Na’viteri.org

Kaltxì, ma frapo!

Sìlpey oe, ayngaru livu fpom nìwotx.

It’s been a while since we’ve had any new vocabulary, slä nì’i’a, here are some new words I hope you’ll find useful.

First, one that’s long been missing but which you may have guessed at:

lìngtskxe (n., LÌNG.tskxe) ‘unobtanium’

This clearly comes from lìng ‘float’ + tskxe ‘rock.’

säfmong (n. sä.FMONG) ’theft (particular instance)’

We’ve already seen tìfmong, the abstract concept of theft. Säfmong is a particular instance of stealing.

Poeri säfmong lora tsafkxileyä lolu na ayskxe mì te’lan.
‘For her, the theft of that beautiful necklace was like stones in her heart.’

Srake lu ngay fwa tìfmong ke fkeytok kip Na’vi?
‘Is it true that theft does not exist among the Na’vi?’

kakan (adj., KA.kan) ‘rough’

Don’t confuse kakan with ekxtxu. Ekxtxu is rough in the physical sense, as in a rough surface as opposed to a smooth (faoi) one. Kakan is the opposite of flrr ‘gentle’ and refers to behavior. It’s used for both people and things.

Kakana aylì’uri a poltxe oel nìsti, tsap’alute.
‘I apologize for the rough words that I spoke in anger.’

nìkakan (adv., nì.KA.kan) ’roughly’

txaw (vtr.) ‘punish’

Sempulìl asìltsan sney evengit ke txaw nìkakan.
‘A good father doesn’t punish his children roughly.’

tìtxaw (n., tì.TXAW) ‘punishment’

ra’un (vtr., RA.’un, inf. 1,2) ’surrender, relinquish, give up’

It may seem we already have a word for ‘surrender, give up’—namely, velek. But the two words are different. Velek is vin.—intransitive, i.e., not taking an object. So to say, “I give up. I surrender. You win,” you use velek. On the other hand, ra’un is vtr. and takes an object: it refers to giving up or surrendering something:

Fìatxkxeti ke raya’un ayoel kawkrr!
‘We will never give up this land!’

tìra’un (n., tì.RA.’un) ’surrender, relinquishment’

Peyä tìra’un tìeyktanä leyewla lu nìtxan.
‘His surrender of leadership is very disappointing.’

’älek (adj, ’Ä.lek) ‘determined’

This refers to someone who has made a firm decision that is not subject to change.

Tìfläri lolu po ’älek.
‘She was determined to succeed.’

tì’älek (n., tì.’Ä.lek) ‘determination’

Peyä tì’älek oeru rolo’a nìtxan.
‘His determination impressed me greatly.’

nì’älek (adv., nì.’Ä.lek) ‘determinedly, with determination’

pung (vtr.) ‘hurt, injure’

This verb means the same as tìsraw seyki but has a simpler syntax.

Ngal perung oet fìfya pelun?
‘Why are you hurting me like this?’

Teya si oer fwa ngal pawnunga ayioangit zong.
‘It moves me that you save injured animals.’

lewng (n.) ‘shame’

Lewng is the opposite of nrra ‘pride.’

Munge fnawe’tul lewngit soaiaru sneyä.
‘A coward brings shame to his/her family.’

There are two different adjectival forms for ‘shameful’—one for people, one for things.

lelewng (adj., ofp, le.LEWNG) ‘shameful’

lewnga’ (adj., nfp, LEW.nga’) ‘shameful’

(Here, lewng + nga’ has coalesced to lewnga’.)

So: tute lelewng ‘a shameful person’ but voìk alewnga’, ‘shameful behavior.’

swapxì (n., swa.PXÌ) ‘family member’

This is a contraction of soaia + hapxì. The steps in the derivation are:

soaia + hapxì > soapxì > swapxì.

Ayswapxìl oeyä tok fìtsenget nìwotx.
‘All the members of my family are here.’

sweyn (vtr.) ‘keep, preserve’

Ayngal syuvet sweyn peseng fteke ayioang tsivun tsat kivanom?
‘Where do you keep the food so that animals can’t get it?’

Sweyn can also be used in the sense of ‘leave alone’ or ‘not disturb’:

Tsayayotsrulit sweyn, ma ’itan.
Don’t disturb that bird’s nest, son.

Oey fpomit sweyn!
‘Leave me alone! (I.e., ‘Do not disturb my peace!’)

(Recall that an equivalent version of the last example, using the verb txung ‘destroy, disrupt, bother,’ is:

Oey fpomit txung rä’ä!
‘Leave me alone!’ OR ‘Don’t bother me!’)

Finally, when you want to attract someone’s attention, how do you say ‘excuse me’ or ‘hey’ in Na’vi? There are three levels of politeness:

1. Addressing a stranger using honorific language:

manawmtu (intj., ma.NAWM.tu) ‘excuse me sir, excuse me madam’

Manawmtu, srake luyu ngenga eyktan fìolo’ä?
‘Excuse me, sir, are you the leader of this clan?

2. Addressing a stranger using neutral language, neither overly polite nor overly familiar:

matu (intj., ma.TU) ‘excuse me, hey’

Matu, ngal hawntsyokxit tìmungzup.
‘Excuse me, you just dropped your glove.’

3. Addressing someone you’re close to or superior to. Be careful with this, since in the wrong situation it can be impolite and rude (unless that’s your intention!).

manga (intj., ma.NGA) ‘hey, hey you’

Manga! Kempe si?
‘Hey! What are you doing?’

That’s it for now. I have some great material from members of the lì’fyaolo’ that I hope to publish soon. Tsakrrvay, makto zong, ma eylan.

Edit 01 Oct.: Tsayayotsrulit sweyn rä’ä –> Tsayayotsrulit sweyn + example with txung.   Irayo, ma Tekre!

Edit 20 July 2023: In the second example sentence: tìfkeytok –> fkeytok. Irayo, ma Zángtsuva!

Kaltxì, ma frapo!

The Great Na’vi Proverb and Idiom Contest is now history, and I’m delighted with the results! The insight and creativity that went into so many of the submissions impressed me to no end.

Irayo nìtxan to everyone who entered. I received a total of 19 forms, with the coding system working perfectly to ensure the anonymity of the entrants. Here are the codes, in numerical order, so you can check to make sure I saw your entry: 0003600, 301176, 1108012, 1211194, 1211948, 1983228, 2142013, 2154828, 2220182, 3264728, 3605005, 4152006, 4301986,4835789, 4974523, 5295292, 5305412, 7418529, 199454510

Below are the submissions I was particularly impressed with, the ones I thought best reflected Na’vi and Pandoran life and/or used the language the most creatively, and were also the most striking. These can now appear in any officially approved list of proverbs, idioms, or useful phrases. If your entry is among them, Seykxel sì Nitram! But if not, please don’t feel discouraged. Judging such contests is necessarily subjective, and different judges might well come up with different results. Also, since I now see how easy it is to set up such things, there will be other such contests. (I already have one in mind!) So if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. (Hmm. What would the Na’vi equivalent of that be?)

I’ll list the winners in each category in random order, including the code numbers, with no hierarchy implied. If your entry is here and you’d like to identify yourself either publicly in the comments or privately to me in an email (my-last-name AT marshall DOT usc DOT edu), please do so! Tìftxey pum ngeyä—the choice is yours, i.e., it’s up to you.

I should add that in a few cases I took the liberty of slightly altering the original submission and/or explanation. In those instances, I kept the original thought but tweaked the Na’vi a bit for better word usage, clarity, conciseness, or what I thought was improved rhythm and flow. I hope the authors won’t mind the editing. 😊 Also, I want to mention some things to a couple of the entrants, which I’ll do in the comments by addressing the code numbers.

Irayo nìmun, ma smuk! Ayngeyä tsulfä tìyawnsì fìlì’fyayä awngeyä oeru teya si.

ta P.

Proverbs

Kxìm utuftu fnawe’tu.
Entrant code: 0003600
Author’s explanation:
A coward commands from the canopy. That is, a real leader will have “boots on the ground” and will help out, whereas a coward will only tell people (from afar) what to do. Can be used to say, “If you’re not gonna help, then shut up!” with someone who is being extra bossy.

’Uori hìpey, kxawm ngaru ke ley.
Entrant code: 4835789
Author’s explanation:
If you hesitate doing something, it might not be important to you.
Of course, we often hesitate with things that are in fact important to us, because we’re afraid to fail. So this proverb is more meant/used as a motivation for someone hesitating, or even as a teasing to get someone into action: “Hey, if it’s important for you, then you have to just do it, even though it’s hard! If you don’t start now, maybe you don’t care enough.”

Spä skxawng sìn ’ana aflì.
Entrant code: 301176
Author’s explanation:
A fool jumps onto a thin vine.
Don’t engage in an unpromising and/or potentially risky cause. Example: Tsayerik terul ne ‘awkx. Spä skxawng sìn ’ana aflì. ‘That hexapede is running toward the cliff. Only a fool jumps onto a thin vine.’ This is a hunter telling their partner there is no use in pursuing the hexapede, since the danger is too great and the chance of success too small.

Hahaw nì’aw txo palukan smivon ngar.
Entrant code: 2220182
Author’s explanation:
Only sleep if you are familiar with the Thanator.
Don’t think you’re safe unless you’re aware of the danger. (It could create a false sense of safety.)

Ke kur fko fa kxetse.
Entrant code: 3605005
Author’s explanation:
One can’t hang by a tail.
Don’t rely on something/someone untrustworthy or useless, just as a Na’vi tail can’t be relied on to bear weight.

Idiomatic Expressions

(na) fwampop fkip fìwopx
Entrant code: 199454510
Author’s explanation:
(Like a) tapirus in the clouds
“Fish out of water”; something or someone out of their usual element or comfort zone.

’Awsiteng lu mefo lanay’ka.
Entrant code: 5305412
Author’s explanation:
They are a slinger (together).
A slinger is a Pandoran predator that’s actually not a single organism. It’s two creatures in a symbiotic relationship. One acts as the head, the other as the body. Calling two people a slinger praises how well they work together and complement each other: Tolaron mefol mesalioangit! Tewti, ‘awsiteng lu mefo lanay’ka. ‘They hunted two sturmbeest? Wow, they work very well together.’

(na) lanay’ka luke re’o
Entrant code: 2154828
Author’s explanation:
Like a slinger without a head—i.e., completely lost. Po maw kxitx muntxatuä ‘amefu na lanay’ka re’oluke. ‘After the death of his spouse, he felt completely lost.’

zawr (a) mì na’rìng
Entrant code: 1983228
Author’s explanation:
an animal cry in the forest
“Old news”, i.e., you can’t pass off an animal cry in the forest as something newsworthy because it’s present almost all the time. A: Srake ngal stolawm futa Tsenu Ralur mowan lu nìtxan? ‘Have you heard that Ralu has the hots for Tsenu?’ B: Zawr mì na’rìng, ma tsmuk! Tsat omum oel kintrro. ‘Old news, brother! I’ve known it for a week.’

Kxetse kì’ong!
Entrant code: 7418529
Author’s explanation:
Slow tail! [Short for Ngari kxetse kì’ong livu.]
That is, “Don’t get angry.” When the Na’vi get angry, their tails whip around, so “slow down your tail” is another way to say calm down.

yerik (a) mì yrrap
Entrant code: 2142013
Author’s explanation:
Hexapede in a storm: a metaphor or simile representing extreme panic, anxiety or timidity.

Kaltxì nìmun, ma frapo!

I hope you’ve been having fun coming up with new Na’vi proverbs and idioms. Now it’s time to submit your entries!

I used Google Forms to create the entry form. (Fingers crossed that I did it correctly!) You’ll find it here:

https://forms.gle/ctcwr11JM8KyG5j29

As you’ll see, I’ve asked you to enter a 7-digit code (example: 9272031) that will be unique to you. I’ll announce the winning entries via these codes, and then the winners can identify themselves.

You can submit either one proverb, or one idiom, or one of each.

Deadline for submission:
Saturday, 7 August 2021, midnight PDT (Pacific Daylight Time).

Furia tse’a aysäfpìlìt ayngeyä, srefereiey nìprrte’ nìngay!

ta P.

Kaltxì, ma frapo!

It’s been an unusually busy month for me, but the things I’ve been involved in have been quite interesting. Spaw oel futa fayu ayngane zayawprrte’ nìteng. 🙂

To kick off the second half of the year, I thought it would be fun to have another little contest, this time to create new proverbs and idiomatic expressions.

My idea is this: Entrants would contribute either one new proverb, one new idiomatic expression, or one of each. I’d receive the contributions anonymously, judge them, and announce the results. Entries will be judged on creativity, aptness, conciseness, and naturalness–that is to say, the sense that these proverbs and expressions evolved naturally among the Na’vi and often turn up in their conversation. Winning entries that I feel make the grade will become part of the official language and appear in our dictionaries.

Guidelines

Proverbs

These can be of three types.

Type 1: Proverbial expressions that uniquely reflect the Na’vi, their culture, and their environment. These could not have developed anywhere but on Pandora. Examples:

Kxetse sì mikyun kop plltxe.
‘The tail and ears also speak.’

Ätxäle si palukanur tsnì smarit livonu.
’Ask a thanator to release its prey.’

Txìm a’aw ke tsun hiveyn mì tal mefa’liyä.
‘One butt can’t sit on the backs of two direhorses.’

Type 2: Proverbial expressions that are not necessarily unique to Pandora and could have arisen elsewhere, but that play with the Na’vi language:

Kem amuiä, kum afe’.
‘Proper action, bad result.’

Fwäkì ke fwefwi.
 ‘A mantis doesn’t whistle.’

Payìl a lipx tskxeti ripx.
 ‘Dripping water pierces a stone.’

Txo ke nìyo’, tsakrr nìyol.
‘If you can’t be flawless, then be brief.’

Type 3: Proverbial expressions with the characteristics of both Type 1 and Type 2.

Note that the intended meaning of a proverb is not necessarily apparent at first glance. (What does “A mantis doesn’t whistle” mean?) But once it’s explained, it should feel natural. (In this example: ‘Don’t expect someone to do something that’s not in their nature.’)

Idiomatic expressions

These are brief conversational phrases unique to Pandora:

(na) loreyu ’awnampi
 ‘like a touched helicoradian’

pewn torukä
‘the Toruk’s throat’

sre fwa sngap zize’
‘before the hellfire wasp stings’

(na) kenten mì kumpay
‘like a fan lizard in gel’

With these idioms as well, the meanings may not be immediately apparent, but once explained, they should be clear and striking.

What do you think? Do you like this idea? If so, what’s the best way to implement this little contest? In particular, what’s the best way for me to receive the entries anonymously? I’m open to suggestions! Let me know your thoughts in the comments.

Hayalovay!

Edit to add: 10 July

Pìlok tolätxeiaw!!!

As some of you may have noticed, the blog was offline for a short time. It was due to a bureaucratic error, and getting the problem resolved was frustratingly difficult. But eventually it worked out. I am very relieved!

Fya’o angäzìk ne kum akosman. (‘All’s well that ends well.’) 🙂

Ma Eana Unil, ma Vawmataw, ma Plumps, ma Wind12, ayngeyä aysämokìri sì tìslanìri seiyi oe irayo. I agree that Google Forms is a good solution to the anonymous contribution question. I’m working on an appropriate form.

I’m glad you like the contest!

A bit more on -tu:

As we discussed, when -tu is attached to a verb, it sometimes indicates the person who is the object of the verb (like spe’etu and kiantu) and sometimes the subject (like snaytu and yora’tu). It may seem strange and unnatural that the same suffix can have two different and opposite functions. But in fact this kind of thing occurs in Earth languages as well—for example, in English!

Think of the words for people that end in stressed –ee. (There are a lot more of them than I would have thought! This paper lists 520 such forms, most of which were entirely new to me.) Here are some examples:

They employed her. She is an employee.
They appointed him. He is an appointee.
I tutor her. She is my tutee.
We nominated him. He is our nominee.

And many more.

Notice that these –ee words all refer to the object of the relevant verb.

But now take a look at these words:

He returned to his homeland. He is a returnee.
She stood at the concert. She was a standee.
He escaped from prison. He is an escapee.
She retired from work last year. She is a retiree.

These refer to the subject of the verb!

Eltxur tìtxen si, kefyak? 🙂

Kaltxì, ma frapo!

Just a few new words today, but I hope they’ll fill in some important gaps. And I’ll mention a few other things I think you’ll find useful as well.

NEW VOCABULARY

kian (vtr., ki.AN, inf. 1, 2) ‘blame’

Oeti kian rä’ä! Ke nolui oe!
Don’t blame me! It wasn’t my fault!

kiantu (n., ki.AN.tu) ‘blameworthy person’

Fìtìsnaytxìri lu ngeyä tsmukan kiantu.
‘Your brother is to blame for this loss.’

A word about kiantu: It may seem unusual, in that the -tu suffix is more frequently attached to an adjective or noun. (Examples: fnawe’tu ‘coward’ from fnawe’ ‘cowardly’; koaktu ‘old person’ from koak ‘old, aged’; kxutu ‘enemy’ from kxu‘harm’; pamtseotu ‘musician’ from pamtseo ‘music’; etc.) But in fact, -tu can attach to almost anything—typically an adjective or noun, but also a verb, and sometimes even an adposition (wätu ‘opponent’). Some examples of -tu with verbs:

snaytu ‘loser’ from snaytx ‘lose’
yora’tu ‘winner’ from yora’ ‘win’
spe’etu ‘captive’ from spe’e ‘capture
frrtu ‘guest’ from frrfen ‘visit’

So what’s the difference between -tu and -yu?

Yu is exclusively a verbal suffix–VERB + yu–that always means ‘the one performing the action of the verb,’ i.e., the agent. And it’s productive, in the same way that -er in English is.

Unlike –yu, however, -tu is not productive, so -tu words need to be listed in the dictionary. The meaning is not always predictable. The best we can say is: a -tu word refers to a person who is in some way associated with the base to which -tu is attached. In the case of snaytu and yora’tu, it’s the one performing the verb, i.e. the agent. In the case of spe’etu and kiantu, it’s the one receiving the action of the verb.

zin (adj.) ‘tangled’

Längu fayhìng zin nìwotx; ke tsun sat sivar.
‘Unfortunately, these threads are all tangled up; they can’t be used.’

tìzin (n., tì.ZIN) ‘a tangle(ment); mass of something twisted together’

tìzin si (vin.) ‘tangle, tangle up’

Nari si fteke ayturtelur tìzin sivi!
’Be careful not to tangle the ropes!’

kezin (adj., KE.zin) ‘untangled’

tìkezin (n., tì.KE.zin) ‘something in an untangled state, “untanglement,” solution’

Tsatìngäzìkìri tìkezin lu fyin.
‘The solution to that problem is simple.’

tìkezin si (vin.) ‘untangle; solve’

This si-verb can be used either literally, as in untangling twisted threads, or metaphorically, as in solving (= untangling) a problem.

Srake tsun nga fìingyentsimur tìkezin sivi?
‘Can you solve this riddle?’

tunu (adj., TU.nu) ‘romantic’

Ngari ’efu oe tunu.
‘I feel romantic towards you; I have romantic feelings for you.’

(NOTE: In colloquial conversation, the three consecutive vowels u-o-e cause the oe in ’efu oe to be pronounced in one syllable, as in oeti, oeri, oeru, oeta, etc.: It sounds like ‘efu we.)

Tunu refers to romantic feelings only, whereas yawne is more general. You can say Nga yawne lu oer to your spouse or romantic partner but also to your parents, siblings, children, beloved Platonic friends, pets, etc. But Ngari ’efu oe tunu is only used for romantic love and attraction.

Po yawne lu oer, slä pori ke ’efu oe tunu.
’I love him, but I don’t have romantic feelings for him.’

tìtunu (n., tì.TU.nu) ‘romance’

Awnga zenke tivung futa fìtìtunu vivar.
‘We must not allow this romance to continue.’

tunutu (n., TU.nu.tu) ‘object of desire, ”crush”’

Tunutu is different from yawntu / yawnetu. Your yawntu is your beloved, the person for whom you feel serious, mature, deep love. Your tunutu is your “crush,” someone you’re romantically attracted to. For example, your tunutu could be a movie star, while your yawntu would be your mate or spouse.

ABOUT PÌMTXAN:

A note about a word we’ve already seen, pìmtxan, which means ‘how much.’ It’s the noncountable equivalent of the word used for countables, polpxay ‘how many.’ Like polpxay, pìmtxan can be used as an adjective: polpxaya zìsìt ‘how many years’; pìmtxana pay ‘how much water.’ This means that alongside certain specific interrogative words like somwewpe ‘how hot,’ we also have structures like pìmtxana tìsom ‘how hot (= how much heat).’ The two versions are interchangeable.

SOME COLLOQUIAL OMISSIONS

In all languages, certain things can happen in casual, colloquial speech that wouldn’t be appropriate in more careful, formal styles. Na’vi is no exception. Note these examples of common omissions that occur in casual conversation. (You’re probably already familiar with them, but I wanted to gather them together in one place.)

(1) LU
More formal:              Nga lu pesu?               ‘Who are you?’
More colloquial:         Nga pesu?                   ‘Who are you?’

(2) TOK
More formal:              Pol tok pesenget?      ‘Where is he?’
More colloquial:         Pol pesenget?             ‘Where is he?
(Note that even when tok is omitted, the -l and -t case markings remain obligatory.)

(3) PUM
More formal:              Fìtsko lu pum oeyä.    ‘This bow is mine.’
More colloquial:         Fìtsko lu oeyä.             ‘This bow is mine.’

IMPORTANT: The shortened versions with the omitted words are not obligatory in casual conversation! They may occur, but they don’t have to occur.

That’s it for now. Hayalovay, ma eylan. Ulte . . .

’Awvea Trr Vospxìmrrä Lefpom!

Edit May 2: Tsatìngäzìkeri –> Tsatìngäzìkìri, Vospìmrrä –> Vospxìmrrä  Thanks, Vawmataw and Zángtsuva!
Edit May 7: Fìtìsnaytxeri –> Fìtìsnaytxìri  Irayo, ma Plumps!

Kaltxì, ma frapo!

We haven’t had any new vocabulary in quite a while, so this post will be a small step in that direction. Before anything, however, let me say a few words about lexical expansion in general.

As I consider new vocabulary, my thinking seems to organize itself into three categories:

Category 1: This is the most important one: filling in the gaps. What words and expressions needed for easy and effective communication are still missing? A good way to discover such gaps is for us to take notice every so often of what we’re saying and writing during the day, and think about how we would say the same things in Na’vi. We may discover major gaps, where it’s difficult or impossible to express something with the existing vocabulary, something for which Na’vi would most likely have a word. Or we may find we can get our thought across but only by using a clumsy circumlocution, where Na’vi would most likely have an efficient way to say the same thing. Of course, in many instances a lexical item needed for a situation on earth would not have evolved on Pandora, since the situation doesn’t exist there. (To talk about vaccinations, for example, we’d need to borrow terms from Earth languages or come up with creative workarounds.) But such situations aside, there are still plenty of native Na’vi words to discover that we can use to our advantage.

Category 2: Fine-tuning. One of the advantages of using a language with a huge vocabulary is the ability to fine-tune a thought. Think of how we can express the fact we really like something in English. We might say it’s great, excellent, wonderful, incredible, awesome, unbelievable, astounding, stupendous, miraculous, magnificent, superb, breathtaking, amazing, astonishing, fantastic, tremendous, marvelous, . . . Each term has its own particular shade of meaning. It’s true that such a proliferation isn’t necessary to get the basic idea across. (In George Orwell’s famous vision of a frightening dystopia, 1984, “Newspeak” makes do with only three words to express the whole gamut of goodness: good, plusgood, and doubleplusgood.) But having a rich variety of terms in the same semantic range adds color, precision, and individual personality to our expression. While it’s not a priority, Na’vi would benefit from more such terms, each with its own set of associations and ranges of applicability.

Category 3: Words and expressions particular to Pandora and Na’vi life and experience, terms not found in other languages. This is perhaps the most interesting, thought-provoking, and fun category. The most obvious examples are the words for flora and fauna found only on Pandora, and for specifically Na’vi body parts like kuru, tswin, and pil. But there are also words for actions, ideas, experiences, and feelings that are particular to the Na’vi: tsaheylu, meoauniaea, ’onglawn, etc. Also in this category are idioms and sayings like na loreyu ’awnampi and Txo ke nìyo’ tsakrr nìyol. These words and expressions reflect the environment and culture of the Na’vi and give the language much of its uniqueness.

All that being said, let’s move on to today’s new words and expressions:

pe’ngay (vin., pe’.NGAY, inf. 1, 1) ‘judge, conclude’

This word derives from pe’un ‘decide’ + ngay ‘true.’ To draw a conclusion is to decide that something is true. It’s used with tsnì:

Pori keyrelfa oe pole’ngay tsnì ke new ziva’u.
‘From her expression, I concluded that she didn’t want to come.’

Derivations:

tìpe’ngay (n., ti.pe’.NGAY) ‘conclusion’

(Note: Don’t confuse tìpe’ngay with tì’i’a, which is also glossed as ‘conclusion.’ The former refers to a determination, the latter to a termination. 🙂 )

pe’ngayyu (n., pe’.NGAY.yu) ‘judge’

wrrzärìp (vtr., wrr.ZÄ.rìp, inf. 2, 3) ‘pull out, extract’

Pol tstalit wrrzolärìp tstalsenaftu.
‘He pulled the knife out of its sheath.’

This word is the basis for some common idioms:

txe’lanti wrrzärìp ‘to greatly move emotionally’ (lit.: ‘to pull out the heart’)

Oeri peyä aylì’ul txe’lanti wrrzolärìp.
‘Her words moved me greatly.’

tìpe’ngayt wrrzärìp ‘infer’

To infer is to pull out a conclusion from something seen or stated.

Ngey aylì’uftu wrrzärìp oel tìpe’ngayt a lu ngar yewla.
‘From your words, I infer that you’re disappointed.’

tìpe’ngayt wrrzeykärìp: ‘imply’

Here the causative <eyk> form of the verb is used. To imply is to cause someone to infer something—that is, to cause them to pull out a conclusion from something seen or stated.

Ngey aylì’ul wrrzeykärìp tìpe’ngayt a lu ngar yewla.
‘Your words imply that you’re disappointed.’

Among English speakers, “imply” and “infer,” which are not synonymous, are often used incorrectly. Hopefully the distinction is clearer in Na’vi!

lewn (vtr.) ‘endure, stand, tolerate’

Peyä tìrusolit ke tsun oe livewn.
‘I can’t stand her singing.’

Hufwa tìsraw lu txan, tsun ayoe tsat livewn.
‘Although the pain is great, we can endure it.’

ketsuklewn (adj., ke.tsuk.LEWN) ‘intolerable, unacceptable’

(Note: Even though ketsuk- is productive, some forms with it are so frequent that they’re listed in the dictionary, like ketsuktiam.)

Tsafnevoìk lu ketsuklewn.
‘That kind of behavior is intolerable.’

tsukanom (adj., tsu.KA.nom) ‘available, obtainable’

This word developed from tsuk- ‘receptive capability’ + kanom ‘get, obtain.’ Note that kk > k.

Tsayfasuk tsukanom lu krrka fìzìsìkrr nì’aw.
‘Those berries are available during this season only.’

And something perhaps more likely to be said ’Rrtamì,

Wä fìsäspxin a ’umtsa leiu set tsukanom.
Medicine against this disease is happily now available.

ketsukanom (adj., ke.tsu.KA.nom) ‘unavailable, unobtainable’

tìtsukanom (n., tì.tsu.KA.nom) ’availability’

The next two terms both refer to a key point of a presentation or argument, but in different senses.

txinfpìl (n., TXIN.fpìl) ‘main point’

From txin ‘main, primary’ + säfpìl ‘idea.’ This word refers to the primary idea or thesis statement of a presentation or argument.

Oel ngeyä txinfpìlit mi ke tslam.
‘I still don’t understand your main point.’

ngrrfpìl (n., NGRR.fpìl) ‘key assumption’

From ngrr ‘root’ + säfpìl ‘idea.’ This word refers to a basic assumption that underlies a presentation or argument.

Nìlaw lu peyä ngrrfpìl fwa Sawtute ke lu mal.
‘His assumption is clearly that the Skypeople can’t be trusted.’

sätarenga’ (adj., sä.TA.re.nga’, colloquially pronounced STA.re.nga’) ‘relevant, pertinent’

From sätare ‘connection’ + -nga’ ‘having, containing.’

Tsasäplltxeviri asätarenga’ irayo.
‘Thanks for that pertinent comment.’

kesätarenga’ (adj., ke.sä.TA.re.nga’, colloquially pronounced ke.STA.re.nga’) ‘irrelevant’

letut (adj., le.TUT) ‘constant, continual’

lukftang (adj. luk.FTANG) ‘constant, continual’

These are two near-synonyms that can be used more or less interchangeably, although lukftang is somewhat stronger than letut.

Peyä tìpuslltxel alukftang/letut oeti srätx.
‘His constant talking annoys me.’

That’s it for now. Hayalovay, ma smuk. And for those who celebrate, Happy Passover, Happy Easter . . . ulte Lefpoma Trr Ayskxawngä a mì Vospxìtsìng! 😀

Edit 01 April: *pe’ngayt –> tìpe’ngayt (2x)  Irayo, ma Pamìrìk!
Edit 01 April: *tsafnezoìk –> tsafnevoìk, *Wäfìsäspxin –> Wä fìsäspxin  Irayo, ma Plumps!

Kaltxì nìmun, ma frapo! Sìlpey oe, ayngaru livu fpom nìwotx.

It’s too late to say Mipa Zìsìt Lefpom, but perhaps not too early to wish you Zìskrrmipaw Lefpom. Spring is officially still three weeks away, but here in Los Angeles it feels as if it’s already arrived. Blossoms and young leaves are on the trees, the weather is warm, and after a horrible start to the year, it feels as if we’re finally ready for a new beginning. The pandemic situation here seems to be getting a little better as well. John and I just received our second shots of COVID vaccine (there are a few advantages to being “of a certain age” 😊 ) and we’re feeling very fortunate indeed. I hope things are improving wherever you are as well.

From time to time, I receive emailed questions relating to Na’vi. Let me share some recent ones with you, along with my answers.

Q: You’ve stated that the patientive (objective) ending after -ey is either -t or -ti. But we’ve seen examples where it was -it. Is that correct as well?
A: No. There are two cases we know of where the t and i were incorrectly transposed. But a word like kifkey is, in the patientive case, either kifkeyt or kifkeyti, not *kifkeyit.

Q: The verb tawng (vin.) is listed in the dictionary as ‘duck, dive.’ Is it (a) ‘dive’ in the sense of jumping into water to swim, or (b) strictly the action of jumping or throwing yourself to the ground?
A: It’s (a). Tawng refers to jumping into water. It could be used for jumping into water from the outside, as Olympic divers do off a diving board, or it could also be used when you’re already swimming in the water and want to dive down deeper. A typical phrase would be, tawng nemfa pay, ‘dive into the water.’

Q: To say, “Hello to my young friends in Germany,” we can say:
(1) Kaltxì oeyä ’ewana eylanur a tok Toitslanti.
But can we also say it this way?
(2) Kaltxì oeyä eylanur a’ewan a tok Toitslanti.
A: Yes. This is an exception to the rule that two “connecting a’s” can’t be on the same side of the noun—that is, that a must be adjacent to the noun being modified. For example, for “five big black cats” we can’t say *mrra palukantsyìp atsawl alayon but rather mrra palukantsyìp atsawl sì layon. However, when a connects not a simple adjective but a relative clause, that clause doesn’t always have to be adjacent to the noun it modifies. We’ve had a number of precedents for this structure. For example: . . . ulte Na’viru set lu nawma eyktan amip a larmu Tawtute, ‘and the Na’vi now had a great new leader who was a Skyperson.’

Q: What is the ordinal form of zam?
A: It’s zave. Here’s a set of reference tables that gives the cardinal and ordinal forms of numbers. For completeness, I’ve also included charts for personal pronouns and verb forms.

4 Tables

Q: Does the rule about sno that you announced in the last post hold up?
A: Unfortunately, no. The situation is more complex than I had initially thought, and the rule needs to be modified. Interestingly, there’s a somewhat parallel situation in Latin (!), which has two possessive pronouns, eius and suus, that correspond to Na’vi’s peyä and sneyä respectively. I asked my friend who’s a noted Classics professor to send me some textbook material on how those words are used and distinguished in Latin; I now have many pages of complicated grammatical discussion, which may throw light on the Na’vi situation. So stay tuned. I hope to be able to clarify the question in the not-too-distant future.

Finally, some of you who attended OmatiCon online early this year may have seen and heard my Zoom presentation on SLA—Second Language Acquisition—which I illustrated with a little sample Na’vi lesson. If you missed it, it’s available on YouTube here. I enjoyed doing it, and I hope it was fun for the participants.

Hayalovay, ma eylan.

Edit March 2: In 3rd question, friend –> friends

Kaltxì, ma frapo.

From time to time I receive emails from members of the lì’fyaolo’, asking for clarification about certain aspects of Na’vi. The questions often demonstrate a lot of insight into the language and help me clarify and deepen my own understanding. I’d like to share a few of those more recent inquiries with you here, along with my responses. Sìlpey oe, ayngari faysìpängkxotsyìp eltur tìtxen sìyevi!

’Awvea Tìpängkxotsyìp: Does the modal verb new ‘want’ have a causative form neykew?

(Note: The original version of this discussion was posted to LearnNa’vi on Nov. 29.)

New is a modal, but it’s also a vtr, a transitive verb. There are six such “dual function” verbs in our current dictionaries, labeled either vtrm or (a) vtr and (b) modal:

fmi                  ‘try’
kan                 ‘aim, intend’
may’               ‘try, taste, sample’
new                ‘want’
nulnew          ‘prefer’
sto                  ‘refuse’

In the case of new, how would you say, for example, ‘I want to dance’? The dual nature of this verb means you have a choice:

1. 1. Oe new srivew. (new used as a modal)
   2. Oel new futa srew. (new used as a vtr)

A is more common, but B is certainly possible. (By the way, B is also the only way to have the “wanter” and the dancer be different: To say, ‘I want you to dance,’ it’s got to be Oel new futa nga srew.) Note that after futa in such constructions, we don’t need <iv> on the verb, although it’s not wrong to have it. (See the next section below!)

So far so good. Now . . . how do we convert this to a causative construction? How would we say, for example, ‘This music makes me want to dance?’

Well first of all, the causative infix <eyk> doesn’t go with modals. So it’s the B version that gets “causativized,” not the A version.

Second, the causer—the one making something happen—is always in the agentive case. Our wonderful Horen Lì’fyayä leNa’vi states the rule clearly:

6.11.2. Causative of Transitive Verb. When a transitive verb is made into a causative, the causee, which had been in the agentive case, goes into the dative. This leaves the original accusative in place.

Applying this rule to B, and realizing that “the original accusative” here is futa, we get:

Fìpamtseol oeru neykew futa srew.
‘This music makes me want to dance.’

The new agent here, with the l case marker, is fìpamtseol ‘this music’: it’s the music that’s making something happen!

Muvea Tìpängkxotsyìp: Is the <iv> infix used with the complements of modal verbs?

This question is related to the previous one.

Recall that for ‘I want to dance,’ we have two equivalent versions:

A. Oe new srivew.                                  (new used as a modal)
B. Oel new futa srew.                             (new used as a vtr)

But is there a third version as well? What about:

C. Oel new futa srivew.              (new used as a vtr)

C is indeed possible, but it merits some explanation.

There was a time in the early days of Na’vi when I would have used the C version exclusively. As my feeling for Na’vi evolved over the years, however, I realized that with fwa and futa, the bare verb will do just fine. For example:

Sunu oer fwa srew.
‘I like to dance.’

That is, literally, ‘The dance-thing brings me enjoyment.’ Today I would judge *Sunu oer fwa srivew as ungrammatical, since it would be saying the equivalent of ‘The might-dance-thing brings me enjoyment.’

With the dual-function verbs, however, the situation is a little different. The A and B versions of our ‘want to dance’ sentence are the most expected versions in Na’vi. But given that the simple version A is much more common than B, there’s “analogical pressure” on B for the verb to conform, and so we get C, a pattern which, for these verbs, is also considered correct.

By the same token, we have both:

D. Oel new futa nga srew.
‘I want you to dance.’

and

E. Oel new futa nga srivew.
‘I want you to dance.’

[EDIT 28 Feb: THIS SECTION NEEDS TO BE REVISED. The Koren stated towards the end is incomplete. Further discussion will appear in a subsequent post.]
Pxeyvea Tìpängkxotsyìp: What can the pronouns po and sno refer to?

Let’s begin with an English example:

F. John thinks that Bill likes his car.

The question is, whose car is it that Bill likes—John’s car or his own (= Bill’s) car? I think most English speakers would say that without any context, the referent of “his” is ambiguous: it could be either one. But what about this slightly modified version:

G. John thinks that Bill likes his own car.

I think most people would say that G is no longer ambiguous: it has to be Bill’s own car.

In Na’vi, sno, in all its forms, works somewhat like ‘his/her own’ in English. Take a look at these examples:

H. Ateyol fpìl futa Ralul peyä tsmuket ve’kì.
‘Ateyo thinks that Ralu hates his sister.’

I. Ateyol fpìl futa Ralul sneyä tsmuket ve’kì.
‘Ateyo thinks that Ralu hates his sister.’

Although the English translation is ambiguous, the Na’vi sentences are not: In H, it’s Ateyo’s sister. In I, it’s Ralu’s own sister.

For those who like technical linguistic rules, here’s a Koren a teri tsalì’u alu sno, a rule about the word sno:

Sno, in all its forms, can only refer back to a noun phrase within the same clause.

In particular, sno in a subordinate clause can’t refer to a noun phrase in the main clause. This means that in I, sneyä, being in a subordinate clause, can only refer to Ralu, a noun phrase in that clause. It can’t refer to Ateyo, which is in the main clause.

Tsìvea Tìpängkxotsyìp: When are final stops unreleased?

Here’s an interesting pronunciation question:

We know that stops are liable to be unreleased under certain conditions but are wondering about the exact scope of this rule. In particular:

1. 1. Are they unreleased only at the end of a word, or at the end of every syllable (as seems to be more common in human languages that do this)?
   2. Does this rule include the glottal stop?

First, a little linguistics. 😊

What’s the difference between a consonant sound (C) and a vowel sound (V)?

The answer is that with V’s, the air flow through the vocal tract is not blocked; the air flows freely. With C’s, there’s some blockage that restricts the flow of air. Sometimes the blockage is only partial, as in the case of s, z, f, v, etc. With those sounds, the passage for the airflow is narrowed, creating friction and a characteristic sound. (The sounds I just listed are in fact called fricatives. 😄) Sometimes, however, the blockage is complete, and the airflow is momentarily stopped. And guess what: the C’s that do this are called stops! As you might imagine, there’s more to this story, but that’s the basic idea.

In Na’vi, the stops are k, p, t, kx, px, tx, and ’, the glottal stop.

Now as you know, when three of these stops—namely, k, p, and t—occur at the end of a word, they’re “unreleased.” As I think I’ve mentioned before, this phenomenon occurs optionally in English. If I say, “What’s up?” I can either “explode” the p, releasing the air that’s been trapped, or not release it, keeping my mouth closed. The sound is a bit different in each case. In proper Na’vi, these final stops are unreleased.

With that background, what about question 1? If k, p, and t are non-final (that is, not at the end of a word), can they still be at the end of a syllable? Yes they can, but only if they’re followed by another consonant. For example, k, p, and t are syllable-final in nik.re, txep.mì, and ’ok.trr. They’re not syllable final in a.kum, tsa.po, and nì.teng. When they are syllable-final, as in the first group, they’re unreleased as if they’re word-final.

As for the second question, in my experience I’ve never heard “released” and “unreleased” applied to the glottal stop. Take the word olo’. Do you hear a difference between a released and an unreleased tìftang? I’m not sure what a released glottal stop would sound like. But if there is a difference, it would follow the same rules as for k, p, and t.

Mrrvea Tìpängkxotsyìp: How is fpap used?

Finally, a correction:

In the previous post, I gave this example for the vtr fpap ‘pound’:

J. *Krra sti nìtxan, pol mesyokxit fpap sìn fyanyo.
‘When he’s angry, he pounds his hands on the table.’

Some astute readers asked if it shouldn’t be:

K. Krra sti nìtxan, pol fyanyot fpap fa mesyokx.
‘When he’s angry, he pounds the table with his hands.’

The question is, when you pound something, what exactly are you pounding—your hands, or some external object?

I see in retrospect that that example I gave, J, was clearly influenced by English, since in English we can say both “He pounded the table with his hands” and “He pounded his hands on the table.” But that seems to be unusual; I don’t know of other languages where that happens. (If anyone does, please let me know!) Although I’m not positive, I assume that at some point in the history of English, some kind of semantic shift occurred, where the grammatical object of “pound” could be either the external object that gets pounded or the instrument of pounding. But that’s English, and there’s no reason to think such a shift occurred in Na’vi as well. So K represents the correct use of fpap, and I’ve corrected the example in the previous post.

For this unusual holiday season, ma eylan, I wish you all the best celebrations you can manage lefkrra tìfkeytokmì.

Please stay safe, everyone . . . ulte makto zong.

Kaltxì, ma frapo.

Krrka lekye’unga faysrr, sìlpey oe, livu ayngaru fpom nìwotx.

It’s been a while since we’ve had any new vocabulary, so here are some lexical items along with a few idiomatic expressions that I hope you’ll find useful.

First, for the record, let me mention three terms you’ve seen already that belong in the dictionary:

nìtstew (adv., nì.TSTEW) ‘bravely, courageously’

txantxewm (adj., TXAN.txewm) ‘terrifying’

sätseri (n., sä.TSE.ri) ’observation, something noticed’

Ngeyä tsasätseriri a eltur tìtxen si irayo.
‘Thank you for that interesting observation of yours.’

Now for some new terms:

voìk (n., VO.ìk) ‘behavior, how one conducts oneself’

Nga sìlmi a tsakem ke lu voìk amuiä!
‘What you just did was not proper behavior!’

voìk si (vin., VO.ìk si) ’behave’

Neytiril Tsyeykur oeyktolìng teyngta fyape zene voìk sivi tsatìfkeytokmì.
’Neytiri explained to Jake how to behave in that situation.’

mu’ni (vtr., MU’.ni) ‘accomplish, achieve’

Although there is some overlap, the difference between mu’ni and hasey si ‘accomplish, bring to a conclusion’ is that hasey si can refer to finishing anything at all, significant or not, while mu’ni is used for achievements that are in some way significant.

Note: Don’t confuse mu’ni with mun’i ‘cut.’ The pronunciations of these two verbs are quite different, both in the position of the tìftang and the stress patterns.

Krrka tìrey ayol, pol molu’ni pxaya ayut a tsranten.
‘During her short life, she accomplished many important things.’

Hasey si fura yom!
‘Finish eating!’ (Do you see why fura is used here? 😊 )

tìmu’ni (n., tì.MU’.ni) ‘achievement, accomplishment’

leha’ (adj., le.HA’) ‘appropriate, suitable, fitting’

This word clearly comes from the verb ha’ ‘fit, suit.’ It differs from muiä ‘proper’ in that muiä has the connotation of honorable, moral, or fair; leha’ simply refers to something that fits or is appropriate to a particular individual or situation.

Fori tsafnetìkusar ke lu leha’.
‘That kind of teaching isn’t appropriate for them.’

swaran (adj., SWA.ran) ‘humble, modest, self-effacing’

Tsamsiyu asìltsan lu tstew släkop swaran.
‘A good warrior is courageous but also humble.’

tìswaran (n., tì.SWA.ran) ‘humility, humbleness’

yewn (vtr.) ‘express, convey (a thought or feeling)’

Oe new oey sì’efut yivewn poeru, slä ke tsängun.
‘I want to express my feelings to her, but, sadly, I can’t.’

tìyewn (n., tì.YEWN) ‘expression’

(Don’t confuse this word with lì’fyavi, which also means ‘expression’ but in the sense of ‘bit of language.’)

Note the idiom:

tìyewn tìyawnä ‘an expression of love.’ It’s a set phrase used when giving a gift to a loved one or making a gesture of affection like a kiss or caress.

leytslam (vtr., LEY.tslam, inf. 2, 2) ‘appreciate’

As you see, this word is a compound of ley ‘have value’ and tslam ‘understand.’ When you appreciate something, you understand or acknowledge its value.

Ngeyä faylì’ut atìtstunwinga’ oel leytslam, ma ’eylan.
‘I appreciate your kind words, friend.’

fpap (vtr.) ‘pound’

The difference between takuk and fpap is that while takuk means ‘strike,’ fpap implies striking heavily and repeatedly.

Krra sti nìtxan, pol fyanyot fpap fa mesyokx.
‘When he’s angry, he pounds the table with his hands.’

syar (vin.) ‘stick, stick to, adhere’

Rìk a’aw syarmar sìn kxemyo.
‘A leaf was sticking to the wall.’

Note that syar is intransitive. For the transitive sense of ‘stick’—that is, to stick something onto something else—simply insert the causative infix <eyk>:

Pol kxumpaysyarit solar syeykar rìkit sìn kxemyo.
‘She stuck the leaf onto the wall with glue.’
(More literally: ‘She used glue (and then) stuck the leaf onto the wall.’)

kxumpaysyar (n., KXUM.pay.syar) ‘glue’

(Recall that kxumpay means ‘viscous liquid.’)

And a word specific to a unique Pandoran experience:

’onglawn (n., ’ONG.lawn) ‘exhiliration of first bonding’

This word, a compound of ’ong ‘blossom’ and lawnol ‘great joy,’ refers to the euphoric feeling of first bonding with something, particularly an ikran, when the first flight seals the bond. (Fìsäfpìlìri akosman seiyi irayo, ma Ney!) It’s used with ’efu:

Kawkrr ke tswaya’ oel krrit a ’efu ’onglawnit.
‘I’ll never forget the time I experienced ’onglawn.’

Lu ’onglawn tì’efu akosman frato mì hifkey.
‘’Onglawn is the most wonderful feeling in the world.’

Finally, some useful, if straightforward, expressions:

1. ‘Would you mind if . . . ?’   Srake srätx (ngat) txo . . . _<iv>_ . . . ?
2. ‘I don’t mind if . . . ’             Ke srätx (oet) txo . . .
3. ‘Not at all!’                     …… (a) Ke srätx kaw’it!
                                             ……(b) Kea säsrätx kaw’it!
    …………………………………….(c) Kehe kaw’it!

The pronouns in parentheses may be omitted.

A: Srake srätx txo oel ngey fkxilet zasrivìn?
….‘Would you mind if I borrowed your necklace?’
B: Kehe kaw’it!
….‘Not at all!’

By the way, in the combination srätx txo, don’t try to pronounce the two ejectives separately! They merge into one slightly prolonged tx.

And with that, I’ll say kìyevame for now. Hang in there, everyone. Livu Eywa awngahu nìwotx!

ta Pawl

Edit 12/23: Example sentence for fpap corrected. See the following post (Dec. 23). Irayo, ma Plumps!