Category: Linguistics

  • Creek Language: the Trouble with V

    If you read my last article on Conlangs and the Art of Nomenclature, you know I’m an amateur linguist. Part of that comes from having a (very difficult to learn) tribal language, Muscogee, the official language of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation.

    A lot of times people ask me for examples of Creek words, or, for example, a simple question like “What’s the name of your clan?” If I’m talking, I have an easy answer:

    The Sweet Potato Clan

    But then, sometimes, people ask me “What’s the word in Creek for that?”

    Easy, if I’m saying it out loud:

    Ahalakaalki

    What if I’m not speaking out loud, though? Maybe someone has asked me that by email. Well, I can use the transliteration above … but that’s not how it’s spelled in Creek.

    This is the Sweet Potato clan using traditional spelling, the one you find in Muscogee dictionaries:

    Vhvlvkvlke

    To many, that looks … incomprehensible. Unpronounceable. All because the people who developed the tribal alphabet chose the character V to represent /ə/, the schwa sound.

    In my opinion? The odd spelling conventions in Muscogee can be a huge barrier to learning the language.

    Let’s see how we got into this mess in the first place.

    Note: the Name of the Language

    As you’d imagine, there are a number of spellings and transliterations for the name of the language itself: Muscogee, Muskogee, Maskoke, Mvskoke. It’s also called Creek. (Though a closely related language is Seminole, so close as to be more like dialects of each other.) I’ll use either Muscogee or Creek below.

    All About V

    V is an ancient letter, which of course makes sense given it’s part of “Roman numerals“, where V = 5. But you might also have seen it in old Roman inscriptions, such as the name of that famous fellow C. IVLIVS CÆSAR (Gaius Julius Caesar).

    A lot of people who see unfamiliar Latin words read V as the English /v/, and pronounce the traditional greeting VALE like “valley.”

    Nope. In truth, the Romans read V as /u/, so this would be more like “uale” or wallay.

    I’m bringing this up as I think it’s important to the story of how V came to be used in Creek, but more on that later. Meanwhile, as one of the oldest letters, it has … diversified over time. Here are a few examples:

    • V of course is /v/ in English (and French).
    • V is the same a B in Spanish, /b/ at the beginning of words, /β/ in other places.
    • V is /f/ (most of the time) in German. The letter used to get the /v/ sound is W.

    So Why is V the Schwa?

    I think this was the reasoning, but to fully get into the mindset, we have to go back to the year 1853 when the Muscogee National Alphabet was first adopted. (This was after our forced relocation from Georgia / Alabama to Oklahoma during the Trail of Tears, 1836 – 1837.) Back in the 1800s, most students in colleges and universities learned Latin and Classical Greek, at least if they wanted to appear “educated.”

    In Creek (as in German) vowels have different lengths, and these lengths are important.* How to write down a vowel with the following two forms?

    * There are different length consonants in Creek as well.

    1. Short /ə/, like the a in “about”, the e in “item”, the i in “pencil”, the o in “cannon”, or the u in “support.” (This sound can also be said to sound like the u in “but”, /ʌ/ – It depends on which book you’re using or what your instructor says.)
    2. A longer version that occurs in stressed syllables that sounds more like Spanish A /a/. (Not English a as in “bat.”) Just to add to the confusion—most of the time this is written as A in words! But other times they let it sneak by as a surprise, like in the name of the Sweet Potato clan above.

    One’s first guess would be to use the letter U. However, that letter is already assigned to the sound /ʊ/. (Like u in “put” or oo in “book”).

    So … since there’s no /v/ sound in Creek, why not take a tip from Latin and use V as an alternative to the letter U?

    Sweet Potato Clan, part 2

    Let’s try that name again:

    Vhvlvkvlke

    Now read it again, but this time, try to pronounce each V as “uh.”

    You almost got it right! There’s a stress on the second-to-the-last syllable. The correct pronunciation would be /ə.hə.lə.ˈkal.ki/, which I transliterated to:

    Ahalakaalki

    above.

    How “Cosa” became “McCosar”

    I mentioned My Family Name in my bio. One unanswered question:

    If my ancestor’s name was Cosa … how did “Mac” Cosa become “McCosar”?

    The mystery gets worse when you realize Muscogee doesn’t have an R sound at all! (The letter R = /ɬ/, like the Welsh LL, usually transliterated as thl, or hl.)

    The answer, as you can guess, is all in the schwa. My ancestor’s name was cosv, which in standard Creek would be /koːsə/. But we were NOT one, unified people, but a confederation of related tribal towns. All of them had individual dialects.*

    * Some Muscogee are even from other, smaller tribes that were merged in with us on the Trail of Tears, for example the Yuchi Creek.

    Apparently, in the Eufaula branch (where my ancestors came from), V can be /ɐ/, the “lowered” version of /ə/. German readers may appreciate this as the sound you hear at the end of aber, oper, and Berliner.

    That’s right: it’s an allophone of /ər/, and as such, it’s possible to see how someone might have written down /koːsɐ/ as “Cosar.”

    Creek Joke You Won’t Get

    I once asked Dad which clan I’m from, and he said Hokse.

    I’m not translating that.

    (Language) References

    Innes, Pamela Joan, et al. Beginning Creek. University of Oklahoma Press, 2004.

    Martin, Jack B. A Dictionary of Creek/Muskogee. University of Nebraska Press, 2005.

    That’s It! And Disclaimers

    Am I an expert in Creek? NO. I have tried to learn it for years, but it is … contentious, at times. For example, my father tried to relearn it (he knew it as a child) and all he got from other people in the tribe was criticism for not “speaking it right.” (One person told him he was speaking “white people Creek”, which has to be the strangest thing I’ve ever heard.) I also live far away from places where I could take classes. Therefore it remains … an aspiration.

    At the end of these articles I usually point out that this blog is ad-free and respects the reader by not flapping up a javascript when you’re trying to read. (That’s the number one reason I went ad-free and don’t require people to sign up for email lists or subscriptions … I myself hate it, so why would I force it on someone else?)

    But here’s what I do ask. If you liked this article, consider a donation to one of the following charities, chosen for relevance to this article:

    • The Native American Rights Fund.
    • The National Indigenous Women’s Resource Center.
    • I was going to suggest the National Museum of the American Indian, because they certainly need help trying to prevent erasure of the past … BUT their site has too many popups and grabbers for my liking, making it hard for me to navigate. You can Google them, of course, and if you donate, make sure to specify “make your web pages easier to read.”
  • Conlangs and the Art of Nomenclature

    Constructed languages can add depth to fictional worlds (as Tolkien would agree). Learn to pronounce names in the Cerulean language with the help of the International Phonetic Alphabet.*

    * If your browser doesn’t do Unicode, you might see some strange results here. Just pretend those letters got hit by cosmic rays and mutated.

    People who have beta-read my stories and (unpublished) novels usually comment on the nomenclature, the naming of people, places, and ideas. I suppose this is by contrast. There are an astonishing number of popular books out there where the author just went in and “wrote something that looked alien” or “came up with a fantasy name.” Here are some BAD examples:

    • Keyboard-fu names such as Stndsfrtg, apparently created by button-mashing or scrabble-tiling a few characters together. (Looking at you, Phantom Girl from the planet “Bgtzl.”)
    • Apostrophe-fu, where Ever’yone H’as an A’postrophe.
    • Unicode-fu, where we break out the special characters (especially the German ones, which look cool): Bühánnèk, Rålbjênng.

    In contrast, one of my novels features characters named Tounbaris Deorgh, Margalle Renhaaleon, and Saamet Keldorra. Whether your conscious mind realizes it or not, these share an internal consistency. If I asked which of these two names belongs to a fourth character—A) Naori Benaatrazin or B) K’ronk Gälbklot—most people would immediately recognize that (A) shares features with the existing set. (On the other hand, if oddball K’ronk ever shows up, it would be clear he didn’t belong, which can be an important clue as well. You’ll see an example of that later.)

    The thing is … one can take a guess at how to pronounce Tounbaris without knowing the rules. Deorgh is trickier, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. These names are in Western / Trade / the Cerulean language (a conlang), and since they belong to people of the sea, it is to be expected that there will be regional variations.

    However, I could tell you more …

    • Tounbaris /tuːn.ˈbɑr.ɪs/ “Bell Ringer” is a fortunate name for sea folk, as it means the turn of the hourglass and represents hope for the future.
    • Deorgh /dɛ.ˈoʁ/ “South” tells us his people came from the cooler lands down south. We might also call him Toun the Southerner. (By the way, that /ʁ/ is the famous “French R”, not the /r/ from Spanish or the /ɹ/ from English. Islanders spell it using the glyphs for R + GG when it occurs at the end of a word.)

    Now, some magic happened between those / / marks above. That’s called the International Phonetic Alphabet. (I use it a lot, so much I wrote a few Python scripts to make typing it in easier.) Once you know how to use it, it not only makes learning a new language easier, it makes constructing languages more consistent as well.

    But I had additional help—The Language Construction Kit. (Available as a free website, but I have the book, which is more detailed.) Beyond that, I had experience: over the years, I’ve studied Spanish, French, German, Latin, and Japanese as well.* Accidentally, I became an amateur linguist; from there it was a very short path to creating my own languages.

    * Studied: does NOT imply I can speak these language fluently. I can read the first, guess at the next three, and identify a few minor features in the last.

    Follow me for a short while. I’m going to teach you to talk like an Islander. By example!

    Vowels

    You may have noticed only certain combinations of vowels occur in the names above. That’s because there are only ten possibilities. Unlike in English, they only ever have one possible spelling.

    • Short vowels a /a/, e /ɛ/, i /ɪ/, o /o/, and u /ʊ/. You can simulate these in English with “bat, bet, bit, boat, book.”
    • Long vowels such as aa /aː/, ei /eː/, ii /iː/, au /ɔː/, and ou /uː/. The only odd one there is the “au” as in “caught” (which might be different for you, depending on your dialect of English). Also, this is the Spanish / French / German / basically every language except English /i/ sound as in “bee.”
    • There are also a few diphthongs, ai as in “Hi!”, aou as in “How?”, iou as in “Hue”, and eiy as in “Hey!”
    • There’s one more vowel sound, /ə/, which we will meet below in special circumstances.

    The Sound of Cerulean

    Though I never state these rules in any story I write, they’re present, and determine what a valid word looks and sounds like. Now we come to the examples! All of these are proper names.

    Doubled consonant + E

    If e occurs in the situation above, it takes the sound /ə/ (“uh”, the Schwa sound); the consonant is pronounced in both syllables.

    • Mol /mol/, but Molle /ˈmol.lə/
    • Hanesa /hɑ.ˈnɛ.sə/, but Hanneskeiyn /hɑn.nəs.ˈkeɪn/

    Final E or A

    At the end of a word, final e or a are always pronounced /ə/. If there are two preceding consonants, they always get split between syllables.

    • Hanesa /hɑ.ˈnɛ.sə/
    • Temre /ˈtɛm.rə/

    This excludes single consonants that are represented as a digraph, e.g. sh = /ʃ/:

    • Cortaashe /kor.ˈtɑː.ʃə/, but NOT /kor.ˈtɑːs.hə/*

    * Which brings up an interesting issue. Cerulean writes our “SH” sound as a single glyph. Just like the other letters, it can be doubled. Fortunately, words like Lashshe /ˈlɑʃ.ʃə/ are rare, and when written in a story, would probably just be Anglicised to Lashe. (You do have to think of these intersections and exceptions when you’re designing a language.)

    Final I or U

    In contrast to the rule above, the short vowels i or u at the end of a word become /i/ and /u/. (Note these are NOT the same as the long vowels ii /iː/ and ou /uː/.)

    • Silatouri /sɪ.lɑ.ˈtuː.ri/
    • Farradainu /fɑr.rɑ.ˈdɑɪ.nu/

    Test Your Transliteration Skills!

    Below are five common names from Earth. Assuming the consonants are the same, translate these into the form they would appear in Cerulean. There may be more than one correct answer, but warning: some of these names may be impossible to carry over without an alteration.

    1. Daisy
    2. Dianne
    3. Delia
    4. Doug
    5. Doyle

    (Answers)

    1. Daisy → Deizi, Deiysi, etc. Here the “ai” in English is NOT pronounced like the ai /ɑɪ/ of Cerulean, but instead like ei.
    2. Dianne → Dayan or Daian. Notice that “Diana” would be Dayanne (and is more likely to be a real Islander name).
    3. Delia → Diliya. Shortening it to Dilia would make it read more like “Dilya”, and since the letter combination “ia” occurs so rarely, an Islander might choose that spelling instead.
    4. Oof. Tough one. There’s no “u as in but” sound, /ʌ/. I hate to say poor old Doug might be Dog in Cerulean, but … maybe Daug? (Ironically, the second one is pronounced similar to “dog.”)
    5. Cerulean doesn’t have an “oy” diphthong. They could simulate it with Doyle → Doyel, but it would read more like “doe-yell.”

    Did you notice … ?

    All of these names look foreign. One might expect Gaumfalle, Saisherra, and Nadraglein, but “Deizi” doesn’t seem to fit, even though it doesn’t break any rules.

    That’s the power of creating a language behind the scenes.

    That’s It! And Disclaimers

    A relatively short one, today. As this blog goes on, I plan to put more articles on here about my writing, world building, and other topics such as realistic science in speculative fiction. Meanwhile …

    Opinions presented here are entirely my own. Hopefully I provided proper attribution / links to everything I cited in the article; if I didn’t, please let me know and I’ll correct this post. At any rate, just because I linked somewhere, it doesn’t mean they had any input into this article. The words and opinions are all mine.

    Like my blog? Great! I don’t collect emails or tips. Do me a solid and donate to The Trevor Project. I was a teacher for twenty years, and I know there were times that the one kind word I said made all the difference.

    It’s a travesty the world has gotten as terrible as it has, and I wish doing my job hadn’t become impossible to bear.

    One day I’ll have to write about that, too.