sbāʿ ”. about bedouin tents and other tents 15 msawtet, msawbaʿ, mṯawmen, mtawsaʿ in DAL VI:13. ʿišrīni in Fezzan, however, refers to the length of the big tent, i.e. 20 yards/ells (“coudées”, MARP-2:27). – magʿad Negev “the guest section of a tent,” and by extension “the guest- tent of an encampment” (BAI 450).

Some General Observations on Tent Terminology

B. Ingham in his lecture distinguishes between the following “general observations” as for tent terminology: a) anthropomorphic usages, b) certain terms used generally and of special use within the tent context, c) house vocabulary used within the tent context.

Ad a) B. Ingham mentions amongst others riǧl “leg” for a “back corner pole”. This is documented, too, for the tent of the Libyan Awlād ʿAli in Egypt as réžel in RAC-2:169, another meaning of riǧl is “guy-rope of the front part” (RAC-2:183) for North Arabian bedouins and Arabia Petraea. The anthropomorphic view may vary from tribe to tribe, the Maʿāza in Egypt, for instance, use rigl “foot” for both front and back poles, whereas in Sinai yad “hand” is the term for the front poles, rigl for the back poles (MUR 81). Other anthropomorphic uses are ẓahar el bêt “back of the tent” for the velum (RAC-2:184), šārib, pl. šwārib “lip” for the front and back strips (“Vordergurt”, “Hintergurt”, RAC-2:165, 167), gfa “back of the head” for the back curtain (loc.cit.); ʿamūd yad al-bayt for the “front pole” (EI 1148). One could add here zoomorphic usages like ḥomāṛ “donkey” for the “ridge shoe” in Oran (RAC-2:163, “Firstholz”), idem Mauritania (RAC- 2:165), ḥummāṛ in North-eastern Morocco,31 or ʿaṣfūrak for a wooden hook for fixing the guy-ropes (“Saumhölzchen [an Gurten und Laschen]”), for which RAC-2:184 fn. 1 supposes ʿaṣfūr + Iranian (Kurdish?) diminutive ending -ak. ʿaṣfūr “small bird, sparrow” is used for all kinds of pegs in many Arabic dialects, see, e.g., BW-1 s.v. A more common form for this hook is

31 In Duwwār əl-Maʿābda. FEI 159 quotes a Berber form aḥammar (according to Laoust). TAI-1 464 ḥəmmāṛ “pièce de bois qui sert à fixer les montants d’une tente . . .”. Forms with /m/ and /mm/ (ḥmāṛ, ḥammāṛ) for all kinds of props, pegs are also used in Egyptian Ara- bic. For the “ridge shoe”, B. Ingham mentions gunṭās from Greek κοντός, idem RAC-2:157, more examples in EI 1149 (ḳerṭās, gorṭās, genṭās). 16 peter behnstedt and manfred woidich

ǧāzil (Arabia, Iraq, Awlād ʿAli = ziəzil in BW). Egyptian Bedouin say deil el-beit “the tent’s tail” for the back-wall of the tent MUR 80. Ad c) sāḥah “part of the house in which there is no roof” is quoted as “(dividing) wall curtain”. Idem in RAC-2:184. In central Algeria sāḥa refers to the outer district of the bedouin camp, accordingly the back part of the tent is called stä̅r es-sāḥa (RAC-2:161).32 See as well for Syrian bedouin sāḥa “Scheidewand [partition]” between muḥarram and magʿad (WETZ 100 fn.31). Conversely, tent terminology may be transferred to the brickhouse, as already stated above with xayma in chapter A. As cases in point Rackow adduces for Northwest-Morocco (Ḫlóṭ) among others mrāḥ “courtyard”, rkīza, pl. rkāiz (sic!) “wooden posts of the projecting roof of the house” (RAC-1:41b).

As for the geographical dispersion and change of tent terminology, B. Ingham states that there is a high degree of uniformity but that in “certain outlying areas particular local usages have grown up presumably as a result of isolation”. As an example he quotes rakīza “pole” or “prop” in Western Morocco instead of the more common ʿamūd. rkīza, pl. rkāyəz in Oran (RAC-2:162) and Duwwār əl-Maʿābda (near the Algerian border) refer(s) only to the central pole(s),33 ʿ(a)mūd to the outer poles of the front and back part of the tents. Also in Mauritania rkāyəz for the two main poles, ʿmūd, pl. ʿməd for the lateral ones (TAI-1:464, 1494), rekīztēn for the two main poles in Fezzan/Libya (MARP-2:20). As for the tent of the Libyan Awlād ʿAli in Egypt RAC-2:169 states that the terminology is quite divergent from the rest of the Maghreb. The forms for poles are žāber, pl. žóbber (žibbir in BW) for the main pole, xommāsa for the front corner pole,34 režel for the back corner pole (RAC-2:169). The semantic link of žāber to √ǧbr is that of “straightening” (originally a broken bone) to “erect the tent”. Finally B. Ingham discusses mechanisms of semantic change like metaphor, metonomy (extension, contiguity, generalisation, particularisation, ellipsis) and popular etymology. A case in point is the above mentioned xidr “curtain that is extended for a girl in a part of the tent” for which an extension to “women’s compartment of the tent” by metonymy seems

32 stār ət-tāli in Duwwār əl-Maʿābda, stār l-uwwəl for the front part. 33 “A single vertical pole” supporting the ridge-pole in EI 1149. 34 xamāmīs in BW 1, however, “seitliche Spannschnüre beim Zelt” = lateral guy-ropes. about bedouin tents and other tents 17

חֶ דֶ ר quite reasonable, were it not that its cognate in Biblical Hebrew already means “room, chamber, usually private, as bedroom” (BDB). Simi- lar meanings of this root in other Semitic languages, cf. South Arabian xdr “chamber”, m-xdr “residence”, Phoenecian ḥdr “(burial) chamber”, Ugaritic ḥdr “room” (LES 258), suggest that this is the older meaning. So the converse, i.e., particularisation “apartment” to “curtain (to make an apartment)” would be possible, if not more probable. Moreover, this could more easily explain the fact that in Yemen xidr shows up as “tent with six poles”, “tent, tent made of animals’ skin”, “Haus” ( JG). For a detailed discussion see LAN-Ḥ 265. The meaning “tent” of bēt and bēt šaʿar, i.e. the whole construction including stakes, pegs, ropes, and other appertaining paraphernalia, harks back to a semantic extension of the original meaning “tent cloth”. For Arabia Petraea, MUS-2:126 points out that “die Zeltdecke heißt κατ᾽ ἐξοχὴν el-Bejt”, and for Palestine Dalman explains: “Die Zeltdecke (bēt šaʿr) . . . ist die Veranlassung, daß die Beduinen ihr Zelt bēt šaʿr nennen” (DAL VI:12, passim). In Duwwār əl-Maʿābda the velum of canvas is either called sqaf (see point c) or ḥṣēra “mat”. The latter applies also to the canvas velum of the gēṭōn. This suggests a former use of mats as roof-cloth.35

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Tense and Aspect in Semitic: A case study based on the Arabic of the Omani Šarqiyya and the Mehri of Dhofar

Domenyk Eades and Janet C.E. Watson

This chapter examines the verbal systems of two Semitic languages spoken in Oman. According to Holes (2004), the Classical Arabic verbal system is primarily aspectual in nature, although in many modern Arabic dialects this has evolved into absolute tense systems. In many conservative Bedouin varieties of Arabic such as the Najdi dialect described by Ingham (1994), the aspectual system has largely been preserved. In this paper, we examine new data from two Semitic languages spoken in Oman: the Arabic dialect of the Šarqiyya region and the Modern South Arabian language, Mehri. It is shown that while the verbal systems differ in some respects, both systems are adequately described as aspectual, with tense implications determined by either context or the use of tense particles.

1. Introduction

This study is a contribution towards understanding Semitic verbal systems by presenting an analysis of new data from conservative varieties of two Semitic languages spoken in the south of the Arabian Peninsula. Our study discusses the verbal system of the Arabic dialect of the Šarqiyya region of Oman, a conservative Bedouin dialect similar in type to the dialects of inner Arabia,1 and the verbal system of the Modern South Arabian language, Mehri. The Modern South Arabian languages (MSAL) are arguably the most conservative extant Semitic languages, since they preserve several features known to have existed in ancient Semitic languages that are lacking in other extant Semitic languages. These include: preservation in most varieties of dual number in pronouns, mood marking in the

1 Within this particular dialect group some phonological and morphological variation can be found. For example, the 3rd person plural verbal inflection is realised as either -u or -ūn. These formal contrasts are not relevant to the issue discussed in this chapter. 24 domenyk eades and janet c.e. watson p-stem, distinction between three plain sibilants /s/, /š/ and /ś/ (corresponding to ancient s1, s2 and s3) of which /ś/ is a lateral fricative, and a distinction in all varieties between the cognate of Arabic ḍād and ḏ̣āʾ. In this chapter, we begin by discussing the issue of tense and aspect in relation to Classical Arabic and the modern Arabic dialects. We consider the form, and then the function, of the different verbal inflections; finally, we examine the expression of tense and aspect in Šarqiyya Arabic and Mehri through the use of affixes and particles.

2. Tense and Aspect in Arabic

2.1 Defining Tense and Aspect Tense, (modality) and aspect are distinct conceptual categories that are “sometimes difficult to tease apart” (Payne 1997: 234). According to Comrie (1985: 9), tense is “a grammaticalised location in time”, where a state or event is viewed in relation to a specific time frame. Two different types of tense can be distinguished depending on whether the time frame coincides with the utterance time (absolute tense) or a contextually- determined time frame that may or may not coincide with the utterance time (relative tense). English and other European languages feature absolute tense systems, where verbal inflections indicate past, present and future in relation to the utterance time. In contrast, relative tense systems are not sensitive to utterance time. Comrie (1985: 56) defines relative tense systems as those “where the reference point for location of a situation is some point in time given by the context, not necessarily the present moment.” Relative tense involves the marking of either anteriority (i.e. preceding or following) with respect to the time frame, or simultane- ity with the time frame. Comrie (1985: 56) remarks that: . . . for relative tenses all that is required is the identification of a reference point, the range of potential reference points being in principle all those compatible with the given context. Thus, the present moment is, unless barred by context, always available as a reference point for relative tenses. Aspect defines the internal event structure or stative semantics described by a predicate. Comrie (1976: 3) states that the two most basic aspectual distinctions—perfective and imperfective—constitute “different ways of viewing the internal temporal constituency of a situation.” He distinguishes these categories as follows: tense and aspect in semitic 25

perfectivity indicates the view of a situation as a single whole, without distinction of the various separate phases that make up that situation, while the imperfective pays essential attention to the internal structure of the situation (Comrie 1976: 16). The basic paradigms to be examined in this study are illustrated below with examples from Classical Arabic. Henceforth relevant elements are highlighted in bold in the data examples and, where appropriate in the gloss, in italics: s-stem (ḍaraba zayd ar-rajul) رضب زيد الرجل .a ‘Zaid hit/has hit the man’ p-stem zayd yaḍrib ar-rajul زيد يرضب الرجل .b ‘Zaid hits/is hitting/will hit the man’ Temporal meaning is also conveyed in Arabic and other Semitic languages to varying degrees of productivity by means of the Active Participle (AP). This is a deverbal nominalisation that conveys a range of inferred aspectual meanings in both Classical Arabic and modern Arabic dialects: Active participle zayd ḍārib rajul زيد ٌ ضارب ًرجال .b ‘Zaid hits/ is hitting/ will hit a man’ The function of the verbal system has been a major theme in Arabic linguistics as well as in the broader context of Semitic linguistics. The verbal systems of Arabic varieties have been characterised alternatively as marking aspect, tense, or a combination of both tense and aspect. West- ern grammars of Arabic have traditionally defined the verbal system of Classical Arabic in aspectual terms, referring to the basic inflectional paradigms as Perfective versus Imperfective (Wright 1898; Eisele 1999: 4ff ). Eisele (1999) argues that such aspectual analyses are problematic, arguing for a combined tense and aspect analysis. Comrie remarks that Classical Arabic “incorporates both aspect and (relative) tense” (1976: 80). He also states in this regard: I will assume that the usual interpretation of the opposition, in the absence of contextual factors to the contrary, is that the Perfect encodes [relative] past tense and perfective aspect, while the Imperfect encodes [relative] present (or more generally non-past) tense and imperfective aspect (Comrie 1989: 7) 26 domenyk eades and janet c.e. watson

An alternative analysis is provided by Dahlgren (2008), who argues that in Arabic (and Hebrew), the primary function of the verbal system is to mark relative tense. In the light of the diversity of analyses of the Arabic verbal system, some recent studies have referred to the verbal alternations as suffix stem (s-stem) versus prefix stem (p-stem) (cf. Holes 2004; Horesh 2009). These terms are employed henceforth in this article.

According to Holes (2004: 232), the Arabic verbal system was historically aspectual in nature, but in different modern dialects this system has evolved to varying degrees into tense systems. This tendency, he remarks, is more pronounced in the more innovative urban varieties in which absolute tense systems have developed. According to Holes (2004) and Ingham (1994), the conservative Bedouin dialects of the Arabian Peninsula retain the aspectual/relative tense system of Classical Arabic. While in many dialects the s-stem generally coincides with verbs specifying states of affairs anterior to the utterance time, Holes specifies a number of common ways in which the s-stem is used in non-past contexts in more conservative Arabic varieties, thereby demonstrating that “pastness” is not central to the meaning of the s-stem” (2004: 218ff; cf. also Horesh 2009: 456): (a) in all conditional clauses, even those of the “open” type (e.g., ‘If he goes’ in ‘If he goes, I’ll go too’), the action/state in the main clause is envis- aged as dependent on the prior occurrence of another action/state [. . .] For this reason, an s-stem verb is used to express the condition even though the action to which it refers is in the future, relative to the time of the utterance [. . .] (b) The s-stem of verbs of emotion and cognition is often used with little or no implication of pastness [. . .] Compare the schoolboy’s dialectal reply to his teacher fihimt! (s-stem, dynamic value) with English present tense ‘(Now) I understand!’[. . .] (c) performative verbs like wāfaqa ‘to agree’ and qabila ‘to accept’ are also commonly used in the s-stem [. . .] (d) optatives involving exhortations to God exist in great variety and profu- sion for every conceivable kind of social occasion, situation, and phatic need. This view concords with Comrie (1985: 64), who notes that: The extent to which aspect or tense is predominant seems to have changed over the course of the development of Arabic . . . In modern written Arabic, overt tense markers . . . are usual, even in the presence of temporal adverbs (1976: 80, f.1, cited in Ingham 1994: 88). tense and aspect in semitic 27

The more conservative nature of the Bedouin dialects is supported by Ing- ham’s (1994: 87) analysis of the verbal system of the Najdi Arabic dialect of Saudi Arabia: Arabic can be regarded as a language of the type showing Aspect with tense implications . . . The Najdi dialects still preserve that original Aspect- centred system of Classical Arabic, although it can be shown that structures showing a new tense-based system can occasionally be found within the macrostructure.

3. The Study

3.1 The Data The data for this study is drawn from two separate databases representing the two languages. The databases include natural speech, elicited, and partially elicited data. The first was collected by Domenyk Eades and represents the Arabic dialects of mainly Bedouin communities of the Šarqiyya region of northern Oman. These could be considered a single dialect, although there is some, mainly phonological, variation across the dialects. Material from this database is henceforth referred to here as Šarqiyya Arabic, and data examples are followed by the abbreviation (ŠA). The Arabic dialects of Oman have been noted for their grammatical conser- vatism in contrast with other dialects of peninsular Arabic (Eades 2009; Holes 1998, 2004), and are typologically similar to the Arabic variety spoken in the Najd (cf. Ingham 1994). The Šarqiyya Arabic data was collected from 2007 to 2011, and is represented by around 25 hours of transcribed texts. The other database was collected by Janet Watson, and represents the Modern South Arabian language, Mehri.2 There are three principal dialect groups of Mehri: western Yemeni Mehri, initially described by the Vien- nese Expedition in the early twentieth century; Mahriyōt, spoken in and around Ḥawf, the far east of Yemen; and Mehreyyet, spoken in Dhofar in southern Oman. Of these, Mehreyyet is shown by Watson (2012) to be the most conservative variety in all aspects of grammar. As shown in Watson

2 The additional transcription symbols employed for Mehri are: /ḳ/ velar ejective plosive /ś/ voiceless lateral fricative /ṣ́/ pharyngealised voiceless lateral fricative /ṣ̌/ pharyngealised voiceless alveopalatal fricative/affricate 28 domenyk eades and janet c.e. watson

(2012), the dialects differ in terms of phonology, syntactic and morphological structure and in terms of lexis. They differ minimally in the expression of tense and aspect. We focus here on the conservative southern Omani dialect, Mehreyyet, with data from Watson’s fieldwork conducted between 2009 and 2011. Where relevant, comparative data from Mahriyōt is taken from Sima (2009) and from Watson’s fieldwork conducted in al-Ghaydha, Yemen in 2008. Data from Sima (2009) has the abbreviation Sima followed by text and line number provided in footnotes. Watson’s Mahriyōt fieldwork data is followed by the abbreviation (Mo), and Mehreyyet fieldwork data by the abbreviation (M).3

3.2 Method The verbal systems of the varieties investigated comprise three grammatical forms: s-stem, p‑stem and Active Participle (AP). The AP is more productively used in Šarqiyya Arabic than in Mehri. In Šarqiyya Arabic, the AP is used to form deverbal nominals with implied temporal meanings. In both languages, other tense, modal and aspectual meanings are conveyed by means of affixes and particles. These are discussed separately in section 8. The discussion considers the various factors contributing to differences in the meanings of each form. One factor which is tied to the meaning of a given form concerns the Aktionsart (i.e. inherent lexical aspectual) value of the stem. The meaning conveyed by a given inflectional paradigm may vary according to whether the lexical stem is dynamic/stative or telic/atelic. Also considered in our analysis is the illocutionary force of the clause in which the inflected verb occurs. Verbs employed in optative, cohortative, and other types of clauses associated with semantically restricted stems are generally associated with a given stem type. Signifi- cant in our analysis is the use of s-stem verbs based on stative stems due to the fact that in many cases they do not refer to past states of affairs but rather to present states. This phenomenon is particularly common in Semitic languages (Horesh 2009: 256). Finally, we examine the syntactic context in which the inflected verb is employed.

3 These two dialects differ in the realisation of *j and *ʕ. *j is realised as a voiced alveopalatal affricate in Mahriyōt, but as a voiced velar plosive in Mehreyyet. *ʕ is realised as a voiced pharyngeal approximant in all lexemes in Mahriyōt. In Mehreyyet, *ʕ has no realisation in some lexemes; in a few lexemes, it is realised with salient pharyngeal constriction; in other lexemes, it is realised as creaky voice or a glottal stop. tense and aspect in semitic 29

4. Form of the s-stem

4.1 Šarqiyya Arabic The dialects of Oman have been noted for their retention of conservative grammatical features that have disappeared from dialects spoken in many other parts of the Arab world, such as the retention of gender distinction in the 2nd and 3rd person plural inflections. The examples in the tables in this section show paradigms of the basic verbal form of the root x-d-m, which was chosen here due to its occurrence in both languages under investigation:

Table 1. Šarqiyya Arabic, xdam ‘to serve’, s-stem sing plural 1 xdamt xdamna 2m xdamt xdamtu 2f xdamti xdamtǝn 3m xdam xdamaw 3f xdamat xdaman

4.2 Omani Mehri (Mehreyyet) Mehreyyet, in common with Mahriyōt, but in contrast to western Yemeni Mehri, maintains dual number in pronouns and verbal inflection. Most inflections in the s-stem involve suffixation, including, in the case of 3rd masculine singular and 3rd feminine plural, null suffixation. Verbs that take stem-final -VVC, however, in the 3rd masculine singular/3rd feminine plural form, are inflected for 3rd masculine plural through ablaut of the stem-final long vowel: thus, xdawm ‘they m. worked’ contrasts with xdūm ‘he/they f. worked’.

Table 2. Omani Mehri, xdūm—‘to work’, s-stem sing dual plural 1 xdamk xdamkī xdūman 2m xdamk xdamkam 2f xdamš xdamkan 3m xdūm xdamōh xdawm 3f xadamūt xdamtōh xdūm 30 domenyk eades and janet c.e. watson

5. Form of the p-stem

5.1 Šarqiyya Arabic The p-stem in Šarqiyya Arabic is typical of modern Arabic dialects, in that mood inflections are not exhibited. However, in contrast with many dialects of urban regions throughout the Arab world, plural and feminine inflections of p-stem verbs retain final /n/. Finally, Šarqiyya Arabic has no progressive/continuous/indicative marker such as the b- prefix that occurs in dialects of Egypt, the Levant, and some dialects of Yemen. The only verbal marker in the dialect is the irrealis modal marker b-, which indicates futurity, condition, and irrealis, and thus has a different function from Egyptian/Levantive bi-.

Table 3. Šarqiyya Arabic, xdam—‘to serve’, s-stem sing plural 1 axdam nxadam 2m txadam txadmūn 2f txadmīn txadmǝn 3m yxadam yxadmūn 3f txadam yxadmǝn

5.2 Omani Mehri The MSAL maintain morphologically expressed mood distinctions in the p-stem. Mehreyyet exhibits three moods: indicative, subjunctive and conditional, of which only the indicative and subjunctive are maintained in the Mehri of both eastern and western Yemen. The conditional occurs in some optative phrases and in the apodosis of counterfactual conditional sentences, where it may increasingly be replaced by the AP (most commonly referred to as the future participle, cf. Lonnet 1994; Watson, 2012). The p-stem is generally inflected by suffixes and/or prefixes, as in Arabic; however, in contrast to Arabic, 2nd feminine singular and masculine plural inflections may involve internal vowel ablaut: in the indicative of ridd ‘to return’, 3rd masculine plural is realised as ya-rdawd as opposed to 3rd masculine singular ya-rdūd, and 2nd masculine plural ta-rdawd contrasts with 2nd masculine singular ta-rdūd; in the indicative of xdūm, 2nd feminine singular t-xaydam contrasts with 2nd masculine singular t-xōdam. tense and aspect in semitic 31

Table 4. xdūm—‘to work’, p-stem, indicative sing dual plural 1 axōdam axadmōh nxōdam 2m txōdam txadmōh txadmam 2f txaydam txadman 3m yixōdam yixadmōh yixadmam 3f txōdam txadmōh txadman

Table 5. xdūm—‘to work’, p-stem, subjunctive sing dual plural 1 laxdēm laxdamōh naxdēm 2m taxdēm taxdamōh taxdēmam 2f taxdēmī taxdēman 3m yaxdēm yaxdamōh yaxdēmam 3f taxdēm taxdamōh taxdēman

Table 6. xdūm—‘to work’, p-stem, conditional sing dual plural 1 (l)axdēman laxdamayan naxdēman 2m taxdēman taxdamayan taxdēman 2f taxdēman taxdēman 3m yixdēman yaxdamayan yaxdēman 3f taxdēman taxdamayan taxdēman

In the discussion of tense and aspect in the sections that follow, we begin by considering meanings associated with the s-stem and p-stem, and then we discuss inflectional means by which tense and aspect are marked.

6. Meanings Associated with the s-stem

The s-stem most commonly refers to actions or states that have experienced a beginning, middle and end, and thus exhibit perfective aspect (cf. Comrie 1976). In certain contexts and with verbs with specific semantic values, the s-stem conveys ingressive aspect, and is associated with the cohortative and optative moods. In the following sections, the meanings conveyed in the different examples are described with respect to the aspectual value conveyed and the utterance time. 32 domenyk eades and janet c.e. watson

6.1 Dynamic s-stem Verbs: Complete Action Based on dynamic stems, s-stem inflections can specify a complete action, whether in the past, present or future in relation to the utterance time.

6.1.1 Past By virtue of the fact that the s-stem verb in both languages refer to a state or action that has experienced a beginning, middle and an end, it is interpreted in both languages as referring to past time. In unmarked clauses, a complete action is interpreted as having occurred at some time in the past with respect to the moment of speech. The following examples of Šarqiyya Arabic are all taken from narratives referring to events in the past in relation to the utterance time:

ṭallaʕaw bitrōl min al-arḏ̣ ‘They got petrol out of the ground.’ (ŠA) wa-l-ḥīn tyassarǝt il-umūr akṯar ‘Now things have become easier.’ (ŠA) yaddēnāh yaddēnāh baʕdiən daxxalnāh fi l‑ḥīra əṣ-ṣəḥḥ ‘We picked them [i.e. dates]; we picked them. After that, we put them in a room, the dates.’ (ŠA) Complete action in the case of dynamic verbs is also conveyed by the s-stem in Mehri: l-hīs ʕmärk ‘as I said.’4 (Mo) wzumk ḳarawš ‘I gave money.’ (M) aḥmēd śītam xaymah bɛ̄r ‘Ahmed bought five camels.’ (M)

6.1.2 Present State Resulting from a Prior Action (Present Perfect Meaning) The s-stem can be used in both languages with adverbials to indicate lengths of time since the completion of the event specified by the s-stem verb: min snīn min snīn rawwaḥat ‘For years, for years [tribal wars] have ended [lit. have left].’ (ŠA) man hīs ḥkūm ḳābūs ḥābū l-ād latġam lā ‘Since Qaboos came to power, people have not killed each other.’ (M) man snēt sabʕīn aḥḥarb man bīn aḳbōyal nathī ‘Since 1970 wars between the tribes have ended.’ (M)

4 Sima 12:44. tense and aspect in semitic 33

6.1.3 Completed Action in the Future (Future Perfect Meaning) The s-stem verb is not associated by default with a state of affairs that occurred prior to the utterance time. The s-stem in both languages may specify actions or states that will have taken place prior to a specified time in the future. No specialised construction is required to convey this meaning as the future meaning is understood purely through context: baʕdmā waṣalt bākir, ani zahhabt al-mazraʕa ‘When you arrive tomorrow, I will have tidied up the garden.’ (ŠA) ba-tšūf-hǝm baʕdēn kalaw kǝllǝh ‘You will see then that they have/will have eaten everything.’ (ŠA) This meaning may also be conveyed by the use of the s-stem with auxiliary elements. In Šarqiyya Arabic, a verb in the s-stem preceded by the existential verb marked by the future prefix b-, i.e. ba-ykūn ‘will be’ has a future perfect interpretation, as in: an-nāga ba-tkūn wṣalat ‘The she-camel will have arrived (s-stem).’ (ŠA) More commonly, however, the AP form is used to convey this meaning, as highlighted in the following: an-nāga ba-tkūn wāṣla ‘The she-camel will have arrived (AP).’ (ŠA) In Mehri, following a future (active) participle, the s-stem of dynamic verbs preceded by the aspectual particle bār5 expresses the expected completion of an event at some point in the future. kasyēya tēk bār ghamk ‘[They] will (m.) find you (m.s.) have already gone.’ (M) Following the AP of wīḳa (from wīḳaʕ ‘to become’), the s-stem preceded by bār can express the expected completion of an event at the present time or at a future point in time. Thus, depending on the wider context, wḳayta bār wuṣulūt can be interpreted as ‘At the present moment in time, she has (probably) arrived.’ or ‘At some point in the future, she will have arrived.’, and wḳōna bār sōfar as ‘At the present moment in time, he has (probably) set off.’ or ‘At some point in the future, he will have travelled.’

5 Transcribed as bər in Johnstone (1987, etc.) and Simeone-Senelle (1997, etc.), but is always realised with a full vowel and frequently with a long vowel. In poetry and songs, it counts as metrically long (Liebhaber 2010) and therefore must be analysed as bār rather than bər or bar. 34 domenyk eades and janet c.e. watson

6.1.4 Distant Past (Past Perfect Meaning) When an s-stem verb in a complementary clause refers to an event or state that obtained in the past relative to the time referred to by an s-stem verb in the main clause, the time relative to the present moment is pluperfect or distant past. In both languages, the s-stem verb takes no verbal particle. In the following examples, the main clause is separated from the subordinate clause by a forward slash: gāl ḥamad fi l-bāriḥa / ṣallaḥ al-ʕǝzba ‘Hamad said yesterday that he had [already] fixed the camel enclosure.’ (ŠA) In the following example from Omani Mehri, the event ṭād ḳlūb ‘Someone turned [their car] over’ had experienced a beginning, middle and an end at the time that the ‘saying’ had taken place: fulān āmūr / ṭād ḳlūb ‘Someone said someone had turned [their car] over.’ M.NS

6.2 Stative s-stem Verbs: Ingressive Aspect With stative stems, the s-stem inflection in Šarqiyya Arabic and Mehri can specify ingressive meaning. Ingressive is an aspectual category that involves entry into a physical or mental state that continues to obtain at the moment of speech (cf. Cuvulay-Haak 1997: 135–136 for Standard Arabic and other dialects of Arabic). According to Comrie (1976: 19), in many languages, the perfective forms of verbs are often associated with ingressive meaning, particularly those based on stative stems. Ingressive meaning is conveyed by the s-stem in both languages, although this is considerably more frequent and less lexically specific in Mehri than in Šarqiyya Arabic.

6.2.1 Šarqiyya Arabic In Šarqiyya Arabic, s-stem inflections can specify entry into the physical state specified by the stem. The s-stem is with some stems used to refer to the physical state resulting from that ingressive event, although generally such meanings are conveyed by other means. kbart ‘You have grown older/ you are older!’ (ŠA) taʕibt ‘I got tired; I [ just] got tired.’ (ŠA) miriḏ̣t, tmarraḏ̣t ‘I got sick; I [ just] got sick.’ (ŠA) yiʕt /ʕaṭašt ‘I got/am hungry/thirsty.’ (ŠA) tense and aspect in semitic 35

The s-stem is marked when the state is still ongoing at the time of reference. In such cases, adjectives or p-stem verbs are more commonly employed. These refer to states and ongoing activities respectively, as shown in the following examples:

ani taʕbān/ marīḏ̣/ ʕatšān ‘I am sick/ tired/ thirsty’ (ŠA) rāsi yʕawwarni ‘My head hurts’ [lit. my head is hurting me] (ŠA) In Šarqiyya Arabic, continuing states resulting from entry into a mental state are more commonly expressed by the s-stem than states resulting from entry into a physical state. Examples of such s-stem forms include the following: ʕalimt ṣāliḥ ba-ttazaway min wahībiyya ‘I found out/know that Salih will marry a Wahibi woman.’ (ŠA) kariht āḏi l-akal ‘I don’t like this food!’ (ŠA) ḥabbētǝk ‘I like/love you.’ (ŠA) fariḥt ‘I am happy.’ (ŠA) The s-stem is used specifically to refer to the dynamic element of ingressive verbs denoting mental states. Where a durative sense is intended, either an adjective, as in the first example below, or a p-stem verb is employed: ani farḥān ‘I am happy.’ (ŠA) tʕarif al-bisǝr ‘Do you know biser [boiled mabseli dates]?’ (ŠA) ǝḥibbǝk ‘I like/love you.’ (ŠA) mā aʕrif hǝm ṯǝlāṯīn rayāl walla arbaʕīn ‘I don’t know if they were thirty men or forty [in number].’ (ŠA)

6.2.2 Mehri In Mehri, s-stem verbs specify both ingressive meaning and the state resulting from that ingressive act. This function is much more frequent in Mehri than in Šarqiyya Arabic. This greater productivity is evident by the fact that s-stem verbs can undergo subtle aspectual modifications by means of pre-verbal particles (Rubin 2010: 147–149). The verb in such cases is commonly prefixed by the prefix ḏa- (ibid), which indicates continuous aspect (cf. Simeone-Senelle 2003: 248–249). Examples of continuing states resulting from entry into a physical state include the following. ḏa-gāyak ‘I am hungry’ (M). īmōh ḏa-ḳaṭʾak wīyan ‘Today I am very tired’ (M). ḏa-handaš ‘You (f.s.) are sleepy/tired’ (M). 36 domenyk eades and janet c.e. watson

Note that in contrast with Šarqiyya Arabic, no possible adjectival para- phrase can be made of these sentences. As such, the ingressive function of the s-stem in Mehri is significantly more productive than in Šarqiyya Arabic. Adjectives in Mehri are employed only when specifying intrinsic or (semi-)permanent states. Thus, hōh mrayṣ́ ‘I am ill’ implies both that the speaker has been sick for a longer period of time than hōh ḏa-gilwak ‘I am ill’, and that the time of becoming sick is not determined.

Verbs specifying continuing mental states resulting from entry into that state are expressed in Mehri by s-stem verbs, as in Šarqiyya Arabic. Exam- ples include: hēt ǟr ḏa-ġräbk ‘Do you (m.s.) know?’6 (M) ḏ-ʕamläk / tīhäm ynäkʕam bīhäm ǟr män lä-kwayt ‘I think they (m.) import them (m.) just from Kuwait.’7 (M) ḏa-ʕamk / tēk al-hēt ḏa-ḳyisk tšɛ̄man lā ‘I don’t think you (m.s.) will agree.’ (M) One common instance of the s-stem to express entry into a mental state is (ḏa-)ḳīs, which occurs in both Mahriyōt and Mehreyyet, but not in western Yemeni Mehri. This construction is generally described in the literature as taking a following verb in the subjunctive to express intentional or imminent future. More accurately, it expresses entry into the mental state of intention, with the intended action or state provided in the subordinate p-stem verb. Such uses of the s-stem do not occur in Šarqiyya Arabic. Examples include: ḏa-ḳīsōt tankaʕ ‘She will/intends to come.’ (Mo) ḏa-ḳīsēt twōgah hbɛ̄r wa-mġōran ta-rdēd ‘She will/intends to take the camels out and then come back.’ (M) aḳisk la-ġbarš bi-ṯamarīt ‘I will meet you (f.s.) in Thamarit.’ (M) In a few verbs and verbal inflections of particularly high frequency, the s-stem verb indicating the ingressive is not preceded by the continuous aspect prefix ḏa-. These include wīda ‘to know’ in the 1st and 2nd person, and verbs relating to physical states at particular times of day, most commonly used in greeting routines:8

6 Sima 1:37. 7 Sima 59:114. 8 Cf. San’ani Arabic ka-msaytū ‘How are you (m.pl.) [in the evening]?’. tense and aspect in semitic 37

wadak lā ‘I don’t know.’ (M) hībōh watxafk ‘How are you (m.s.) [in the evening]?’ (M) watxafk bi-xayr ‘I am well [in the evening].’ (M) hībōh haṣbaḥš ‘How are you (f.s.) [in the morning]?’ (M) haṣbaḥk bi-xayr ‘I am well [in the morning].’ (M) In the case of other verbs which occur with relatively high frequency to express entry into either physical or mental states,9 ḏa- is optional: (ḏa-)ḳaṭʾak ‘I am in pain.’ (M) (ḏa-)śatūḳak līkam ‘I miss you (m.pl.)’ (M) hībōh (aḏ-)śinšə tay ‘What do you (f.s.) think of me?’ (M) The s-stem of normally dynamic verbs in Mehri can also indicate entry into a state of being in a particular activity. Verbs in such instances are always preceded by the aspectual particle ḏa‑. Thus, Mehreyyet asafrak būḏ̣abī ‘I/you (m.s.) travelled to Abu Dhabi’ (M) where the subject has completed the activity of travelling contrasts with hōh ḏ-asafrak ‘I am [in a state of] travelling’, where entry into the activity has been completed, but the activity itself is ongoing. Preceded by a future participle, the s-stem in Mehri may refer to a state that will have begun to obtain in the future: mahabṭāta lā ār bār ġribš tēs kallas ‘You (f.s.) won’t take long until you know it (f.) all’ (M) nkayta wa-hēt ḏa-hanśarš ‘You (f.s.) will come [in a state of being] refreshed’ (M)

6.3 Cohortatives Cohortative sentences are 1st person plural imperatives (indirect com- mands). This meaning is expressed with the s-stem, and may be used for religious invocations, movements, or other actions such as sitting. The use of the s-stem to express imperative and cohortative meanings has been noted in Yemeni dialects of Arabic (Watson 1993: 66, 1994: 245). Cohorta- tives may be expressed by the s-stem in both languages under investigation, although in Mehri the subjunctive of the p-stem is more frequently used to express the cohortative. In these contexts, the completed act expressed by the s-stem is understood as something hoped or wished for. mšēna ‘Let’s go!’ (ŠA) al-lēl tʕaššēna ‘It’s night time. Let’s have dinner!’ (ŠA)

9 Including (ḏa-)ḳīs discussed above. 38 domenyk eades and janet c.e. watson

These are often introduced by the particle hayyi, as shown below: hayyi rawwaḥna ‘Let’s go!’ (ŠA) hayyi tġaddēna ‘Let’s have lunch!’ (ŠA) Examples of the use of the s-stem for cohortatives in Mehri include: awtakūlan l-abɛ̄lī ‘Let’s put our trust in God!’ [said before travelling] (M) šūgūśan ‘Let’s go [in the afternoon]!’ (M)

6.4 Optatives The optative is a modal category involving the expression of a wish or hope. This may be expressed in Šarqiyya Arabic by the s‑stem in the case of verb-initial clauses, particularly in the case of greetings and expressions invoking the name of God. These are generally fixed expressions from Classical Arabic, as the following examples show.10 ḥayyāk allāh ‘May God keep you alive!’ (ŠA) ṭawwal allāh ʕǝmrǝk ‘May God lengthen your life!’ (ŠA) bārak allāh fīk ‘May God bless you!’ (ŠA) ḥayy allāh min yā ‘May God keep alive he who comes!’ (ŠA) In Mehri, the optative is invariably expressed by the p-stem in the subjunctive mood. In Šarqiyya Arabic, the optative may also be expressed by the p-stem where the verb is preceded by the subject (cf. 7.2).

6.5 Performatives Performative utterances, referred to in the German literature as Koinzi- denzfall (e.g. Wagner 1953: 41), typically describe an action that is accomplished during the speech act itself. The performative is described by Waltke & O’Connor (1990) as the ‘instantaneous perfect’ which “represents a situation occurring at the very instant the expression is being uttered”. Performative verbs include verbs referring to acts of marrying, divorc- ing, swearing and placing trust. The performative is commonly expressed through the s-stem in western Semitic languages (Waltke & O’Connor 1990), as it is in the languages under discussion.

10 As in other dialects of Arabic and other Western Semitic languages such as the Hebrew, e.g. ḥay Yhwh ‘Long live Yahwe!’ (Lipiński 2001: 525). tense and aspect in semitic 39

tawakkalt ʕala allāh ‘I put my trust in God!’ (ŠA) ṭallaqtik ‘I divorce you (f.s.).’ (ŠA) wakkalt māli lak ‘I put my property in your trust.’ (ŠA) xalyak tēš ‘I divorce you (f.s.).’ (M) hārask bayš ‘I marry you (f.s.).’ (M) bār gzimk lūk twōgah hibɛ̄r ‘I swear you (m.s.) [must] take the camels out in the early morning’ (M) hwaś ̣k tēk l-abɛ̄lī ‘I put you (m.s.) in God’s trust.’ (M)

6.6 Conditionals The s-stem occurs in specific syntactic contexts in conditional clauses in both languages.

6.6.1 Conditionals in Šarqiyya Arabic In Šarqiyya Arabic, the verb in both the protasis and the apodosis of conditional sentences may be in the s-stem depending on the factuality of the statement. In the protasis, the verb must be in the s-stem form when preceded by the conditional particles iḏā, in or lō. In the examples in this section, the s-stem verb in the protasis is highlighted in bold, and the protasis separated from the apodasis by a forward slash.

In sentences referring to conditions in the past, both the protasis and apodosis are in the s-stem: iḏa ḥǝssōh yiba yġīb/ aḏḏanū ‘When(ever) they felt that [the sun] was about to set, they gave/would give the call to prayer.’ (ŠA) iḏā kān al-tamar yāf / yibbis kəḏi yibbis fə-l-šəms ‘If the dates were dry, [it was because] they were dried out (passive) like this, dried out in the sun.’11 (ŠA) Counterfactual conditional clauses employ the conditional particles lō or in. In these sentences, the apodosis may be either in the s-stem or the p-stem marked by the irrealis/future b- prefix (see section 7.5.1): lō šǝft ams ʕabdallah / sāʕadtǝh ‘If I had seen Abdullah yesterday, I would have helped him.’ (ŠA) in kint ba-trawwaḥ sūg, b-arrawwǝḥ ʕindǝk ‘If you were going to the market, I would have gone with you.’ (ŠA)

11 Tasāwīr. 40 domenyk eades and janet c.e. watson

6.6.2 Conditionals in Mehri In Mehri, the verb in the protasis of all types of conditional sentence is most commonly in the s-stem, although even where introduced by a conditional particle the protasis may be a non-verbal clause or the verb may be in the p-stem or be an AP. Verbs in the s-stem never occur in the apodosis. Factual conditional clauses: [kisš āṭar / taw] [wa-l-kisš āṭar lā / šukalāṭa] ‘If you (f.s.) find perfume, [that’s] okay. If you don’t find perfume, [then give] chocolate.’ (M) hām śīnī tēṯ ḏa-haḳbalūt / yʾōmar ḏīmah sēh ḥāmay ‘If he sees a woman approach, he says that is her, my mother.’ (M) hǟm sēh ḳbīṣōt ḥarmǟt, / yärʕayb līs ġyūj ‘If she has been bitten, a woman, men carry out raʕbūt12 on her.’13 (Mo) Counterfactual conditional clauses: lū wadaš / taḳāʾan faxrā lāʾ ‘If you (f.s.) knew, you m.pl. wouldn’t be together.’ (M) hēt wlī drask lā / yḳāʕan hēt wṭōmah lā ‘If you (m.s.) hadn’t studied, you wouldn’t have turned out like that.’ (Mo) Conditional-concessive clauses min hāl wuṣlam / yišxabīr ‘Wherever they m. arrived, they asked.’ (M) wa-mayt ḏa-nakaš / yā ḥayya‎ bayš ‘And whenever you (f.s.) come, welcome!’ (M) amērī hēh / hān śinšə tah axayr ‘Tell (f.s.) him whatever you think is better’ (M)

7. Meanings Associated with p-stem Inflections

In Arabic, the p-stem is employed to specify the “noncompletedness of an action or state” (Holes 2004: 219), and exhibits imperfect aspect. In the languages under discussion, the p-stem may also be used to express optative and cohortative moods, past time in lexically specific instances, and occurs in certain conditional sentences.

12 Traditional folk treatment for snake bites and other puncture wounds (Lonnet & Simeone-Senelle 1987). 13 Sima 1:49. tense and aspect in semitic 41

7.1 Incomplete Actions and States 7.1.1 General Truths In contexts lacking any additional linguistic or extra-linguistic information, the p-stem is interpreted in both languages as referring to events or states that occur at the present time or in the future. These may be general, timeless truths, or habits and other non-punctual processes: yḥibbūn yilʕabūn kurat aṭ-ṭāyira ‘They like playing volleyball.’ (ŠA) yʕallamni ʕilm inglīz ‘He teaches me Western [lit. English] knowledge.’ (ŠA) yrūḥū yinūb mikān ysǝmmūh il-yāzir ‘They go south to a place they call al‑Yāzir.’ (ŠA) hēm yāgīb bi-ṭādīdayham ‘They (m.) like each other.’ (M) axōdam bi-maskūt ‘I work in Muscat.’ (M) yiġōrab kāśīyan ‘He knows everything.’ (M) In both languages, verbs of saying occur in the p-stem when a speaker announces they are about to share some new information. This can roughly be translated as ‘I tell you . . . ’ or ‘You know . . . ’: axǝbbrǝk ʕan awwǝl ‘I [will] tell you about long ago . . . ’ (ŠA) agūl lak, mā yimkin nrūḥ bi-s-sayyāra ‘You know [lit. I say to you], we won’t be able to go by car.’ (ŠA) aʕōmar hūk nsēr bi-ssiyaryat ‘I tell you (m.s.), we are going by car.’ (M)

7.1.2 Habits and Other Iterative Processes The p-stem verb can refer to habitual actions in the present or past. In both Šarqiyya Arabic and Mehri, an adverbial element specifying either past or future time is sufficient to place the entire predication in the past, present or future. In the following examples, the adverbial is bracketed off: [awwal ] yširbū min al-widyān wǝlla baḥiṣa ‘In the past, they would drink from the wadis or surface water.’ (ŠA) mā kān šē [awwəl ] šāhi. bas əl-ḥəlīb, bas ḥalīb. yširbūn ḥalīb, wə-yākəlōn al-laḥm, wə-yḏibḥūn əl-yamal as-samīn bih laḥm. yḏibḥūn-hən, wə-yāklūn əl-laḥm mən-hən. ‘Long ago there was no tea; just milk, just milk. They would drink milk and eat meat, and slaughter fat camels which had meat. They would slaughter them and eat the meat from them.’ (ŠA) [baʕdēn] ntʕaššē rbāʕa ‘Later we will have dinner together.’ (ŠA) ḥābū [kall snīnan] yiġarbam śī lyōmah ḏa-nṣrōmah lā ‘People in the past didn’t know these [things] of now.’ (Mo) [kanhūr] yisaknam tah ḥābū ‘People used to live there.’ (M) [gihma] tkūn axayr ‘Tomorrow you (m.s.) will be better.’ (M) 42 domenyk eades and janet c.e. watson

7.1.3 Duratives Past meaning may also be conveyed by context. In the following example, the speaker is talking about things that they would do in the past with the s-stem. Once the context is established, he uses p-stem verbs to convey habitual meaning: ḥərəṯnā-hē da’ēnā-hē məḥrūṯə, nəyīb bəḏr, nəslaḥah fīhā wə-səgēnāhā. ‘We ploughed [the ground]; we left it ploughed up. [Then] we would get seeds and put them in it. Then we watered it.’ (ŠA) Thus, a main verb in the perfect conveying past time will ensure that a verb in the imperfect in the complement clause refers to an incomplete event in the past relative to the utterance time. u lǝbǝs-hā ʕala l‑ḥzām u-ṭalaʕ yirʕā l-bōs ‘He put it on his belt and [then] went out to graze/and grazed the camels.’ (ŠA) mǝšēne nyīb rǝkāb ‘We went out to get/and got the camels.’ (ŠA) In Mehri, the past progressive is frequently indicated by p-stem prefixed by ḏa-, with past meaning conveyed by context or a preceding s-stem verb (cf. Rubin 2010: 145). In the example below, the indicative verbs at-tarʕāyan14 wa-t-taʕmōlan15 refer to events that were ongoing at the time that the act of ‘finding’ had taken place: ksūh baʕltī ḥārawn at-tarʕāyan wa-t-taʕmōlan jalʕaym ‘He met shepherd- esses grazing [goats] and making [a bean dish called] jalʕaym.’ (Mo) Prefixed by ḏa-, the p-stem preceded by the AP of wīḳaʕ (wīḳa) ‘to become’ expresses the expected continuation of an action at the present time or at a future time: wḳayta ṣarōmah at-tātaśyan16 ‘She will be/is probably having supper now.’ (M) wḳayta at-tafayś m-ḏ̣ār swānōt ‘She will be having lunch in a short while.’ (M)

14 < *ḏa-tarʕāyan. 15 < *ḏa-taʕmōlan. 16 < *ḏa-tātaśyan. tense and aspect in semitic 43

7.2 Optatives The optative is invariably realised by one of the moods of the p-stem in Mehri. The conditional mood of the p-stem expresses the optative in independent phrases, as in the examples below: akīnan tēk hnīn ‘I wish you (m.s.) were here.’ (M) afrīḥan bih ‘I would be glad of it (m.).’ (M) tkīnan lyōmah ḥbinša ‘Do you (f.s.) wish those were your children?’ (M) In Mehri, the p-stem expresses the optative in greetings and invocations in which God is the subject irrespective of whether the subject, abɛ̄lī ‘God’, precedes the verb, as in the first two examples below, or not: abɛ̄lī yiṭwīl bi-ʕumrak ‘May God give you (m.s.) a long life!’ (M) abɛ̄lī yisāmak ‘May God bless you (m.s.)!’ (M) taxf lūk āfyat ‘May health and well-being come to you (m.s.) in the evening!’ (M) wa-lūk taxf ‘And may [health and well-being] come to you (m.s.) in the evening!’ (M) tajhamk āfyat ‘May health and well-being come to you (m.s.) in the morning!’ (M) In Šarqiyya Arabic, the optative occurs only with greetings and phrases invoking the name of God where the subject precedes the p-stem verb: allāh ysallmak ‘May God protect you’ (ŠA) allāh ybārak fīk ‘May God bless you’ (ŠA)

7.3 Cohortatives While the cohortative is typically expressed with the s-stem in Šarqiyya Arabic (5.2), it may also be expressed by p-stem verbs: natlāgē bākir ‘Let’s meet tomorrow!’ (ŠA) nṣallī ‘Let’s pray!’ (ŠA) As with the s-stem, cohortatives in the p-stem (5.2) can be introduced by the particle hayyi: hayyi nimši ‘Let’s go!’ (ŠA) hayyi nṣallī ‘Let’s pray!’ (ŠA) In Mehri, cohortatives may be expressed by the s-stem (see 5.2). However, they are more commonly expressed by the p-stem in the subjunctive: 44 domenyk eades and janet c.e. watson

naġtībar ḏ̣ār raḥmēt ‘Let us meet on a rainy day!’ (M) naśnēk ḳrayb ‘Let us see you (m.s.) soon!’ (M)

7.4 Past Time In Mehri, certain verbs only occur in the p-stem, irrespective of the time expressed. In Mehri, yḥōm ‘to want, intend’ (cf. Wagner 1953: 44 for western Yemeni Mehri) is invariably in the imperfect, with only the wider context informing whether clauses such as the following refer to past or present time: yiḥōm yisēr yiġlēḳ man ḥaybith ‘He wants/wanted to go to look for his camel.’ (M) aḥōm latṣal bīkam ‘I am/was about to phone you m.pl.’ (M) More interestingly, the p-stem of the verb ykōb ‘to think’ refers invariably to a past state of mind:17 akōb bay zakk ‘I thought I had a cold.’ (M) akabš aḥād hnayš lā ‘I thought no one was with you (f.s.)’ (M) In Šarqiyya Arabic, the verb of volition, yiba ‘he wants/intends’, almost always occurs in the p-stem regardless of its time reference, as in: iḏā yibayu yitnaqqalū, in kān baʕīd wāyid, ʕala bōš wella ʕala ḥmīr ‘If they wanted to move, if it was very far, [they did so] on camels or donkeys.’ (ŠA) yiba may only occur in the 1st and 2nd person in the s-stem, and only two tokens of the s-stem form baġēt ‘I/you wanted’ occur in the corpus.

7.5 Conditionals 7.5.1 Šarqiyya Arabic In Šarqiyya Arabic, the verb in the apodosis of conditional sentences may be in the p-stem in certain syntactic environments. The verb may be in the p-stem in the protasis if it is not preceded by iḏā. These p-stem verbs are always marked by the irrealis/future prefix b-.

17 Contrasting with the s-stem ʕamlak ~ amk ‘I think’ which invariably refers to present state of mind. tense and aspect in semitic 45

Protasis iḏā nṭǝh ba-tāxiḍ ḥǝrmǝh ba-tʕarris / hāḏǝ yiqūm ḥaflǝ ‘If you take a woman [and] you marry, a party is held.’ (ŠA) Apodosis lō kān ḏīb / ba‑yākil yākil min bʕīd ‘If there was a wolf, it would eat, eat far away.’ (ŠA) iḏā rǝḥt hnāk bi s-sayyara / ba-tġarraz fi r-ramal ‘If you go there by car, you’ll get stuck in sand.’ (ŠA)

7.5.2 Mehri In Mehri, the verb in the protasis in both factual and counterfactual conditional sentences is most commonly in the s-stem (cf. 5.5.2). In factual conditional clauses, it may be in the p-stem prefixed by ḏa- (cf. 7.2), particularly when the condition described is likely to obtain. hām at-taġawlaḳ18 ār la-hāl amōl ḏa-ḥābū / txawlas manh ‘If you (m.s.) are just looking at other people’s livestock, you’ll lose out [i.e. they are not yours].’ (M) hām ḏa-nkōtab ṣarōmah / nḥōm aḥād yirbāšan lā ‘If we write now, we don’t want anyone to disturb us.’ (M) In clauses of concession introduced by tawlū (< *tā wa-lū) ‘even if ’, the verb in the protasis may be in either the s-stem (cf. 5.5.2) or the p-stem: nḳawdar nūṣōl / tawlū‎ hiddam līn ḥōram ‘We’ll be able to arrive, even if they m. have blocked the road off from us.’ (M) āmūr gihmōna laġlēḳ mans / tawlū amūt ‘He said, “I’m going to look for her, even if I die.” ’ (M) A p-stem verb occurs in the apodosis of conditional clauses and clauses of concession most commonly where an event or state may result from a regular or habitual condition: w-hǟn bǟr źīyätk [. . .] / attäbʕak ‘And when it (f.) smells you (m.s.), [. . .] it will follow you.’19 (Mo) hǟn jätfiyōt sänbūḳ, / tḳōdar līs waḥśūk lǟ täjfäys ‘If the boat capsizes, you (m.s.) won’t be able to refloat it f. on your own.’20 (Mo)

18 < *ḏa-taġawlaḳ. 19 sima 2:37. 20 sima 46:14. 46 domenyk eades and janet c.e. watson

hām tḥōm tahmā lā / (t)šṣanyan ‘If she doesn’t want to hear, she pretends to be deaf.’ (M) hām śīnī tēṯ ḏa-haḳbalūt / yʾōmar ḏīmah sēh ḥāmay ‘If he sees a woman approach, he says that is her, my mother.’ (M) tawlū aṣ́āhar ḳṣayr / yiś ̣rūr lā ‘and the back part, even if the back part is short it doesn’t matter’ (M). The verb of volition occurs in the p-stem in both the protasis, as in the first two examples below, or the apodasis: yaḷḷah, sǟʕah xamsah, / hǟm tḥīm tsēr ‘Come on, it’s five o’clock if you m.pl. want to go!’21 (Mo) wōḏam lūk tanśūz śahay ḏōmah / tawlū al-tḥōm ‘You have to drink that tea, even if you don’t want to.’ (M) hām hēt ḏa-matwiyaš / aḥamš šay ‘If you (f.s.) can, I would like you with me.’ (M) hām ḳaṣ́yēya tay bi-ḥaybaytī lā / aḥōm lada⁠ʾ ‘If you/they m. don’t compen- sate me for my camel, I want to know.’ (M) In the apodasis of counterfactual conditional sentences, the verb is most commonly in the conditional mood of the p-stem in Omani Mehri (but not in Yemeni Mehri): lū nakaš nifrīḥan ‘If you (f.s.) had come, we would have been glad.’ (M) w-lū amnādam yiwōda⁠ʾ la-hān wḳōna lihtaksāyan tah l-ād yitayw wa-l-ād yiṣ́ḥōk ‘If man knew what was coming to him, you (m.s.) would find him no longer eating and no longer laughing’ (M) In eastern Yemeni Mahriyōt, yḳāʕan, a frozen form of the conditional mood of wīḳaʕ ‘to become’ often occurs in the apodasis of a countercon- ditional conditional clause: hēt wlī drask lā yḳāʕan hēt wṭōmah lā ‘If you (m.s.) hadn’t studied, you wouldn’t have turned out like that’ (Mo)

8. Analytic Marking of Tense and Aspect

Both Šarqiyya Arabic and Mehri have developed various affixes, particles and auxiliaries to express a number of aspectual and tense meanings. These are described in turn in the following sections.

21 Sima 61:70. tense and aspect in semitic 47

8.1 Aspect Markers 8.1.1 Perfect Aspect The prefix ka- in Arabic and the particle bār in Mehri function similarly to colloquial Arabic reflexes of qad (cf. Ingham 1994: 104ff; Watson 1993: 39), which in its most general sense is used to emphasise perfect aspect.

In Šarqiyya Arabic, the prefix ka-, which in Oman is unique to the spoken Arabic of the Šarqiyya region, marks s-stem verbs to emphasise the completion of an event. ka- is most likely a grammaticalisation of the copular verb kān (cf. 8.2.1): ka-mašēt ṣōb as‑sūg wəllə la ‘Have you already been to the market or not?’ The use of ka- signals a strong emphasis on present relevance. As such, the prefix cannot occur in a clause in conjunction with a temporal adverbial expression. Consider the following examples: a.*ka-mašēt ṣōb as‑sūg grēb sāʕa sabʕ (ŠA) b. mašēt ṣōb as‑sūg grēb sāʕa sabʕ. ‘I went to the market at about seven o’clock.’ (ŠA) ka- can also emphasise past in the past or past perfect meaning. The prefix marks verbs specifying events that had already taken place prior to an event referred to in a narrative set in the past. In the following example, the speaker recalls when a group of men initiated a skirmish with a different clan in order to steal some camels: yōm yāt al-wāḥiya, lagaw ḏāk ar-rāl ka‑ṭāḥ; rbīʕǝh ka-gtǝlǝh . . . ṯāraw min bēn- hǝm. wa-l-ʕarab ka-dzabbanaw . . . ‘When help came, they found that the man had died; their companions had killed him. They had had an argument with each other. The men had sought protection [from the other tribe].’ (ŠA) In Mehri, a similar meaning is conveyed by bār (cf. Simeone-Senelle 1997; Rubin 2010, etc.). In verbal clauses, bār marks perfect aspect before an s-stem verb: bār ḳathawak ‘I’ve already had coffee.’ (M) sēlam bār sōfar ‘Sēlam has just gone.’ (M) bār awōḏan ‘Has the call to prayer been made?’ (M) bār functions as an epistemic particle indicating possibility before a p-stem verb in the indicative mood. In contrast to qad+indicative in Arabic (cf. Watson 1993: 69 for Ṣanʕāni Arabic), bār in its epistemic function most commonly heads contrasting clauses: 48 domenyk eades and janet c.e. watson

bǟr ykäys xawr / wa-bǟr ykäys mǟkän ‘He might find a little or he might find a lot.’ (Mo)22 bār tʾōmar ṯrōh / wa-bār tʾōmar ṯrannēhī ‘You (m.s.) could say ṯrōh [two] or you could say ṯrannēhī.’ (M)

8.1.2 Continuous Aspect In Šarqiyya Arabic, continuous aspect can be inferred from the bare p-stem. However, as has been noted for other Arabic dialects (Watson 2011: 866), the verb gaʕad (lit. ‘to sit’) is employed as a marker of continuous aspect. Nevertheless, instances of this use of gaʕad were rare in the Šarqiyya data: gaʕadaw yitfākarūn ǝ‑mḥērib ‘The Mhayrib men discussed it [for some time].’ (ŠA) In Mehri, as we saw above (6.2.2), the particle ḏa- prefixed to the s-stem expresses continuation of a physical or mental state that has been entered into. Similarly, prefixation of ḏa- to the p-stem in the indicative mood denotes continuous aspect (also described as present progressive, Rubin 2010: 143). In contrast with the Šarqiyya Arabic continuous marker gaʕad, the continuous aspect marker in Mehri can mark both events, as in the first two examples, and states, as in the third example below: sōbar sōbar wa-hēt / at-takītab23 ‘You (f.s.) are always writing!’ (Mo) mōn ḏakmah / ḏī-būḳaṣ́ ‘Who is that who is running?’ (M) hōh ḏ-afakran ‘I am thinking.’ (M) That ḏa- indicates continuous aspect in prefixation to both s-stem and p-stem verbs is underlined by the fact that ḏa-prefixed s-stem and p-stem verbs may be coordinated, as in: wa-l-hēh ḏa-rīkab lā / wa-l-hēh ḏ-isyūr lā ‘and he was neither [in a state of being] mounted nor was he walking.’ (M)

22 Sima 20:7. 23 *ḏa-tkītab. tense and aspect in semitic 49

8.2 Tense Markers 8.2.1 Past Past tense is conveyed in Šarqiyya Arabic by means of a compound construction involving the copula kān/ykūn ‘to be’ followed by an inflected verb. The copula may be inflected, as in the first example below, in most cases it is not, as in the second example. The development of kān as a tense marker has been noted in previous studies for other Arabic dialects (cf. Holes 2004: 232; Watson 1993: 86ff) zaman awwal, kēf al-ʕarab kānat taštaġal ‘Long ago, how did the people work?’ (ŠA) fī sɑnǝt alf u- tisʕamiǝh u-ṯmɑnīn kān ysāfrū fi l-bōš min ʕumān ilɑ ḥadd is-saʕūdiyya ‘In 1980, they travelled on camels from Oman to the Saudi border.’ (ŠA) The past habitual is expressed in Šarqiyya Arabic by the bare p-stem of a verb in conjunction with a past adverbial: awwal aha kǝll ḥadd yṣīdǝh ‘Long ago, yes, everyone would catch them [oryx].’ (ŠA) Past habitual may also be conveyed through use of kān: kān yhāyirū ʕala sintēn, sana, yištǝġlu ‘They used to migrate every two years, [every] year; they would work [there].’ (ŠA) This meaning can also be expressed by kān followed by a p-stem verb. In most cases, kān occurs uninflected, suggesting grammaticalisation of the copula to become a marker of past tense: kān zmān nǝḥǝn nsǝmmīh ‘al-wasm ibǝr’ ‘In the olden days we called it ‘nee- dle branding’.’ (ŠA) kān yhāyiru ʕalɑ sintēn sana yištaġlu yʕɑmlū fi il-kwēt ‘They would migrate for two years, a year, and work, work in Kuwait.’ (ŠA) wǝ kān lǝmma yyū hum hnīh xāṣṣǝh lǝmma yyū hum iḏ̣-ḏ̣ēf hnīh mā ysawwū iḏ-ḏībīḥǝh illā ḥagg iḏ-ḏēf ‘When they used to come here, especially when guests came here, they would slaughter a goat just for the guest.’ (ŠA) The function of kān contrasts in many ways with verbal elements due to the fact that they may modify an entire stretch of discourse rather than a single verb. This use of kān as a “presentential element” was noted by Ingham (1994: 95) for Najdi Arabic. The following example illustrates this in Šarqiyya Arabic: 50 domenyk eades and janet c.e. watson

u-kān yaʕnī lǝmma iš-šǝxṣ illi fīh ad-dūd az-zaidǝh tinfiyir fīh xalaṣ tgūlū hāḏak flan, yaʕnī aš-šaxṣ hāḏa fīh, ar-rēyāl āḏīh fīh mǝġṣ māt māt mi l‑mǝġṣ (ŠA) ‘When the appendix of someone flares up and he dies, you’d say “so-and-so, I mean the person who suffered that, that man had colic, he died from colic”.’ (ŠA) In Mehri, the particle fōna, etymologically related to Soqoṭri fεne ‘face’ (Simeone-Senelle & Lonnet 1985–1986: 273) functions as a tense particle that places a locative, nominal or verbal clause in the past: lōb fōna ġayg arḥaym hāśan wīḳa bih ‘He used to be a really nice man, what happened to him?’ (M) wa-hīh fōna bawmah hinay ‘and he used to be here with me’ (M) fōna ḏ-aḥōjas bīs ‘I was thinking about it (f.)’ (Mo) Before an s-stem verb which refers to past time, fōna places the time referred to by the predication one stage further back in the past, to express pluperfect:

hēt fōna ʾamark haynī inkāy man ḏ̣ār maġrāb ‘You (m.s.) had told me to come after sunset.’ (M) The past habitual in eastern Yemeni Mehri, Mahriyōt, is expressed by the s-stem of the auxiliary verb wīḳaʕ followed by a verb in the p-stem in the indicative mood or by a locative clause:24 wīḳaʕ yḳōfaʕ ‘He used to weave’ (Mo) wīḳaʕ šūk drēham ‘You (m.s.) used to have money’ (Mo) The past habitual in Omani Mehri, Mehreyyet, is expressed by the particle āṣ́am with a pronominal suffix following by the verb in the p-stem or by a locative or nominal clause. The pronominal suffix is co-referential with the following verbal subject:

āś ̣amī aṣṭawṭ āḏ̣amaytī ‘My back used to hurt’ (M) āś ̣amī šay farahayn ‘I used to have a horse’ (M) āś ̣amaš ṣalḥayt ‘You (f.s.) used to be fat’ (M)

8.2.2 Future While not primarily a marker of tense, the prefix b- is used in Šarqiyya Arabic to mark a p-stem verb that refers to a future time:

24 Cf. Wagner (1953: 31) for western Yemeni Mehri. tense and aspect in semitic 51

ba-yimši al-ʕars ‘He’s going to the wedding.’ (ŠA) illi ba-yiṭlaʕ min-hǝm ba-ngǝtlǝh ‘Those of them who come [outside], we will kill them.’ (ŠA) Nevertheless, this prefix also frequently used in non-future contexts, marking verbs specifying conditional, habitual and irrealis meanings. As such the meaning of b- is not primarily a marker of tense, but rather a generalised marker of irrealis mood (cf. Persson 2008). Consider the following example, in which the prefix marks a verb that refers to a habitual action, and does not convey a sense of futurity: wǝ-l-amākin illi hīh zēna l-ḥamd illāh ba‑yintiġlu lhā ‘and the places which were good, thank God, they would move to them.’ (ŠA) Future time in Mehri is expressed either by the AP or, in Mahriyōt, by mad- pronoun followed by a p-stem verb in the subjunctive. The only form of the verb in Mehri which encodes tense morphologically is the AP (Rubin 2007, 2010: 134ff), also described due to its tense function as the future participle (e.g. Lonnet 1994; Watson 2012). With few exceptions, including Mehreyyet mhaḳbal ‘coming’ in phrases such as: awarx amhaḳbal ‘next month’, and mhafgāʾ in śī mēkan mhafgāʾ ‘many frightening things’, the AP does not function adjectivally (cf. Wagner 1953: 49). The AP in Mehri has two main functions: it may express future time, which in subordinate clauses is relative to the time expressed in the main clause; and it may occur in the apodasis of factual, less commonly counterfactual, conditional sentences. Since the AP lacks the morphological category person, person is inferred from the wider linguistic or extra-linguistic context. Future time in main clause: īmoh sīrawtī hō w-hēt bark ḥawōdī ‘Today me (f.) and you (f.) will go to the wadi’ (M) aḥsūs ḥanōfī mōh gihmīt arḥabēt ‘I (f.) can feel myself going to the town today.’ (‘I feel I will go to the town today.’) (M) man ḏ̣ār swānōt sīrōna ḏ̣ār saykal ‘In a few minutes, [I] (m.s.) will go on the bike.’ (M) Relative future time in subordinate clause: akōb tēṯ śabbīta śḥayr ‘I thought the woman was going to the mountains.’ (M) 52 domenyk eades and janet c.e. watson

Result of condition: The result of a factual condition is most often expressed by the AP in Mehri. hām śīnam tēk / ḥabyēsa tēk ‘If they m. see you (m.s.), [they] (m.) will arrest you.’ (M) hām ahandak wa-šūkafk ṣarōmah / mšukfēta lā bi-ḥallay ‘If I’m tired and go to sleep now, [I] (f.) won’t sleep at night.’ (M) hām nakaš / ġabrōna tēš ‘If you (f.s.) come, [I] (m.) meet you.’ (M) The result of a counterfactual condition in Mehreyyet may be expressed by the future participle as an alternative to a p-stem verb in the conditional mood (cf. 6.5.2): lū nakak / ġabrōna tēk ‘If you (m.s.) had come, I would have met you.’ (M) In Mahriyōt, mad-pronoun followed by a p-stem verb in the subjunctive mood expresses future time:25 madš tinkaʕ šīn ‘Will you (f.s.) come with us?’ (Mo) madš taktēb ‘You (f.s.) will write.’ (Mo) In the case of 3ms and 3mpl, the pronoun suffix can be omitted from mad: ḏäkm ḏ-mäd yaġōräm lē ‘The one who wants to slaughter a cow’ (Mo)26

9. Conclusion

This contribution has provided an overview of the verbal systems of conservative varieties of two Semitic languages spoken in southern Arabia. These hitherto under-researched varieties, Šarqiyya Arabic and Mehri, exhibit some differences in the verbal systems. These include differing constraints in the use of the s-stem or p-stem within conditional sentences, and, in Mehri, the almost invariable use of the p-stem to express the optative, and the productive use of the s-stem to express ingressive meaning and resultant continuous state. This use of the s-stem occurs to a limited extent in Šarqiyya Arabic, although resultant continuous states are most commonly expressed by other structures. Despite the differences, it is the inter-variety similarities that demonstrate the value of this study.

25 As in Hobyōt (Simeone-Senelle 2011: 320). 26 Sima 11:4. tense and aspect in semitic 53

While the s-stem is used in many contexts to refer to past states of affairs, reference to past time appears to be secondary to the perfective aspect conveyed by the stem. There are also many cases in which the s-stem is used in non-past contexts. Similarly, the p-stem does not in itself encode tense: while it frequently refers to states of affairs concurrent with the utterance time, the time it refers to is generally determined by context or by the use of explicit tense particles or affixes. Finally, both the s-stem and the p-stem occur in constructions where no tense is implied, such as conditionals, optatives and performatives. We therefore conclude that no inherent time frame is exhibited morphologically in the verbal systems of the varieties of Arabic and Mehri examined here.

References

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Rubin, Aaron. 2007. ‘The Mehri participle: Form, function, and evolution’. Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 17, 381–388. ——. 2010. The Mehri Language of Oman. Leiden. Brill. Sima, Alexander. 2009. Mehri-Texte aus der jemenitischen Sharqīyah: Transkribiert unter Mitwirkung von Askari Sa’d Hugayrān. Edited, annotated and introduced by Janet C.E. Watson and Werner Arnold. Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz. Simeone-Senelle, Marie-Claude. 1997. ‘The Modern South Arabian Languages’. In: Robert Hetzron (ed.), The Semitic Languages. New York. Routledge, 378–423. ——. 2003. ‘De quelques fonctions de ḏ- dans les langues sudarabiques modernes’. In: S. Robert (ed.), Perspectives synchroniques sur la grammaticalisation: Polysémie, transca- tégorialité et échelles syntaxiques. Louvain & Paris. Peeters, 239–252. ——. 2011. ‘Mehri and Hobyot spoken in south Oman and East of Yemen’. al-Nadwah al-Duwalīyah: al-Tabādul al-Ḥaḏ̣ārī al-ʕUmānī al-Yamanī: 7–8 February 2010. Buḥūṯ al- Nadwah. Muscat. Sultan Qaboos University, 301–326. Wagner, Ewald. 1953. Syntax der Mehri-Sprache unter Berücksichtigung auch der anderen Neusüdarabischen Sprachen. Berlin. Akademie-Verlag. Waltke, Bruce K. & Michael Patrick O’Connor. 1990. An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax. Winona Lake, Indiana. Eisenbrauns. Watson, Janet C.E. 1993. A Syntax of Sanʿāni Arabic. Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz. ——. 1994. ‘On the definition of dialect with reference to Yemeni dialects of Arabic’. In: Yasir Suleiman (ed.), Arabic Sociolinguistics: Issues & Perspectives. Richmond. Curzon Press, 237–250. ——. 2011. ‘Arabic dialects’ (general article). In: Stefan Weninger, Geoffrey Khan, Michael P. Streck, and Janet C.E. Watson. The Semitic Languages: An International Handbook. Berlin. Mouton de Gruyter, 851–896. ——. 2012. The Structure of Mehri. Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz. From phonological variation to grammatical change: depalatalisation of /č/ in Salti

Bruno Herin and Enam Al-Wer

In this article we look at the process of depalatalisation of /č/ in the dialect of the city of Salt in Jordan. In particular, the discussion focuses on the morphological and syntactic consequences of the loss of this feature. The analysis is based on approximately fifty hours of recorded interviews with a broad mix of native speakers of the dialect.1 We begin with background information about Jordanian dialects and the dialect of Salt.

The Dialects of Jordan

The varieties of Arabic spoken in Jordan are amongst the less documented dialects of the Levant. Until the completion of Herin (2010), no Jordanian dialect had been fully described. Indeed, much of the descriptive work on Jordanian varieties was the labour of a single scholar, Heikki Palva who published descriptions of various Jordanian dialects. Jordan does not have indigenous non-Arabic-speaking groups; the minority languages spoken in its territory were introduced relatively recently.2 The dialects spoken in Jordan were first classified by Cleveland (1963) in terms of biʾūl, bikūl, bigūl and yigūl dialects—reflecting the realisation of the 3rd person singular of the imperfective of the verb gāl “say” in different dialects. According to this classification, the biʾūl dialects represent the urban varieties in which etymological *q is realised as [ʔ], bikūl desig- nates the central rural Palestinian dialects in which *q is realised as [k], and bigūl refers to dialects in which the reflex of *q is [g]. The term yigūl refers to the dialects of the nomadic and semi-nomadic populations, which

1 All of the interviews were conducted in Salt itself. Part of these data formed the basis of the analyses presented in Al-Wer 1991, Herin 2010 and Al-Wer & Herin 2011. 2 One exception to this may be Domari, the Indo-Aryan language of the Middle Eastern Dōm. The date of their arrival to Jordan is not documented. Other languages spoken in Jordan are Turkish, Armenian, Chechen, and Circassian. 56 bruno herin and enam al-wer lack the indicative marker b- and whose main reflex of *q is [g]. A slight modification to this classification was introduced by Palva (1984). In particular Palva added the group biqūl to include the northern Palestinian dialects in which the reflex of *q is [q]. It is obvious from Cleveland’s and Palva’s taxonomies that what they meant by ‘Jordan’ was actually the two banks of the Jordan River, that is Palestine and Transjordan.3 Strictly speaking, and keeping to the terms of reference we use in this article (see ft. 3) only the bigūl and yigūl groups are native to Jordan. The bikūl varieties were introduced in Jordan by Palestinians from central and northern West Bank towns and villages after they were expelled from their homeland in historical Palestine. Speakers of biʾūl varieties are originally from Palestinian cities (e.g. Jaffa and Haifa as well as Nablus, Jeru- salem, Hebron, etc). Smaller groups of speakers of biʾūl dialects in Jordan are originally from Damascus and various other cities in the region. The dialect of Amman, which is now almost an autonomous variety with native speakers of its own, is the outcome of contact between central Jordanian varieties, whose main representative is the dialect of Salt, and urban Palestinian.4 The sedentary varieties of Jordan are closely related to those spoken in Ḥōrān, a region located between Syria and Jordan and one of the oldest settlements of agrarian communities in the Levant. The Ḥōrāni dialects were described by Jean Cantineau (1940 and 1946). Data about Jordanian varieties proper first appeared in the linguistic atlas of Bergsträsser (1915), but these are very scarce. Most of the descriptive work was done by Palva and appeared in several articles from the late sixties onward, covering both sedentary and nomadic varieties.5 Another angle from which Jordanian dialects have been studied is sociolinguistics. Indeed, modern Jordan is a very interesting case study for issues related to dialect contact, most notably between varieties of the west and the east banks of the Jordan River.6 It is sometimes convenient to distinguish between the native Jorda- nian dialects in terms of ‘sedentary’ and ‘Bedouin’. The main differences

3 The West Bank was officially part of the Kingdom of Jordan during 1950–1988. In this article ‘Jordanian’ refers to the dialects of Jordan proper only, i.e. East Bank dialects. 4 For an account of the formation of the dialect of Amman, see Al-Wer (2002, 2003, 2007 and 2007a). 5 For sedentary dialects, see Palva (1969a, 1970, 1989, 1992, 1994, 2004a, 2007 and 2008). For nomadic varieties, see Palva (1969, 1976, 1978, 1980, 2004). 6 See in this regard Al-Wer (1991, 1999, 2002, 2003, 2007 and 2007a). from phonological variation to grammatical change 57 between them are morphological, including the indicative prefix b-, the trademark of Levantine dialects, which is found in sedentary varieties but absent from Bedouin dialects. The Bedouin dialects are not uniform and important differences exist between southern and northern/eastern dialects. For the south, data are available for the Ḥwēṭāt (Palva 1984a, 2004) and what appears to be a sub-branch of the Ḥwēṭāt, the Zawaida (Sakarna 2002). The dialect of the Bduul of Petra was sketched in Owens & Bani-Yasin (1984). In the north, data about a semi-nomadic dialect of central Jordan can be found in Palva (1976, 1978) and the Bani Ṣaxar grands nomades in Palva (1980). As far as sedentary dialects are concerned, data from Karak are presented in (Palva (1989). The first comprehensive description of a central sedentary variety of Jordan, based on the traditional dialect of Salt (as spoken in the city itself and the nearby town of Fḥēṣ), can be found in Herin (2010).

The Dialect of Salt

Salt is now a medium-size city in the immediate vicinity of the capital Amman (20 km to the northwest). It was until recently the main urban centre not only in central Jordan but also in the whole of Transjordan (Palva 2007). To all intents and purposes, the traditional dialect of Salt can be considered a representative of the sedentary varieties of central Jordan. Central Jordanian dialects belong to the dialects of Ḥōrān (see Herin, forthcoming). Geographically the Horan Plateau stretches from Damascus to the outskirts of Mu’ab (Kerak) in Jordan, and thus includes the Balqa region in which Salt is located. The dialect of Salt (henceforth Salti) is conservative in the sense that it does not share many of the common innovations found in the urban dialects of the Levant. As far as phonology is concerned, traditional Salti has /g/ for *q, interdentals /ḏ/, /ṯ/ and /ḏ̣/ and the affricated reflex /ǧ/ for *j. Etymological *k has two realisations in Salti: /k/ and /č/ (see below). The vocalic system is the same as in most southern Levantine dialects. The three inherited short vowels were kept, and so are the three inherited long vowels; /ay/ and /aw/ monophtong- ise to /ē/ and /ō/, respectively. Vowel length is maintained in unstressed position: ṭarābīš́ (< ṭarbuš “fez”). Morphologically, one of the most striking features of Salti is the maintenance of gender distinction in the plural (see below). Traditional Salti is also conservative as far as verbal morphosyntax is concerned: although it shares the common Levantine innovation b- to 58 bruno herin and enam al-wer mark indicative mood, it lacks most of the preverbal particles found elsewhere such as ʿam (progressive aspect) and raḥ (future reference).7

The Affricate /č/ and Lexical Material

An affricated realisation of /k/ ([ʧ ]) is a salient feature of traditional Salti, although nowadays it appears mainly in the speech of older speakers. It occurs mostly in the vicinity of front vowels,8 as illustrated in the items below: /i/: činne “daughter-in-law” /ī/: bičīd “it vexes” /e/: birče “pool” /ē/: čēl “weight unit” /a/: azča “tastier” /ā/: mačān “place” The affrication of *k in front vowel contexts is widely documented for numerous—mostly nomadic—eastern Arabian dialects. Since Salt is on the fringe of two dialect areas, Levantine and Arabian, the affrication of *k is in no way an oddity.9 Although similarly to other dialects in which conditional affrication occurs mainly in front vowel environments, in Salti, affrication also appears in the vicinity of high back vowels, as in the following items: dyūč (plural of dīč “cock”) člūb (family name) harračū-na “they moved us” ma hačū-š “they didn’t talk” The affricate may have made its way into Salti primarily through the 2fs bound pronoun -ič. In most Levantine dialects, gender distinction in the 2nd person singular is signalled through a vocalic contrast between /a/

7 Extremely marginally, future reference may be expressed using rāyiḥ as an auxiliary: ana rāyih āǧi “I’ll come”. 8 The general perception that affrication is a salient feature of Salti may be a reflection of the fact that it is becoming obsolete. It is also noticeable that those members of the Salt community who no longer use the affricate variant in ordinary speech use it consciously as a symbol of solidarity in the appropriate contexts. In has acquired ‘an iconic status’, perhaps similarly to the status of [g] as a marker of Jordanian identity. 9 One explanation for the presence of affrication in the Horani dialects as a whole is contact with and settlement of nomadic tribes in the region. This issue however merits careful examination and is beyond the concerns of the present article. from phonological variation to grammatical change 59 and /i/; thus, ahl-ak “your (m) family” versus ahl-ik “your (f ) family”. In North Arabian dialects that have (conditional) affrication,10 the gender distinction is maintained through the contrast between /k/ and /č/, while the quality of the vowel is neutralised (towards [ə]); thus ahl-ək “your (m) family” vs. ahl-əč “your (f) family”. In Salti there is double marking of the gender distinction: vocalic alteration (as in Levantine) and affrication (as in North Arabian), e.g. ahl-ak “your (m) family” vs. ahl-ič “your (f) family”. The maintenance of the vocalic contrast alongside affrication in Salti suggests that the presence of affrication in Salti may have been a ‘borrowing’ (possibly from neighbouring Bedouin dialects) rather than an internal development. In other words, Salti acquired the affricate without levelling out the (Levantine) vocalic contrast. It may be suggested further that in Salti the affrication of *k in front contexts never became a phonetic rule; rather, the affricate realisation was introduced through borrowing affricated lexical items, and subsequently the affricate realisation was generalised to the derivations and inflections of the borrowed affricated items. This scenario would explain the reason that Salti has dīč ‘cock’, pl. dyūč “cocks” whereas neighbouring north-Arabian dialects have dīč pl. dyūk. This also accounts for the fact that the number of roots in which the affricate appears remains rather marginal in Salti compared to the nomadic varieties which have this type of affrication. It must be added however that the affricate did not systematically diffuse to all the derivations and inflections of certain roots. For instance, in the case of r-k-b “ride”—the verbal inflections exhibit the affricate (ričib “he rode”) but the affricate is not used in the verbal noun and the passive participle: rkūb (not *rčūb) and markūb (not *marčūb). Also, in h-r-k “move” /č/ surfaces in the verb harrač “he moved” but /k/ is maintained in the verbal noun haraka “motion”. A theory of ‘transfer of lexical items’ (rather than ‘systematic sound change’) would also explain the observation that /k/ and /č/ behave like independent phonemes in a few cases: rākib “passenger” versus rāčib “riding”, kēf “pleasure” versus čēf “how”, kān “he was” versus čān “if ”, kibir “he grew” versus čibər (the traditional men’s garment); and less satisfying ʾakkad “ensure” vs. waččad “remember”. In other words, the affricated items may have been borrowed in this shape and added to the native system (and thus creating minimal pairs instead of potential homophones). In sum, what may have happened is that exposure to and contact with dialects that have affrication triggered off the transfer

10 See Younes and Herin (forthcoming). 60 bruno herin and enam al-wer of individual lexical items (rather than the transfer of a phonetic rule), which introduced the affricate realisation in various roots, albeit incon- sistently. As mentioned earlier, the affricate /č/ mostly appears in the speech of the oldest, least mobile speakers. Other speakers replace it with /k/. Even in the speech of the former, the two variants may alternate in the same utterance. In (1) below, a very broad speaker of the dialect firstly realised the verb kammal “he finished” with the occlusive (1a) but with the affricate in the very next sentence (1b).11

1 a. xālid kammal əǧ-ǧāmʿa Khalid finish.PFV.3ms deF-university “Khalid finished university” b. mart muṣṭafa čammalat ǧāmʿa wife mustafa finish.PFV.3FS university “Mustafa’s wife finished university”

At the level of surface structure, the loss of the contrast between /k/ and /č/, as in the minimal pairs cited earlier, appears to lead to ambiguity but in actual fact the items belong to different lexical categories, leaving syntactical ambiguity impossible. This point can be demonstrated in examples 2a & 2b below.

2 a. kān min hōn la sahər sitte ma smiʿtī-š if from here to month six NEG hear.PFV.2FS-NEG min-hum ʾisi from-3MP thing “If you do not hear anything from them until June” b. abu kāyid kēf badd-o ysawwi l-ġada Abu Kayid how want-3MS do.SUBJ.3MS DEF-lunch “How will Abu Kayid prepare the lunch?”

In (2a), kān can only be interpreted as the conjunction “if ” and not the verbal form kān “he was”. In (2b), the interpretation of kēf as the noun “pleasure” simply makes no sense, leaving the interrogative “how” as the only possible option. It is thus clear that the loss of the affricate

11 Abbreviations used here are: DAT—Dative; DEF—Definite marker; DEM— Demonstrative; IMPFV—Imperfective; NEG—Negation; PFV—Perfective; SUBJ—Sub- junctive; VOC—Vocative. from phonological variation to grammatical change 61 and its replacement by /k/, at least in these examples, has no impact on the lexicon.

The Affricate /č/ and Grammatical Material

There is, however, one area of the grammar where the loss of the affricate may have an impact. It was noted above that the functional load of /č/ also extended to differentiate the masculine from the feminine of the 2nd singular bound pronouns: -ak vs -ič. When this suffix attaches to items ending in a vowel, it triggers lengthening of the final vowel, leaving the consonantal contrast alone as the only feature that carries the gender information, as illustrated in the following example: ahla u sahla bī-k “welcome to you (m)” vs. ahla u sahla bī-č “welcome to you (f )” In other Levantine dialects, gender distinction in this environment (after a vowel) is maintained by way of the allomorphs -k in the masculine and -ki in the feminine. In the dialect of Amman you get:12 ahla u sahla fī-k vs. ahla u sahla fī-ki. When a speaker wants to avoid the use of the affricate variant in the feminine, gender distinction in Salti is maintained through the recruitment of the common Levantine allomorph -ki: bawarrī-ki “I show you (f )” (show.IMPFV.1SG-2FS).13 A further context in which gender distinction is maintained through the contrast between /k/ and /č/ is when the 2nd person singular bound pronouns are attached to the negation marker -š. In 3a the masculine allomorph is -kī- and in 3b the feminine is -čī-.

3 a. hassaʿ maʿ-kī-š duxxān u-gāʿid əb-ǧalse zayy hēk now with-2MS-NEG smoke and-sitting in-meeting like so “Now (if ) you don’t have cigarettes and you are sitting in a gathering like this” b. inti yā xālt-i mniʿrif-čī-š 2Fs voc aunt-1SG know.IMPFV.1PL-2FS-NEG “We don’t know you my dear”

12 In the dialect of Amman, the preposition b- “in, with” cannot be augmented with bound pronouns, in which case fi will be used. In the traditional dialect of Salt, such a restriction does not exist. The reason is simply that Salti originally only has bi. 13 The allomorph -ki is made available to Salti speakers through contact with the dialect of Amman which has it. 62 bruno herin and enam al-wer

In other Levantine dialects in which the negation marker -š is available, the allomorph -kī- is usually restricted to the feminine. In the masculine, the pronoun remains the same or becomes -kā-, as in many dialects of northern Palestine: bidd-ak-š ~ bidd-kā-š “you (m) don’t want” vs biddik-š ~ bidd-kī-š) “you (f ) don’t want”. The traditional Salti pattern is quite uncommon cross-dialectally, as very few dialects show the same configu- ration: Palestinian varieties display the pattern shown above (bidd-ak-š ~ bidd-kā-š/bidd-kī-š ~ biddik-š) and north-Arabian nomadic dialects lack the negation marker -š. Interestingly, the Salti speakers who do not use the affricate /č/ or those who want to avoid it for pragmatic or sociolinguistic reasons simply replace /č/ by /k/, thus neutralising gender distinction. A sequence such as bidd-kī-š “you don’t want” is unmarked for gender and can be used both when addressing a man or a woman.14 The loss of the affricate therefore does lead to the loss of grammatical information in this case, and this is indeed the pattern generally found in the speech of Ammanis who (or whose parents) originally come from Salt (see ft. 12). To summarise so far, the loss of the affricate has little (or no) impact on the lexicon, as doublets belong to different lexical categories, leaving ambiguity impossible or extremely limited. At the level of morphology the loss of the affricate can lead to the loss of gender information. In such cases, the speakers either resort to alternative strategies to maintain gender distinction in the 2nd person singular, e.g. by borrowing allomorphs found in other varieties, or they simply neutralise gender (when the negation marker -š is suffixed). The loss of the affricate /č/ however has further structural impact at the level of syntax as will be explained presently.

Gender as an Inflectional Category

Table (1) below displays the bound plural pronouns found in the dialects of Salt, Amman (Al-Wer 2007) and Beirut (Naïm 2006).

14 This is the form that is also normally used in Amman by those who are of Jordanian descent (as opposed to Palestinian descent). The Palestinian forms can however also be found in the speech of young Ammanis generally. This feature of the Amman dialect is currently under investigation by Enam al-Wer. from phonological variation to grammatical change 63

Table 1. Bound plural pronouns in Levantine dialects Salt Amman Beirut 1PL -na 2MP -ku -kum -kun 2FP -čin 3MP -hum -hum -(h)un 3MP -hin

As can be seen, of the three dialects only the dialect of Salt maintains gender distinction in the 2pl and 3pl. The Salti forms are illustrated in examples (4a)–(4d) below.

4 a. intu kull-ku mlāḥ 2MP all-2MP nice.PL “You are all nice” b. badd-čin tǧībil-li miyye want-2FP bring.SUBJ.2FP-DAT.1SG hundred “You should bring me one hundred (of these)” c. ǧīzitt-(h)um kānat miš maḏ̣būṭa marriage-3MP be.PFV.3Fs neg right “Their marriage was not right” d. abū-hin fōg ər-rīḥ father-3FP above deF-air “Their father is very rich”

Gender distinction in the plural is an inflectional category and as such its use extends to other classes such as free pronouns, verbs, nouns and adjectives, as illustrated in Table (2).

Table 2. Gender as an inflectional category in the plural Gender Person Free Verbs Nouns- pronouns Adjectives Imperfective Perfective

Masculine 2nd intu t- . . . -u -tu -īn 3rd hummu y- . . . -u -u Feminine 2nd intin t- . . . -in -tin 3rd hinne y- . . . -in -in -āt 64 bruno herin and enam al-wer

The Salti pattern as displayed above is shared by all the indigenous dialects of Jordan. It is also commonly found in the conservative rural varieties of Palestine (in different phonetic forms). The bound plural pronouns in Salti (three stages, see below) and Ammani are displayed in Table (3). A difference can be readily noticed between Salti and Ammani in the 2MP form, which has a final /m/ in Ammani -kum, but not in Salti -ku.15 The traditional Salti system (Salt I) is currently only used by the older and largely immobile speakers in Salt.16 Assuming that the Salti system is changing in the direction of the system found in the dialect of Amman, the leap, so to speak, from traditional Salti to Ammani does not happen at once. Our analysis shows that there are two intermediate sub-systems, Salt II and Salt III (Table 3). Table 3. Bound plural pronouns in Salt and Amman Traditional Intermediate Koineised Amman Salt (I) Salt (II) Salt (III) 2MP -ku -ku -ku -kum 2FP -čin 3MP -hum -hum 3FP -hin -hin -hum -hum

As maintained above, Salt (I) represents the system used by the broadest speakers who maintain gender distinction in all cases. These are for the most part the oldest and least mobile speakers. Other speakers use the system represented by Salt (II), in which gender distinction is neutralised in the 2nd plural, but maintained in the 3rd plural. The intermediate system (Salt II) can be illustrated by example (5a) below. Addressing two women (Randa and Rana), the informant in this extract asks them if they wanted to join him and his family for dinner with another guest (5a).

5 a. randa u-rāna btiǧū-š titġaddu maʿ-o randa and-Rana come.IMPFV.2MP-NEG dinner.SUBJ.2MP with-3MS “Randa and Rana, won’t you come and have dinner with him?”

15 According to Al-Wer’s (2003) analysis of this feature, Ammani final /m/ in -kum is a contact-induced innovation, which may have come about in part through a process of analogy with the 3MP bound pronoun -hum. 16 According to Al-Wer (2003) the Salti speakers who live in Amman increasingly adopt the Ammani forms. from phonological variation to grammatical change 65

Had the traditional Salti pattern been respected in (5a) btiǧū-s titġaddu would have been rendered btiǧinn-əs titġaddin “won’t you (fp) come and have dinner”. The same speaker has otherwise kept gender distinction in the 3rd person, as demonstrated in (5b).

5 b. ṭabʿan ən-niswān buṭubxin hinne naturally deF-women cook.IMPFV.3FP 3FP “Of course, it is the women who do the cooking (not the men)”

The most innovative speakers have Salt (III), where gender distinction is neutralised everywhere. The only thing that sets it apart from Amman is the absence of final /m/ in the 2nd person. The younger and more mobile speakers in Salt are in regular contact with speakers of the Amman dialect and many of them are daily com- muters to the capital city. It is therefore possible that contact with the Ammani dialect is what triggered the change attested in the traditional Salti forms. That features of the dialect of Amman represent target linguistic features for the younger speakers can be evidenced by the fact that other traditional Salti features may also be changing in the direction of Ammani features, e.g. interdental to stop, [g] to [ʔ] and [ʤ] to [ʒ].17 It is therefore not at all unlikely for the loss of gender distinction in the 2nd and 3rd plural pronouns to have been precipitated or accelerated through contact with the Ammani dialect. In addition to the external influence, in the form of frequent contact with speakers of the Amman dialect, there are internal factors which motivate the loss of gender distinction in the case of the 2nd pl pronouns. The first factor pertains to the form of the 2fp bound pronoun -čin. It was noted above that the affricate /č/ is no longer used by the vast majority of the younger speakers in Salt, and instead it is replaced by /k/. Interestingly however, the change from /č/ to /k/ affects the pronoun -čin differently in that the data contain no instances of a de-palatalised -kin form. In other words, the loss of the affricate realisation of /k/ seems to have triggered the loss of the pronoun -čin altogether. The second factor concerns the relative low frequency of occurrence of the 2fp pronoun compared with the frequency of occurrence of the 2mp. The 2fp can only be used when addressing a group of women, whereas the 2mp is used when addressing

17 For details concerning these variables in Salt and Amman see Al-Wer (1991) and Al- Wer & Herin (2011). 66 bruno herin and enam al-wer a mixed group, in addition to addressing a group of men. Frequency of occurrence may influence the survival or disappearance of these forms in two ways: (i) over time children will be exposed to the feminine form less frequently, which naturally privileges the masculine form; (ii) pragmati- cally, the cost of losing the 2fp is relatively marginal since it is obligatorily used only in one of the three possible settings, namely an all-female group.18 We suggest that a combination of all of these factors (the external sociolinguistic pressure or motivation and the internal factors) provide a plausible explanation of the loss of gender distinction in the 2nd plural pronouns. As can be seen in Table 3, the gender distinction in the 2nd plural pronouns is lost in stage II, but the loss of gender distinction in the 3rd plural pronouns does not happen until stage III. We propose that this difference in the behaviour of the 2nd and 3rd plural pronouns is connected with the role of the 3rd plural feminine as an inflectional category in the system of agreement in Salti, as will be explained in the final section.

Agreement in Salti

There is a wealth of literature on agreement in Arabic that deals for the most part with the standard variety and tries to account for the two main agreement patterns in standard Arabic: (i) singular agreement on verbs in verb-initial clauses with plural subjects; and (ii) feminine singular agreement with non-human plural subjects. Spoken Arabic displays a different pattern. The most recent and in-depth treatment of agreement in spoken Arabic is Brustad (2000) where agreement patterns in four Arabic dialects are investigated: Moroccan, Egyptian, Syrian and Kuwaiti. In short, Brustad (2000) concludes that cross-dialectally agreement is sensitive to ‘individuation’. Individuation is used as a cover term which signifies notions of ‘agency’, ‘definiteness’, ‘specificity’, ‘textual and physical prominence’, ‘qualification’ and ‘quantification’ (Brustad 2000: 24). Brustad’s main thesis is that the more an item is individuated, the more likely it is to trigger plural agreement. Items scoring low on the individuation scale will most typically trigger singular feminine agreement. One commonality

18 We are aware of the conceptual problems associated with the Functionalist explanations of language change as argued by Lass (1980, ch. 3). Here we are strictly talking about ‘frequency of occurrence’ rather than ‘functional load’ as defined for instance by King (1967). from phonological variation to grammatical change 67 shared by the dialects investigated is that none of them exhibits gender distinction in the plural. There are thus two possible agreements: feminine singular and (unmarked for gender) plural. How do dialects such as Salti that have at their disposal an additional possibility—feminine plural— behave? The data we have from Salti reveal that the individuation tool works best with nouns denoting human groups. A striking example is the noun nās “people” that can trigger masculine singular (6a), feminine singular (6b) and masculine plural (6c) agreements.

6 a. miš əmlāgi nās yugʿud bī-ha neg finding people sit.SUBJ.3MS in-3FS “He can’t find anyone to stay in it” b. hawāla l-balad ən-nās titgannaṣ around deF-village deF-people hunt.SUBJ.3FS “People would hunt around the village” c. yitġaddu ha-n-nās w-yrūhu have.lunch.SUBJ.3pl dem-DEF-people and-go.SUBJ.3PL “These people would have lunch and then leave”

Feminine singular and plural agreements on nouns denoting human groups are attested in many varieties of Arabic. In Brustad’s terms, in (6b) feminine agreement is triggered because in the speaker’s mind the entity is low on the individuation scale as he pictures “the people” as an uncount- able mass. In (6c), the noun nās triggers plural agreement because it refers to an entity that has already been introduced into the discourse, giving it a higher textual prominence. What is peculiar to Salti though is the masculine singular agreement exhibited in (6a) in which nās is the subject of yugʿud, 3rd person masculine singular of gaʿad “he sat”. Such an agreement is extremely frequent in traditional Salti and surfaces only when nās is indefinite.19 Examples (6b) and (6c) fit pretty well into Brustad’s theory of individuation, but examples such as (6a) seem to suggest that in Salti there is an even lower category on the individuation scale and this category triggers masculine singular agreement: MS < FS < PL.

19 In this case, it is best interpreted as a functional equivalent of the common Levantine indefinite pronoun hada “someone” or “anyone”. The term hada can be heard in Salt but its occurrence seems to be confined to the speech of the younger and more innovative speakers. Our corpus contains no instances of hada in the speech of the oldest and most conservative speakers. The data from the broad speakers however does contain tokens of mahada “no one” in subject position and nās in other syntactic positions. These speakers also have mā nās and mā wāhad. 68 bruno herin and enam al-wer

As far as agreement with non-human entities is concerned, the data from Salt exhibit a wide range of possibilities. With count nouns, agreement in the feminine plural is always selected (nouns marked for dual always trigger plural agreement). This is exemplified in (8a), where a broad speaker of the dialect uses the bound pronoun -hin, i.e. feminine plural agreement to refer to the two dishes ‘falafel’ and ‘hummus’. In 8(a) the speaker is protesting that ‘falafel’ and ‘hummus’ are replacing traditional Jordanian snacks. The mere sight of ‘falafel’ and ‘hummus’ disgusts her, she proclaims.20

8 a. bī ha-l-falāfil u-ha-l-hummuṣ there.is dem-DEF-falafel and-DEM-DEF-hummus ən-nās əbturkuḏ̣ ʿalē-hin deF-people run.IMPFV.3FS on-3FP waḷḷa bagasʿir min šōf-hin by.God be.disgusted.IMPFV.1SG from sight-3FP “There is these falafel and hummus, people rush to buy them. To be honest the sight of them (falafel and hummus) disgusts me”

Nouns denoting animals also trigger feminine plural agreement, as illustrated in (8b).

8 b. əl-hayāya b-ən-nhār biṭlaʿinn-əš min ḥamm əl-ʾarḏ̣ deF-snakes in-DEF-day leave.IMPFV.3FP-NEG from heat deF-earth “Snakes don’t come out during daylight because of the heat of the earth”

Finally, the feminine plural agreement is also used in the contexts pre- dicted by the individuation theory (low on the individuation scale). In (8c) the noun ḏ̣rūf, plural of ḏ̣arf “circumstance” triggers the use of the feminine plural morpheme -āt on hākim, the active participle of the verb hakam “he judged”.

8 c. əḏ̣-ḏ̣rūf hākm-ātt-(h)a21 deF-circumstances having.judged-FP-3FS “Circumstances rule her life”

20 ‘Falafel’ and ‘hummus’ are locally associated with the Egyptian cuisine. In the Jorda- nian cuisine traditional snacks consist of vegetable, cheese or meat pies. 21 The underlying form is hākim-āt-ha, in which /i/ drops in unstressed position, and /h/ assimilates to the preceding /t/. The surface form becomes then hākmātta. from phonological variation to grammatical change 69 ḏ̣rūf in 8(c) scores very low on the individuation scale because it is used here to refer to unspecified general circumstances. The examples cited above show that in the traditional dialect of Salt the feminine plural has multiple usages. It is selected with all kinds of nouns, whether highly individuated or not. There are signs however that the system found in the traditional dialect is not adhered to totally by the younger and innovative speakers. In some cases, the speakers abandon the traditional pattern altogether and instead use the feminine singular (rather than the plural) to refer to non-human nouns (9a) and to human entities (9b), whether specified or not.

9 a. ʿarabiyyāt tǧurr-ha l-xēl wagons pull.IMPFV.3FS-3Fs deF-horses “Wagons pulled by horses” b. bagīt əl-ʿasāyir əssawwī-lo ʾakəl rest deF-clans make.IMPFV.3FS-DAT.3MS food “The other clans would make food for him”

In other cases a mixture of the traditional pattern (with plural feminine) and an innovative pattern (with singular feminine) are used within the same sentence. An interesting example comes from the speech of a 40-year old man from Salt who works as a lawyer in Amman. In this example, he describes the traditional farmhouse in Salt, which usually consists of one or more rooms built of stone and mud.22 One way of referring to the farmhouse in Salti is əd-dūr əl-fallāhiyyāt “rural houses”, where dūr, plural of dār “house”, triggers feminine plural agreement -āt (suffixed to the adjective fallāhi “rural”). In the speech of younger speakers this phrase may be attested as əd-dūr əl-fallāhiyye with the feminine singular agreement -e. In the case of this particular informant, the phrase əd-dūr əl-fallāhiyyāt, thus complying with traditional Salti, was used a number of times. However, within the same discourse and to describe this type of houses he used the adjective gadīme “old” (with feminine singular -e): əd-dūr əl-fallāhiyyāt əl-gadīme “the old rural houses”; and the participle mabniyyāt (with feminine plural -āt). The linear arrangement thus appeared as follows (10):

22 An older term to refer to the simple house constructed on vineyards where Salt people normally spent summer months especially during harvest times is gaṣǝr palace. 70 bruno herin and enam al-wer

10 əd-dūr əl-fallāhiyyāt əl-gadīme . . . mabniyyāt min əṭ-ṭīn deF-houses deF-rural.Fp deF-old.FS build.FP from deF-clay w-əl-haǧar and-DEF-rock “The old rural houses (were) built with mud and stone”

Example (10) suggests that in modern Salti two systems are operative: (i) the traditional system which selects feminine plural agreement with items low on the individuation scale; and (ii) an innovative system which selects the singular feminine in the case of such items (similarly to many other dialects in the region). Another innovation found in our data is the replacement of the feminine plural by the masculine plural. This is marginal in the Salti corpus but it shows that some speakers are slipping from Salt (II) to Salt (III). In (11a), the speaker selected the masculine plural bound pronoun -hum to cross-reference xēl “horses”, whereas it was shown above that conservative speakers favour feminine plural marking with nouns denoting animals (see (8b). The same thing was recorded in (11b), where the speaker chose masculine plural on the verb yuẓbuṭu, instead of feminine plural yuẓbuṭin.

11 a. yiṭʿamu l-xēl w-ynayymū-hum feed.SUBJ.3mp deF-horses and-put.to.sleep.SUBJ.3MP-3MP “They used to feed the horses and let them sleep” b. ṯalāṯ muwāṣafāt mā yuẓbuṭu maʿ baʿḏ̣ three standards neg fit.SUBJ.3MP with each.other “Three standards that wouldn’t fit together”

Similar observations with respect to the mixing of two systems (plural feminine and singular feminine with non-human nouns) were noted in Owens & Bani-Yasin (1987) in their investigation of a northern Jordanian dialect. They maintain that in the dialect they investigated, plural nouns denoting non-human entities may trigger two agreements: feminine singular and feminine plural. They maintain that in this dialect, the plural feminine agreement represents the older traditional pattern, and they attribute the introduction of the singular feminine agreement to the influence of standard Arabic. According to Owens & Bani-Yasin, when speakers resort to the use of standard items they borrow the feminine singular agreement rule with the borrowed lexemes. This explains why the use of the feminine singular agreement in their data was limited to plural nouns that did not belong to the spoken variety. In essence, the obser- from phonological variation to grammatical change 71 vations made by Owens & Bani-Yasin are valid for Salti: plural feminine agreement represents the old, native pattern and the appearance of the singular feminine singular is an innovation. As noted by Brustad (2000) the singular feminine agreement is widely attested in different dialects of Arabic and its selection is triggered by semantic-pragmatic factors such as individuation. In the case of Salti, the source of the variation attested in our data is likely to be the dialect of Amman which, similarly to the dialects covered by Brustad, lacks the plural feminine as an inflectional category, selects the unmarked plural with highly individuated items and the singular feminine with items low on the individuation scale. Innova- tive speakers from Salt resort to the use of two grammars: the traditional Salt grammar (plural feminine agreement with all plural nouns), and the Ammani grammar in which the singular feminine is favoured with nouns scoring low on the individuation scale, and (unmarked) plural with highly individuated nouns. It therefore appears that while the loss of the 2fp has a limited impact on the grammar of Salti (as explained in previous sections) the loss of the 3fp on the other hand provokes a restructuring of core grammatical areas such as agreement, which may explain the delay in the loss of the 3fp in Salti.

Summary and Conclusion

This article investigated the impact of phonological change on grammar. It was shown that the loss of a phoneme, affricate /č/, and its replacement by another, velar /k/, had little impact on the lexicon because the minimal pairs involved belong for the most part to different word classes, rendering ambiguity almost impossible. The alternation between /k/ and /č/ also functions as a morphological contrast between the 2ms and 2fs bound pronouns; to maintain this contrast morphologically it was shown that speakers resort to borrowing of allomorphs from other varieties. This strategy, however, has its limits and does not prevent the morphological contrast from disappearing in specific contexts. The loss of /č/ however has a deeper grammatical impact in that it seems to have led to the modification of agreement patterns. The general direction of change in Salti is towards Ammani, the primary contact variety of the dialect of Salt. Since Ammani lacks feminine plural, it is expected that Salti will lose this feature. This is indeed what is happening, as evidenced by the speech of the most innovative speakers. Convergence to the Ammani pattern however 72 bruno herin and enam al-wer does not happen at once and there are intermediary stages. These stages are motivated internally by the existence of strong constraints preventing the collapse of the feminine plural altogether. The first development is represented by the fall of the 2nd person feminine plural. Such a loss does not provoke a deep change in the grammar and is limited to morphological markers of the 2fp. The loss of the 3rd person feminine plural is pro- visionally prevented because of its relatively high functional load in the traditional dialect (compared with the 2fp). As noted, the feminine plural agreement is used with animate feminine nouns as well as inanimate nouns (masculine and feminine). The system found in Salti faces competi- tion from the pattern found in the Amman dialect (as well as many other Arabic dialects). In Ammani, the singular feminine agreement is selected with nouns low in individuation, whereas the plural is selected with nouns scoring high on the individuation scale. The Ammani system is making its way into Salti and coexists in the speech of innovative speakers with the old pattern. The total adoption of the Ammani system will lead to the loss of the plural feminine as an inflectional category altogether. This is how the loss of a marginal phoneme may contribute to the restructuring of a core grammatical area.

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Representation of Women’s Language in Negev Bedouin Men’s Texts

Roni Henkin

Folk Belief and Academic Reference to Women’s Language

Folk belief across diverse cultures maintains that women talk more than men, as noted in sayings as old as Mishnaic Hebrew ‘Ten measures of speech came down to the world; nine were taken by women and one by the remainder of the world’ (Qidushin 49) and western ‘Foxes are all tail and women are all tongue’, ‘Ou femme y a, silence n’y a’ (Coates 1986: 16). Qualitative evaluation of women’s speech in intellectual, academic writing is often pejorative: in Samuel Johnson’s 1755 dictionary ‘frightful’ is noted as ‘women’s cant’; Jespersen (1922 Ch. 13) claims that women are linguistically less creative than men; their lexicon more limited, their syntax simpler and more paratactic than men’s, their sentences more often unfinished, as they do not think the sentence out before beginning to speak. Exclamations typical of women include ‘O dear!’ ‘Dear me!’ ‘Goodness gracious me!’ for the more masculine ‘Great Scott!’ ( Jespersen 1922: 247). Some of these features are repeated in R. Lakoff’s (1975) monograph on women’s language. She also attributes excessive hedging, tag questions, politeness, euphemisms, and a general lack of assertiveness to women’s language, as well as the hyperbolic adverb ‘so’ and empty adjectives, such as ‘divine’, ‘charming’, ‘sweet’, ‘adorable’, ‘cute’. Research on women’s language in Arabic includes Rosenhouse 1995, 1998; Bedouin women’s narrative styles have been studied by Henkin (2000, 2001, 2002, 2010 Ch. 9.2) and Bettini 2006. The present article tack- les women’s speech from a different angle, namely as perceived by men. It is based on my Negev Arabic corpus of over 200 recorded texts of diverse genres. I focus here on oral narrative and personal stories.

1. Negev Bedouin Women’s Language

Most of the Negev Bedouin women above the age of 45 are illiterate (NBSDB: 169). This accounts for several phenomena in the discourse of 76 roni henkin elderly women, including folk neologisms and meta-analysis of literary formulas, such as Aḷḷāh wakbaṛ literally ‘God and greatest’ for the normative Aḷḷāhu akbaṛ ‘God is greatest’ and Aḷḷāhu mṣalliy ʿala sayyidna Mḥaṃṃad ‘God has prayed for our Lord Muḥammad’ for the normative form Aḷḷāhumma1 ṣalliy ʿala sayyidna Mḥaṃṃad ‘God pray for our Lord Muḥammad’ (Henkin 2010 9.2.4). This feature of women’s language is typical of the older generation. Nowadays, it is less common, since literacy is the norm, although the drop out rate from school is still twice as high as the national rate (NBSDB: 152). A prominent characteristic of Negev Arabic women’s speech styles is emotionality. This is expressed by a predominance of several linguistic traits.

(i) diminutives:2 ṯwēb (<ṯōb) ‘dress’; bwīt (

None of these items were found in the men’s texts of my corpus.3 I have no doubt that they occur in men’s speech too, but to a lesser degree. Women’s discourse is characterised by repetition and predominance of these items as well as affectionate addressives, such as ya ḥbayybīh ‘O my deardim’; ya wlīdīh ‘O my sondim’; ya bnayytīh ‘O my daughterdim’ and women’s topics, such as nurturing children. Textual analysis shows that this predominance results in saturated environments (Weizman 1997) typical of women’s texts, which I show in several textual examples in

1 The literary vocative ending -umma is reanalyzed as the participial prefix m-, which turns the original imperative verb into a dialectal participle. 2 I exclude lexicalized diminutives that are standard items in Negev Arabic, such as ṣġayyir (< ṣġīr~zġīr) ‘small’ and ḥṛayyim (<ḥirīm ‘women’)—their ‘basic’ non-diminutive variants are rare. When marked, diminutives in this article are followed by the subscript abbreviation dim. 3 In contrast, some were frequent in the women’s texts, e.g. ḏ̣ʿayyfīn (33 occurrences). representation of women’s language in negev bedouin 77

Henkin 2010 9.2. I believe that this saturation, rather than any of the items themselves, is typical of women’s texts. In demonstrating this, I restrict the samples to neutral discourse, where emotive elements are not expected, and I distinguish conversational discourse (including descriptions of life in the past) from narrative (recounting a series of events).

1.1 Conversational Discourse A female student interviews her elderly relative from the ʿAzāzmih tribe, asking about life in the past. The following short extract from the old woman’s description contains ten diminutives (in bold):

[1] widdih . . . iyʿayyš -iḏʿayyfīniḥ dim ya-wlīdīhdim. āh. ibyawṭuw ʿ-al-ḥmāṛ . . . wiyjībuw alliy iyjībūh l-aḏ̣-ḏʿayyfīṇ dim, iḥbēbdim ʿād kān biykayyluw an-nās iḥbēbdim. yom mā ʿindih šiy, yōm mā ʿindih zarʿ uyaḥáṣd minnih, biykayyl- iḥbēbdim . . . uminnih taṭḥanah witʿaššiy iḏʿayyfīnhạ dim . . ., ilamma minʿāš iyjiy ál-maṭar . . . uminnih iygūm yaḥarṯuw ilhum intēftdim-zṛayʿihdim, uminnih iybaḏḏrūha b-al-ḥbēbdim

He (the average Negev Bedouin) wants . . . to feed his kidsdim, my child- dim. Yes, they used to go to town on a donkey . . . and bring whatever they would bring to the kidsdim, graindim. People used to have graindim weighed out for them. When he had nothing, when he had no plot of land to reap from, he would have graindim weighed out to him . . . and then she would grind it and feed her kidsdim, until the following year when the rain would come . . . and then they would plough them a bit- dim of landdim, and then they would scatter it over with seedsdim A male student (MṢ) interviews an old woman (XṢ) about life in the past. His questions set the register as neutral with regard to emotionality, whereas her answers contain lexical items that originate as emotional exclamations of grief (in bold): [2] mṢ: alḥīn, kān al-bīt, bīt áš-šaʿaṛ iwhāḏa, kīf biysawwūh? xṢ: yō, ya ḥasirtīh, bnaġázlih, ġazl ʿ-adǟnna . . . mṢ: Now the tent, the tent and all the rest, how did they make it? xṢ: Yō, O my sorrow, we would spin (and weave) it, spin with our own hands. [3] mṢ: iwkān fa-wagt al-ḥiṣīdih . . . kīf ibtaḥaṣduw? xṢ: waḷḷah ya wēliy ʿilīna, ibnaḥáṣid iwbinjuṛṛ iwbinḏarriy mṢ: And at harvest time . . . how did you reap? xṢ: waḷḷah, O my woe upon us, we would reap and drag it and winnow. 78 roni henkin

1.2 Narrative Discourse In women’s narrative texts, too, both the narrative plotline and the dialogue are often saturated with emotional language. The following is an extract from an old Naṣāṣrah woman’s anecdote about a fellow tribes- woman’s encounter with a British patrol guard on a motor cycle back in the 1940s. [4] iṯrīt az-zalámah, yā ḥaṛām, kull yōm biymurr min hniyyāntiy. uhēḏī bitgūl mīhī šǟyiftih, tgūl awwal maṛṛah biymurr. lamman šāfatah gālat: “hāḏ̣a4 widdih-yyānī. dawwaṛnī yā xaṛāb bētī!” uṭārat yā ḥawl illǟh, ukādhiy nkasaṛat f-al-jbǟl, yā ḥaṛām. apparently the fellow, O shame, would pass by from here every day. But she said she’d never seen him before, she said that was the first time he’d come by. When she saw him she said: “This man’s after me. He’s out for me, O ruin of my home!” And she leapt off, O God’s strength. And she almost crashed into the mountains, O shame.

2. Portrayal of Women’s Language in Negev Bedouin Men’s Texts

The distinction made above between ordinary conversational discourse and traditional oral narrative is crucial in the case of women’s speech as portrayed in Negev Bedouin men’s texts. Different functions are involved when men quote women in these two major genres. Speech is quoted in one of two techniques, namely indirect speech and direct speech. Indirect speech strives to reproduce just the content of a speech event, not its form. Direct speech is supposed to reproduce both the content and the form. In practice, however, it is often not an accurate reproduction, especially if the quoted segment is long. While major content words tend to be retained, minor function words may be replaced by others; the less content an element carries, the lesser are its chances of retention. Pragmatic elements, such as exclamations, vocatives, and emotive particles that carry no referential content are often elided, as are supra-segmental and dialectal features. Marked variants may be replaced by unmarked or default forms. Markers of women’s style in NA, such as non-lexicalised diminutives (cf. note 2), exclamations, and emotional addressives, are precisely the

4 The demonstrative masculine and plural pronouns (hāḏa with its near, far, and plural variants) are predominantly velarized in Negev Arabic, as frequently in neighboring Bed- ouin dialects (Shawarbah 2012: 113 ff.). representation of women’s language in negev bedouin 79 variants that are most prone to omission in quoting, since they carry no referential information—their only function is pragmatic. Therefore, imitation of these normally non-quoted markers of women’s speech serves pragmatic ends.

2.1 Conversational Discourse In ordinary conversational discourse, imitation of women’s speech may serve as a pragmatic means for criticism and mocking. Inferiority of women is symbolised by marking their speech as irregular with regard to the unmarked men’s style. Depending on the male speaker’s attitude to the feminine character or to the content of the discourse cited that he is representing, we find the representation more or less saturated with pro- totypical, even stereotypical, markers of emotionality, as well as speech verbs that are emotional. In the following example, a man criticises the former tradition of elegizing by women (notably, today, under Islamic pressure, Negev women are no longer allowed to accompany the funeral procession). In this strongly critical description, elements of women’s speech and verbs of speech associated with women’s production are bolded:

[5] wibtaṛkab maṛátih maʿáh, iḏḏ̣ allhiỵ tibkiy aw iṣṣayyiḥ: “ya lōʿtiy!” iwḥājāt záy-kiḏiy alliy kalamāt alyōm hīḏiy . . . f-ad-dīn miš yaʿniy maḏkūṛah. and his wife would ride with him, crying or wailing incessantly: “O my anguish!” and things like that, words that today . . . are not to be mentioned by religion. [Henkin 2010 5/2a] Several elements culminate to portray excessive quantity and negative quality of both the mourning wife’s speech and its production process: the first is an auxiliary verb of iterativity iḏ̣ḏ̣allhiy ‘she keeps on’ to portray persistence; this is corroborated by the phrase iwḥājāt záy-kiḏiy ‘and things like that’. Two verbs of vocal production are likewise negative: tibkiy ‘she cries’ and iṣṣayyiḥ ‘she wails’. Of the implied stream of speech the item selected to quote is a marked feminine exclamation of grief: “ya lōʿtiy! ” “O my anguish!”. Finally, just in case the negative message has not been decoded, the narrator formulates his own explicit criticism: kalamāt alyōm hīḏiy . . . f-ad-dīn miš yaʿniy maḏkūṛah ‘words that today . . . are not to be mentioned by religion’. Moreover, this saturated environment is followed by an independent, fairly long story to demonstrate how undesirable the practice of elegizing is. In the course of the story the narrator explicitly states: án-nʿiy múhuw zīn ‘elegizing is not good’. 80 roni henkin

In the next example, a man describes what he considers to be a typically feminine over-reaction by his female neighbor to the theft of her goats. [6] wlād Ḥilīmih aṣ-ṣġār anxaláʿaw mn-iṣrāxha, whī tnǟdiy witnūḥ f-al- lēl ʿa-smǟʿ algirīb wal-ġirīb: “yā lēlih sawdíy ʿa-mʿayzǟydim, yā wēlīh ḥalālīh masṛūgāt! b-jāh māni bintih mā xuntih yijʿalah yalgāha mā iytawaggāha alliy saṛaghin, Aḷḷah iyḥirrih ʿa-ġālīh!” Ḥilīmih’s small children were frightened by her screams, as she called and wailed at night for the far and near to hear: “O black night for my goatsdim, O my woe, my livestock are stolen! By virtue of my being His daughter who did not betray Him, may He make him meet it [his fate] and not be protected from it, he who stole them, may God hurt him at what is dear to him!” Again we find negative verbs and verbal nouns of speech that portray the woman’s reaction as hysterical: ṣrāxha ‘her screams’, whī tnǟdiy witnūḥ ‘as she called and wailed’; this is corroborated by a formulaic adverbial of rhyming hendiadys that implies extremely loud wailing: ʿa-smǟʿ al-girīb wal-ġirīb ‘for the far and near to hear’. The woman is portrayed as incon- siderate enough to scare her own little children wlād Ḥilīmih aṣ-ṣġār anxaláʿaw ‘Ḥilīmih’s small children were frightened’. Again, the quote contains two distinctly feminine exclamations of woe yā lēlih sawdíy ‘O black night’ and yā wēlīh ‘O my woe’; there is also an endearing diminutive noun mʿayzǟydim (

B: āh. mantiy kull an-nahāṛ: “hāḏ̣a lak, ya jiddih. kul ya ḥbayybīhdim”. ajgamtiy al-ʿayyil lamma ṣār mā btifrig maʿáh jiddih wala ʿammih. sure, because all day long you keep going: “This is for you, grandson. Eat up, my darlingdim”. You’ve ‘dented’ the kid till he can’t tell a grandmother from an aunt. representation of women’s language in negev bedouin 81

Several markers of feminine speech accumulate along with negative attitude markers. These include the rhetorical particle mantiy ‘Sure, because you . . .’ for positing the negative state of affairs as a direct result of the woman’s behavior and an adverbial of iterativity ‘all day long’. This is followed by an imitation of women’s speech, portrayed as repetitive by syntactic repetition of affectionate addressives in sentence final position: . . ., ya jiddih; . . . ., ya ḥbayybīh ‘O grandson. ‘O, my darlingdim.’ The first of these addressives is a reversed kin term, which is standard in Negev Arabic, as in many other Arabic dialects: a grandmother addresses a grandchild as ya jiddih literally ‘O grandmother’ (Henkin 2010); the second is an endearing diminutive form: ya ḥbayybīh ‘O my darlingdim’. The content of the quote is, not surprisingly, the stereotypical content of women’s speech, giving and nurturing, prompting kids to eat. Finally, explicit criticism is formulated to ensure correct decoding: ‘You’ve ‘dented’ the kid till he can’t tell a grandmother from an aunt’. In the following example, a father complains that his son no longer obeys him, as the child’s grandmother does his chores for him: [8] gult l-Aḥmad yʿaššiy ál-ġanaṃ bass al-ʿujūz mdalliʿtih walbāriḥ saʿaltih5 gāḷ: “aṃṃīh ṛayyaḥatnīh”. xaṛṛabat ʿayylīh whī dābha: “ya wlīdīhdim, taṛayyaḥ. smaḷḷah ʿilēk, ya wlīdīhdim!” i told Aḥmad to feed the sheep but the old woman pampers him and yesterday when I asked him he said: “My mother let me off ”.6 She has spoiled my child saying all the time: “My sondim, take a rest. Bless you, my sondim!” This time the father starts with an explicit disparaging of al-ʿujūz ‘the old woman’. Her handling of the child is described with two negative verbs in escalating denotation of irreversible ruin: dallaʿ ‘pamper’ set in the resul- tative perfect as a complete state, and xaṛṛab ‘spoil, destroy’ in the complete perfect tense. The boy is described as his father’s alone, so that the mother/ grandmother’s right to educate him is challenged. Her speech is presented, again, as iterative and persistent, by means of the adverbial dāb ‘always, consistently’ and repetition of the vocative. Markers of feminine speech include the repeated diminutive, endearing kinship addres- sive, ya wlīdīhdim and the blessing smaḷḷah ʿilēk, literally ‘God’s name be

5 In this verb, as in several other cases in Negev Arabic, the glottal stop has shifted to ʿayn (Shawarbah 2012: 39 ff.). 6 This particular boy, whose mother is seriously ill, is raised by his grandmother, and calls her ‘mother’. 82 roni henkin on you’. The content, letting the child rest, is itself stereotypical feminine in topic. If the woman cited happens to be non-native, as is often the case due to the marriage norms which encourage marrying a second wife from outside the Negev, her dialect may also be imitated. The next example contains a mocking imitation of a wife from Gaza. Again, her husband is annoyed with her lack of demands from the children.This time it is in the issue of homework, which the mother thinks need not be done at night (given that there is no electricity in the household):

[9] xaṛṛabat aḏ̣-ḏ̣ʿūf whī kull an-nahāṛ: “yaṃṃa mālak? rūḥ yaṃṃa jīb lī . . . nām yaṃṃa inšaḷḷah mā-ḥad itʿallam!” she has spoiled the children [saying] all day: “Son, what’s up with you? Go, son, bring me . . . Go to sleep, son, let no one study [in the evening].” The opening is an explicit condemnation of the mother’s educational poli- cies, which have totally spoiled the kids. Her speech is presented as persistent by the adverbial ‘all day’ and its repeated kinship vocatives. The reversed kinship term yaṃṃa, literally ‘O mother’ is a sedentary variant of Negev Arabic yuṃṃa. Other non-native lexical items are mālak ‘what’s up with you?’ for Negev Arabic ʿalāmak and rūḥ ‘go’ for Negev Arabic imšiy or gōṭar (among others), lī ‘to me’ for Negev Arabic lay, and itʿallam ‘study’ for Negev Arabic yataʿallam. The content, too, is marked feminine: insistence that the child should go to bed, and the statement that no one should have to study at night. The same wife is criticized by her husband for what he considers irrational reaction upon her seeing a snake. Instead of helping the children get out of the way, she screams: [10] intiy bdāl-ma tsāʿdīhum yušurduw dābkiy: “yaṃṃa yā xībtiy!” instead of helping them run away all you do is (scream): “Mummy, O my frustration!” The woman’s reaction is depicted as repetitive by means of the adverbial dābkiy, and as irrational, hysterical, and egocentric—focused only on her own frustration. Her dialect is again mimicked, with yaṃṃa for Negev Arabic yuṃṃa and yā xībtiy with a sedentary penultimate stress—in the local dialect this lexeme is stressed on the ultima suffix xībtīh. In sum, imitation of women in men’s conversational discourse serves to criticize and mock, by marking their distinct discourse style as ‘other’ and inferior. representation of women’s language in negev bedouin 83

2.2 Narrative Discourse In the oral narrative style of Negev men, marked women’s speech style has different functions. It is primarily a stylistic performative means to liven up and dramatise the story, with no negative emotionality. In the story Jallāl [Henkin 2010 Story 1/55], the hero resides in a hostile camp, disguised as a good-for-nothing dung-gatherer, as he waits for a chance to avenge his father’s murder. When the tribe’s camels are plun- dered by enemies, all the warriors go out to retrieve them, and the women urge Jallāl to go out too:

[11] al-walāya wan-niswān kullhin ṭalʿin: “afzaʿ ya Jallāl! mā ḏ̣allayt ġaṛ intih, ya wēli!” ṭabban iyṣarrxin . . . gāḷan: “afzaʿ afzaʿ!” wiyṭubbin iyṣarrxin the women and wives all came out: “Go help out, Jallāl! You’re the only one left, O woe is me!” They burst into screams, crying: “Help out! Help out!” They burst into screams We get a very dynamic picture of many women (both walāya and syn- onymous niswān), all rushing out and screaming (the complex verb ṭabb yṣarrix ‘burst into screams’ is repeated). The quote contains the stereotypical exclamation of grief: ya wēlī ‘O my woe’ as well as a repeated imperative and vocative. But this saturated environment does not portray the women as irrational. On the contrary, they behave exactly as is expected of women in this situation: they spur their men on to battle. The dramatic situation is corroborated with performative stylistic means that liven up the narration to a performance. One of the narratives in Shawarbah’s dissertation on the dialect of the Negev Tiyāha confederation contains a scene somewhat similar to the one presented above: a tribe’s camels had been looted; the women, sent to the hostile camp to retrieve them, find there the hero whom they think is a servant. Upon finding out that he’s actually a noble warrior, they exclaim aw! This particle, used by a male narrator quoting women, is noted as exclusive to women to express surprise [Shawarbah 2007 Text M/19, n. 1042]. In the following situation [Henkin 2010 Story 5/24] a man was asked by his two wives to move away from the main highway, in order to find more fresh grass to feed the children: [12] “ya flān, aḥna wlādna—katalhum al-kafān” [. . .]. gāḷ-ḷhin: “wēš fī bālkin?” gāḷan: “waḷḷāhiy fī bālna at-talʿih al-flāniyyih” [. . .] xallna naṛḥal, ya zálamah, šwayyit haḏ̣-ḏ̣awāya, uhal-mʿayziydim, ḥatta nmanniḥ iʿyǟlna, winġámms-ilhum hal-lgēmihdim.” 84 roni henkin

“O so-and-so, our kids—they are struck by hunger” [. . .]. He asked them: “What do you have in mind?” they answered: “Well, we were thinking of that hill there[. . .] Let’s move away there, man, with some sheep, and some goatsdim, so we can feed our kids, and dip a morseldim for them”.

We see here the women’s use of diminutives mʿayziydim and lgēmihdim and the very feminine content of nurturing hungry children. At this stage in the story, the presentation of the women’s speech is interpreted as performative by default. The wives behave as expected of women. However, by the end of the story we understand that they had deceived their husband in order to lead him away from his hosting duties, ignoring his needs as a noble man. Their behaviour made him miserable and in the end he divorced both. With this new masculine understanding we may then re- interpret the feminine discourse style retroactively as symbolising negative feminine characteristics, such as deceit and manipulation. In Negev men’s narratives, then, imitation of women’s speech may serve a dual function – on the one hand as a performative means of dramatizing the narrative; and on the other hand it may retain the function of mocking criticism, as found in men’s conversational discourse. This duality enables an emerging re-interpretation of a story and its attitude to the women protagonists, thus enriching the rhetorical repertoire of men narrators.

References

Bettini, Lidia. 2006. Contes féminins de la Haute Jézireh syrienne. Quaderni di Semitistica 26. Dipartimento di Linguistica, Università di Firenze. Coates, Jennifer. 1986. Women, Men and Language: A Sociolinguistic Account of Gender Differences in Language. Ed 2. London & NY. Longman. Henkin, Roni. 2000. ‘Narrative Styles of Negev Bedouin Men and Women’. Oriente Moderno XIX (LXXX), 1, 59–81. ——. 2001. ‘Women’s Oral Narrative Styles in Palestinian Arabic—Bedouin and Rural’. Proceedings of an International Conference on Middle Eastern Popular Culture. Oxford, 56–65. ——. 2002. ‘Tense-Switching in Narratives of Negev Bedouin Men and Women’. A. Youssi et al. (eds.). Aspects of the Dialects of Arabic Today. Rabat, 288–298. ——. 2010. Negev Arabic: Dialectal, Sociolinguistic, and Stylistic Variation. Semitica Viva Series 48. Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz. Jespersen, Otto. 1922. Language: Its Nature, Development and Origin. London. George Allen & Unwin Ltd. Ch. 13 The Woman. Johnson, Samuel. 1755. A Dictionary of the English Language. Lakoff, Robin. 1975. Language and Woman’s Place. New York. Harper & Row. NBSDB = Negev Bedouin Statistical Data Book No. 3, 2010. Beer-Sheva. Ben-Gurion Univer- sity of the Negev [in Hebrew]. representation of women’s language in negev bedouin 85

Rosenhouse, Judith. 1995. ‘Features of Women’s Speech in Arabic Dialects’. Proceedings of the 2nd Conference of the International Arabic Dialectology Association (AIDA). Cam- bridge, 207–216. ——. 1998. ‘Women’s Speech and Language Variation in Arabic Dialects’. Al-ʿArabiyya 31, 123–152. Shawarbah, Musa. 2007. The Bedouin Dialect of the Tiyāha in the Negev: Phonology, Morphology and Some Selected Syntactic Issues. Jerusalem. The Hebrew University of Jerusalem [in Hebrew]. ——. 2012. A Grammar of Negev Arabic: Comparative Studies, Texts and Glossary in the Bedouin Dialect of the ʿAzāzmih Tribe. Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz. Tannen, Deborah. 1990. You Just Don’t Understand. Women and Men in Conversation. Milson’s Point (Australia). Random House. Weizman, Elda. 1997. ‘ha-siax ha-ʿitona⁠ʾi ba-ʿivrit ha-xadaša, svivot revuyot’ [ Journalistic Discourse in Modern Hebrew: Saturated Environments]. Y. Bentolila (ed.). Hadassa Shay Jubilee Volume, 211–227.

An Arabic text from Ṣūr, Oman

Clive Holes

Introduction

The dialect geography of northern Oman is now known in broad outline (Brockett 1985; Holes 1989, 1996, 1998; Webster 1991; Eades 2009a, 2009b), though much of the detail still remains to be described. What is clear is that the Omani dialects form a coherent group separate from the Bed- ouin-descended dialects of the Gulf countries like Kuwait, Bahrain and Qatar, but in many respects are similar to the ‘sedentary’ dialects of the Baḥārna of Bahrain and eastern Saudi Arabia. This coherence inheres in a set of, in the main, morphological isoglosses which all Omani dialects share. Whilst each of these ‘core’ Omani features can be found elsewhere in one of the neighbouring dialects of the Gulf, south western, or central Arabia, it is the co-occurrence of the group in all Omani dialects that gives them their unique geographical identity. Subordinate to this, contemporary differences within the Omani dialect group relate mainly to (historical) life-style: the dialects of the desert milieu (= ‘B’, for Bedouin) on the one hand, and those of the settled populations of the mountain valleys and mountain fringes (= ‘S’ for sedentary) on the other. However, the distinction between B and S in Oman, whether in historical life-style or contemporary dialect, is blurred, and differs from the situation in northern Arabia in which the same (therefore rather misleading) labels are used (Holes 1996). Many Omani tribes, e.g. the Durūʿ, have descent-groups whose members, when asked, will describe themselves as ḥaḍar, ‘sedentary’, though the dialect differences between them and descent-groups of the same tribe who describe themselves as badu, ‘Bedouin’, seem to be non-existent: all of the Durūʿ speak a ‘B’ dialect, typologically speaking. Life-style differences too are in practice hard to discern among them: no-one any more lives a life of seasonal migrations, and if animal husbandry is practiced, it is now from a permanent village base in the desert or at its edge. This claimed badu/ḥaḍar distinction relates more to issues of tribal genealogy than it does to real language or life-style distinctions. That having been said, the point needs re-iterating 88 clive holes

(since it has sometimes been misunderstood),1 that the dialects of the farmers and villagers of the northern Oman mountains and valleys as a whole are quite distinct from those of Omani desert dwellers, and justifies, on linguistic grounds, the S/B sub-classification of Omani dialects. This S/B distinction is very ancient, and occurs also, and in a very similar form, in Bahrain and to some degree in the UAE.2 Though it has the common stock of ‘Omani’ features just referred to, the Ṣūr dialect, which is the subject of this study, is otherwise mixed as regards the Omani B/S dialectal distinctions. It shows many features which are normally thought of in Oman, and in the larger context of eastern and central Arabia as B, but others which ally it with the S dialects of south Yemen (as described in Landberg) and the Baḥārna (Shīʿa) of Bahrain and eastern Saudi Arabia (as described by Procházka 1981; Holes 1983, 1984). In Oman, this type of mixed dialect is found in coastal towns from the UAE border all the way down the two hundred-mile Bāṭina coastal strip to Muscat and onwards for a further hundred or so miles to the southeastern region of Jaʿlān. Another example of this type of dialect, that of the coastal town of Khābūra, in the middle of the Bāṭina, is sketched in the introduction to Brockett 1985. A few miles inland of these coastal towns with their ‘mixed’ dialects, in the so-called sēḥ (flat agricultural lands into which the mountain wadis drain), but before one reaches the heartland S area of the mountains proper, one typically encounters a dialect with rather more S features than are found on the coast. Further inland, in the actual mountains and valleys, the dialects are purely S. But at some points along this coastal strip, this ‘pure’ inland S dialect reaches right to the coast itself. A case in point is the small seaside town of Qalhāt, south east of Muscat (and described in Ibn Baṭṭūṭa’s riḥla). Qalhāt is hemmed in on all sides by towering mountains, and, though only a few miles from Ṣūr, and since the 1980s linked to it by a coastal road, has an S dialect quite distinct from the ‘mixed’, but B-inclining dialect of its much bigger neighbour. Topography is one of the factors that seems to have made the difference here, with Ṣūr, because of its position, being much more open to outside influences, both mercantile and linguistic, from the sea and the interior of Oman.

1 E.g. by Versteegh 1984: 12, where the dialectological and sociological senses of ‘Bed- ouin’ and ‘sedentary’ are confused. See Holes 1996: 40, n. 25 for a correction. 2 For an outline of how this S/B distinction in eastern and southern Arabia came about, see Holes 2006. an arabic text from ṣūr, oman 89

Features Shared by all Omani Dialects, B and S

Listed below are some of the salient morpho-syntactic peculiarities found in virtually all Omani dialects, whether B or S (though that is not to say that there are no alternative forms to some of those listed, as will be made clear in the relevant place). Where one of these shared features (‘Sh1’, ‘Sh2’, etc.’) occurs in the text extract presented below, the conversational turn in which it occurs is numbered superscript after ‘N’ (= the first letter of the speaker’s name), e.g. N6. Where there is no such reference to the extract after a cited example, that means that it occurs in a section of the conversation not reproduced here. Sh1. An -n(n)- infix is obligatorily inserted between the active participle with verbal force and object pronoun suffixes. This is universal in Oman, and one of its most striking features, but is also reported by Landberg for south Yemen, and is widely used in the UAE, though not in all UAE dialects. It is also universal in the Baḥārna dialects of Bahrain and eastern Saudi Arabia.3 kānat mityawza u mṭalginha r-rayil ‘She was married but her husband divorced her’

Sh2. The 2nd fem sing possessive/ object suffix is -(i)š (not -(i)č). This is the case for the vast majority of Omani dialects. The two exceptions so far noted are the Wahība of the south east, who have a palatalised -(i)ky (Web- ster 1991), and some tribes, such as the Āl Bū Shāmis, whose dīra straddles the northern border with the UAE: they have the normal Gulf B reflex -(i)č. -(i)š in fact occurs widely in the Northern UAE, though not in all dialects, and it is also the normal reflex in south Yemen and for the Baḥārna dialects of Bahrain and eastern Saudi Arabia. In other words, the geographical distribution of Sh2 is similar to that of Sh1—both are basically (and historically) south Arabian features. No token of a 2nd fem sing possessive/ object suffix forms occurred in this text at all, as there were no females present and the speaker did not quote any speech in which such forms occurred. However, -(i)š is observably the norm in Ṣūr.

Sh3. A question particle -ə can be suffixed to any part of speech to form a question. It is used throughout Oman (Reinhardt 34: 110–111). This feature is also a salient marker of the Baḥārna dialects of Bahrain and eastern Saudi Arabia. Similar geographical distribution, therefore, to features Sh1 and Sh2.

3 See Holes 2011 for arguments for the extreme antiquity of this typologically rare feature, evidenced by its presence in the Central Asian dialects of Arabic. 90 clive holes

ištaġal, tšūf ə? (N7) ‘He found employment, d’you understand?’

Sh4. Fpl forms (verbs, adjectives and pronouns) are fully functional in all Omani dialects. The fpl is also found in south Yemen, the UAE, and widely in central Arabian dialects, but has largely disappeared from the dialects of the northern Gulf States. l-əxšāb l-əkbār waṣalan baṣra, u yāban it-tamar, yāban il-ʿēš (N10) ‘The big boats went to Basra, and brought back dates, brought back rice’ xamsīn riyāl yikaffinhin ‘Fifty riyals (dowry) would be enough for them (sc. the brides)’ il-balādin killəhin ‘All the countries’

Sh5. The ‘internal’ passive is productive and used everywhere in Oman, though my impression is that is more frequent in the S dialects of the mountainous interior. It is also common in the UAE, and in Najd (Ingham 1994: 26–28). But it does not occur often, except in set phrases, in the dialects of the northern Gulf States, where it has been replaced by the in- prefix. This feature is thus similar in geographical distribution to feature Sh4. šiḥanat 4 l-əxšāb (N2) ‘The boats were loaded up’ bas yixalla ʿala sīrtah (N15) ‘He would be left to his own devices’ bandar yigāl lih əmkyalla (N3) ‘A port called Mukalla’

Sh6. An adnominal linker -in between an indefinite noun and adjective, and in certain other environments, occurs frequently (so-called ‘dialectal tanwīn’). This occurs everywhere in Oman, but is not as common, and does not occur in such a variety of syntactic environments, as it does in Najd (Ing- ham 1994: 50–53). It is even less common, except in a few clichéd phrases, and in proverbs, dialect poetry, and other ‘frozen’ contexts, in the dialects of the northern Gulf States. Its regional distribution is thus similar in geographical distribution to features Sh4 and Sh5. iksūrin kiṯīra (N14) ‘Many (bone) fractures’

4 The active form would be šaḥanat. an arabic text from ṣūr, oman 91

Sh7. The presentative particle ṣā- (Reinhardt: 124) is seemingly uniquely Omani.5 ṣāh bāt maynūn (N15) ‘He just remained insane’ ṣāh yidris fi ṣ-ṣaff is-sādis ‘He is studying in Form 6’

Sh8. Relative pronoun bu. Again, seemingly uniquely Omani, though there are alternatives, and particularly common in the S mountain dialects. It is used by this speaker, but infrequently: fi killə bu yiṣīr, mā ḏ̣āʿaw (N10) ‘Whatever happened, they survived’ He generally prefers illaḏi or illi, e.g. baʿadēn min illaḏi yāy əb gandalah (N2) ‘Then there’d be some people who would bring their cargos of sandalwood’

Sh9. lāšay/māšay/māši for negative existentials. Typically Omani: lāšay mistašfayāt (N15) ‘There were no hospitals’ māši guwwa fēha ‘She had no strength’ In addition to this common stock of morpho-syntactic features there are many lexical items which differentiate the Omani dialects as a group from the dialects of the northern Gulf and central Arabia, though of course there are no sharp ‘linguistic borders’ coterminous with political ones, and several of the items noted here also occur in the UAE. Examples of functional particles and adverbs in this category include: šarwa/šira ‘like’ (Reinhardt: 118); (kil or killə) rbāʿa ‘(all) together’ (Reinhardt: 119; Brockett: 107); nōba ‘also, sometimes’ (Reinhardt: 119); b wāsṭat in ‘on account of the fact, because of ’; gōb/ yōb ‘approximately; like’ (Reinhardt: 118; Brockett: 76); mbōn- (< min bōn) used with a suffixed pronoun to mean ‘originally’ (Brockett: 65); tarā-, especially when used with suffixed pronouns, as a presentative (Reinhardt: 124; Brockett: 131, ex. 817); maʿna used as a pause

5 In the Dathīna region of southern Yemen, the particle šaʿ- functions in a similar way (Fischer 1959: 199) as does the particle ši- in the Dōsirī (i.e. originally south west Arabian) dialects of Kuwait (Johnstone 1961: 279–280). 92 clive holes filler (cf. ‘you know’, ‘I mean’) (Reinhardt: 118), like yaʿni in other dialects. Examples of these which occur in our text include:

ʿadan zēna . . . u baḏ̣āyiʿ fēha rxīṣa . . . širāt dibay al-ḥīn ‘Aden was good . . . and goods were cheap there . . . like Dubai is now’ yābo minnāk ʿēšhum u saminhum u ṣalīṭhum u ašġālhum killə rbāʿa (N10) ‘They brought back their rice, their cooking fat, their cooking oil, and (other) things, all together’ min əmkyalla nōba yišillōh ʿadan (N3) ‘From Mukalla sometimes they’d take it to Aden’ b wāsṭat in l-əxšāb l-əkbār waṣalan baṣra (N10) ‘because of the fact the big boats went to Basra’ yitimm yōb ṯamān, tisaʿ ayyām ‘It would take about eight or nine days’ awwal tarā-hum yitaʿbo, yištəġlu lākin yiḥaṣlu (N10) ‘In the old days, they had a hard life, they’d work but they did get something . . .’ mita malik is-sirṭān Gābūs . . . ṣār rxa maʿna (N7) ‘Since Sultan Qaboos came to the throne, there’s been prosperity, I mean’ Also, a number of high-frequency verbs not often found in other Arabic dialects, some with etymons in CA, have been retained in many Omani dialects, e.g. ta, yāti ‘to come’ (and ta bi ‘to bring’), ra, yara ‘to see’, rām, yirūm ‘to be able’, sār, yisīr ‘to go’,6 ḥād, yiḥīd ‘to know’. These verbs generally now vary with their more widely known equivalents, respectively: ga (bi), šāf, gidar, rāḥ, ʿaraf. In Oman, the verb ‘to give’ is simply ṭa, yāṭi. Another typically Omani usage is ṭāʿ ‘to be possible’ (‘to obey’ in CA). Examples of these Omani forms from this conversation: ṭāni bēt šaʿbi yidīd ‘He gave me a social house, a new one’ ma ṭāyiʿ yigbaḏ̣ ʿilim ‘He was incapable of learning’ iḏa ṭāʿ ši minni tiʿēlaǧ, šay minnə mā ytiʿēlaǧ (N14) ‘If a fracture here had perhaps healed, another one there had not’

6 This is also the basic form in the UAE. But the inland S dialects, like the village Baḥārna ones of Bahrain, have ġada, yiġdi ‘to go’, and in parts of southern Oman (B dialects) ḏahab ‘to go out’ occurs. an arabic text from ṣūr, oman 93

Bedouin Features

The speaker in our text speaks, in Omani terms, a B dialect, though with some consistently S elements. However, two of the B features which he uses, both phonological, give his dialect a distinctly ‘Gulf ’ flavour: B1. As with all B dialects, he consistently has g (occasionally G) < q. But occasionally he has the affricate ǧ < g < q, or a markedly palatalised gy, e.g. (all examples but the first from the part of the conversation not reproduced here): nistagyīm . . . ʿala t-tamar (N3) ‘We would earn our living from dates’ nǧaddim fēha ṭalab ‘We are making an application for it’ tiǧāsamnāh arbaʿat ashum ‘We divided it up among ourselves into four shares’ min ǧirīb ‘from close by’ This affrication to ǧ is a well-known feature of the B dialects of the Gulf, such as those of Kuwait, Bahrain, Qatar, and the UAE. The only other Omani B dialects which have this feature are those in the area of Al-ʿAyn/Buraimi which straddle the border with the UAE. It is absent from the Omani B dialects of the western and southern deserts, and even from close-by ‘interior’ B dialects like that of the Āl-Wahība.7 The S dialects, on the other hand, either have q < q or, in some inland mountain dialects, a velar realisation k < q, but in all cases the reflexes of CA q in the S dialects are voiceless.

B2. Similarly to his treatment of g, the speaker’s realisation of etymological k in front vowel environments is sometimes an affricate č, sometimes a heavily palatalised k, transcribed as ky, e.g. yimkyin yibīʿō, it-tamar hāḏāk (N3) ‘Perhaps they’d sell them, those dates’ nūṣal lē bandar yigāl lih əmkyalla (N3) ‘We would arrive at a port called Mukalla’ nčawwir l-əxšab (N2) ‘We would launch the boats’ ʿayšīn min it-tamar u s-samač (N11) ‘We lived on dates and fish’

7 Webster 1991: 475. 94 clive holes

čān ʿadan awwal zēna ‘In the old days, Aden was good’ Again, this affrication/palatalisation, which occurs in the neighbourhood of front vowels, is redolent of the Gulf B dialects, but not of the Omani B dialects of the west and south, which do not have it.8 The Omani S dialects go one of two ways: some maintain k as a velar stop in all positions, but in a few mountain dialects of the Jabal Shams and surrounding regions there is an unconditional affrication of k to č, which historically and phonologically is a quite different and separate process9 from the front-vowel only affrication which occurs in the B dialects. As to the interdentals ṯ and ḏ, normally thought of as typical of Bedouin dialects everywhere, these are the norm for all Omani dialects, B or S. And so it is with this speaker. But for historical ḏ̣ and ḍ, there is a split: like the generality of B dialect speakers everywhere, this one has ḏ̣ for both, whereas the Omani S dialects have ḍ for both. Other B phonological and morpho-phonological features in this speaker’s speech, found in Omani inland B dialects, as well as in those of the Gulf, are: B3. overwhelmingly, y < historical ǧ, with only a few instances of ǧ in specific words. The S dialects, by contrast, all have g as a reflex of CA ǧ.

B4. occasional instances of the so-called ghawa syndrome, as in hali ‘my family’, yixadim ‘he works’, yiʿarf ‘he knows’. The S dialects do not have this resyllabication.

B5. yti-, tti-, nti- prefixes for V and VI form imperfects, e.g. ytiʿēlaǧ ‘he is treated, ttirakkab ‘she climbs’, ntifayyag ‘we wake up’, ytiʿallamu ‘they learn’. The S dialects have yit-, tit- etc. in such forms.

B6. ḥan, ḥana, ḥanna, and naḥan all occur for ‘we’. The S dialects have iḥna.

B7. yā- in verbs initial hamza, e.g. yāxaḏ. The S dialects have yō-, as in yōxiḏ

B8. 3msg pronoun suffix is -a(h). The S dialects have -u(h).

8 Though Webster 1991: 475 does note a light palatalisation of k in the dialect of the Āl Wahība. 9 In this, the Omani mountain S dialects are like the S Baḥārna dialects of Bahrain, to which, as in so many other features, they seem closely, and almost certainly historically, related. an arabic text from ṣūr, oman 95

Sedentary Features

However, in spite of the presence of these distinctively B features, there are others which ally the speaker with the Omani S dialects: S1. The 3mpl suffix of imperfect verbs is invariably without the final -n, i.e. -u (suffixed -ū) or -o (suffixed -ō) never -ūn or -ōn. The form with -n is the one used in all the B dialects of the Gulf, as well as the ‘interior’ B dialects of Oman, whether of the west and north (e.g. Durūʿ, Āl Bū Shāmis) or the south (e.g. Harāsīs, Wahība). Thus the speaker has ybīʿōh (N2) ‘they sell it’, yidaxlu (N2) ‘they enter’, yāxḏōh (N3) ‘they take it’ etc., rather than yibīʿūnah, yidaxlūn, yāxḏūnah etc.

S2. A succession of short syllables CvCvCv(C) is normally retained, i.e. does not become (ə)CCvCv(C) via deletion of the first vowel and schwa prosthe- sis, as it does in the ‘interior’ Omani B dialects, and the Gulf B dialects, viz. the speaker has kyabaro (N1), ‘they grew old’ šiḥanat (N2)‘they were loaded’, ribaṭōh (N14) ‘they tied it’, waṣalo (N3) ‘they arrived’, tarakōhin (N7) ‘they abandoned them’, rather than əkbaro, əšhanat, ərbaṭōh, əwṣalo, ətrikōhin.

The Text

The text presented below is part of a much longer conversation recorded in 1986 from an elderly speaker (c. 60 years old at the time) who was born and brought up in the seaport of Ṣūr in the south east of Oman. At the time of this conversation, the speaker (‘N’) was employed as a porter and odd-job man at the local government hospital. In his youth he had followed the family tradition and worked on small trading vessels which plied the Gulf ports, and describes the pattern of buying a cargo in one port and selling it in another, sailing to the ports of south Yemen and East Africa as far as Mombasa and Zanzibar. Such traders were traditionally known throughout the Gulf as šrēṭī (pl šrēṭiyya). In the extract quoted, the conversation moves on to agriculture and pre-1970s healthcare. The interviewer (‘I’) is the author.

I bidēt ḥayātak ihni fi ṣūr? N1 naʿam kint fi ṣūr ihni ... min dōr 10 hali11 u iydādi, ihni fi ṣūr ...fīmā baʿad tarā ḥan ...awwal il-xaš—ḥanna naʿmal fi l-xišab ... aywa,

10 Cf. dōr il-awwal ‘the old days’. dōr ‘time, era’ throughout the Gulf. 11 Lit. ‘family, kin’, but here ‘fathers’. The speaker often uses this term to refer to the senior male members of his family. 96 clive holes

xišab ... yimkyin ana ṣġīr māšay madāris ...ġēr madāris iG-Gurʾān ... tšūf? ...baʿdēn al-ḥīn tarā-ḥan ...ʿayal halna kyabaro u ḥan ʿindhum ...min yōm ṣġār, ʿayal xamstaʿ 12 sana, minsāfir ʿindhum ... fīmā baʿad nūṣal awwal ayyām l-əwgat hāḏi 13— I wēn tsāfru? N2 minsāfir ayyām l-əwgat hāḏa... nčawwir 14 l-əxšab, nrūḥ li l-baṣra ... baʿadēn min illaḏi yāy əb gandalah15 ...inta al-ḥīn aǧrōh16 fi l-baṣra, fi l-kwēt, w illi ybīʿōh ...u baʿadēn yidaxlu l-baṣra ...min baʿad baṣra bāʿo l-gandal u xaḏəna tamar ... min baʿad it-tamar, šiḥanat l-əxšāb, ṭalʿah17 fi alfēn, alf u xamis18 ...ʿind l-magyra19 taksib illi tšillah, kān kiṯīr willa gilīl I tistagīmūn ʿala t-tiǧāra? N3 nistagyīm, nistagyīm ...kinna ʿala t-tamar, u kinna ...yibna min it-tamar minnāk, šallēnāh... yibna minnāk, wuṣalna hni band— bilādna ṣūr, fīmā baʿad, šallēna t-tamar minni, mā yāxḏōh ihni, gilīl yāxḏo t-tamar ihni ...lākin yišillōh l əmkyalla ...nūṣal lē bandar yigāl lih əmkyalla ...min əmkyalla nōba yišillōh ʿadan ...yimkyin yibīʿōh, it- tamar hāḏāk ...min mkyalla aw ʿadan ...waṣalo ʿadan, u yaḥḥōh20

12 Sic. Later on (N14) the same phrase is pronounced xamstaʿhər sana. 13 l-əwgat hāḏi and l-əwgat al-ḥīn for ‘nowadays’, with stress on the syllable containing the schwa vowel were used throughout by the speaker. I do not know if this is an idiosyn- crasy, or a feature of local speech. I did not note this form anywhere else in Oman. 14 Landberg: 2593 kawwar ‘to launch a boat into water’. 15 gandal (= čandal or dančal in the northern Gulf ) ‘sandalwood’, used in traditional house construction, particularly for ceiling beams, was imported from East Africa. 16 The sense seems to be ‘they got their reward/pay (aǧr ‘pay’) from it’, though the verb aǧǧar normally means ‘to lease, hire’, cf. the Iraqi extended use of gayyam to mean ‘to get a living from, profit from’ (< gīma ‘cost, price’) as well as the regular sense of ‘evaluate, put a price on’. 17 Lit: ‘the amount of it’. Cf. Najdi ṭalʿ ‘length, amount’ (Kurpershoek: 190). 18 Unclear what the unit of measurement is here, but probably the Omani mann (‘maund’) = approx. 4 kilos. 1500–2000 mann would equate to a boat-load of between six and eight tons of dates. 19 This word is unclear on the recording. As transcribed, the phrase in which it occurs may perhaps mean ‘on/during the journey’. In maritime parlance, maǧra signifies the ‘course’ followed by a ship, more loosely its ‘journey’. 20 yaḥḥōh ‘they brought it’. Reinhardt: 96 notes the same verb for the dialect he describes, though with sedentary g for Bedouin y: gaḥḥēnāh ‘we brought him’. Intriguingly, Jayakar: 264 notes the verb yaḥā ‘to go’ for the Shiḥḥī dialects of the Musandam peninsula at the other end of the country. Landberg: 329, quoting Bittner and Jahn’s work, notes the possibly related Mehri defective verb geḥau ‘to come’ (cf CA ǧaḥā ‘to take a step’). an arabic text from ṣūr, oman 97

b əxšābhum fi ʿadan ... baʿadēn əxlāf nōba sirna minnāk, u sirna ila hāvūn21 aw xaḏna luxəm hādi luxəm, u čanʿad I hāḏa l-ʿōd N4 aywa, čanʿad, il-ʿōd hāḏa ...xaḏna min hāvūn ...illaḏi nizal fi ʿadan, yāxəḏ il-luxəm hāḏa ...aw yāxəḏ iṣ-ṣēd u šilnāh li s-sawāḥil ... frīqyā I lākin al-ḥīn la, bannadōha N5 al-ḥīn kān awwal yišillo hāy—[?]... baʿdēn bannadō, māšay xšab ... iyi l-əxšāb iṣ-ṣiġār ḥagg is-simač ...min šān ilyūx, yisawwū lyūx lil- baḥar, u iyību s-simak iṣ-ṣaġīr hāḏa ...u l-əxšāb iṣ-ṣġār— I l-əkbīra yaʿni māšay? N6 al-ḥīn l-əxšab il-kibīr baṭṭalōhu22 ...lākin awwal nsāfir fīh ʿadan u nsāfir is-sawāḥil, u nyīb minnāk gandal min is-sawāḥil aw gaʿadna hnāk nyāwiš 23 ila ḥadd il-mōsim24 ...ʿind il-mōsim yīna fi ayyām iṣ-ṣēf ...irǧaʿna I u ṣār abadan ʿindkum, yōm intu tsāfrūn fi l-xašab—ṣār ḥādṯa aw šay? N7 ohō, naʿam, fi l-baḥar wāyid ṣār ʿalēna mašākil ...mašākil baḥar ...f l-baḥar tiġaḏ̣ḏ̣ab il-māy u tikbar ʿalēna kibīr ...baʿdēn ḥatta l-akil hāḏa, mā nigdar nāxaḏ min il-akil hāḏa ...min guwt il-amwāǧ illi tsīr ʿalēna ...baʿdēn iḏa kān il-xišba rāhiya25 u guwiyya itsinn26 fīh tarā-ha ...w illi šwayya əḏ̣ʿīfa tsawwi ʿalēna l-baḥar u nigʿad ninzilax, ninzilax ʿala l-baḥar ...killo taʿab, mālyīn, tšūf? hāḏa ana miḥtisib ...u ṣār lēna zamān umūr ...awwal ahalna u baʿadēn

21 hāvūn = Hafun, a small seaport in the extreme north-east of Somalia, situated on a low lying peninsula which juts out into the Indian Ocean. See Tibbetts: 414–5. 22 Throughout the Gulf, but not outside it, the verb baṭṭal normally means ‘to open’, and bannad (N5) is its opposite, ‘to close’. Here, however, N uses baṭṭal in its common sense in other Arabic dialects, ‘to stop/ cancel’. 23 Landberg: 311: ǧāwaš ‘to tour round, go for a walk’ (Aden). 24 The monsoon season along the coast of south Arabia is between May and Septem- ber, when there may be very heavy rainfall with strong winds and choppy seas. The winds at this point are favourable for ships returning from Africa to the Gulf. 25 Reinhardt: 95: raha ʿala ‘to be powerful’; in Mesopotamia rāhi is ‘capacious’ (Van Ess: 130). 26 Cf Landberg: 1083: sann iṭ-ṭarīq ‘tracer une route’. Holes 2001: 251 sann ‘to cross the sea; Holes 2005 341: ‘to sail in a southerly direction’; Ḥanẓal: 308 sānn ‘(of a ship) going south’. 98 clive holes

ḥan ...baʿdēn əxlāf ʿād hāḏa l-masal ...al-ḥīn illi sawwo l-əxšāb l-əkbār tarakōhin ...ē l-əwgat al-ḥīn ...min šān ʿindna l-ḥamdillāh rabb il-ʿālamīn, ṣār al-ḥīn ərxa ...maʿa s-sirṭān Gābūs mita malik is-sirṭān27 Gābūs, allāh yaḥṭīh28 il-ʿāfya, ṣār rxa maʿna ...u al-ḥīn al-xaləg ḥaṣṣəlat ...illi ḥaṣṣal min iš-šaġal min il-ḥukūma ...ištaġal, tšūf ə? wi tyo ʿayyaš 29 ʿayāləh ...ʿayyaš ʿayāləh ...u ʿayāləh ʿāšo ... yixadim ʿala ʿašra, ṯamānyat anfār, ʿašrat anfār ...raǧǧāl wāḥid bi l-maʿāš hāḏa ...u rabbi subḥān u taʿāla mbārik fīh ...w illaḏi yištəġil bi l-baḥar hāḏa yisawwi lyūx30 u yiṭlaʿ al-ʿaṣir u fi l-lēl yibāto, yiḥaṣṣilo ṣēd min il-lyūx hāḏi u ṭallaʿo l-lyūx u yābōh bāʿōh I u humma mā zālu yiṣnaʿūn hāḏa l-xašab?il-ʿōd? ana šifthum ʿala s-sīf N8 aywa naʿam, ʿind asātīz,31 asātīz zēnīn . . . mā zālo min dōr halhum u iydādhum hummə yiṣənʿo hāḏa il-xišab hāḏa . . . awwal kibīr, wa l-ḥīn iṣ-ṣaġīr . . . al-ḥīn il-kibīr tara-hum mā— I ʿindak maʿlūmāt ʿan il-mihna hāḏi? gumt biha inta? N9 ana? la, ilhum asātīz xāṣṣ ...asātīz ʿala n-naǧāra, asātīz xāṣṣīn fē hāḏe š-šuġl ...ḥana la, ḥan nišri l-əxšāb z-zāhba u nsāfir fēha ... aywa hu māl asātīz xāṣṣ ...fīh baʿad mawǧūdīn al-ḥīn ḥatta fi l-baṭaḥ32 mawyūdīn, yixidmu. I akṯarhum fi ṣ-ṣūr yištəġilūn il-awwal ʿala l-xašab, u fi ṣunʿ il-xašab, u fi s-safar? N10 naʿam ...awwal hal ṣūr, ma mihna ʿindhum illa mihnit il-baḥar w il-xišab ...hāḏiya bass ...mihnithu ...u yiṣīd is-simač ...illi yiṣīd is-simač yiṣīd is-simač, w illi yimši nōxaḏa yimšī nōxaḏa, w illi yiṣīr baḥḥār yiṣīr baḥḥār ...w id-dinya l-ḥamdillāh ʿayšīn ...w il-ḥamdillāh hal ṣūr mā ḏ̣āʿaw ...fi killə bu yiṣīr, mā ḏ̣āʿaw b wāsṭat in l-əxšāb l-əkbār waṣalan baṣra, u yāban it-tamar, yāban il-ʿēš ...baʿdēn

27 The speaker regularly substitutes r for l in this word (and others). Reinhardt: 10 notes the substitution more widely in Omani dialects. 28 The speaker substitutes ḥ for ʿ regularly in this verb. 29 Lit. ‘they came (tyo (Reinhardt: 245)) and (he) fed his family’. The speaker mixes plural and singular verbs when referring to a generic third person subject. 30 Pl. of lēx ‘fishing net’ (Brockett: 193). 31 ‘Masters (of shipbuilding)’. The normal word for shipwright in the Gulf is gallāf. This pl. form asātīz is also used in Egypt. 32 baṭaḥ is lit. ‘sand, dust’, though this word is always associated with land on the mar- gin of the sea or a river. an arabic text from ṣūr, oman 99

waṣalan is-sawāḥil, u yābo minnāk ʿēšhum u saminhum u ṣalīṭhum33 u ašġālhum killə rbāʿa ...zāttīn34 u ṣārat byūthum [?] māši fēha taʿab ...min šān il-akil lō ġērə ...u al-ḥīn ʿād, al-ḥīn zād ir-raxāʾ aḥsan baʿad ʿan awwal, akṯar ʿan awwal baʿad iz-zād ...awwal tarā- hum yitaʿbo, yištəġlu lākin yiḥaṣlu I zirāʿa mā zirāʿa mā yisawwu? N11 naʿam, ʿidna zrāʿa ...fīh blādīn hāḏiya ...blād fēha zrāʿa nxīl, u hāḏīk in naḥan baladna fēha ṭēwi,35 mičān fēha ṭēwi, ništəġil fi ṭ-ṭēwi, u nxīlna hnāk fēha ṭēwi ...nisawwi zrāʿa u nsawwi tamar hāḏi akṯar ... ʿayšīn min it-tamar u s-samač wi l-ʿēš ...u al-ḥīn al-ḥamdillāh killə šay rāxi ... I il-awwal māši madāris, māši mustašfayāt? N12 māši mustašfayāt awwal māši. I lamma wāḥid yimraḍ il-awwal— N13 wēš agūl lik ...iḏa čān wāḥid yimraḍ, yaḥtu36 yiʿālǧū fi l-bēt ...yiʿālǧū fi l-bēt, iḏa kān fīh ʿāyiš tirʿa37 ʿalēh il-ʿilāǧ ḥatta im masḥa38 yiġarrūhu,39 im masḥat māy, yisawwū lih masḥa, tismaʿ? ilē rabbi twaffāh willa ʿāš ...u akṯar yitwaffāhum ...tšūf ? minǧan40 ʿināya, māši ʿināya u māši daxātir u [?] mašēna fi l-xāriǧ aw ḥad hnāk ṭāḥ fi l-xāriǧ aw šay, baʿad ḥaṣṣalo ...yišillhum ʿadan ḥaṣṣalo fēha daxātir ...ḥaṣṣalo f mkyalla, ḥaṣṣalo fēha daxātir

33 Reinhardt: 46: salīt ‘sesame or palm oil’. In the B dialects, the consonants in this word are pronounced with emphatisation. 34 zātt ‘quick, speedy’. Also zitāt ‘quickly’ and zattat ‘to do s’thing speedily’ in the Gulf more generally (Holes 2001: 219–220). 35 Apparently, from the context, ‘wells’, a typically Omani word. But the speaker could be talking here about tribal agricultural land in the coastal settlement of Ṭīwī, about 30 miles to the north-west. He often pronounces ī as ē, e.g. fēha is virtually categorical for ‘in it’, so he may here be pronouncing Ṭīwī as ṭēwi. But it would appear that the place- name itself is related to the local word for ‘well’, ṭawī, and it may be an alternative plural to the more usual ṭuwyān. 36 So enunciated on the tape, and clearly in the sense of ‘they would come’, but difficult to explain etymologically. Forms cognate with CA ʾata ‘to come/bring’ occur widely in Omani Arabic, e.g. yāti ‘he comes’, yātū ‘they come’ with loss of the medial glottal (i.e. < historical ya⁠ʾtiya⁠ʾtu, I).t seems here we have ḥ for the historical glottal: yaḥtu ‘they come’. 37 raʿa ‘to care for someone who is ill’. Landberg: 1306 notes this specific meaning also for the Sudan. 38 masḥa is ‘an act of rubbing, massaging’. The prefix im seems to be < ib ‘with’. 39 ġarra ‘to smear, rub on’. 40 < min aǧal (Landberg: 64). 100 clive holes

I u lō wāḥid maṯalan yiṭīḥ min naxla aw šay— N14 iḏa kān ḥayy, iḏa kān ṭāḥ ḥayy tara ʿālaǧōh ḥad maʿna hni ʿilāǧ ... fa l-ʿilāǧ yisawwū lih, awwal yisawwū lih il-miliḥ hāḏa ...yinkisir ir-rīl hādi, awwal maʿna yisawwū lih l-miliḥ ...u yiribṭu ʿalēh il-miliḥ šway dāfi, ḥārr ...yiʿaṣṣo41 ʿalēh šway ki lamma d-damm hāḏāk, maṣṣəh il-miliḥ hāḏāk ...baʿdēn ixlāf maʿna wāḥid rayyāl yihabbir 42 kān ihni ...fīh yumkin nās kiṯīr baʿad ...gubaḏ̣ il-ʿaḏ̣əm hāḏa, rakkab il-ʿaḏ̣əm ʿala l-ʿaḏ̣əm ...baʿdēn xlāf yisawwū lih hāḏa yixlaṭ in-nīl u mərr yisammūh ...u rabbōh43 fi n-nār ilēma fāḥ ...inxalag in-nil w il-mərr hāḏa u ribaṭōh ʿala r-rīl, u ʿaṣṣo ʿalēha, ʿaṣṣō ʿalēha, ʿaṣṣō ʿalēha ...lākin yikūn il-ʿaḏ̣əm yābir ...eywa ...tammat mudda kil ərbāʿa tṣīr xamstaʿhər 44 yōm, il-ḥamdillāh tiʿāfa, hāḏa ...u iḏa kān iksūrin kiṯīra, nōba ʿindi iḏa ṭāʿ ši minni tiʿēlaǧ, šay minnə mā ytiʿēlaǧ ...ši lamma tgūl māl xaṭar minni mā yindās45 ġēr illa minni yindās willa minni yindās w ir-rīl tindās u hāḏa killə šay illa ...minni u minni ...hāḏa ...w id-dinya ʿāšaw I al-ḥīn ʿindhum mustašfayāt xāṣṣa lil-mayānīn, maṯalan ...š-isawwūn il-awwal, wāḥid maynūn, ʿaqlah ḍāyiʿ— N15 ma yistafīd bi ši ...iḏa kān maynūn, ṣāh bāt maynūn, ma lih ʿilāǧ maʿna ...ma yiʿālǧūh ...māšay tara ʿilāǧ ...lā əḥbūb ...bas yixalla ʿala sīrtah ilamma yimūt u yitwaffāh ...daxātir māšay maʿna ... wa l-ḥamdillāh al-ḥīn killə ši mawǧūd ...allah yiṭawwil as-sulṭān ʿumrəh ...naʿam, kil ši mawyūd, weš agūl lik ...tara awwal in-nās agūl lik ummiyya ma yiʿarfu ši ...ma yiʿarfu ʿilim, ma ytiʿallamu ...u lāšay madāris, u lāšay mistašfayāt ...u lāšay ʿināya ...ʿināya māši ... illa hāḏa, timruḥhum,46 ʿābalo47 ...iḏa kān ʿāš, ʿāš, iḏa kān māt, māt ...xalāṣ

41 Landberg: 2297 ʿaṣṣ ‘to press’. 42 Brockett: 210: habbar ‘to set bones with splints’. 43 Cf Landbeg 1058: rubb ‘concoction of dates thickened over a fire’. 44 So pronounced, with h for š. h for ṯ is known in hintēn < ṯintēn ‘two’ in the B dialects of the northern Gulf. 45 Lit. ‘This part can’t have weight put on it’ (lit ‘be trodden down with’). 46 Normally, this verb is marax ‘to massage’. 47 ʿābal ‘to work’ in Oman (Brockett: 156); in Bahrain it means ‘look after, care for, make an effort for’. an arabic text from ṣūr, oman 101

Translation

I Did you start your life here in Ṣūr? N1 Yes, here in Ṣūr . . . from the time of my fathers and forefathers . . . here, in Ṣūr . . . Later, we—. . . in the old days, the boa—we worked on wooden boats, yes, boats . . . When I was young, maybe there were no schools . . . except Qur’an schools, you see? Afterwards, now, we—. . . Well, our fathers grew old while we were still living with them. Starting from the time we were young, say fifteen years old, we used to go on voyages with them. Then, back then, at the time of year we are now, we’d arrive— I Where did you travel to? N2 We’d travel at this time of the year . . . we’d launch the boats, and we’d go to Basra . . . Then there’d be some people who would bring their cargos of sandalwood, sell them in Basra or in Kuwait, people would sell them . . . then they’d go to Basra. After Basra, they sold the sandalwood and bought dates. After the dates were bought, the ship was loaded up, the weight might be 2,000 or 1,500 (maunds). For each passage, you’d be paid according to how much you carried, whether it was a lot or a little. I Did you make a living from this trade? N3 We made our living, made our living . . . from dates . . . We brought dates from there, and transported them. We brought them from there and came back here, to port—. . . to our home of Ṣūr. Then, we carried the dates from here—people don’t buy them much here, only a small amount—and would take them to Mukalla, we’d arrive at a port called Mukalla, from Mukalla sometimes they’d take them to Aden . . . perhaps they’d sell them, those dates . . . in Mukalla or Aden . . . they reached Aden, they brought their boats into Aden. Then, afterwards, sometimes, we left from there to Hāvūn . . . or we’d buy shark fish—sharks, and king mackerel. I You mean those big (fish)? N4 Yes, king mackerel, the big ones . . . we bought them in Hāvūn . . . the people who docked at Aden would buy shark meat . . . or buy a catch of fish which we took to the coast . . . of Africa. 102 clive holes i but now they don’t do that, they’ve stopped it. . . N5 In the old days they’d carry this—[?] . . . then they stopped it, there were no (big) boats . . . small boats came, for catching fish . . . that used nets, they’d make nets for the sea, and catch small fish . . . and the small boats— i there weren’t any big ones? N6 Now they’ve stopped building big boats . . . but before, we would sail in them to Aden and the coast (of Africa), and bring back sandalwood from there, from the (African) coast . . . or we’d stay there, touring around up until the monsoon . . . when it was the monsoon, we came back, in the summer . . . we came back. I When you went on a boat journey, were there ever any incidents? N7 Oh, yes! We had lots of incidents at sea . . . incidents at sea . . . the sea would get rough, and very big . . . even our food, we couldn’t eat our food . . . because of the strength of the waves breaking over us . . . but if the boat was strong and powerful, it would get through it, because it—. . . but if it was small, it would let the sea break over us, and the boat would be continuously sliding about, sliding up and down in the sea . . . it was all very tiring, (we were) full (of sea water) . . . See? That’s what I remember . . . in those by-gone days things happened to us, first it was to our fathers and after them, to us . . . then after that, for instance—. . . now, the people who built the big ships have abandoned them . . . yes, nowadays they have . . . because now, praise be to God, Lord of the Worlds, we’ve got prosperity . . . with Sultan Qaboos . . . since Sultan Qaboos came to the throne, there’s been prosperity, I mean—may God grant him good health—there’s been prosperity, I mean, these days people have got—. . . some have got jobs from the government, they’ve got work, d’you see? They’ve supported their families, they’ve supported their families, and their families have survived . . . a man works to support eight or ten people, ten people . . . one man, with the salary he’s got . . . praise to the Lord Most High, who has blessed him with this . . . and the ones who work at sea make nets, and go out (to sea) in the afternoons, and they spend the night catching fish with these nets, then they pull up them up and return to sell the fish. an arabic text from ṣūr, oman 103

I Do they still build ships? Big ones? I’ve seen them on the beach48 N8 Yes, yes, master shipwrights, skilful shipwrights . . . they’ve carried on, from the time of their fathers and forefathers they’ve been building those boats . . . in the old days they were big ones, now they’re small. These, these big ones, they don’t— I Do you know anything about that work? Did you ever do it yourself ? N9 Me? No! They have specialist shipwrights . . . specialists in carpentry, shipwrights specialist in that work . . . us, no, we bought the finished boats and went on journeys in them . . . yes, that (work) was spe- cially for shipwrights . . . there are still some alive today, even now down there on the sea-shore, working. I So most people in Ṣūr used to work on the boats, building them or sailing in them? N10 Yes. In the old days the only work the people of Ṣūr had was the sea and wooden boats . . . that was their only job . . . and they would fish . . . some would fish, some would work as boat captains, some as seamen . . . and everybody, praise be to God, lived their lives . . . and, praise be to God, the people of Ṣūr survived . . . whatever might happen, they survived . . . because the big boats went to Basra and brought back dates, brought back rice . . . then, they went to the (African) coastal regions, and brought back their rice, their cooking fat, their cooking oil, and (other) things, all together . . . (they travelled) quickly, and they had no hardships at home, from the point of view of food and such like . . . and now, prosperity is even more than it was, even greater than before, and there’s more food than there was . . . in the old days, they had a hard life, they’d work but they did get something . . . I Did they grow crops and things like that? N11 . . . Yes, we grew crops . . . there are villages, in these villages there was palm cultivation . . . that land of ours, there were wells in it . . . a place with wells, we worked (the land watered by) the wells . . . our palm gardens there had wells in them . . . we’d plant crops, and grow

48 I was referring here to the building of special pleasure craft, which continued in Ṣūr after ocean-going work-boats had stopped being built. 104 clive holes

dates, mostly . . . we lived off dates, fish and rice . . . and now, praise be to God, life is easy . . . i in the old days, there were no schools or hospitals? N12 No hospitals in the old days, none. I So if someone fell ill in the old days— N13 What can I say? If someone fell ill, they would come and treat him at home . . . treat him at home . . . if there was—if he was alive, you’d care for him, and they’d smear him with a liquid, rub him with a liquid, they’d rub him, d’you understand? Until he died or lived . . . most of them died, d’you see? As far as (medical) care was concerned, there was none, and no doctors either . . . or [if ?] we went outside Oman (sc for treatment), some people went outside or something, then they got (treatment) . . . if they took them to Aden, they found medical doctors there . . . they found them in Mukalla, they found doctors there . . . I What if someone fell out of a palm-tree or something? N14 If he lived, if he fell and lived, then someone would treat him here . . . the treatment they gave him, in the old days—they’d use salt . . . if he had broken a leg, in the old days, they’d use salt49 . . . they’d attach a warm, a hot, salt poultice, which they pressed down on, so that the salt soaked up the blood . . . then, after that, there was the man who set bones . . . there might have been quite a few such people . . . he took hold of the bone, and fixed one (part of the broken) bone to the other . . . then they made what is called ‘indigo and myrrh liniment’ . . . they thickened it over a fire until it until gave off a smell . . . the indigo and myrrh had combined together, and they attached it to the leg. They pressed on it, pressed on it, pressed on it . . . but the bone would be set . . . after a period—it might be fifteen days altogether—praise be to God, it had healed . . . and if there were many fractures, sometimes one here had perhaps healed, another one there hadn’t . . . where you might say, because of the pain,50 “this part won’t take the weight, but this part here will, that part there will, and the foot will” . . . Everything (would heal)

49 Salt was used in traditional medicine, as here, as an antiseptic for disinfecting open wounds and for cleansing the womb after childbirth. 50 Lit: ‘danger’. an arabic text from ṣūr, oman 105

except . . . here and there . . . that’s what (we did) and people lived their lives. i now they’ve got special hospitals for the insane, for instance . . . what did they do in the old days with someone who was insane, who was deranged? N15 He would get no help with it . . . if he was insane, he would just stay insane, there was no treatment, they didn’t treat him . . . there was no treatment, there were no pills . . . he’d be left to his own devices until he died . . . there were no doctors . . . now, praise the Lord, everything’s available, may God lengthen the Sultan’s life! . . . Yes, everything’s available, what more is there to say . . . in the old days, I’m telling you, people were illiterate, they knew nothing . . . they had no knowledge, they didn’t learn anything . . . there were no schools, no hospitals, no medical care . . . no medical care . . . except you just massaged them, and they went back to work . . . if they lived, they lived, if they died, they died . . . that was it.

Concluding Remarks

Ronald Codrai, whose photographs of the lower Gulf and Oman in the middle of the last century record a lost world, once described an Omani tribesman he was photographing in the 1950s as ‘a happy-go-lucky resi- dent of Ṣūr. Fisherman, sailor, shepherd or visiting tribesman from the interior? Quite likely each at various times of his life’ (Richardson and Dorr: 262). Codrai’s words could easily apply to N., the speaker in this article. Lacking any formal education, and a sailor and a fisherman in his youth, he had also turned his hand to farming at times in the year when the winds were not favourable for sailing. By the time of this recording, aged around 60, he was working as an odd-job man in the Ṣūr government hospital. And his demeanour was certainly happy-go-lucky. The mixed population of Ṣūr goes a long way to explaining its ‘mixed’ dialect. Like many ports around the world, Ṣūr has long been an outlet, a point of ingress, a staging post, and an emporium. It is easily reached by sea and by land, and the coastal Omanis, whether from Ṣūr or Bāṭina towns like Ṣuḥār, have long led a life which brought them into regular contact with their neighbours: Dubai, Doha, Manama, Kuwait, and Basra, not to mention the ports of southern Yemen and the east coast of Africa. There are many now elderly men in Ṣūr like N., who, over the course of their 106 clive holes working lives, got to know the northern Gulf well, and not just through maritime trade—they often spent years working there when times were tough in Oman. In this peripatetic, jack-of-all-trades life-style, there is at least a partial explanation of why the Ṣūr dialect of the older generation seems to be a pot-pourri of the Bedouin dialects of the Omani south-east and the sedentary dialects of towns like nearby Qalhāt and the villages of the Sharqiyya mountains, with an unmistakeable whiff, especially in its phonology, of Gulf speech. However, we should admit that we still know relatively little about the historical movement of populations in Oman, and the origins of the type of dialect spoken by the people of Ṣūr may go back much further. It is interesting to observe that the Gulf influence on the speech of the elderly Omani noted in this article—if that is what it is—is now manifest- ing itself again in Oman but in a more pervasive form. A number of articles have recently appeared in the Omani press bemoaning the current fashion in the local media for Omanis to adopt a distinctively ‘Gulf ’ style of speech, abandoning the ‘sedentary’ norms of the dialect of the Capital Area and sounding more as if they come from Dubai or Bahrain. This is indicative of a ‘covert’ linguistic prestige which has developed as a consequence of Oman’s closer political and economic ties with the northern Gulf States since the advent of the Gulf Co-Operation Council in the mid- 1980s. This style of speech, especially noticeable in educated young Omani women, seems to be a pastiche of the city dialects of Dubai, Manama and Kuwait, in which saliently Omani dialect features are eschewed. The fashion may have arisen in part as a result of the speakers’ education outside Oman, but it is giving rise to anxious questions about the Omanis’ view of their own national identity.51 Proud though they may be of the country’s progress under the present Sultan, do they now see themselves as Omanis first and foremost, or as citizens of the Gulf?

References

Brockett, Adrian. 1985. The Spoken Arabic of Khābūra, University of Manchester. Eades Domenyk. 2009a. ‘Retention of the passive verb in a Bedouin dialect of northern Oman’, Zeitschrift für Arabische Linguistik 51, 5–21.

51 See, e.g. http://www.alwatan.com/graphics/2008/01Jan/13.1/dailyhtml/culture.html#2, published in the Omani newspaper al-Watan in January 2008. an arabic text from ṣūr, oman 107

——. 2009b. ‘The Arabic dialect of a Shawāwī community of northern Oman’. In: Enam Al-Wer and Rudolf de Jong. (eds.) Arabic Dialectology: in Honour of Clive Holes on the Occasion of his Sixtieth Birthday. Leiden, Boston. Brill, 77–98. Fischer, Wolfdietrich. 1959. Die demonstrativen Bildungen der neuarabischen Dialekte. The Hague. Mouton. Ḥanẓal, Fāliḥ. 1998. Muʿǧam al-Alfāḏ̣ al-ʿāmmiyya fī al-Imārāt al-ʿArabiyya. Abu Dhabi. Holes, Clive. 1983. ‘Bahraini dialects: sectarian dialects and the sedentary/nomadic split’, Zeitschrift für Arabische Linguistik 10, 7–37. ——. 1984. ‘Bahraini dialects: sectarian differences exemplified through texts’, Zeitschrift für Arabische Linguistik 13, 27–67. ——. 1989. ‘Towards a dialect geography of Oman’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 52/3, 446–62. ——. 1996. ‘The Arabic dialects of south-eastern Arabia in a socio-historical perspective’, Zeitschrift für Arabische Linguistik 31, 34–56. ——. 1998. ‘Retention and loss of the passive verb in the Arabic dialects of northern Oman and eastern Arabia’, Journal of Semitic Studies 43/2, 347–362. ——. 2001. Dialect, Culture and Society in Eastern Arabia, Volume I: Glossary. Leiden, Bos- ton, Cologne. Brill. ——. 2005. Dialect, Culture and Society in Eastern Arabia, Volume II: Ethnographic Texts. Leiden, Boston, Cologne. Brill. ——. 2006. ‘The Arabic dialects of Arabia’. Proceedings of the Seminar for Arabian Studies 36, 25–34. ——. 2011. ‘A participial infix construction of eastern Arabia—an ancient pre-conquest feature?’. Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 38, 75–98. Ingham, Bruce. 1994. Najdi Arabic: Central Arabian. Amsterdam. John Benjamins. Jayakar A.S.G. 1902. ‘The Shahee dialect of Arabic’. Journal of the Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 21, 246–277. Johnstone, Tom. 1961. ‘Some characteristics of the Dōsirī dialect of Arabic as spoken in Kuwait’. Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 24/2, 249–297. Kurpershoek, P. Marcel. 2005. Oral Poetry and Narratives from Central Arabia. Volume V Glossary, Indices & List of Recordings. Leiden, Boston. Brill. Landberg, le Comte de. 1920–42. Glossaire Dathînois. Leiden. Brill. Procházka, Theodor. 1981. ‘The Shī‘ī dialects of Bahrain and their relationship to the East- ern Arabian dialect of Muḥarraq and the Omani dialect of al-Ristāq’. Zeitschrift für Arabische Linguistik 6, 16–55. Reinhardt, Carl. 1894, repr. 1972. Ein arabischer Dialekt gesprochen in Oman und Zanzibar. Amsterdam. Philo Press. Richardson, Neil and Dorr, Marcia. (eds.) 2003. The Craft Heritage of Oman (2 Vols). Dubai. Motivate Publishing. Tibbetts, G.R. 1971. Arab Navigation in the Indian Ocean before the Coming of the Portuguese. London. Luzac. Van Ess, John. 1918. The Spoken Arabic of Mesopotamia. Oxford. Oxford University Press. Versteegh, Kees. 1984. Pidginization and Creolization: the Case of Arabic. Amsterdam. John Benjamins. Webster, Roger. 1991. ‘Notes on the dialect and the way of life of the Āl Wahība bedouin of Oman’. Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 54/3, 473–485.

Grammaticalizations based on the verb kāna in Arabic dialects

Otto Jastrow

This paper discusses a number of grammaticalizations based on various inflected forms of the Old Arabic (OA) verb kāna, yakūnu ‘to be’ in the modern Arabic dialects. These grammaticalizations which fulfil different grammatical and syntactic functions are spread unevenly over the present- day Arabic-speaking area. Some of them have been discussed in the framework of the description of individual Arabic dialects—sometimes with wrong results—but they have never been treated together as a group of morphemes sharing the same etymological source.

1. Verbum Existentiae

Among the expressions used to indicate that something exists (verbum existentiae, ‘there isʼ) there are two forms which are clearly grammaticalizations based on forms of the verb kāna ‘to be’:

1.1 Derived from OA *kāʾin ‘beingʼ OA *kāʾin ‘beingʼ is the etymology of the particle kāyǝn ‘there isʼ which is widely used in Urban Moroccan Arabic. As such it is also found in textbooks of Standard (Urban) Moroccan Arabic, e.g. kayen l-biḍ fe-l-keššina?1 Are there any eggs in the kitchen? (Harrell 1965, p. 201) The grammaticalization of this particle is still incomplete as it can show a feminine and a plural form in agreement with the subject of the sentence, e.g. kayna bezzaf de-l-xedma There’s a lot of work (Harrell 1965, p. 201)

1 Note that in descriptions of North African Arabic dialects vowel length is usually not marked as it is not considered phonemic. In the textbook quoted, the letter e is used for convenience as notation of the phoneme /ə/. 110 otto jastrow

kaynin bezzaf de-n-nas hna l-yum There are a lot of people here today (Harrell 1965, p. 201)

1.2 Derived from OA *yakūn ‘he/it is’ OA *yakūn ‘he/it is’ is the etymology of the particle aku ‘there is’, with the negated form māku ‘there is not’, in Iraqi Arabic. This is one of the hallmarks of Iraqi Arabic which is in use in the whole of Iraq, irrespective of the so-called ‘qǝltu-gǝlǝt split’.2 Examples: aku baʿ ad faš-šī trīd agulla? (Baghdad, musl.) Is there anything else you would like me to tell him? (McCarthy 1965, p. 11)3 aku fad tāǧir min Naṣībīn (Baghdad, musl.) There is a merchant from Naṣībīn (McCarthy 1965, p. 116) w māku wāḥid yištirī (Baghdad, musl.) And there is nobody who would buy it (McCarthy 1965, p. 116) The derivation of aku from *yakūn is not as obvious as the case of kāyən and has been disputed by several scholars. Thus Werner Diem (1974) relates aku to a particle ak- found in Yemen, whereas Christa Müller- Kessler (2003) believes the etymon is an Aramaic particle ‘k’ or lyk’. There are, however, good reasons for the derivation proposed here. As first put forward in Jastrow 1981, p. 164, fn. 1, strong evidence for this etymology comes from a dialect belonging to Anatolian Arabic, thus situated outside Iraq on the fringes of the Mesopotamian Arabic dialect area. In Anatolian Arabic the usual word for ‘there is’ is fī or fīyu but in the dialect of Āzǝx we find the following forms: Present: kīkū, negated māku, ‘there is (not)’ Past: kāykū, negated mā-kāykū/ ‘there was (not)’ Examples from Āzəx: ḥaǧalǝ́ti ṣāḥǝt, ǧā ḥaǧal qataltū bass mā-qǝmtu\ mǝn asāri kī kīkū ḥaǧal-lax

2 For the qəltu-gələt split cf. Blanc 1964, 5 ff. 3 The transcription used in McCarthy has been edited by the present author. grammaticalizations based on the verb kāna 111

My partridge called, a male bird arrived and I killed it, but I did not get up from my place because there was another male bird ( Jastrow, unpublished) māku šī, m-īṭēqūn0 yāġzūn mənna šī There is nothing, they can’t take anything from her4 ( Jastrow 1981, p. 208) kāykū pīrət əlwəḥde, kālə́ha xams sətt wlād There was an old woman; she had five, six children ( Jastrow 1981, p. 204) w rəǧǧāl mā-kāykū] fə-lbayt And there was no man in the house ( Jastrow 1981, p. 192) The initial k- in kīkū is the present tense marker kū- (here reduced to k- because of the following vowel) which will be discussed in 2.2. Thus the underlying form is īkū which can be derived neatly from *yakūn: the inflectional prefix of the 3. pers. sg. m. imperfect in Āzǝx is usually ī-, eg., īqūl ‘he says’. In the verb kān the final –n is usually dropped: kā, īkū; therefore Āzǝx has a verb form īkū, with present tense marker kīkū ‘he is’, which latter form is identical with the verbum existentiae, kīkū ‘there is’. The negated form māku ‘there is not’ derives from *mā-īkū. This becomes obvious when compared with the corresponding past forms kāykū < *kān yakūn ‘there was’ and mā] -kāykū < *mā kān yakūn ‘there was not’. Whereas Āzǝx kīkū is a direct reflex of the etymon *yakūn, the Iraqi form aku (always with a short a) is not directly derived from *yakūn, and therefore has encouraged other etymological attempts, as mentioned above. The form aku can, however, be easily explained as a back formation from the negative māku in Iraqi Arabic, e.g., māku ‘there is not’ < *mā + aku. Consequently, aku is reconstructed as the positive form, ‘there is.’ It is remarkable that the forms derived from *kāʾin and *yakūn, respectively, for the verbum existentiae are found almost at the opposite ends of the Arabic language area whereas in the intervening regions other forms prevail, in particular those derived from two prepositions meaning ‘in’: fī ‘in’ + pronominal suffix of the 3. sg. m., thus *fīhi, *fīhu > fī, fīyu etc. bi- ‘in’+ pronominal suffix of the 3. sg. m., thus *bihi > bih, buh, bī etc.

4 Examples quoted from publications of the present author have been translated into English. The transcription may be slightly modified for the purpose of this paper. 112 otto jastrow

It is highly significant, therefore, that also the grammatical elements discussed under 2., namely the present tense markers, are found in the same two areas and are derived from the same two etymons.

2. Present Tense Markers

Present tense markers are morphemes which are prefixed to an imperfect in order to mark the action as present. There are two present tense markers derived from forms of the verb kāna.

2.1 Derived from OA *kāʾin ‘being’ OA *kāʾin is the etymology of the present tense marker kā- (written ka-) in Urban Moroccan Arabic. According to Harrell’s reference grammar of Moroccan Arabic the prefix ka- ‘indicates either an enduring state or a habitual or progressive action’ (Harrell 1962, p. 176). The first aspect is illustrated by the sentence ka-ibiʿ ṭ-ṭumubilat He sells cars (Harrell 1965, p. 123) the second one by the sentences aš ka-ddir hna? What are you doing here? (Harrell 1962, p. 176) huma ʿǝndi fǝ-d-daṛ ka-yaklu They are at my home, eating (Brunot 1962, p. 230)

2.2 Derived from OA *yakūn ‘he/it is’ OA *yakūn ‘he/it is’ is the etymological source of the present tense marker kū- in the dialects of Northern Iraq and Anatolia. Unlike kā- in Urban Moroccan Arabic, kū- always indicates a progressive action, whereas the general present (habitual or repeated) is not marked. Thus compare in the dialect of Kinderib (Anatolia): Progressive: kū-yǝnbǝšūn qabǝṛ They are digging a grave ( Jastrow 2003, p. 476) Habitual: yǝnbǝšūn ʿǝmq ǝlqabǝṛ mǝtǝr They (usually) dig the grave 1 m deep ( Jastrow 2003, p. 106) grammaticalizations based on the verb kāna 113

In Mesopotamian Arabic the verbum existentiae aku and the present tense marker kū- do not have the same geographic distribution. Whereas aku is found in all of Iraq, the present tense marker kū- is found only in parts of Northern Iraq, and in Anatolia, e.g.: aš kū-tǝftǝl ǝnta? ( Jewish dialect of ‘Aqra) What are you roaming around? ( Jastrow 1990, p. 198) ǝssaʿ kū-tǝṛīna fǝ-zya lḥāle wēǧa (Āzǝx) Now, however, you see (lit. are seeing) us in this condition ( Jastrow 1981, p. 194) In the Mosul area and in Central and Southern Iraq we rather find forms derived from the OA participle *qāʿid ‘sitting’, either the full form gāʿid or ǧāʿid which is invariable—thus already grammaticalized—or the shorter prefixes qa- or da- derived from them. In Morocco, the present tense marker kā- is competing with tā- in some areas but is rather widespread. Nevertheless the verbum existentiae kāyən has probably a larger distribution. Whereas in Mesopotamian Arabic there is usually a distinction between the general present and the progressive present (see the examples from Kinderib quoted above), in Moroccan Arabic the prefix kā- is used in both cases. It can thus be compared with the present marker bi- in Greater Syria which originally must have been created to express the ongoing action but later has been generalized as a present marker.

3. Past Tense Markers

The use of kāna to mark the past forms of both perfect and imperfect is already a feature of OA, e.g., kāna yaktubu ‘he used to write; he was writing’ kāna (qad) kataba ‘he had written’ In the above verbal phrases of OA, kāna functions as an auxiliary verb but is fully inflected, cf. the plural kānū yaktubūna ‘they used to write; they were writing’. This construction survives in some modern dialects while in others grammaticalization has occurred. 114 otto jastrow

3.1 Continuous Past Markers The OA verb phrase ‘kāna + imperfect’—e.g., kāna yaktubu ‘he used to write’ or ‘he was writing’—is reflected widely in the modern Arabic dialects. In Urban Moroccan Arabic the older construction with kān as an inflected auxiliary is still preserved, e.g., kanu ka-yaklu l-ḥǝmmǝṣ They were eating chickpeas (Brunot 1962, p. 230)5 In the qəltu dialects of Iraq and Anatolia kāna has usually been grammaticalized, either as an invariable kān or as verbal prefix ka-. Examples: fōq əlbāb kān fīyu qaḥwe, hawnake kān yǝqʿadūn əlqāṭərčīye (Mardin) Above the (town) gate was a café, there the muleteers used to sit ( Jastrow 1969, p. 46) ka-ysáwi ʿaskarīye, fə-ḥədūd əlṛūs (Kinderib) He was doing military service on the Russian border ( Jastrow 2003, p. 458) However, even in dialects where a grammaticalized form is the rule, a construction with an inflected auxiliary verb can occasionally be encountered, e.g., in Kinderib kǝnna nǝxbǝz ‘we were baking; we used to bake’, alongside the more common ka-nǝxbǝz.

3.2 Past Perfective and Remote Past Markers Three different constructions are used in Northern Iraq and Anatolia to express the past perfective and remote past of the verb.

3.2.1 In the main towns of the area, e.g., Mardin, Siirt and Mosul, invariable kǝn- ~ kǝl-6 preceding the perfect is used to express a past perfective, e.g.,

ǝlxǝddām-ze kǝl-qǝʿǝd ǧawwāt ǝlqǝbbāle (Mardin) The servant has sat down in the wall niche ( Jastrow 2008, p. 229) kəl-məsəknāk əllā dənwaddīk (Siirt)

5 Obviously, the existence of a present tense marker kā- (see 2.1. above) precluded the reduction of inflected kān to a homonymous morpheme for marking the past tense. 6 The variant kǝl- (more frequent than kǝn-) is a back formation from forms in which the final –n of kǝn- was assimilated to the first radical of the verb, e.g. kǝt-talaʿ < *kǝn-talaʿ, kǝḏ̣-ḏ̣ǝḥǝk, kǝṛ-ṛāḥ. By analogy to the definite article ǝl- the prefix was reconstructed as kǝl-. grammaticalizations based on the verb kāna 115

We have caught you and we shall take you with us by all means ( Jastrow 1981, p. 222) kən-ṯaġamna llaḥəm, nəxsəl əlġəzz, w nǧīb hāḏa llaḥəm nəxlə́ṭu (Mosul, musl.) We have chopped up the meat, (now) we wash the rice, and we take (lit. bring) the meat and mix it ( Jastrow 1979, p. 66) Invariable kān or kā- preceding the past perfective is used to express the remote past, e.g., nhāṛ ǝlwēḥǝd kān kǝṛ-ṛǝḥna la-ṣṣayd (Mardin) Once (one day) we had gone hunting ( Jastrow 2008, p. 229) kā-kəl-qatalu axū, w kā-kəl-haṛṛbu maṛt axū (Siirt) They had killed his brother and kidnapped his brother’s wife ( Jastrow 1981, p. 220)

3.2.2 In Āzǝx and the Siirt villages in Anatolia as well as in the Jewish dialects of ‘Aqra and Arbīl in Northern Iraq the past perfective is expressed by means of the same prefix kū- (2.2.) which, prefixed to the imperfect of the verb, functions as a present tense marker, e.g., kū-ǧītu ʿǝndǝk (Āzəx) I have come to you ( Jastrow 1981, p. 172) kū-qaṭaf əlʿənəb (Ḥalanze—Siirt villages) He has harvested the grapes ( Jastrow 1981, p. 270) ǝlpawēlīṣ sǝmʿu, kū-ḍarabna gulla ( Jewish dialect of Arbīl) The policemen heard that we had (lit.: have) fired a bullet ( Jastrow 1990, p. 226)

3.2.3 A different system is found in the Mḥallami dialects, e.g., Kinderib, where a prefix kūt- is used to express the past perfective, and kāt- to express the remote past, e.g., waḷḷa ǝlbǝnt mō-dbayyǝn, kūt-haṛabǝt (Kinderib) The girl does not show up, she has run away ( Jastrow 2003, p. 488) kān fī wēḥəd, mən ṣawb šarq kān, ənnawb kāt-wəqəʿ fə-lḥabs (Kinderib) There was a man, he was from the east, (and) he had ended up in prison ( Jastrow 2003, p. 482) The origin of the final -t in kūt- and kāt- has not been explained with cer- tainty so far; for a possible explanation see Jastrow 1978, 308. 116 otto jastrow

4. Conditional Conjunctions

In modern Arabic dialects the OA conditional phrase ʾin kāna “if he was/ were” has given rise to a new conditional particle, used both in real and unreal conditional sentences: inkān ~ kān ~ čān ~ ćān ‘if ’. These forms are widespread and need not be documented here. In the Mḥallami dialects of Anatolian Arabic, however, two different conditional conjunctions have been derived from the imperfect yakūn:

4.1 *yakūn > ykūn is used as the conditional conjunction ‘if ’ in the irrealis, e.g., ykūn ǧǝbta mǝn kēfa, w mō bǝ-zzōṛ harrabta, mā kattǝhṛǝb (Kinderib) If you had brought her by her consent, and not kidnapped her by force, she would not have run away ( Jastrow 2003, p. 488)

4.2 With an additional future prefix tə-, *tə-ykūn yields the conditional conjunction tīkūn ‘if ’ which is used for the realis, e.g., tīkūn tǝqlǝqīn taqtǝlki (Kinderib) If you (f.) make a move I’ll kill you ( Jastrow 2003, p. 486)

5. Interrogative Pronouns

Finally, the verb form *yakūn has been used in two different areas of the Arab world to create new interrogative pronouns. The construction *ayš yakūn has yielded two semantically opposed forms:

5.1 aškūn ~ škun7 ‘who’ is widespread in the Maghreb8 and always refers to humans, e.g., škun had ṛṛažel? (Urban Moroccan) Who is this man? (Harrell 1965, p. 202) In verbal sentences it frequently takes the forms škun əlli, e.g., škun ǝlli šǝfti (Urban Moroccan) Whom did you see? (Harrell 1962, p. 144)

7 Pronounced āškūn, škūn (see note 1). 8 Cf. Marçais 1977, p. 200. grammaticalizations based on the verb kāna 117

The most common question word for non-humans is aš9 ‘what’, e.g., aš derti? ‘What did you do?’ (Harrell 1962, p. 145)

5.2 Contrary to its use in the Maghreb, áškūn ~ škūn which is found only in Northeastern Syria as škūn (Khātūnīye, Dēr izZōr) and in Jewish Baghdadi as áškūn always refers to non-humans and is translated as ‘what’, e.g., škūn issālfe (Dēr izZōr) What is the story? ( Jastrow 1978, p. 115) škūn trīd? (Khātūnīya) What do you want? (Talay 1999, p. 62) aškūn, mǧanīn? ( Jewish Baghdadi) What? (Are they) crazy? (Mansour 1991, p. 232) ḥaxām, hāyi aškūn hāyi? ( Jewish Baghdadi) Ḥaxām (rabbi), what is this? (Mansour 1991, p. 271) To sum up: This paper which is a modest tribute to my distinguished colleague and friend, Prof. Bruce Ingham, tries to show the manifold grammatical and syntactic uses to which grammaticalized forms of kāna—yakūnu have been put throughout the Arabic-speaking world. There are striking parallel developments in the Arab east (Mesopotamia) and the Maghreb but there are also surprising differences, e.g., the opposite meanings of the interrogative pronouns harking back to *ayš yakūn.

References

Blanc, Haim. 1964. Communal Dialects in Baghdad. Cambridge (Mass.). Harvard University Press. Brunot, Louis. ‘Appendix—Texts in Urban Moroccan Arabic’. In: Harrell 1962. Diem, Werner. 1974. ‘A historical interpretation of Iraqi Arabic aku “there is’’ ’. Orbis 23, 448–453. Harrell, Richard S. 1962. A short reference grammar of Moroccan Arabic. Washington D.C. Georgetown University Press. ——. 1965. A basic course in Moroccan Arabic. Washington D.C. Georgetown University Press. Jastrow, Otto. 1969. ‘Arabische Textproben aus Mardin und Āzǝx’. Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 119, 29–59.

9 Pronounced āš (see note 1). 118 otto jastrow

——. 1978. Die mesopotamisch-arabischen qǝltu-Dialekte. Bd. I: Phonologie und Morpholo- gie, Abhandlungen für die Kunde des Morgenlandes 43,4. Wiesbaden. Steiner. ——. 1979. ‘Zur arabischen Mundart von Mossul’. Zeitschrift für Arabische Linguistik 2, 36–76. ——. 1981. Die mesopotamisch-arabischen qǝltu-Dialekte. Bd. II: Volkskundliche Texte in elf Dialekten, Abhandlungen für die Kunde des Morgenlandes 46,1. Wiesbaden. Steiner. ——. 1990. Der arabische Dialekt der Juden von ‘Aqra und Arbīl. Semitica Viva 5. Wiesba- den. Harrassowitz. ——. 2003. Arabische Texte aus Kinderib. Semitica Viva 30. Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz. ——. 2008. ‘Árabe de Anatolia’. In: Federico Corriente y Ángeles Vincente (eds.), Manual de dialectología neoarabe. Zaragoza. Instituto de Estudios Islámicos y del Próximo Ori- ente, 213–233. Jastrow, Otto and Wolfdietrich Fischer (eds.). 1980. Handbuch der arabischen Dialekte. Porta linguarum orientalium N.S. XVI. Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz. Mansour, Jacob. 1991. The Jewish Baghdadi Dialect. Or-Yehuda: Babylonian Jewry Heritage Center. Marçais, Philippe. 1977. Esquisse grammaticale de l’arabe maghrébin. Paris. Librairie d’Amérique et d’Orient. McCarthy, R.J. and Faraj Raffouli. 1965. Spoken Arabic of Baghdad, Part Two (A). Beirut. Librairie Orientale. Müller-Kessler, Christa. 2003. ‘Aramaic ‘k’, lyk’ and Iraqi Arabic ‘aku, māku. The Mesopota- mian Particles of Existence’. Journal of the American Oriental Society 123, 633–638. Talay, Shabo. 1999. Der arabische Dialekt der Khawētna. I: Grammatik. Semitica Viva 21. Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz. Texts in Sinai Bedouin dialects

Rudolf de Jong

This contribution presents two texts in transcription and translation recorded from two speakers of two different Bedouin tribes in Sinai: the Taṛābīn of Nwēbiʿ (Nuweiba) on the Gulf of ʿAqabah and the ʿLēgāt near Sarābīṭ alXādim on the Gulf of Suez. The texts are an illustration of the type of differences that are found between dialects in Sinai. The dialect of the Taṛābīn of Nwēbiʿ can be characterized as a typical group I dialect (see De Jong 2000 and 2011), but shows a number of influences from the dialect of the Mzēnih (group VI in ibid. 2011), who are their direct neighbours to the south. Tuṛbāniy of Nwēbiʿ is much like the dialect type described in Haim Blanc 1970. The dialect of the ʿLēgāt has been characterized as intermediate between the larger group of dialects spoken in southern Sinai (group VI in De Jong 2011) and the dialects of group I that lie to the north of the escarpment of the Tīh Plateau. Together with most other dialects in Sinai, these two dialects have been concluded to form part of Palva’s (1991) larger group of Northwest Arabian dialects.

Dialects of Sinai

“Dialects of Sinai” is often used in collective reference to the Bedouin dialects of this desert. After Heikki Palva had published his article “Is there a North West Arabian Dialect Group?” in 1991, research has shown that, notwithstanding a number of differences, we can indeed also in Sinai speak of such a group of northwestern Bedouin Arabic dialects with a relative degree of homogeneity. In De Jong 2000 and 2011, all of Sinai’s dialects were concluded to be of this Northwestern Bedouin type (henceforth NWA), with the notable exceptions of the (sedentary) urban dialect of the capital of North Sinai alʿArīš and the—also Bedouin, but of the Nağdiy type—dialect of the pariah tribe of fishermen on the Bardawīl Lagoon in the central north, the Dawāġrah. The major characteristics distinguishing the dialect of alʿArīš from its surrounding Bedouin dialects are those that are more generally used to distinguish sedentary dialects from Bedouin dialects, although ʿArayšiy 120 rudolf de jong does also show a few Bedouin characteristics, like for instance its g reflex for *q.1 The dialect of the Dawāġrah shows some characteristics, which are strongly reminiscent of Bedouin dialects of the Nağd. One of the most prominent of these is ‘Nağdi resyllabification’,2 which reshapes strings like ḥaṭab + ah as ḥṭubah “a piece of firewood”, samak + ah as smikah “a fish”, and (after resyllabification of the gahawah-syndrome has been executed)3 naxaḷ + ah as nxaḷah for “date palm”. In morphology, another salient characteristic setting Dwēġriy apart from its NWA speaking neighbours is the final -n in the imperfect forms of the 2nd p. fem. sg., the 2nd and 3rd p. masc. pl.4 The major concentrations of isoglosses found in northern Sinai are the bundle found between the sedentary dialect of alʿArīš and that of the Sawārkah,5 and the isogloss bundle found between the dialect of the Dawāġrah and that of the Bayyāḏiyyah.! 6 The major isogloss bundles separating dialects of southern Sinai (presented as groups VI, VII and VIII in De Jong 2011) from those of group I (in central and northern Sinai, see ibid. and in 2000) largely coincide with a prominent geophysical feature of the landscape: the escarpment of the central Tīh Plateau which lies to the north of the mountainous southern tip of the Peninsula.7 In a larger dialect-geographical context, the hypothesis remains that the Northwestern group of Bedouin dialects stretches south on the Ara- bian Peninsula along the Red Sea into the Ḥiǧāz. The question is whether this is indeed the case, and if so, how far? The presence of NWA in southern Jordan, the Negev Desert and the Sinai Desert has been established, and the southwestern border of this group is hypothesized to be in the Eastern Desert of Egypt, where the dīrah of the Maʿāzah borders on that

1 Other characteristics of ʿArayšiy shared with the NWA-type may be found in De Jong 2000:575. Ibid. 576–580 lists a greater number of differences between ʿArayšiy and NWA dialects. 2 A string of the type CaCaCV (where C is any consonant and V is any long or short vowel) is resyllabified to become CCvCV (where v is a if its preceding consonant is a guttural spirant (x, ġ, ḥ, ʿ or h), u if it is in a velarised or labial environment, and i in otherwise neutral environments). See also Ingham 1986:276 and “Najdi Arabic” in EALL 2008 (Vol. III). 3 The ‘gahawah-syndrome’, named so in Blanc 1970:125–127. See also “Gahawa- syndrome” in EALL 2007 (Vol. II). 4 Other characteristics of Dwēġriy may be found in De Jong 2000: chapter IV. 5 See fn 1 above. 6 See De Jong 2000:653 (Map 00) and 605. 7 See De Jong 2011:380 (isogloss bundles numbers 13, 14, 16, 20, 24, and 28 in map 0). texts in sinai bedouin dialects 121 of the ʿAbābdah, who live to the south of the line Quṣayr—Qufṭ, and who have been concluded to speak a dialect of the Sudanese type.8 In this contribution, two stories of the NWA-type of dialects are presented. The stories illustrate some of the characteristics found in NWA dialects of group I in the centre of Sinai. The first story was recorded from the mouth of šēx ʿŠēš of the Taṛābīn of Nwēbiʿ,9 son of the greatest poet of Sinai, ʿNēz Aḅuw Sālim, who passed away some years ago. In his story, šēx ʿŠēš relates the adventures of an English Governor of Sinai and some of the difficulties he experienced to adapt to local Bedouin customs. The second story provides some good advice in the form of wise sayings and was told by a member of the ʿLēgāt from Sarābīṭ alXādim,10 in the central western part of Sinai. The dialect type in which the first story was told has been classified as Group I (in De Jong 2011), a group of dialects of central Sinai and the dialect of the Negev Bedouin (the Ḏullām,& as described in Blanc 1970). Since the tribal area of the Taṛābīn of Nwēbiʿ borders on that of the Mzēnih of southern Sinai, and contacts between these two tribes are regular, we may note a number of influences in ʿŠēš’s speech which must have resulted from dialect contact of his Tuṛbāniy dialect with that of the Mzēnih. The dialect of the second story has been classified as a separate group (VIII) in De Jong 2011, since typologically it occupies a middle position between dialect group VII of southern Sinai and group I of central Sinai.11 The speaker of the text in Tuṛbāniy dialect below is being interviewed by ʿĪd Silīm ʿĪd ʿAwdah al-aṭraš, who is also Tuṛbāniy,12 but of the Taṛābīn of Ṛās Ṣadr,13 some 45 kilometres to the south-southeast of Suez on the Gulf of Suez. Since the two branches of the Taṛābīn are reported to be of the same origin,14 and have split to their respective dīrahs in the

8 See Woidich and Behnstedt 1980:176 and De Jong 2002:358. 9 The name of the town is usually transcribed as Nuweiba on maps and on road signs. 10 Sarābīṭ alXādim (often transcribed as Serabit el-Khadim) is the site of the ancient Egyptian Temple of Hathor, its turquoise mines and graffiti in Proto-Sinaitic script, and thus attracts many tourists. 11 For more detail on the intermediate position of the dialect of the ʿLēgāt, see De Jong 2011:312–314. 12 ʿĪd is of the Gṣār clan, for a tribal genealogy of the Taṛābīn see Bailey 1991:290. 13 Ṛās Ṣadr usually appears as Ras Sudr on maps and road signs. 14 The Taṛābīn claim descent from the Bugūm of the southern Ḥiǧāz, see Holes and Abu Athera 2009:62 [fn 4] and 66 [fn 67]. Other sources report that their name derives from Wādiy at-Tarabah or a town by that name, located to the northwest of aṭ-Ṭāʾif in present- day Saudi Arabia (see aṭ-Ṭayyib 1993:554–564), which is also in the southern Ḥiǧāz. The northern branch of the Taṛābīn inside Sinai, and other branches currently found in neighbouring countries are not discussed here. 122 rudolf de jong eastern and western parts of the central Sinai (see map below) only relatively recently,15 and although the two Tuṛbāniy dialects are today spoken in areas about—as the crow flies—200 kilometres apart, their common origin is still apparent.16 Differences are mainly in features like the limited17 use in Tuṛbāniy of Nwēbiʿ of the apocopated 2nd p. sg. masc. imperative and imperfect forms, and in word stress (see further below). In nominal morphology, the Tuṛbāniy dialect of Nwēbiʿ sometimes also shows forms of personal pronominals18 which were also heard in the dialect of the Mzēnih.19

A Note on Transcription

In the texts below anaptyctic vowels are indicated as ə (irrespective of their phonetic value).20 Hesitations, like “ehm”, are indicated as ə:. The conjunction w and prepositions l and b are written separately (i.e. they are not connected to the following word). So-called “bukaṛa”-vowels21 are indicated in superscript. In the ʿLēgiy text, a superscript u is used to indicate strong velarization accompanying the 2nd p. sg. masc. pronominal suffix, as in šāríbuḳ “your lip”. Prosodic lengthening of vowels is indicated by a

15 Bailey 1985:25 reports that the Taṛābīn arrived in Sinai in the sixteenth century and that until the eighteenth century they occupied the central part of Sinai, after which one section (who are now here referred to as Taṛābīn of Nwēbiʿ) moved south-east into the territory of the Mzēnah, Wḥaydāt, Ğbāṛāt and another section (now Taṛābīn of Rās Sadr) moved west into the territory of the ʿAyāydah. In fact, up to this day, it is said (by sources in the field) that the Taṛābīn of Nwēbiʿ live in their area at the coast of the Gulf of ʿAqabah with permission of the Aḥaywāt, who still regard this land (between al-Wāsiṭ in Nwēbiʿ and the Fjord, an inlet some 10km to the southeast of Ṭāba) as theirs. 16 The relative typological proximity due to the common origin of these two Tuṛbāniy dialects is illustrated in e.g. Multi Dimensional Scaling plots and a dendrogram in De Jong 2011:373–375 (the abbreviations used are: for Tuṛbāniy of Rās Sadr TAS, and for Tuṛbāniy of Nwēbiʿ TAN). 17 See ibid.:258–259. Here labeled as ‘limited’, since the use of apocopated imperatives and imperfects for the 2nd p. sg. masc. of tertiae infirmae verbs is much more regular in dialects of (bordering) groups VI and VII. 18 Notably huwwa as the independent pronominal occasionally used in Tuṛbāniy of Nwēbiʿ for the 3rd p. pl. masc., see De Jong 2011:238. 19 For a more detailed description of the differences and shared characteristics of these dialects, see De Jong 2011:chapter III. 20 For a description of the phonetic quality of anaptyctic vowels in this dialect, see De Jong 2000:128–131. The conjunction əw (i.e. when w is preceded by the anaptyctic vowel) will often sound like (monophtongized and reduced) u. 21 See “Bukaṛa-syndrome” in EALL 2006 (Vol. I). texts in sinai bedouin dialects 123

Map 1. Approximate distribution of Bedouin tribes in Sinai and surrounding regions. Map in De Jong 2011:372 (free after Bailey 1991 and 2009). 124 rudolf de jong colon following the vowel (v + :). Velarization which cannot be directly (or easily) attributed to primary or secondary consonantal emphatics in the same word is indicated by a dot under the vowel (e.g. ạ̄ for IPA [ɑ:]), or under the consonant, as in e.g. -kuw. Also, a heavily velarized hāḏa$ “this (sg. masc.)” is current in these dialects. Unclear passages are indicated between square brackets [ and ]. Speech pause is indicated as . . .

Text: The English Governor

A Tuṛbāniy speaker from Nwēbiʿ (ʿŠ) is interviewed by (ʿĪ), who is a Tuṛbāniy from Rās Sadr

1) (ʿĪ) w Aḷḷāhiy . . . alyōm ğītak . . . (ʿŠ) ḥayyāk Aḷḷah . . . (ʿĪ) ətxarrifnī� ́ ʿan xuṛṛāf min xarārīf atTaṛābīn . . . alkalamāt alʾaṣliyyih . . . 2) (ʿŠ) eywa-ḷḷah w Aḷḷah yḥayyīk yā ṛabb . . . xarārīf haddinyih kaṯīrih . . . (ʿĪ) kaṯīrih . . . yā-ḅuw . . . yā ʿŠēš intah . . . min mawālīd wēn inwalatt22 wēn? 3) (ʿŠ) ana-nwalatt fi . . . azZálagah23 . . . fi wād- ísəmha zZálagah fowg. (ʿĪ) wādiy zZálagah . . . wādiy zZálagah . . . w alḥīn ʿindak kam sanah? (ʿŠ) alḥīn ʿindī� ́ sabʿah w arbiʿīn . . . (ʿĪ) sabʿah w arbiʿīn . . . (ʿŠ) naʿam . . . 4) (ʿĪ) əw ṭūl ḥayātak ištaġalt ēš? aw f-awwil24 ḥayātak ištaġalt ēš? (ʿŠ) ṛāʿiy bil w Aḷḷah sāḥbak ṛāʿiy bil . . . (ʿĪ) ṛāʿiy bil . . . (ʿŠ) ey w alʿawn w Aḷḷah ṛāʿ- álbil . . . ilā sanát . . . arbaʿ əw ṯamānīn . . . w ana ṛāʿiy bil . . . (ʿĪ) w intah ṛāʿiy bil . . . 5) (ʿŠ) naʿam . . . əw minnah nizilt almidīnih hniyyāniy25 . . . (ʿĪ) nizilt almidīnih hniyyih . . . (ʿŠ) hmmm . . . taṭawwarna . . . 6) (ʿĪ) əw sawwēt al . . . almxayyam . . . (ʿŠ) əw suwwēt almxayyam . . . 26 w ištaġalt əmʿ assiyāḥah ʿād, əmʿ assuwwāḥ . . .

22 inwalatt: assimilated < inwaladt. 23 Wādiy az-Zalagah runs towards the south from coordinates (appr.) 28.53.12 North and 34.01.14 East, and more or less east-northeast from that same point, see Google Earth. The interviewer (ʿĪ) copies word stress here from his interlocutor; stress in the interviewer’s own dialect would actually be azZalágah. 24 f-awwil: the vowel of the preposition fi is dropped when it clashes with a following vowel. Other examples are: f-alʿIrīš “in al-Arish” and f-īdak “in your hand”. 25 The suffix –āniy is typical of dialects of group I in the northeast of Sinai and also in the Negev, see De Jong 2000:175–177, Stewart 1990:5 (text 1) fn 25 and Blanc 1970:35 (146). 26 The speaker owns and runs a tourist camp (named ‘Kumkum Shalosh’, Hebrew for “kettle 3”) at Ṛās ašŠayṭān on the coast to the north of Nwēbiʽ. texts in sinai bedouin dialects 125

7) (ʿĪ) maʿ assuwwāḥ . . . w ēš istafatt27 əmn assuwwāḥ? (ʿŠ) w Aḷḷah ista- fadna ḥāğāt əgḷayylih w Aḷḷāhiy awwalhin gillt álḥaya . . . 8) (ʿĪ) hēḏiy ṛasmiy . . . w Aḷḷāhiy hawạ̄k innī�28́ txarrifnī . . . fi giṣṣah . . . (ʿŠ) hmmm . . . (ʿĪ) giṣṣt alIngilīziy fi rriḥlah ʿala lbiʿīr, lamma ḏarra$ ṭ Aḷḷāh yíkərmak əw yíkərm assāmʿīn. 9) w ətxarrifnī� ́ ʿala lgiṣṣah aṯṯānyih, giṣṣt attanğīr . . . (ʿŠ) ạ̄: . . . (ʿĪ) w itxarrifnī� ́ lay xuṛṛāfah fi ḥayāt atTaṛābīn əw kēf, w əblādhuṃ əw . . . 10) (ʿŠ) naʿam naʿam . . . w Aḷḷāh atTaṛābīn min ḏimən$ gibāyil Sīna kullhuṃ ʿala ṛāsna w ʿala ʿaynna . . . ğīṛānna w ahálna . . . əw halḥīn . . . hēḏiy giṣṣah ə: . . . xarrafnī� ́ bha ššāyib w Aḷḷah yarḥamah, alwālid . . . (ʿĪ) Aḷḷāh yarḥamah . . . 11) (ʿŠ) ey w Aḷḷāh . . . awwal ma ğaw alIngilīz daxalow Sīna min naḥyit Maṣər . . . fāhim? (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . (ʿŠ) əw ə: . . . əw ğaw ʿa lʿIrīš . . . (ʿĪ) əw ğaw ʿa lʿIrīš . . . 12) (ʿŠ) naʿam . . . hēḏiy fīh giṣṣah . . . b annisbah lay ʾana . . . yaʿniy ə: . . . yimkin wağattha29 halḥīn baʿad ma fitaḥna ttasğīl . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . 13) (ʿŠ) muhimmah30 ğiddan b annisbah lay əw b annisbah la kull ə: . . . gibāyil Sīnih . . . (ʿĪ) w Aḷḷāh əkwayyis . . . (ʿŠ) fāhim? miš bass Taṛābīn əw bass, iḥna kullna xwạ̄n Taṛābīn w Aḥaywāt əw Ṭawára‌ʾ əw kullha . . . əw . . . əw kullha-hálna w nāsna . . . ə: . . . (ʿĪ) zēn . . . 14) (ʿŠ) ʾə: . . . alIngilīziy . . . awwal ma daxal . . . alʿIrīš, ṭabʿan alʿIrīš mā kān balad ġayrha fi Sīna kullha hēḏiy . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . (ʿŠ) hī hálbalad . . .31 (ʿĪ) zayy alʿāṣmih . . . (ʿŠ) ạ̄ zayy alʿāṣmah . . . hī baga manṭigah32 ṣaḥara kullha . . .

27 istafatt: assimilated < istafadt. 28 The speaker’s intention may have been to say something like hawāy innak ətxarrifnī . . . which is what is reflected in the translation. The construction with hawā (or perhaps to be transcribed as hawạ̄k) is reminiscent of the use of suffixed widd, as in e.g. widdak ətxarrifnī . . . “you need to tell me . . .”, for a remark on this use of widd expressing necessity from the speaker’s perspective, see De Jong 2000:239. 29 wağattha, assimilated < wağadtha. 30 muhimmah: a loan (probably from MSA or Cairene), hence not syllabicized as əmhimmah. 31 The prefixed deictic element ha- occurs in Tuṛbāniy of Nwēbiʽ, but is less current in the Tuṛbāniy dialect of Ṣadr. In my own recordings of the dialect of Ṣadr it only occurrs in halḥīn “now”. 32 mánṭigah: notice that high vowel elision (and possibly anaptyxis) do not take place in this form (hence not * manṭgah or mánəṭgah). This could be due to n and t being homo-organic (comparable to this: the name of the Dutch capital Amsterdam is usually pronounced in Cairene dialect as Aməstirdām (s and t being homo-organic as well) instead of *Amsətirdām, the latter of which would be more in line with the anaptyxis rule for Cairene Arabic). On the other hand, it could also be a loan from Egyptian (i.e. Cairo) 126 rudolf de jong

15) əw baʿadēn daxal alIngilīziy alIngilīziy ə: . . . kān fi ṛāsih əfkāṛ fi šŠarg alAwṣaṭ ṭabʿan33 maʿarūf . . . tagsīm əw mā tagsīm əw tadwīl əw mā tadwīl əw ʿazl əw mā ʿazəl . . . 16) fa ṭabʿan ğa‌ʾ alIngilīziy . . . ə: . . . gāṃ alIngilīziy . . . lamm almašạ̄wix fi ššamāl, f-alʿIrīš . . . (ʿĪ) f-alʿIrīš . . . (ʿŠ) naʿam . . . (ʿĪ) mašạ̄yix algabạ̄yil . . . (ʿŠ) mašạ̄wx algabạ̄yil, gabạ̄yil Sīnih . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . 17) (ʿŠ) ạ̄ . . . gāḷ əlhúṃ yā mašạ̄wix iḥna . . .34 ʿāwzīn . . . ənsāʿidkuw w əndawwil Sīnih . . . (ʿĪ) w əydawwluw Sīnih . . . (ʿŠ) ạ̄ . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . (ʿŠ) ma hū kān attagsīmāt šaġġāḷah . . . (ʿĪ) šaġġāḷ-ạ̄ . . . 18) (ʿŠ) ə: . . . almuhiṃṃ ğaw lmašạ̄wix ṭabʿan intah ʿārif 35 haḏāk$ alḥīn əw la ġāyit halḥīn fi baʿaḏ$ aləḥyān aġḷabīyt almašạ̄wix . . . nās ə: . . . yaʿniy fi lʿilm . . . mā taʿallamow . . . (ʿĪ) mā taʿallamow . . . 19) (ʿŠ) ạ̄ taʿallamuw yaʿniy ḥikmit ḥayāh aw . . . (ʿĪ) taʿallamow . . . (ʿŠ) [tí] ğərbit ḥayāh lākin mā taʿallamow kitābāt iw . . . giṛāyāt yaʿniy . . . (ʿĪ) taʿallamow min alḥayāh . . . (ʿŠ) əmn alḥayāh . . . (ʿĪ) w əmmāṛasah . . . 20) (ʿŠ) hmmm . . . gāṃ36 alIngilīziy . . . lammhuṃ, əw gaʿádow f-alʿIrīš əw ğābhuṃ əw baʿadēn . . . gāḷ əlhuṃṃa mīn ilmitʿallim? [a]lliy ʿindih ʿilm . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . 21) (ʿŠ) ṭabʿan alaġaḷabīyah miš mitʿallmih . . . gāḷ wāḥid əSwērkiy, ʿala ma aḏinn$ ana mā-driy ʿannah hū min asSuwārkih bass mā-driy ʿannah min ʿāylit mīn . . . gāḷ aná mitʿallim . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . 22) ğābah alIngilīziy w ligīh linnah rağil mitʿallim . . . (ʿĪ) əkwayyis . . . (ʿŠ) gāḷ ṭayyib ásmaʿow . . . ma dām arrağğāl hāḏa mitʿallim . . . ana-xallīh hū . . . almḥāfiḏ$ ʿalēḳuw . . . badalī� . . . ́ (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . .. 23) (ʿŠ) w iḥna yimkin narḥal əw baʿad kiḏiyyān intuw tabga lḳuw mḥāfiḏ$ minḳuw . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . (ʿŠ) əw ziʿīm minḳuw . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . (ʿŠ) əw ṛayyis minḳuw w ənhayyiʾḳuw innḳuw tabgow dawlih . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . .

Arabic (manṭí’ah), with phonological adaptation; g for Cairene ’ (Classical Arabic *q) and use of the máktaba stress pattern (which is current almost throughout Sinai). 33 ṭabʿan: in this case and also in other instances, the ṭ is produced with a degree of glottalisation when it is followed by a vowel: ṭ’abʿan. Other examples in this text include manṭ’igah (sent. 24), ṭ’iliʿ (sent. 28) and more. 34 iḥna: the initial vowel is in this instance actually near [a], but can in other instances, due to its higher realization, safely be interpreted as an allophone of /i/. I have therefore chosen to transcribe /i/, also in this instance. 35 ʿārif: the long ā is realised quite high: [æ:], or just below [ɛ:] when velarisation is absent and i follows in the next syllable, even when it has been dropped like in the example twāfguw (see below in sent. 23). 36 gāṃ: here used as a verbal particle (a grammaticalized verb form since it remains unconjugated for gender and number) indicating ingressiveness (or inchoative aspect) of the action expressed in the following verb (here lamm), see remark in De Jong 2000:231– 232. texts in sinai bedouin dialects 127

24) (ʿŠ) almašạ̄wix ṭabʿan intah ʿārif alqabaliyyāt w alʿunsuriyyāt hēḏiy míšəklih kibīrih . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . (ʿŠ) gāḷ yā mašạ̄wix šūfuw ḥālḳuw . . . kān ətwāfguw, axall-arrağğāl hāḏa ismah Salmān, əSwērkiy hāḏa$ ʾismah Salmān . . . gāḷ axallīh . . . əmḥāfiḏ$ ʿa lmanṭigah . . . badalī� . . . ẃ ana-kūn aʿṭīḳuw ə: . . . 25) ṭabʿan almašạ̄wix gāḷaw ē:h? kēf əSwērkiy yṣīr ʿalēna mḥāfiḏ . . .?$ (ʿĪ) mā tanfaʿ . . . (ʿŠ) mā hatanfaʿ ʿind albidwáʾ . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . 26) (ʿŠ) wadd-arrğāl hāt arrğāl gāḷaw la‌ʾ . . . mā yṣīr . . . gāḷ xalāṣ mā yṣīr aná lmḥāfiḏ . . . sībuw$ lḳuw min Salmān əw . . . xallnī� ́ aná lmḥāfiḏ$ w intuw zayy ma-gullḳuw37 . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . 27) (ʿŠ) fāhim? gāḷow xalāṣ intah lmḥāfiḏ$ wala Salmān . . . alqabaliyyāt ə: . . . lēha ta‌ʾsīr38 (ʿĪ) lāzim ạ̄ . . . (ʿŠ) min gillt alʿiləm lah taʾsīr‌ kibīrih . . . (ʿĪ) gillt alʿilm alliy mlaggiy bēhuṃ waṛáʾ . . . 28) (ʿŠ) ạ̄ . . . ilmihimm yā ṣāḥbī� . . . alḿ ḥāfiḏ . . . $ ṭíliʿ Nixəl, anNixəl hēḏiy kānit gariyih39 . . . barḏak$ maʿaṛūfah fīha qalʿah . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . (ʿŠ) gidīmih . . . (ʿĪ) galʿit Nixəl . . . (ʿŠ) galʿit Nixəl . . . w áğtimaʿ . . . ğāb almišạ̄wix əw ğimaʿhuṃ fi Nixəl . . . 29) (ʿŠ) ğamaʿ almišạ̄wix gāḷ yā mišạ̄wix . . .40 intuw ə: . . . dáxal ʿinduḳuw ḥarāmiyyih-ṯnēn . . . f-almanṭigah . . . (ʿĪ) daxáḷ41 haṛāmiyyih-ṯnēn . . . 30) (ʿŠ) hmmm . . . wāḥid abyaḏ$ əw wāḥid aswad . . . əw yā mišạ̄wix alliy yaʿárf alḥaṛāmiyyah-ṯnēn hāḏō:ḷ ana baʿtíbirah42 ṛāğil šēx . . . biyaf- ham . . . aw ḥakīm . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . .

37 When the verb gāl, ygūl is enclitically suffixed with the preposition l + pron. suffix, the long vowel tends to be shortened. 38 Since both varieties of Tuṛbāniy Arabic have interdentals in their phoneme inventory, taʾsīr‌ is best interpreted as a loan, probably from MSA via Cairene (therefore sīn for ṯāʾ, cf. MSA ta‌ʾṯīr). 39 gariyih: y is pronounced with a degree of delay < garyih. 40 mišạ̄wix: the i of the first syllable is somewhere near IPA [ə]. 41 dáxal and daxál illustrate a difference in placing stress in CvCvC sequences, i.e. ‘underlying’ |CaCaC| (e.g. katab), |CaCiC| (e.g. širib) and |CaCuC| (e.g. ġuluḏ$ ). De Jong 2011:217 (and 389—map 14 in the appendix), however, reports stress pattern for both dialects as Cv́CvC, which is a generalisation of the majority of forms heard Tuṛbāniy of Sadr (the area in map 14 should have been coloured in both pink and yellow, though, to indicate such variation). 42 baʿtíbirah instead of baʿtíbrah: here the bukaṛa-syndrome prevents elision of the (underlined) short high vowel, see remarks in De Jong 2000:115. Notice also that the a of the morphophonemic base (as in |aʿtabir|), does not ‘reappear’ in a closed syllable, when the affix is not a verbal suffix, as opposed to ‘reappearance’ of a in forms with a verbal suffix, e.g. yiʿtibir + -uw produces a surface form yiʿtabruw “they consider”, see remark in De Jong 2011:262. 128 rudolf de jong

31) (ʿŠ) almišạ̄wix43 wāḥid iswid wāḥid abyaḏ$ əw wāḥid mīn min hū wāḥid iswid əw wāḥid abyaḏ?$ almuhimm kān fīh šēx ismah Ḥamd ibən ʿĀmir Aḷḷāh yarḥamah . . . (ʿĪ) Aḷḷāh yarḥamah . . . 32) (ʿŠ) mi tTayāha . . . ṛağil ə: . . . bəygūluw-nnah ṛağil byafham ṭabʿan ana byirwiy ʿaláy aššāyb aḅūy Aḷḷāh yarḥamah . . . (ʿĪ) Aḷḷāh yarḥamah . . . 33) (ʿŠ) əʿNēz Aḅuw Sālim . . . gāḷ yā mḥāfiḏ$ ana lliy ʿirifthuṃ . . . gāḷ gul lay mīn44 yā-bən ʿĀmir la nnās hāḏōḷ . . . 34) gāḷ hāḏa$ ssukkuṛ w aššāy . . . (ʿĪ) hāḏa ssukkuṛ . . . (ʿŠ) w iššāy . . . (ʿĪ) w iššāy . . . (ʿŠ) assukkuṛ w aššāy mā daxaḷ ġār45 əmʿ alIngilīz . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . 35) (ʿŠ) gabəḷ kiḏiy mā ḥadd yaʿárf assukkuṛ w aššāy . . . (ʿĪ) mā ḥadd əbyáʿarif . . . (ʿŠ) ġār algaháwah . . . (ʿĪ) ġār algáhawah . . .46 36) (ʿŠ) albidāwah mā lha, mā lha maʿāniy b issukkuṛ w iššāy ġār baʿad alIngilīz əw laggiy ğāy malʿūn alwāldēn . . . 37) (ʿĪ) yabga hāḏa$ wāḥid alḥīn ṭíliʿ . . . min alliy byafhamow . . . (ʿŠ) min alliy byafhamow gāḷ intah yā-bən ʿĀmir ṛağil ḥakīm . . . (ʿĪ) ṛağil ḥakīm . . .

At this point the speaker switches to another topic: the Governor wants to go hunting

38) (ʿŠ) ạ̄ . . . baʿadēn almḥāfiḏ$ hāḏa$ ṛağil hāwiy . . . ṣayd . . . hāwiy yiṣṭād . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . (ʿŠ) gāḷ ʾana ʿāwz ətğībuw lay wāḥid ṛāğil xabīr . . . əw ṛağil ṣayyād . . . 39) (ʿĪ) ṛağil ṣayyād . . . (ʿŠ) hmmm . . . gāḷow nğīb lak fīh wāḥid əmn alAḥaywāt ismah ʿAwdah bass barḏak$ mā ʾidriy47 hū min yāt min algib . . . əmn alʿāylāt . . . 40) (ʿĪ) bass Aḥaywiy . . . (ʿŠ) Aḥaywiy . . . w intah ʿārif iḥna kuṃān turbuṭna yaʿniy b almnāsabah mʿ alAḥaywāt xuwwah . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . 41) (ʿŠ) tārīx yaʿniy w kiḏíy w . . . (ʿĪ) ḥalafāna . . . (ʿŠ) ḥalafāna w xwạ̄nna uxuww . . .

43 almišạ̄wix: an example in which primary stress does not coincide with the highest pitch in the word, primary stress (and second highest pitch) being on the long ạ̄, but highest pitch being in the vowel of the article al-. Cf. remark in De Jong 2000:244–245. 44 mīn: the interrogative “who” is mīn or min (with short i) in Tuṛbāniy of Nwēbiʿ. 45 ġār: although diphthongs are more generally preserved when preceded by emphatics or back spirants, ġār (< * ġayr) is an exception. 46 The forms gaháwah and gáhawah illustrate the difference between the two varieties of Tuṛbāniy Arabic in terms of placing stress in CaCaCv sequences (including gahawah- sequences), see De Jong 2011:216–217. 47 ʾidriy: vowel harmony in the 1st p. sg. comm. of the imperfect is not a feature of Tuṛbāniy Arabic of Ṣadr. The proper form there would be adriy. texts in sinai bedouin dialects 129

42) gāḷow hātuw lah ʿAwdih, ʿAwdih ṛağil ṣayyād, əw yaʿárif əyṣīd alġizlān əw ṛağil hāwiy ṣṣayd hawāyih . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . 43) (ʿŠ) gāḷ yā ʿAwdah ana w intih . . . bənṛūḥ niṣṭād . . . gāḷ bənṛūḥ, yā mḥāfiḏ . . . gā$ ḷ bass ana widdī 48 ğamal ʿāgil əkwayyis . . . 44) gāḷ ana bağīb lak ğamalī� . . . gā́ ḷ xalāṣ, əbnāxiḏ miʿna ʾak il əw kull šiy w bnaṭlaʿ . . . aṣṣaḥara . . . (ʿĪ) nitaṣayyad . . . (ʿŠ) nitṣād49 w ənlāgiy lna ġazāl . . . 45) almuhimm əw kān yaṭlaʿaw mn Nixəl aṣṣubəḥ . . . ʿAwdah ʿindah ğimál . . . ʿā:gil . . . w əmṭabbaʿ əw ʿindih . . . biʿīr ṯāniy zayy ma tgūl bəyṭabbiʿ fīh50 . . . 46) aʿṭa lmḥāfiḏ$ álğimal . . . (ʿĪ) alhādiy . . . (ʿŠ) alhādiy . . . əw hū rikíb alguʿūd ə: . . . (ʿĪ) alliy bəyṭabbiʿ fah . . .51 (ʿŠ) alliy bəyṭabbiʿ fīh ạ̄ . . . w almḥāfiḏ$ əmʿáh albārūdih . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . (ʿŠ) assalḥah mʿ almḥāfiḏ . . . $ 47) gāḷ intah yā ʿAwdih bətšūf ġazāl . . . bətgūl ley52 . . . gāḷ ṭayyib . . . əw kān ġizlā:n53 . . . almanṭigah kānat . . . (ʿĪ) xayr ləblād zamān . . . (ʿŠ) xayr, naʿam . . . (ʿĪ) əb xayr . . . 48) (ʿŠ) ilmuhimm mā ʾabʿadow w huṃṃa yšūfuw ġizlān gāl54 yā mḥāfiḏ$ irʿ 55 alġazāl . . . 49) gāḷ ana yā ʿAwdih . . . ana buṭuxx56 alġazāl . . . gāl ṭuxx . . . alġazāl nāṣiḥ . . . 50) garrib yā lmḥāfiḏ$ əw garrib əw garrib əw ʿAwdah mʿáh əw garrib w úxəmuṛuw57 w garrib58 . . .

48 widdī: often the pronominal suffix of the 1st p. sg. is stressed, but not always, like in this instance. 49 nitṣād: the form looks like a hybrid of (measure 1-t, or VIII) niṣṭād and (measure t-II, or V) ntaṣayyad. 50 fīh: in the dialect of the Taṛābīn of Ṣadr the preposition fi with the 3rd p. sg. masc. suffix is more regularly fah. 51 fah (lit.) “in it (sg. masc)” the proper form in Tuṛbāniy of Sadr, but fīh (with long ī) in Tuṛbāniy of Nwēbiʿ, see De Jong 2011:247. 52 ley: a in lay “to me” is partially raised. 53 Prosodic lengthening of the long ā in ġizlān is used to express the large numbers of gazelle living in the desert in those days. 54 gāl is usually velarized (as in gāḷ ), but not always. 55 irʿ: originally an apocopated imperative (compare also remark in fn 67 below) of raʿ ā “see” (cf. CA ra‌ʾā), irʿ or arʿ is used as a presentative particle. See remarks in Henkin 2010:135–136, and other references in De Jong 2000:235 (fn 476). 56 uṭuxx ( < aṭuxx): raising of pre-stress a in open syllable of the 1st p. sg. comm. is a regular feature of this dialect, see also preceding fn 47. 57 úxəmuṛuw: the superscript u is a bukaṛa-vowel, see De Jong 2011:221–222. 58 The verb forms used here (garrib and uxəmuruw) here are instances of the narrative (or descriptive) imperative. 130 rudolf de jong

51) almḥāfiḏ$ bəyʿarrid əb ṛāsih kiḏiyyān šāfah alġazāl šaṛad . . . (ʿĪ) šaṛad . . . 52) (ʿŠ) gāḷ ṛāḥ xalāṣ ənšūf wāḥid ġayrih . . . áḥardow59 lḳuw60 ṛawḏ$ ṯāniy wlāhin61 wēn alġizlān . . . 53) gāḷ ana ʿAwdih ana buṭuxx ġazāl . . . gāl intah ṭuxx ġazāl . . . 54) ilmuhimm garrib mā garrib hāḏa$ ʿarrid əb ṛāsah w šāfah alġazāl əw šáṛad . . . (ʿĪ) šaṛád . . . 55) (ʿŠ) əw ṭūl annahāṛ ziyy kiḏiy . . . ḥawēlah62 xams sitt maṛṛāt əw huṃṃa yṭubbuw f-alġizlān . . . w almḥāfiḏ$ widdah əyṭuxx . . . (ʿĪ) əw ʿAwwād63 ṭawīl ṛūḥ . . . (ʿŠ) əw ʿAwdih . . . (ʿĪ) ʿAwdih . . . 56) (ʿŠ) aṛṛağil ṣayyād . . . əw bəyxallīh ʿašān xāṭir almḥāfiḏ,$ əmḥāfiḏ . $ . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . 57) (ʿŠ) gā:ḷ . . . aṣṣalāh alʿaṣāyir kiḏiy gabḷ ətġīb aššams . . . mā ğābow ġizlān . . . əwlāhawēn 64 alġizlān . . . 58) gāl asmaʿ yā mḥāfiḏ . . . intah$ xaməs maṛṛāt ġaṛṛayt65 əmn alġazāl . . . xallnī� ́ an-aṭuxx alġazāl iḥna kamān əšwayyih bətġīb aššaməs . . . 59) (ʿĪ) w inn mā fīh la ʿaša . . . (ʿŠ) əw linn mā fīh la ʿaša wala taḥzanūn66 . . . 60) gāḷ xalāṣ yā ʿAwdih . . . intah ṭuxx alġazāl . . . gāl ṭayyib intah yā mḥāfiḏ$ tíməš67 waṛāy . . . (ʿĪ) timšiy waṛāy . . .

59 ḥarad, yaḥarid “cross from one valley to another (going up first, coming down next)”, here a narrative imperative (pl.). 60 lkuw: lit. “for you (pl. masc.)” an instance of the ‘ethical dative’ often used in story telling as a device to present the story to the listener(s), see De Jong 2000: 241–242. 61 For suffixed wla as presentative, see Blanc 1970:34 (145). 62 In the dialect of Taṛābīn of Ṣadr the form is more regularly ḥawālah. 63 The interviewer meant to say ʿAwdah. 64 wēn: for the presentative use of wēn in combinations with other presentative particles (as ‘distal pointers’), see remarks in Henkin 2010:137. 65 ġaṛayt: ġaṛ, yġuṛ min “miss, fail to hit”. Velarization (in ṛ) causes the diphthongal ay. 66 lā taḥzanūn: literally “you (pl. masc.) shall not grieve”: a quote from the Qurʾān, wa-lā ʾantum taḥzanūna (43:68). The translation is in line with lā yaḥzanūn in Hinds and Badawi 1986:203. 67 tíməš: tímš is an 2nd p. sg. masc. apocopated imperfect form of the verb maša, yimšiy. Although apocopated imperatives may be heard in many of the dialects of this area, the apocopated imperfect used here is actually less current than in other dialects of southern Sinai (and is even rarer or non-existent in TAS). The instances of this feature in this text produced by this speaker of TAN actually all occur in reported speech of the Aḥaywiy (where apocopated imperfects are also less current, see remark in Stewart 1990: 93 (fn 33)), who led the hunt. It could be that the speaker actually believed this feature to be characteristic of Aḥaywiy speech as well, whereas it is much more so characteristic of other dialects surrounding TAN (see De Jong 2011:map 87). For other instances in this text see (an apocopated imperative in sent. 58) xallnī “let me” (but there probably grammaticalized as an adhortative particle, see remark in De Jong 2000: 202 (fn 375)), (sent. 61) tsaww texts in sinai bedouin dialects 131

61) (ʿŠ) aywah . . . gāḷ ṭayyib yā ʿAwdih . . . gāḷ əw zayy ma ugūḷ lak . . . ətsaww. . . . gāḷ ṭayyib intah yā ʿAwdih ṣayyād . . . ana halḥīn miš əmḥāfiḏ,$ intah mḥāfiḏ . . .$ 62) (ʿŠ) almuhimm ʿAwdah ṛağil ṣayyād . . . garrib la lġizlān garrib garrib garrib w almḥāfiḏ$ waṛāh . . . əw kull ḥīn əbyíltifit l almḥāfiḏ$ əw bəygūl lah habbiṭ ṛāsak . . . habbiṭ ṛāsak lā yšūfak alġazāl . . . 63) alġazāl law ṭār xalāṣ almaġirib68 bəyṛūḥ māš69 ġizlān . . . (ʿĪ) əw ṛāḥ álʿaša . . . 64) (ʿŠ) garrib garrib yōm ʿAwdih ğa‌ʾ widdah ymidd ʿa lġazāl əwla lmḥāfiḏ$ bəyʿarrid əb ṛāsih, əygūl habbiṭ ṛāsak yalʿan dīnak! w Aḷḷāh alʿaḏīm!$ 65) taḏāyag . . . aṣṣayyād$ hāḏa zayy almağnūn . . . (ʿĪ) hēḏiy láḥaḏah . . . a$ lláḥaḏah . $ . . (ʿŠ) bəygūl lah habbiṭ ṛāsak yalʿan dīnak . . . [. . .]w Aḷḷāh alʿaḏīm . . .$ 66) (ʿĪ) ạ̄ w Aḷḷāh alʿaḏīm . . . hēḏiy$ laḥaḏah. . . . yā$ yašlaḥḥa70 . . ., yā trūḥ . . . (somebody joins the gathering) [. . .] hala! hala w Aḷḷah marḥab . . . əymassīk b alxayr yā-ḅuw Sirīʿ! 71 [. . .] 67) (ʿŠ) almuhimm . . . ṭaxx alġazāl ʿAwdih . . . əw ğā:b alġazāl . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . 68) (ʿŠ) əw taʿaššaw, əw ṛā:gaw w kayyafaw min bākir almisīrih . . . zayy ma hī . . . 69) ʿAwdah əbyimšiy giddām almḥāfiḏ,$ w almḥāfiḏ$ ʿá-lğimal . . . əbyasmaʿ almḥāfiḏ$ kull ḥīn bəyḏarri$ ṭ əw hū ṛākib ʿá-lğimal . . . 70) ṭabʿan . . . ʿind albaduw alliy byíḥtirim albihīmih hēḏiy álğimal hāḏa$ wiṣīlih kibīrih w niʿmih . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄, lēha-ḥtiṛāmha w . . . 71) (ʿŠ) ạ̄, əw ʿind albaduw min ʿawāyidhuṃ innak intah lḥāğah lliy zayy hēḏiy masalan mā tsawwīha [ fa’] . . . ʿa ḏaháṛ$ albiʿīr mumkin tin- zil . . . aw kalām zayy kiḏiyyāniy . . . w əb ṛāḥtak . . . əw bitgaḏ$ ḏiy$ ḥāğtak əw mā fīh míškilih . . . 72) gāḷ intah ʿārif yā mḥāfiḏ,$ gāḷ aywah yā ʿAwdih, gāḷ iḥna ʿindina ʿa:yb alwāḥid əyfassiy ʿa ḏahár$ albiʿīr . . . (ʿĪ) ʿa:yb . . . (ʿŠ) miš kwayyis mūhū zēn . . .

“you do” (not certain, since the speaker may have hesitated), (sent. 73) la tfass “don’t fart”, (sent. 76) tsaww “you do”. 68 almaġirib: the phonetic quality of the superscript vowel is not clear; it could be a (making it a gahawah-vowel), or i (making it a bukaṛa-vowel). The latter interpretation has been assumed here. 69 māš “there isn’t/aren’t” (negation of fīh). 70 yašlaḥḥa: assimilated yašlaʿ + ha (šalaʿ, yašlaʿ “hit a target, smash sth”). 71 Aḅuw Sirīʿ: the guest entering is one of the elders of the Sarāyʿih sub-section. 132 rudolf de jong

73) hū miš ʿārif əygūl lah ēh? la tfass72 ʿa ḏaháṛ$ álğimal . . . wala bala mʾāxzah ʿa:yb . . . (ʿĪ) aywah aywah . . . 74) (ʿŠ) gāḷ ʿindina ʿa:yb kibīr . . . waṣayt aššāy yā . . .? 73 gāḷ ṭayyib yā ʿAwdih ṭayyib . . . 75) almuhimm . . . mašáw mišwāṛ gāḷ yā ʿAwdih, gāḷ ạ̄, gāḷ aná ṭayyib . . . lēš ʾinzil əw mā ʾinzil, lēš ʾana . . . yaʿniy ma fīš ḥāğah ṯāny-asawwīha badal ma ʾinzil ʾana . . . əw narkab ṯāniy w ənwaddiy ṯāniy? 76) gāḷ w Aḷḷāhiy yā šēx hī mīhī yaʿniy bass mīhī zēnih hī innak intah fi ḏahár$ albiʿīr ətsaww74 kiḏiy . . . (ʿĪ) əw ʿAwdah bəytḥaššad? 77) (ʿŠ) aywah, gāḷ ṭayyb ēh yaʿniy? lāzim ʾinzil? əw ʿAwdah zayy- lliy . . . əmḥāfiḏ$ hāḏa$ ygūl lah ēh? 78) gāḷ yaʿniy ʿAwdah ʾana law ʿamalt hēk, masalan, əw milt ʿala ğamb . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . (ʿŠ) əw fissēt f-alğaww . . . biʿīd kiḏiyyāniy mumkin? 79) gāl w Aḷḷāhiy mumkin bass yaʿniy mīhī magbūḷah . . . əw kān almḥāfiḏ$ əymī::l, əw hū ʿa ḏahár$ álğimal əw kā::n əyfassiy . . . 80) gāḷ intah ʿārif yā ʿAwdih, gāḷ ā, gāḷ intah rağğāl fissāy gidīm intih . . . (ʿĪ) fassāy gidīm . . . w Aḷḷah ṛáyyaḥatah . . . ṛáyyaḥatah . . . w Aḷḷah ṛáyyaḥatah . . .int yā ʿAwdah fassāy gidīm (ʿŠ) intah rağil fassāy gidīm yaʿniy btaʿárif . . .

Translation: The English Governor

1) (ʿĪ) By God, today I have come to you . . . (ʿŠ) May God grant you (a long) life . . . (ʿĪ) (For you) to tell me (about) one of the stories of the Taṛābīn . . . (in) the original words . . . 2) (ʿŠ) Yes, by God, and may God grant you (a long) life, oh Lord . . . The stories of this world are many . . . (ʿĪ) Many . . . Oh ʿŠēš, you, where were you born? 3) (ʿŠ) I was born in . . . azZalagah . . . in a wadi named azZalagah, up (in the mountains). (ʿĪ) And how old are you now? (ʿŠ) I am now forty- seven years old. (ʿĪ) Forty-seven . . . (ʿŠ) Yes . . . 4) and what did you work as all your life? In the beginning of your life, what did you work as? (ʿŠ) Herding camels, by God [your . . .], a camel herder . . . (ʿĪ) A camel herder . . . (ʿŠ) Yes. By the help (of Him), by

72 See fn. 67. 73 The speaker addresses a young boy who had been asked to make tea. 74 See fn. 67. texts in sinai bedouin dialects 133

God, a camel herder . . . until the year . . . eighty-four . . . I was a camel herder . . . (ʿĪ) You were a camel herder . . . 5) (ʿŠ) Yes . . . And after that I came (down) to the town here . . .75 (ʿĪ) You came to the town here . . . (ʿŠ) hmmm . . . we made progress . . . 6) (ʿĪ) And you made the camp . . . (ʿŠ) And I made the camp . . . and so I worked in (lit. with the) tourism, with the tourists . . . . 7) (ʿĪ) With the tourists . . . and how did you benefit from the tourists? (ʿŠ) By God, we benefited in few things, by God, the first of them being shamelessness. . . . 8) (ʿĪ) This is for sure76 . . . By God, I’d like you to tell me (about) a story . . . (ʿŠ) hmmm . . . (ʿĪ) About a story . . . the story of the English- man on the camel trip, when he farted, may God have mercy on you and have mercy on those who hear (this), 9) and to tell me the second story, the story of the tanǧīr . . .77 (ʿŠ) Yes . . . (ʿĪ) and to tell me a story about the life of the Taṛābīn and how, and their land and . . . 10) (ʿŠ) Yes, yes . . . By God, the Taṛābīn are from among all tribes of Sinai we hold in high esteem . . . our neighbours and our own folk . . . and now . . . this story ehm . . . the old man told me—God rest his soul— my (lit. the) father . . .78 (ʿĪ) God rest his soul . . . 11) (ʿŠ) Yes, by God . . . When the English first came, they entered Sinai from the direction of Egypt . . . you understand? (ʿĪ) Yes . . . (ʿŠ) and ehm . . . and they came to alʿArīš . . . (ʿĪ) And they came to alʿArīš . . . 12) (ʿŠ) Yes . . . there is this story . . . as far as I’m concerned . . . that is ehm . . . maybe I remembered (lit. found) it now after we switched on the recorder . . . (ʿĪ) Yes . . . 13) (ʿŠ) (A story which is) very important to me and to all . . . tribes of Sinai . . . (ʿĪ) By God, good . . . (ʿŠ) You understand? Not only Taṛābīn,

75 fōg f-álǧibal is a current expression for “up in the mountains (i.e. the desert)”. Hence, coming (down) to the coast (in this case to Nwēbiʿ) is expressed with the verb nizil, yinzil. 76 hēḏiy rasmiy: lit. “this is official”. 77 tanǧīr: the interviewer knows the speaker very well, and is asking here for stories he had heard him tell in the past. tanǧīr was presented as an old (and no longer used) Bedouin word as the subject of a later recording (not in this contribution) and was used in reference to agricultural activity in a desert area. 78 His father was the late ʿNēz aḅuw Sālim Swēlim alʿUrḏiy,# who by many was regarded as the greatest poet of Sinai. A number of his poems are in Bailey 1991 and in Holes and Abu Athera 2009. 134 rudolf de jong

we are all brothers, Taṛābīn and aḥaywāt and Ṭawara79 and all of them . . . and all of them . . . and all of them are our folk and our people . . . ehm . . . (ʿĪ) Good . . . 14) (ʿŠ) Ehm . . . the Englishman . . . when he first came to . . . alʿArīš, of course apart from alʿArīš there was no other town in all of this (desert of) Sinai . . . (ʿĪ) Yes . . . (ʿŠ) It was the town . . . (ʿĪ) . . . like the capital city . . . (ʿŠ) Like the capital city . . . the entire region is desert. 15) and after that, the Englishman came (lit. entered), and the English- man . . . had of course ideas in his head about the Middle East that were known . . . about partitioning or not, about creating states or not, and about separation or not . . . 16) so of course the Englishman came . . . ehm . . . and the Englishman then gathered the sheikhs in the north, in alʿArīš . . . (ʿĪ) In alʿArīš . . . (ʿŠ) Yes . . . (ʿĪ) The sheikhs of the tribes . . . (ʿŠ) The sheikhs of the tribes, the tribes of Sinai . . . (ʿĪ) Yes . . . 17) (ʿŠ) Yes, he said to them ‘Oh sheikhs, we . . . want to help you create the State of Sinai . . . (ʿĪ) And they would create the State of Sinai . . . (ʿŠ) Yes . . . (ʿĪ) Yes . . . (ʿŠ) The partitionings were (at that time) taking place, you see . . . (ʿĪ) They were taking place . . . yes . . . 18) (ʿŠ) ehm . . . anyway, the sheikhs came, (and) of course you know that at that time and until now at some times the majority of the sheikhs . . . were people . . . that is, in (terms of ) science . . . they have not had an education . . . (ʿĪ) They have not had an education . . . 19) (ʿŠ) Yes, they have been educated, that is, in (terms of) the wisdom of life . . . (ʿĪ) They have been educated . . . (ʿŠ) Life experience, but they have not been taught reading and . . . writing, that is . . . (ʿĪ) They learned from life . . . (ʿŠ) From life . . . (ʿĪ) and (from) practice . . . 20) (ʿŠ) Hmmm . . . the Englishman then . . . started to gather them, and they sat (together) in alʿArīš and he brought them and after that . . . he said to them “Who has had an education, who has knowledge?” (ʿĪ) Yes . . . 21) (ʿŠ) The majority of course were not educated . . . a Swērkiy80 said, (at least) I think, I don’t know about him (for sure), he was from the Sawārkah, but I don’t know which (lit. whose) family . . . he said “I am educated” . . .

79 The name Ṭawara (stressed Táwara or Tuwára) is used in collective reference to the tribes of Ṭūr, the moutainous southern tip of the Sinai Peninsula. 80 Swērkiy: a member of the tribe Sawārkah, who live on the northeastern Mediterra- nean coast of Sinai around alʿArīš. texts in sinai bedouin dialects 135

22) The Englishman brought him and found that indeed he was an educated man . . . (ʿĪ) Good . . . (ʿŠ) He said “Listen . . . since this man is educated . . . I will make him . . . your Governor . . . in my stead” (ʿĪ) Yes . . . 23) (ʿŠ) “and we (i.e. the English) can perhaps leave and after that you will have a Governor from among you(-rselves) . . . (ʿĪ) Yes . . . (ʿŠ) and a leader from among you . . . (ʿĪ) Yes . . . (ʿŠ) and a President from among you and we’ll get you ready to become a state . . .” (ʿĪ) Yes . . . 24) (ʿŠ) The sheikhs, of course you know about these tribalisms and dis- criminations are a big problem . . . (ʿĪ) Yes . . . (ʿŠ) He said “Oh sheikhs, consider your situation . . . if you agree, I will make this man whose name is Salmān”, this Swērkiy’s name was Salmān . . . he said “I will make him . . . Governor of the region . . . in my stead . . . and I shall be giving you ehm . . .” 25) The sheikhs of course said what? “How can a Swērkiy become our Governor . . .?” (ʿĪ) It isn’t right . . . (ʿŠ) It wouldn’t be right with the Bedouin . . . (ʿĪ) Yes . . . 26) (ʿŠ) Many men came and went and they (all) said “No, it will not be . . .” He said “Ok, it will not be. I am Governor . . . Forget about Salmān . . . and let me be Governor and you [do] as I am telling you . . .” (ʿĪ) Yes . . . 27) (ʿŠ) Do you understand? They said “Okay, you are a better Governor than Salmān . . .” The tribalisms . . . have influence . . . (ʿĪ) It’s bound to be (like that), yes . . . (ʿŠ) Because of the lack of knowledge they have great influence (ʿĪ) (it is) The lack of knowledge which makes them lag behind . . . 28) (ʿŠ) Yes . . . anyway, my friend . . . the Governor went up to Nixl,81 this Nixl was a village . . . it is also known that there is a fortress82 . . . (ʿĪ) Yes . . . (ʿŠ) An old (fortress) . . . (ʿĪ) The fortress of Nixl . . . (ʿŠ) The fortress of Nixl . . . and he gathered . . . he brought the sheikhs and con- vened them in Nixl . . . 29) He gathered the sheikhs and said “Oh sheikhs . . . you ehm . . . with you two thieves have found refuge . . . in the region . . . (ʿĪ) Two thieves have found refuge . . .

81 Nixl: the town is on most maps indicated as Nakhl, but local pronunciation is with i. 82 The fortress of Nakhl was built to protect the pilgrimage route across the Tīh Plateau to ʿAqabah, which lies some 110 km farther to the east. 136 rudolf de jong

30) (ʿŠ) Hmmm . . . “one white and one black . . . and, oh sheikhs, he who identifies these two thieves I shall consider him to be a sheikh . . . who has (sound) understanding . . . or is wise . . . (ʿĪ) Yes . . . 31) (ʿŠ) The sheikhs (were asking themselves) ‘one black and one white and who is the one who is one black and one white?’ Anyway, there was a sheikh named Ḥamd ibn ʿĀmir—God rest his soul . . . (ʿĪ) God rest his soul . . . 32) (ʿŠ) Of the Tayāha . . . a man ehm . . . (of whom) they said that he was a man who would understand (things), of course, my father, the old man told me—God rest his soul . . . (ʿĪ) God rest his soul . . . 33) (ʿŠ) ʿNēz aḅuw Sālim . . . He said “Oh Governor, I’m the one who has identified them . . .” He said “Tell me who they are, oh Ibn ʿĀmir, (and) to these people . . .” 34) He said “It is sugar and tea . . .” (ʿĪ) It is sugar . . . (ʿŠ) And tea . . . (ʿĪ) And tea . . . (ʿŠ) Sugar and tea did not enter (i.e. were not introduced) until with (the coming of) the English . . . (ʿĪ) Yes . . . 35) (ʿŠ) Before that nobody knew sugar and tea . . . (ʿĪ) Only coffee . . . (ʿŠ) Only coffee . . . (ʿĪ) Only coffee . . . 36) (ʿŠ) The Bedouin only had meanings for (the words) ‘sugar’ and ‘tea’ after the English had come, may their ancestors be cursed . . . 37) (ʿĪ) So now someone had come forward . . . of those who had (sound) understanding . . . (ʿŠ) Of those who understand, he said “You, oh Ibn ʿĀmir, are a wise man . . .” (ʿĪ) A wise man . . .

At this point the speaker switches to another topic: the Governor wants to go hunting

38) and after that, this Governor was a man who loved . . . hunting . . . he loved to go hunting . . . (ʿĪ) Yes . . . (ʿŠ) He said “I want you to bring me an expert man . . . a hunter . . .” 39) (ʿĪ) A hunter . . . (ʿŠ) Hmmm . . . They said “We’ll bring you, there is someone from the aḥaywāt named ʿAwdah”, but also I don’t know from which tribe . . . of the families . . . 40) (ʿĪ) But (he was) an aḥaywiy . . . (ʿŠ) An aḥaywiy . . . and you know that we are also bound in kinship to the aḥaywāt as brothers . . . (ʿĪ) ạ̄ . . . 41) (ʿŠ) History, that is, and all that and . . . (ʿĪ) Our allies . . . (ʿŠ) Our allies and our brothers . . . 42) They said “Bring him ʿAwdah, ʿAwdah is a hunter and he knows how to hunt gazelles and he is a keen hunter . . .” (ʿĪ) Yes . . . texts in sinai bedouin dialects 137

43) (ʿŠ) He said “Oh ʿAwdah, you and I . . . are going hunting . . .”. He said “We’ll go, oh Governor” He said “But I need a smart good camel . . .” 44) He said “I’ll bring you my camel . . .” He said “Okay, we take food and everything with us and we’ll go up . . . into the desert” (ʿĪ) to go hunting . . . (ʿŠ) “to go hunting and find ourselves gazelles . . .” 45) anyway, as they set out from Nixl in the morning . . . ʿAwdah had a camel . . . smart . . . and trained and he had . . . another camel which, as you’d say, he was still training . . . 46) He gave the camel to the Governor . . . (ʿĪ) The quiet one . . . (ʿŠ) The quiet one, while he (himself ) rode the young male camel ehm . . . (ʿĪ) which he was training . . . (ʿŠ) which he was training, yes . . . And the Governor had the rifle with him . . . (ʿĪ) Yes . . . (ʿŠ) The Governor had the weapon . . . 47) He said “You, oh ʿAwdah, if you see gazelle, you tell me . . .” He said “Okay . . .” And there were (lots of) gazelles . . . the area was . . . (ʿĪ) The land was good in the old days . . . (ʿŠ) Good, yes . . . (ʿĪ) (the land was) good . . . 48) (ʿŠ) Anyway, they hadn’t gone far when they saw gazelles. He said “Oh Governor, look, there is the gazelle . . .” 49) He said “I, oh ʿAwdah, am going to shoot the gazelle . . .” He said “(Go ahead) shoot . . . the gazelle is in good faith (i.e. is not on its guard) . . .” 50) The Governor came nearer and nearer and nearer with ʿAwdah with him, and nearer they came and hid themselves, and nearer they came . . . 51) The Governor exposed his head like this (and then) the gazelle saw him and fled . . . (ʿĪ) He fled . . . 52) He said “That’s it, he’s gone, let’s find another one . . .” They crossed over to another valley (for you) (to find) another valley and there they were, the gazelles . . . 53) He said “I, (oh) ʿAwdah, will shoot the gazelle . . .” He said “You (go ahead and) shoot the gazelle . . .” 54) anyway, this (man) kept coming nearer and nearer (and would then) expose his head and the gazelle would see him and flee . . . (ʿĪ) He fled . . . 55) (ʿŠ) And it went on like this all day . . . About five, six times when they found gazelles . . . and the Governor was going to shoot . . . (ʿĪ) While ʿAwwād was exercising patience . . . (ʿŠ) and ʿAwdah . . . (ʿĪ) ʿAwdah . . . 56) This man was a (real) hunter . . . but he let him be because the Governor . . . was a Governor . . . (ʿĪ) Yes . . . 138 rudolf de jong

57) (ʿŠ) He said . . . When it was around afternoon prayer time, before the sun goes down . . . and they (still) hadn’t caught gazelles . . . and then there were gazelles . . . 58) He said “Listen, oh Governor . . . you have now five times missed the gazelle . . . let me shoot the gazelle, the sun is going to set (on us) in a little while . . .” 59) (ʿĪ) And look, there is no dinner . . . (ʿŠ) And look, there is no dinner, nor anything at all . . . 60) He said “Okay, oh ʿAwdah . . . you shoot the gazelle” He said “Okay, you, oh Governor, walk behind me . . . (ʿĪ) You walk behind me . . . 61) (ʿŠ) Yes . . . He said “Okay, oh ʿAwdah . . .” He said “And you do . . . as I say”. He said “Okay, you, oh ʿAwdah, are a hunter . . . I am not a Gov- ernor now, you are Governor . . .” 62) anyway, ʿAwdah was a hunter . . . he came nearer to the gazelles, nearer, nearer and nearer, with the Governor behind him . . . and every time he would turn around to the Governor and say to him “Keep your head down . . . keep your head down, so the gazelle does not see you . . .” 63) if the gazelle flees, it’s done. At sunset they go away (and) there are no more gazelles . . . (ʿĪ) And then dinner is gone (too) . . . 64) He came nearer and nearer when ʿAwdah came and was going to aim for the gazelle, there was the Governor sticking out his head, he says “Keep your head down, may He curse your religion! By the great God!” 65) He was annoyed . . . this hunter went crazy . . . (ʿĪ) This was a moment . . . the moment . . . (ʿŠ) He says “Keep your head down, may He curse your religion! . . .” By the great God . . . 66) (ʿĪ) By the great God . . . This was a moment . . .he would either hit them, or they would go away . . . (somebody joins the gathering) [. . .] Welcome! Welcome, by God, welcome . . . May He grant you a good evening, oh Abuw Sirīʿ! [ . . .] 67) (ʿŠ) Anyway, it was ʿAwdah who shot the gazelle . . .83 and he brought the gazelle . . . (ʿĪ) Yes . . . 68) (ʿŠ) And they had dinner, and they relaxed (and) the next day the tour (continued) as it had been (the day before) . . .

83 Since the name ʿAwdah is topicalized in the original text by—paradoxically perhaps— post-positioning, I have translated as is. texts in sinai bedouin dialects 139

69) ʿAwdah walked in front of the Governor, while the Governor was on the camel . . . (and) every time he heard the Governor pass wind while he was riding the camel . . . 70) of course, with the Bedouin, he who respects this animal, this camel is a great friend and a blessing . . . (ʿĪ) Yes, it is respected and . . . 71) (ʿŠ) Yes, and with the Bedouin it is one of their practices that you, this type of thing for instance you don’t do it [and] . . . on the back of the camel. You can dismount . . . or something like that . . . and at your ease . . . and answer nature’s call (lit. you execute your need), and there is no problem . . . 72) He said “Do you know, oh Governor . . .”, he said “Yes, oh ʿAwdah”, “with us it is a disgrace, one does not fart on the back of the camel . . . it is not good, not right . . .” 73) He didn’t know what to say to him. Don’t fart on the back of the camel . . . or, no offense intended, (it’s) a disgrace.. (ʿĪ) Yes, yes . . . 74) (ʿŠ) He said “With us it is a great disgrace . . .” He said “Okay, oh ʿAwdah, okay . . .” 75) anyway . . . they went on their way. He said “Oh ʿAwdah”, he said “Yes”, he said “I, okay . . . why should I dismount every time, why (should) I . . . that is, isn’t there something else I can do instead of dismount- ing . . . and then we mount again and we repeat (everything) all over again? 76) He said “By God, oh sheikh, it’s just, that is, that it isn’t right that you do this on the back of the camel . . .” (ʿĪ) And ʿAwdah was being shy . . .? 77) (ʿŠ) Yes. He said “Okay, what then? Do I have to dismount?” And ʿAwdah was like someone who . . . This was a Governor, what could he say to him? 78) He said, “ʿAwdah, so if I’d do like this, for instance, and I would lean over to the side . . . (ʿĪ) Yes . . . (ʿŠ) And I would fart into the air . . . away (from the back of the camel), (could I do it) like that?” 79) He said “By God, it’s possible, but it’s not (an) accepted (way of doing it). . . .”. And the Governor leaned over . . . and he farted . . . 80) He said “You know, oh ʿAwdah”, he said “Yes”, he said “You’re an expert old farter . . .” (ʿĪ) An expert old farter . . . it put him at ease . . . it put him at ease . . . By God, it put him at ease . . . You, oh ʿAwdah, are an expert old farter (ʿŠ) You are an expert old farter, that is, you know (how to go about things) . . . 140 rudolf de jong

Text: Homecoming of a Migrant Worker,84 a Text from the ʿLēgāt

The following text was recorded from Mḥammad (M) of the ʿLēgāt in Sarābīṭ alXādim, who was 34 years old at the time of recording. He has had limited school training and works in tourism. (R) is the author.

1) (M) zamān Aḷḷāh yikfīna šaṛṛ izzamān iššēn . . . zamān . . . yaʿniy . . . wálad . . . kān šaġġāl . . . ʿind nās əbyaṛʿa . . . əbyaṛʿa b ilbiʿṛān . . . 2) əw ḅaʿadēn . . . ḏalla$ yaṛʿa b ilbiʿṛān ʿinduhuṃ . . . əw . . . əw . . . zála- mah . . . kān fi blāduh . . . mā fīha rizəg . . . izzalamah kān fi blāduh mā fīha rizəg. 3) tiğawwaz la ḥuṛmah, əw baʿadēn fakkaṛ ma fīš maṣāliḥ ma fīš . . . əw xaḷḷāha lḥuṛmah ʿaggad ʿanhe . . . xaḷḷāha w ʿaggad ʿanha w gōṭar, 4) gūl símiʿ əblād masalan fīha xǟr zayy išŠarəm zayy əblād fīha xǟr zayy Hulandih . . . 5) gōṭar ġạ̄b . . . ġạ̄b . . . xaməstạ̄šar sánah . . . ġạ̄b gaddēš? xaməstạ̄šar sanah . . . ṛāʿ ʿind85 zálameh, ʿind zalamah ṛāʿ ʿinduh . . . ṛāʿ ʿinduh b biʿṛān . . . 6) ḏalla$ yarʿa b biʿṛān ʿinduh xaməstạ̄šar sanah . . . baʿad xaməstạ̄šar sanah zzalamah-ddāh krāh, ʿārf əkrāh . . . il’íkrih . . . 7) gāḷluḳ hāḏa krāk ʿindī� ́ əb xaməsṭāšar sanah . . . ṯálaṯ biʿṛān . . . ḥaṭṭ biʿṛānuh fi kaffuh, f-īduh, əw ği mʿāwid . . . 8) əbyasʿal86 ʿan iləblād w ē ʿašān əyrawwiḥ . . . əw hū ğāy fi ddarəb . . . mig- bil ʿa blāduh . . . lan hāhū ššāyib . . . əmẓabbiṭ87 baṛṛādī[ yih] . . . 9) əw gāʿid . . . ḏígəntuh bēḏā:: . . .$ 88 əw ṛāsuh abyaḏ$ əmn ázziman,89 maṛṛ ʿa ddinyih əw maṛṛ əw šāf, zayy mistir Rudfil90 . . . (R) šāyib barḏuh . $ . .

84 A somewhat different version of the same story (“Three sincere pieces of advice”) was published in Shawarbah 2012:301–306 (in appendix, Text A). 85 ṛāʿ ʿind: a haplology for ṛāʿiy ʿind. 86 əbyasʿal: the verb “ask” is with ʿayn, reflecting *’ (hamzah), cf. remark on the presentative particle irʿ in fn 55. 87 Although the regular reflex for both *ḍ and *ḏ$ is ḏ$ in ʿLēgiy, the reflex for *ḍ in the root *ḍ -b-ṭ is usually z in lexemes like zabbaṭ,̣ yzabbiṭ “put in order’, b iẓabṭ ̣ “precisely”, zābiṭ “officer”(and also in many other dialects of Sinai). Here I actually hear əmẓabbaṭ (i.e. with a instead of i in the final syllable), but have maintained a morphological notation, since (e.g.) pl. is mẓabbṭīn, with elision of the high vowel i. The ẓ was probably loaned back from Ottoman Turkish. 88 The speaker prosodically lengthens the final long ā to express the extreme length of the white beard of the man, its extreme whiteness, or both. 89 ázziman: in terms of stress, ʿLēgiy occupies a middle position between groups VII and I; *alCaCaC is stressed álCaCaC in ʿLēgiy and group I, but ilCáCaC in group VII, but the perfect of verbal measures VII and VIII is stressed ánCaCaC and áCtaCaC in group I, but inCáCaC and iCtáCaC in group VII and ʿLēgiy. 90 The name Rudfil is in reference to the author of this contribution. texts in sinai bedouin dialects 141

10) (M) ạ̄ ṛāḥ masalan91 ṛāḥ ilʿArīš əw ṛāḥ ṛāḥ . . . šāyi[m] innās əw šāyif innās [əw lāyim], yaʿniy zeyy ma tgūl iššāyib ḏi’ . . . ʿindih . . .92 ʿindih šiy wāğid . . . min ēh? əmn iddinyih tağārib . . . 11) w Aḷḷah w ği’ . . . əw ligīh . . . izzálamah ḏa’ . . . əb biʿṛānuh ligīh . . . issalām ʿalē[k] gāḷ yā maṛḥ[ab] ugʿud . . . 12) gāl yā iššāyib intah yā rağil gāʿid nihā fi lmaṭraḥ ilmagṭūʿ ḏi’ . . . bətsaww ēš? 13) gāl ana’ . . . bibīḥ . . . bibīʿ . . . ḥikəm . . . bibīʿ maṯal . . . gāl ətbīʿ maṯal bēʿ? gāl ạ̄ bibīʿ . . . 14) gāl yā rağil ilmaṯal bi’ . . . innās bəytama . . . bəytadāwalūh ma bēnhuṃ ma fīš fīh bēʿ wala ḥāğ . . . 15) gāḷ luh ana ʿād bibīʿuh bēʿ . . . gāl ṭayb ya rağil biʿnī� ́ maṯal wāḥid . . . gāḷ ilmaṯal əb biʿīr . . . ilmaṯal əb biʿīr? gāl ạ̄ b biʿīr . . . 16) gāḷ ṭayyib māšiy . . . biʿnī�-wwaĺ maṯal . . . gāḷ luh awwal maṯal . . . maṭraḥ ma tims93 . . . ’irəs . . . maṭraḥ ma tims . . . awwil ma ššamš ətġīb . . . ’irəs, ugʿud, nām . . . mā tíməšš fi llēl. 17) hāt ilbiʿīr, adda ğğámal . . . maṭraḥ ma tims, ’irəs? gāḷ ạ̄ . . . saww bēha- ntah94 bass . . . 18) gāḷ ṭayyib ēh . . . bugullak ēš . . . hāt maṯal ṯāniy . . . gāl ḥāfiḏ$ əb biʿīr iṯṯāniy, gāḷ bass gūl . . . 19) gāl ğiss álbaḥaṛ95 əb šārib ġēruḳ . . . lā tğissuh b šāríbuḳ . . . 20) yaʿniy lbaḥaṛ . . . ğissuh-xtibruh . . . xall wāḥid ṯāniy yfakkir fīh . . . aw issēl yōm əyʿaddiy, xall wāḥid ṯāniy yğarrib intah ma tṛūḥš ətğarrib . . . 21) ğiss álbaḥaṛ əb šārib ġēruḳ lā tğissuh b šāríbuḳ . . . hāt ilbiʿīr [iṯṯāniy] . . . gāl hū ḏalla$ biʿīr wāḥid . . . ma tgūllī maṯal w əbtạ̄xḏuh . . . 22) gā:l lā tafʿal . . . lā taf ʿal . . . gabəḷ ma tasʿal . . . lā tafʿal . . . fiʿlih . . . ġēr lamma tasʿal . . . w addāh . . . ṯalaṯ biʿṛān əw ği māšiy . . . 23) w Aḷḷah w ği māšiy iṭṭurgah,96 w ği māšiy w ği māšiy w ği māšiy, lā mʿuh biʿīr əw lā mʿuh ḥāğih . . .

91 In the root *m-ṯ-l the usual reflex for *ṯ is s, likely to be loaned from MSA through a dialect like Cairene Arabic. But of the same root also (with interdental) maṯal “(wise) saying” below. 92 ʿindih: much more regular in this dialect is the 3rd p. sg. masc. pronominal suffix –uh. 93 tims and ’irəs: both apocopated imperfect forms of the 2nd p. sg. masc. I am not quite sure about the absence of an anaptyctic vowel in tims; it might be voiceless, as in timəs. 94 It is not entirely clear: bēh intah (+ masc. pron. suffix referring to maṯal), or bēha- ntah (+ fem. pron. suffix in reference to a naṣīḥah “advice”). 95 álbaḥaṛ: stress like in group I dialects, but in the next sentence also ilbáḥa and also ilmáṯal (sentences 14, 15) instead of more properly ʿLēgiy (i.e. in the speech of other ʿLēgāt recorded) stressed articles. I attribute this variation to accommodation by the speaker due to my presence at the recording. 96 In Tuṛbāniy the form is ṭurgiy, like also in sent. 32 below. 142 rudolf de jong

24) yaḷḷa yōm ği hēhuwwih . . . lan zálamah mʿuh faras . . . zalamah . . . əmʿúh faras . . . w ilfarasah mḥammalah ḏiháb . . . 25) əw taṛāfaguw wayyāh fi ddarəb mašuw miʿ baʿaḏhuṃ$ mašuw gōṭaruw gōṭaruw fi ddarb əšwayyih . . . iššaməš ġạ̄bat . . . iššaməš ġạ̄bat . . . iššam əš . . . ġạ̄bat . . . (R) [ . . .] 26) (M) gāḷ luh . . . iḥna biddni’ . . . nirsiy ʿādiy . . . ənmarriḥ . . . ṛadd aḅuw faras gāḷ ya rağil marriḥ bass iḥna lissa ’ēh? fīh[a] nūr iššaməš . . . xallna nmaššiy giddām əšwayyih . . . 27) gāl ya rağil hī ġạ̄bat iššamš ənlimm lēna ḥáṭab w ənšūf əb zuhṛah w ənwalliʿ lēna nāṛ w ənsawwiy lēna ʿáše’ . . . 28) əw biddna ntaxabbaṭ fi llēl . . . əw yaʿniy lliy mašēna mšiy [ḥīn] fi llēl . . . nimšiy bukṛah . . . 29) gāḷ la-na bugūl lak ēš? ana biddī�-tagaddam . . . māšiy . . . á ḅuw fáras . . . 30) ṛadd [əw] gāḷ hū bugūllak ēh? ana miš mitḥarkil min nihā . . . əw gaʿad . . . maṛṛaḥ . . . 31) w Aḷḷah w dawwaṛ luh ratamah . . . ʿārf irratamah? (R) irratamah ạ̄ . . . 32) (M) ạ̄ . . . əw sawwa lēh ğaxaḏūb97 . . . ğamb irratamah . . . əw nām . . . əw ḏalla$ nā:::yim . . . lamma lfağər . . . ṭíliʿ . . . yōm ṭilʿ ilfağər . . . taʿāl māšiy . . . māšiy ṭurgiy . . . ʿa-ğrēh, 33) lā mʿuh ğamal wala mʿuh ḥāğih . . . lan hāhū lfaras . . . wā:gif . . . w əmḥammal . . . əydawwir ʿan ṣāḥbuh, lan ṣāḥbuh . . . əmwaggf álfaras, əw maša bəybawwil . . . bəybawwil . . . 34) aʿṯaṛ, aʿṯaṛ f-ēh? fi hann . . . sidd . . . w ōgaʿ 98 fīh . . . w Aḷḷah w xaḏ ilfáras iw ʿaggad buh . . . 35) taʿāl ʿa lfaras əw taʿāl māšiy . . . yōm taʿāl māšiy w taʿāl māšiy w taʿāl māšiy . . . lan hēhū zalamah . . . zalamah, yaʿniy zayy . . . ʿĪd kiḏiy . . . 36) w əmʿúh . . . biʿṛān, w əmʿúh xirfān, w əmʿúh miʿzih99 . . . əw xǟrāt Aḷḷāh . . . issalām yā marḥab wēn? gāḷ luh w Aḷḷāh min kiḏiy w xāṭirī�100́ kiḏiy.

97 ğaxaḏūb (< gahawah form of ğaxḏūb), pl. ğaxāḏīb: a place to sleep, dug a few centi- meters into the sand to be out of the wind. In the north of Sinai, I was told, this is called garmūṣ, pl. garāmīṣ (cf. qurmūṣ “a hollow which a man digs wherein to sit to protect himself from the cold”, Lane 1893:2987c). The origin of ğaxaḏūb is unclear to me, but may be related to ǧaxmāše (and ǧuxmāqa) “Öffnung, Höhlung, Schlupfloch, kleine Höhle” in which one can crawl away to hide, cf. Seeger 2009:41. 98 ōgaʿ: a narrative imperative, “it had fallen”. For the “narrative imperative” or “descriptive imperative”, see (among others) Palva 1977 and Ingham 1993:21–22. Other examples of the narrative imperative follow below in e.g. sentences 34 and 35. 99 miʿzih: miʿziy in Tuṛbāniy. 100 xāṭrī� ́ is here loosely translated as “my errand” (cf. the verb xaṭar, yaxaṭir, see Stewart 1990:283 (glossary): “to go to get supplies of corn and the like”). texts in sinai bedouin dialects 143

37) wēn intah? gāḷ [w Aḷḷah] kamān [ana] min kiḏiy w xāṭirī� ́ kiḏiy . . . gāḷ int taṛāfag101 gāḷ əw māluh . . . w Aḷḷah w taʿāluw,102 əw lan hēhuww-issēl ğāy . . . 38) bəyfiğğ fağğah fi lwādiy . . . sēl (R) ạ̄ . . . (M) hū gaṛaʿ farasuh . . . ḏāḳah gāḷ yā-ḅuw faras . . . ə:h . . . ğiss issēl . . . gāl la ’ana mā biğissuh . . . ana baḏalliy$ lamma ssēl yhawwif əw bagṭaʿ . . . 39) gāḷ la’ ana biğissuh . . . gāl ʿāwz ətğissuh tṛawwiḥ ğissuh . . . w Aḷḷah w taʿāl ḏāḳah ḥaṭṭ ’iğruh103 fi ssēl . . . 40) issēl gawiy ḥafar ’iğruh waggaʿuh . . . xaḏuh w katt104 bəyrūḥ bēh. w Aḷḷah w hū ḏalla$ b ilmiʿzih w ilbiʿṛān lamm:::a ssēl hawwa[ f ] xalāṣ . . . 41) əw wagaf w úḏərb$ ilmiʿzih w ilbiʿṛān əw bi ḏillih kullhin giddām ilfarasah w taʿāl əmṛawwiḥ bēhn iddāṛ . . . 42) ṛawwaḥ dāṛuh fi llēl . . . ṛawwaḥ dāṛuh fi llēl . . . yōm ṛawwaḥ fakkaṛ105 ʿārif dāṛuh . . . dāṛuh ʿaṛaffe’106 . . . lamma ʿaṛaf dāṛuh ṛawwaḥ . . . 43) yōm ṛawwaḥ ʿind ḥúṛəmtuh bidduh ynām ğambhi’ . . . lan zalamah riğğāl nāyim ğamb ilḥuṛmah . . . riğğāl . . . 44) ʿinduh xaməstạ̄šar sanah . . . nāyim ğamb ilḥuṛmah . . . [ha-nğann hū] . . . w əyʿāwid l issēf . . . gāl hū ġēr iğīb issēf w agṭaʿ ṛágabatuh . . . 45) baʿadēn fakkaṛ . . . gāḷ irriğğāl gāḷ ley . . . lā tafʿal . . . gabəḷ ma tasʿal . . . ana xannnī�-́ ṭawwil107 bālī� ́ lamma ṣṣabāḥ yaṭlaʿ . . . 46) w aṛawwḥ ilmagʿad anām fīh . . . w asʿal, išūf ilḥuṛmah tağawwazat baʿadī�,́ ana mā ṭallágəthe’ . . . 47) w Aḷḷah w ṛawwaḥ ilmagʿad əw gaʿad . . . w Aḷḷah w iṣṣubəḥ ğuw nās yā maṛḥabah yā maṛḥabah yā maṛḥabah w ğābuw lfuṭūr əw maṛḥab w Aḷḷah w ği’ . . . 48) əw lan ğayyt108 azzalamah b ṣaḥan šuġəḷ fattih . . . w Aḷḷah w ḥaṭṭ . . . gāḷ luh hāḏa ʿārif izzalamah hāḏa?

101 taṛāfag: a 2nd p. sg. masc. imperfect of verbal measure VI with reduced initial tt, see remark in De Jong 2011:176 (fn 80). intah: the final syllable (-ah) is haplologically dropped (against the initial ta- syllable of the following verb form). 102 Another narrative imperative, lit. “come (pl. masc.)!”, translated here as “they continued on their journey”. 103 iǧr, pl. iǧrān “foot”, also current in other dialects of southern Sinai. The root ʾ-ǧ-r is also current for “foot” in dialects of the Šām, see e.g. Hava 1982. 104 katt, ykutt or ykitt “go downstream in a wadi”. Going in the opposite direction is expressed by the verb sannad, ysannid “go upstream in a wadi”. 105 fakkar, yfakkir “look (at)”. 106 ʿaṛaffe’:ʿaṛaf + ha, total assimilation of initial h of pronominal suffixes to preceding voiceless consonants is regular (but optional), see De Jong 2011:56. 107 xannnī�-́ ṭawwil: xallnī� ́ aṭawwil. 108 ğayyt: ğayyah “coming (nomen vicis)”, for such use of the nomen vicis in construction, see remark in Woidich 1979:93 (5.5). 144 rudolf de jong

49) gāḷ luh aywah zzalamah hāḏa mīn? ilbāriḥ ligītuh nāyim ʿind ḥuṛəmtī� . . .́ gāl hāḏa waláduḳ . . . hāḏa waladī� . . . ́ (R) issāʿ fākir xaməstāšar sanah . . . 50) (M) gūm əysallim ʿa waladuh . . . əw hāḏiy ṯalaṯ ḥāğāt . . . nifʿin . . . (R) aywah . . . (M) ilḥikmah zamān innās . . . əbyištirūha b ğamál . . . yā ʿĪd . . . (R) ḥilwah . . . (M) salāmátuḳ . . .

Translation: Homecoming of a Migrant Worker

1) (M) In the old days . . . may God protect us from the evil of the bad old days . . . in the old days . . . that is . . . a boy . . . was working with people herding . . . herding camels . . . 2) and after that . . . he kept working with them herding camels . . . and . . . and the man (i.e. the owner of the camels) . . . in his land . . . there was no way to make a living . . . In the land of the man there was no way to make a living. 3) He got married to a woman, and after that he realised109 there were no opportunities (to make a living) . . . and he left her, the woman, went away from her . . . he left her, he left her and went away, 4) let’s say he heard about an area where life is good (lit. in wich there is good), like Sharm, like a land where life is good, like Holland . . . 5) He went and stayed away . . . stayed away . . . for fifteen years . . . How long did he stay away? Fifteen years. He (worked) as a herdsman with a man, with a man as a herdsman with him . . . a camel herdsman with him . . . 6) He stayed with him with the camels he had for fifteen years . . . After fifteen years the man gave him his pay, do you know (the word) krāh? . . . il’ikrih. 7) He said to you “this is your pay that I owe you for fifteen years (of work) . . . three camels . . . he put his camels in the palm of his hand, in his hand, and he returned . . . 8) He asked about (directions to) his land and what? to go home . . . As he was coming on the track . . . coming nearer his country, suddenly there was an old man fixing a teapot (??) . . .

109 fakkar, yfakkir: here “think; come to realise”, but in other contexts often also “look (at)”. texts in sinai bedouin dialects 145

9) and he was sitting . . . his beard was white . . . and (the hair on) his head was white of the time, he had passed through the world and had passed and had seen like mister Rudolf . . . (R) An old man too . . . 10) (M) Yes, he had gone to al-Arish, for instance, and gone and gone . . . he was seeing people and had seen people, that is, like you say, this old man . . . had . . . had many things . . . of what? Of the world in (terms of) experiences . . . 11) By God and he came . . . and found him . . . this man . . . he found him with his camels . . . He greeted him, he said “Welcome, sit down . . .” 12) He said “Oh old man, you, oh man, are sitting here in this isolated place . . . What do you do?” 13) He said “I . . . sell . . . wisdom . . . I sell wise sayings”. He said “you really sell wise sayings?” He said “Yes, I do” 14) He said “Oh man, the wise saying . . . people . . . exchange it among themselves, there is no selling or anything . . .” 15) He said “Well, I simply sell it . . .” He said “Okay man, sell me one saying . . .” He said “a saying costs a camel.” “A saying costs a camel?” He said “Yes, it costs a camel . . .” 16) He said “Very well, okay, sell me the first saying . . .” He said to him “the first saying . . .: wherever you are when evening falls . . . stay there (lit. throw out your anchor). The place (where you are) when evening falls . . . as soon as the sun goes away . . . stay there, sit down, sleep . . . don’t travel by night”. 17) “Bring the camel”. He gave him the camel . . . “Wherever (you are when) evening falls, stay there?” He said “Yes, just do as it says”. 18) He said “Good”, what . . . “I tell you what . . . give me another saying . . .” He said “Keep the camel of the second saying,”110 he said “Just say it . . .” 19) He said “Test the water (lit. sea), with somebody else’s lip. Don’t test it with your (own) lip”. 20) That is, the sea . . . Test it, try it . . . let someone else have a look at it . . . or the flood when it crosses (your path), let someone else try. Don’t go and try (yourself ) . . . 21) “Test the sea with someone else’s lip. Don’t go test it with your (own) lip . . . Get the second camel!” He said “there is one camel left. So tell me a saying and you (can) get it . . .”

110 The old man’s advice seems to boil down to “Why waste another camel on another saying? Better keep the second camel”. 146 rudolf de jong

22) He said “Don’t act before you ask . . . Don’t act . . . (commit) an act . . . unless you ask (first) . . .” And he gave him three camels and he went on his way . . . 23) By God, and he kept going on the roads, and went on and went on and went on, without a camel with him or anything . . . 24) and suddenly there he came . . . there was a man with a horse . . . a man . . . with a horse . . . and the mare was loaded with gold . . . 25) and he accompanied him on the way, they travelled together, they walked, they went and went a bit on the road . . . (and) the sun set . . . the sun . . . set . . . (R) [. . .] 26) (M) He said to him . . . “We should . . . stop (here) . . . to rest . . .” The man with the horse said “Oh man, you rest, but we still what? There is (still) sunlight . . . let’s go a little farther . . .” 27) The man said, he said “The sun is gone, let’s collect firewood (for ourselves) and see by the twilight, and let’s light ourselves a fire and prepare dinner for ourselves . . . 28) and we’d bump into each other by night . . . and, that is, what we’d walk by night[time] . . . we’ll walk tomorrow . . .” 29) He said “No, I’ll tell you what? I want to continue . . .” “Okay, man with horse.” 30) He answered and said “I’ll tell you what? I’m not moving from here . . .” and he sat down . . . rested . . . 31) By God, and he looked for a retem shrub111 (for himself) . . . Do you know the ratamah? (R) Ratamah, yes. 32) (M) And he made himself a place to sleep next to the retem shrub . . . and fell asleep . . . and he remained asleep . . . until day- break . . . When the day broke . . . off he went . . . walking the tracks on his feet, 33) without a camel (with him) or anything . . . Suddenly there was the horse . . . standing still . . . and (still) loaded up . . . he looked for its owner, and there its owner . . . he had halted the horse, and had gone to take a leak . . . as he was taking a leak . . . 34) he had tripped, he had tripped over what? Over what’s it called? A ridge . . . and he had fallen. By God, and he took the horse and went with it . . . 35) He came on the horse and he came walking . . . when he came walking and walking and walking, there was a man . . . a man, like ʿĪd . . .

111 Retem and acacia wood are considered to be the best firewood. texts in sinai bedouin dialects 147

36) and he was with camels and with (male) lambs and with goats, and (all of) God’s bounties. Greetings, welcome, where to? He said “By God, like this, and my errand is such and such”. 37) Where are you from and to? He said “I’m from such and such and my errand is also such and such (i.e. travelling in the same direction) . . .” He said “would you mind a travelling companion?” He said “Why not (i.e. why should I mind)?” By God, and they continued their journey, when suddenly the flood came . . . 38) it washed a trench in the wadi . . . a flood. (R) Yes . . . (M) He held back his horse . . . this other (man) said “You with the horse . . . ehm . . . test the flood . . .” He said “No, I’m not going to test the flood . . . I’m staying put until the flood subsides and (then) cut across . . .” 39) He said “No, I’m going to test it.” He said “If you want to test it, go ahead and test it . . .” By God, and this other (man) came and put his foot in the flood . . . 40) (but) the flood was strong and buried his foot and caused him to fall . . . it took him and carried him away. By God, as he remained behind with the lambs and the camels (all the time) until the flood had subsided . . . 41) and he got up and struck (to get them moving) the lambs and the camels and with all these (driving them) in front of the horse he went with them to his house. 42) He came to his house at night . . . He came to his house at night . . . When he came he looked and recognized (i.e. spotted) his house. He recognized his house . . . when he had recognized his house, he went (home) . . . 43) When he came home to his wife, he wanted to sleep beside her . . . But there was a man sleeping beside the woman . . . a man . . . 44) who was fifteen years old112 . . . sleeping beside her . . . [he went crazy] . . . and he went back (outside) to get the sword . . . He said “I have to get the sword and chop his head off . . .” 45) after that he thought . . . the man said, he said to me “don’t act . . . before you have asked . . .” Let me be patient until the morning comes . . . 46) and (let me) go to the magʿad to sleep there . . . and (later) ask and see if the woman has married after me. I have not divorced her . . .

112 It is not entirely clear what is meant here: either the man sleeping beside the woman was fifteen years old, or this man had been sleeping beside the woman for the fifteen years. The returning husband had apparently left his wife 15 years before, shortly after they were wed and unaware that she was already pregnant with their son. 148 rudolf de jong

47) By God, and he went to the magʿad and sat down (there) . . . By God, and in the morning people came (and said) “Welcome, welcome, welcome” and they brought breakfast, and said “Welcome, by God”, and he came . . . 48) and there (suddenly) the man came with a plate of fattah113 . . . By God, and he placed . . . He said to him “Do you know this man?” 49) He said to him “Yes”, “Who is this man? Last night I found him sleeping with my wife . . .” He said “This is your son . . .” “This is my son . . .” (R) He remembered fifteen years . . . 50) (M) He got up to greet his son . . . And these three things . . . were useful . . . (R) Yes . . . (M) Wisdom, people in the old days used to buy it for a camel . . . Oh ʿĪd . . . (R) Nice . . . (M) Greetings to you . . .

References

Bailey, Clinton. 1985. ‘Dating the Arrival of the Bedouin Tribes in Sinai and the Negev’. Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 28 (no. 1), 20–49. ——. 1991. Bedouin Poetry from Sinai and the Negev, Mirror of a Culture. Oxford. Clarendon Press. ——. 2009. Bedouin Law from Sinai and the Negev, Justice without Government. New Haven and London. Yale University Press. Blanc, Haim. 1970. ‘The Arabic Dialect of the Negev Bedouins’. Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities, Proceedings, Vol. 4, 112–150 (reprinted in Stewart 1990). De Jong, Rudolf. 2000. A Grammar of the Bedouin Dialects of the Northern Sinai Littoral: Bridging the Linguistic Gap between the Eastern and Western Arab world. Leiden. Brill. ——. 2002. ‘Notes on the Dialect of the ʿAbābda’. “Sprich doch mit deinem Knechten Aramäisch, wir verstehen es”, 60 Beiträge zur Semitistik, Festschrift für Otto Jastrow zum 60. Geburtstag, Werner Arnold and Hartmut Bobzin (eds.). Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz, 337–359. ——. 2011. A Grammar of the Bedouin Dialects of Central and Southern Sinai. Leiden. Brill. EALL. 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009 (four volumes + index vol.) Encyclopedia of Arabic Language and Linguistics. Kees Versteegh (gen. ed.), Mushira Eid, Alaa Elgibali, Manfred Woidich, Andrzej Zaborski (asst. eds). Leiden, Boston. Brill. Hava, J.G. 1982. Al-Farâ’id, Arabic-English Dictionary. Beirut. Dar el-Mashreq. Henkin, Roni. 2010. Negev Arabic, Dialectal, Sociolinguistic and Stylistic Variation. Semitica Viva Band 48, Otto Jastrow (ed.). Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz. Hinds, Martin and Said Badawi. 1986. A Dictionary of Egyptian Arabic. Beirut. Librairie du Liban. Holes, Clive and Said Salman Abu Athera. 2009. Poetry and politics in contemporary Bed- ouin society. Cairo, New York. American Univ. Cairo Press. Ingham, Bruce. 1986. ‘Notes on the dialect of the Āl Murra of eastern and southern Arabia’. Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies XLIX (Part I). ——. 1993. ‘The Sālfah as a Narrative Genre’. Asian Folklore Studies 52, 5–32.

113 fattah: a food dip with bread. texts in sinai bedouin dialects 149

Lane, Edward William. 1893. An Arabic-English Lexicon. Beirut. Reprint Librairie du Liban (1980). Palva, Heikki. 1977. ‘The Descriptive Imperative of Narrative Style in Spoken Arabic’, Folia Orientalia 18, 5–26. ——. 1991. ‘Is there a North West Arabian dialect group?’. In: Martin Forstner (ed.), Fest- gabe für Hans-Rudolf Singer, zum 65. Geburtstag am 6. April 1990, überreicht von seinen Freunden und Kollegen, I, 151–166. Frankfurt am Main. P. Lang. Seeger, Ulrich. 2009. Der arabische Dialekt der Dörfer um Ramallah. Teil 2: Glossar. Semitica Viva 44, Otto Jastrow (ed.). Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz. Shawarbah, Musa. 2012. A Grammar of Negev Arabic, Comparative Studies, Texts and Glos- sary in the Bedouin Dialect of the ʿAzāzmih Tribe. Semitica Viva 50, Otto Jastrow (ed.). Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz. Stewart, Frank Henderson. 1990. Texts in Sinai Bedouin Law, Part 2. The Texts in Arabic. Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz. Woidich, Manfred. 1979. ‘Zum Dialekt von il-ʿAwāmṛa in der östlichen Šarqiyya (Ägypten)’, Zeitschrift für Arabische Linguistik, 2, 76–99. Woidich, Manfred and Peter Behnstedt. 1980. ‘Zum Sprachatlas von Ägypten’, Zeitschrift für Arabische Linguistik 5, 176–192.

Lexical notes on the dialect of Mayadin (eastern Syria) in the late 1970s, with Jean Cantineau’s fieldnotes of 1935

Jérôme Lentin

1. Introduction

The city of Mayadin (l-Miyāḏīn) is located on the right bank of the Euphra- tes in eastern Syria, at a distance of about 40 km from Dēr ez-Zōr, on the way to l-Bu Kmāl, the last city before the Iraqi border, 70 km farther southeast.1 Between 1976 and 1981, a Franco-Syrian Archaeological Mission carried out excavations in the city and in the neighbouring (4 km south east) medieval fortress of Al-Raḥba (ar-Rḥaba in the local dialect).2 I was then a Research Fellow at the Institut Français d’Études Arabes of Damascus. Thanks to the kind invitation of Thierry Bianquis, the Director of the Insti- tute at that time, who was also the French Director of the archeological mission, I had the opportunity to join the archeological team and to spend several (enjoyable) weeks in Mayadin every year between 1977 and 1980, which provided the best conditions for an investigation of the dialect and for collecting linguistic material. In September 1977, a few weeks after my first stay in Mayadin, I visited Mademoiselle Lucie Cantineau, the daughter of Jean Cantineau (1899– 1956). She was still living, with her mother, at the family house in Sainte Geneviève des Bois near Paris. She showed me documents left behind by her father and did me the honor to entrust them to me, with a view to (or at least a hope for) their publication. Among these documents were fieldnotes, or more precisely small notebooks consisting of a linguistic questionnaire he had designed to gather data on various Arabic dialects. One of them concerned the dialect of Mayadin. This was of course an unexpected and lucky opportunity to compare my data with those

1 The population of Mayadin grew from about 1000 in 1875, 2500 in 1932, 15000 in 1970, 16000 in 1973, 49000 in 2003 to 70000 in 2010 (source: http://dbpedia.org/page/Mayadin and ʿAyyāš 1989 p. 71 for 1973). The number of 3000 given in the Guide bleu. Moyen Orient, Paris, Hachette p. 394 for 1965 (or, in the English edition, 1966 p. 490), has probably been taken from previous editions and seems to have been maintained unchanged. The number of 6000 given in his notebook by Cantineau for 1935 seems questionable. 2 See Bianquis 1989 and Honigmann & Bianquis 1994. 152 jérôme lentin collected by the great French linguist, and I am glad to be able to start here the publication of these precious documents. Thirty-five years have passed since my first fieldwork in Mayadin, and nearly eighty years since Cantineau’s cursory investigation. Even after (or: because) so many years have passed, I thought it would be interesting to publish my data together with his. This first contribution, dedicated to a great connoisseur of Bedouin dialects, is a first step towards a description of the dialect of Mayadin, in the limits of the available material. It is restricted to some lexical data. For my own work, I used the Questionnaire linguistique of Marcel Cohen.3

2. Šāwi Dialects

The so-called Šāwi dialects (or dialects of the Šawāya) are distributed over an extremely large area in Syria (Behnstedt 1997 map 517, Behnstedt 2009 map p. 405, where SD = Šāwi dialects). Only a few of them are documented, and often rather poorly. We have some information about the ‘syro-mesopotamian’ dialects of the š(a)wāya (“Ḥadīdîn, people of Rögga [Al-Raqqa], Mawâli, Nʿêm, Faḏ! ol”) in Cantineau 1936 and 1937 (see his syn- thesis in Cantineau 1937 pp. 110–113). Behnstedt 2009 p. 403 and especially Jastrow 1996 provide short lists of characteristic features.4 Jastrow’s data concern “the neighbourhood of Dēr iz-Zōr”, and seem to have the same origin as the text he published earlier in the Handbuch der arabischen Dialekte where he writes ( Jastrow 1980 p. 159): “The text is a sample of the Šāwi dialect as spoken by the rural population of the Middle Euphra- tes valley. The informant comes from an estate located in the immediate vicinity of Dēr iz-Zōr”. In addition to the numerous information registered in his Sprachatlas von Syrien, Behnstedt has published in his Volkskundli- che Texte (Behnstedt 2000 pp. 516–617) 23 texts in various Šawāya dialects, of which I have retained, for the sake of lexical comparison, 9 texts from the eastern region: from Ligrayye (subgroup IIIb like Mayadin to which it is close, point 173 in Behnstedt 1997; pp. 614–617), ʿAdle (in the direction of Ḥasake, subgroup IIIb, point 166; pp. 600–609) and Tall alʿAbd (close to

3 The words occurring in my recordings are not listed in this contribution. 4 It seems, however, that, compared to what can be deduced from Behnstedt’s map, Jastrow’s definition of the area of the Šāwi dialects is more restrictive: “a vast region of northern Syria, on both banks of the Euphrates, from the east of Aleppo to the Syrian-Iraqi border near Al-Bu Kmāl”. lexical notes on the dialect of mayadin 153

Ḥasake, point 158, subgroup IIIc; pp. 570–599). The other texts come from points 277, 241, 136, 137, 163 and from the Baggāṛa of the Jabal ʿAbd al-ʿAziz (35 km from Ḥasake). In the same book, Behnstedt gives (pp. 424–458) a grammatical sketch of Syrian Bedouin dialects, where information on the Šāwi dialects as a whole (as Dialekttyp),5 or occasionally on subgroups or precise dialects, can be found.6 Bettini has published extensively on Syrian Bedouin dialects, most of which can be labeled Šāwi: Bettini 1981 (a text from Tell Ṭayyeb), 1989–1990 (dialect of the Ǧbūr, with linguistic characteristics pp. 178–186 and four texts pp. 187–194), 1995 (three tales, by a glaʿiyye7 woman, settled in ʿAšāra, about 10 km from Mayadin in the direction of l-Bu Kmāl), and especially her outstanding book of 2006 (with a long grammatical sketch pp. 25–57 and 49 tales, of which 45 are in Šāwi dialects). Procházka 2004 and 2010 (with a text) provides very interesting documentation on Šāwi dialects of the region of Urfa (Şanlıurfa) in southeastern Turkey (about 50 km from the Syrian border).8 Also in Turkey, “The Bedouin dialects in the Antioch region are closely connected with the Bedouin dialects in northern and northeastern Syria, spoken by the Šāwi Bedouin” (Arnold 2006 p. 111). Detailed phonological and morphological information on these dialects is given by Arnold 1998 pp. 167–208 and maps 1–59 pp. 212–327 (as well as a few lexical information in maps 15–22 and 48–59). The Šāwi dialects are of course in close contact with other dialects of the area, not only with (sedentary or rural) Mesopotamian gilit dialects (from which they should probably not be set apart,9 even if their relationship

5 See p. 424. This has been already stated by Bettini 2006 p. 25, n. 1. 6 They are cited (‘ŠW’) 43 times: p. 425 (8 minimal pairs), p. 426 (forms in 2 precised dialects), p. 429 (form on a precise point), p. 430 (2 times), p. 431 (‘a good part of the dialects’; ‘dialects in many parts of the area’), p. 434 (‘Eastern dialects’; ŠW as a whole; ‘a few dialects’), p. 435 (about Cantineau), p. 439, p. 440, p. 441, p. 444 (2 times, and the paradigm of the VIIIth derived form perfect), p. 445 (‘near Ragga’; paradigm of the VIIIth derived form imperfect), p. 446, p. 448 (‘a few’ have the two types ruma and nisa), p. 449 (verbal morphology; ‘many’ have imši not imš; paradigm of the imperfect and imperative of yisǧi), p. 450 (tanwīn), p. 454 (independent and bound personal pronouns), p. 456 (ǧibtillak; adverb ‘here’), p. 457 (‘many’ have hēnak; 4 other adverbs, 3 of them with preponderant and rarer forms), p. 458 (preponderantly used adverb). 7 “The glaʿiyyīn [from al-galʿa, the fortress of Al-Raḥba] . . . consider themselves as the autochtonous inhabitants of the region, contrary to the inhabitants of tribal origin, who are called šawāya” (Bettini 1995 p. 25). 8 Unpublished texts are to be found in Knöfler 2002 (unpublished, cited by Procházka 2010 p. 121). 9 As a matter of fact, the Šāwi dialects are included by Jastrow in his presentation of Mesopotamian Arabic in Fischer & Jastrow 1980. The references to these dialects are: p. 142, l. –2; p. 143, l. 10, 11 & 16; p. 144, l. 18; p. 145, l. 16, 18, –3 & –2; p. 146, l. 1 & 26; p. 147 154 jérôme lentin still needs to be specified), but also with Bedouin dialects and with (sedentary) qəltu dialects, like those of the Khawētna (spoken in Syria, Iraq and Turkey, described by Talay 1997 and 2003, and belonging to the subgroup IV, along with the dialects of Dēr iz-Zōr and Albu Kmāl in Syria, and of ʿĀna and Hīt in Iraq, Talay 1997 p. 17). Even when they are typologically clearly distinct, all these dialects betray many similarities, especially in the lexical field. This is why I did not hesitate, in order to point to identical or cognate words, to refer to Woodhead & Beene 1967 (Iraqi gilit dialects), Johnstone 1969–1973 and Talay 1997 & 2003 (qəltu dialects), Holes 2001 and Kurpershoek 2005 (Bedouin dialects of the Arabian Peninsula) and even Landberg 1920 & 1942 and Piamenta 1990–1991 (for the southern part of the Peninsula).

Our knowledge of eastern (Arabian) Bedouin dialects has improved significantly since Cantineau’s pioneering articles, thanks to the work of many scholars like T.M. Johnstone, C. Holes and the Jubilar of this volume for the eastern part, and H. Blanc, J. Rosenhouse, R. de Jong and H. Palva10 for the western part. But the typology of these dialects remains an extremely complicated issue. For the gilit dialects which concern us here, and to which the Syrian Šāwi dialects are ‘akin’, fieldwork has still to be done so that we can get a clearer idea of their distribution. It is all the more true since, as is well-known, “gələt dialects . . . extend” out of Iraq “into Kuwait, the Persian Gulf, the Iranian province of Khuzestan11 and [. . .] northeastern Syria; more generally, they are akin to the Bedouin dialects of the fertile Crescent and the Arabian Peninsula” ( Jastrow 2007 p. 414). It stands to reason that dialects spread on such a vast area should differ in many regards, perhaps more than is commonly assumed.12 To come back to Syria, Bettini has repeatedly13 drawn attention to the difficulty of linking the various dialects she has investigated to the main subgroups

(independent personal pronouns); p. 148 (these pronouns + negation); p. 149, l. –4; p. 150, l. 22; p. 151, l. 16, 26 & –3; pp. 152–153 (perfect and imperfect conjugations). 10 Especially for the ‘Northwest Arabian Arabic’ he has identified (see Palva 2008). 11 “The dialect of Khuzestan is of the Southern Mesopotamian or gilit type” (Ing- ham 2007 p. 571). We owe most of our knowledge of the Arabic spoken in Khuzestan to B. Ingham, who has also reported on ‘a fringe Mesopotamian dialect’ spoken by Euphrates Bedouin (Ingham 2009), which combines southern Iraqi and northern Najdi features. 12 For southern Mesopotamian dialects see Ingham 1982 passim, especially pp. 17–22 (about the regions of the area concerned) and pp. 79–87 (‘Features separating southern Mesopotamia from Arabia’). 13 See particularly Bettini 1981 pp. 37–38; 1994a pp. 59–60; 1995 p. 25 n. 2; 2006 pp. 25–26. lexical notes on the dialect of mayadin 155 identified so far. As far as the Syrian Šāwi dialects are concerned, the partition into three subgroups (III a, b and c) proposed in Behnstedt 1997 map 517 has to be considered provisional. To take only the example of the dialect of Mayadin, which is supposed to belong to subgroup IIIb,14 the 2nd pers. fem. sing. of the imperfect is not tikətbīn but taktibīn (my notation) / taktöbīn (Cantineau’s notation).15

3. The Notebook ‘Mayâdîn—Raḥba’

In 1935, Jean Cantineau had already left Syria, where he had been staying between 1928 and 1933. He had started teaching at the Faculté d’Alger in 1933. He managed to go back to Syria in 1934, 1935 and 1936, mainly to finish his fieldwork on the Ḥōrān dialects.16 But during these stays, he also worked on the ‘parlers de Nomades’.17 His enquête in Mayadin took place in 1935.18 He made there a quick but ‘methodical’ survey of the dialect, with ‘Un homme de Glaʿyi [sic, for glaʿi, see n. 7 above], Mayádin’ as his informant,19 using, as he did for other dialectological enquiries, a questionnaire he had designed himself.20 This notebook, entitled ‘Mayâdîn—Raḥba’, measures 13,3 × 9,7 cm, and has 38 p. (numbered on the front side only, the back of the page being left free for additional notes, which means a total of 76 p.). It is organised in the following way: pp. 1–4 information about the city (p. 1 name of the city, p. 2 data on toponymy and religions, p. 3 population, tribes, p. 4 Nomads frequenting the area), pp. 5–38 linguistic data: pp. 5–8 names of the parts of the body, p. 8 names of the parts of the plough, p. 9 names of the parts of the yolk and of the goad, p. 10 names of agricultural instruments, p. 11 names of the parts of the horse collar, verbs and names related to ploughing, seeds and seeding, pp. 12–13 other names

14 Mayadin is not included in the 512 (508 + 4 omitted in the list of the Beiheft) points investigated in Syria for the Sprachatlas. For the concerned area, between Dēr izZōr (point 171) and Albū Kmāl (point 165), Zabāri (point 172) and liGrayye (point 173) have been investigated. 15 One cannot of course draw conclusions from differences like 3 masc./fem. pl. perfect -aw/-an in liGrayye (point 173 map 139) and -ow/-en (my data) / -ou/--ann (Cantineau’s data) in Mayadin. Should the two dialects concord in that respect (which has to be checked), such differences could very well be attributed to different transcriptions. 16 Marçais 1956 p. 153. 17 Cantineau 1936 pp. 6–12 and 1937 pp. 4–11. 18 Cantineau 1936 pp. 7–8. 19 P. 2 of his notebook. 20 “Au point de vue enquête grammaticale, j’ai fait des sondages méthodiques (au moyen de petits questionnaires préparés et polycopiés à l’avance) . . .” (Cantineau 1936 p. 4). 156 jérôme lentin and verbs related to agriculture, pp. 13–16 names and verbs related to domestic animals, pp. 17–21 questions about phonetics (by mean of questions about specific verbs and nouns), pp. 22–38 questions about morphology (pp. 22–26 independent and bound personal pronouns, pp. 26–33 verbs, pp. 33–36 nouns, p. 36 other pronouns, pp. 37–38 particles).

4. The Population of Mayadin

About the population of Mayadin, Cantineau writes: (p. 3r) “el-Bû Ḫalîl [el-Glaʿyîn of the fortress], Sedentaries. Turk? El Bû-Mustafa [Muṣṭafa], ʿAgêl”.21 About the dialect, he writes (p. 2): “Bedouin dialect, under which old rural local dialects can be perceived. On many points, one finds some fluctuation between rural and bedouin forms”.22 He adds (p. 1v): “In their talk, people seemed to use q and k.23 Our dialect is not very distant from the dialect of the Šawiye”.24 But Cantineau also writes, in his first article on Bedouin dialects: “The enquiries I made in 1935 in the cities of the Middle Euphrates: Dêr ez-Zōr, Mayādîn, El-bu Kemâl, Ƹanâ,25 Hît and Kbwêse, Rumâdi have shown that the dialects spoken by the sedentaries in these cities are deeply penetrated by nomadic influences, which appear in lexical and also morphological borrowings”.26 This could seem somewhat inconsistent, but his remark is quite general and concerns the whole

21 ʿAyyāš 1989 pp. 71–73 lists 14 groups. He mentions (group 8, p. 72) a colony of ‘Rāwiyyūn’, people from Rāwa (in Iraq). Talay 1997 (p. 17 n. 2: ‘personal research in April 1986 in Mayadin’) also mentions them, adding that they speak a qəltu dialect. Behnstedt 2009 p. 407 col. 2 mentions a group of the same origin in Albū Kmāl. 22 “Dialecte bédouin sous lequel on aperçoit des émergences d’anciens parlers paysans. Sur bien des points on trouve des hésitations entre des formes paysannes et des formes bédouines”. 23 “En parlant les gens paraissai[en]t employer le q et le k”. He probably had in mind: “they seemed to use also q (not only g) and also k (not only č)”, as will become clear (see below, and the glossary). 24 “Notre dialecte n’est pas très éloigné de celui des Šawiye [= Šāwiyye or Šawāya]”. 25 Sic, for ʿĀna. 26 “Les enquêtes que j’ai faites en 1935 dans les villes de l’Euphrate moyen : Dêr ez-Zōr, Mayādîn, El-bu Kemâl, Ƹanâ, Hît et Kbwêse, Rumâdi ont montré que les parlers de séden- taires de ces villes sont tout pénétrés d’influences nomades qui se manifestent par des emprunts de vocabulaire, et aussi de morphologie” (Cantineau 1936 pp. 7–8). Thanks to Mlle Cantineau, I have also in my possession the questionnaires then filled out with informants in the cities of El-bu Kämâl, ʿĀne (to follow Cantineau’s transcription on p. 1), Hît, Kbwêse and Rumâdi (but not the Dêr ez-Zōr questionnaire). I hope to be able to publish them elsewhere. lexical notes on the dialect of mayadin 157 group of these cities, some of which have indeed sedentary dialects (influenced by Bedouin dialects).27

Notwithstanding the cautious wording of Jastrow: “In all this area, only two or three riverside towns (Dēr iz-Zōr, Al-bu Kmāl, maybe Mayādīn) have kept a sedentary dialect” (1996 p. 376) it appears clearly that, to follow Cantineau’s first notation, Mayadin has a ‘Bedouin dialect’, and more precisely a Šāwi dialect. It must be stressed, however, that this description is a purely technical one: the inhabitants of the city would not admit that they speak a Šāwi dialect, and they would reject this description as pejorative, since they apply it to people of tribal origin (see n. 7) and/or to villagers.28 The phonology and the morphology of the dialect of Mayadin will not be presented here, and are left for a future publication. As appears clearly from the words listed in the following glossary (§ 6), typical phonological features are ǧ (ǧīm),29 the presence of interdentals (ṯ, ḏ, ḏ$ < *ḍ and *ḏ $ ),30 affrication of g (< *qāf )31 and k (to ǧ and č respectively) in the vicinity of front vowels, the absence of *ġ > q, and the gahawa-syndrome.

5. On the Glossary

In the following glossary,32 I have of course been faithful to Cantineau’s transcription, except on one point: when a word had only one long vowel written with a circumflex (â etc.), I have allowed myself to write it with the now standard length mark (ā etc.). In all the other cases, I have

27 The dialects of ʿĀna and Hīt belong to the Euphrates group of the qəltu dialects (but the dialect of the Karaite Jews of Hīt is strongly influenced by Bedouin Arabic, see Khan 1997). According to Cantineau’s fieldnotes, the dialect of Kbwêse seems to be of the sedentary type. 28 See also n. 23 J. Cantineau’s remarks. In the glossary, some words specifically attributed to the Šawāya by my informants are quoted. 29 A few examples of ž are attested, mainly for phonetic reasons or in borrowings from the standard language: ʿäžäl, žsūr (but sing. ǧisǝr), žämäl, žnāyne, tžawwaz, mǝdžawwez, žä, žābat, diǧ/žāǧ, rižǝl, råžęl, ʿažūze, ʿežel (but pl. ʿöǧûl ), farrūže, malāžim, nažžāra, nžä, anʿaže. 30 There is one example of ḍ: wuḍʿat. 31 Examples of q are attested, mainly in borrowings (including borrowings from the standard language): burtaqāl, brīq, baqče, ṯaqīl, šqad, ˀašqarāni, ṭarīq, maṭraq, maṭraqa, ṭāqat faraǧ, ṭāqiyye, qatal, qarfad/ṭ, qara, qarye, qazmä, qọṭọn, qallaʿ, qalīl, qahwa, qmāš, qawi, manṭiqa, naqqāša, warqa. 32 Among the 653 words listed, 496 have been collected by me and 239 have been collected by J. Cantineau (157 by him only; 82 are shared). 158 jérôme lentin

kept the original transcription (nʿâǧāt etc.). My own transcription is a compromise between phonemic and phonetic transcription, especially regarding short vowels. For the consonants, the following symbols are used (Arabic alphabetical order): ˀ, b (/ḅ), t, ṯ, ž/ǧ, ḥ, ḫ, d, ḏ, r (/ṛ), s, š, ṣ, ḏ! (/ḍ), ṭ, ḏ,! ʿ, ġ, f, g/ǧ(/q), k/č (/ḳ), l (/ḷ), m (/ṃ), n, h, w, y. Words are listed by roots (or pseudo-roots), in the Arabic alphabetical order. Phonemes and their allophones are kept together. Hence, a word with initial ǧ, for instance, can be listed either with words with initial ǧ or with words with initial g (q). The case of č is particular, and a word with initial č, for instance, can be listed either with words with initial k/č or with words with initial š, or even q, since č is either a local variant of etymological *š or the voiceless variant of the ǧ allophone of g. In these two last cases however, cross-references have been made when necessary. For a few items, when my notes are incomplete (regarding for instance the vocalic pattern of verbal forms), only the root is given (not the actual word). In the same way, certain meanings are followed by a question mark when I am not sure about them. “( JC)” before words means that the word(s) are taken from Jean Can- tineau’s 1935 fieldnotes. All the other words are from my own fieldnotes (1977–1980, mainly 1977). Other abbreviations used are: adv. (= adverb), Cl. Ar. (= Classical Ara- bic), coll. (= collective noun), fem. (= feminine), lit. (= literally), masc. (= masculine), ms (= Cantineau’s manuscript), n.un. (= nomen unitatis), pl. (= plural), prep. (= preposition), ref. (= reference(s)), sing. (= singular); ‘≠’ means ‘different from ’ or ‘contrary of ’.

6. Glossary

ʾ ʾaǧa → ža ( JC) ʾaḫad, yāḫod ‘to ʾarḏ$ ‘earth’; ( JC) ʾaroḏ$ take’ id.; → gāʿa ʾab ‘father’; → bw; ( JC) ʾǧl → ʿǧl ʾöbbahātna ‘our ʾāḫar; ( JC) ʾāḫer, fem. ( JC) ʾarḏāni$ ‘front ʾuḫut; ( JC) ʾöḫötna; fathers’ ʾoḫra, pl. masc. part (and back ḫawāti ‘my sisters’ oḫrīn, fem. oḫrāt part) of the ḥēlān’ ( JC) ʾebāʿer ‘camels’ ‘other’ ʾaḫḫ ‘brother’, → ḫw; ʾasǧarä → šiǧar ʾibǝn ‘son’ ( JC) ʾaḫūi ‘my ʾādami ‘man, person, ( JC) ʾösöm, pl. ʾosāmi brother’, ʾaḫūti ‘my guy’; → zlimä, råže̹l ʾibhām; ( JC) bhām, pl. brothers’ ‘name’ -āt ‘thumb’ eḏra → ḏry ʾaḫuḫ batta ‘nickname ( JC) ešše, pl. öšeš ʾoṯum, ( JC) ʾeṯöm, of the inhabitants ʾeḏne ‘ear’; ( JC) ʾeḏen, ‘point of the yolk’ ʾǫṯǫm, pl. ʾeṯāmi of Dēr ez-Zōr’ pl. ʾäḏān, ʾaḏānāt ʾaṣbiʿ, ʾaṣābeʿ ‘finger’ ‘mouth’ ‘id.’ lexical notes on the dialect of mayadin 159

( JC) ʾöḏfer$ , pl. ʾöḏāfer$ barāṯem ‘lip’; baṭǝn/baṭǝn, pl. bṭūn bhām → ʾibhām ‘nail’ → malāžim ‘belly’ buy ‘my father’ ʾakal, yākol ‘to eat’ əl-bāriḥ ‘yesterday’; buṭanči ‘mason’ bāb (imperative fem. ( JC) mbārḥa ‘id.’; → ( JC) ‘door’ bʿīr ʾebāʿer sing. ʾokli/kuli); ʾawwal ‘camels’; → ; žämäl būri, pl. buwāri ‘pipe, ʾáčǝl ‘food’; ( JC) bāred ‘cold’ tube’ ʾačal, (ʾakal) búgar; ( JC) bgara, barra bgörtēn bōṭ ‘boots’ ʾaluktak (? root lwk?) ( JC) ‘outside’ (dual), bgarāt bowāǧer = masaktak ‘I , , bōya ‘shoe polish; ‘car barrād ‘refrigerator’ bögar grasped you’ ‘cow(s)’ polish’ bardāt ‘curtains’ baqče h ʾallǻh ‘God’ ‘garden’ bī, ( JC) bī ‘there is’ brīq learned name of bagg ‘bedbugs’ ( JC) bībi ‘pupil (of the ʾēmät? ‘when?’; → the čaydän eye)’; → ṣöbi ʿäžäl; ( JC) ēmet buga ‘to remain’, bǟgi, brīǧ ‘(glass) water jug’ (Behnstedt 2000 bǟǧi ‘remaining’, byēt brīq ‘house’ p. 574 § 26 ēmit) (Dēr ez-Zōr , al-bāči ‘the remain- brīġ Šawāya ); ( JC) ing (part)’ bēt šaʿar, bēt ʿarab ʾumm ‘mother’; ( JC) brīǧ ‘coffee pot’ ‘Nomads’ tent’ pl. ʾammahāt ( JC) bečer, pl. bkār (= Gurbāṭ bǝrče ‘lake’; → buḥayra ʾenṯāye ‘female’ ‘heifer’ [Gypsies] ḫēme) borks ‘caravan’ (?) bakra bkār anʿáže → nʿž ( JC) , pl. , ( JC) bēdar ‘threshing barniyye, pl. barāni bakrāt ‘young floor’ ʾawwal ‘first’ ‘bottle’ (Barthélemy she-camel’ bīr bərniyye ‘well’ ʾawwal əl-bāreḥ p. 41 ‘small ( JC) bakra ‘shaft of the day before clay jug’) the ḥēlān’ bīse → bəsse yesterday’ barrāya $ $ ‘pencil bakkāra ‘caravan’ ʾabyaḏ, fem. byēḏa ʾawwalt ǝl-ʿām ‘two sharpener’ (cf. Piamenta I p. 37 ‘white’ years ago’ bazella ‘green peas’ ‘early rising’?) byēḏ$ ‘eggs’ ʾīd ‘upper limb’; ( JC) bəsse, bīse, al-bíse/ä bāčir ‘tomorrow’ bīl ‘torch’ (French pile ʾīd, pl. ʾīdēn ‘id.’ besse ‘cat’; ( JC) , böče, ( JC) beče ‘to cry’ ‘battery’) psās B pl. ‘id.’ ( JC) belče ‘maybe’ T bsāṭ ‘carpet’ b-/ba- (prep.) ‘in, at, (Behstedt 2000 tbl ‘to spit’ (?) etc.’; ‘with’ måḅṣūṭä ‘pleased, p. 584 § 64, Bet- tini 1995 p. 38 § 18 ( JC) tẹbẹn ‘chopped babbahān ‘cardamom’ happy (fem.)’ balči, Procházka straw’ baskōt ‘biscuits’ baḥr ‘sea’ 2010 p. 133 § 23 ( JC) tbana, pl. tobwan bäšäʿ belči; < Turkish) buḥayra ‘lake’, → bǝrče ‘not good’ ‘wheel of the ḥēlān’ (= mu zyēn) bint, pl. banāt ‘girl’; ǝ e baḫḫ, o ‘to sprinkle’ ( JC) taḫ t; taḫ t bóṣal, n.un. bṣala daughter’; (?) ‘seating of the ‘onions’; ( JC) baṣal diminutive/ ḥēlān’ burtaqāl ‘oranges’ ‘id.’ caritative form: bnäyye tḫn → ṭḫn ( JC) börṯom, pl. baṭāṭa ‘potatoes’ 160 jérôme lentin trb → ṭrb ǧaḥǝš ‘donkey’, fem. ǧākūk ‘small hammer’ Ḥ ǧḥaše; ǧaḥaš (smaller than taʿbān ‘tired’ ḥabb ‘trestle’; ( JC) ǧaḥaš, maṭraqa) ‘seed, grains’ tǝffāḥ ‘apples’ ǧḥāš ‘she donkey’ ḥobb ( JC) ǧeled, pl. ǧlūd ‘water-jar’ → mzammala; cf. taksi ‘car’ (Talay 2003 ǧidd ma ǧidd ‘skin’ ‘absolutely Behnstedt 1997 p. 300) ǧamǧūmah ḥubb seriously!’ ( JC) map 385 ; tämor ‘dates’ (other informant: Johnstone 1969– ǧadi ‘kid, young billy gamgūmat eṛ -ṛās) 1973 p. 108 ḥibb ‘a tūṯ ‘mulberries’; goat’; ( JC) ǧadi, ‘skull’ big water-jar’ → farṭūs pl. ǧadāye ‘id.’ žämäl ‘camel’ (→ bʿīr); ḥabbāba ‘grand twelken, twenten ( JC) ǧeḏaʿ, pl. ǧeḏʿān ( JC) ǧemel, pl. ǧmāl mother’ ‘super!, smashing!’ ‘kid’ (older than ‘id.’ (Procházka 2003 → skōp, golden, ǧadi), fem. ǧḏaʿa, p. 86); ( JC) id. ǧenna qọṭọn pl. -āt ‘female spirit’ ḥabǝl ‘rope ǧänīne ( JC) tōm ‘twins’ ǧrābāt ‘socks’ ( JC) ‘whey’; (for instance šärūne (→ šeǧāyat) → ‘clothes line’)’ ǧarbwä ‘dirty žnāyne ( JC) tēs, pl. tyūs ‘billy behaviour, dirty ‘(fighting) ( JC) ḥāǧeb [ms goat’ nature (of s.o.)’ (?) stick studded with ḥāǧed], pl. ḥawāǧeb nails’ (?); cf. dbs, ‘eyebrow’ Ṯ ǧrf → črf (K, Č) ḫayzåṛāne ḥǧar ‘big white stones’ ṯaleǧ ‘snow’ ǧo̊rḏi ‘rat’ ǧänb (prep.) ‘near, beside, next to’; ḥadīd ‘iron’ ( JC) ṯeḏi, pl. ṯēḏāye ǧarra ‘bottle’, pl. ǧrār → sadd- [so, with ḏ] ‘breast’ ‘bottle (pl. also ḥaddādä ‘blacksmiths’ ǧarāri?)’; ‘sack’ ǧwoyyid ‘good, fine’ ṯaqīl ‘difficult’; ( JC) ( JC) ḥaḏa, i ‘to shoe’ ṯīǧīl ‘heavy’ ǧara ‘a certain kind of ǧawwa ‘inside’; me̹ḥrāṯ ‘plough’ tilṯ (?) ‘a third’; ṯālte female spirit’ ( JC) ‘id’. ḥardān ‘angry; upset’ ‘third (fem.)’ (cf. ǧisǝr, pl. žsūr ‘bridge’ tžawwaz ‘to marry’, (= zaʿlān; cf. Cl. Ar. Jastrow 2007 p. 421 mǝdžawwez ‘mar ǧǝʿǝb ‘cigarette butt; ḥarida; Barthélemy Muslim Baghdadi ried (masc.)’ tlāṯa ‘three’) core (lettuce); runt p. 149, Landberg I (person)’; see also ǧāyiz ‘wood column’ p. 400) ( JC) ṯōr, pl. ṯīrān ‘ox’ kʿb žä, iži ‘to come’, → ( JC) ḥārr ‘hot’ Ǧ, (Ž) ǧaʿmūṣ ‘dry ʾaǧa; ( JC) ǧāʾ ‘id.’ excrement’ √ḥrk (pattern?) (see also Q) min ǧāy (used as an insult) ‘that way’ (?) ‘hair-slide’ ǧubb ‘well (in the žābat ḥörṃa ( JC) ǧofor, pl. ǧfār ‘to give birth to ( JC) ‘woman’ desert)’ a child (woman)’, ‘silo’; → ʿambar maḥrame; maḥramet → wuḍʿat; ( JC) ǧāb ( JC) ǧeben ‘cheese’ markazēt ‘white ( JC) ǧöfön, pl. ǧfūn, ‘to bring’ ( JC) ǧebīn, pl. ǧäbīnāt ǧufūnāt ‘eyelid’ kaffiyeh’ ( JC) ǧāla, pl. –āt ‘forehead, brow’ ( JC) el-ḥazz ‘now’; ‘horse collar’; → hassaʿ → keddāne lexical notes on the dialect of mayadin 161

( JC) ḥasad, e ‘to envy’ ( JC) ḥwār, pl. ḥẹ̄rān ḫarnab → mečlāh (šly) däbliyye ‘(usually ‘young camel’ plastic) water jug’; ḥašīš ‘grass’ ḫastāwi ‘a kind of cf. brīq, čaydän ḥyēṭ ‘wall’ tasty dates’ ( JC) ḥṣān, pl. ḥoṣon diǧ/žāǧ (coll.), ‘horse’ ḥēl ‘very, much’ ḫašab ‘wood’ n.un. ‑ä ‘hen’; ḥafar, i ‘to dig’ ḥēlān, pl. ḥayālīn ḫāšūg/ǧä ‘spoon’; ( JC) diǧāǧä (ms ‘threshing- ‘trowel’; → māleǧ, diǧaǧä), pl. –āt ‘id.’ ḥaffāye ‘sandals’ machine’; see masṭarīn darb [ḍarb] ‘path, ḥokūmä Behnstedt 1997 ( JC) ḫašim ‘nose’; ( JC) lane, track’ map 492 ḥīlān) ‘government’ ḫäšem, pl. ḫšūm mdagdag ‘tattoed ḥayye ‘snake’ (ḫšūmāt) ‘id.’ iḥáčūn ʿarabi ‘they (dugag? duqaq?) speak Arabic’ Ḫ ( JC) ḫaḏ$ ḏ$ ‘to churn’ on the face’ ḥläbät ( JC) ‘to milk ḫbūb ‘small pieces of ḫafīf ‘easy’ (elative duḫḫān ‘smoke’ (fem.)’ cloth’; cf. Bettini ʾaḫaff ) dukkān ‘shop’ ḥalīb 2006 p. 36 ḫibb ‘old ( JC) ‘milk’; ḫtalaf lsāno ‘he made läbän rag’ ndall ‘to find, to → a slip of the tongue’ locate (sth.)’ ( JC ḥalaṭ ḫo̊/ubǝz/s’bread’ ) ‘to pull out ( JC) ḫaḷḷa ‘to let’ (with the hand)’; ( JC) dämm [pl. ( JC) ḫter, a ‘to curdle Behnstedt 2000 ḫanṣer ‘little finger’ dmūm] ‘blood’ (milk)’ (see Barthé p. 554 § 4 (Beggāra lemy p. 193, Cl. Ar. ḫūy denga ‘pillar (suppor ḥalat ‘my brother’ dialect) ‘to ḫaṯira, Behnstedt ting the roof etc.)’ scrape’, cf. Cl. 2000 p. 594 § 120 ḫūt batta ‘sturdy’ Ar. ‘to shave (the dūde ‘worm’ ḫāṯir = liban, Pro head)’; ‘to pull out ḫāḷti ‘my maternal cházka 2010 p. 128 ( JC) dās ‘to thresh’ (the wool)’. aunt’ § 1 and 2011 id.) dōše ‘mattress’ maḥall ‘herbage, ḫyr → ḫatāyer ḫatāyer ‘old persons’ (cf. Behnstedt 2000 grassland; grass’ ḫayzarān ‘stick’; p. 586 § 70 dōšag) ḫo̊ḫš ‘great, wonder wullä ʿala ḥummāda → maṭraq ful’? → ḫōš, Bettini ( JC) dīč, dyūk ‘rooster’ ‘he went to the 2006 p. 367 with ḫayzåṛāne ‘(fighting) desert’; see ref. stick’; → dbs, žnn, ( JC) dīč ‘strengthen Landberg I sindyāne ing piece of the pp. 480–481) ( JC) ḫadd, pl. ḫdūd plough’ (see ḫuyūṭ ‘shoelaces’ Behnstedt 1997 ḥamāma ‘dove’ ḫrobǝt ‘are you map 477) exhausted?’ D ḥonṭa ‘wheat’; ( JC) Ḏ ḥõnṭa ‘id.’ ḫurṭūm ‘rubber dabbūse ‘(fighting) tubing, garden- stick studded with ḏǝbbān ‘flies’ ḥanṭūr ‘cart drawn by hose, etc.’ nails’ (cf. žnn, two horses’ ḫayzåṛāne) ( JC) ḏarrä ‘to winnow’ ( JC) ḫārūf, pl. ḫerfān ( JC) ḥeneč, pl. ḥnūk ‘lamb’ dǝbši ‘watermelon(s)’; ( JC) meḏrā, pl. ‘jaw’ → karadīš meḏāri ‘winnowing ḫrm ‘to get stoned (by fork’ ( JC) ḥōli, pl. ḥawāli, smoking tobacco); dobəl gȩr (English ḥôlîye ‘calf ’ to be exhausted’ double gear) 162 jérôme lentin

( JC) eḏra (céréale) rumād ‘ashes’; → ṣaffa, zlimä ‘man, guy’ sḫl → ṣḫl ‘(white) Indian šečen (→ råže̹l, ʾādami); msaḫḫam ‘filthy, full corn’ ( JC) zlame, zlömtēn ( JC) röma, yirmi ‘to of dirt (place)’; ‘id.’ ḏahab ‘gold’; ( JC) id. throw’ ‘care-worn, mzammala ‘water-jar’; overwhelmed with ḏīb ‘wolf ’ rāḥ, u ‘to go, to go → ḥobb problems’ (cf. away’; rayḥān R Barthélemy p. 337; ‘having gone away, ( JC) zend, pl. znūd µ Bettini 2006 p. 373 rubaṭ, yarboṭ ‘to tie having left’; ( JC) ‘lower part of the abu sḫām ‘what a rawwaḥ up’; rbáṭo ‘he tied ‘to go arm’ miserable life!’) him up’ (away)’ zahra ‘cauliflower’ sadd-(i/ak/ . . .) (prep.) rabīʿ ‘grass’; ‘spring’ mǝrtāḥīn? ‘are you zād u ‘near, beside, next (pl.) comfortable?’ , ‘increase in rubəʿ ‘quarter (1/4)’ value’ (≠ nzl) to (me/you/ . . .)’ rūsiyye ‘kalashnikov (Bettini 1995 p. 39 < zād mråbaʿ ‘a certain type rifle’ (lit. ‘Russian ‘also, likewise, and 2006 p. 373 of tent’ (fem.)’) (some) more’ with ref. b-sidd); zāġa → ǧänb rižǝl, ( JC) reǧel, pl. rād, i (1st person sing. ‘name of a reǧlēn ‘lower limb’ ʾarīd) ‘to want, to rather small black sader ‘heart’; → ṣdr wish’ and white bird’ råže̹l ’man, guy’ (more (cf. Barthélemy sarsale ‘shirker’ respectful than ( JC) rās; ṛās, pl. ṛūs p. 323 ‘crow’, ‘black (cf. Barthélemy zlimä; → ʾādami) ‘head’ raven’, < Persian) p. 341 and Wood head/Beene 1967 raḥmániyye ‘a certain Z zēt ‘oil’ kind of spirit’ p. 217 sarsari ( JC) zöbde ‘butter’ zyāra ‘visit’ ‘tramp’ and ( JC) raḥa, pl. erḥi Piamenta I p. 220 y ‘molar’ (Woodhead/ zatt, i ‘to throw’ (?) z ēn, fem. -a ( JC: ‘swindler’, ‘rogue’ Beene 1967 p. 184; zēna) ‘good, well’; ( JC) zäraʿ ‘to sow’ [< Turkish]?) Cantineau’s other mu zyēn ‘not good’ fieldnotes: raḥa in zargä soṭol ‘pail, bucket’ ‘blue (fem.)’ ( JC) zān, i ‘to weigh’ Rumâdi and ʿĀne, zaʿʿar sufle ‘lower’ (fem./pl.) ṭāḥūn in Hît and ‘to bray S ṭāḥūne in Kbwêse) (donkey)’ (cf. sfiniǧ ‘sponge’ Denizeau p. 220 sabag ‘to come before’ raṣāṣ ‘lead’ zaʿar ‘to roar’) ( JC) masgūfa ‘roofed ( JC) mesǧān ‘axle of (house) (fem.)’ raḏīʿa$ ‘foster sister’ zġīr ‘small, little’ the ḥēlān’ sāǧe ‘irrigation ( JC) rafīʿa ‘thin (fem.) tzakkar (*ḏkr) ‘to sḥy ‘to remove’; channel’; ( JC) saga remember’ misḥāye ‘shovel’; ( JC) rgoba, pl. rogbāt ‘to irrigate’ ( JC) mesḥa, pl. ‘neck’ mazkūm ‘having mesaḥ [mesāḥi?] sakratōn ‘cupboard’ caught a cold’ ( JC) rčeb ‘to get on’ ‘triangular spade’ mǝtsakkaʿ ‘fooling ( JC) zelʿōm, pl. ( JC) rökba, pl. rökbāt, saḫar ‘stones (used around slothfully’ zälāʿīm, zelʿūmāt ʾörkab ‘knee’; for house ‘Adam’s apple’ sič(č)īn ‘knife’ → ṣābunä foundations)’ skn → šk/čn lexical notes on the dialect of mayadin 163 skōp (bǝl-ʾalwān) map 115, in Urfa, ( JC) šeǧāyat tōm ‘one čanṭa ‘bag’ ‘super!, smashing! Procházka 2011: of two twins’ ( JC) šāhed, pl. (guy, situation)’ šabbūṭ) ʾašqarāni šuwāhed šuhādāt (from English ‘blond’ , šite ‘winter’ ‘forefinger’ (cinema)scope); šqy → šqq (šeǧāyat) → golden, twelken, šiǧar, n.un. šǧara, šahǝr ‘month’ šečen twenten, qọṭọn ʾasǧarä ‘tree’ ( JC) ‘(wood) ashes’ (cf. Cadora yišheg ‘he has səlok ‘head kerchief ’ šāḥūḏ/šaḥḥūḏ p. 74 n° 4 sačan hiccoughs’ ‘beggar’ ‘ashes’, Dēr ez-Zōr; salla ‘basket’ mušwār ‘outing’ Barthélemy p. 350 šuḫḫāṭa ‘match(stick)’ smiʿ, a ‘to hear’ sakan ‘ashes’, šāf, u ‘to see’; ( JC) (cf. Behnstedt 1997 Piamenta I p. 227 passive participle samak ‘fish’ (coll.; n.u. map 388 šiḫḫāṭ, [skn] zakan ‘id.’); mašyūf samakä) → čabbo̊ṭ šaḫḫāṭ (coll.); šḫāṭa → rumād, ṣaffa (n.un.); Bettini šāyǝb eš-šāyǝb sä/ama ‘heaven’ ‘old’; 2006 p. 375 šaḫāṭa; ( JC) šečwe ‘churn’ ‘my (etc.) father’; masnädä, pl. masānid Johnstone (Behnstedt 2000 šāyǝbnä ‘my (not ‘bench’; → ḳạṛạẉīt 1969–1973 p. 108 p. 600 § 1 šičwa) ‘our’) father’; šiyāb šuḫḫāṭ(a); Cadora ‘the parents’ (ǝ) šlōn id. sin dyāne ‘big (fold) n° 35 p. 46) ‘how?’; ( JC) stick’ (bigger than šīdu (ʿan)? ‘did they ( JC) mečlāh, pl. mäčāli ḫayzåṛāne šāḏūf ‘ax’ (?) ) ‘instrument used ask (about)?’ (pl.) sǝnūn, ( JC) senn, širib, yašrab ‘to drink’ for scratching the šēṭān ‘devil’ snūn earth’ (drawing pl. ‘tooth’ šāreb šuwā ( JC) , pl. by Cantineau, ms Ṣ säne ‘year’; la-s-sǝnt reb ‘moustache’ p. 8v, where the ʾaṣbiʿ ʾaṣāboʿ ǝǧǧāye ‘to next , ‘finger’ ( JC) šerǧi ‘Est’ two drills left by year’ the instrument are ( JC) ṣöbi ‘pupil (of ( JC) šärūne ‘whey’; bībi sōda ‘black (fem.)’ said to be called the eye)’; → → ǧänīne ḫarnab]). ṣabbāṭ] خرنب sāʿa ‘watch’ ‘tennis shoe(s)’ šaʿar ‘hair’; ( JC) id., The root is šly (cf. ṣḫala ( JC) sāg, pl. -āt ‘leg’ n.u. šaʿra Landberg III p. 2078 ( JC) ‘young she ‘to scarify, to make goat’ sūg ‘market’ šaʿīr, ( JC) id. ‘barley’ an incision’; see ṣḫr → sḫr Talay 2003 p. 382 sawwa ‘to do’ šaʿwaḏ ‘to be tricky, e sinuous, shifty, [čll] mǝčlēya with ( JC) ṣad r, pl. ṣdūr, stawa ‘to be ready, winding’ (?) description, d’Hont ṣdūrāt → sader done, cooked mešla (Behnstedt 2000 1994 p. 58 ( JC) ṣoṛṛa, pl. ṣorrāt (food)’ p. 588 § 81 šiʿwaḏa with a drawing) ‘navel’ Š, Č ‘magic’) šams ‘sun’ muṣrafāne ‘water šäbb ‘young man’ mšāġabe ‘disturbance; šmāḫ → yišmaġ container’ quarrel’ čabbo̊ṭ ‘fish’ (cf. šamm, yišimm ‘to ṣafḥa ‘side’ Behnstedt 2000 šqad, ( JC) šgad? ‘how smell, to sniff ’ (Kurpershoek p. 561 n. 2, much?’ p. 177) šǝnu/šǝ (?)trīd ‘what Behnstedt/ šigg ‘big tent’ Woidich 2011 do you want?’ 164 jérôme lentin

ṣābunä ‘knee’; ṭoṛba (pl. ʾatrāb?) ( JC) ḏayyeǧ$ , fem. ( JC) ʿereǧ, pl. ʿörūg → rökba ‘earth, soil’ (*trb) ḏāyǧa$ ‘narrow’ ‘vein’ ( JC) maṣfaʿ, pl. ṭarabēze ‘table’ ʿ ʿirrīs, ( JC) ʿärrīs ‘bride- moṣfaʿāt ‘nape of groom’ (Behnstedt ṭåṛṛāde ‘small row ʿaǧūz, ʿažūze, ( JC) the neck’ (Behn 2000 p. 572 § 14 boat’ (Woodhead/ ʿaǧūz ‘old woman’ stedt 1997 map 325 etc.); ( JC) ʿarūs Beene 1967 p. 288) miṣfaʿ) ( JC) ʿežel, pl. ʿöǧūl ‘big ‘bride’ ṭarīq ‘way, road’ calf ’ ṣaffa ‘cigarette ash’; ʿrf auxiliary verb: → rumād, šečen maṭraq ‘stick’ ʿäžäl ‘when?’ (in a a) tsaʿrif tsismaʿ? → ḫayzarān song) (≠ ʿaǧal, ‘do you appreciate yaṣfir ‘to be cooing Talay 2003 p. 354, what you are liste (pigeon)’ maṭraqa ‘hammer but cf. ʿaǧal šlōn ning to?’; b) ʾaʿrif (bigger than ( JC) ṣalla ‘to pray’ ‘wie . . . wohl . . .?’ ʾaktib ‘I can write’ ǧākūk )’ and cf. Holes ṣannet ‘listen!’ (cf. Vth ʿaräg ‘sweat’ ṭalaʿ, yaṭlaʿ ‘to climb, pp. 5–6 √ʾJL and form, Bettini 2006 to go up’ (also ‘to Jastrow 1978 p. 122 ( JC) ʿörwa ‘ring for p. 378 with ref.) go out, to leave’, məǧəlayš ‘why?’) drawing the ḥēlān’ wallä ( JC) ṣūṣ, pl. ṣīṣān, = ) ʿaǧi ‘baby’ (Behnstedt ʿzäba ‘single, unmar ṣwāṣ ‘chick’; ṭāqat faraǧ ‘a hope of 2000 p. 578 § 46 ried (fem.)’ → farrūže (Tall alʿAbd) ‘child’ improvement’ (lit. ʿazzam ‘to invite’ ṣayyad ‘to fish’ ‘window of release’, and § 44 alʿaǧīyāt y in coffee cup ‘die Mädchen’; ʿašīra tribe’ ṣ ēf ‘summer’ reading) Bettini 2006 p. 381 ʿaǧi, pl. ʿiǧyān ‘kid’, ( JC) ʿaṣab ‘muscle’ ṣār lo wlǟd ‘he had ṭāqiyye ‘cap’ (‘pl.’ = coll.) children’ with other ref.; ṭawīl ‘long, tall’ Behnstedt 1997 ʿaṣfūr ‘(small) bird’ *Ḍ see Ḏ# map 342 ʿaǧawīn, ṭy → ʿṭy ʿiǧyān ‘children’; ʿaṣāye ‘stick’; ( JC) Ṭ ʿaṣa, pl. öʿṣi, öʿṣyān ṭayyeb ṭayyib Woodhead/Beene ; ‘(still) ‘goad’ ṭabb ʿala (?) l-bāb ‘to alive’ 1967 p. 237; knock the door’ Piamenta II p. 317; aʿṭa ‘to give’; ṭīni čāy ṭēr ‘bird’ ṭabaḫ, yaṭbaḫ (1st Cl. Ar. ʿaǧā ‘to ‘give me some tea’; person sing. ʾaṭḅaḫ/ Ḏ̣ (and *Ḍ) breast-feed → nṭy ʾaṭbiḫ) ‘to cook’ (a baby)’) ḏarab$ , o (to̊ḏro̊b$ ) ‘to ( JC) ʿaḏ$ am, pl. aʿḏām$ ṭābūg, ṭābūge hit’; ḏrōb!$ ‘row!’ ( JC) ʿödde ‘plough’ ‘bone’ ḏarab$ ‘pavement’ (?) → ġny; ( JC) ( JC) ʿadas ‘lentils’ ʿugrug ‘frog’ ‘to hit’ ṭabla ‘saucer’ ʿdālo ‘(the) equivalent (Behnstedt 1997 ḏaʿīf$ ‘weak’ map 442) ṭaḫḫān ‘rotten, in a to it/him’ bad state’ (?) (cf.? ( JC) ḏah$ ar, pl. ḏhūr$ , ʿarabāna/ä, ( JC) ʿagʿag ‘(having a) keen Denizeau p. 325: ḏhūrāt$ ‘back’ ʿarabāne ‘any kind sense of smell’ (?) Lebanese ṭḫīn ( JC) ḏoh$ or ‘midday’ of cart’; ( JC) ʿölba ‘milking ‘rough’, < tḫn) ‘wheelbarrow’ pot’; → ǧeḏrīye lexical notes on the dialect of mayadin 165

ʿaläf ‘fodder, cereals ġādi ‘over there’ ( JC) farrūže, pl. fhm VIII ‘to etc. (to feed (for example ‘in farārīǧ ‘chick’; understand’ animals)’ Damascus’, ‘in → ṣūṣ fāt u fut! France’, ‘in the , ‘to come in’, faras fawtu! ʿalīǧe ‘sack, bag’ other house’ etc.); ( JC) ‘mare’ ‘come in!’, (Bettini 1995 p. 35 ‘bring him in!’ ( JC) id. fǝrša ‘brush’?, § 8, 2006 p. 381) fāš ġarǝb ‘willow’ (used ‘paintbrush’? ‘to rise (dough)’ ( JC) ʿalēš? ’why?’; for wood pulp) furrāše ‘butterfly’ (Ǧezīre: faydūs ‘rest, → lēš (Cl. Ar. ġarab) break, pause’) farṭūs ‘mulberries’; maʿallȩm ʿa l-may ‘he < ġråb ‘raven’ → tūṯ fīš ‘plug’ (French can swim’ (lit. ‘he fiche) learned water’) ( JC) ġörbāl, pl. ġarābīl f ̣ạṛāfīš ‘heart, lungs ‘sieve’ and other edible Q, G/Ǧ, (Č) ʿalu ‘turkey cock’? internal organs (of ( JC) ġarbal ‘to sieve’ gǟʿa ‘earth, ground’; ( JC) ʿambar, pl. an animal)’ (fem.) ( JC) gāʿ ‘id.’ ʿanāber ‘silo’ ġarrāf ‘a type of farrag ‘to distribute, (Bettini 2006 p. 382 irrigation machine’ gubba to share out ‘dome’ ʿam/nbar with ref.); ġaḏā$ ḏa$ ‘head (supplies)’ → ǧofor gabbar ‘to jump; to kerchief ’ furn ‘(oven of the) rush’ (Talay 2003 ʿammar ‘to build’ gabbaṛ ( JC) ġalīḏa$ ‘thick baker’ p. 375 ‘to jump’; cf. Cl. Ar. ʿǝnd-o ‘he has’ (fem.)’ fransä ‘France’ ṭabara ‘to jump’, al-ʿanǝz ‘the goats’; ġamīǧ ‘deep’, elative for ṭ↔ q, see Lentin l-frǟ ‘the Euphrates ( JC) ʿamz ʾaġmag; ( JC) ġamīǧ 2005) river’ (apparently so, ( JC) ġanam (coll.) go̹båḷ ‘in front; with m) ‘goats’ faṣūliye ‘beans’ ‘sheeps’ straight on’ ʿankabūt ‘spider’ ( JC) faṭīme, pl. ġanna ‘to row’? gablȩč ‘before you faṭāyem ‘she lamb’ al-ʿām ‘last year’; → ḏarab$ (fem.)’ → ʾwl fuḏ$ ḏa$ ‘silver’ F čiblä, ( JC) ǧüble ( JC) ʿöwwān ‘name of fāḏi$ ‘south’ fās ‘small mattock’ ‘empty’; ( JC) a seed (‘= lūbye’)’ faḏîye$ ‘large’ (fem.) (→ naqqāša), ‘hoe’ qatalo ‘he killed him’ (cf. Jastrow 1980 fälaḥ (Šawāya: ǧital, p. 160 § 17 ʿuwwēn) ifatteḥ ‘he opens ( JC) ‘to plough’ ǧtalo); see also [for instance ‘on ʿēbe ‘a certain kind of flāḥa ‘field’ čätäl Friday’]’ cloth’ (= ʿabāya in fallīne ‘stopper, gadar, yigdar (1st other dialects) ( JC) foḫoḏ, pl. fḫāḏ top’ (?) person sing. ‘thigh’; ‘side of the ʿǟn ‘eye’; ( JC) ʿēn, pl. ʾagdär) ‘to be able’, ḥēlān’ finǧān ‘elbowed ʿôyūn ‘id.’ wrench’ → ġdr; ( JC) qeder fo̊ḫəḏ ‘a subdivision of (so, with q but Ġ the ʿašīra’ fann ‘to slew (sth.) with a question ġdr, a ‘to be able’ → round’ (?) mark), yigdar ‘id.’ faraset ‘it [the gdr tomato] burst’ 166 jérôme lentin

ǧidriyye ‘pot’; ( JC) ( JC) gaṭrīb (peg (?) of gamol ‘lice’, ( JC) čabbo̊ṭ → šbṭ ǧeḏrīye (so, with ḏ) the plough, where gamla ‘louse’ čiblä → qbl ‘milking pot’; the handle and the ghawä, qahwa, ( JC) → ʿölba beam cross); ( JC) čätälnē ghawa ( ‘he killed me’ gaṭrībe ‘peg of the and with ( JC) ǧedem, pl. ǧdūm el-eghawa, (in a song) (< *qtl; ḥēlān’ article ‘foot’ dual ghawtẹ̄n) Bettini 1995 p. 34 § 12 čital) goṭ‚ on‚ ‘cotton’ ‘coffee (beverage)’ ǧiddām (prep.) ‘in čiṯīr, elative ʾakṯar font of ’; (adv.) qọṭọn ‘super!, gå< l, u ‘to say’ ‘numerous’; (adv.) ‘ahead, in front’ smashing! (girl)’; gām, u ‘to stand up’ ‘much, a lot’; ( JC) → skōp, golden, ( JC) ǧeddūm, pl. čeṯīr ‘numerous’ twelken, twenten ( JC) [gāma], pl. ǧedādīm ‘hoe’ gowāyem ‘lower ( JC) četef, pl. čtūf, gāʿed yiḫtaṣṣ ‘he is ǧaryēb ‘near’ limb’ četūfāt ‘shoulder’ going to specialise grāʿ ‘bald’ (medical doctor)’ qawi ‘strong’ ( JC) kuḫḫ ‘cowshed’ qrf ‘to twist, to wrong’ galọb, ( JC) gålb, al-guwwa!, Aḷḷa ( JC) kdīs, fem. čedīše pl. glūb ‘heart’ ygawwīk! ‘(may pl. kudös qarfad/ṭ ‘to turn out, God give you) ‘draught-horse’ ‘to fall’ (?) galleb ‘to turn upside strength/health’ down, to turn up, ( JC) keddāne ‘horse gargūr (greetings) ( JC) , fem. down’ collar’ (Behnstedt gargūra, pl. garāǧīr gīdo ‘Military 1997 map 86 ki/ ‘big lamb’ gaḷḷabiyye ‘a certain Police’ (?) addāne; Barthélemy kind of cloth’ qara, i ‘to read’ p. 707 kaddāne; K, Č golden ‘super!, Denizeau p. 446 ǧarye; qarye ‘village’; smashing’; → skōp, ( JC) čânūn ‘stove kuddāniyye, grāyä ‘suburbs’ twelken, twenten, (in the ground)’ palestinian); → ǧāla qọṭọn mãngal qazmä ‘pickaxe’ (≠ ) käḏä ‘so, that way’ š galleʿ, qallaʿ ‘to pull čāy ( JC) geš ‘whole straw’ ‘tea’ karadīš ‘watermelons’ out, to expel’; ʾoglaʿ (word used by the ( JC) ǧešwa ‘cream’ ‘out! clear out!’ kabb ‘to knock over’ (lit. ‘foam’) Šawāya; the local migläʿ ‘quarry’ ( JC) čebde, pl. čbūd, word is dǝbši) gäṣṣāba ‘butchers čebdāt ‘liver’ (≠ Denizeau p. 448 (who slaughter the qalīl ‘little, not much’ čebīr, ( JC) čebīr ‘big’, ‘flat breads’) animals)’ (adv.) ‘aged’ ( JC) kurr, pl. krār guḷḷa guḷaḷ gaṣīd ‘poem’ , pl. ‘marble ‘young donkey’ (game)’ kbęrna ‘we have gāṣǝr ‘short’; ( JC) id. grown old’ ( JC) kuṛṛa ‘young she gaṣer gumåṛ ‘moon’ (ms ) kabbās ‘pocketknife’; donkey’ qmāš gaṣīre ‘shirt’ (cf.? ‘cloth’ → mūs čäriš, ( JC) čerš, pl. -āt Piamenta II p. 401 gamgūma → ( JC) čebeš, čbāš [ms ‘lower part of the gaṣīräh ‘kind of ǧamǧūma čbaš] ‘ram, male belly’ short coat’) sheep’ lexical notes on the dialect of mayadin 167

( JC) mečrafa, pl. čalǝb, pl. člāb ‘dog’; mkayfīn? ‘are you M mečāref ‘hoe’ ( JC) čelob, pl. člāb enjoying ( JC) meten, pl. metūn ‘id.’ yourselves?’ čerče ‘calf ’ ‘upper part of the klāš ‘a kind of sandals L arm’ karamēl ‘sweets, (usually made of candies’ lāʾ mūḫḫ ‘brain’; ( JC) rubber from used ‘no’ ( JC) moḫḫ, pl. mḫāḫ karnak ‘bus’ (name tyres)’ läbän ḥalīb ‘milk’ (→ ); ‘marrow’ of a trademark; cf. mečlāh → šly ( JC) ‘yoghurt’ Behnstedt 2000 mara ‘woman; wife’; malāžim p. 578 § 43 & 579 ma bi/o klāye and mā ‘lips’; mrato ‘his wife’ börṯom n. 2) min čalāye ‘it is not → marīḏ$ ‘ill, sick’ difficult’ ḳạṛạẉīt, pl. -āt lḥāf ‘blanket’ mrǝgä ‘stock, sauce’ ‘wooden bench, čam yōm ‘a few days’ (Behnstedt 2000 p. 576 § 31; Talay with cushions’ masṭarīn ‘trowel’; čiminto ‘cement’ 2003 p. 383) (Barthélemy p. 738 → māleǧ, ḫāšūgä g/karawīt čanṭa → šnṭ milḥaf ‘sheet’ < Turkish); māṣūr ‘dowry’ ṭḳạṇṭạḳṭ ‘to alḥáma ‘meat’ → masnädä moṣāri ‘money’ short-circuit ǝ ( JC) läḥye, pl. läḥyāt, k rīk ‘shovel’ (intransitive)’ ( JC) möṣrad (so, with leḥa ‘beard’ d), pl. maṣârîn kss → kws ( JC) čenna ‘daughter- yilzamu ‘he needs’ ‘intestine’ kassāra ‘crusher’ in-law’ līssa-h ‘he is still . . .’ moṭar ‘rain’ ( JC) česeʿ, pl. čsūʿ kūs ‘cunt’ lisān (?) lsān maṭōr ‘moped’ ‘elbow’ kwayyes ‘good, fine’ , ( JC) , lesneh ‘tongue’ čäʿb ǝl-mōt ‘ankle’; (elative ʾakwas) maṭōrāt ‘farming lǝffe ‘head kerchief ’ ( JC) čaʿab, pl. čʿūb, kawākeb ‘heavenly machines’ kʿūb ‘ankle’ bodies, stars, ( JC) legaḥ ‘to throw’ ( JC) möʿze ‘goats’ planets’ (coll.) ( JC) koʿob, pl. kʿūb laga (1st pers. pl. ‘heel’; for kʿb, see kwn III ‘to fight laǧēna, but lägēto ( JC) mofṣel, pl. also ǧǝʿǝb (with s.o.)’, VI ‘to ‘I found him’), ( JC) mafāṣel ‘wrist’ čaʿče ‘a kind of bread fight (with one läga, yelga ‘to find’ another)’; kwāne ( JC) yimken ‘maybe’ with a whole in ( JC) lōḥ, pl. lōḥāt ‘fight, brawl’ māleǧ the middle’ ‘shoulder blade’ ‘trowel’; čaydän ‘teapot’ → ḫāšūgä, masṭarīn käffe ‘hand’; čäffäk lūk ‘plastic’ (?) ‘done! it’s a deal!’ (cf. brīq) mȩlǝḥ ‘salt’; ‘poem’ lwk → ʾlk (lit. ‘your palm’); čīs ‘bag’ ( JC) mölīḥa ‘good, ( JC) čäff, pl. čfūf b-kīfak, b-kīfeš etc. ‘at ( JC) lēš? ‘why?’; fine (fem.)’ ‘hand’ → ʿalēš your (sing. masc., malyān ‘full’ kāfiyye, kaffiyye ‘kaffi- fem.) etc. lyēl, läyl ‘night’ yeh (head convenience’ mnōb (adv.) ‘more, kerchief)’ again’; ‘also’; (prep.) ‘beside’: 168 jérôme lentin

mnōba? ‘is there nādūse, pl. nwādīs n(a)hār ‘daytime, day’ wadda ‘to give’; some one beside ‘small sickle’ waddā-lo ‘he nå< r ‘fire’ her?’ (= ġēra) gave him’ ( JC) naḏwa, pl. nām, a ‘to sleep’; ‘to ( JC) mönḫer, pl. naḏāwi ‘shoe’ (to warqa, pl. āt and be lying (on a bed manāḫer ‘nostril’ shoe an animal) ʾawrǟg ‘paper, etc.), to rest’ paper sheet’ ( JC) mohra, pl. mhāṛ yinzaʿ ‘he is about nāwišni ‘give me’ ‘filly’ to die’ (Cl. Ar.; wassa (so, with s) ‘to Barthélemy p. 822 nāb [nâbât] undertake sth. for māt ‘to die’ ( JC) , pl. , nāzaʿ ‘to be dying’) nyāb ‘canine’ s.o.’ mōt ‘death’ nizil ‘to come down, ( JC) nīr ‘yolk’ ʾaṣof ‘describe (the mūs ‘pocketknife’; to go down’ beloved)!’ nāga nyāg kabbās (→ nžä?); ‘to lose in ( JC) , pl. → ( JC) waṣel, yeṣal ‘to value’ (≠ zād) ‘she camel’ ( JC) māš ‘name of a arrive’ ( JC) nesa, a ‘to forget’ H certain seed’ [it is a ( JC) wåṣöl ‘last part leguminous plant: naššāba ‘sling’ hā ‘yes’ of the beam of the Indian cowpea; see plough’ (?) nšado hāk/hāč ‘take (that), d’Hont 1994 p. 148] ‘he questioned (Behnstedt 1997 him’; ʾarīd ʾánšido here you are!’ moy; ( JC) mwåyye map 479) ‘I want to ask him’ ( JC) hadab ‘eyelash’ ‘water’ wṣy → wsy nuṣṣ ‘middle’; bä́-n- mīn? (also for pl.: hdūm ‘clothes’ nọṣṣ ‘in the middle’ wuḍʿat (so, with ḍ?) šǝnumma ) ‘who?’ haḏōle ‘these’, haḏōlāk ‘to give birth to a manṭiqa ‘district’ N ‘those’ child (woman)’ → nṭēni ‘give me’; ( JC) žābat nabʿiyye ‘well (for haḏāk, ( JC) haḏāč ʾanṭa ‘to give’ (ʾön irrigation)’ ‘that one’ twaffä ‘to pass away’ ṭāni, yanṭīni); → ʿṭy nažžāra ‘joiners’ hassaʿ ‘now’; hassaʿ mōged ‘fireplace’ anʿaže; ( JC) nʿaǧäh, ǧāye ‘she is ( JC) minǧäl; menǧel, pl. nʿâǧāt ‘ewe’ coming right now’; ʾabu tagaʿ ‘very strong menāǧel (tobacco)’ (lit. pl. ‘sickle’ naffāḏa$ → el-ḥazz ‘ashtray’ ‘which lets you fall naǧm ‘star’ (Behnstedt 1997 ( JC) hnāk ‘over there’ down’) map 387) nžä ‘to come down, hawa ‘air’ wāgẹ̄f ‘standing’ to go down’ (?); naqqāša (with q → nizil pronounced close ( JC) hīč ‘so, in that wake̹t, pl. ukāt ‘time’ to [k]) ‘small way’ (Behnstedt 2000 naḥās ‘copper’ mattock’; → fās hyēn; ( JC) hēn ‘here’ p. 578 § 41) naḥal ‘bees’ ( JC) mãngal ‘stove’ W wiləd ‘boy’ (in Bettini ( JC) nḫala ‘palm’ (≠ čânūn) 1995 p. 30 § 27, wattar ‘to have an p. 31 § 30 wilid is nāmǝs nādūse ‘instrument ‘mosquitos’ erection’ a pl. form); form used to lift up the namǝl ‘ants’ wadd → wld of address: ya wal straw’ (?); ( JC) (and ya wadd?); pl. nahor ‘river’ ʾulād and (?) wilǟyd lexical notes on the dialect of mayadin 169

(cf. Jastrow 1980 the inventor, C.K. Y 2006 398 yišmag); Welch) → šmāḫ p. 206 n. 2, Bettini ( JC) yāḫūr ‘cowshed’ 1995 p. 28 § 16 & walwalīn ‘a kind of yamm (prep.) ‘of, yaddä ‘handle’; ( JC) 18, p. 31 § 29, oily paste used to belonging to, etc.’ yedde ‘handle of Behnstedt 2000 grease certain parts (more or less the plough’ p. 592 § 112 wēlād) of a car’ (?) equivalent to tabaʿ ‘children’ yišmaġ in other dialects) wallä ‘to go out, to ‘head kerchief ’ (Talay 2003 p. 403 wiliš ‘inner tube’ (car leave’ (= ṭalaʿ) l-yōm ‘today’; ( JC) yašmaṛ; Bettini wheel)’, probably el-yom [sic] id. from the name of wns (<ʾns)

References

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Chapter 504 and modern Arabic dialectology: What are kaškaša and kaskasa, really?

Jonathan Owens

Sibawaih’s description of the 2FSG object variants -kiš and -kis has gener- ated a good deal of discussion among Arabicists. Whereas some, such as Barth (1911) have taken the forms at Sibawaih’s face value, others, such as Johnstone (1963) have identified them with the contemporary affricated variants -tš and -ts. This paper argues that Johnstone’s position is basically correct. It does this by bringing together evidence from two diverse sources. On the one hand it is shown that the contemporary distribution of the variants forces a reconstruction of -tš, and perhaps -ts, which actually predates Sibawaih’s Kitaab. On the other, a careful reading of Sibawaih himself shows that he described the form -tš among what he classifies as non-sanctioned sounds. After arguing this second point, the question is addressed, if Sibawaih did in fact have at least a -tš in his phonetic inventory, and perhaps a -ts as well, why he spoke of -kiš (and -kis), rather than -tš (and -ts).

Introduction

With Sibawaih, small chapters often hide issues of larger importance, and their interpretation requires bringing to bear evidence from a variety of sources. These are, in the first instance, an understanding of Sibawaih’s goals, methodology and linguistic theory. What further sources may be relevant depends on the issue involved. A source that has traditionally been less appreciated among Arabicists in the historical interpretation of the language is the contemporary Arabic dialects, which play a crucial role here. In this small contribution I would like to relate a basic observation on object pronouns in Sibawaih to larger issues of Arabic historical linguistics. The discussion begins in sections 1 and 2 with Sibawaih’s observations on the four variants of the 2FSG oblique (object, possessive) pronoun suffix. Following a suggestion by Johnstone (1963), it is argued that of the two variants, nominally -kiš and -kis, the first definitely and the second possibly, is identical with the modern variants, -č ([tš]) and -ts respectively (section 3). 174 jonathan owens

Thereafter, the rest of the paper addresses the issue of why, if indeed Sibawaih would have heard -č and -ts, he nonetheless interpreted them as -kiš and -kis. To answer this question, three differentiated linguistic issues are examined in detail. The first is phonetic. It will be shown in section 4.2 that Sibawaih did in fact, among a set of eight proscribed sounds, observe the variant [č]. A key aspect of the argumentation in this section leads to an interpretation of Sibawaih’s system for identifying non-basic Arabic phonemes. Secondly, from a sociolinguistic perspective it will be shown that as it is among the proscribed variants, Sibawaih could not have recognized a variant -č of the 2FSG (section 5.1), since proscribed variants are not a functional part of Arabic grammar. Further issues militating against his recognizing a -č in the 2FSG are discussed in sections 5.2 and 5.3. Sec- tion 6 briefly reflects on the problems of interpreting Sibawaih. Thirdly, and much more briefly in section 7, it will be argued from evidence of the modern dialects *č reflexes of *k, including the 2FSG -ič, have such a wide distribution, including North Africa, the eastern Nile Delta region (Sharqiyya) and Khorasan—besides its core area of the eastern Arabian peninsula, the Gulf area and parts of the Levant, that linguistic reconstruction leads to the same conclusion as does a close reading of Sibawaih’s linguistics, namely that already by his era the change *k > *č was a part of Arabic.

1. Chapter 504

Chapter 504 (Kitaab II: 322–3) contains three substantive observations about affixal pronominal behavior on the verb. First, Sibawaih notes that the 2FSG suffix can be realized as -ši, -kiš or -kis, as well as -ki.

(1) 2FSG variants in Sibawaih1 a. -ši b. -kiš c. -kis d. -ki

Later sources add other variants, which I will not deal with here. Ibn Manḏִur reports 1 on the basis of ḥadith (Lisan VI: 197), for instance, that a -si variant exists as well which, apparently, applies to both 2M and 2F., ʾabuu-sa “your father”. Along the same lines, a reviewer draws attention to Suyuṭi’s treatment of the phenomenon in his Muzhir (chapter 11, p. 102), in which a -š variant is associated with 2FSG, a -s variant with 2MSG. While constraints of space prevent following up on these interesting strands here, it is my suspicion, subject of course to an examination of Suyuṭi, Ibn Manḏִur and others, that it is Sibawaih’s eyewitness account which should be given primary credibility and attention. chapter 504 and modern arabic dialectology 175

Secondly he notes that in a double-object verb, the 2F and 2M can be realized as long vowels, as in ʾuʿṭiy-kiy-haa “I give you.F it.F” or ʾuʿṭiy-kaa- haa “I give you.M-it.F. Finally, he observes that some Arabs lengthen the vowel of the 2FSG perfect suffix before an object pronoun, as in ḍarab- tiy-hi “you.F hit him”. Each of these observations invites independent examination in its own right. Given that the linguist who this book is honoring made significant contributions to what will be argued to be the successor dialects of the -kiš and -kis forms, I will concentrate on these two forms.2 I will look at this chapter from two perspectives. First I will summarize Sibawaih’s treatment, and secondly I will raise the question of its plausi- bility in the light of the situation in the Arabian peninsula and adjacent areas today. Sibawaih notes that there are Arabic tribes whom he identifies as “many Tamimi” and “some Asad” who instead of using the suffix -ki for the 2FSG object suffix, use -ši. His stock examples are:

(2) ʾinna-ši đaahib-at-un “Indeed you.F are going” maal-u-ši “your.F wealth”

As ever with Sibawaih, each of his observations is embedded in what is for him a causal explanation for the phenomenon he observes. Pure descriptivism was not his methodology. In this case, he observes that the -ši form serves as disambiguation with the 2MSG object suffix in pausal position, the -š form serving to “affirm and emphasize” (taḥqiyq wa tawkiyd) the difference. In pausal position, the M-F contrast is neutralized with the -k forms. The following paradigm illustrates this:

In the context of a footnote which addresses issues beyond the scope of this article, the same reviewer asks how Sibawaih’s phonetic variants were received by subsequent linguists, and whether the “jiym like a kaaf ” discussed below couldn’t also have referenced an already-existing [g] reflex of “jiym”, as in contemporary Cairene (Woidich and Zack, 2009). To these I would add the question why Sibawaih, but not, apparently, his teacher al-Khalil, took an interest in phonetic variation (Sara, 2013). From my perspective, none of these interesting questions have self-evident answers, so let them be left for future interpretation. 2 Cf. Bruce Ingham’s many contributions to the study of Arabian peninsular and Gulf Arabic, e.g. his masterly concise study of Najdi Arabic (1994). 176 jonathan owens

(3) waṣl (context) waqf (pause) 2MSG bayt-u-ka bayt-u-k# 2FSG bayt-u-ki bayt-u-k# 2FSG bayt-u-ši bayt-u-š#

He points out, analogically, that a contrast carried by a consonant is more perceptible than one shown by short vowels, adducing the pronominal contrasts FPL -na, vs. MPL -uw, or ‘antum vs. ‘antunna. Furthermore, Sibawaih explains the choice of -š as opposed to another consonant by phonological analogy: -ši is voiceless (mahmuwsa) like -k and an oral consonant is preferred to another theoretically possible choice, a pharyngeal (i.e. -ḥ) because -k is also an oral consonant. Sibawaih observes two further variants from unnamed speaker (naa- sun min al-ʿarab). These are -kis and -kiš. The final -s or -š serve to “perceptualize” (yubayyinuwna) the vowel -i in pausal position.

(4) (a) ʾaʿṭay-tu-kis# I gave you.F.SG (b) ʾaʿṭay-tu-kiš#

These occur in pause only. In context (waṣl) there is no need for them, as the final -i of -ki is maintained. Sibawaih explains the choice of -s in (4a) as that of choosing one of the added consonants (ḥuruwf zaa‌ʾida), consonants which can be added for morphemic value.

2. Internal Logic and Problems

In post-Sibawaihian linguistics these two variants came to be subsumed under the rubric of kashkasha and kaskasa (e.g. Lisan VI: 196). These however, were not terms Sibawaih used. Sibawaih’s explanations are interesting for reasons beyond the way in which they shed light on his causal-based descriptivism. In particular, the explanations are phrased in perceptual and in morphological terms. The variants serve contrasts that make meanings clear. The choice is a very rational one. -š disambiguates two k’s in pausal position. They (Arabs) move from /k/ to /š/ and not from /k/ to /ḥ/, because they remain in the oral tract. They choose -s in -kis because -s otherwise has morphemic value as an added consonant (e.g. in the form X verbal derivate -ist). chapter 504 and modern arabic dialectology 177

The explanations are not without problems. -ši ~ -š occurs in all position, pausal and context, and no explanation is given as to how -š is arrived at. Given the morphologically-based explanation of -kis, -s would be the more expected form. Sibawaih is silent about why -š should occur at all in the -kiš variant, as -š is not among the added consonants. These are issues I will not address further here.

3. Modern Dialects and Language History

This chapter is particularly interesting for students of Arabic, as it treats in very explicit form variation which appears to have a great deal in common with variants attested in the contemporary world. In particular, modern dialects have four basic variants of the 2FSG object suffix:

(5) Modern reflexes of the 2FSG suffix (a) -iš3 highland Yemen, eastern Arabian peninsula (b) -its najdi (Ingham 1994: 14) (c) -ič [itš] gulf, “gilit” Iraqi, Jordanian and Syrian desert, rural palestinian (d) -ik or -ki otherwise in the Arabic-speaking world

A number of scholars have discussed these variants in relation to the values which Sibawaih gives for the 2FSG morpheme (see (1)). Early works by Barth (1911) and Schaade (1911: 62) accept Sibawaih’s values at face value, though Barth and Schaade have different explanations for these variants (Watson 1992: 67). Later scholars have more variegated interpretations. Cantineau (1960: 65) interprets the kashkasha as indicating a -š pronunciation, and kaskasa a -s pronunciation of the 2FSG suffix. As noted, “kashkasha/kaskasa” were not the terms Sibawaih himself used, and Sibawaih nowhere indicates an -s as a reflex of the 2FSG. Furthermore, Sibawaih clearly indicated three variants beyond -ki, namely -ši, -kiš and -kis, not two as Cantineau interprets the situation. Watson (1992) deals with the -kiš variant, suggesting that it be reinterpreted as -kç, citing (North) Yemeni dialects which have this realization of the 2FSG morpheme (1992: 77, see n. 24 below).

3 -ič and -iš intermingle in Oman, with -ič dominant (Holes 1989). In the Gulf region, -iš is not found north of the Emirates, where it is in any case rare. 178 jonathan owens

Johnstone (1963: 225), without advancing specific arguments other than the striking coincidence of the correspondence, has a different interpretation, namely that (1b/c) in fact should be interpreted as (5b/c). Holes (1991: 670, n. 64) also appears to be favorable to this interpretation, even if his final summary reflects a different chronology of sound change. In this paper I would like to pursue the logic of this assumption, after interpreting Sibawaih’s treatment in detail, asking the question, if it is correct, why was it not so represented in Sibawaih? It should also be noted that although he does not discern a [-č] or [-ts] in the kaškaša and kaskasa variants, Cantineau (1960) does detect evidence elsewhere for [č] in Sibawaih’s phonetics/phonology, pace (6) below, as will be discussed in section 4.2 below. Before proceeding it is relevant to briefly summarize the detailed historical treatment of the development of (5b/c) in Arabic as developed by Holes (1991). Holes, correctly I believe, interprets the development of -ši as earlier than and independent from the development into -č and -ts. -š has reflexes throughout the Semitic languages, e.g. in Amharic, Harari and Gurage among Ethiopian Semitic (1997), among the modern South Ara- bian languages (1997) and, it can be noted, in contemporary Ma’lula Ara- maic ( Jastrow (1997: 337), as well as in Arabic dialects of eastern Arabian peninsula, from Yemen into the Emirates and Oman. It therefore can be inferred to belong to an old Semitic stratum, a retention from proto-West Semitic.4 -č and -ts on the other hand are Arabic-internal developments. Holes (following Johnstone 1963) points out that the change of *k > č/-ts extends beyond the 2FSG suffix to front vowel contexts generally where *k preceeds a front vowel, either /i/ or front /a/, e.g. čaan/tsaan “he was”. This general, conditioned change is paralleled by the change of *g5 > dž/dz, e.g. ğiddaam/dziddaam “in front”. Holes notes that of the two changes *k and *g, -č is the more widespread form: it occurs in Baghdadi/gilit and southern Iraqi, as well as in central Syrian, rural Palestinian and Jordanian dialects, whereas the [dž/dz] variants are largely limited to the eastern Arabian peninsula and Gulf region. He therefore proposes that the change of *k to > č preceded that of *g > dž (1991: 666). He furthermore suggests a linear development of *č > ts and *dž > dz in those dialects which have the latter forms, otherwise č/dž remaining as is. Overall one has:

4 See also Fischer (1956) who suggests borrowing as the source of -ši. The ultimate origin of this morphemic variant is not directly relevant to the current exposition. 5 Holes argues that *g in turn derives from *q, an issue outside the scope of this paper. chapter 504 and modern arabic dialectology 179

(6) Diachronic development of *k/g + front vowel: Holes 1991: 666

Front vowel environments: k > č > č > ts g > g > ğ ([dž]) > dz B1 > b2 > b3 > b4

B1 is the original situation. On the basis of present-day distributions and what we know of historical events (e.g. the spread of Arabic groups from central Saudi Arabia to the Gulf in the eighteenth century), Holes suggests a chronology for these changes. B4 is the contemporary situation in central Arabia today, B3 was in place at least by the 18th century, perhaps earlier, and is the situation in the Gulf dialects, B2 was in place by the 13th century and is the situation in Baghdadi Arabic and elsewhere. I will return to the issue of the chronology of these changes in section 7.

4. Sibawaih

At this point it is time to return to an interpretation of the variants as described by Sibawaih in (1), noting that disagreement with Sibawaih, a master linguist, is not to be undertaken without careful argumentation. Nonetheless, I think that Johnstone’s interpretation of (5b/c) as continuing (1b/c) is correct, i.e. that Sibawaih ‘meant’ -č and perhaps -ts. Before beginning, it can be noted that contemporary (5a) and (5d) are unproblematic from a comparative perspective. Each continues forms which were observed to be present during Sibawaih’s time (see Owens 2009: 251). I will discuss the reflexes in (5b, c) under five headings: coincidence of forms (4.1), issues of Sibawaih’s phonetics and phonology (4.2), social status of the variants (5.1), and issues related to morphology and orthography (5.2) and to pausal position (5.3).

4.1 Coincidence First of all, it is striking that Sibawaih happens to mention two variants of the 2FSG whose final segments, -kiš and kis, correspond exactly to the final segment of the two contemporary variants, [-tš] and [-ts]. Moreover, it is odd that if -kiš and -kis were indeed the variants, they have disappeared with no trace in contemporary Arabic, quite in contrast to -ki and -ši. Still, coincidence alone is hardly a sufficient justification. 180 jonathan owens

4.2 Sibawaih’s Phonology and Phonetics Sibawaih’s introductory chapter on al-idγaam “assimilation” (chapter 565, II: 452–5) is essential reading regarding his phonetics and phonology. For Sibawaih, phonetics was a functional phonology, hence his most important observations on phonetics and phonemic inventory come at the beginning of the chapter in which he begins to outline the rich pho- nemics and morphophonology of Arabic. Sibawaih defines 29 standard phonemes or ḥuruwf for Arabic. I term these sounds “basic phonemes” and conventionally represent them in phonological slashes “/ . . ./”. In addition, there are two sets of what can be called an extended variant list. As will become clear in the subsequent discussion, these two sets are crucial to an interpretation of the sounds/morphophonemes under discussion here, because they contain no less than four variants which belong to what can be called the jiym/shiyn complex. To date, there is no systematic integration of all of these sounds into an interpretation of Sibawaih’s phonetic and phonological thinking, though a number of linguists (see below) have cited different variants in one place or another. The first set consists of six further phonological variants, which are sanctioned for Quranic recitation and poetry. These can be listed without further comment. The variants for the forms immediately relevant to this paper are listed in brackets and will be justified in the following. I will conventionally represent these in phonetic brackets, “[. . .]”. Sanctioned variants:

(7) the medial hamza (bayna bayna) (8) imalized alif (see 5.1 below) (9) the light /n/ (10) the shiyn like a jiym, (= [ž]) (11) the ṣaad like a zaa‌ʾ (= [ẓ]) (12) the emphatic alif.

Most members of the set of sanctioned variants are mentioned elsewhere as well, either in the Kitaab (e.g. II: 279 ff. for imala, II: 168 ff. for medial hamza), and/or in other linguistic traditions (e.g. Ibn Mujahid 105 for the ṣaad like a zaa‌ʾ). Except for the shiyn like a jiym (see (24) below), all of these are readily interpretable as allophonic variants of one of the 29 core phonemes. A classic case relates to the complex conditioning of the imala, a vowel-harmonic palatalization of [aa] (Owens 2009: chapter 7), but others are equally susceptible to a conditioned allophonic reading, chapter 504 and modern arabic dialectology 181 for instance, the ṣaad like a zaa‌ʾ is a voiced ṣaad in the environment of another voiced consonant. Beyond these, Sibawaih also notes a second set of eight further pronunciations which he does not sanction for the Qur’an and poetry, which are not considered good, and which he proscribes as not frequent among those who use good Arabic. Proscribed variants:

(13) the jiym like a kaaf (= [č] or [c] or [ts]) (14) the jiym like a shiyn (= [č]) (15) the weak ḍaad (16) The ṣaad like a siyn (17) the ṭaa‌ʾ like a taa‌ʾ (18) the ḏaa! ‌ʾ like a θaa‌ʾ (19) the baa‌ʾ like a faa‌ʾ (= [p]) (20) the kaaf that is between the jiym and kaaf (= [?]).

In addition in Chapter 525 Sibawaih identifies a:

(21) sound (ḥarf ) that is between a kaaf and a jiym (= [g])

A number of different values have been suggested for various of these sounds. For (13) Cantineau, (1960: 58, following Bravmann) as well as Bakalla (1984), suggest the value [g]. For (14) Bakalla suggests [c] whereas Schaade (1911: 69, n. 33) speaks of a palatalized [z] (“palatisiertes z”), which he represents as [ź] (= [ž] ?). In addition, Cantineau, usually an expert interpreter of Arabic phonetics, introduces a “kaf comme jim” (1960: 65), citing his own example of ǧaafir for kaafir. Following Howell, he corrects this to čaafir.6 Leaving aside Cantineau’s interpretation, all of these representations of Sibawaih’s proscribed sounds have two attributes in common: (1) they are all, taken individually, plausible, and (2) all lack systematicity in that Sibawaih’s sounds are interpreted on an ad hoc case by case basis, not in terms of a common formula. It can be suggested here that the key to interpreting (10, 11, 13, 14, 19, 21) begins with a different chapter than that in which the sounds are

6 Cantineau’s “kaf comme jim” is also picked up by Holes (1991: 670, n. 64) and Watson (1992: 76, see n. 24 below). 182 jonathan owens described phonetically, namely chapter 525 (II: 375). This is the chapter in which he treats the adaptation of Persian sounds, including consonants, into Arabic. Two of the sounds are (19) and (21). Speaking of (21) Sibawaih writes, “They [Arabs, j.o.] convert the [Per- sian j.o.] sound that is between the kaaf and the jiym into a jiym . . .” al- jurbuz “imposter” < gurbuz, al-jawrab “sock” < gawrab.7 Sibawaih more briefly notes that the sound between the faaʾ‌ and baa‌ʾ either is changed to either [f ] or [b].

(22) Sibawaih’s designation firind/birind “decorative garment, decorated sword handle” < parand = [p] (Lane 1980, 6: 2389).8 baa‌ʾ like a faa‌ʾ

(23) sibawaih’s designation jurbuz < gurbuz = [g] sound between kaaf and jiym

These two cases are instructive for postulating a systematicity behind Sibawaih’s designation. Sibawaih the phonetician would have thought in his phonetic classificatory terms. As in contemporary articulatory phonetics, Sibawaih classified sounds according to their place of articulation (muxraj or maxraj, pl. maxaarij), whether they are voiced (majhuwr) or voiceless (mahmuws), and their manner, which roughly in Sibawaih is expressed by how the sound (ṣawt) flows through the vocal tract, e.g. whether it is stopped = šadiyd, fricative = rixwa, and so on. In addition he describes the secondary articulation of emphasis (ʾiṭbaaq) which is irrelevant for current purposes. It can be assumed that in describing the extended variants, Sibawaih was thinking in these phonetic categories, even if he did not describe the extended sounds individually. The question is, what parameters he used to operationalize them. A first place to start looking for general phonetic parameters is in the two parts of the description itself. Sibawaih uses two formulations, either “sound X ka- sound Y”, “sound X like sound Y”, or “a sound between sound X and sound Y. There is either a likeness or a betweenness.

7 Sibawaih (II: 375.21) observes that alternatively the in-between kaaf could be realized as [q]. I would like to thank Corey Miller of the University of Maryland, CASL (p.c’s. April 2011) for discussion and interpretation of these correspondences. 8 Ibn Manḏur! gives both firind and birind, as loanwords (from *parand), with the meaning of “a decorative sword” (3: 89, 334), i.e. either /f/ or /b/ as reflex of Persian *p. chapter 504 and modern arabic dialectology 183

Previous analyses, as noted already, have made suggestions for individual sounds, e.g. (13), a jiym like a kaaf is a [g]. What they haven’t attempted is to break X and Y into phonetic categories, generalizable to a common model. Clearly the extended sounds are a single sound. A “jiym like a kaaf ”, whatever is meant, is certainly a single sound. Single sounds in Sibawaih’s phonetic theory can only consist of the discrete place, manner and voicing parameters which he defined. It can be suggested that Sibawaih used the “like” relation and the “between” relation to define these composite sounds, and if this is the case, he would have needed a system to make compound sounds regularly. The two relatively certain examples allow a phonetic model to be extracted, which describes such a system. Taking (19) for exemplification, repeated here,

(24) The baa‌ʾ like a faa‌ʾ (= [p]) knowing that the outcome is a voiced velar plosive, one need only look in the phonetic attributes of baa‌ʾ and faa‌ʾ to find which phonetic parameters Sibawaih took from each sound. These are marked in boldface in the following: baa‌ʾ= voiced (majhuwr), stop (šadiyd), bilabial (al-šafataan) faa‌ʾ = voiceless (mahmuws), fricative (rixwa), labio-dental

The Persian [p] takes the following attributes: [p] = voiceless (mahmuws), stop (šadiyd), bilabial (al-šafataan)

What Sibawaih has done is to take the voicing parameter of the second sound, Y, and the manner and place parameter from the first, X. The boldfaced attributes are taken from each sound and reassembled in the extended phoneme. A general formula can be postulated:

(25) X = place/manner; ka/bayna Y = voicing

This description serves as an hypothesis; Sibawaih used the X ka/bayna Y as a general model, whereby X = manner and place, Y = voicing. Sibawaih’s extended sounds are, in most cases, not as it were sounds at all, but rather instructions on how to combine the phonetic features of each constituent sound to interpret a composite extended sound. 184 jonathan owens

The model can be tested against (10, 11, 13, 14, 21).

(26) sibawaih’s designation composite features phonetic ḥarf between kaaf and place/manner of interpretation jiym /k/+ voicing of /j/ [g]

(27) sibawaih’s designation composite features phonetic ṣaad like a zaa‌ʾ alveolar/fricative interpretation + vd [ẓ]

(28) sibawaih’s designation composite features phonetic shiyn like a jiym alveopalatal/ interpretation fricative + vd [ž]

(29) sibawaih’s designation composite features phonetic jiym like kaaf place/manner of interpretation /j/ + voicing of /k/ [č], [c] or [ts]

(30) sibawaih’s designation composite features phonetic jiym like shiyn place/manner of interpretation /j/, voicing of /š/ [č]

In all cases the formula gives a plausible result. Regarding (26) on the basis of the loanword chapter cited above, the phonetic value, based on the Middle Persian original, is [g], i.e. the voiced counterpart of [k] (Saleman 1930: 13, Boyce 1975: 169). It is therefore unlikely that the “betweenness” resides in physical distance (place of articulation) since in Persian, there is no physical distance between [k] and [g]. Rather, “betweenness” should be interpreted in classificatory phonetic terms. [g] has the place and manner of articulation of a [k], but the voicing of a jiym, i.e. lies between two articulatorily-defined coordinates. All of the remaining sounds as interpreted in (26–30) are attested either in variants of Old Arabic, and/or in the modern dialects. (27), [ẓ], is found inter alia in the Qiraa‌ʾ aat, (Ibn Mujahid 106–7), ṣiraaṭ “road, path”, the reading of Ḥamza, as well as one interpretation of Abu ʿAmr ibn ʾAʿlaa’s pronunciation being a sound “between a zaa‌ʾ and a ṣaad”, i.e. ẓiraaṭ.10

9 Post-vocalic [g] could also be realized as [γ] in Middle Persian. Sibawaih does not discuss this variant, and his examples are all word-initial occurrences. I would like to thank Fabrizio Pennacchietti for the Middle Persian references. 10 One sees an interesting link between Sibawaih’s sanctioned variants, e.g. the ʾimaala and the “the ṣaad like a zaa‌ʾ”, and the later ‘standardized’ Qiraa‌ʾ aat. chapter 504 and modern arabic dialectology 185

(28) is the widespread pronunciation of jiym found today in most of North Africa and in the Levant. (29) and (30) are “palatalalized k’s”, which as seen in (5) are widespread inter alia in the Arabian peninsula. There is an interpretive problem here, in that both (29) and (30), in the current formula, allow a [č] reading. Such a result runs against an expected precision in Sibawaih’s description. That the jiym is crucially implicated in the current issue is indicated on a prima facie basis by the basic observation that it is mentioned no less than five times in the description of the extended variants, i.e. in over a third of the phonetic descriptions. Here a closer look at basic jiym itself is necessary to elucidate the problem. Uncontroversially, the basic jiym is a stop (šadiyd) and voiced (majhuwr) sound. As is well known, in the case of jiym Sibawaih did not specify a contrast between an affricated and plain stop. It is simply “šadiyd”. As far as place of articulation goes (muxraj), it is placed after the kaaf (moving back to front), “in the middle of the tongue and . . . middle of the hard palate (al-ḥanak al-ʾaʿlaa)” (Kitaab II: 453) in a class consisting of three phonemes, yaa‌ʾ, shiyn and jiym. Further to the front of these three sounds comes [ḷ], an emphatic lateral fricative. A literal reading of this place of articulation would give the phonetic values to these three sounds of [y], [ç] (vl. palatal fricative) and [ j] (vd. palatal stop), and in fact the latter two values have been suggested by various scholars.11 However, this literal interpretation runs afoul both of phonetic and Sibawaih-specific considerations.

11 For jiym in Sibawaih, Cantineau would seem to recognize a [ j], “occlusive palatale- dorsale” (1960: 57), though his formulation is not entirely clear (Pierre Larcher p.c. May 2011). For shiyn Watson 1992: 74 suggests [ç] or [ɬ]. Daniels (2010) has a good summary of the debate over the last 50 years. Determining the phonetic value of shiyn is an issue in and of itself. Arguments have been made for its voiceless lateral status, [ɬ] (Rabin 1951: 33, Cantineau 1960: 62, Beeston 1962). Beeston (1984: 9) takes Sibawaih’s al-hanak al-ʾaʿlaa to be limited to the hard palate, and hence would endorse the [y], [ç], [ j] interpretation of the sounds. While Sibawaih’s description of ḍaad as a voiced emphatic lateral is fairly unambiguous, that of shiyn allows a lateral interpretation only inferentially (e.g. it is pronounced over an extended area of the mouth, which however, is compatible with the properties of alveopalatal [š] as well, see Sibawaih II: 467). The major problem with interpreting the sound as a lateral is that Sibawaih, an expert phonetician, does not describe it as a lateral, and does not pair it with the explicit lateral [ɬ̣]. Moreover, the lateral interpretation is difficult to relate to the extended sanctioned and non-sanctioned variants of shiyn (e.g. jiym like a shiyn). 186 jonathan owens

Beginning with general phonetics, phonetically, assuming that /j/ is, or is only [ j], the palatal region has to accommodate not one, but three different [ j] sounds (the basic one plus (13, 14)), as well as serve as a partial analogy for two other’s, (10, 20) above. However, the palatal region is typologically a somewhat underused region, probably for acoustic and perceptual reasons. It is implausible that such a logjam of sounds would cluster in the palatal region, particularly if this interpretation entails leaving the alveolar and alveopalatal region to the front empty of š-, č- and dž-like sounds. This general phonetic point can be underscored with a brief look at statistics readily available in the UPSID, the UCLA Phonological Segment Inventory Database, as available at the University of Frankfurt. This contains the segmental phonetic inventories of 450 languages. Searches can be defined by standard phonetic parameters, place, manner, voicing, various secondary articulations, etc. For the purposes of this paper two places of articulation were con- trasted, the palatal vs. the alveopalatal. The expectation is that the alveopalatal region will show a greater degree of diversity than the palatal. This is measured by a simple statistic. Language tokens were classified as either having one segment at the palatal or alveopalatal position, or more than one (e.g. [š] and [dž], or only [š]). Segments with secondary articulations (e.g. labialized, laryngealized, nasalized, pre-nasalized), and special pho- nation types (breathiness, aspiration) were excluded from the count. The 2 × 2 Table 1 shows that there is a high degree of difference between the two places of articulation, with the palatal position having a far higher number of languages with only a single segment (usually [y]) than the alveopalatal.

Table 1. Palatal vs. alveopalatal, single qqqqvs. more than one segment, UPSID sample palatal alveopalatal single segment 237 65 > 1 segment 167 223 p = .000, df = 1, chi sq = 89

In a very basic way this confirms the observation that differentiation in the palatal region is considerably restricted. chapter 504 and modern arabic dialectology 187

Moreover, in the 450 language sample, only 105 have three or more palatal segments, and the suggested combination of Arabic palatal values, [ç, y, j] (see above) occurs in only two languages in the entire sample.12 No language has as palatal value only [ç, y, j] ], the values of a “literal” reading of Sibawaih’s phonetic description.

Looking further at the UPSID sample, no languages or ancestors of languages with which Arabic can be assumed to have been in close proximity in the late second/eighth century, Sibawaih’s era, have more than two palatal sounds and most have only [y]. On the other hand, alveopalatal sounds are common: Amharic: [š, ž, tš, dž, tš’] Tigre: [š, ž, tš, dž, tš’] Modern Persian: [š, ž, tš, dž] Kurdish: [š, ž, tš, dž] Neo-Aramaic (Iranian Azerbaijan): [š, ž, tš, dž] Soqotri: [š, ž, š’] Expanding the survey slightly, Neo-eastern Aramaic in general has [š, ž, tš, dž], while Western Neo-Aramaic has [š, tš] + either [dž] or [ž] on a dialectal basis ( Jastrow 1997: 334, 348). Similarly Middle Persian has [š, tš, dž], with allophonic alternation (post-vocalic) of [dž ~ ž] (Boyce 1975: 16). In the UPSID data base, of the languages ancestrally linked to the Arabic of the eighth century, only Modern Greek lacks alveopalatals (but also palatals). Both from a typological perspective and on the basis of an areal survey, it would therefore be unusual for Arabic to have three distinctive sounds at the palatal region in the combination which has been suggested. On the other hand, two alveopalatal sounds (e.g. [š], [dž] ~ [ž]) is not unusual, and alveopalatal sounds with values which can be interpreted from Sibawaih’s own description of Classical Arabic are common in languages (or their ancestors) Arabic is either closely related to genetically and/or in contact with. In Sibawaih-specific terms, it is noteworthy that after the hard palate (and as ever following Sibawaih’s progression of place, moving from the

12 Komi, a Finno-Ugric language with 9 palatal segments in all, and Kwakiutl (North American Pacific coast) with 4. Tera (West Chadic) with 7 palatal segments has [y], [ç] and an implosive [>j]. Note that the palatal sound [y] is the most common palatal sound overall in the UPSID sample, with over 80% of all languages having it, so its presence in general is the rule rather than the exception. 188 jonathan owens back towards the front of the mouth), Sibawaih hardly uses parts of the key passive articulator, the upper part of the mouth, to define further sounds. Instead, from the ḍaad onwards, the basic parameter defining the upper articulator is the upper teeth. For instance, the sound which comes “after” the jiym, the ḍaad, is described as being pronounced with the edge (ḥaafa, “blade, front”?) of the tongue in the area adjacent (maa yaliyhi) to the molars (ʾaḍraas). There is no mention of constriction against the upper part of the mouth. On this point Sibawaih’s description lacks precision, as in articulatory terms the varying degrees of closure formed by the active articulator, the tongue, are generally defined against the upper mouth, not the upper teeth.13 These two considerations suggest that the area of the al-ḥanak al-ʾaʿlaa covered a much wider articulatory range than simply the hard palate, as is usually assumed by interpreters of Sibawaih (e.g. Cantineau 1960, Beeston 1962: 224, Watson 2002: 269). That is, al-ḥanak al ʾaʿlaa was conceived by Sibawaih as extending from after the velar region (occupied by [k]) at least all the way to the alveopalatal region, if not beyond (see n. 14). This interpretation is compatible with the categorization of /y/, /š/ and /j/ as constituting a class. This interpretation is supported by Sibawaih’s designation of the laam as also being in the al-ḥanak al-ʾaʿlaa area, very unlikely a lateral palatal [λ], a value which, to my knowledge, no one has interpreted for it.14 Thus, against a number of previous interpretations (e.g. Schaade 1911: 19, Cantineau 1960: 57), it is plausible to assign more than one place articulatory interpretation to the basic jiym. It could have been palatal (in the sense of universal articulatory phonetics), but could well have been alveopalatal as well, or post-palatal. All fit within the extended interpretation of al-ḥanak al-ʾaʿlaa. Indeed, it could have had more than one value.

13 Alternatively, if the al-ḥanak al-ʾaʿlaa describes the top of the mouth from the hard palate all the way to the alveolar ridge, Sibawaih would have needed to differentiate the lingual sounds in another fashion, hence locating them relative to the teeth. 14 Much later in the thirteenth century, Sakkaki (p. 13) draws a representation of the mouth and where sounds are produced in it, in which the /l/ is placed much to the front of the /y, š, j/ class. His description (p. 12) is taken nearly verbatim from Sibawaih, so that one would conclude that the al-ḥanak al-ʾaʿlaa accommodates an area all the way to where the stricture for the /l/ is made. The inference that the passive articulator of the jiym might have extended over a large area of the palate and alveopalatal region is also supported indirectly by Sibawaih’s description of the upper articulatory region of shiyn as extending all the way to where ṭ is pronounced (II: 462, 467, 473, see Schaade 1911: 74 n. 4). As noted, shiyn is of the same place category as the jiym. chapter 504 and modern arabic dialectology 189

Sibawaih classifies the jiym as a stop (shadiyd), but is not more specific than this, for instance giving no intimation as to whether it should be interpreted as a simple stop ([ j]),15 or an affricate ([dž]). In fact, there is already strong evidence for jiym variation in Sibawaih’s description. Whatever the basic phonetic value of jiym was, (10) says that there was also a sanctioned variant that was [ž] (see (28)). If the basic jiym itself had the variants [dž], [j], two values of jiym widely attested among the dialects today16 would already have been in place in Sibawaih’s time and classified by Sibawaih as permissible pronunciations. Assuming this perspective in turn would potentially elucidate the variants (29) and (30) above. Both are correct, but reflect different dialectal variants.17 Assuming that Sibawaih would not have detected two [č] sounds, in (29) the most likely interpretation of the sound is probably [c], as this is the variant closest to /k/. In this case, both (29) and (30) use the “ka l-Y” to define a voiceless value. (29) additionally nuances a more backed variant, via the comparison to “kaaf ” rather than “shiyn”. This would be the voiceless palatal stop corresponding to the voiced variant [ j]. Still, it cannot be ruled out that (29) represents the second variant attested today, namely [ts]. To conclude this reading of Sibawaih, it is argued that among Sibawaih’s proscribed sounds (13–21) was a voiceless alveopalatal and/or palatal stop. Allowing that his description is vague in respect to the articulatory extent of the ‘palatal’ sounds, it is not implausible to assume that already in Sibawaih’s day the dialectal differentiation existed which is found today in the jiym. The basic jiym sound could have been /dž/ or /j/, it had a sanctioned variant [ž] (28), while the proscribed variant of the first would have been [č]. This model, moreover, resolves the ostensible incompatibility of (10) and (14), which appear to refer to a single value. In the formulation

15 That the palatal value would have been [ j], and not [g] (as e.g. in Cairene today) is strongly suggested by Sibawaih’s chapter 525 in which he explicitly notes that the Per- sian “kaaf between kaaf and jiym” is realized as an Arabic jiym, because the Persian “kaaf between kaaf and jiym” is not among the sounds of the Bedouins, i.e. they had to shift the Persian [g] to something else, probably [ j]. 16 [ j] in various regions of Sudanic Arabic, while [dž] is generally the most widespread of the contemporary jiym variants. 17 For instance, if jiym had the values [dž], and [ j], (28) and (29) would have had the respective voiceless values [č] and [c]. Inversely, if this is correct, the proscribed variants of jiym argue for variable sources of the basic jiym. 190 jonathan owens developed here, the relation is not symmetrical, “X like Y” does not imply “Y like X”, so there is no contradiction in Sibawaih’s formulation of the variants. Before returning to the question of kaškaša/kaskasa, a fundamental point needs to be dealt with, namely the extent to which Sibawaih’s phonetic description are tied to specific lexica, or are independent phonetic descriptions applicable to any word. This is a question which is pertinent in particular to the extended variants. In fact, both perspectives are applicable, depending on what variant is at issue. The imala ([ʾimaala]), for instance, is at one and the same time an allophonic variant, and a variant which is always tied to particular words, namely those with an “alif ” in the appropriate position for undergoing imala. A slightly different case pertains to the de-emphasized variants (17– 19). Whereas the imala represents a conditioned split, the de-emphasized variants represent a merger. As Sibawaih represents them, however, these maintain their lexical integrity. Thus, whereas phonologically and phonetically, a “ṣaad like a siyn” is simply an [s], Sibawaih’s description continues to keep them lexically apart. Presumably [seef] in the sense of “summer” (as e.g. in Tlemcen, Dekkak 1979: 105), would be a “ṣiyn like a siyn”, whereas [sif] or [seef] in the sense of “sword” would simply be a “siyn”.18 In the case of (17–19), Sibawaih’s designations are etymo-phonetic. A different case, on the other hand, is represented by (21). Given the interpretation in this paper, by definition, the “sound between the kaaf and jiym” is a purely phonetic designation, at least as far as the only exemplification of the phenomenon in Sibawaih goes (chapter 525), since this is used for a non-Arabic sound. There is no Arabic etymological source to relate it to. A similar interpretation applies to (19/26). In this case, Sibawaih (II: 376) notes that Persian /p/ (baa‌ʾ like a faaʾ)‌ is realized in loanwords as /f/. A key question in this context is what perspective is intended in (13/29, 14/30). Clearly the analysis developed here requires the purely phonetic interpretation. It would be highly unusual, for instance, to interpret (13/22), as a [k] etymologically related to [dž], e.g. *kabal for jabal “mountain”. Indeed, this point is perhaps what led Cantineau (1960: 65) to introduce the spurious “kaaf like a jiym”. A “jiym like a kaaf ” he would

18 As for the taa‌ʾ like a ṭaa‌ʾ, one could, with Nassir (1993: 20), envisage a voiceless emphatic ṭaa‌ʾ, since this in Sibawaih is voiced (majhuwr). This would follow the “like a = voicing” parameter. However, this interpretation makes little or no sense for the other two emphatic sounds. The only consistent reading is for lack of emphasis. chapter 504 and modern arabic dialectology 191 appear to suggest, is a rather absurd correspondence on etymological grounds, Cantineau adducing the nonsensical example *[džaafir] for [kaafir] (Cantineau’s, not Sibawaih’s example). Cantineau instead substi- tuted the, for him, more reasonable “kaaf like a jiym” with a value [č]. In fact, (26–30) all require a purely phonetic interpretation. In any case, the crucial step in the current interpretation is the recognition that Sibawaih thought both in etymological terms, and in purely phonological ones. The phonological perspective, in turn, allows Sibawaih’s extended variants to be interpreted in terms of phonological features, in particular the segment of his description “ka-l-Y” being shorthand for the voicing feature. From this perspective, the relevant (13, 14, 19, 21) are based on phonological parameters only. Before leaving this section commentary is necessary on (20), the kaaf that is between the jiym and kaaf. This is one sound which in the model in (25) would simply reproduce sounds already defined. Given the two potential original pronunciations of jiym, one can propose either of the following.

(31) kaaf = alveopalatal/palatal, stop, voiceless = [č],[c]

Alternatively, there is yet another palatal sound hidden here (e.g. [ç] or [ts]), but as the discussion above on the density of palatal sounds points out, this is unlikely. One could also think of the value [ts]. However, this formulation strictly speaking lies outside the model developed in (25), since the ‘kaaf ’ is repeated twice, once as the name of the sound, and once as a point of orientation, in this case interpreted as a voicing parameter. One possibility is that (20) is in fact the same as (21). Sibawaih was inconsistent in his use of bayna “between”, and in chapter 525 the kaaf was placed first, in chapter 565 the jiym. However, given that there are only two sounds with the ‘bayna’ relation, (20) and (21), it may be that this question will remain forever open.

5. Why not kačkača?

It is now time to turn to the original question, the status of kaškaša and kaskasa. In this section I assume the correctness of the argument that Sibawaih included at least [č] among the eight proscribed variants, and possibly [ts] as well. Nothing of principle stands on the second assumption, 192 jonathan owens however. If this is correct, however, a crucial question is why this wasn’t so formulated in chapter 504, why isn’t the 2FSG object variant designated as the “the jiym like a shiyn”.

5.1 Social Status It can be suggested that the major reason has simply to do with the fact that [č] was among Sibawaih’s proscribed variants. Given this, Sibawaih would have had no interest in investigating its functionality in the language.19 Note that being a variant outside the basic 29 sounds does not automatically disqualify it from Sibawaih’s detailed attention. In fact, the imala, which is a highly legitimate variant of the non-imala alif and included among the six sanctioned variants, is the subject of the most detailed phonological observations in the entire Kitaab.20 In contrast to [č], however, it is a sanctioned variant. The allomorphemic -č, on the one hand, the kashkasha and kaskasa variants, would have posed a problem. They must have been common enough in speech that Sibawaih took note of them (see 5.3 below). On the other hand, he could not have taken note of and expounded upon proscribed variants. Sibawaih’s solution, in this case, is to see (or hear) not [č], but rather [kiš], hence giving recognition to the variant, while keeping within the terms of both of his phonological precepts, and avoiding the domain of proscribed sounds. One indirect confirmation of this ‘avoidance’ interpretation can be found in what for Sibawaih is the sanctioned imala variant of long [aa]. Referring to today’s distribution of imala, all of them are purely [k] dialects. None of them underwent the split discussed in (32) below. What this suggests is that the language milieu Sibawaih worked in had as one dominant (leaving this term undefined) group of speakers who would not

19 In describing Persian loanwords, the proscribed “in-between kaaf ” describes a Per- sian, not an Arabic sound, and similarly the ‘baa‌ʾ like a faa‌ʾ’. 20 Indeed, it is an interesting issue in the history of Arabic sociolinguistics to ascertain why the imala pronunciation of alif didn’t become standardized, given its centrality in Sibawaih, the original arbiter of Arabic grammar. In any case, the subsequent history of imala saw it spread out and/or survive in four geographical loci: in a northerly and easterly direction in northern Mesopotamia, including southern Turkey, and northern Syria, among the so-called qultu dialects as well as in Lebanon. Proceeding further west, it became established in eastern Libya and Maltese, it is well attested in Andalusia, and it has been recorded in a small pocket of Tiyaaha speakers (Shawarbah 2007) in the northern Negev. Today all of these regions are, broadly speaking, relic areas, and indeed, Andalusian Arabic died out some four centuries ago. chapter 504 and modern arabic dialectology 193 have had affrication and hence would not have been associated with the proscribed [č]. Following through on this reasoning, for Sibawaih it is not enough for a sound simply to be attested that it be taken up in his phonemic inventory of legitimate sounds. It must be attested among the right group of people. The imalized alif was used by the right group, while the “devoiced jiym” was not. Related to the last point, two speculations regarding why the proscribed variants were proscribed can be made. It is noteworthy that of the eight proscribed variants, six are either obviously L2 variants, or explicitly other language sounds. (16–19) are all deemphasized variants, which can plausi- bly be attributed to L2 speakers (see. e.g Jaahiḏ,! I: 40–2). (19) and (21) (and perhaps (20)) are explicitly Persian sounds, as Sibawaih describes in chapter 525. This leaves only the two sounds interpreted in this paper as [č] and probably, [c] or [ts], as in (13, 14). Generalizing across the entire class, it could be concluded that Sibawaih saw in all of the proscribed sounds something foreign or non-native. That is, as a first explanation, one basis of proscription could have been that Sibawaih judged the sounds according to the groups he heard uttering them. For whatever reason, speakers of [č] were, in his mind, something less than fully-fledged speakers of Arabic, whereas those who used imala were. Turning to a second alternative, referring only to (15) and (20), derived from Persian [g] and [p] respectively, it appears that Sibawaih proscribed clearly Persian variants from acceptable Arabic. [č], identified here as the ‘jiym like a shiyn’, was another Middle Persian sound.21 Sibawaih could thus have identified the [č] of the 2FSG -či with a Persian sound. However, to avoid having to allow ‘Persian’ sounds within his class of sanctioned variants, he interpreted -kiš/-kis instead, as argued above.

5.2 Phonology and Orthography Besides the basic social factor, other potentially problematic factors relating to the recognition of a 2FSG -či suffix can be noted in this and the following section. As far as phonology goes, three potential problems are to be noted. First, given the morphological context in which Sibawaih discusses these

21 [č], with the optional variant [z] post-vocalically (Boyce 1975: 16). Note that the inclu- sion of the “jiym like a shiyn” with the sound explicitly identified as Persian constitutes a further argument that it is indeed a [č], i.e. another of the Persian sounds. 194 jonathan owens morphemes, a purely morphophonemic variant which would be necessary to represent the variant could not be countenanced. Sibawaih gives no phonological conditions for the 2FSG variants, even if he does suggest certain communicatively-based constraints as to why speakers chose the forms they did on the basis of pausal position. It appears that Sibawaih conceptualizes speakers as picking their morphological variants from a pre-defined set of phonemes. This allows k + š or k + s, but not -ts or tš (= [č]), since these do not exist as members of a sanctioned set of phonemes, while choosing -t as a possible representation of the variants in this context is unlikely (t + š or t + s), since -t, in contrast to -k, is not appropriate as a morphemic value in this context. Alternatively, establishing a special morphophoneme for this context alone would be unprec- edented in Sibawaih. Secondly, a broader approach to the variants would have involved dealing with allophonic conditioning. As noted above (see discussion around (5, 6)), the -č variant is phonologically conditioned, so one would need to ascertain the nature of the conditioned allophonic split. The basic rule is as follows.

(32) k > ts/č before a front vowel otherwise, k kabiir or kibiir > čibiir/tsibiir “big”

There is, to be sure, one instance where Sibawaih does describe a large- scale, regularly conditioned allophonic split, and that is the imala referred to above. In the word-internal imala which Sibawaih gives the greatest attention to, a long [aa] becomes [ia] in the context of an [i]. There are various conditions on this shift, but generally what Sibawaih describes is:

(33) Imala in Sibawaih aa > ia / in context of [i] otherwise [aa] (Kitaab II: 179)

Formally this is identical to the conditioned “split” (allophony) of [k]. The question can be posed, if Sibawaih was aware of conditioned allophony, why wouldn’t he have heard -ts, -č in the present case? This leads to the third point. chapter 504 and modern arabic dialectology 195

From a phonological and orthographic perspective the consonant split has a different status from the vocalic imala. Sibawaih was working in an era when the final orthographic inventory was still in the making. In the Kitaab are found a number of innovative orthographic signs, for instance those developed to describe pausal phenomena (II: 307–8). The imala itself was indicated by a special dagger alif written beneath the consonant (i.e. in the position of kasra) before the alif. What the orthographic reforms concentrated on were vowels and suprasegmental and contextual phenomena, not consonantal values. It is striking that Sibawaih himself, although he gave rather detailed information about consonantal variation both via assimilation and unconditioned variation, did not propose distinctive orthographic signs for them. Rather, he used the composite formulations described in 4.2 above. It would appear that in Sibawaih’s day there was a barrier to expanding the consonantal orthography. Thus, there was a consensus built around the 29 consonantal signs. Indeed, we see perhaps in Sibawaih’s treatment of the -kis and -kiš variants this predilection to think segmentally, with the already established -s and -š appended at the end of the morpheme. As Johnstone (1963) suggests, a comprehensive treatment of -ts, -č, dz/dž could have implied identifying new consonantal values, new phonemes. While this did eventually چ occur, it was not until after Sibawaih’s time that, for instance, Persian was introduced. Phonologically the allophonic k > k/č split is of a type whose conditioning Sibawaih did not deal with, namely a vowel causing a shift in consonantal value.22 The values which Sibawaih would have had to have dealt with are problematic from the perspective of Arabic phonology. All of the component parts of the affricates exist independently in Arabic (breaking down the č into its component parts, t + š, for ease of reference):

(34) ts = t + s tš = t + š dz = d + z dž = d + ž

22 Consonants influencing vowels, on the other hand, are attested in the imala (e.g. emphatics prevent imala) and the influence of gutturals on the low vowel fatḥa. 196 jonathan owens

However, none of these could be recognized as sequences of two consonants, e.g.

(35) bayt-u-tši = baytu-t-ši since this would violate basic syllable structure rules. (35), for instance, in pause gives, using a hyphen to separate phonemes, the following:

(36) bayt-u-t-š#

This, however, yields a disallowed CC# sequence. Word-initially the change could be not be represented, since the words would begin with two consonants.

(37) *d-ziddaam *t-šibiir etc.

While the phonological context of (37) would require an alif al-waṣl, the phonetics does not support such. Clearly then, the affrication change does require the recognition of new consonantal phonemes, which as seen above, was not the direction which orthographic reform was taking. Over and above the issue of prestige, here would be a case where Sibawaih’s theoretical conceptualization of the issue would have led him away from perceiving forms which his model could not account for.

5.3 Why the Pausal 2FSG? It can be asked why, if the supposed -č variant was general in the Arabic of Sibawaih’s day, he only singled out variants in pausal position, and only those in the 2FSG. These are two separate questions. Beginning with the second factor, it is clear that Sibawaih would have been drawn to the 2FSG in general by the striking variant -ši (1a). Having considered this form in detail, he would have been sensitized to other allomorphs of the 2FSG. Beyond this structural, paradigmatic factor, it can be assumed that the 2FSG is a form of extremely high frequency in speech. Of all of the “k” and “k-like” sounds, chapter 504 and modern arabic dialectology 197 the “k” of the 2SG is probably its most frequent realization. To lend at least prima facie support to this supposition, I counted in a spoken Hijazi- Arabic text of about 6,000 words, a conversation between two Saudi women (one of the textual bases of Owens et al. 2009) all tokens of word- final /k/, including -ik, the 2FSG form in this dialect (-ki after a vowel). As can be seen, it is not any /k/ which constitutes the vast majority of word- final /k/’s in this sample, but rather the /k/ of the 2FSG -ik.

(38) -ik: 91 = 63% Other -k: 5423 = 37% Total: 145

Conversation is the most typical ‘genre’ of language, so, even without claiming a scientific representativeness for this example, the statistics do give unequivocal support for the inference that Sibawaih’s interest in the 2FSG would have been reinforced by its high frequency in actual speech. Regarding Sibawaih’s concentration on the pausal forms, two alternatives can be considered. On the one hand, it could be that whatever variation was observed, even -č was indeed restricted to this morpheme. This would mean that the change from *k > č began in this morpheme.24 There is no way, of course, to confirm this, and this conclusion goes against the observations in 4.2 and 5.1 above, which argue that -č was a general variant, but a proscribed one. Alternatively, it can be observed that it is striking that Sibawaih in general was meticulously careful in documenting pausal phenomena (waqf ) as opposed to context (waṣl) forms. A classic example of this, for instance, pertains to the realization of final vowels in pausal position (see II: 307–8). While this could simply be because there is more variation in

23 23 of the non-2FSG k-final words were in one word token hinaak “there”. 24 As indeed Watson (1992: 77) argues in an analogous treatment. As already noted, she makes the interesting suggestion that kaškaša was -kç, as in certain North Yemeni dialects today. In this view, morphemic -kç subsequently spread to other phonological contexts, and to other geographical areas, where it eventually became the [č] variant as summarized in (5) above. As it stands this suggestion requires a great deal more justification. Leaving aside the observation that [kç] does not automatically entail or lead to [č], it is problematic that [-kç] is attested today only in this morphemic context, and that there are no dialects where a conditioned *k > kç is attested. This suggestion therefore entails, -kç > *kç > č, (morphophonemic [-kç], phonologically conditioned [kç], phonologically conditioned [č]) though the medial step is unattested both in the literature and among today’s dialects. It is simply a reconstructed medial step based on the assumption that conditioned [č] derives from -kç. 198 jonathan owens pausal position, another aspect of the observation is that pausal position is also more susceptible to physical observation, particularly in the pre-electronic recorder era. Picking up allophonic variation in connected speech is more difficult.25 Furthermore, if indeed Sibawaih’s theoretical apparatus would have stopped him from picking up consonantal allomorphy, as suggested in 5.1, one distinguishing aspect of the 2FSG in all varieties where it is -č or -ts, is that it has this form, regardless of following vowel. That is, whereas elsewhere the allophonic split in (32) is operative,26 morphemic -tš/ts is invariable, even after back vowels:

(39) abuu-č/abuu-ts ( Johnstone 1963: 223) “your.F father”

Thus, even if Sibawaih missed the general allophonic variation, he wouldn’t necessarily have missed the morphophonemic variants of the 2FSG.

In short, the prominence of the 2FSG because of its frequency in speech, as well as the ability to observe pre-pausal forms more carefully than those in connected speech account for Sibawaih’s singling out the 2FSG in pausal position.

6. Sibawaih’s Linguistic Thinking

Before moving to a reinterpretation of the history of the affricates, it can be noted that if the interpretation given here is correct, it further underlines the variegated theoretical complexity of Sibawaih’s thinking. Sibawaih has been described as a descriptivist, rather than a prescriptivist (Carter 1973). This is certainly correct if one should oppose Sibawaih’s linguistic practice to that of later grammarians, who, unlike Sibawaih, were working with a closed set of linguistic data. Sibawaih’s descriptivism, however, was not that of a living individual who blindly recorded all speech forms which he observed, a walking tape recorder as it were. Instead, all of his observations are filtered through and legitimized by an underlying theoretical justification. This involves in the first instance linguistic theory internal

25 Consider, for instance, the classic sociolinguistic research instruments of recording forms in wordlist format, i.e. each word bounded by pause, pausal forms. 26 Johnstone (1963: 211) points out that in lexically isolated cases, the affricated form can generalize, as in diič, dyuuč “cock, cocks” in Kuwaiti Arabic. chapter 504 and modern arabic dialectology 199 reasoning, but it can also involve, as suggested here, social evaluation based on groups of users. Note that from this perspective, Sibawaih’s theoretical constructs could, in certain instances, prevent him from analyzing phenomena which can be postulated to have existed in his lifetime, which he observed, but interpreted away, as it were, if they did not conform to his linguistic model.27 From an inverse perspective, the analysis of Sibawaih’s composite designation of sanctioned and proscribed sounds shows that western observers can be misled by interpreting his observations through their own lenses. In this case, scholars have, quite understandably it may be said, interpreted a [g] as Sibawaih’s (13), “the jiym like a kaaf ”. This interpretation makes sense. However, the evidence from Persian loanwords, however, speaks decisively against postulating this value, as the [g] is explicitly described as in (21). On the other hand, as soon as the composite forms are recognized as being built of a formula in which the likened-to phoneme is seen as a shorthand for defining the voicing parameter (see (25)), not only [č] and [č-like] sounds emerge from his description, but others as well which plau- sibly fit into Arabic variant forms. That is, as Carter (1972) first emphasized, understanding Sibawaih entails understanding the sometimes inimitable theoretical constructs and methodologies he built his grammar upon.

7. The History of the *k > č/c Split Revisited: Sibawaih and Historical Linguistic Reconstruction

The arguments given here obviously speak for a far earlier development of -č and perhaps -ts than in Holes’ (6 above) summary. Looking at a wider range of evidence from contemporary sources than has been done thus far reinforces this conclusion. Besides the palatalization summarized in (5) above, Seeger (2002) notes that conditioned [č], including the 2FSG -ič, occurs in Khorasan Arabic in eastern Iran, and Behnstedt and Woidich document the conditioned [č] “in non-/u/ contexts” (nicht -/u/- haltiger Umgebung”, 1984: 17 and p.c. May 2011) in the eastern part of the Sharqiyya (Egyptian Delta). Furthermore, Cantineau (1960: 66) writes that /č/ is found as an unconditioned reflex of /*k/ among Jewish speakers of Tlemcen, among Arabs in the Kabylie and in the area of Jijel (Djidjelli),

27 From a linguistic perspective, I consider this interpretation of Sibawaih yet another indication of the high degree of consistency in his linguistic thought. Theories elucidate, but they can also filter away objective reality. 200 jonathan owens fluuča < fluuka “boat”, and /ç/ in the mountains north of Tlemcen. Both Heath (2002: 139) and Vicente (2007: 131) note the [č] reflex of *k in northern Morocco ( Jebli dialects).28 Cantineau considers the basis of these palatalized variants to be old, i.e. he relates them to the kashkasha and kaskasa of the Arabic grammars, without giving a detailed history of each variant. In various Levantine dialects (in particular, those referred to as the bəkuul group) as well as Sukhne in Syria (Cantineau 1960: 66), *k unconditionally has changed to č (Grotzfeld 1980: 174, Behnstedt 1997: 30). Between the conditioned and unconditioned reflexes, the historical development was undoubtedly, *k > conditioned *č, and thereafter, conditioned *č > č (unconditioned). The Arabs of Khorasan probably go back to the earliest Arabic incur- sions (late seventh/early eighth century) outside of the original Arabic homeland, while the [č] in the Sharqiyya can equally be interpreted as an old relic. As far as North Africa goes, it is plausible that the earliest wave of Arabic speakers in the seventh and eighth centuries brought the forms to Algeria and Morocco, the complete merger having already occurred in the Levant. The evidence from contemporary dialectology alone then allows a revi- sion of Holes (1991) as well as of Owens (2009: 245). In the latter work two stages of reconstruction are postulated, one termed “pre-diasporic Arabic” which is broadly contemporary with Sibawaih’s grammar and marked with a single reconstruction star “*” the second a reconstructed proto-form which antedates the pre-diasporic form by a to-be-determined period, and designated with a double star “**”. The evidence that both the conditioned k > č and the unconditioned change are found both within the Arabic pre-diasporic homeland, as well as outside of it, is a classic argument that the change occurred once, within the homeland, then spread outside of it. The k—č split thus already existed in pre-diasporic Arabic. When the origin of the proto split is to be situated is an open question. In any case, in the formulation of Owens (2009), one would have:

(35) Arabic kaaf Proto Arabic: **k

28 Though Vicente (2005: 117) follows Heath (2002) in interpreting the palatalized kaf as a secondary development (see n. 29 for criticism of this interpretation). chapter 504 and modern arabic dialectology 201

Pre-diasporic Arabic: *k ~ č (both conditioned and unconditioned; more precisely, *k > *č in conditioned context (27), thereafter *k ~ *č > č). The evidence from Sibawaih presented in this paper is compatible with the evidence of this reconstruction, with [č] already existing by Sibawaih’s times, and perhaps -ts as well.29 Reconstruction based on the comparative method using the rich source of Arabic dialectology, and Sibawaih’s description, here, as in many other cases, mutually reinforce and enhance our interpretation of Arabic language history. This paper addresses a further issue which has yet to be given independent prominence, namely the sociolinguistic status of the many variants which Sibawaih discusses in the course of his Kitaab, and how his evaluation of them might be crucial in his own interpretation of the ʿArabiyya. It is argued here that his own interpretation of the [č] as a proscribed variant led to his reinterpretation of the 2FSG object suffix as a -kiš (or -kis) rather than what it was, a -č.

References

Bakalla, M. 1984. Arabic culture, through its language and literature. London. Kegan Paul International. Barth, Johan. 1911. ‘Das arabische š-Suffix 2.P.Sg. fem.’. Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes 25, 281–289. Beeston, Frederick. 1962. ‘Arabian sibilants’. Journal of Semitic Studies 7, 222–233. ——. 1984. Sabaic Grammar. Journal of Semitic Studies. University of Manchester. Behnstedt, Peter. 1997. Sprachatlas von Syrien. Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz. Behnstedt, Peter and Manfred Woidich. 1985. Die ägyptisch-arabischen Dialekte. Wiesba- den. Reichert. Boyce, Mary. 1975. A Reader in manichaean Middle Persian and Parthian. Leiden. Brill. Cantineau, Jean. 1960. Études de linguistique Arabes. Paris. Klincksieck. Carter, Michael. 1972. ‘Twenty dirhams in the Kitaab of Sibawaih’. Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 35, 485–496. ——. 1973. ‘An Arab grammarian of the eighth century A.D.’. Journal of the American Ori- ental Society 93, 146–167. Daniels, Peter. 2010. ‘Arabian sibilants again’. Paper presented at Meeting of American Oriental Society. Dekkak, M. 1979. Sex dialect in Tlemcen. PhD diss., London University. Fischer, Wolfdietrich. 1956. ‘k → š in den südlichen semitischen Sprachen (kaškaša)’. Mün- chener Studien zur Sprachwissenschaft 8, 25–38.

29 The results of this study, as well as others of its kind, argue very strongly against the approach of many linguists and Arabicists who assume a homogeneous and idealized Classical Arabic as the source of all later forms of Arabic. Heath (2002: 139) for instance says that /č/ did not exist in Classical Arabic. The evidence discussed here shows that such a formulation begs the question of what Classical Arabic can be assumed to be or have been. 202 jonathan owens

Grotzfeld, Heinz. 1980. ‘Das syrisch-palästinensische Raum’. Handbuch der arabischen Dia- lekte. W. Fischer and O. Jastrow (eds.). Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz, 174–191. Heath, Jeffrey. 2002. Jewish and Muslim dialects of Moroccan Arabic. London. Routledge. Hetzron, Robert. 1997. The Semitic languages. London. Kegan Paul. Holes, Clive. 1991. ‘Kashkasha and the fronting and affricization of the velar stops revisited: a contribution to the historical phonology of the peninsular Arabic dialects’. In: Semitic Studies in Honor of Wolf Leslau. Alan Kaye (ed.). Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz, 652–678. Ibn Manḏur,! Abu Fadl. Lisaan al-ʿArab. Beirut. Dar Al-Fikr. Ibn Mujahid. Kitaab al-sabʿa fiy al-Qiraa‌ʾ aat. Shawqi Dayf (ed.). Cairo. Dar al-Ma’arif. Ingham, Bruce. 1994. Najdi Arabic, Central Arabian. Amsterdam. John Benjamins. Al-Jaahiḏ,! Abu ‘Uthman. Al-Bayaan wa l-tabyiyn. Beirut. Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya. Jastrow, Otto. 1997. ‘The Neo-Aramaic languages’. In: Robert Hetzron (ed.), 334–377. Johnstone Thomas. M. 1963. ‘The Affrication of ‘kaaf ’ and ‘gaaf ’ in the Arabic dialects of the Arabian peninsula’. Journal of Semitic Studies 8, 210–226. Kaye, Alan. 1972. ‘Arabic /žiim/: a synchronic and diachronic study’. Linguistics 79, 31–72. Lane, Edward. 1980 (1877). Arabic-English lexicon. Beirut. Librairie de Liban. Nassir, Abdulmunim. 1993. Sibawayh the phonologist. London. Kegan Paul. Owens, Jonathan. 2009. A Linguistic history of Arabic. Oxford. Oxford University Press. Owens, Jonathan, Robin Dodsworth, Trent Rockwood. 2009. ‘Subject-verb order in spoken Arabic: Morpholexical and event-based factors’. Language Variation and Change 21, 39–67. Rabin, Chaim. 1951. Ancient West Arabian. London. Taylor’s Foreign Press. Al-Sakkaaki, Muḥammad. 1984. Miftaaḥ al-ʿuluwm. Na’i Zarzur (ed.). Beirut. Dar al-Kutub al-ʿAlamiyya. Salemann, C. 1930. A Middle Persian grammar. Bombay. British India Press. Sara, Solomon. 2013. ‘The Classical Arabic lexicographical tradition’. The Oxford handbook of Arabic Linguistics, J. Owens (ed.). Oxford. Oxford University Press. Schaade, A. 1911. Sibawaihi’s Lautlehre. Leiden. Brill. Seeger, Ulrich. 2002. ‘Zwei Texte im Dialekt der Araber von Chorasan’.“Sprich doch mit deinen Knechten Aramäisch, wir verstehen es! ” (Festschrift for Otto Jastrow), Hartmut Bobzin and Werner Arnold (eds.), 629–646. Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz. Shawarbah, Musa. 2007. The Dialect of the Tiyaaha. PhD thesis, Hebrew University. Sibawaih, Uthman. 1970. Al-Kitaab. H. Derenbourg (ed.). Hildesheim. Olms. Al-Suyuwṭiy, Jalaal al-Diyn. Al-Muzhir fiy ʿuluwm al-luɣa wa ʾanwaaʿuhaa. (see webpage: www.kotobarabia.com). Vicente, Angeles. 2005. Ceuta: une ville entre deux langues. Paris. L’Harmattan. ——. 2007. ‘Two cases of Moroccan Arabic in the diaspora’. In: Arabic in the City, C. Miller, E. Al-Wer, D. Caubet and J. Watson (eds.). London. Routledge, 123–144. Watson, Janet. 1992. ‘Kashkasha with reference to modern Yemeni dialects’. Zeitschrift für Arabische Linguistik 24, 60–81. ——. 2002. The phonology and morphology of Arabic. Oxford. Oxford University Press. Woidich, Manfred, and Liesbeth Zack. 2009. ‘The g/ǧ-question in Egyptian Arabic revisited’. In: Arabic Dialectology. In honour of Clive Holes on the occasion of his sixtieth Birthday, Enam Al-Wer and Rudolf de Jong (eds.), 41–60. Leiden. Brill.

Website http://web.phonetik.uni-frankfurt.de/upsid.html (UPSID). Interesting Facts on Ancient Mounds—Three Texts in the Bedouin Arabic Dialect of the Harran-Urfa Region (Southeastern Turkey)

Stephan Procházka

The article deals with an Arabic Bedouin dialect which is spoken in the plain of Harran situated south of the city of Urfa, Turkey. The dialect of the local Arab minority, which has been settled in that region for centuries, belongs to the so-called Šāwi vernaculars that are widespread among the goat and sheep breeding nomads of Syria and Iraq. Besides linguistic remarks on some outstanding phonological, morphological, and lexical features, the paper contains three original texts in transcription with English translation. The texts were recorded in three different villages and all deal with stories connected to the numerous ancient mounds in the region.

Introduction

Recently Bruce Ingham published an article on the speech of the Euphra- tes Bedouin, which he called a “fringe Mesopotamian dialect” (Ingham 2009). The present paper deals with a Bedouin dialect that is spoken on the opposite fringe of the Šāwi dialectal continuum. The Arabic dialects spoken in the vast Plain of Harran (called dīrit Ḥarrān in the local dialect) arguably constitute the northernmost variety of the Arabian Bedouin dialects, which for many decades have been the main focus of Bruce Ing- ham’s fruitful research. Many Arabs of the region investigated here live in the southern neighbourhoods of the provincial capital Şanlıurfa and in a few small towns between Urfa and the Syrian border, among them Harran and Tall Abyaḍ (Turkish Akçakale). Besides these urban settlements there are numerous tiny villages scattered in the fertile plain and often situated next to or around a ruin-mound. These tells are witnesses to the long history of the region, which boasts many remains of ancient civilizations. As they are the most conspicuous landmarks in the otherwise flat landscape, it is no wonder that the people relate many stories about the tells rising behind their villages. Three such stories, told by three men from three different villages, will be presented here. 204 stephan procházka

Although the nomadic way of life has completely disappeared from the region in question, its Arabic speaking population is well aware of their background and very proud to have a pedigree which distinguishes them from the Turks around them (though not from the Kurds, who are also a tribal society). This provides them with a certain sense of superiority which plays an important role in the people’s attitude towards their local dialect. In contrast to many other Arabic speaking minority groups in Turkey, the Arabs of the Harran-Urfa area take pride in their language and therefore actively transmit it to the next generation. There is also a certain interest in old narratives and oral poetry—that is, in those traditions which are, according to Bruce Ingham, “an important component of bedouin cultural distinctiveness” (Ingham 2006: 528). Ingham also stated that on the Ara- bian Peninsula another major factor in the preservation of this cultural distinctiveness and oral tradition are Bedouin cultural programmes in the media. Although Turkish media do not provide such possibilities for the community described here, one can notice increasing activities on more informal levels, particularly on internet sites and (non-professional) local radio and TV stations. They interview older people who talk about former times and record oral poems or narratives such as sīrat Bani Hilāl, which are sold as CDs in the market in Urfa and other towns. Strange to say, in the view of the local Arabs the term “Bedouin” does not designate a real Arab. On the contrary, I often heard it said al-badu muhum ʿarab ‘The Bed- ouins are not Arabs’, and my acquaintances vigorously protested when I told them that they speak a Bedouin-type dialect.

Linguistic Remarks1

The most conspicuous phonological features are the shift from ġ to q, the affrication of k (> č) and g (> ǧ) in the vicinity of front vowels, and the so- called gahawa-syndrome. Syntactically one notes an almost routine usage of tanwīn as a link between an indefinite noun and elements which qualify it. These elements can be adjectives as in bētin aswad ‘a black tent’ (Text C.4 below), but also whole phrases (with or without a verb) as in the proverb šahrin mālak bī xubuz lā tʿidd ʾiyyāmu ‘Do not count the days in which you had no bread (to eat)!’—in other words ‘Forget bad times!’ Thus in

1 For a short sketch of this dialect see Procházka 2003. For a discussion of its position among the Arabic dialects spoken in Turkey see Procházka 2006–07. interesting facts on ancient mounds 205 use of noun + tanwīn, Harran-Urfa Arabic almost completely conforms to the northeastern Arabian dialects described by Ingham 1982: 54–55.

Lexical Pecularities

Most parts of the lexicon of Harran-Urfa Arabic are rather conservative and share many features with Eastern Bedouin Arabic in general and other Šāwi dialects in particular.2 Due to the dominant position of Turk- ish in daily life, numerous Turkish words are used in any kind of conversation. Such words not only include modern terms but also everyday vocabulary—as, for example, in Text C.3 ärqäq (< erkek) ‘man’, qadǝn (< kadın) ‘woman’. Multiple word code-switching is relatively infrequent, so one rarely hears whole Turkish phrases or sentences embedded in Ara- bic conversation. But an example is gözü doldur! “Delight your eyes!” in Text C.8. Among the typically Šāwi and Iraqi gilit-dialect vocabulary the texts below use the verbs ʾanṭa—yinṭi ‘to give’ (Text C.3),3 darrab—ydarrib ‘to send’ (Text C.11; derived from the noun darib ‘way, path’),4 and ḥawwal— yḥawwil ‘to descend, to dismount’ (Text C.4).5 Other Šāwi and gilit-dialect words used in the texts are the preposition ǧawwa ‘under’ (Text A.7)6 and the particle zād ‘also’ (Texts A.6, B.1).7 Several prepositions and conjunctions seem especially characteristic of the local dialect.8 Among these is b-sāgt- ‘(together) with’, which is used instead of the preposition wiyya (typically Iraqi) respectively maʿ (in most other dialects). An example is found in Text C.6: hāt zād ṛubābtak ǝb-sāgtak! ‘And take the rebab with you!’ Another example is ti-trūḥ ǝb-sāgithe? ‘Will you go with her?’ The only etymological explanation I can offer is that the main word of this originally compound preposition goes back to the (feminine) noun sāq ‘shank, thigh’ and expresses the idea that what is at one’s thigh one has together with oneself.9 In contrast to most other

2 For further details cf. Procházka (forthcoming). 3 Behnstedt 1997: map 363: inṭa, Woodhead/Beene 1967: 462 niṭa. 4 Woodhead/Beene 1967: 155. 5 Behnstedt 1997: map 146. 6 Woodhead/Beene 1967: 81. 7 Behnstedt 1997: map 308 zād/zōd. 8 Such assertions must be made with caution as the lexicon of Šāwi Arabic is yet insuf- ficiently studied. 9 Cf. the similar development of the noun qafā ‘nape of the neck’ into a preposition meaning ‘behind’: e.g. Šukriyya (Sudan) bē-gafā (Reichmuth 1983: 210) and Šammar göfāk ‘behind you’ (Cantineau 1937: 209). 206 stephan procházka related dialects, where we find the word yamm to express the concept of proximity, Harran-Urfa Arabic uses the preposition suwāt ‘next to’—as in Text A.7 kull täll . . . suwātu ǧärye ‘next to every tell there is a village’ and bētna suwāt al-ǧāmiʿ ‘our house is next to the mosque’. The word is most likely derived from the root s-w-y ‘to be equal to’. (Cf. for Aleppo Barthé- lemy 1935–1954: 369 bǝswīt ‘au niveau de’.) A construction analogous to forms like dāyir ma dāyir, dāyir ma dār ‘around’10 is encountered in the ḥawāl-ma ḥawalē of Text A.7. Reflexes of ʾillā ‘except’ showing the vowel a in the first syllable (see alli in Text C.10) are uncommon in Šāwi dialects, but alla is cited for northeast Arabia in Ingham 1982: 54 mā yḥāćīna alla bnafsin šēn “he only talks to us with an unpleasant expression”. As in the dialects of Arabia (cf. Ingham 1991: 54–57), conjunctions based on the element yōm are most frequent for introducing clauses expressing exact time (in both past and present),11 e.g., yōmin ṣāyir fēḏ$ ‘when there was a flood’ (Text A.1) and yōminnu gāḷha ‘when he played it’ (Text C.10). As has already been noted in Procházka 2003: 85, šī expresses existence and māmin (or māmiš) non-existence. An example of šī is in Text C.6, and examples of māmin and māmiš are in Texts A.7, C.4 and B.4. Three verbs used in our texts merit special mention. The first is mā ndall ‘we don’t know’ in Text B.1. Verbs of this root usually mean ‘to show, to lead’, but a use similar to ours here is attested in a Šammari dialect: cf. Sowayan 1992: 265 dall ‘to know the way’. Not attested for other dialects but for Old Arabic is damm—ydumm ‘to bury’ (Text B passim) which certainly is a reflex of damma: see Lane 1863–93: 910a: damma l-ʾarḍa ‘he made the earth, or ground, even’ and damamtu ʿalayhi l-qabra ‘I covered the grave over him’. Finally, the verb riga/yirga ‘to ascend, to climb’, not attested for the Iraqi gilit dialects,12 clearly reflects Old Arabic raqiya, which hast the same meaning (cf. Wehr-Cowan s.v. r-q-y). A notable noun is lyās ‘(the act of ) plastering (of a wall)’ which is connected to the verb layyas ‘to plaster’. There is evidence of the latter in Syrian Arabic (Barthélemy 1935–1954: 771 layyas ‘crépir à la chaux’) but also in Classical texts (WKAS II, 1969 layyasa ‘to coat a thing with clay, to plaster’). The word wuruč ‘hip’ is used in Text C.7 in the sense of ‘slope, foot (of a mound)’. As cognates in Standard Arabic and other dialects mean also

10 Cf. Procházka 1993: 218. 11 Time clauses with regard to the present are only briefly discussed in Ingham 1991: 61f. 12 In Eastern Arabia the verb means ‘to go afloat, to put to sea’ (Holes 2001: 210). interesting facts on ancient mounds 207

‘thigh, leg’,13 one can assume a similar development here to the English expression ‘at the foot of a hill’. The Turkish loanword čōl < çöl ‘steppe’, which in many Arabic dialects means ‘steppe, desert’ (cf. e.g. Ingham 2009:101 čōl ‘desert’), has undergone semantic extension in Harran-Urfa Arabic and now also means ‘countryside’ (ač-čōl, Text A.5). Further remarks on specific vocabulary are given in the footnotes of the three texts.

Texts in Harran-Urfa Arabic14

The three texts which follow will be presented in transcription with Eng- lish translation. They were recorded from three different informants and all deal with facts or myths which the people of the Plain of Harran relate about the ruin mounds near their villages. The transcription is basically phonemic with a few exceptions: the allophones ä and -e# of the phoneme /a/ were written in cases where they are very clearly audible; and in some words the central vowel ǝ was written as an allophone of /i/. The latter is also the case for final -i#, which is frequently pronounced -ī y#.

Text A: The Origin of the Tells

This text was recorded in the village of az-Ziyāra (official Turkish name Yalnızca) on 9th May 2010. The main speaker is Brāhīm, a farmer who has lived in the village since his birth in 1974. He belongs to the Bani Yūsif tribe.

1 haḏanne, at-täll hāḏa ǧaʿ 15 ygūlūn al- These . . . this tell, so the old ones use ǝkbāṛ yaʿni, ygūlūn haḏanne min—fēḏ$ to say, these (tells) are (remains) of Nūḥ—fēḏ$ Nūḥ ṣāyir. ʾawwali yōmin the Flood, they originate from the ṣāyir fēḏ$ al-maṭāriḥ ḏīye kullhin ṣāyrīn Noah’s Flood. Once, during a flood, all mayye. these places were covered with water. 2 m-al-fēḏ$ haḏāk—ṣuwāṛa16 ṣāyre— This flood caused eddies, eddies ṣuwāṛa ṣāyre—w-ṣāyir al-fēḏ$ hāḏe emerged, and they separated the w-at-trāb hāḏe. water from the soil.

13 Wehr-Cowan s.v. w-r-k: wark, wirk, warik ‘hip, thigh’, Holes 2001: 556 warč ‘thigh, leg’. 14 The only text hitherto published is on truffles and found in Procházka 2010. 15 This is a shortened variant of ǧaʿad (which corresponds to the ǧāʿid of other Šāwi dialects) used as a modifier of the present tense. Hence in the Harran-Urfa region the modifier ǧaʿad and the full verb gaʿad “he sat” are real doublets. 16 The word ṣuwāṛa was explained to me as ‘turning water’; it is probably connected to the word for ‘bracelet’, cf. Iraqi Arabic swār (Woodhead/Beene 1967: 229) and Syrian Arabic ṣwār (Barthélemy 1935–1954: 449). 208 stephan procházka

3 ha-n-nōba hāḏa t-trāb hāḏa šunhu Well, what makes this soil different? fargu ʿinne? at-trāb min hāḏa l-gāʿ 17 The soil of this field and the soil of w-at-tall ǝtrābu mū wāḥad.18 the tell are not the same. 4 at-trāb haḏāk hāḏe ysawwūnu lubun In former times they used to make awwali. haḏāk ysawwūnu miššān al- mud bricks out of this soil. They did lyās yṣīr zēn. like that because the plaster comes out well. 5 ylayysūn ad-dār, al b-ač-čōl, ad-dār In the countryside they (still) plaster ylayysūnha b-haḏe19 miṯil ṣuwā20 miṯil the houses with it. It becomes (hard) čimenṭo, trābha farqli21 qēr šäkil, like (modern) plaster, like cement, because of its different structure. 6 yrūḥūn yǧībūn šī masa . . . al-ʿIlle zād They bring it also from al-ʿIlle:24 we šī, ngul-lu trāb al-ʿIlle. ǝǧǧību tlayyis even say “mud from al-ʿIlle”. You bring ad-dār yqadi miṯil čimenṭo, dūz,22 miṯil it and plaster your house with it and alči.23 it becomes like cement, smooth like gypsum mortar. 7 fargu min hāḏe, ǧawwāhin māmin šī This is the only difference: there is hāḏe. al-mille ište ḥawāl-ma ḥawalē nothing under them (i.e. no remains mʿammrīn bēt hināk w-ṣāyre ǧärye. of old cultures). The people have built kull täll yōw suwātu ǧärye yaʿni kull täll houses around them and so villages ǧawwāh ǧärye. have emerged. Beside every tell is a village; at the foot of every tell is a village.

Text B: Burying Children at the Foot of a Tell

This text was recorded in the village of az-Ziyāra on the same day as Text A. Its main speaker is Ismāʿīl, born in 1968, whose family belongs to the Bani Yūsif and who is actually from the village of Qōran (official Turkish name Uzunyol). He lives in one of the Arab neighbourhoods in the town of Urfa.

17 The noun gāʿ ‘soil, earth’ is usually feminine, e.g., gāʿ sōda ‘black soil’. 18 The pattern CāCaC is typical for the numeral ‘one’ in Palestinian and Jordanian dialects (cf. Mörth 1997: 10–11). 19 For b-hāḏe. 20 From Turkish sıva ‘plaster’. 21 Turkish farklı ‘different’. 22 From Turkish düz ‘smooth’. 23 Turkish alçı ‘gypsum (mortar)’. 24 Al-ʿIlle (Turkish Öncül) is a small village situated only a few metres from the Syrian border. Its famous mud production stopped a few years ago but the pits can still be seen. interesting facts on ancient mounds 209

To properly understand the text, it must be known that the deceased of many Arab villages around Harran are usually buried in the cemetery next to the sanctuary of Sheikh Ḥayāt al-Ḥarrānī.25

1 at-tlūl iḥna baʿǝḏ$ garāye zād, The tells, we . . .some villages also, aa.. ää . . . ysawwūhin26 zād la-ʿǝǧyān27 they use them also as cemeteries. They ǝẓġāṛ miǧanne. ydummūn ʿǝǧyān ǝẓġāṛ bury small children there. Well, we bīhin. yaʿni iḥna ta-ngūl 28 Qōran bälči speak about Qōran: maybe this village aǧ-ǧärye hāḏi mā ndall, mā šifit. [here is different], we don’t know, I have not seen (it). 2 ʾakṯar garāye, yōm-in ymūt ʿaǧīy-in In most of the villages . . . when a small ẓaġīr ʿǝmru šahar šahrēn, ʾarbaʿ tišhur, child whose age is a month or two, sine sintēn . . . la-sintēn ǝb-ʿagli hemen four months, a year or two—almost hemen, la-sintēn. mis-sintēn w-ʾasfal up to the age of two, as far as I al-ʿǝǧyān aẓ-ẓġāṛ yōm-in ymūtūn b-aǧ- know . . . Small children, two years and ǧärye, min hēne mā yāxḏu l-Ḥarrān younger, when they die in the village, ta-ydummu, ydummūnu b-at-tall— they don’t take them from here to b-at-tall. Harran to bury them, they bury them in the tell.—In the tell. 3 ʾī, yaʿni miǧanntin ẓġīre l-al-ʿǝǧyān Yes, it is a small cemetery for the small aẓ-ẓġāṛ, miǧann . . . miǧannt aẓ-ẓġāṛ. children, the cemetery of the small. yḥafrū-lu gabir ydummūnu b-at-tall. They dig a grave for him and then they ʾakṯar al-garāye yaʿni miǧanne zād bury him in the tell. Most villages use olarag ysawwūnu qullanma.29 it (the tell) also as a cemetery. 4 halḥīn zād ʿayne dawām ǝb-ʿagli, mū They still do it nowadays, don’t they, hīčiḏ, Brāhīm?—ē.—yaʿni ydummūn Brahim?—Yes!—Well, they bury ʿǝǧyān ǝẓġāṛ zād b-at-tall. al . . . mū al- small children in the tell: not the ǝkbāṛ mā ydummūnhum, bass aẓ-ẓġāṛ older ones, they don’t bury them here, ydummūnhum ǝb-ǧaryithum ta-mā only the small ones. They bury them yrūḥ ba . . . bʿīd awwali ta-ngūl bälči in their village in order not to go so wāsṭāt māmiš far (to visit their graves)—perhaps, because in former times there was no transportation,

25 A good description of the sanctuary as well as biographical information about Ḥayāt al-Ḥarrānī is provided by Rice 1955. 26 He refers to the plural tlūl ‘tells’ by using the feminine plural pronoun suffix. 27 Sg. ʿaǧīy ‘child’. The word is typical for the Syrian Šāwi dialects; cf. Behnstedt/Woid- ich 2011: map 18b which offers also an etymology for this word. 28 Most likely a calque of the frequently used Turkish discourse marker diyelim ‘let’s say!’ 29 The syntax of the last part is strongly influenced by Turkish. Moreover olarak means ‘as’, and sawwa qullanma is a compound verb consisting of the Arabic element sawwa ‘to make’ and the Turkish loan qullanma ‘usage’. Such constructions are rare in Harran-Urfa Arabic but frequently found in Cilician Arabic (cf. Procházka 2002: 197f.). 210 stephan procházka

5 wayya ta-mā yxarab al ymūt b-sāʿ or in order that (the dead) should not yirwiḥ, ydummūnhum hemen b-at-tall, be rotten. The one who dies begins to mā yāxḏūnhum ʿa-l-garāye. at-tall smell immediately. So they bury them hāḏa ysawwūnu bī, maxsati30 ta- immediately in the tell and don’t take tʿarifhe. them to the villages. This is what they do at the tell. My aim is (~I told this to you) that you should know this.

Text C: How Tall Nāṣir Got its Name

The speaker of this text is al-Ḥāǧǧ Mamdūḥ al-Badir, the current chief of the local Siyāla tribe. He was born around 1925 and is a well-known person in the whole region, highly esteemed for his knowledge of history and his poems.31 The text was recorded on 12th May 2010 during a visit to his home in the village of Tall Nāṣir (official Turkish name Sorallı).

1 Tall Xarma—SP ʾisim awwali Tall Tell Xarma—[SP] Its former name was Xarma?—Tall Qarma, zimān al- Tell Xarma?—Tell Qarma, in the era of ʿUsmalli, ʾā, baʿdēn ǧiddina hēn nāzil. the Ottomans. Then our grandfather huwwa w-rayyis al-ʿašāyir as-Sūrīye settled down here. A war broke out ṣār ḥarb. ma-bēn ʿašāyirna w-Sūrīye between him and the chief of the ṣār ḥarb čiṯīr. Syrian tribes. Between our tribes and the Syrians there was a lot of war. 2 rayyis al-ʿašāyir haḏāk gāyil la-š-šāʿir, The chief of those tribes said to a šāʿir ʾē, tʿarif šāʿir?—ʾē!—gāḷ: rūḥ! certain poet—a poet, yes, you know ʿa-rayyis ʿašāyir Ǧēs w-lē32 ṣār b-al- what a poet is?—Yes!—He said, “Go ghawa al-maǧlis ṣār tamām. ʾinte to the chief of the tribes of Qays! b-aṛ-ṛǝbāb, gūl: mǝn fōg diǧilha, mǝn And when he is sitting in the coffee fōg diǧilha33 kull al-ʿaǧādīy yassarat house, in the majlis, then it is the right wa-Čill ḥabbalha. (moment) to recite (to him) by playing the rebab:34

30 From Turkish maksat < Arabic maqṣid ‘goal, aim’. 31 Two of his poems can be heard on youtube (youtube.com/watch?v=NntdPCk7qks— “Siyeli aşireti reisi Hac Memduh el-Bedir”, access 5/1/2012). 32 Syntactically this should be a conjunction for a conditional; however, that is usually čādin and inčādin (or yēlōn for the irrealis). There is evidence of w-lē in Ingham 1982: 93 (w-lē ḏa) which is, however, a presentative particle. 33 The exact meaning of this verb was not known to my informants and even the speaker of the story (pretended?) not to know it. They explained this line to me as ‘he was beating them from above (~ while riding on his she-camel)’. However, the verb daǧala is cited in Lisān al-ʿArab in the meaning “to have sexual intercourse” (Ibn Manẓūr 1968: 237, s.r. d-ǧ-l: daǧala r-raǧulu l-marʾata wa-daǧāhā ʾiḏā ǧāmaʿahā) which perfectly fits the sense of the poem and also explains the harsh reaction of the sheikh. 34 I would like to thank Professor Clive Holes, Oxford, for his valuable comments on the translation of this poem. interesting facts on ancient mounds 211

3 yaʿni huwwa ärqäq hāḏi kullha That means he was a real man and qadǝn.35 sen böyle söyle: mǝn fōg those others were all (like) women. Say diǧilha, mǝn fōg diǧilha, kull al- this: ʿaǧādīy yassarat, wa-Čill ḥabbalha. gūl ‘He had sex with her up there hīčiḏ w-ʾāni ʾanṭīk čiṯīr maṣāri. hāḏi All men were taken captives zād xarǧiliq36 hāḏa ʾalbīs37 w-rūḥ! And Čill made her pregnant.’ Say like this and I’ll give you a lot of money. Here you have also some cash! Here you have clothes! And (now) go! 4 hā, ǧī ʿala ǧiddina hēne ḏāk az-zimān Hey, he came here to our grandfather qara čādir, byūt al-ʿarab. garāye flān and in that time there still were black māmin, kullu qara čādir, bētin aswad, tents, the tents of the Arabs. There bēt šaʿir. ʾāā, hāḏa zād ǧīy rāčib ʿa-ǧ- were no villages here, only the black ǧaḥaš, ḥawwal w-fāt w-gaʿad w-flān tent, the tent made of hair. This one w-qahwa w-kēf ʾifil. came riding on a donkey. He got off, came in and sat down. There was coffee and good cheer. 5 ʿugub gāḷ-lu: yā . . . yā ḏēfna$ halla Later he said to him, “O our guest, since ʿindak ṛubāba, halla sawwī-nna you have a rebab with you, please, teselli! giḏab$ aṛ-ṛubāba, gāḷ nōbtēn comfort us!” He took the rebab and ṯalāṯ šarqī,38 qēr šarqī, gāḷ ha-k-kilma played two or three songs, other songs hāḏi zād, gāḷ mǝn fōg diǧilha, mǝn fōg (than the one he was told in Syria). But diǧilha, kull al-ʿaǧādīy yassarat, wa- then he also said these words: Čill ḥabbalha. ‘He had sex with her up there All men were taken captives And Čill made her pregnant.’ 6 maḥḥad imtabbʿ-ilhe hāḏi ʾama Nobody understood; but the sheikh aš-šēx, xaššat qāftu, neyse hāḏi ǧat caught on to it.40 When the sheep al-ǝqnīm39 ʿa-l-ḥalīb aḏ-$ ḏuhur$ kull- came for the noon milking, everybody man rāḥ ʿala bētu ḏaḷḷ$ ar-rayyis hēne went home; only the chief stayed, the š-šēx, w-aš-šāʿir. gāḷ-ḷu: yā šāʿir! gāḷ: sheikh and the poet. He said to him, hā! gāḷ-ḷu: ʾimiš ta-nirga fōg at-tall “O poet!” He said, “Yes!” He said, “Come hāḏa w-daḥḥiǧ ʿala ʿurbān Ǧēs! šgadd on, let’s climb this hill and have a look ʿurbān šī? šgadd qanam šī? šgadd at the Arabs of Qays! How many Arabs baʿar šī? šgadd ḥarīm šī? šgadd yaʿni are there? How many sheep? How xēl? šūf al-ǝblād! hāt zād ṛubābtak many camels? How many women and ǝbsāgtak! how many horses? Have a look at this country and bring your rebab with you!

35 Turkish erkek ‘man’, kadın ‘woman’. 36 From Turkish harçlık ‘pocket-money, allowance’. 37 From Turkish elbise < Arabic ʾalbisa. 38 From Turkish şarkı ‘song’. 39 The plural qnīm, which also occurs in section 8 below, is remarkable. 40 Literally: it entered the sheikh’s head (qāftu ‘his head, without suffix qāfa < Turkish kafa ‘head’). 212 stephan procházka

7 hāḏa zād ʾǝstǝdār ʿala ʿiyālu, ǝlbis He (the sheikh) returned to his family al-qilīč,41 ǝlbis al-ʿabā fōgu w-rǝga too. He put on his sword, covered it ʿa-t-tall. at-tall hāḏa min fōg min qādi with the cloak and climbed the hill. ʿāli. min hēne hīčiḏ, ʾā, hīčiḏ ǝngūl, min This hill is steep on the other side. On qād ʿāli, min al-wurč aš-šimāli. this side here it is like this; but on the other side it is steep, on the northern slope. 8 gaʿadu hināk. gāḷ: daḥḥiǧ! gözü They sat down there and he said, doldur—ʾimil ʿēnak! ši-tšūf? gāḷ: “Look! Delight your eyes! What do ʾašūf ǝbyūt, čiṯīr. ʾuxra ši-tšūf? gāḷ: you see?” He said, “I see tents, many ʾašūf ǝqnīm. ʾuxra? gāḷ: baʿar čiṯīr. indeed.” “What else do you see?” He ʾuxra? gāḷ: ʾawādim čiṯīr, xēl čiṯīr, ʾAlla said, “I see sheep.” “What else?” He said, yhannīk bīhum! ʾAlla yhannīk bīhum! “Many camels.” “What else?” He said, “Many men, many horses. May God grant you happiness through them!” 9 gāḷ: zēn šifit? zēn daḥḥiǧha! gāḷ: zēn, He said, “Did you look well (at them)? milēt ʿēni, yūūūūū . . . gāl: tisḥab-inne Take a hard look at them!” He said, ṛ-ṛubāba wannisne ta-šūf! saḥab aṛ- “I have delighted my eyes, yoo-hoo!” He ṛubāba, gāḷ-ḷu gaṣīdtēn ṯalāṯ. gāḷ: mū said, “Take the rebab and divert me!” hāḏi! al gulithe aḏ-$ ḏaḥa.$ gāḷ qērhe, He took the rebab and recited two or gāḷ: mū hāḏi, alli gulitha b-al-ǝghawa. three poems for him. He said, “Not this one, the one you played before noon!” He played another one. So he said, “Not this one, the one you played in the coffeehouse!” 10 mā ʿād yʿarif ši-yrīd yigūl. mā ḏallat$ He (the poet) no longer knew what he firṣa yōx42 ʾalli tgūlhe. gāḷ: yōminnu could play. (The sheikh) said, “There maǧbūr ʾalli-gūl. yōminnu gāḷha lissaʿ is nothing left but to play it.” He said, mā gāḷ tamām, hāḏa b-as-sēf gāḷ bī “If it is really necessary I’ll play it.” He hīčiḏ wa-ṛāsu yidriǧ w-ytammim as- played it again. But before he could sālfe. finish it [the sheikh] said, the sword (in his hand), “It’s like that!”—And so he finished the poem while his head was rolling down (the hill). 11 ʾismu Nāṣir, aš-šāʿir ʾismu Nāṣir. His name was Nāṣir; the poet’s name ʾawwali čān at-tall hāḏa Tall Xarma, was Nāṣir. Before that the tell’s name b-zimān al-ʿUsmalli, w-min inḏíbaḥ bī was Tall Xarma, in the time of the az-zlime hāḏa ṣār Tall Nāṣir, ʾinḏíbaḥ Ottomans. But when this man was bī w-indífan fōgu. hā hīčiḏ ǧiddina slaughtered there, it became Tall Nāṣir. ḏbuḥu,43 wa-Čill darrabu min Sūrīye He was slaughtered and buried on it. hīčiḏ. Our grandfather killed him like this; and Čill had sent him from Syria.

41 From Turkish kılıç. 42 From Turkish yok ‘there is not’, which is pronounced yox in the local dialect. 43 For this phonological change, which is typical of the Šāwi dialects, cf. ḏṛöbo$ ‘il l’a frappé’ (Cantineau 1936: 94). interesting facts on ancient mounds 213

References

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Antigemination as Morphosemantic Integrity in Arabic Dialects

Kirsty Rowan

Resistance to syncope in certain data from Arabic dialects motivated the proposal for antigemination as a function of the Obligatory Contour Prin- ciple (OCP). More recent revisions to the OCP as being operative in this phonological process have claimed that the non-application of syncope is due to homophony avoidance or resistance to paradigm collapse. The present analysis considers the importance of the morphosemantic properties of the forms which block syncope. The approach seeks to unify the targets of resistance to syncope (Forms II and III) in the discussion of gemination as encoding plurality. The cross-linguistic implications for the claims made here is that phonological processes will be prohibited from applying if their application results in morphosemantic information being jeopardised. This study investigates the problem of antigemination in certain Arabic dialects. I put forward the view that any proposal for the occurrence of antigemination should not be purely formally driven within an isolated phonological framework, but should also address a systematic study into the morphosemantic properties of the particular forms. This is dependent on acknowledging that there is a morphosemantic association between the verbal forms II and III, with particular reference to the reduplicative structure exhibited by geminate consonants and lengthened vowels. While this paper is not meant to be an exhaustive account of the morphosemantic or morphosyntactic properties of the Arabic verbs, I try to highlight the issue that considerations on these properties are dependent for an explanation of antigemination.

Arabic Morphosemantic Forms

The fundamental feature of Arabic derivational morphology is that the verbal root exhibits ‘morphosemantic’ patterns (Holes 2004: 100).1 Vernet

1 The issues relating to the debate on the Semitic root are not discussed here, for an overview of the main arguments see Olmo Lete (2008) and Goldenberg (1994). 216 kirsty rowan defines the Semitic verbal root as a “radical morpheme whose constituent elements cannot be combined arbitrarily but are subject to specific com- binatory sequences” (2011: 2). The patterns which are of specific interest to this discussion are forms I, II and III. The format of these patterns is: ‘regular’ ‘doubled’ (i) Form i cVCVc cVCiCi (ii) Form ii cVCiCiVCj cVCiCiVCi (iii) Form iii cVVCVc cVVCiVCi Form I is understood as being the ‘basic’ form whereby the ‘doubled’ pattern has identical second and third consonants (radicals). The ‘regular’ form II pattern has a geminated medial radical with a non-identical third radical, which is in contrast to its ‘doubled’ pattern whereby the final radical is identical to the geminated medial. Finally, form III shows that its pattern is a lengthened vowel between the first and second radical. The two final radicals in the ‘doubled’ form are identical.2 The patterns are widely understood to be augmented forms of the ‘basic’ form I pattern. Form II is considered to modify the form I pattern giving the following semantic ranges (examples from Holes 2004: 101–2):

(1) Form I verbs Form II verbs JM‘ ‘collect’ JMM‘ ‘amass, pile up’ intensive/extensive nbŠ ‘unearth, dig up’ nbbŠ ‘ransac intensive/extensive QDM ‘precede, go before’ QDDM ‘put forward’ causative KBR ‘be great’ KBBR ‘praise’ estimative/ascriptive ‘QM ‘sterile, barren’ ‘QQM ‘sterilise’ denominative

Danks summarises further semantic ranges, with references cited therein (2011: 66–67) such as iterative, frequentative, and delocutive. The manner in which the verb is related to the noun phrases in its clauses is also identified as being combined in the patterns. Form II verbs are often found to be causative of transitive form I verbs, with intransitive form I patterns having a transitive meaning in their augmented form II (Ryding 2005: 491). Holes brings to our attention a study (conducted by Uth 1997 as reported by Blohm 1990) which found that 61% of commonly used form II verbs are causative in MSA, with 11% as intensive and 3% are causative-intensive,

2 As is well-known, form II is associated with form V as is form III with form VI both in the pattern and semantic relationship. Although for clarity of the discussion given in this paper, I focus specifically on the forms II and III. antigemination as morphosemantic integrity 217 with the remaining 25% not being able to be assigned to any of these ranges (2004: 142, fn. 4).3 Turning to the pattern of form III, it is commonly considered to have the meaning of associative i.e. involving another person in the action. Ryding (2005: 503) also states that the “related semantic modifications conveyed by this inflectional class include reciprocal action, repeated action and attempted action.” For Holes (2004: 102), the basic meaning of this pattern is conative which indicates the effort of the agent in performing the activity of the verb, whereas Danks (2011: 137) defines its role as mainly mutual. The following examples are taken from Holes (2004: 102). The first verb in the form III examples giving a conative meaning with the last three forms indicating the involvement of a patient or of a participant in the action other than the subject often implied:

(2) Form I verbs Form III verbs QTL ‘kill’ Qv:TL ‘try to kill’ KTB ‘write’ Kv:TB ‘correspond with’ ‘ML ‘do’ ‘v:ML ‘treat’ QBL ‘move forward’ Qv:BL ‘meet’

Establishing the precise semantic identity of the verbal patterns has ranged from proposals which generalise greatly to detailed specification. A summary of grammarian proposals for the patterns and their semantic representation is given in Danks (2011). This summary and his discussion detail the drawbacks from the ‘explicit specification’ (reference grammars) and the ‘reductionist’ approaches (learner’s grammars such as Badawi, Carter and Gully 2004). Whilst acknowledging that the differences in approaches are appropriate given the intended readership, Danks (2011: 73) is clear that both approaches are needed. This is to ensure that there is no predictability assumed in the verbal semantics of the patterns (‘explicit specification’), while at the same time realising that there are generalised commonalities (‘reductionist’). The contribution of linguists to the investigation of the semantic properties of the forms, both from an historical and synchronic perspective, is critiqued by Danks (2011).4 He is concerned

3 A frequency analysis is also conducted in Danks (2011) on the aspectual categorisation. 4 Gafos (2003: 346) refers to the significant impact that the descriptive grammars have had on generative phonology, particularly in their determinism of the canonical patterns of Arabic verbs. The analysis presented in Gafos emphasises that there should be a shift of focus from these patterns to the actual stems and their ‘context of occurrence within paradigms.’ He argues that this would make it possible to detect genuine phonology across 218 kirsty rowan that comprehensive studies are lacking and that by exploring only the components of the system of Arabic leads to little significant progress especially within the semantics of the Semitic verbal system. The ‘reductionist’ approach comes in for criticism in Kouwenberg (1997), specifically in regards to the copious generalised proposals made on the functions of the forms based on only a few adduced examples. These considerations should be all-important in the reflection that phonologists should take when approaching Arabic data. In particular, I maintain that assuming the templatic pattern of the forms have a ‘generalised’ aspectual meaning is a major mistake for an investigation into a process which I propose adheres to specific morphosemantic categories. I now turn to this process which is receiving renewed attention within phonology, namely antigemination as it specifically relates to forms II and III.5 I then return to the morphosemantic properties of these patterns in light of recent research.

The OCP and Antigemination

The identification of consonantal incompatibility with similar/identical segments in Arabic verbal roots (Greenberg 1950) was formalised in phonological theory with the proposal of the OCP (Obligatory Contour Prin- ciple) as applying to Semitic root consonants in general (McCarthy 1981).6 The OCP stipulates that adjacent identical elements (segments, tones, features etc.) are prohibited. The proposal for the OCP being operative in Semitic languages gave rise to a number of investigations into its func- tioning (Rose 2000a, Pierrehumbert 1993, Yip 1988). Although the OCP has been challenged by others (Kenstowicz 1982), the most critical appraisal (Odden 1988), has not damaged its place within Semitic linguistics nor in formal linguistic theory. The term ‘antigemination’ originates from McCarthy’s (1986) investigation into OCP effects. Antigemination can be defined as a blocking of phonological processes such as regular vowel syncope from applying if its application would result in direct OCP.

the different forms of the Arabic verb. His proposal details that ‘doubled’ form I and IX with final duplication of the consonants are the ‘phonologically determined surface variants of their geminate-final stems.’ 5 Based on this proposal, it leads me to exclude the discussion on ‘doubled’ form I verbs which do display gemination. 6 For a detailed examination of root compatibility using a statistical analysis, see Bachra (2001). antigemination as morphosemantic integrity 219

Regular vowel syncope is found throughout the inflectional paradigms (forms) in the majority of the Arabic dialects.7 The environment in which syncope takes place is the position between identical final consonants. The syncope process is not dependent on the identity of the suffix i.e. regardless of whether the suffix is vowel or consonant initial. The following examples show the syncope in the doubled forms:

(3) Form I ‘regular’ kitab ‘he wrote’ Form I ‘doubled’ sadd ‘he closed’ *sadad Form IV ‘regular’ Ɂanjaz ‘he accomplished’ Form IV ‘doubled’ Ɂaṣarr ‘he insisted’ *Ɂaṣarar

Various proposals have been put forth to account for the occurrence/non- occurrence of antigemination in Iraqi Arabic and other Arabic dialects along with further languages of the world. While I do not discuss the theory- internal proposals for the occurrence of antigemination, in particular McCarthy’s (1986) assessment, there are explicit general properties of the process that I highlight from previous analyses and discussions. Moreover, current investigations have reassessed the applicability of the OCP and have yielded alternative proposals. It is these proposals that are discussed herein. Initiating the formal treatment of antigemination in phonology, McCarthy agrees with Erwin’s (1963) claim in his reference grammar of Iraqi Arabic, that the facts for antigemination in this dialect are ‘puzzling’ (1986). It is not that the language disallows geminates as they occur in a multitude of hetero- and tautomorphemic forms, leading McCarthy to propose the formal device of tier conflation to account for the contradiction in the process. In their study into gemination and antigemination in Iraqi Arabic, Majdi and Winston outline that “rules of epenthesis and syncope do not apply in a systematic way to all triconsonantal roots. These rules seem to be restricted when applied to roots which contain geminated or adjacent identical consonants” (1993: 165–66). The argument that Majdi and Winston put forward to account for the non-systematic process is based on the interaction between the syllable structure and stress which will not be further discussed here. An overview of the antigemination process in Iraqi Arabic is that the ‘regular’ form II verbs of the pattern CVCiCiVCj will exhibit optional syncope

7 This is also evident with the further forms VII, VIII and X. 220 kirsty rowan of the ultimate vowel once morphological suffixation has applied (along with degemination): baddal+at → baddlat → [badlat] ‘she changed.’8 This is in contrast to ‘doubled’ form II verbs whereby the final consonant is also identical to the medial: CVCiCiVCi baddad+at → baddadat → [baddidat]9 *[badddat]/*[baddat] ‘she wasted.’ Within form II roots, syncope applies feeding degemination, if the form has a non-identical final consonant to the medial geminate (regular) whereas if this final consonant is identical (doubled), then antigemination is enforced. Antigemination is also evidenced in the ‘doubled’ form III roots of the structure CVVCiVCi e.g. ħaajaj → ħaajij+at → [ħaajijat] *[ħaajjat] ‘she argued with.’ This is in contrast to the form III roots which do not have identical final consonants i.e. the ‘regular’ form III verbs CVVCiVCj e.g. xaabar → xaabar+at → [xaabrat] *[xaabarat] ‘she telephoned.’10

Antigemination as Homophony Avoidance

Rose (2000a) rejects the antigemination process as an instantiation of the OCP and argues that it is avoidance of the creation of geminate consonants. Geminate creation avoidance is detailed to occur in specific contexts for Iraqi Arabic, which Rose (2000b) proposes occurs in two separate instances of verbal forms: (i) when the preceding syllable is CVV or (ii) if syncope leading to geminate creation results in homophony The forms which relate to (i) are those from the ‘doubled’ form III verbs. The forms that would result in homophony (ii) are the ‘doubled’ verbs of form II i.e. CVCiCiVCi baddad ‘waste’. In the 3FS structure, if syncope were to apply, the resulting form would be *baddat (baddad+at → badddat then degemination to baddat ‘she wasted’). The *baddat form now has the appearance of a ‘doubled’ form I verb with 3FS suffix e.g. CVCiCi+at. Majdi and Winston (1993: 176) observe this in a footnote but do not define it as homophony avoidance. They use examples where the resulting forms

8 The process can be optional for ‘regular’ form II verbs in Iraqi Arabic which either displays antigemination leading to degemination or not e.g. [sajjal] ‘he registered’, [sajlat]/ [sajjilat] ‘she registered’ (Rose 2000b). 9 Iraqi Arabic displays vowel raising of the penultimate vowel in certain forms. 10 In Modern Standard Arabic, syncope does sometimes apply in instances of form III ‘doubled’ verbs e.g. [ħaajja] ~ [ħaajaja] ‘he argued.’ Moore (1990: 84) terms these instances as ‘exceptional.’ antigemination as morphosemantic integrity 221 would be identical such as the form II ‘doubled’ verb with 3FS qarrar+at → [qarrirat] ‘she decided’, if geminate creation is not resisted in this form and syncope applies then the resulting form would be *[qarrat] which is identical to the form I ‘doubled’ verb qarr+at → qarrat ‘she admitted’ and would therefore be homophonous. There has been renewed interest in explaining certain irregularities within morphology and phonology as homophony avoidance. Phonolo- gists, mainly working within an Optimality Theory framework, have analysed various ‘irregular’ cross-linguistic phonological processes and explained their ‘exceptionality’ as homophony avoidance (Yip 1998, Cross- white 1999, Kenstowicz 2005, Rebrus and Törkenczy 2005). For the ‘irregularity’ of the antigemination process and also working in an OT framework, Rose (2000b) considers that avoiding geminate creation if it would lead to homophony in Arabic is better captured by the constraint of ‘Morphemic Disjointedness’ (McCarthy & Prince 1995). The details of the OT analysis are not discussed here although Rose’s argument for homophony avoidance is considered. Rose (2000b:12) defines homophony avoidance in Arabic as pertaining to the avoidance of identical templatic shapes. It is argued here that it cannot be the case that homophony avoidance actua- lised as resistance to geminate creation is to block different forms of the verbs from having the same templatic pattern. An issue with positing homophony avoidance as a motivating factor is the optional syncope in ‘regular’ form II verbs with a medial geminate in Iraqi Arabic i.e. CVCiCiVCj. In forms such as sajjal with affixation of the 3FS show that syncope can apply, feeding degemination sajjal+at → sajjlat → sajlat [sajlat] (~[sajjilat]) ‘she registered’. As already discussed, with syncope applying the ‘regular’ form II verb now has the identical templatic shape of a ‘regular’ form I verb for 3FS: kitab+at →[kitbat] ‘she wrote’, Ɂakal+at → [Ɂaklat] ‘she ate’. In her discussion of this issue, Rose (2000b: 12) uses the example that when syncope applies in a ‘regular’ form II verb darras+at → darrsat → darsat ‘she taught’ it then has the same templatic pattern as a form I ‘regular’ verb diras+at → dirsat ‘she studied.’ The problem of homophony is not considered to apply in these cases as Rose maintains that it is because the initial vowel is always high [i] or [u], with a few exceptions (2000b). Not only would this mean that the identity of the initial vowel has to be considered along with the template pattern in order to check for homophony, but there is a conflict in that syncope applies in some instances and causes homophonous forms and syncope is resisted in others in order not to create homophonous forms. 222 kirsty rowan

It is difficult to determine how this disparity in syncope processes that instigate homophony and those which avoid it (namely antigemination) can be formulated into the synchronic grammar of Arabic or indeed any other language. As Blevins (2005: 207) states, ‘even within the same language families that provide evidence for antigemination, one finds syncope of vowels between identical consonants.’ Another issue is how this conflict can be addressed in considering the role of learnability. If it is accepted that antigemination is due to homophony avoidance then the complexity of when to syncopate a vowel and when not leads to a burden on the learner’s decision making.11 Kenstowicz (2005) investigates the non-occurrence of expected phonological processes in Arabic dialects such as irregularities in stress and explains ‘quirky stress’ as homophony avoidance. His OT analysis proposes the ‘Paradigmatic Contrast Constraint’ which maintains that two phonologically distinct members of a paradigm must maintain phonetic distinctiveness. Kenstowicz’s account does not investigate antigemination, which is the concern of this paper although he raises a pertinent point in his conclusion which is highly relevant to the proposal put forth here (2005: 165): Generative grammar has focused on the study of individual words and sentences isolated from the rest of the lexicon and the phonetic and semantic/ pragmatic modules. This idealization has been tremendously productive. But there is growing evidence that it is also too severe. Aspects of grammatical form are sensitive to contextual factors.12

Antigemination as Resistance to Paradigm Collapse

Within an Evolutionary Phonology approach, Blevins (2005) does consider cross-linguistic synchronic occurrences of antigemination. She argues against antigemination effects being a consequence of the OCP and that the process is better explained as a case of resistance to ‘paradigm collapse’ or due to ‘paradigm-internal anti-homophony constraints.’ In an

11 The issue of learnability is also raised in Bat-El’s (2003) investigation into the Semitic root and his discussion of learners’ difficulties, which prompts him to reject the consonantal root. This is also the view of Bohas (2006) although he argues against the root from a different stance. Cf. the psycholinguistic study conducted by Prunet, Béland & Idrissi (2000). 12 Gafos (2003) also calls for a non-isolating approach in phonological and morphological analysis in his stem-paradigm investigation of Arabic. antigemination as morphosemantic integrity 223 attempt to unify cross-linguistic antigemination processes, Blevins high- lights an important observation “antigemination is attested in languages with pre-existing geminate-singleton contrasts and in languages with degemination, but not elsewhere” (2005: 207). This phonological contrast is assumed to have arisen as a formal extension in order to make words more expressive or intensive in Semitic (Kouwenberg 1997). In her examination of antigemination in certain Arabic dialects (Iraqi, Damascene and Tunisian), Blevins reconsiders McCarthy’s (1986) suggestion that Tunisian Arabic has regular antigemination effects, and asserts that these are only found in forms in the verbal paradigm of the ‘doubled’ form II.13 Antigemination is triggered when these verbs take a vowel initial suffix as in the Iraqi Arabic examples, xaffif → [xaffifu] ‘they alleviated’ *[xaffu]. The ‘reductionist’ reason for this antigemination according to Blevins is that “many of the CVCiCiVCi verbs in question are causative forms of CVCiCi stems. Given this, the consequence of syncope + degemination is to essentially undo the templatic morphology associated with causative formation” (2005: 212). This broad anti-homophony proposal in Arabic would be in need of a systematic and definitive investigation as consideration is needed on how these structures would thus be repaired through pragmatics. Applying the anti-homophony proposal specifically to Iraqi Arabic, Blevins over-generalises the antigemination data when she states that “syncope is consistently blocked in inflected verbs, whether they are associated with CVCCVC (class II) or CVVCVC (class III) templates” (2005: 213). As previously discussed, antigemination only applies to the ‘doubled’ forms of these verbs (CVCiCiVCi and CVVCiVCi). An issue arising from Blevins’ use of this data of the II and III forms is that no reflection is then given on how the anti-homophony proposal applies to form III verbs. For example, if syncope applied, resulting in gemination of ‘doubled’ form III verbs we would have the following occurrence: ħaajaj → ħaajaj+at → *[ħaajjat]14 ([ħaajijat]) ‘she argued.’ If this resulting form occurred there would not be any case of homophony with another templatic form i.e. the structure CVVCiCi is not a member of any of the augmented verbal patterns of Arabic.

13 Blevins tidies up McCarthy’s account of Tunisian Arabic as she points out that syncope regularly applies whether geminates would be created or not in nouns, adjectives and participles (2005: 211), thus antigemination singularly affects the verbal category. 14 Or possibly *[ħaajat] depending on whether syncope specifically always feeds degemination. 224 kirsty rowan

I maintain that it cannot be the case that antigemination as homophony avoidance to prohibit paradigm collapse would apply to form II ‘doubled’ verbs but not to form III ‘doubled’ verbs. Surely this inconsistency poses a threat to the possibility of homophony avoidance being the motivating reason in the Iraqi Arabic antigemination process. The discussion given here concerning Arabic dialects contributes to rejecting homophony avoidance as a language-specific constraint, let alone a universal principle. Therefore, as with the OCP, homophony avoidance as an explanation for antigemination cannot be valid.15 The striking absence in these formal accounts is that the role or nature of gemination itself is not considered. In the next section, I discuss the semantic relevance that is encoded by geminate consonants and also by lengthened vowels in Arabic. The relevance of geminate (or lengthened segments) in antigemination processes is also seen cross-linguistically.

Gemination as Reduplication

Considerations on the role of gemination in Arabic come from varied positions. A morphological account is given in El Zarka’s (2005) study which is concerned with whether gemination can be identified as an instance of reduplication. She assumes that syllable reduplication is more natural than the doubling of ‘bare segments’ (2005: 373) and that gemination in Arabic verbs should be viewed as reduplication. Importantly, she high- lights that formal generative phonological treatments of gemination in Semitic languages have failed to consider the semantic association that geminates encode. The major formal phonological accounts have proposed that geminates are an instance of one-to-many association (McCarthy 1981), which can also result in ‘long-distance’ geminates (McCarthy 1986). Further phonological theoretical accounts in Gafos (1998) and Rose (2000a) argue against the representation of ‘long-distance’ identical segments as geminates and propose for theory internal reasons that they should be analysed as instances of reduplication instead, although this representation is not proposed through considerations on the role of reduplication

15 See Odden (1988) for the arguments against the OCP. The issue of a universal applicability of homophony avoidance is debated in Baerman (2011). He discusses the possibility that homophony avoidance may play a role in irregularities (lexical and paradigmatic) but that it cannot be generalised. antigemination as morphosemantic integrity 225 morphologically. McCarthy’s (1986) account of the OCP being operative and the one-to-many association to explain gemination also ignores considering the semantic component that is exhibited by geminates. By segregating different morphemes onto different tiers to explain that “phonological rules of a particular sort cannot apply to sequences of identical elements within a morpheme,” perhaps the crucial role that semantics plays in this irregularity has been missed (1986: 218). If the phonological irregularity of antigemination that is particular to forms II and III cannot be explained by homophony avoidance, then another proposal needs consideration in combining them. I put forward that what unites these forms is that they instance plurality and as such are iconic. Firstly, I briefly summarise the proposals for plurality. This leads to considerations on their development and why they display antigemination.

Reduplication and Plurality

Greenberg (1991) presents a major insight into the Arabic form II verbs in that they indicate plurality.16 Contributing to previous studies which identified that number is encoded in the verb in distinct language families, and not a property which is exclusively encoded in nominal forms; Greenberg asserts that the form II has typical characteristics of verbal plurality. In this seminal paper, Greenberg is clear in stating that two typical characteristics of verbal plurality are partial reduplication and repetitive meaning. Partial reduplication is associated to the gemination of the medial radical in form II verbs and a parallel is drawn between repetitive and the intensive meaning of these forms. The following forms from Iraqi Arabic are cited in Greenberg as evidencing plurality: form I nigab ‘bore a hole,’ form II naggab ‘bore many holes’; form I ʿafar ‘dig,’ form II ʿaffar ‘dig here and there’ (1991: 581). From his discussion, Greenberg assumes that reduplication of the medial geminate which is “by no means the only method, but a particularly prominent one in the expression of distributive plurality in the verb, has as its original sound symbolic meaning ‘temporal repetition’ ” (1991: 584). Form III is identified as evidencing plurality in the explicit phonological proposal of Benmamoun (2003) and in the morphosyntactic account of Fassi Fehri (2003). Drawing a parallel between Arabic broken plurals

16 Kouwenberg (1997: 44) refers to several Semitic scholars who express this idea, although without conclusive argumentation, in work that predates Greenberg’s paper. 226 kirsty rowan which are indicated for plurality by the lengthening of the vowel (dars ‘lesson,’ duruus ‘lessons,’ kalb ‘dog,’ kilaab ‘dogs’ etc.) and the lengthened vowel in form III verbs, Benmamoun proposes that these verbs are marked for plurality. The reciprocal meaning related to form III verbs is interpreted by Benmamoun as not always implying reciprocity but possibly the sharing of an action.17 His account seeks to unify the analysis of nominal and verbal forms i.e. broken plurals and form III plural formation and that the basis for deriving the form III verbs is the imperfective verb or template. Thus he argues for the word as a basis of derivation as opposed to the root (2003). This same proposal is explicitly stated by Fassi Fehri, “nominal vowel gemination has a verbal counterpart in FIII” (2003: 160). Semantic plurality in these forms is supported by Danks (2011: 141) who finds the morphosyntactic case made in Fassi Fehri (2003) more convincing. In Fassi Fehri’s paper he is concerned with how verbal plurality is related to transitivity, and although I do not detail the further claims made, there are some specific issues which are of note. The verbal forms II and III are aligned by showing that form II encodes plurality by geminating the consonant of the second syllable whereas in form III it is encoded by geminating the vowel in the first syllable (2003: 161). Further, Fassi Fehri hypothesises that if forms II and III (including IV) are morphosyntactically related then form III is ‘derived’ from form II. The historical relatedness of forms II and III is considered by Lipiński (1997), although his proposal is that there was a singular form whereby it ‘split’ into forms II and III resulting from a ‘specialisation of functions’ (1997: 386) and contra to Fassi Fehri, not that form III is derived from form II. This is explained by his considerations of the non-occurrence of a verbal class with gemination in Cushitic and Modern South Arabian where their intensives have a lengthened vowel and so indicate that there was a phonological equivalence of the structures VVC and VCiCi.18 This leads Lipiński to hypothesise that VVC and VCiCi were originally alternants of a ‘phonotactic free variation’ for indicating the intensive (1997: 38). As the forms II and III are also identified by Lipiński as implying repetition (with a secondary meaning of conative or reciprocal), he speculates that this led to a semantic opposition between the verbs with lengthened vowels (form

17 Fassi Fehri (2003: 160) remarks that this expresses the meaning of participation (mušaarakah) in traditional grammars. 18 The intensive aspect in Tigre is identified as being formed by the ‘infixation’ of the long vowel [a:] (Rose 2003). antigemination as morphosemantic integrity 227

III VVC) and geminate consonants (form II VCiCi) in certain Arabic (and Ethiopic) verbs. Thereby the early Arab grammarians determined form III as a distinct derived stem based on their contrastive use in a number of verbs (1997: 387). Unifying the ‘reduplication’ of the vowel in form III and the consonants in form II as indicating plurality is reflected in proposals for iconicity in language.19 Reduplication is considered as one of the most iconic occurrences in language. A detailed discussion of the iconic status of gemination in Akkadian and Semitic is given in Kouwenberg (1997), who also extends the discussion to vowel lengthening as expressing iconicity albeit in the most weakened state. In this discussion, Kouwenberg distinguishes between two types of words which show reduplication: (i) those which exhibit sound symbolic (‘phonetic iconicity’) associations20 and (ii) those which exhibit ‘iconic extensions’ through the reduplication of one or two radicals. These iconic extensions make the verb (or noun) more expressive or intensive. This view that the reduplication of segments, such as gemination in Arabic is an instantiation of morphological reduplication is agreed with in El Zarka (2005). Kouwenberg also proposes that Semitic gemination and reduplication have a common origin and puts forward the possibility that the historical development of gemination leads to grammaticalisation whereas reduplication maintains its iconic character. This development is rejected in El Zarka (2005) who details instances in Modern Standard Arabic whereby reduplication is shown in later stages of the language. Both authors address gemination as reduplication in view to discuss grammaticalisation which is outside the scope of this present study. What is highlighted from these discussions is that if the lengthening or doubling of segments is a form of reduplication in Arabic, then

19 The traditional view of iconicity in language has been one which has considered the semantic association of phonemes and/or their combination. Multiple terms are used to define the association between sound and meaning: Sound Symbolism ( Jakobson and Waugh 1979), Phonoestheme, Phonosymbolism (Ryding 1995) mimophony (Bohas 2006) etc. Cross-language investigations have usually centred upon onomatopoeia, ideophones and vocalic associations of magnitude (Hinton, Nichols and Ohala 1994). However, phonemic iconicity is a contentious issue when argued within a generative ‘universalist’ approach (Bauer 1996). Studies examining phonemic iconicity in Arabic have proposed that it is highly developed and extends to magical and metaphysical levels (Ryding 1995). The current interpretation of iconicity is not restricted to sound-symbolism (Van Langendonck 2007), but also pertains to the elements in language whose form and structure mirrors that of its referents (Kouwenberg 1997). 20 A detailed examination of the semantic range of reduplicated forms in Arabic is given in Procházka (1995). 228 kirsty rowan antigemination indicates that there is a prohibition against the erosion of this morphological information.21 It follows that identifying the forms II and III as semantically unified in specifying plurality by the ‘reduplication’ of segments albeit consonant or vowels, then we are some way perhaps towards explaining antigemination effects which are evidenced with these forms. More specifically, the antigemination process is seen when these forms have a ‘reduplicated’ consonant in the ultimate and penultimate consonantal position i.e. the ‘doubled’ forms with affixation: CVCiCiVCi xaffif → [xaffifu] ‘they alleviated’ *[xaffu]; CVVCiVCi ħaajaj → [ħaajijat] ‘she argued’ *[ħaajjat].

Adjectival Antigemination

If the proposal that antigemination is evidenced due to maintaining the iconic status of ‘reduplicated’ segments (i.e. reduplication as an indicator of plurality) then it is expected that other lexical categories which are marked for plurality will also exhibit antigemination effects. This is indeed found in the adjectival forms which have identical final consonants (data from Majdi and Winston 1993):

(4) mitkarrir+a → [mitkarrira] *[mitkarra]/*[mitkara] ‘being repeated’ mitsammim+a → [mitsammima] *[mitsamma]/*[mitsama] ‘being poisoned’ mitfaakik+a → [mitfaakika] *[mitfaakka]/*[mitfaaka] ‘being untied’ mitlaaziz+a → [mitlaaziza] *[mitlaazza]/*[mitlaaza] ‘being touched’

It is seen that the Iraqi Arabic adjectival forms in (4) display antigemination effects. I extend the illicit forms of Majdi and Winston to also show forms not instanced whereby syncope would perhaps feed degemination. Crucially, the morphosemantic properties of these adjectival forms have to be investigated to see if they are involved in whether a form will exhibit antigemination or not. Again, the explanation cannot be found in homophony avoidance or in resistance to paradigm collapse when this same process is evident in adjectival forms. Even within the category of adjectives, there is a disparity as Blevins (2005: 213) notes. She cites Erwin

21 The investigation into grammaticalisation is of importance when addressing the dialectal variation in antigemination. Specifically, the prediction of the strong grammaticalisation hypothesis, full reduplication > partial reduplication (syllable reduplication > (syncope) gemination) is not evidenced in Arabic as geminated forms are argued to be older than other reduplicated forms (El Zarka 2005). antigemination as morphosemantic integrity 229

(1963) who attests that certain inflected adjectives whose final consonants are identical do exhibit syncope, but also that the syncope is optional: mitraaSiSa ~ mitraaSSa ‘crowded together (f.).’22 It is therefore possible that phonologists have been detailing a problem which is explicitly difficult to unify within any given theoretical framework without considering that morphosemantic categorisation is at work. Extending the issue of inconsistent antigemination outside of Arabic is also similarly revealing if the morphosemantic properties are considered. This is clearly shown in the Tonkawa data initially proposed by McCarthy (1986) as displaying OCP effects i.e. antigemination, and re-analysed by Blevins (2005) as resistance to paradigm collapse. The morphological status of the reduplicated segments which display antigemination are remarked on by Blevins, in that the reduplication in Tonkawa is “used to productively mark repetitive aspect as well as plural subject or object” (2005: 216). I claim that it is not the paradigm or the integrity of the morphosyntactic identity which is being protected but the morphosemantic. Fundamentally, this calls for a review of antigemination as isolated from the ‘semantic/pragmatic modules’ to echo Kenstowicz’s insight. Reviewing forms II and III, where antigemination occurs, it is clear to see the reduplication being protected by the absence of syncope (data from Blevins 2005: 213):

(5) jaddad ‘he renewed’ jaddidaw ‘they renewed’ (*jaddaw) ħaajaj ‘he argued’ ħaajijaw ‘they argued’ (*ħaajjaw)

This discussion has shown that the process of antigemination has not been unified previously; in the case of form II is it considered to be resistance to homophony or paradigm collapse whereas for form III it is believed to be dependent on the phonological structure. It is difficult to reconcile the antigemination process as having two different environments. Unless the similar morphosemantic identity of these verbal forms which is encoded by reduplication is considered, I believe we will be no nearer to understanding the irregularities in the application of antigemination. This leads me to revise Odden’s (1988: 469) statement that “it is also possible that the explanation (if not the formal representation) for antigemination [. . .] lies in phonetics” to the explanation being found in the morphosemantics instead.

22 Commenting briefly on this adjectival form, McCarthy (1986: 241) states that it is “difficult to know what to make of this variation.” 230 kirsty rowan

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Abu Ḏ̣ abi, 11 Arabian Peninsula, 23, 26, 120, 154, 174, 175, Active Participle (AP), 25, 28, 30, 33, 40, 51, 52 177, 185, 204 adhortatives, 130n67 Arabia Petraea, 15, 17 adjectives, 36, 63, 75, 90, 204, 228–29 Arabic, 26, 66, 70, 179, 199, 201, 218. See also ʿAdle, 152 dialects affixes, 24, 28, 46, 53 agreement patterns of, 66–68, 71 affricate/affrication, 59, 62, 94, 193, 196. See Algerian, 9, 12, 13 also variants Anatolian, 9, 110, 116 k / č / g / ǧ, 58, 60, 71, 93–94, 157, 204 Andalusian, 5, 8 -tš and -ts, 173 Egyptian, 7–9 agreement. See feminine form/agreement; Upper, 11 masculine form/agreement Gulf, 9 agriculture, 95, 155–56 Hijazi, 197 Aḥaywāt, 134, 136 Iraqi, 9, 10, 110, 219, 220, 221, 224, 225, 228 Akkadian, 227 Baghdadi/gilit, 178–79 (See also gilit) Aktionsart, 28 Levantine, 9 alʿArīš (al-Arish), 119–20, 133, 134, 145 Maghrebi, 6, 9 Al-ʿAyn/Buraimi, 93 Mesopotamian, 113 Āl Bū Shāmis, 89, 95 Moroccan, 9, 113 Algeria, 3, 7, 8, 8n19, 9, 16, 200 Jebli dialects, 200 alif, 180, 190, 192–193 urban, 109, 112, 114 dagger, 195 Najdi, 49 al-waṣl, 196 Negev, 75, 81–82 allomorphs, 71, 196, 198 Nigerian, 13 -č, 192 Omani, 9 (See also Mahriyōt; Mehreyyet; -k and -ki, 61, 62 Mehri) allophones, 158, 180, 187, 190, 194–95, 198, pre-diasporic, 200–201 207 Šarqiyya Arabic (ŠA), 23, 24, 27–30, alveolar, 186 32–36, 38, 39, 41, 43, 44, 46–50, 52 alveopalatal Sinai, 119–22, 124n25, 130n67, 140n87, region, 186, 188, 191 143n103 sounds, 187, 189 -speaking minority groups, 204 Āl Wahība. See Wahība / Āl Wahība Sudanic, 189n16 Amharic, 178, 187 Syrian, 9, 206 Amman, 56, 57, 63, 71 Tunisian, 13 dialect of, 61, 62, 64–65, 72 Yemeni, 3, 9 Anatolia, 113–15 Aramaic, 110. See also Syriac Andalusia, 192n20 Ma’lula, 178 animals, 68, 70, 156 Neo-, 187 antigemination, 215, 218–25, 228–29 Arbīl, 115 apodosis, 30, 39–40, 44–46, 51 Armenian, 55n2 ʿAqabah, 135n82 Arnold, Werner, 153 ʿAqabah, Gulf of, 119 articulation, 186. See also aqīṭūn / aqyṭwn, 6 pharyngealization; velarization Arabia, 58 of emphasis (ʾiṭbaaq), 182 central, 179 maxraj / muxraj, 182, 185 northeast, 206 Asad (tribes), 175 south, 89 aspect, 23–28, 31, 46–47 234 index

continuous, 35, 36, 48 Brockett, Adrian, 88 ingressive, 34–36 Brustad, Kristen, 66, 67, 71 assimilation, 180 auxiliaries, 46 č, 55, 57, 58–62, 65, 71, 89, 93–94, 156n23, Awlād ʿAli, 4n8, 8, 15, 16 157–58, 173–74, 177–79, 181, 184–86, 189, ʿazaba, 3, 8, 12 191–201, 204. See also tš ʿAzāzmih (tribe), 77 *č, 174, 178, 200–201. See also tš Āzǝx, 110–11 Cantineau, Jean, 56, 151, 152, 154, 155–57, az-Ziyāra (Tk. Yalnızca), 207, 208 177–78, 181, 185n11, 190–91, 199 Carter, Michael, 199 baa⁠ʾ (bāʾ) / faa⁠ʾ (fāʾ), 181–83, 190, 192n19 Chad, 13–14 Baerman, Matthew, 224n15 Chechen, 55n2 Baggāṛa (of Jabal ʿAbd al-ʿAziz), 153 Circassian, 55n2 Baghdadi (Arabic), 179. See also dialects Classical Arabic (CA), 12, 13, 23, 24–27, 92, (Arabic) 93, 94, 187, 201n29 Baḥārna (of Bahrain, eastern Saudi Arabia), Cleveland, Ray, 55, 56 87–89, 94n9 code-switching, 205 Bahrain, 87, 88, 94n9, 106 Codrai, Ronald, 105 Bakalla, 181 Cohen, Marcel, 152 Balqa region, 57 cohortatives, 28, 31, 37–38, 40, 43. See also Bani Ṣaxar, 57 adhortative Bani-Yasin, Raslan, 57, 70–71 Comrie, Bernard, 24, 25, 26, 34 Bardawīl Lagoon, 119 conatives, 217, 226 Barth, Johan, 173, 177 concord. See feminine form/agreement; Basra, 105 masculine form/agreement Bat-El, Outi, 222n11 conditionals, 26, 30–31, 39, 40, 43, 44–46, Bāṭina, 88, 105 51–52, 53 bayna (between), 180, 183, 191 ʾin kāna, 116 bayt, 2–3, 7 conjunctions, 116, 205–6 aš-šaʿar, 4, 14 consonants, 158, 176–77, 181, 182, 195–96, aš-šaʿr, 5, 8, 9 215–16, 218–19, 220, 222, 224, 227, 228–29 bēt, bīt, 4 context (waṣl), 176, 197 Bayyāḏ̣iyyah, 120 continuous Bduul (of Petra), 57 marker, 30, 48, 114 Bedouin, 9, 56, 87, 119, 135, 189n15, 204 state, 52 Egyptian, 2, 16 creaky voice, 28n3 Euphrates, 203 Cushitic, 226 North Arabian, 15 Cyrenaica, 4 in Sinai, 123 Syrian, 16 *d, 196 Beene, Wayne, 154 *d, 157 Beeston, Frederick, 185n11 *ḍ, 140n87, 157 Behnstedt, Peter, 152, 153, 155, 156n21, 199 *ḏ̣, 140n87, 157 Beirut, 62–63 ḏ̣āʾ, 24 Benmamoun, Elabbas, 225, 226 ḍaad (ḍād), 24, 181, 185n11, 188 Berber, 5–6 Dahlgren, Sven-Olof, 26 Bergsträsser, Gotthelf, 56 Dakhla Oasis, Egypt, 1 bēt / bēt šaʿar, 3, 17. See also bayt Dalman, Gustaf, 17 Bettini, Lidia, 75, 153, 154 Damascus, 56, 57 bilabial (al-šafataan), 183 Daniels, Peter, 185n11 Biqāʿ, 13 Danks, Warwick, 216, 217, 226 Blanc, Haim, 119, 154 dār, 3, 12 Blevins, Juliette, 222–23, 228, 229 Dawāġrah, 119, 120 Bohas, Georges, 222n11 de Alcalá, Pedro, 5 index 235 degemination, 220, 223. See also gemination Sinai Bedouin, 119–22, 124n25, 130n67, de Jong, Rudolf, 119, 121, 154 140n87, 143n103 depalatalisation, 55 Sudanese, 121 Dēr ez-Zōr / Dēr iz-Zōr, 151, 152, 155n14, Ṣūr, 88–89, 95, 106 156–57 Syrian, 66 Dhofar, 27 Sukhne, 200 dialects (Arabic), 15, 23, 48, 49, 67, 71, 81, 92, Taṛābīn / Tuṛbāniy, 122, 127n38, 132–34 151, 154n11, 157n27, 192, 206–7, 215, 219, of Nwēbiʿ (Nuweiba), 119, 121, 122n16, 222–24. See also Arabic 124, 125n31, 128n44, 129n51, 130n67 of ʿAqra, 115 of Ṛās Ṣadr, 122n16, 124, 125n31, 127n41, of Arabia 128n47, 129n50, 129n51, 130n62, central, 90, 91 130n67 eastern, 58 urban, 9, 55–56, 57, 119 north, 59, 62 Yemeni, 30, 37, 197n24 northeastern, 205 dialogue, 78 northwest, 119–20 Diem, Werner, 110 Baḥārna (of Bahrain, eastern Saudi diminutives, 76–78, 81, 84 Arabia), 87–89, 94n9 discourse, 69, 75–77, 78–79, 82, 83–84, 197 Bedouin, 1, 2, 23, 26, 27, 57, 59, 87, 88, 93, Doha, 105 106, 119, 120, 152, 154, 156, 157, 203, 204 doubled pattern, 216, 219–21, 223–24, 228 Eastern, 205 Dubai, 105–6 Gulf, 95 Duhūs, 1 Omani, 93–95 Durūʿ (Omani tribe), 87, 95 Syrian, 153 Duwwār əl-Maʿābda, 3, 16, 17 Berber, 3n6 dz, 178–79, 195. See also *g Egyptian, 30, 66 dž, 178–79, 186–87, 189–90, 195. See also *c; Gulf, 66, 87, 89, 90, 91, 93, 106, 179 *č; *g Ḥassāniyya, 2, 5n12, 6, 7, 12 *dž, 178. See also *č Ḥōrāni, 56 Iraqi, 111–12, 154n11 Eades, Domenyk, 27 Jordanian, 55–57, 64, 70 East Africa, 95, 105 of Amman, 61 Egypt, 1, 3, 5, 10, 11, 15, 16, 133 Salti, 67, 69, 71, 72 Delta, 199 of Kinderib (Anatolia), 112 dialects of, 30 Levantine, 55, 57, 59, 61–63, 200 Eastern Desert, 120 Mḥallami, 115–16 Sinai, 120 mixed, 88, 105 Western, 8 modern, 24, 25, 26, 30, 87, 109, 113–14, 116, Eisele, John, 25 173–74, 177, 184, 189 elegizing, 79 Moroccan, 66 El Zarka, Dina, 224 Najdi / Nağdi, 23, 27, 119–20, 154n11, 177 emotionality (in language), 76–79, 83 Negev Bedouin, 121 English, 24 Negev Tiyāha confederation, 83 epenthesis. See vowels non-native, 82 Erwin, Wallace, 219, 228 North African, 109n1 Ethiopian Semitic, 178 Northwest Bedouin type (Sinai), 119–21 etymology, 5, 9, 12, 16, 109–10, 112, 190–91, Omani, 28, 29, 87–92, 98n27 205 sedentary, 93–95, 106 European languages, 24 Palestinian, 55–56, 62, 64 Evolutionary Phonology (approach), 222 rural, 64, 178 exclamations (of grief), 76–80, 83 Rwala, 2 Šāwi (of the Šawāya), 152–57, 203, 205–6, faa⁠ʾ (fāʾ) / baa⁠ʾ (bāʾ), 181–83, 190, 192n19 209n27 Fassi Fehri, Abdelkader, 225, 226 sedentary, 57, 87, 94, 119, 157 Feilberg, C.G., 2, 11 236 index feminine form/agreement, 30, 61–62, Harari, 178 66–68, 69–72, 109 Ḥarb, 12 Fezzan, 7, 15, 16 ḥarf, 181, 184 Fleischer, H., 5 Harran, 203–4, 209 Fraenkel, Siegmund, 5n11 Harran, Plain of, 207 French, 6 Harran-Urfa Arabic, 205–7, 209n29 fricative, 24, 184–85 Harrell, Richard, 112 rixwa, 182, 183 Ḥassāniyya (dialect), 2, 5n12, 6, 7, 12 future, 33, 36, 41, 50–51 Ḥawf, 27 b- prefix, 33, 39, 44 Heath, Jeffrey, 200, 201n29 tə- prefix, 116 Hebrew, 17, 26 Hebron, 56 g, 7, 9, 55–56, 57, 58n8, 65, 93–94, 96n20, Henkin, Roni, 75, 77 120, 125n32, 156n23, 157–58, 174n1, 179, Herin, Bruno, 55, 57 181–84, 189n15, 199, 204. See also -q; *q Ḥiǧāz, 12, 120 ǧ (ǧīm), 157. See also *j Hît, 156 *g, 178 Holes, Clive, 23, 26, 154, 178–79, 199–200, ġ, 120n2, 204 216–17 *ġ, 157. See also g homophony avoidance, 215, 220–22, Gafos, Andamantios, 217n4, 222n12 224–25, 228–29 Gafos, Diamandis, 224 Ḥōrān, 56 gahawa-syndrome, 157, 204 dialects of, 57, 155 gayṭan / gayṭūn / gyāṭn. See gēṭōn hortative. See adhortatives; cohortatives geminate human/animate (groups), 67, 69, 72, 116 consonants, 215, 227 ḥurūf. See ḥuruwf creation, 221 ḥuruwf, 176, 180 gemination, 224, 227 Ḥwēṭāt, 57 gender distinction, 29, 57, 58, 59, 61, 62, 63, 64–65, 66, 67 iconicity, 227 gēṭōn / gīṭūn / gayṭōn, 1, 4, 5, 7–9 imala, 180, 190, 192–94 al-Ghaydha, Yemen, 28 imperatives, 37, 83, 122, 130n67, 142n98, gilit (dialects), 153–54, 177. See also dialects 143n102 Iraqi, 154, 205–6 imperfective, 24–25, 42, 44, 55, 63, 226 ǧīm. See *j; jiym (jīm) indicative, 30–31, 47–48, 50, 58 glottalisation, 126n33 marker b-, 56–57 glottal stop, 28n3, 81n5, 99n36 individuation, 66, 67, 68–69, 70–72 grammar, 27, 61, 71, 174, 192n20, 199, 200 inflections/inflectional, 24, 29, 30–31, 32, 34, Arabic grammars, 25, 217 36, 40, 59 generative, 222 category/forms, 25, 28, 62–63, 66, 71, 72, of Iraqi Arabic, 219 217, 219 grammarians, 198, 227 prefix, 111 grammaticalization, 47, 49, 109, 113, 227, Ingham, Bruce, 1, 12, 14, 15–16, 23, 26, 27, 49, 228n21 117, 154, 175n2, 203, 204, 205, 206 Greek, 5, 187 ingressive aspect/meaning, 31, 34–35, 52 Greenberg, Joseph, 225 interdentals, 57, 65, 94, 127n38, 157 greetings, 38, 43 invocations, 38, 43 Gulf Co-Operation Council, 106 Iran, 199 Gurage, 178 Iraq, 110, 154, 203 Central and Southern, 113 habitual, 41, 45, 49–51, 112 Northern, 113, 114, 115 meanings, 42 irrealis, 30, 39, 44, 51, 116. See also ḥaḍar (‘sedentary’), 87 conditionals; future ḥaǧīra / ḥeǧra, 10, 12 isoglosses, 1, 120 Haifa, 56 iterative/iterativity, 41, 79, 81, 216 index 237 j, 184–85, 188 Landberg, Carlo de, 89, 154 j, 185n11, 186–87, 189. See also k language(s) *j, 28n3, 57. See also jiym (jīm) of Arabic-speaking minorities, 203, 204 Jabal Nafousa, 7 history, Arabic, 177, 201 Jabal Shams, 94 minority, 55 Jaffa, 56 l-Bu Kmāl / El-bu Kemâl, 151, 155n14, 156–57 Jaʿlān, 88 learnability, 222 Jastrow, Otto, 110, 115, 152, 157 Lebanon, 11, 192n20 Jaussen, A., 10 ʿLēgāt, 119, 121, 140 Jbala tribes (Morocco), 3 ʿLēgiy text, 122 Jerusalem, 56 Levant, 30, 56, 58–59, 174, 185, 200 Jews, of Tripoli, 7 dialects, 55, 57 Jijel (Djidjelli), 199 Libya, 4n8, 7, 15, 16, 192n20 jiym (jīm), 180–82, 184–85, 188–89, 191, 193. Ligrayye, 152 See also g; *g; ǧ; *ġ linguistics, 174, 176, 198, 199 and kaaf, 174n1, 181, 183–84, 190–91, 199 theory, 173, 198, 218 and shiyn, 180–81, 184–85, 192, 193 Lipiński, Edward, 226 Johnstone, T. M., 11, 33n5, 154, 173, 178, 179, literacy, 76 195 loanwords, 182n8, 184, 190, 192n19, 199, 207 Jordan, 56, 57, 120, 177 dialects of, 64, 178 Maʿāza, 15 Jordan River, 56 Mādabā, Jordan, 10 Maghreb, 3, 8–10, 16, 116–17 k, 55, 57–62, 65, 71, 93–94, 110–11, 156–58, mahmuws, 176, 182–83 175–76, 179, 184, 188–90, 192, 194–97, 200, Mahriyōt, 27–29, 28, 36, 46, 50–52. See also 204. See also kaaf (kāf) Mehri *k, 57, 58–59, 174, 178–79, 197, 199–201 Majdi, Basim, 219, 220, 228 kaaf (kāf), 181, 185, 189, 191, 200. See also k majhuwr, 182–83, 185, 190n18 and jiym (jīm, ǧ / ǧīm), 181–84, 189n15, Mali, 2 190–91, 199 Maltese, 192n20 Kabylic, 5 Manama, 105 Kabylie, Arabs in, 199 Marāzīg, 7, 13 kaïtûn / gaïtûn. See gēṭōn Mardin, 114 Karak, 57 masculine form/agreement, 29, 30, 61–62, kaškaša and kaskasa, 178, 197n24. See also 63, 66, 67, 70, 84 variants Mauritania, 2, 6, 7, 13, 15, 16 Kbwêse, 156 Mayādīn / Mayadin (l-Miyāḏīn), 151–53, Kenstowicz, Michael, 222, 229 156–57 Khābūra, 88 dialect of, 151, 155, 157 Khawētna, 154 McCarthy, John, 218, 219, 223, 225, 229 Khorasan, 174, 200 media, 204 Arabic, 199 Mehreyyet, 27–30, 36, 50–52 Khuzestan, 154 Mehri, 23–24, 27–29, 32–38, 40–48, 50–52 Kinderib (Anatolia), 112, 114–15 Omani, 29–30, 34, 46, 50 kinship vocatives, 82 Yemeni, 27, 29–30, 36, 44, 46, 50 Kouwenberg, N.J.C., 218, 227 men’s speech/language, 76, 79 Kurdish, 187 conversational discourse, 82, 84 Kurds, 13, 204 of Negev Bedouin texts, 78 Kurpershoek, P. Marcel, 154 Mesopotamia, 13, 117, 153, 192n20. See also Kuwait, 87, 105, 154 dialects; gilit Arabic dialect area, 110, 203 laam (lām), 188 metaphor, 16 labio-dental, 183 metonomy, 16 Lakoff, R., 75 Middle Euphrates valley, 152, 156 238 index

Middle Persian, 184, 187, 193 Obligatory Contour Principle (OCP), 215, Modern South Arabian language (MSAL), 218, 220, 222, 224–25 23, 27, 30, 226 O’Connor, Michael Patrick, 38 Modern Standard Arabic (MSA), 2, 125n30, Odden, David, 224n15, 229 141n91, 206, 216, 220n10, 227 Old Arabic (OA), 109–10, 112–14, 116, 184, Mombasa, 95 206 mood(s), 23, 30, 31, 38, 40, 43, 46, 47–48, Oman, 11, 12, 23, 47, 88–90, 92, 95, 105, 106, 50–52, 58 177n3, 178 Moore, John, 220n10 dialects of, 29, 88, 91, 92, 98n27 (See also Morocco, 4, 11, 113, 200 Mehri) North-eastern, 15 northern, 27, 87 Northern, 3 tribes, Durūʿ, 87 Northwest, 16 optatives, 26, 38, 40, 43, 52–53 Rif Berber, 5 Optimality Theory framework, 221 Western, 16 oral narrative, 75, 78, 83 morphemes, 109, 112, 177, 194, 195, 197, 216, Oran, 15, 16 225 orthography, 179, 195–96 morphology, 62, 120, 122, 156, 157, 179, 215, Ottoman-Turkish, 11 221 Owens, Jonathan, 13, 57, 70, 71, 200 structure of, 28 morphophonemes, 194, 198 *p, 182n8. See also baa⁠ʾ (bāʾ) / faa⁠ʾ (fāʾ) morphophonology, 94, 180 palatalisation, 94, 180, 199 morphosemantic (categories), 218, 228–29 palatal region, 186–89 morpho-syntactic (peculiarities), 89, 91, sound, 191 226, 229 Palestine, 10, 11, 13, 17, 56 Mosul, 113 northern, dialects of, 62 Mu’ab (Kerak), Jordan, 57 rural dialects, 64, 177, 178 Muir, J., 11 Palva, Heikki, 55, 56, 57, 119, 154 Müller-Kessler, Christa, 110 Paradigmatic Contrast Constraint, 222 Musandam peninsula, 96n20 particles, 24, 28, 46, 53, 58, 78, 81, 83, 91 Muscat, 88 aku, ak-, k or lyk (‘there is’), 110 Mzēnih, 119, 121–22 āśạm, 50 bār, 33, 46, 47 Nablus, 56 conditional, 39–40, 116 Najd / Nağd, 27, 90, 120 ḏa-, 37, 48 narrative text/discourse, 32, 47, 75, 77, 78, -ə, 89 83–84, 204 fōna, 50 Negev, 3, 4, 10, 12, 15, 120, 192n20 hayyi, 38, 43 Arabic, 75, 81–82 iḏā, in, lō, 39 men, 80, 83 kāyǝn (‘there isʼ), 109 ʿNēz Aḅuw Sālim Swēlim alʿUrḏ̣iy, 121, ṣā-, 91 133n78, 136 zād (‘also’), 205 Nigeria, 3 passive, 59, 90 Nile Delta (Sharqiyya), 174 pause (waqf), 176, 197 Nixl, 135, 137 perfective, 24–25, 31, 34, 42, 53, 63 nomadic (populations), 55, 56 past, 114–15 non-Arabic speaking groups, 55 performative(s), 38, 53, 83–84 non-human / inanimate (plurals), 66, Persian, 11, 12, 183, 187, 189n15, 190, 192n19, 68–70, 72, 117 195, 199 non-native (Arabic speakers), 82, 193 sounds, 182, 193 North Africa, 5, 174, 185, 200 Persian Gulf, 105, 106, 154, 174, 177, 178, 179 NWA (Northwestern Arabic), 119–121 pharyngealization, 28n3, 176. See also Nwēbiʿ, 133n75. See also Taṛābīn articulation; velarization index 239

Phoenecian, 17 Qatar, 87 phonemes, 71, 158, 174, 180, 185, 194, 196, 199, qayṭūn, 8. See also gēṭōn 207, 227n19 qəltu (dialect), 110, 154, 156n21, 157n27, phonetics, 156, 178–87, 190–91, 229 192n20. See also dialects; gilit phonology, 28, 157, 179, 180, 191–93, 195, Qōran (official Turkish name Uzunyol), 217n4, 218–19, 221, 229 208 Piamenta, Moshe, 154 Qur’an (recitation), 180–81 pluperfect, 34, 50 Quṣayr—Qufṭ (line), 121 plurality, 225–28 poetry, 90, 180–81, 204 Rackow, Ernst, 2, 14, 16 prefixes Al-Raḥba, 151, 155 b-, 33, 50, 57 Rašāyda Bedouin, 1, 12 ḏa-, 35, 36, 42, 45 Ṛās Ṣadr, 121, 122n15, 124, 125n31, 127n41, ka-, 47, 114 128n47, 129n50, 129n51, 130n62. See also kū- / kūt- / kāt, 115 Taṛābīn p-stem (= prefix stem), 28, 30–31, 35–36, reciprocity, 226 38, 41–42, 44–46, 48–52 Red Sea, 120 qa- or da-, 113 reduplication, 215, 224–25, 227–29 tə-, 116 reflexes, 140n87, 141n91, 174n1, 177–79, prepositions, 61n12, 111, 121, 124n24, 127n37, 182n8, 206 129n50, 205–6 č / k, 89, 174, 199–200 bi- and fī (‘in’), 111 ǧ, 57, 94 present (time), 24, 25, 26, 28, 32–34, 41–42, ʾillā (‘except’), 206 44, 206 q, 55–56, 93, 120 tense marker, 110, 112, 115, 207n15 qad, 47 bi-, 113 yakūn, 111 kā- and kū-, 47, 111–13, 114n5 repetition, 76, 82, 226 Procházka, Stephan, 153, 206 resistance (to paradigm collapse), 215, pronouns, 62, 65–66, 71, 89, 90, 94, 173, 175 228–29 -ak vs. -ič, 58, 61 reversed kin terms, 81, 82 bound plural, 62–64 rhymes, 80 bu (as relative pronoun), 91 roots, 59–60, 158, 206, 215–16, 218–20, 226 -čin vs. -kin, 65 Rose, Sharon, 220, 221, 224 dual number, 23, 29 Rosenhouse, J., 75, 154 ḥada, 67n19 Rubaṭāb (in Sudan), 13 -hin, 68 Rumâdi, 156 -hum, 64n15, 70 Rwala, 2, 10, 14 -(h)un, 63 Ryding, Karin, 217 interrogative, 116–17 -ku, 63–64 *š, 158. See also shiyn (šīn) -kum, 63–64 ṣaad (ṣād) -kun, 63 like siyn, 181, 190 mad-, 51–52 like zaa⁠ʾ, 180–81, 184 protasis, 39–40, 44–46. See also šadiyd / shadiyd (shadīd), 182, 183, 185, 189 conditionals Sāhel-Bedouin (in Oman), 11 p-stem (= prefix stem). See prefixes Salt, Jordan, 55, 57, 62 Puigaudeau, Odette de, 7 dialect of, 55–56, 63, 66–67, 69–71 Šammari dialect, 206 q (qāf), 56, 93, 156–58, 182n7, 204. See also Şanlıurfa, 203 g; k Sarābīṭ alXādim, 119, 121, 140 *q, 55–56, 57, 120, 125n32, 157, 178n5. Šarqiyya Arabic (ŠA), 23, 24, 27–30, 32–36, See also g; k 38, 39, 41, 43, 44, 46–50, 52 Qalhāt, 88, 106 saturated environments, 76, 79, 83 240 index

Saudi Arabia, 1, 9–10, 12, 13, 14, 27, 179 -(i)š, 89 eastern, 89 -ši, -kiš, -kis, -ki, 174–75, 201 Sawārkah, 120, 134 s-stem (=suffix stem), 25–26, 28–29, Šāwi (Bedouin), 153 31–40, 42–45, 47–48, 50, 52–53 dialects (of the Šawāya), 152–57, 203, -u (-ū) or -o (-ō), 95 205–6, 209n27 Ṣuḥār, 105 Schaade, A., 177, 181 Ṣūr, 105 sedentary, 56–57, 156. See also ḥaḍar dialect, 88–89, 95, 106 Seeger, Ulrich, 199 Swērkiy (Sawārkah tribe), 134–35 semantics, 24, 217–18, 225 syncope, 215, 220–21, 223, 228–29 Semitic, 227 syntactic languages, 17, 25, 28, 38, 52, 178, 218, 223 context, 28, 39, 44, 90 root(s), 216, 222n11 functions, 109, 117 verbal system of, 23, 218 Syria, 3, 10, 11, 152, 154, 177, 192n20, 203 Sharqiyya (of Egyptian Delta), 199–200 central, 178 Shīʿa, 88 Eastern, 8 shiyn (šīn), 180, 185, 188n14, 189 Greater, 113 and jiym, 180–81, 184–85, 188, 192–93 Northeastern, 117 Sibawaih, 178–80, 182–88, 190–91, 194, Syriac, 5. See also Aramaic 196–98, 200–201 and proscribed sounds, 173–74, 181, 189, *t, 141n91, 157 192–93, 199 *tā, 45, 196 sibilants, 24 taa⁠ʾ (tāʾ), 30, 92, 113, 181, 190n18 Siirt, 114–15 ṭaa⁠ʾ (ṭāʾ), 92, 181, 190n18 Sima, Alexander, 28 Takroûna, 7 Simeone-Senelle, Marie-Claude, 33n5 Talay, 154 Sinai, 15, 119–21, 123 Tall Abyaḍ (Tk. Akçakale), 203 siyn (sīn), 181, 190 Tall alʿAbd, 152 sociolinguistics, 56, 174, 192n20, 201 Tall Nāṣir (Tk. Sorallı), 210 Soqoṭri, 50 Tamazight, 5 sound(s), 180–81, 184–86, 188–89, 191, Tamimi (tribes), 175 192–93, 196 tanwīn, 90, 204–5 ḥarf, 181 Taṛābīn / Tuṛbāniy (dialects), 122, 127n38, palatal, 187, 189, 191 132–34 Persian, 182, 193 of Nwēbiʿ (Nuweiba), 119, 121, 122n16, 124, proscribed, 173–74, 181, 189, 192–93, 199 125n31, 128n44, 129n51, 130n67 ṣawt, 182 of Ṛās Ṣadr, 122n16, 124, 125n31, 127n41, voiced (majhuwr), 182–83, 185, 190n18 128n47, 129n50, 129n51, 130n62, voiceless (mahmuws), 176, 182–83 130n67 South Arabian languages, 178 Ṭawara, 134 speech, 27, 32, 34, 38, 58, 60, 62, 67n19, 69, Tayāha, 136 71–72, 78, 79–80, 94, 106, 121, 130n67, 192, tense, 24, 25, 27, 28, 31, 46, 51, 53 196–98. See also women markers, 26, 49, 111–13, 115 s-stem (= suffix stem). See suffixes tent (terminology), 2, 8, 10, 12, 15–17 stop (šadiyd / shadiyd), 182, 183, 185, 189 bedouin, 3–7, 8n19 subjunctive, 30–31, 36–38, 43, 51–52 Berber, 3n5 Sudan, 1, 11, 13 Tīh Plateau, 119, 120, 135n82 Suez, Gulf of, 119, 121 Timbouctou, 13 suffixes, 30, 50, 52, 61, 82, 89, 122, 173, 177, Tlemcen, 199–200 219, 220, 223 topography, 88 -a(h), 94 transcription, 119, 122, 157–58, 203, 207 -či, 193 transitivity, 226 k, č, 176, 197 Transjordan, 56, 57 index 241 ts, 173–74, 178–79, 181, 184, 189, 191, 193, Vicente, Ángeles, 200 194–95, 198, 199, 201 vocabulary, 1, 15, 205, 207 tš, 173, 179, 187, 194–95, 198. See also č vocatives, 78, 81, 82–83 Tunisia, 7, 8n19, 12 vowels, 57, 195 Tuṛbāniy. See Taṛābīn anaptyctic, 122, 125n32. See also Turkey, 192n20, 204 epenthesis southeastern, 153 elision, 125n32 Turkish, 14, 55n2, 205, 207 epenthesis, 219. See also anaptyctic Turkomans, 13 lengthened, in verbs, 216, 226–27 length/lengthening, 57, 61, 109n1, 122, UAE, 88, 89–91, 178 129n53, 140n88, 157, 175, 215–16, 224, UCLA Phonological Segment Inventory 226–27 Database (UPSID), 186 long, 29, 57, 157, 175 Ugaritic, 17 reduplication of, 215, 224–25, 227–29 Urfa, Turkey, 153, 203, 204, 208 short, 57, 158, 176 syncope, 218–19 variants Vycichl, Werner, 6 -č, 173, 174, 189, 194, 196 ǧ allophone of g, 158 Wādī d-Dawāsir, 13 kashkasha (kaškaša) and kaskasa, 176, Wahība / Āl Wahība, 89, 93, 94n8, 95 177, 190, 191, 200 Waltke, Bruce, 38 -ki and -ši, 179 waqf (pause), 176, 197 -kis and -kiš, 173–177, 179, 193, 195, 201 waṣl (context), 176, 197 proscribed, 174, 191–93, 201 Watson, Janet, 27, 28, 177, 185n11, 197n24 -tš and -ts, 173, 179, 189 West Bank, 56 -ž, -dž, -j, 189 Western Sahara, 2, 6, 7 velar Winston, Millicent, 219, 220, 228 k, 71, 93–94 Woidich, Manfred, 199 plosives, 27n2, 28n3, 183 women region, 188 Bedouin, narrative styles, 75–76 velarization, 122, 124, 126n35, 130n65. See speech/language of, 75–76, 78–79, 81–84 also articulation; pharyngealization Woodhead, D.R., 154 velarized, 78n4, 120n2, 124, 129n54 verbal system, 23, 25–27, 28, 52–53, 218 xayma / xeyme / xeema / xēma, 2, 3, 6–8, verb(s), 32, 33, 37, 92, 206, 215–17, 226–27 12, 16 of emotion and cognition, 26 xidr / xidra / xudra, 12–13, 17 gemination in, 224 kān / kāna / yakūnu (to be), 47, 49, 60, yaa⁠ʾ (yāʾ), 185 109, 111, 112–14, 115, 116, 117 Yemen, 12, 17, 27, 30, 110, 177, 178 k- in kīkū, 111 dialects of, 30, 37 reduplication in, 215, 224–25, 227–29 south, 88, 89–90, 95, 105 of vocal production, 79 of volition, 44, 46 Zanzibar, 95 verbum existentiae, 109, 111, 113 Zawaida, 57 Vernet, Eulàlia, 215 Zouara, Libya, 6