Mauritanian minority languages of the southern Hodh

Mauritania has a few mythic languages, including Imraguen, used by a coastal fishing group which used dolphins to fish. This you tube video claims to tell the story of how they fish: "With ancient rituals, they call to the dolphins by simulating the sound of leaping fish slapping the water. Finally the dolphins come, driving the mullet before them. Perhaps the dolphins are using the fishermen to gather a feast for themselves, in a spectacular display of interspecies cooperation."
Unfortunately, the Imraguen people only speak normal Hassaniya, though with a purported Azer influence, which has not been confirmed.
Another phantom language, Nemadi, also has a supposed Azer influence - which is actually a bit more likely, since they live in the Western Hodh region which also has a fair number of Soninke speakers, and is adjacent to Mali. More recent work has shown that the Nemadi is probably just Hassaniya with a few technical terms dealing with the hunting which those people do, with dogs no less, to complete the "spectacular display of interspecies cooperation." In Hassaniya they are called Ikokol.
In that same region are some other minority languages -a number of others have commented on Hassaniya language contact in use on the Mauritania-Mali border, I came across some non-linguistic academic work that suggests there is another language that is somehow distinct there. The surprisingly large amount of trade that occurs in the Modibougou market area has obviously led to a need for a trade language, or perhaps a language used by unassimilated Haratine, as this comment on the relationship between Beydhan and the economy of the Southern Hodh suggests:
"An example of the relationship between society and nature may be found in the villages of the southern part of the Hodh, and with which this study is concerned. In the area of rain-fed agriculture along the Mauritanian border with Mali are found numerous Haratine villages, known as adweba (singular debaye). Debaye is an offensive term to urban and politicised black Moors but is apparently perfectly acceptable in rural and remote eastern Mauritania. It is possible that the word derives from the word debba, for a beast of burden. If this is the case the word may be a semantic remnant of slavery itself, and point to a former function of Haratine villages in the southern Hodh. Thus, it is possible that many of the villages in the south of the Hodh were founded as summer grain-growing camps, visited by kabila overlords (Bidan Moors) only at harvest time. Regardless of the actual present legal status of the villagers, the practice of harvest-time visits to Haratine villages by Bidan Moors to receive free handouts of grain continues to this day, as the thesis will show. There are only very few signs that the practice is beginning to be questioned. This intriguing possible reason for the settlement of some villages may be supported by the actual names of some of them. For instance, two of the very largest Haratine villages of the central southern border area of the Hodh el Gharbi, Kerkerette Mohammed Saghir and Kerkerette Amar Beyou, belong to the Mohammed Saghir and Amar Beyou fractions of the Oulad an Nasser kabila respectively. Kerkeru in Bambara means ‘granary’, and kerkerette is the Arabised plural of kerkeru. It is therefore possible that these two large villages were founded as a source of grain for people living far beyond the actual village boundaries."

In addition, though, there seems to be a creole that has developed which is actually the 'mother tongue' of some villages like this one, called J'reif:

The village of Jreif is situated about 9 kilometres north of the border with Mali and about 4 kilometres south-west of the main village of Modibougou. As with Mosfeya, the village is due south of Aioun el Atrouss.
The exact ethnicity of the villagers of Jreif is unclear. The villagers are known locally as اهل الترني, meaning, ‘family of Terenni’. They say that they are of ‘Macina’ origin—presumably after the Macina empire of northern Mali of the 17th and 18th centuries. The story they relate about their origin is that under the leadership of their mysterious first ancestor, Mohammed el Hanchi—a being alleged to have been half-man, half-serpent—they migrated south from Tichit in east central Mauritania to the Aioun area, at the time when the ‘rocks were still wet’ (meaning when the rock escarpments around Aioun had not yet been fully formed, or when ‘the rocks were still soft’). This narrative appears to contain both fact and legend. Then, from a settlement close to the site of modern Aioun, they migrated south to Mali but came north again to their present location in 1905 in order for the men to avoid being drafted into the colonial army by the Malian authorities. The villagers also refer to themselves as Bidan or ‘white’. Almost all villagers have some knowledge of Hassaniyya Arabic, yet among themselves they appear to speak neither Arabic nor Sonninké—their own language appears to be a mixture of the two, possibly with a Berber element. The village seems to be integrated to some extent with the local Moorish kabila structure: they are allied with the Oulad an Nasser clan, yet do not appear to have been slaves at any time in the past, unlike most of the other Haratine villages of the area. Their exact origin remains a mystery, although this is not from want of asking questions.

Thanks goes to Jason Lawton for sharing this field work...

Interesting stuff from others

An interesting post over at jabal al-lughat on a connection between Kwarandzie, Zenaga, and Hassaniya on a word for genie/devil - agwəḍ, pl. igwạḍən -> ugṛuđ̣an (original singular *ugṛuḍ) -> īgṛäwṭən. I am not sure that I have heard this word, though it does resemble iggawen very slightly. On the other hand if one were writing it in Hassaniya it would be أقروطن with a possible substitution of a marked up ك for the ق . I suppose it would be quite far-fetched to say this was a Zenagafied borrowing of قرط , arabic for chives, so I'll have to take Lameen's word for it ;) previous posts this month include one on historical linguistics and the constraints of Fusha. Looks like a mountaintop month!

الامويّر

I came across a french cultural group which has a similar name: "Mille et Une Langues" and offers language classes in Lyon. They also founded a group called KoToPo, which is probably both a creative acronym and a Niger-Congo language spoken in Nigeria and Cameroon (where it is known as Peere).
But this then led me to another site on the Mille et Une Langues du Petit Prince which makes the astounding claim that the Little Prince is the best-selling work of fiction in the world. On our them of books I had to check that out, and verify it with the librass: In fact it does not come on any sort of top ten according to Wikipedia's list, nor according to Russel Ash's top 10 of everything which I remember reading quite a while back and being surprised that the "What Would Jesus Do?" book was number 9. (Incidentally I bought a postcard 2 days ago on the WWJD? theme - slightly irreverent, but not as bad as this). But I digress... The bit that was interesting about the Little Prince was that it has been translated into 150 many languages, and especially now (drum roll please...) Amazigh! It was disappointing to find out that Le Petit Prince wasn't originally written in French, despite it being Saint-Exupery's mother tongue - that my well have been the first book I ever read in French. But back to the Amazigh Principito, which is in Tifinagh script, and translated by a Québecois Moroccan, Fouad Lahbib. Though I haven't gotten very far in my berber studies, it appears that the title is Aglden not the article's stated Ageldun Amezzan. Which made me wonder if this is just the diminutive of Prince (as in Principito) or if the title is cut off. I think it sounds better with a diminutive rather than two words, and was really hoping I would find some creative Arabic diminutives, like امويّر (amweyer) as we might hear in Hassaniya. Instead, the only creativity was a disappointing replacement of رحالة for امير by one of the syrian translators... the only other noteworthy section of the little prince article was this bit on Argentinian language Toba: Il y a deux ans, la parution du Petit Prince en toba, dialecte parlé par une petite communauté aborigène du nord de l’Argentine et intitulé So Shiyaxawolec Nta’a, a permis aux membres de cette communauté de pouvoir lire autre chose que le Nouveau Testament.

whirlwind tour of the world

when I last wrote I was on my way to Mauritania, and I did in fact make it there, via Qatar to Morrocco and overland down to Nouakchott. On the always interesting stretch through the Western Sahara, I got to chat with some Hassaniya-speaking young men who were all too eager to share some poetry sha'bi with me, including not just givan but tulha, which are more like full sonnets where the gaf is simply a quatrain:
اصبر يا عقلي لا بعاد
وكر المدقوق بلا عنان
واصبر محدّاك بين زاد
اقلاب الدوقج ساكن
واصبر تشواشك لا نزاد
ولى حرك من ساكن
هذا ما كُن يغير بعد
أل؟ فخلاقي ما كُن
ماهو ما كُن فخلاق حد
احزيمُ ماهو ماكُن
سبحان الله الاشوي
عاد إلزم كفسارة
هذا ميجك؟ ما زال حي
وأقليبات الفرفارة

from the Tiris ( تيرس ) region...
I wish I could translate this accurately for you, but I have forgotten their explanation at the time, and too manz of the words are unfamiliar for me to spin it off right now... but on to more hassaniya poetry... this is one of my favorite tongue/twister givan:
سالكة من ورقتها تيات
وسلامة لهذاها الهاها
الهاها الين الهاها
نسات الناس لهذاها

Salecka from her leaves made tea
and Salama from over here [went] over there
that one there if over there
she forgot the ones over here

interpretation: Salecka was making atai (Mauritanian foamy espresso green tea with mint) and she spotted her buddy Salama (who in more suggestive versions of the poem is a man not a woman) over yonder. She was so preoccupied with her over there that she got the people nearby who she was making tea for. I'll have to confess I don't totally understand all the grammar and whatnot, but it always draws lots of exclamations of uskiin from the beydhan.

... carrying right along, I ended up losing my passport, getting stuck in Morocco, and ultimately denied entrance into the Sudan because of my emergency passport, and their unwillingness to accept my former residency and work permit and everything else. They even had the gall to write on my deportation papers "questionable or forged documents."

After finding out it would take a while to get a real passport with an acceptable visa, I figured I should take the opportunity to visit a friend who happened to be in Spain, my favorite phonologist and Finn, in Zaragoza, i.e. Tharagotha (homeland of Zarathustra, as one friend claimed). This city is a great example of mudejarismo, but I didn't really get a great opportunity to check that out... though I did get a bit of a start on Finnish language, which some say is magical...
I was particularly interested in the reality of diglossia among Finnish speakers - the written language is quite different from the spoken language, even to the extent that if you are learning Finnish from a book, the greeting they will teach will be "hei," when in reality people would only say "moi." As I travelled on through Barcelona, and then Switzerland, I realized that there is a surprising amount of diglossia going on around Europe. Catalan is now being written more, but it seems as though most all books and longer writing is Spanish, while in Switzerland there is quite a difference between the swizzedeutsch and spoken altedeutsch. Sure, everybody has to use a slightly different register between writing and speech, but I would have thought, there would be a tendency towards convergence, except in the cases like Arabic, where the spoken dialects are spread over many different countries. It seems like there is instead a more general move towards convergence in written language norms, and divergence in spoken language... which leads to greater difference for each individual between their speech and their writing.
Well, that is a summary of the last month, which also has seen the momentous return of bulbulovo to the blogosphere, most recently with an interesting post on foreign languages in "Law and Order."

bilad shinqit

I regret that I have been negligent in posting the last month, but I have been away from internet access much of that time, and busy with humanitarian more of the time, and then losing my mind the rest of the time. But now I am going on holiday for a bit, and where would I go but... you guessed it : Mauritania! Having lived there for 2 years I really miss the place, and I can't wait to get back into a little Hassaniya... I have a soft spot in my heart for all the mixed up french/zenaga/wolof/arabic messiness, and most of all the occasionally poetry, known as givan (sing. - gaf) passed back and forth of glasses of sweet minty green tea. here are are a fewI still remember:

متنقلي ميات ذشهر
ومتنقلي بعد اوطاني
شوف نجمة واشهرعلامة موريتاني
mutanagli miat dha shhar
wa mutanagli ba'd watani
shouf nejma w'ashhar
'alamat muritani
Missing the end of the month
and missing yet my homeland
look, the star and half-moon
the standard of Mauritania
...and for your empty stomachs missing your favorite lunch:
اشبه القوت
مارو والحوت
بط من الماء
وسبما
ashbah al-qout
maro wal hout
batt min al-ma
wa soppema
The best of meals
is a fish and rice
a bottle of water
and cabbage
... and for the francophones out there, from the famous polyglot poet of chinguetti:
اراد عنك تو لفوا
والامحان بوركوا
انت لارن
وانا لاروا
arad 'annik,
tu le vois
w'al-amhan pourquoi
anti la reine,
w'ana le roi
I want you, you see
and the proof why is
you are the queen,
and I am the king

on the second one there are two Wolof words (from what I am told - my knowledge of Wolof is quite rudimentary) - "maro" is rice, and "soppema" is cabbage.
more givan to come in the next week hopefully!