Onomatopoeic Words That Imitate the Sounds of People in their Speech and Various States of Being

Al-Qahqaha echoes the qah-qah cackle of the laugher. Al-Ṣahṣaha mimics the loud, scolding ṣah-ṣah of a man hushing a crowd.

Al-Da‘da‘a sounds like what is said to someone who stumbles and falls — da‘-da‘, i.e, “Get back on your feet!”

Al-Bakhbakha imitates the bakh-bakh exclamation of a man excited by something he finds to be excellent. Al-Ta’khīkh mimics the akh-akh sound a man makes when he is moved by something he considers fine.

Al-Zahzaha copies the zah-zah interjection of the contented man. Al-Naḥnaḥa (and al-tanaḥnuḥ) imitates the slight coughing sound — naḥ-naḥ — of a man asking to be excused and the like. Al-‘Aṭ‘aṭa resembles the ‘īṭ-‘īṭ yowling of the shameless buffoon when he’s drunk or spouting nonsense.

Al-Tamaṭṭuq resembles the sound that a man, savoring his food, makes with his tongue against his soft palate. Al-Ṭa‘ṭa‘a imitates the smacking sounds made by the finger-licker when pressing his tongue to his hard palate and enjoying something tasty he has eaten.

Al-Waḥwaḥa resembles a voice with hoarseness in it.

Al-Hazhaza and al-barbara mimic the shrieking of a legion of camels in battle.

Al-Kahkaha mimics the sound that a cold person makes while blowing on their frostbitten hands.

Al-Jahjaha imitates of the cry of lions or camels. Al-Harhara resembles the bleating of flocks. Al-Basbasa mimics the cry of cats.

Al-Walwala parrots the words of a woman saying, “Wa-waylāh!" (O Woe to him!)

Al-Nabnaba mimics the yelping of the delirious man during intercourse.

—Fiqh al-lugha wa-asrār al-‘arabīya, ed. Yāsīn al-Ayūbī (Saydā’: al-Maktaba al-‘Usrīya, 2008), 240.

Concerning Onomatopoeic Words That Mimic the Sounds of the Distressed, Exhausted and Sick

Al-Aḥīḥ and al-uḥāḥ are the shriek brought out by pain or affliction. Al-Naḥīṭ is the heavy huffing noise that gives rest to the fuller as he beats clothing on rocks. Al-Hamhama is a sound that emanates from the moan of worry or sadness that quivers in the breast. Al-Zaḥīr is the groan  emitted during labor or hardship. Al-Tazaḥḥur and al-ṭaḥīr mean the same thing. Al-Nahīm is similar to al-naḥīm, which resembles the wail that gives comfort to the exhausted laborer who makes it, as in the line from the poem: What’s wrong? Why don’t you sigh, O Evening? / Don’t you know that the sigh is comfort to the cupbearer?

— Fiqh al-lugha wa-asrār al-‘arabīya, ed. Yāsīn al-Ayūbī (Saydā’: al-Maktaba al-‘Usrīya, 2008), 241.

 

 

al-Tha‘alabi: Types of Loud Noises

Types of Loud Noises

Any forceful voice is al-ṣiyāḥ (to shout, cry). Al-Ṣurākh (and al-ṣarkha) is the sharp cry that comes from fright or calamity. Close to it in meaning is al-za‘qa (shriek) and al-ṣalqa (grating cry, especially during battle). Al-Ṣakhb is the noise made during argument and quarrel.

Al-‘Ajj is the raising of the voice when one says the ritual phrase, “Here I am to serve you!” or when one invokes the name of God during slaughter. Al-Tahlīl is to raise one’s voice in saying, “There is no god but God and Muhammad is the Prophet of God.” Al-Istihlāl is the first cry of the newborn child.

Al-Zajal is to raise the voice when one is moved by music. Al-Naq‘ is the loud scream. Al-Hay‘a is the cry of fright, as in the Prophetic tradition: “The best of men is the one who holds fast the reins of his steed and the one who, when he hears the shriek of fear, flies toward it.” Al-Wā‘īya is the crying lament over the dead. Al-Na‘īr is the shouting of the victor over the vanquished.

Al-Na‘īq is the sound of the shepherd calling his flock. Al-Hadīd (and al-hadda) is the fierce noise you hear when part of a building or mountain collapses. Al-Fadīd is the farmer's throaty call to oxen or donkeys while working in the field. As mentioned in the Prophetic tradition, “Brusqueness and harshness are traits of the loud-voiced men in the field.”

Al-Ṣadīd (to laugh out loud, to raise a clamor) is another loud noise, as is al-ḍajīj (to raise a tumult), and appears in the Qur’an: When Mary’s son was given as an example, your people howled with laughter (Surat al-Zukhruf: 57), which is to say: they raised a clamor, a tumult, a ruckus. Al-Jarāhīya is the sound of people when their words are spoken publicly and openly rather than in secret and, according to Abu Zayd, is similar to al-hayḍala (the hue and cry of battle).

Fiqh al-lugha wa-asrār al-‘arabīya, ed. Yāsīn al-Ayūbī (Saydā’: al-Maktaba al-‘Usrīya, 2008), 238-9

Al-Tha‘alabi: Concerning the Sounds of Movements

Concerning the Sounds of Movements

Al-Hams is the sound of a person stirring and is mentioned in the Qur’an: All voices shall fade for the Most Merciful, and you shall hear nothing but a faint stirring (Surat Taha: 108). Similar to this is al-jars (the muted pecking of birds, the buzz of sipping bees, or the hum of a distant crowd) and al-khashfa (the rustle of creeping serpents or slinking hyenas). As the Prophet said to Bilal: Whenever I see myself entering Paradise, I hear a faint rustle, and there you are.

Very close to this in meaning are al-hamsha (susurration, said of locusts devouring provisions) and al-waqsha (a faint fluttering, like the stirring of a child in the belly). As for al-nāmma, this refers to how a person might be betrayed by their footsteps. Al-Hashasa (to rustle, susurrate) applies in general to anything with a barely perceptible sound, such as the soft treading of camels as they walk. Al-Hamīs is the sound made by the pads of camels. As in the line of poetry: They walk among us with the softest of treads.


— al-Tha‘alabi, Fiqh al-lugha wa-asrār al-‘arabīya, ed. Yāsīn al-Ayūbī (Saydā’: al-Maktaba al-‘Usrīya, 2008), 237-8.

al-Tha‘alabi: Types of Barely Perceptible Sounds

Happy "Friday Word List" from al-Tha‘alabi's Fiqh al-lugha wa-asrār al-‘arabīya (Fundamentals of Language and the Secrets of Arabic). 

Types of Barely Perceptible Sounds

Among the almost imperceptible sounds are al-rizz (a sharp rumbling of the belly), then al-rikz (a slight, far-off cry, such as the voice of hunter calling his dogs), which is mentioned in the Qur’an: And how many generations before them have We destroyed! Can you (Muhammad) see any one of them? Can you hear from them the slightest of sounds? (Surat Maryam: 98).

Then there is al-hatmala (to murmur to oneself) which is softer than the tones made when whispering into someone's ear. Then there is al-haynama (to mumble-read), which is like reading aloud, only unclearly so. As the poet Al-Kumayt ibn Zayd al-Asadi put it: Whenever I’ve witnessed foolish speech, it was spoken by men who murmured and mumbled.

Then there is al-dandana, which is when a person speaks and you can discern its prosody but understand nothing of the words because that person is hiding them from you. This appears in the hadīth: As for your mumblings and those of Mu‘ādh, we understand them not.

Then, al-naghm, which is the ringing of speech and the beauty of its sound. Then there is al-nab’a, which is a soft sound. Finally, there is al-na’ma (to sigh or moan), which is a very slight sound.

Fiqh al-lugha wa-asrār al-‘arabīya, ed. Yāsīn al-Ayūbī (Saydā’: al-Maktaba al-‘Usrīya, 2008), p. 237.

al-Tha‘alabi: Types of Intoxication

The prolific anthologist ‘Abd al-Mansūr ‘Abd al-Malik ibn Muammad al-Tha‘alabi (961-1038) was the author of the encyclopedic lexicon, Fiqh al-lugha wa-asrār al-‘arabīya (Fundamentals of Language and the Secrets of Arabic). In this original work, al-Tha‘alabi organizes vocabulary according to remarkably subtle distinctions. To honor the drinking you may do in the coming days, let's us turn to his lexicon of drunkenness:

Types of Intoxication

When a person drinks, he becomes nashwān (giddy, elated). If drink overcomes the person, then he becomes thamil (buzzed). If it reaches the point where punishment is merited, then he is sakrān (inebriated). If he goes on drinking his fill, then he is sakran ṭāfiḥ (completely drunk). If he is unable to control himself or keep himself together, he is multakhkh (shit-faced). If he is unaware of his surroundings and unable to move his tongue, he is sakrān bāt, which is to say, an inarticulate drunk.

— Fiqh al-lugha wa-asrār al-‘arabīya, ed. Yāsīn al-Ayūbī (Saydā’: al-Maktaba al-‘Usrīya, 2008), p. 298.

 

al-Tha‘alabi: Types of Sleep

The prolific anthologist ‘Abd al-Mansūr ‘Abd al-Malik ibn Muhammad al-Tha‘alabi (961-1038) was the author of the encyclopedic lexicon, Fiqh al-lugha wa-asrār al-‘arabīya (Fundamentals of Language and the Secrets of Arabic). In this original work, al-Tha‘alabi organizes vocabulary according to remarkably subtle distinctions. 

To honor the long nights of the present season, let us begin with sleep.

Types of Sleep

The first stage of sleep is al-nu‘ās (drowsiness), which is when a person needs to sleep. Then comes al-wasan (nodding off), which is when the drowsiness becomes heavy. Then comes al-tarnīq (dimming), which is when the drowsiness makes the eyes begin to shut. Then come al-kurā and al-ghumḍ, which is when a person is between sleeping and waking. Then comes al-taghfīq, which is the kind of sleep when you hear people talking (this by way of al-Aṣma‘ī). Then comes al-ighfā’, which is light rest. Then comes al-tahwīn, al-ghirār and al-tahjā‘, which is a short kind of sleep. Then al-ruqād, which is a long sleep. Then al-hujūd, al-hujū‘, and al-hubū‘, which are forms of deep slumber. Finally there is al-tasbīkh, the soundest form of slumber.

Fiqh al-lugha wa-asrār al-‘arabīya, ed. Yāsīn al-Ayūbī (Saydā’: al-Maktaba al-‘Usrīya, 2008), p. 205.

Hint: It's Not Really About Free Speech.

Here we go again, shouting at each other about free speech and the university. For all our yelling about speech, and our insistence on rights and principles, it means little unless we’re also willing to reckon with institution and symmetry. Otherwise, we might as well just hold our breath.

Take yesterday, for example. Georgetown University (where I teach) invited Attorney General Jefferson Beauregard Sessions to lecture us on free speech. Sessions championed the noble idea that opinion and expression should not be censored. Insisting that a strong and healthy society is one that does not restrain unpopular speech, Sessions claimed, “Freedom of thought and speech on American campus are under attack. The American university was once the center of academic freedom, a place of robust debate, a forum for the competition of ideas. But it is transforming into an echo chamber of political correctness and homogeneous thought, a shelter for fragile egos.”

Conservative commentators applauded Sessions as he stuck it to the (liberal establishment) Man. No surprise, for decades they have been claiming that free speech is under attack, particularly at universities. As someone who grew up in a conservative community, I understand this language and see how it resonates. But as someone who now works in higher education, I have to say that this view is based in a very poor understanding of what universities are.

Because ideas and deliberation are so central to the institutional mission of universities, they have historically made it a priority to host a very wide range of people who might fairly be called "experts." This includes scholars and scientists, of course, but also practitioners, officials, leaders, writers, athletes, entrepreneurs, poets, and artists. Is there any other contemporary institution so willing to acknowledge and promote such a range of knowledge? I doubt it. 

At the same time, universities are more than soapboxes. Unlike Hyde Park, we engage in scientific research and teaching and here the value of scholarly debate—and evidence—reigns supreme. Whether or not universities always live up these ideals, they form the ethical core of the place. And because of that, the university is usually (but not always) poor soil for ideas which fail to pass scientific and scholarly review. It has little to do with popularity. White supremacist explanations of the world used to be quite popular at universities. Same with male chauvinism, homophobia, anti-Semitism and Islamophobia. Now, these explanations melt like snowflakes in a warm classroom. Why? Years of informed counter-arguments produced by new generations of researchers. Note: this doesn’t mean racism and sexism have disappeared from campuses, only that their old intellectual foundations are now broadly and routinely questioned.  

Somehow, all this is lost not just on conservatives but also on some liberals who, looking for balance, have a hard time seeing the demands of right-wing free-speech warriors for what they are. While excoriating Sessions this week, Washington Post columnist Margaret Sullivan bent over backwards to concede that the right-wing is right on one point. “It’s wrong,” she wrote, “When far-right pundits are prevented from speaking on campuses because of liberal protests run amok — as has happened at universities in California, Vermont and elsewhere.”

Sullivan went on to highlight Sessions’ hypocrisy on the subject and the fact that Sessions’ talk took place in a safe space purged of protesters. Nonetheless, Sullivan demanded that universities play a particular role in American society and play it in particular way.

This is the moment where we need to inject the notion of symmetry into the debate. Or rather asymmetry. Why are we acting like universities are the only kind of institution where public speech takes place? I live in Washington, D.C. which is home to many very talky institutions besides universities. Just try to count the number of foundations, funds, institutes, think-tanks and organizations that host public lectures every day. Similarly, corporations routinely host speakers and mount lectures as so do military and intelligence agencies. Add to this all the sermons and talks at churches, temples and mosques. That’s a lot of events and booking agents, but who in this town is worried about empty lecterns? There are enough think-hatcheries and consulting firms to keep the streams of public speech stocked forever.

Which brings me to my point: if we were to count the number of public lectures­ that take place in the District during any given week, we would find that universities are certainly not the leading institutional site of public talks. So let's apply our principles to the entire spectrum of talky institutions. For instance, let's ask the Washington Institute for Near East Policy to host a talk by Iraq Veterans Against War.  Let's demand that the American Petroleum Institute convene a panel of Lakota Nation leaders to talk about tribal sovereignty. Let's make HUD invite public housing activists to give a briefing on the community effects of privatization. 

 All of this underscores the great assymetry in our conversation. Why are we talking only about universities? Why aren’t we insisting that Citicorp, for instance, invite Naomi Klein to speak at its next corporate retreat? Is it because we think boards of directors deserve more safe space than teenage students? And why are we so hung up on liberal universities? Why aren't we asking Liberty University why it has blackballed Noam Chomsky from speaking? Or is it that, unlike liberal universities, Christian colleges and corporations are immune to the dangers of echo chamber life?

We know the answer to these questions: this conversation is not really about free speech at the university. Instead, it is about the frustration the far right feels that its ideas are not taken seriously by mainstream research communities. For their part, liberal allies who talk about balance need to apply that same sense of balance to all the other institutions of public speech. 

Free-speech absolutists are welcome to continue their targeting of universities, but they should realize that the primary purpose of a university is not speech for its own sake, but rather speech that is knowledgeable, testable and informed. If free-speech activists want to be taken seriously on campuses, they should do what people do at universities: study and conduct research. Everything else is just talk—and has no intrinsic right to university platforms.

BDS is Professional Solidarity

I endorse BDS as a strategy because it is one of the very few ways to use our position as educators to act in solidarity with Palestinian colleagues who have lived under military occupation for fifty years.

Fifty years. That’s how long it’s been since Israel conquered those territories of mandate Palestine it had failed to seize in 1948. Ever since, Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza have lived under the grueling everyday circumstances of military occupation. We call it ‘occupation,’ but it is better called a siege.

The dynamics of this siege have changed over the decades. Sometimes it has been characterized by direct policing and unambiguous forms of domination. Sometimes by subtle forms of divide and rule or distanced, mediated regimes of command. But as any visitor to Hebron or Nablus can tell you: the system of control today is as tight and deadly as it has ever been.

During these five decades, Palestinian communities have been uprooted and subjected to a uniquely unaccountable form of violence. For fifty years, Palestinian leaders have been imprisoned, tortured and assassinated on the grounds that they were “terrorists.” For fifty years, Palestinians have watched as their lands were seized by an ethno-supremacist settler movement with deep roots and powerful patrons in the USA. For fifty years, Palestinians fought against their oppression even though this has meant confronting one of the most powerful militaries of the world.

The contrast with Israeli society could not be greater. Even though unabashed regimes of oppression always engender some forms of violence, Israeli citizens pay almost no price for the occupation. Israelis enjoy complete freedom of movement and robust civil and political rights within Israel and beyond. Indeed, for many Israelis, the fifty-year military occupation has been a source of opportunity and advancement. This is certainly true for the science and technology sectors, especially those that work closely with the intelligence and security agencies.

It is a source of personal shame for me to have watched as my elected officials—Democrat and Republican administrations and Congresses—trip over themselves to bankroll and celebrate the siege on Palestine. I have always been amazed by the generosity of Palestinians toward me despite this history, as well as their insistence on distinguishing between ordinary Americans and the governments we continually elect. The fact is that we do not deserve such generosity. Certainly we cannot expect it to last another fifty years, unless we—as private citizens—take tangible, real-world steps to show our dissent.

A vote for BDS is a real-world step that will mark our opposition to fifty years of US foreign policy on the occupation and the violence it has done to Palestinians. If for years we have failed to act or speak up, this will be a step towards ending our complicity and negligence. More importantly, it will allow us to act professionally toward colleagues who have long called for us to take a stand with them as they fight for their right to higher education.

Of all the wrongs in this history, it may seem odd to focus on the way the Israeli siege of Palestinian society tramples on the right to higher education. But since it is higher education that brings us together as professionals, it is fitting that we should single this out in our academic associations.

It is also fitting for another reason: the Israeli siege of Palestinian society has long included a draconian policy toward education. Checkpoints, closures, expulsions and the everyday violence of military occupation means it is very difficult to be a Palestinian student at any level. And it makes it very difficult to be a teacher, professor, researcher, scholar, dean or anyone else dedicated to the principle that Palestinians deserve education just like any other people.

For me, this is the heart of Boycott, Sanctions and Divestment: it is a call from colleagues living under duress and threat for help to break this fifty-year siege. The solidarity they ask for does not come from the fact that we share the same conditions of life, but because we share the same values, starting with the right to an education.

Admittedly, there is a paradox in the BDS position, since most scholars are by our nature prone to abhor policies that would place limits on intellectual movement, contact, and exchange. Indeed, it is precisely because such limits have been placed on Palestinian scholars, teachers and students that we need to bring them into question and make them a central issue of our professional solidarity.

And what, after all, is the fifty-year-old Israeli siege on Palestinian higher education? It is nothing but an unacknowledged and immoral form of boycott, divestment and sanction imposed by the powerful on the weak through military conquest. In contrast to this siege, our BDS campaign is based on transparency, non-violence, consensus and equality.

There is also a vexing question here: How does an endorsement of BDS help break the siege on Palestinian higher education? But the logic is not as convoluted as sophists would have it. It is simply to make Israeli institutions begin to pay a cost for the violent occupation they maintain, and to bring our weight as an association to bear on the subject. By introducing a set of conditions on the associations we are willing to make with our Israeli colleagues, we are asking them to end their quiescence and complacency and to clarify their position with regard to the siege on Palestinian higher education.

If it is difficult to imagine the endurance and patience of Palestinian academics struggling against military occupation, then consider instead the career of the Israeli humanist, Menahem Milson. Milson was a Harvard-trained literature professor at Hebrew University when he was tapped in the late 1960s to serve in the military government of the West Bank. Later, during the 1970s, Milson oversaw Israeli policy concerning Palestinian higher education. It was Milson’s office that issued “Military Order 845,” which effectively put Israeli military personnel in charge of admissions and hiring decisions at all Palestinian universities, and became the basis for the closures that lasted months and years. The result was devastating—an entire generation was denied access to the university.

When Milson finished, he simply went back to teaching literature as he’d done before. Over the years, he enjoyed the experience of being hosted as a visiting scholar at American and European universities, and had a distinguished career as Department Chair, Dean of the Faculty of the Humanities and eventually Provost.

Here is the point: it was our eminent humanist colleague, Milson, who launched the first assaults on Palestinian higher education, and his policies formed the artillery and battering rams of the fifty-year siege. While he toggled back and forth between his life as a civilian scholar and an officer of the occupation, the Palestinian students, teachers and scholars whose lives he governed never had it so good. Today, Milson is an emeritus humanities professor with time to oversee the odious “MEMRI translation project,” while his Palestinian victims still—decades later—struggle to overturn his destructive legacies.

If Milson’s example is too extreme, picture instead the quiescent and morally ambiguous position of the Israeli academy as a collective. At present there is not a single Israeli university that is not deeply imbricated in the occupation. Some even profit handsomely from it. This happens at the institutional level, and also at the level of individuals, providing crucial expert support for the occupation army, military intelligence and weapons design. 

Given this history, the collective silence of our colleagues in Israel is now deafening. It has gone on for half a century now. Which Israeli academic associations have extended gestures of decency and support, let alone professional solidarity, toward their peers living under occupation over the past fifty years? The list is not long.

True, there is an important history of dissidence within the Israeli academy, and it is not difficult to think of individual Israeli scholars who—by their research, teaching and professionalism—have worked against the grain of the occupation and have stood in solidarity with their colleagues living under occupation. But now, the few critics who remain in the Israeli academy are harassed and threatened routinely, quite often by administrators and colleagues at their own institutions. It is significant that most of these same dissidents have endorsed the call for BDS. So, in effect, the call for BDS is not just asking us to stand with our Palestinian colleagues as they face the siege. It is also to stand with those Israeli dissidents who have most resisted the occupation. 

There are colleagues who accuse BDS advocates of hypocrisy, with an insincere rhetoric of "whataboutery." They shout, "What about...?!" and ask why we are so silent about Saudi Arabia, China or Russia. When they do that we should remind them: we are not silent about other places, and we already do stand in solidarity with beleaguered colleagues wherever our principles and struggles converge . 

There are also colleagues who will suggest, as if they’d made a clever discovery, that the US academy might itself be targeted by BDS campaigns because of our collective complicity in American Empire. We should say to them: we would welcome sincere campaigns as signs of friendship and goodwill—because they would be nothing less than invitations for us to resolve the contradictions between the principles and values we claim to embrace as Americans and the way we work and live our lives in this country.

In the meantime, I join my colleagues at the MLA who have decided to stand with the Palestinian right to education. Anything less is to be party to the siege against our colleagues in Palestine. 

Advertising in the Time of Import Substitution

Being on leave means having the time to read the things you too often ignore. Like advertisements from periods you are studying for completely other purposes. Because of their attempt to appear "timely" and "contemporary" within the moment of their making, and because of their appeal to desire and aspiration, ads can read like windows onto the zeitgeist and collective dreamings of the past. But mostly, they are fascinating to look at. In the case of the images below, their nationalization aesthetic and rhetoric contradict and challenge our neoliberal present—and that in itself is worth the effort of study.

In July 1963, the Egyptian Gazette published a "special supplement" commemorating the eleventh anniversary of the 1952 coup d'état that brought the Free Officers to power. The oversize issue of the Gazette trumpets the accomplishments of the Nasser regime in a series of fluff journalistic 'pieces' and large ads mounted by leading public sector industries—from tourism to cotton weaving to tourism, offering a range of consumer products. Most (all?) of the companies here were built from colonial-era corporations that had been (in 1963) only recently nationalized. The ads of this issue of the Gazette are thus testament to the unrealized and imperfect dream of creating an independent national economy. 

Steel, iron, plastic and wood

They used to make things other than macaroni...

They used to make things other than macaroni...

Food and Drink

Luxury goods

Cotton and Textiles

Tourism

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Islam ( الدعوة ) 

Advertising