luumii

Audio with Theyab's pronunciation

Trying to write Arabic words using the Western alphabet is a nothing short
of a bugbear. Take today's word for instance, in Arabic it's spelt لومي and never
changes. But when translated into English, it becomes: luumii, loomi, loomy,
lumii, lumi and so on.

waayid yinarfiz.

Bugbears aside, let's move onto sweeter things, or sweet, bitter and smoky things.
Black limes. The magic bhaar of the desert.

Ripe green limes are picked from the shajarah, boiled in salt water then left on
biSaaT to dry for hours in the sun. Once crisp and black, a whole luumii might
infuse its sweet tang into a slow-cooked stew, or be ground to a spice and blended
with water to make a light fragrant tea, served piping hot or iced.

Perhaps the greatest thing about luumii is that outside the Persian Gulf region,
it is still a secret and its potential to add cryptic and beautiful flavours to shrimp,
lamb and Basmati rice remains unknown. It's true that luumii is hard to find
in Europe - but not impossible. Avoid buying the powder though - the flavour peaks
the moment it's smashed. So buy the fruit whole and be the one to do the smashing.

In the words of a sage, this strange fruit can do nothing short of "bring a dish to life."

On a separate note, make way for an amazing grammatical pun using today's word,
copyright the Kuwaiti Meme Guy. A sack of dried luumii is available for any
non-Arabic speaker who can make sense of it:

وايد ينرفز	waayid yinarfiz	Very frustrating
بهار	bhaar	Spice
شجرة	shajarah	Tree
لومي	biSaaT	Plastic sheet
ولا	wala	Or
لومچ	luum-ich	Your lime*
واااااااااك	waaaaaaaak	Hahahaha

*luum-ich is a fake word that is composed of the equally fake word luum with the feminine possessive

-ich tacked on to the end. The joke is that the ending of the real word luumii sounds like it could be

the first person possessive -ii, as in luum-ii which doesn't mean anything. So the Kuwaiti guy is showing

off (and trying to impress a girl) by joking with her, "luum-ii or luum-ich?"

alaagii

Audio with Theyab's pronunciation

During my last ijaazah in Kuwait, I was looking at Theyab's family book
majmuu:ah for a text about the country's history.

When abuu-h saw me, he said: "I have a book you can read. khal-ii-nii
alaagii-h."

His choice, Forty Years in Kuwait told the remarkable story of how a young
English woman became the wife of the British ambassador to Kuwait
during the discovery of an-naft.

Leaving friends and family behind, Violet Dickson took a boat to France
then boarded the Orient Express bound for Istanbul. When arriving in Basra
no train track existed into Kuwait, so one of the very few cars available
back in 1930s drove her from the Iraqi border to Kuwait City.

Dickson braved searing Kuwaiti summers in times when the closest thing to
air conditioning was opening ad-dariishah. With her husband often absent
and loved ones far away, a solitary life in the desert might have been enough
to break her resolve, but Dickson set about learning Arabic as well as making
friends among the local Bedouin people, often using her position to rally 
on their behalf to the Emir.

Dickson lived for over sixty years in Kuwait until her death in 1991. She lived with
the Kuwaitis through the rapid transformation of the country as adobe houses
became skyscrapers, and was beloved of them.

Theyab's father's generation remember Violet Dickson - my generation hardly so.
So here is a salute to a voice that is fading from collective memory,
to her contribution and not least, to her impressive command of a language
foreign to her, as can be seen in the video below:

إجازة	ijaazah	Holiday
مجموعة	majmuu:ah	Collection
أبوه	abuu-h	His father
خليني	khal-ii-nii	Let me (lit. let to you (f) me)
النفت	an-naft	Oil
بيت	bayt	House
الدريشة	ad-dariishah	The window
صبر شوية	Sabr shwayyah	Wait a little bit
لازم	laazim	I have to

الرقي	alaagii	I find
تلرقي	tlaagii	You find (>m)
تلرقين	tlaagiin	You find (>f)
تلرقون	tlaaguun	You find (>pl)
نلرقي	nlaagii	We find
يلرقي	ylaagii	He finds
تلرقي	tlaagii	She finds
يلرقون	ylaaguun	They find

maa yijuuz

Audio with Theyab's pronunciation

When something seems outrageous to you, how do you express that dismay,

that shock, in Kuwaiti Arabic?

Welcome to today's phrase of the day - maa yijuuz.

Maybe someone politely asks you idha kaan mumkin and your mischievous
streak takes over. Nope, maa yijuuz you might reply.

This phrase is particularly useful when your inner diva strikes ... and we're all
looking at today's Kuwaiti meme guy here. He returns from work, sees
a dinner of baarid salad waiting for him. His face pales, lip trembles -
he can't hold back:

اذا كان ممكن	idha kaan mumkin	If it’s possible
عشا	:ashaa	Dinner
بارد	baarid	Cold

kilish milish

Audio with Theyab's pronunciation

For our Friday round-up:

It seems that i may have a weakness for the aS-Suut of actor Matthew McConaughey.
Something that Theyab is less than happy about.

"widd-ich that you are married to Matthew McConaughey?" he asks one day.

"laa, killish millish!" I laugh. "Not after his Oscars' speech! Anyway, do you
have mashaarii: to have a second wife?"

Cue a long, awkward pause.

"ukhdh-ay raaH-tich, Habiibtii," he says. "It's not legal to marry virtual assistants. Yet."

لا	laa	No
حبيبتي	Habiibtii	Darling
مابي	maabii	I don’t want
اسوي	asawii	I do
المواعين	al-muwaa:iin	The washing up

raa7ah

Audio with Theyab's pronunciation

When I started learning to read Arabic, I was horrified to discover that most

words are written without some of their letters.

Take for instance, yesterday's word: mashaarii:-kum. In Arabic it is written like

this مشاريعكم but if you literally translated this word into English, letter for letter,

it would look like this: mshaarii:-kum.

So what happened to the missing letters?

Once upon a time, Arabic words were actually written with all their letters,

but the language gradually evolved to include just consonants and long vowels -

aa, ii, uu.

So what happened to the short vowels, a, i, u? And how can people read their

own language when some of the letters in each word are simply not there? 

As you can perhaps tell, right now I'm far from muriiH. I might need istiraaHah

from learning. Even the people closest to me tell me "akhidh-ay raaHt-ich!" 

So raaH artaaH and tell you the secret to understanding written Arabic,

in spite of its missing letters.

If you look at today's word, and then at the table below, you'll notice that

the first four words have something in common; they all contain the letter r

and the letter H. This is called a root. Any words with those same consonants

have a similar meaning.

The root r-H is always related to comfort, resting, relaxation.  A good root 
to know if ever I need to defend my taste for laziness.

مريح	muriiH	Comfortable
الستراحة	al-istiraaHah	A break, rest area
اخذي راحتچ	akhidh raaHt-ik	Relax! (>f)
راح ارتاح	raaH artaaH	I’m going to relax
صعب	Sa:ab	Difficult
بس احب	bas aHib	I just like

mashaarii3-kum

Audio with Theyab's pronunciation

ta:arifuun :an Silk City ?

Recently, the buzz around this 25 billion Kuwaiti dinar mashruu: ($90 billion)

has all but vanished into the ether, but a recent drive along the north coast of

Kuwait indicated that al-shughul on the Boubyan Island site is in full swing.

In other words, armed soldiers stopped our car and asked us politely that
nchaywur.

Still, there is no sign that the City will be even vaguely functional any time soon.
So if you happen to visit Kuwait in 22nd century and someone asks you
and yours "What are mashaarii:-kum this weekend?" undoubtedly some big shot
investor is hoping you'll say:

"We're all going to madiinaat al-Hariir: of course!"

تعرفون	ta:arifuun	Do you know (>group)?
عن	:an	About
مشروع	mashruu:	Project
الشغل	ash-shughul	Work
نچيور	nchaywur	U-turn
مدينة الحرير	madiinat al-Hariir	Silk City
سمعتو	sima:-taw	Do you hear (>group)?
عجيب	:ajiib	Amazing

widd-ik?

Audio with Theyab's pronunciation

Today's word comes with a question: how do you make a wish
in Arabic?

Say you're speaking to a boy and you ask him:

widd-ik Hilm-ik yitHaqaq ?

or:

"Do you wish your dreams came true?"

widd is the verb used to express 'wish' and the ending -ik
is the masculine possessive. widd-ik literally means 'do you wish'
(or a more authentic translation in English is 'what if...')
when talking to a male.

The same goes with the word for dreams, Hilm. If you want to 
say 'your dreams' when talking to a male, once again, you add on
the masculine possessive to make Hilm-ik.

So when you want to express you and your, referring to a male, 
always add -ik to the end of the verb or noun. Example:

hela muhammad, shlawn-ik? 

or:

Hi Mohammad, how are you?

However, if you're aiming your question at a female and you use
-ik, they'll be a lot of chuckling. I cannot count the times that I've got
mixed up and referred to boys with the female possessive and
vice versa. It's the equivalent of referring to your macho brother
John as 'she' or your petite, chic mother as 'he.'

So when speaking to females, use the possessive -ich. How does
that look in a sentence? widd-ich Hilm-ich yitHaqaq?

Finally, if you're asking two or more people the same question,
use the possessive -kum. Example:

Theyab wa kayt, widd-kum Hilm-kum yitHaqaq...?

All this grammar is putting the Kuwaiti meme guy in a dark mood -
as you will soon find out.

ودك	widd-ik	What if… (to a male)
ودچ	widd-ich	What if… (to a female)
ودكم	widd-kum	What if… (to a group
الحين	al-Hiin	Now
تبتدي	tabtidii	It starts
حرب	Harb	War
العالمية	al-:aalamiyyah	World
الثالثة	ath-thaalthah	Third

a9-9awt

Audio with Theyab's pronunciation

Most mornings, I begin by asking Theyab: "tigdr tsajil-l-ii 9awt-ik?" so I can hear and learn the sounds of Kuwaiti Arabic.

But today's word doesn't just mean someone's voice: Suut is a formof traditional music found in Kuwait and Bahrain, originally performed with an oud, a mirwas and a violin.

9awt is only performed at night among gatherings of men for the samrah or nightly chat. During the performance, two men perform a dance called zaffah.

Here's an audio sample, and another blast from Kuwait's musical past - a song replete with Kuwaiti fishing ships or buum, retro moustaches and shots of pre-oil Kuwait by a hero of 9awt, Shaadi Al-Khaleej:

تقدر	tigdr	Can you
تسجلي	tsaji-l-ii	You record for me
صوتك	9awt-ik	Your voice (to a male)