Ta dobra.
Our take
Introducing "Ta dobra," a captivating piece from *bulbulistan redivivus*, showcasing the eclectic writings of bulbul/Slavo. This collection pays homage to Hans Stumme, the influential German linguist whose explorations (1864-1936) profoundly shaped our understanding of Berber and North African varieties of Arabic. Stumme’s extensive travels led him to gather a wealth of spoken data, illuminating the rich tapestry of linguistic diversity in the region. Dive into this fine post to discover the intricate connections between language, culture, and the stories that shape our world.
The world of language is a tapestry woven with threads of history, geography, and culture. In the recent post from bulbulistan redivivus, we are invited to dive into the intricate life and contributions of Hans Stumme (1864-1936), a German linguist whose extensive travels and meticulous collection of spoken data from diverse communities such as Tunisians, Išelḥiyen, and Maltese provide a rich source for understanding the complex interplay of language and folk culture. It's the kind of exploration that resonates deeply with anyone who has ever wrestled with the nuances of language learning — much like the discussions in our own pieces like Just curious, what tools do you actually use to read/listen to content in your target language before you're fluent? and Interstitium, Apoplast..
Stumme's work is not merely academic; it is a treasure trove for folklorists and linguists alike. His passion for collecting folk literature—fairytales, songs, and oral traditions—speaks to a larger narrative about how language functions as a vessel for cultural identity. When we consider Stumme's efforts, we see a man not only cataloging vocabulary but also preserving the spirit of the communities he engaged with. This becomes particularly relevant in our modern age, where rapid globalization often threatens to homogenize distinct cultural voices. Stumme serves as a reminder that language is living history, encapsulating the joys, sorrows, and aspirations of people.
What makes Stumme's work even more compelling is the context of his explorations. He was operating at a time when understanding the complexities of North African languages and their interrelations with Arabic was still a nascent field. His attention to detail and the way he recorded spoken data presents a meticulous approach that modern linguists can learn from. How can we, as language enthusiasts or learners, adopt similar methodologies in our own pursuits? This question echoes the sentiments expressed in our article What Happened to Jesus’ Twelve Disciples After the Bible—It Wasn’t Pretty, where we explore the stories that inform our understanding of broader narratives.
As we pull back the layers of Stumme’s contributions, we come to realize that his fascination with language was not merely academic; it was a love letter to the world’s diversity. His legacy invites us to reflect on how we engage with language today. Are we merely consuming it, or are we actively contributing to its tapestry? As we ponder these questions, the future of language study seems ripe with opportunity. In an age of social media, online communities, and global connectivity, how will future linguists and language learners preserve their own cultural narratives? The challenge lies in not only documenting but also celebrating the intricacies of our languages. So let’s keep that curiosity alive and ask ourselves: what stories are waiting to be told, and how can we ensure they don’t get lost in translation? Stay spooty.
A fine post from bulbulistan redivivus, that collection of writings of bulbul/Slavo (see this LH post):
Hans Stumme (1864-1936) was a German linguist whose work is is probably known to anyone interested in Berber and North-African varieties of Arabic. Stumme travelled a lot and collected huge amounts of spoken data from – inter alia – Tunisians, Išelḥiyen and the Maltese. […] It is quite clear that Stumme was particularly interested in collecting folk literature, such fairytales and songs, where his books remain an invaluable source of data for folklorists. At the same time, Stumme’s work is extremely valuable for the study of the languages involved […]
This applies doubly to Maltese where there have been at least two major studies of the fairytales (1, 2). As far as I can tell, there is little focus in reevaluating Stumme’s dialectological work (but that might change soon), which is a shame, because there is so much fascinating stuff in there. Like for example song no. 70 from the collection of Maltese songs (Kössler-Ilg and Stumme 1909, p. 27). I am reproducing the text below in standard Maltese orthography and Stumme’s original German translation accompanied by my English one based on the Maltese text.
Ta’ dobra sejrin jsiefru […]
Die Slawen wollen abreisen […]
The Slavs are about to leave […]
A note here: the phrase tathom qalbhom is a bit of a mystery. […]
But that is not why we are here. We are here for the multi-word expression in bold that Stumme translates as the ethnonym “Slavs”. The composition of the expression is clear: the element ta’ is what Arabic dialectology refers to as genitive exponent, i.e. possession marker, the equivalent of ‘of’. In North African varieties, it usually takes the form mtāʕ/ntāʕ etc., the apostrophe at the end of ta’ is what remained of ʕ in Maltese. ta’ (or tal- with a definite article) + NOUN is how Maltese creates group names: ta’ Lejber ‘Labourists’, tal-PN ‘nationalists (lit. of Partit Nazzjonalista)” are perhaps the most prominent examples. Similarly, in a version of the Maltese translation of Bandiera rossa, the first verse goes Tal-pinna o ħutna, ukoll tal-mazza where pinna is ‘pen’ and mazza is ‘sledgehammer’, the two expressions meaning ‘intellectuals’ and ‘workers’.
What the of the dobra? That is quite simple; as Stumme himself puts it on p. 11, we’re dealing with “die Leute, die immer dobra ‘gut!’ sagen” (“the people who always say dobra ‘good!'”). That we do so and that we are perceived as such I can attest to from personal experience, recalling for example an Albanian lady in a B&B in Italy who upon learning that I am Slovak went “Oh you are one of the dobre dobre people!” That this is also how the Maltese thought of us back in the late 19th century is fascinating. Now the question remains which Slavs are these, since the general adverb of agreement usually takes the form dobre/dobro. The only language I can think of where people use a form with an [a] at the end is Czech, but there the vowel is long and considering the geography of the region, it is more likely that Maltese would encounter South Slavs. So probably not Czechs and definitely not the Polish or Slovaks, otherwise it would either be ta’ dopxe or, of course, ta’ kurva.
To je dobré!
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