aahhhh motherland
Mar. 5th, 2004 02:27 pmNew icon. I feel a rash of family stories coming on. Brace yourselves.
I was talking to my favorite aunt (Aunt C) last night about thayammi. She was very upset as she was particularly close to her.
On a random note, one thing I like about Urdu is how specific it is in terms of relationships. So there's a different word for paternal and maternal aunts and uncles and their position in the family. So thaya (pronounced 'thigh ah') is specific for your father's older brother. Affectionately you can stick 'abu' or 'abba' after it. Abu is one of the various words for father (sort of like pa or dad vs. a more formal 'abba' for father). So I called my dad's older brother thayabba. And his wife is thayammi (where 'ammi' is the word for mother). One of my favorite words is 'chacha' (pronounced like it looks) and it means father's younger brother. So I don't have a chacha, but my older brother is chacha to our eldest brother's sons. So when I give my brother OB* reminder calls, I like to trill at him, "Now don't forget to send A his birthday card! You're his only chaaaaaaachaa!"
To his credit, OB never hangs up on me.
Less exciting to me is my own name to my nephews. It's poopy. No, really--literally. It's phoopho (father's sister) and boy was it a fun time when A discovered that 'phoopho' and 'poopy' sounded kind of alike. *sour look* Never mind, I'll be able to torture him some day with diaper-changing accounts in front of cute girls. There's always a payoff, brother.
Anyhow, so talking to Aunt C about thayammi. We were revisiting stories about her. And since I was very young when I lived in the land of Pakis, she was telling me all the abominable things I did as a child. Apparently thayabba and thayammi used to take me back to their house for extended visits. I was a babbling and friendly kid (some personality traits are set when we're 3 eh?) and they did love me heaps. I was also a particularly stupid and chickenshit kid. So I managed to lock myself in the bathroom and freaked out a bit. I was very very young and couldn't figure out how to unlock the door. So I burst into tears. My aunt and uncle freaked out because I was freaking out and they CUT A HOLE IN THE CEILING so someone could drop in and unlock the door because they were worried that I was freaking out. And the entire time this was happening, my thayammi kept me distracted by the door, speaking in the soft, soothing tones you use for a skittish pony. To give myself a bit of a break, this was back in the early 1800s and the bathrooms were kind of primitive and scary.
She really loved people and it was very clear in all her dealings with others. She would always listen with genuine interest, asking questions and offering help. I'm a bit jealous that cousins K, M and Z were able to visit with her last summer. K was telling us that thayammi was so cute, she would nod so intently when people were talking that her lips would be pursed in concentration. So as she nodded and pursed, it was almost like she was subconsciously air-kissing whoever she was talking to. Isn't that sweet?
Hrm. I feel all inspired to rework my website and do the family section, now. If I can somehow stop commenting to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
brabble's journal every 19 seconds.
* Is that better than O for O-face, Sarah or does it now remind you of tampons? Hrm of course now it will. Um try to think of it as Obi-wan, k?
I was talking to my favorite aunt (Aunt C) last night about thayammi. She was very upset as she was particularly close to her.
On a random note, one thing I like about Urdu is how specific it is in terms of relationships. So there's a different word for paternal and maternal aunts and uncles and their position in the family. So thaya (pronounced 'thigh ah') is specific for your father's older brother. Affectionately you can stick 'abu' or 'abba' after it. Abu is one of the various words for father (sort of like pa or dad vs. a more formal 'abba' for father). So I called my dad's older brother thayabba. And his wife is thayammi (where 'ammi' is the word for mother). One of my favorite words is 'chacha' (pronounced like it looks) and it means father's younger brother. So I don't have a chacha, but my older brother is chacha to our eldest brother's sons. So when I give my brother OB* reminder calls, I like to trill at him, "Now don't forget to send A his birthday card! You're his only chaaaaaaachaa!"
To his credit, OB never hangs up on me.
Less exciting to me is my own name to my nephews. It's poopy. No, really--literally. It's phoopho (father's sister) and boy was it a fun time when A discovered that 'phoopho' and 'poopy' sounded kind of alike. *sour look* Never mind, I'll be able to torture him some day with diaper-changing accounts in front of cute girls. There's always a payoff, brother.
Anyhow, so talking to Aunt C about thayammi. We were revisiting stories about her. And since I was very young when I lived in the land of Pakis, she was telling me all the abominable things I did as a child. Apparently thayabba and thayammi used to take me back to their house for extended visits. I was a babbling and friendly kid (some personality traits are set when we're 3 eh?) and they did love me heaps. I was also a particularly stupid and chickenshit kid. So I managed to lock myself in the bathroom and freaked out a bit. I was very very young and couldn't figure out how to unlock the door. So I burst into tears. My aunt and uncle freaked out because I was freaking out and they CUT A HOLE IN THE CEILING so someone could drop in and unlock the door because they were worried that I was freaking out. And the entire time this was happening, my thayammi kept me distracted by the door, speaking in the soft, soothing tones you use for a skittish pony. To give myself a bit of a break, this was back in the early 1800s and the bathrooms were kind of primitive and scary.
She really loved people and it was very clear in all her dealings with others. She would always listen with genuine interest, asking questions and offering help. I'm a bit jealous that cousins K, M and Z were able to visit with her last summer. K was telling us that thayammi was so cute, she would nod so intently when people were talking that her lips would be pursed in concentration. So as she nodded and pursed, it was almost like she was subconsciously air-kissing whoever she was talking to. Isn't that sweet?
Hrm. I feel all inspired to rework my website and do the family section, now. If I can somehow stop commenting to
brabble's journal every 19 seconds.* Is that better than O for O-face, Sarah or does it now remind you of tampons? Hrm of course now it will. Um try to think of it as Obi-wan, k?
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