carve your good words in stone, the bad in snow
The world goes round, and at innumerable different times, the day begins. Down in the Antipodes, the Tiwi people of northern Australia describe the sequence before the sun finally appears:
arawunga early morning before dawn
tokwampari early morning when birds sing
yartijumurTa darkness before daylight
wujakari first light before sunrise
The Hungarians have a specific word – hajnalpir – for the first blush of dawn; the Japanese distinguish ariake, dawn when the moon is still showing; while the German word Morgengrauen (literally, morning greying) describes both the horror of the morning and its grey and sunless colour.
In the Dakota language of the USA, the moon is hangyetuwi, the night-sun. Come dawn it can no longer compete with anpetuwi, the day-sun:
glukocharazo (Greek) to glow in the dawn light
tavanam (Tamil) the heat of the sun
amaśtenaptapta (Dakota, USA) the glimmering of vapour in the sun’s heat
greigh (Gaelic) the uncommon heat of the sun after bursting out from behind a cloud
Ah, that famous topic, food for hundreds of thousands of conversations every day. And we are not alone in observing and describing its many moods:
pestpokkenweer (Dutch) dirty rotten weather
dul’avā (Virdainas, Baltics) fog with drizzle
cilala (Bemba, Zambia) the dry spell in a rainy season
boule (Scots) a gap, break; an opening in the clouds betokening fine weather
Postkartenwetter (German) the kind of weather that is too wonderful to be real (literally, postcard weather)
The secondary meanings of weather terms are often very evocative of the climate they describe. For instance, the Scots description of heat haze – summer-flaws – is also used for a swarm of gnats dancing in the air; while the Yamana of Chile unda-tu also describes the wavy appearance of the air seen over a fire.
Beautifully still conditions never last for long, certainly not in this country:
pew (Scots) the least breath of wind or smoke; the least ripple on the sea
sivisivivi (Mailu, Papua New Guinea) marks on water of a coming wind
kacee (Tsonga, South Africa) to feel a breeze or smell coming towards one
fuaradh-froik (Gaelic) the breeze preceding a shower
dim (Bosnian) smoke
estate (Italian) summer
lung (Sherpa, Nepal) air
santa (Bosnian) iceberg
tall (Arabic) hill, elevation
We can always sense that moment when things are on the turn:
oi (Vietnamese) to be sultry, muggy, hot and sticky
tvankas (Virdainas, Baltics) stuffy air
bingo (Chewa, South East Africa) the distant roll of thunder
gwangalakwahla (Tsonga, South Africa) a thunderclap is very near
kixansiksuya (Dakota, USA) to know by one’s feelings that unpleasant weather is due
After the storm, the rain is lighter, subtler; indeed, it may not be clear quite what’s going on:
tmoq yungay (Aboriginal Tayal, Taiwan) a light rain (literally, monkey piss)
fa-fa-fa (Tsonga, South Africa) to fall in a shower of drops
mvula-tshikole (Venda, South Africa) rain with sunshine
ördög veri a feleségét (Hungarian) the devil is hitting his wife (usually said when the sun is shining but rain is falling at the same time)
bijregenboog (Dutch) a secondary rainbow
Down on the ground, everything changes:
douh (Somali) a dry watercourse which turns into a fast-moving stream after every downpour
calalalala(Tsonga, South Africa) to come down, as a river in a flood; a glitter (of a large expanse of water or an army with polished weapons)
túvánam (Tamil) rain driven by the wind through the doors or windows
zolilinga (Luvale, Zambia) the watermark made by rain (as on a wooden door)
And all kinds of fun can be had:
edtimbulan (Maguindanaon, Philippines) to walk in the rain
wadlopen (Dutch) to walk sloshing through seamud
chokok (Malay) to splash water in fun
dynke (Norwegian) the act of dunking somebody’s face in snow
kram snø (Norwegian) snow which is sticky (excellent for making snowballs and snowmen)
Several places in Norway and Sweden are simply called ä. It means river in various Scandanavian languages, but that’s all the name tells us about them. But if you go for something rather longer, an awful lot of information can be contained in a name. For instance, Webster Lake in Massachussetts, USA, is also known as
Chargoggagoggmanchauggauggagoggchaubunagunga-maugg
which was a native word for a neutral fishing place near a boundary, a meeting and fishing spot shared by several tribes. A popular interpretation is: ‘You fish on your side, I fish on my side, nobody fishes in the middle.’ The longest placename still in regular use is for a hill in New Zealand. The ninety-letter Maori name
Taumatawhakatangihangakoauaotamateaurehaeaturi-pukapihimaungahoronukupokaiwhenuaakitana-rahu
means ‘The brow of the hill where Tamatea, the man with the big knees, who slid, climbed and ate mountains, the great traveller, sat and played on the flute to his beloved.’
The sun features strongly in how other cultures have described the compass points. The Mingo of the USA describe north as te’kææhkwææhkö, the sun isn’t there; and west as hekææhkwë’s, the sun habitually drops down over there. The Bambara people of Mali have more complicated associations:
EAST is the colour white; the land of the dead and of wild and domestic animals.
WEST is the land of the ‘sunset people’ and of birds; thesource of custom and of all goodness and loveliness.
NORTH is identified with the seventh heaven, a far distant country, the dwelling of the great god Faro, who created the world in all its present form; the north is the home of all water creatures – fish, crocodiles and frogs.
SOUTH is peopled by plants and the evil beings whom Faro was forced to destroy at the beginning of time, because they had stolen speech from him; the home of pollution.
Rain or shine, windy or still, the sun sinks down towards the horizon, and the day winds towards its close:
tainunu (Gilbertese, Oceania) the time when shadows lengthen in the late afternoon
pakupaku (Rapanui, Easter Island) to come down in a straight line like the rays of the sun
sig (Sumerian, Mesopotamia) the colour of the low setting sun (reddish-yellow or gold)
iltarusko (Finnish) sunset glow
ahiahi-ata (Rapanui, Easter Island) the last moments of light before nightfall
Darkness falls, and the night-sun reappears, bringing with it mystery and magic:
jyόtsnā (Sanskrit) a moonlight night
yakmoez (Turkish) the effect of moonlight sparkling on water
kuunsilta (Finnish) the long reflection of the moon when it is low in the sky and shining on the calm surface of a lake (literally, moon bridge)
hasi istitta-ammi (Alabama, USA) to bathe one’s face in the moon, wash the face four times in moonlight
ou vrouens met knopkieries reen (Afrikaans) it’s raining old women with clubs
padají trakaře (Czech) it’s raining wheelbarrows
det regner skomagerdrenge (Danish) it’s raining shoemak- ers’ apprentices
het regent pijpenstelen (Dutch) it’s raining pipestems baron mesleh dobeh asb mirized (Persian) it’s raining like the tail of the horse
brékhei kareklopόdara (Greek) it’s raining chair legs
il pleut comme vache qui pisse (French) it’s raining like a pissing cow
es regnet Schusterbuben (German) it’s raining young cobblers
estan lloviendo hasta maridos (Spanish) it’s even raining husbands