Currants and blackberry: sitik, šukštor, šaptər, *čāpčəɣ, szëdër

The early Uralic research literature has pitched several etymological sets for currants (Ribes), still included in the Uralisches Etymologisches Wörterbuch – often still optimistic in simply collecting data together “in hopes it works out”. (I recall Janne Saarikivi calling it once, years back, as being “more of a ‘materials for an etymological dictionary’ publication than an actual etymological dictionary”, and I would broadly agree.) These have been split in three entries:

All of these are clearly too much of messes in sound correspondences to be granted the status of actual reconstructions, as is common especially when the Finno-Ugric Transcription vowel wildcards “ȣ” (“any/some back vowel”) and “ɜ” (“any/some vowel”) come out even in the 1st syllable. Yet they seem to have some family resemblances still.

It was brought to my attention a few years back by Sampsa Holopainen’s short article in Festscrift Forsberg, “Hungarian szëdër, Ossetic ʒedyr ‘blackberry’ and some other berry names” that there is a better reason for similarity than trying to set up some hard-to-reconstruct common Uralic or substrate term for ‘currant’: there could exist a mostly fossilized old term *tVrV (= *tɜrɜ) ‘berry’ in many of these words. Thus many of these names for currants would be likely old compounds. Once we segment this 2nd element out, it also seems to me any reason to try to combine the various first elements evaporates. Moreover I think a handful of them can be also given actual etymologies!


Let us start with Mordvinic: e.g. Erzya šukštor, šukštorov, čukštorov, Moksha šukštər, šukštəru, čukšturu in various dialects (the longer forms suffixed with the common adjectival-diminutive ending *-əŋ). Here we can equate, I believe, *šukš- with Erzya čukš, Mokša šukš ‘dung heap, spirit of the dung heap’ (documented by Paasonen from just one dialect each, of Gorodishche and Selishche; I do not know if this word is well known in modern-day Mordvinic). The blackcurrant is a plant that thrives on nutrient-heavy soils, such as in the immediate vicinity of dung heaps. Garden specimens, too, are commonly treated with manure to encourage growth. I do not have a clear further etymology to propose for this root, though it would look like pre-Mordvinic *šokšə and I suppose we could attempt to compare it with e.g. Mari *šokšə ‘hot’ (dung heaps generate heat all by themselves…), but this starts being very speculative. Either way, the compound / derivative *šukš-tər can be surely analyzed as ‘dung-heap berry’ instead of plain *šukš being somehow extracted from the plant name. At this point then we have no reason to maintain a comparison with either of the two proposals in UEW it has appeared in. There is nothing at all in *šukš ‘dung heap’ that matches e.g. Finnic *se̮(e̮)s- in Es. sõstar, Fi. siestar, etc., [1] which would be likely simply some other word entirely, just compounded with the same element *-tVrV ‘berry’.

The blackcurrant’s botanical behavior appears I think also in at least one other word among the bundle: the isolated South Estonian sitik (given as just “Estonian” in UEW, but cf. the dialect map at VMS) listed under the 1st cluster but a bad fit with anything else there. Actually it matches somewhat nicely the pseudo-reconstruction #ćȣkčɜ itself (*ć- > s-, *-č- > *-t- already in Proto-Finnic and *kt > *tt > t post-PF would all be regular), but this is itself only an ad hoc compromise between Ob-Ugric suggesting *č-pč-, Veps suggesting *ć-ć- and Mordvinic (dispensed with just above) suggesting *č/š-kšt-. The better thing to note here is that sitik also means ‘dung beetle’, deriving from sitt ‘shit’ (< Proto-Finnic *sitta [2]). I think this is the same with the berry: it too is simply a “shittic”, that is a species found around dung heaps.

What else can we do with the idea of berry terms being likely compounds rather than singletons? First of all, even if we don’t know what might be the original first element in Finnic forms like siestar, this seems to still help us on how to reconstruct the mysterious ‘berry’ element: it would be Proto-Uralic *tarə or *te̮rə, or theoretically perhaps *tärä. [3] If we take this knowledge into UEW’s third ‘currant’ reconstruction, we might find an explanation at least for the completely unique vowel correspondence between Udmurt suter and Komi setör. Taken at face value, this could be namely projected into a pre-Permic back/front doublet *saCtar ~ *säCtär. I would suggest this then continues two different ways of harmonizing an earlier compound to the effect of *säCV-tarə. Perhaps indeed *säpV-tarə, if we continued to compare these with Mari W šaptər, E šoptər; but as noted by Holopainen, this seems actually unlikely since the crucial Malmyzh dialect indicates Proto-Mari *š- (< PU *š-, *ć-) rather than *s-. Just within Permic, *C could be any of the many consonants known to disappear regularly. *p is one option, but so are *t, *k, *d₁, *x, *w, *j and maybe even *ŋ. Looking over already known PU roots, could this be instead e.g. *säjə-tarə ‘pus-berry’? The currants are at least distinctly juicy berries compared to most others; this naming motivation seen also in e.g. modern Finnish herukkaherua ‘to run out, seep out (whey, juice, etc.)’. But ‘pus’ — or even its known Permic reflex, *siś ‘rotten’ — still sounds not highly appropriate.

For Mari we are better in luck with compound-hunting! It appears *šåp- here can be straightforwardly equated with the element seen in Mari W šapə, E šowo ‘sour’, with likely cognates all over western Uralic, and with several morphological and phonological problems, maybe in Ugric (UEW: *čawɜ ~ *čapa, cf. also #šȣwɜ- ‘to sour’, *čemɜ ‘sour’). The red and black currants are after all quite sour among the berries regularly eaten in the Uralic-speaking north. More than their absolute degree of sourness, this might be also instead in contrast to the alpine currant, Ribes alpinum, in Eastern Europe more common in the wild than the two garden species, but remarkably bland and watery in taste. An apt name especially if *tarə means not merely ‘berry’, but something like ‘large bushy berry plant’ (given that it does not seem to be found in the names of any low-growing species like the blueberry/bilberry, lingonberry, cloudberry, strawberry…). Thus, *šapV-tarə ‘sour berry’.

This naming motivation for the currant seems like it might work also in Ob-Ugric, where we have exactly #čap- suggested in parts of Khanty: Vakh–Vasjugan čowčəɣ, Surgut čŏpčəɣ, South čăpčə. Mansi *šāšəɣ ~ *šašəɣ shows some unexpected vowel shortening in an open syllable (e.g. South šošəw, Pelym šošiɣ, Sosva sosiɣ) despite a probable original long vowel (Upper Lozva sōsiɣ; we do not expect to find any secondary lengthening in Northern Mansi) that could perhaps indicate reconstructing still *šoššəɣ, with a cluster as the result of the per se regular loss of preconsonantal *p. And could North Khanty showing irregular *čom- > *šom- (Nizyam šumšə, Kazym šǫmšĭ, Obdorsk somsi) be then perhaps related to that we indeed find in Khanty also forms of ‘sour’ with -m-? If this was a compound, though, of course the latter element would have to be some entirely different *čVK-. I might consider even an old reduplication like #čapa-čapa > #čapčawə > #čāpčəɣ. [4] But for the time being, this must be left to wait for clarification of the confusing relationships and sound correspondences among the various Uralic words in the field of ‘sour’. Already *š- in the west against *č- in the east is irregular!

Moving finally out of the field of just currants, I would like to suggest also an ultimate etymology for the initiator of all this, Hungarian szëdër ‘blackberry’. Holopainen connects this, following Helimski, with Ossetian dzedyr id., but leaves still without good further connections. I believe this would be rather native Uralic borrowed into Ossetian, and comes from pre-Hungarian *ćEnV-tarə ‘pitch-black berry’. The second part is again our old PU term for ‘berry bush’, and first part is a precursor of Hungarian szén ‘(char)coal’. [5] This compound, following the fossilization of *tarə as a “berry-deriving suffix”, would then have been syncopated early to *sēntär and fed into the regular Hungarian development *nt > d. Vowel development is not too clear, though: we must clearly reconstruct szëdër (stem szëdrë-) to Old Hungarian *szĭdrV, which would be better derived from original *e or *i. Meanwhile for szén, its inflected stem szene- rather suggests Old Hungarian *szänä; but we also have a few dialect attestations like szin pointing more to *szēnV. Only the latter could easily give *szĭ- in a compound. Neither is it very clear how we might derive Ossetian dz- from here. Could be assume borrowing at some early stage when PU *ć- was still an affricate in pre-Hungarian, and then perhaps common Ossetic voicing assimilation *ts-d > *dz-d? Or will we need to appeal to, as Holopainen notes has been done by Cheung, to some effect of equivalent Northwest Caucasian terms like Adyghe ‘blackberry’?


Either way I believe Holopainen’s cautiously suggested idea of a berry name element *tVrV proves to work really quite well. If we reconstruct this as a native Uralic compounding term (for now not attested as an independent word entirely), we can unpack at least a couple of the very bothersome terms for ‘currant’ as old compounds with unrelated but identifiable first parts. There will be also no need to appeal to vague and unfalsifiable explanations of substrate terms, supposedly adopted from an unknown source with unpredictable variation.

A final note I would leave are the lessons on the general typology of bionyms (phytonyms, zoonyms etc.). Comparative Uralic research has been usually content to reconstruct such terms as referring to single species or genera, such as ‘blackcurrant’. However examination of almost any modern language’s folk terminology for the living world reveals, besides some small number of unanalyzable units (for instance, Finnish koivu ‘birch’, siili ‘hedgehog’, kajava ‘seagull’) an abundance of compound and derived names, usually with backing in the ecological functions, practical uses, and behavior of these species. This I believe is a fruitful path to actually working out an increasing number of etymologies for such terms, even if it might not lead us quite as far as reconstructible specific Proto-Uralic names.

[1] Very old proposals (Setälä & Genetz in the 1890s) exist on equating *e̮ in Finnic with Mordvinic (*o >) *u, which would look phonologically reasonable given that Finnic back-harmonic *i (? < *i̮) regularly corresponds with Mordvinic (*u > ) *ŏ. But this is long obsolete the absense of good etymologies, and the now longstanding consensus (solid from the 1940s onwards) that Proto-Finnic *e̮ is an innovation first appearing with Baltic and Germanic loanwords.
[2] Which in turn, yes, looks very much like the Germanic. I would be inclined to think *sk- → *s- can have been possible among old loans, where *st- → *s- is regular, and that at least the Uralic comparison (UEW: *sitta) with Selkup–Kamassian *tütə is false (we would not expect *ü here anyway). Permic also shows *sit with explicit *s and explicit *i, which is more puzzling. Could this be also from the same IE source? Perhaps even diffused from Finnic? Originally Germanic loans among the Finnic loans mostly into Komi (only rarely Udmurt) do exist in one or two cases.
[3] Formally the self-standing Finnic reflex we’d expect would be *toori. This comes now within speculation distance of *toore̮h ‘fresh’, but alas the adjective does not seem to show any particular semantic affinity with berries or other fruit. Its perhaps most canonical referents are agriculturally produced foodstuffs: bread, milk, and hay (and in particular, it does not mean ‘ripe’ (of berries, cereals, cooked meat, etc.), which is Proto-Finnic *küpci).
[4] This has been already floated by Abondolo 1996, Vowel Rotation in Uralic (no. 169), though he starts with #čuk-čuk plus dissimilation *kč…k > *pč…k, and clearly wrongly, only in Khanty (Mansi would not reflect *kč > **š).
[5] For which Uralic origin has been often suggested too (in UEW as either *śine or *śȣ̈ne), details remain open.

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Posted in Etymology

Problematizing the derivation of Finnic *-i

One of the oldest phonological processes that is still prominent in the grammars of modern-day Finnic languages is e-stem inflection: the alternation of nominative singulars ending in -i with inflected stems in -e-, such as Finnish kivi : kive- ‘stone’, tuli : tule- ‘fire’, tuuli : tuule- ‘wind’. While no longer productive, this has left an inflection class containing a good several hundreds nouns, often very basic ones that have to be learned early on.

Structurally, this inflection contrasts readily with unvariable i-stems, an important productive class especially in Finnish into which internationalisms tend to be placed, and have been placed for a few centuries now, thus e.g. blogi(-) ‘blog’, posti(-) ‘post, mail’ (however e.g. Estonian post, Karelian pošta). Unvariable e-stems are meanwhile rare in Finnish, mainly limited to recent vocabulary. Their only historical source are Old Finnish / Northwest Finnic ⁽*⁾ei-stems which are themselves of somewhat obscure origin (Proto-Finnic proper *-ei gives in Finnish instead “tertiary” -i), mainly met in personal names such as Tyyne, Anne, Ville, Janne < former Tyynei, Annei, Villei, Jannei as attested in some dialects; and in dialectal äite ~ äire ~ äiree etc. ‘mother’, whose standard Finnish form is however äiti (< *äitei). In Estonian we find a lot more, but comparison with basically all other Finnic shows that here these come from loss of unstressed vowel length in *ee-stems (as still in Finnish) < even earlier consonant-stems in *eh(e-), *ek(e-) (as still partly in Karelian, Votic, etc.)

Already from these facts it is simple to end up with the internal reconstruction that Finnic e-stems are, as the name suggests, indeed the old *e-stems: they would have had a historical nominatives like *kive (or at this time probably still *kiwe), in which then word-final *e > *i. This has remained standard understanding for well over a century by now.


The reconstruction has acquired several hitches to it in recent times, though. Firstly we have the revivement of *E-harmony for Proto-Finnic. In words with back harmony, we find stems in õ /ɤ/ rather than e in Votic and in South Estonian, e.g. tulõ- ‘fire’; and we have by now reasons to think this is the older state of things, with other languages then having õ > e or rather *e̮ > e (if we stick to Finno-Ugric Transcription) in noninitial syllables (North Estonian) or everywhere (North Finnic). [1] For dealing with this, we have a hypothesis sketched already early on by Setälä, who simply reconstructed a parallel word-final raising *e̮ > *i̮ and a very early pre-Proto-Finnic merger *i̮ > *i; which by his thinking would also have taken place in roots with disharmonic *i-a in Proto-Finnic, which can be of Uralic origin but also have consistently back-vocalic cognates elsewhere. This part remains, however, typically un-revived. No one has found much reason to set up such a fully separate *i̮ in Proto-Uralic (not to be confused with the “other” *i̮, that I and various others reconstruct rather as *e̮, and which yields Finnic *a), and the typical compromise has been to reconstruct disharmonic *i-a, as in Finnic, already this far back. [2]

The second complication is that reconstructing noninitial *e in already Proto-Uralic (either as such, or with vowel harmony) has been essentially abandoned. We could in principle simply continue to assume that the PU non-open stem vowel first changes generally to *e (~ *e̮?) and then develops as previously assumed. But this is not necessarily the best call. At this point the new options then split broadly in two depending on what we do reconstruct.

Option 1 is to reconstruct some less-descript, central-ish vowel like *ə or *ɨ. Especially from the first it would be easy to derive *e ~ *e̮ (paralleling e.g. Proto-Mordvinic *ə > literary-type Erzya e ~ o, or Proto-Mari final *-ə > Meadow Mari e ~ ö ~ o [3]), but it also might be reasonable to start a number of later Finnic developments directly from *ə at least in some positions. The most telling case IMO are the various Proto-Finnic syncopes and apocopes. Finnic internal reconstruction has historically tended to view these in light of *e being a “particularly weak” vowel that would be more easily lost than others. But in terms of actual sonority, [e] is instead clearly stronger than e.g. secondary close *i and *u, by this time already around from combinations of *ə + glide. My thinking is that these losses thus take place generally at the *ə-stage. At least some of them, however, seem to be best placed slightly late in chronology, at a time when final *i (and the shift *ti > *ći > *ci that it triggers) would have already existed. Secondary application is not entirely ruled out, as at least stem-final //ti// → /ci/ (or even newer /si/) seems to have remained morphophonologically productive for some time. Regardless, this is already suggestive that final *-i might actually not come from *e, but already earlier from *ə. I do not have an extremely direct / strong relative-chronology argument, but e.g. the following will formally give this result:

  1. *ti > *ći, including *tiwä > *ćiwä ‘deep’ and numerous cases with *-tə > *-ti > *-ći.
  2. Assimilation *iwä > *üwä, thus now *ćüwä (or *cüwä, depalatalization is not placed within this argument).
  3. Assimilation *üwä >> *öö commences in some cases, including again this root in a derivative *ćüwä-ksə- >> *cöökse- ‘to plunge in, spew’.
  4. *w-epenthesis only before primary *oo, *öö (as I’ve argued just previously).
  5. Contractions *owə, *ewə, perhaps *ejə > secondary *oo, *öö, *ee, which is probably still best placed before *ə > *E.

Finer details of vowel contraction could still complicate this though, e.g. if *owə, *ewə were by stage 4 diphthongs *ou, *öü (or if *öö rather than **vöö for ‘night’ turns out to have a different explanation after all), then *ə-loss in them would be now free to have been perhaps much earlier.

Note also that e.g. plurals of consonant-stem nouns, like *käci ‘hand’ : sg. part. *kät-tä < *kätə-tä (with syncope) : pl. part. *käcidä < *käti-tä < *kätə-j-tä (without syncope) don’t help here, since the syncope in *kätə-tä > *kät-tä could be meanwhile already older than *əj > *i or at least *ij > *i; in principle already Proto-Uralic even, as it is directly paralleled by cognate formations like the Mordvinic “ablative” *veťə < *wet-tä ‘(some) water’. (At minimum *e < *e though, rather than *e…ä > *i, has to be analogous here from other inflected forms.)

Other early vowel developments also would seem to be better placed as feeding into *ə rather than *e. I’ve already mentioned combinations with a glide: in Proto-Finnic we have clear morphophonological *E+j > *i (also *E+jV > *ijV), and can internally reconstruct further also *E+w > *u (with *ü as a partial, but not entirely general, vowel harmony alternant). In this case we could well think these to be really *əj > *ij > *i and *əw > *uw > *u (sometimes further > *ü), instead of routing in superfluous backness (**e̮j > *i) or frontness (**ew > *u). Developments from *-a, *-ä to eventual *-e̮-, *-e- or *-i (thus in *ä…ä >> *a…i, or instrumental *-mA >> *-mi) probably are best placed here too, though to the extent that these are regular sound changes, they are already forced to be early by relative chronology also, e.g. by them feeding into syncope or glide vocalizations.

Option 2 of reconstructing *-i(-) (? ~ *i̮) already in PU seems to by contrast point to reverting the history of “e-stems”: they would not have final raising, but medial lowering? Also probably reasonable by itself, but again complicated by combinations with glides. We seem to first of all have no interchange between putative *i and *j, and instead a contrast between *i and *ij would have to have been common / phonologically loaded (incidentally, another reason that makes the reconstruction of noninitial *i look suspicious / unparsimonious to me). I would also expect this to have been resolved generally, not only medially. Final non-lowering does not make as much sense to me as final raising would. Could we rewrite here final lengthening as the first step, such that we have *-ij(-), *-i merging as *-ii (and later shortening) against a short *-i- > *-e-? Syncope directly from short *i is in this case easy to deal with, at least. [4]

One thing both of these scenarios still share in common is that, while deriving alternating final *-i might require adjustments, deriving stable *i from *əj ~ *ij remains straightforward.

The third hitch for reconstructing final raising of *e is then the evidence of verbs. For one there would be the simple personal endings: 1PS *-n < *-m and 2PS *-t, seemingly showing loss of a final vowel when compared with their equivalents among possessive suffixes: 1PS *-mi, 2PS *-ci < *-ti (? < *-mə, *-tə etc.) This might be simply very old though and is reconstructible already to Proto-Uralic. For two, a similar but less-appreciated issue appears also in the 3rd person singular. In mainline Finnic languages a verb stem never appears unsuffixed (even the 2PS imperative ends in a widely lost *-k). South Estonian, however, reflects 3PS forms with no suffix, and this is probably archaic, while mainline Finnic adopts here an ending *-pi (~ *-bi) taken from the present participle. But the South Estonian 3PS does not then reflect *-e > *-i as expected! We find instead forms like näge ‘sees’, purõ ‘bites’, tulõ ‘comes’. Regularly apocopated forms like lätt < *läktV ‘goes’, sulg < *sulkV ‘closes’ also fail to reflect a final *-i, which would have given palatalization; cf. nominals like süľg < *sülki ‘spit’, or even more simply, 3PS imperfects like lätś < *läkci < *läktə-j ‘went’. [5] So it appears that the development of final *-i was actually somehow restricted to nominals! (Including adjectives and numerals, which in Finnic are inflected as nouns.)


At this point I can then sketch an alternate hypothesis entirely, by which this might be in fact a morphological and not a phonological development. Namely, Finnic nouns in *-E- : *-i do not reflect a raising of their final vowel per se at all; they reflect a nominative singular ending *-j, and thus develop their *i from *əj or *ij, naturally at the exact same time as general *i-stems do.

There is of course no general Uralic or general Finnic nominative singular ending of this shape (or any other shape), and this would have to be innovative. I suggest this ultimately continues *-j as the original PU genitive–accusative plural, which continues to form oblique plural stems in Finnic. However in the genitive itself, it has been ousted by innovative formations *-t-en, *-j-t-en that pile on the nominative plural ending (as if *-j- had not been felt to be “plural enough”?) and the genitive singular. The accusative plural, to the extent it can be claimed to exist in Finnic on syntactic grounds, also adopts *-t, merging thus with the nominative. Bare *-j appears to survive instead in combining nominal forms like *sikoi-paimen ‘pigherd’, [6] which interestingly enough are typically no more particularly plural. With *e-stems, too, we in fact find the *i-variant in compounds, even though here their *i does not occur word-finally, e.g. *veci-lintu ‘water bird’, *käci-pooli ‘one-handed’ (“hand-half”). I am aware of zero evidence for compounds such as **vetelintu or **kätepooli, even though at least in Proto-Finnic times we’d in fact expect this from a basic stem+stem construction. Newer compounds could still just be based on the current nominative singulars in *-i, so we would surely expect levelling to occur too. But levelling everywhere with no traces even in archaic language sounds too suspicious, when we also have the parallel example of *-j-derived compounding forms of *A-stems. Thus, compounds of this sort with connecting *-j may have been at one point fairly general. [7] It is from these I hypothesize a jump to a nominative singular to have been made; perhaps initially by a kind of very slight degrammaticalization of compounds like *lapcirakkas ‘dear child’ into a fully homonymous (and almost entirely synonymous) construction with a noun fronted before its modifier, e.g. *lapci_rakkas.

The late (post-South Estonian) Proto-Finnic derivation of a new 3PS verb form from a participle also feels like it fits in with this. In this process we have a former zero-copula construction like *tuli_palabi ‘a fire [is] burning’ reanalyzed as a finite verb form ‘a fire burns’; but the starting point here could in turn also itself continue a former compound *tulipalaba (*palabə?) “fireburning”, which seems compareable to still current forms like tulenpalava, ‘burning like fire’, with a genitive singular prepound. The final *-i in these verb forms can be in turn also accounted for by having been still adjectives at this time, not verbal.

Several questions will remain to be tackled, perhaps with more work than I can provide here, but I can suggest some outlines already. The first issue to deal with is, why only the *e-stems? If these attributive forms became generalized as a novel nominative ending, why not also e.g. **sikoi ‘pig’ or **kaloi ‘fish’ or **silmei ‘eye’? This I believe is related to the maintenance of the bisyllabic stem requirement. Early on, Proto-Finnic trends towards loss of at least 3rd syllable word-final *-ə, and as is common in Uralic, may have been on the way towards loss of 2nd syllable *-ə as well, at least in some positions. The *-j-suffixed form could have provided a new alternate nominative that did not suffer from this. This could have been needed during the development of contracted long vowels in particular. We even currently find a Finnish doublet tyyni ~ tyven ‘calm, still’ that seemingly reflects *tüwnə ~ *tüwən or perhaps even earlier *tüwənə ~ *tüwən; but maybe we can write this more simply as a morphological doublet *tüwənə-j ~ *tüwən, and then also explain the lack of vocalization in the latter form by stem structure: a heavy monosyllable **tüün might have been dispreferred. Also, while vocalization of *w shows many other exceptions, e.g. direct vocalization of *ŋ does not, and so a development like *šiŋər- (? > *šijər-) > *šiir- in the word for ‘mouse’ would naturally have left instead only the *i-stem, which was perhaps originally a *-j-suffixed variant: *hiiri < *šiiri << ? *šiŋərə-j. Bear in mind that, although rare, final *r per se is perfectly licit in Finnic (e.g. *tüttär ‘daughter’, *tande̮r ‘flat ground’ with no evidence for trisyllabic byforms like **tüttäri, **tante̮ri).

Next we would need an account for final -i and not **-E in possessive suffixes: not only nominative singulars like ⁽*⁾käte-ni ‘my hand’ (where I could in principle claim that this is from *käte-nə-j, with an exceptional-in-Finnic but not exceptional-in-Uralic position for the neo-nominative ending) — but also all other cases, such as inessive sg. käde-ssä-ni ‘in my hands’, where we would not expect to see an “extra” nominative ending present at all. All this would probably have to be taken as altogether analogical from the nominative singular. At least it is convenient that, in the possessed paradigm, the nominative singular is already used also in place of the nominative plural and the genitive–accusative singular (actually for the 1PS this is etymologically the old genitive singular, from pre-PU *-n-mə, but this syntactic distribution holds for all persons), thus being clearly the one form that would be generalized if something was.

The worst challenge for this idea is surely then the translative case suffix ⁽*⁾-ksi, which not only ends in an -i << *-ə, but also actively alternates with -e- when preceding possessive suffixes, e.g. Fi. tule avu-ksi ‘come help!’, tule avu-kse-ni ‘come help me!’. But intriguingly, it is just here that we can find a seeming failure of -i to appear all across Finnic, as Livvi shows -kse. [8] Generalization from possessed forms seems reasonable though, especially since we’d expect the earlier Ludian substrate of Livvi to simply have had apocope here. In turn, the Ludian translative is -kš, which must still derive from specifically *-kśi < *-ksi. However in Veps we can attest un-palatalized -ks, likewise in South Estonian un-palatalized -s(s); do these then also point to *-kse? As a general point, I am also usually suspicious of trying to derive observably phonological distributions (final -i, medial -e-) by morphological / analogical mechanisms rather than actual sound change. But I cannot entirely shake a sense of *-kse being possibly archaic.

One last benefit I would see in reworking final *-e > *-i is accounting for the lack of any similar shift affecting *o, the other mid vowel that could occur word-finally by Proto-Finnic (perhaps most often in derivatives of the type ⁽*⁾nosta- ‘to lift’ → ⁽*⁾nost-o ‘lifting, lift’). But this being itself secondary means other explanations would be readily possible: e.g. an intermediate *-ow from earlier *-a-w could have already sufficed to adopt loans from foreign *ō-stems, eventually giving nicer-looking correlations such as PF *mako ‘stomach’ (? < *makow) ~ Proto-Germanic *magô, while allowing for a final short *-o to have still not yet existed by the time of *-e > *-i.

[1] In large part this follows already from the reshaping of the Finnic family tree to place South Estonian as a distinct primary branch, not in a common South Finnic node with Votic. For further argumentation see Häkkinen 2019 plus additions by Junttila and myself in Festschrift Kallio. — Livonian has further complications in showing inflection with õ ~ u (in different positions) as the reflex of most non-open-vowel stems, i.e. all of PF *e, *e̮, *o, *u (but not PF *i). At least u is likely derived by a secondary merger chain *e > *e̮ > *o > u. As Livonian unstressed õ is [ə], this could be then also archaic in some part; but this seems difficult to demonstrate in any real way.
[2] Reflexes elsewhere mostly look like *u. This makes me think that, even if it was correct that Finnic has here *i < back *i̮, it might not be itself Proto-Uralic but the reflex of some kind of an earlier back rounded vowel. I have had however no success in trying to assemble consistent delabialization or for that matter back-harmonization conditions.
[3] PMo. *ə and PMa. *ə do often continue PU *ə/*e/*i, but also often *a ~ *ä, and they are moreover preserved as /ə/ (perhaps with front and back allophones [ə̈], [ə̑]) in other varieties, which means reconstructing a reduced noninitial vowel is clearly less speculative here than for pre-Finnic. Meadow Mari indeed even contrasts final [e ö o] < *ə from regular /e ö o/ (found word-finally only in loanwords) in that the latter attract stress, as do all full (non-schwa) vowels, but the former do not; and so I would argue (as does by now Saarinen in the Oxford handbook description) they are in fact still phonologically /ə/. (Phonetically, too, they are distinctly overshort and slightly reduced, sometimes recorded in older FUT as ə ᴓ ᴑ.)
[4] Maybe also worth keeping in mind that this would have some odd synergy also with the “rotated” Uralic reconstruction of Tálos where even initial *i and (some) *e in Finnic come actually from PU *ii and *i respectively. Though I do find this one of the weaker parts of his reconstruction: it seems to be added because his reconstruction of long open vowels structurally calls for proposing something to have been also long close vowels. If I was doing this, I’d just opt to revive traditional (Finnic-based) *ii *uu in place of current *ij *uw — although the lack of a corresponding **üü remains suspicious, among other problems.
[5] First brought to my attention by Santeri Junttila. I do not recall seeing this issue having been discussed in print thus far.
[6] My credit to Patrick O’Rourke on drawing my attention to this point in a discussion — this is not the standard etymology of these combining forms, but upon consideration it seems to me obvious, as e.g. a pigherd is a herder of pigs, other similar compounds also show a modifier construction, and compounds with a genitive singular first member are well established too. Just a few bare juxtaposition / dvandva compounds also occur in Finnic, e.g. ⁽*⁾maailma ‘world’ (“earth-air”); to my knowledge in none of these do we find “combining” forms in *-Ei, *-oi or even *-i.
[7] Note also that a number of attested compounds like Fi. suurmies ‘great man’ reflect syncope from *suuri-mees, not the compounding of a plain consonant stem *suur- ‘big’. This is indicated by similar compounds of adjectives ending in *-tE-, such as Fi. täysmaito ‘whole milk’: this must be < *täysi-maito < *täüci-maito, since an “original” consonant-stem compound would have been instead **täytmaito. Their secondary nature hence seems evident enough, even though I am not aware of a proposed dating for this syncope nor do I even know the overall distribution of these compounds in Finnic. (At least they seem not fully productive, even beyond the fact that e-stem adjectives also aren’t. E.g. from pieni ‘small’, we still get occasional new coinages like pien+lentokone ‘light aircraft’, but the actually productive compounding adjective for ‘small, minor, micro-‘ is pikku-, and for instance ˣpien+lapsi for pikkulapsi ‘small child, toddler’ is definitely ungrammatical ~ unlexical. I’m not sure if I’d necessarily accept things like ?pien+sitrus besides pikkusitrus ‘small citrus fruit’ either. Regular NPs pieni lapsi, pieni sitrus are of course fine but are distinguishable from compounds already by concord: gen.sg. pienen lapsen, not ˣpienilapsen etc., much as also pikkulapsen but not ˣpikunlapsen etc.)
[8] Modern Finnish, too, has lative adverbs such as luokse ‘to the vicinity of’, taakse ‘to behind of’. Formally these do not end in bare /e/, but rather, as most graphical cases of final e, in final sandhi gemination, “/ˣ/” (taakse meni /taaksem_meni/ ‘behind it went’), thus looking like some sort of double-marked lative particles *loo-kse-k, *taga-kse-k. “Simple” latives in *-k such as taa ‘to behind’, or latives in *-nek such as alle ‘to below’ (< *allek << *al-nək), or regular allatives in -lle (itself maybe from *-llen rather than *-llek) all however could well have provided motivation for an analogical shift from a bare final *e — if this did once occur here. Counting this as much direct evidence at all still does not seem warranted.

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Notes on *v-epenthesis in Proto-Finnic

Proto-Uralic allowed a labial glide *w- fairly generally, including before the labial vowels *o (e.g. *wolka ‘shoulder’) and, at least in one instance, *ü (*wülä ‘up, above’). [1] In the three westernmost branches, *w- was lost in these positions. The change is generally clear in Finnic (*olka, *ülä) and Samic (*oalkē, *əlē), though in Mordvinic it is partly obscured by the later breaking of initial *ü- to *wi- > *vĕ- (*vĕľ- ‘up’ < *(w)ül-, as also e.g. *vĕj- < *ük- ‘one’). This might be typologically too trivial as grounds for establishing a West Uralic genealogical subgroup comprising these three branches, but if this could be done otherwise, it would be simple to date loss of *w- already here, as has been generally done by those who support this group.

In Samic, a labial glide *v- [2] later arises again before word-initial *ō-. This includes not just cases from original *o- (such as *vōksē-, *vōksəntē- ‘to vomit’ vs. Finnic *okse̮nta-), but even cases from earlier *a- < *a-, *e̮- (such as *vōmtē- ‘to sell’ vs. Finnic *anta- ‘to give’, Md. *and- ‘to feed’; *vōlē- ‘under’ vs. Finnic *ala-, Md. *al-), and so it is very clear this is indeed an innovation. Interestingly this affects just the close-mid tense vowel, the diphthong *oa [3] is not generally affected.

For a possible tangent, in Kola Sami (Kildin + Ter) *oa splits later into *uə before non-open vowels, remaining *oa only before *ā; and the former cases also then develop epenthetic v- thruout, e.g. for ‘shoulder’ we have *oalkē >> *vuəlge > Kildin vue´llg, Ter vïe´llge. But for retained *oa, only Kildin has a glide, Ter does not, e.g. *oaŋkō- ‘to angle’ > *oaŋga- > Kildin voaŋŋgeð, Ter oaŋŋgad. What I notate here *uə is also the reflex of *ō in non-raising positions (e.g. *cōmpōj ‘frog’ >> *cuəmbāj > Kildin cuemb, Ter cïembaj) and so it would be theoretically possible to think general Samic *v-epenthesis only happens this late. But this seems ineffective for dealing with the third group. If there has been a second epenthesis event, and one of these is partly areal, it might be better assumed just for these Kola Sami developments. In support of this option, similar epenthesis takes place furthermore in Skolt, where we have *oa > *ua > initially *vua in general, e.g. vuä´lǧǧ ‘shoulder’, vuäggad ‘to angle’.

In Finnic, we also find the combination *voo-. That this, too, is partly from *oo- seems again clear for similar reasons. Examples where this is definitely secondary from a source with no original glide however seem to number no more than four, most of them Baltic loans:

  • *vooci ‘year’ < *ooci < *aaci << Proto-Uralic *ad₁ə, cf. Khanty *āL
  • *voohi ‘goat’ < *ooši < *aaši ← Baltic *āž-
  • *voota ‘animal hide’ < *oota < *aata ← Baltic *āda
  • *vootna ‘lamb’ < *ootna < *aatna ← Baltic *āgnas

From the 2nd of these we have also *vo(o)hla ‘kid’, but this could be also a Finnic-internal derivation after epenthesis. Lithuanian does show a similar diminutive with an l-suffix, oželis ‘young male goat’, but this does not look like an exact match; from an old *i-stem we’d expect perhaps **vohli or **voohe̮l. An uncertain example is also *voode̮h or *voode̮k ‘bed’: if not a derivative of *voota ‘hide’, it could be also from PU *ad₁ə- ‘to sleep’ (*oδa- in UEW).

Previously, per some views, it was also thought that long *oo would allow preservation of old *w- in cases like *voori ‘mountain’, *voole̮- ‘to whittle’, *voi ‘butter’ (if < *wooji), but now that we can typically derive *oo from previous *aa, this will be unnecessary: *v- < *w- was preserved because by the time of *wo- > *o-, an open vowel occurred here instead, e.g. *walə- rather than UEW’s *woole-. (But all this was already unnecessary, because even with loss, later epenthesis would have given e.g. *oolə- > *voole̮- again anyway.)

Besides raising of previous long *aa, another source of *oo in Finnic is the sequence *uwa. Here too we have a candidate for *v-epenthesis: *voo ‘flow, current’, probably from Proto-Uralic *uwa. Some years back Aikio has also noted / rehabilitated however a Nganasan cognate buo which would seemingly project instead back to *wuwa. I am not convinced if this is correct, though. Even for Proto-Samoyedic we have currently no established examples of word-initial *wu-. It could be relevant that nearby in Nenets and Enets we also have several cases of glide epenthesis before close vowels, e.g. Tundra Nenets /jiľē-/ < *elä- ‘to live’ (irregular however; the general pattern looks messy and maybe involves various internal loans and/or hypercorrections). Transfer from the general Samoyedic term *wäŋ- ‘to flow’ could be also possible; the Nganasan word having been earlier considered its reflex entirely, but this would be implausible for several phonetic irregularities (we’d expect **beŋ).

Parallel to *uwa >> *oo, Finnic has also *üwä >> *öö, [4] and also among the words reflecting these there is a candidate for *v-epenthesis: *vöö ‘belt’. No original *w- is indicated at least by Mari *ü̆štə (while Samic *əvē and Hungarian öv are non-diagnostic). An original initial glide could be indicated in a proposed cognate from Komi: vöń ~ voń ~ Jazva vuń, but this is off in its vocalism and the nasal is a poor match with anything else; very much so if from original *ń, less so if we reconstructed *ŋ, but its palatalization would be then not well explained. I also think that even if we reconstructed e.g. *wüŋä, old *wü- > *ü- should still have applied here, such that we’d again need eventual *v-epenthesis: *wüŋä > *üŋä > *üwä > *öö > *vöö. The same argument holds, I think, likewise for ‘flow’: even with a reconstruction *wuwa, the pre-vocalization form in Finnic should still have been already *uwa.


So far most of this is a summary of current standard understanding. There are, though, also a few complications within Finnic for fully general *v-epenthesis before long mid labial vowels.

The lesser of these is probably Finnish uoma ‘riverbed’, clearly a derivative from *voo, where I assume lack of v- is dissimilation from suffixal -m-. This could be somewhat late, as the word is not found elsewhere in Finnic. Another suggestion has been that it could be hypercorrection motivated by Far Northern vuoma, since Torne Valley dialects also have secondary *oo- > uo- > vuo- (e.g. in the personal name Olav → standard Uolevi > Torne Valley Vuolevi) — but this seems to not match with a relatively wide dialect distribution of uoma, or with how Far Northern vuoma means instead ‘large swamp’. The semantic shift appears to be due to a detour thru Sami *vōmē ‘river valley, forest or swamp in a river valley’ (nominally already Proto-Samic, found all across the group, but more likely a slightly later loan from Old Finnish / Proto-North Finnic *(v)ooma). [5] Similar dissimilation seems to be moreover found also in North Karelian uova ‘water on ice’, apparently < *vuo-va and probably in origin an active participle ‘(out)flowing’.

An already older counterexample is pan-Finnic < ⁽*⁾öö ‘night’. Homonomy avoidance with *vöö ‘belt’ has been proposed, but I don’t think this makes a high amount of sense, since this might have also been *öö already before *v-epenthesis. My thinking is that the difference might be chronological. The original Uralic reconstruction of ‘night’ is troublesome, but both Samic *ījə and Mordvinic *vĕ indicate this was an original *ə-stem with a word-medial semivowel. These are a third large group where long vowels arise in Finnic, and it might have been still later than *aa > *oo, *UwA > *OO (with which it does not have to be simultaneous!), and *v-epenthesis. I believe there are other indications too that contraction in this group could have been late: we find e.g. examples with internal variation such as Fi. povi ‘bosom’ (similarly *povi in most of Finnic; though also põvvi in Votic) corresponding to pṷṷ < *poo in South Estonian; inversely Fi. pyy ‘hazelhen’ (similarly *püü in most of Finnic) corresponding to püvi in South Estonian. Vocalization also might not have arisen consistently in these paradigms, but giving initially e.g. *püwi : *püw(ə)- > *püwi : *püü-, from which one stem or the other could have been generalized. This could also help explain some remaining instances like ⁽*⁾suvi : *suve̮- ‘summer’, where no general vocalization is apparent at all.

Would we have any explicit examples where also *oo- < *owə- then fails to take *v-epenthesis? I believe there is one, if slightly disguised: ⁽*⁾oinas ‘ram’. This has always been considered to be a Baltic loanword going back to *awinas, but explaining *oi- from *awi- is not trivial. *o is not trouble, as we have other parallels for *aw being substituted as *ow in Finnic (and we could in this case, in theory, also propose a very old loan with PIE *o preserved). [6] But instead of a somewhat ad hoc rule directly deleting *w before *i (and then why only here, but not in the likes of suvi, or for that matter word-initially in cases like viisi ‘five’?), I would like to simply apply usual *w-vocalization, to the following effect: *owinas > *ou.inas > *ooinas > *oinas. But to not end up with **voinas we would have to, indeed, keep general *w-vocalization to a later point in chronology than *v-epenthesis.

As a side effect, we find also a chronological reason to think that what I have been so far calling *v-epenthesis was indeed originally phonetically simpler *w-epenthesis, and feeds then later into general *w > v in Finnic. It may, indeed, even fail to do so; [wuo] (or Western [wuɑ]) is attested for /vuo/ in some Finnish dialects / idiolects, although I have not seen this claimed to be fully systematic for any dialect area. Old reconstructions have projected *v at times as far back as Proto-Finno-Ugric, but I believe the productive direction of research is indeed to treat *w > v as a recent macro-areal European innovation, as is known to be the case within at least Germanic and Romance; and thus perhaps post-Proto-Finnic (or also say post-Proto-Samic, cf. footnote 2). Explicit evidence from anywhere in Uralic for this idea is not easy to find in the absense of early attestations, but it seems close attention to relative chronology can provide hints.

[1] Some cases before *u have been proposed as well, but I think this was not possible in PU proper. The clearest case of *wod₂ə ‘new’ (UEW’s *wuδʹe) I reconstruct with secondary *o > *u in most branches in the context *oCə.
[2] As usual in Uralic, *v really means the approximant [ʋ]. I consider it possible that actually Proto-Samic may have still had indeed even *w, which occurs today only dialectally in South Sami, but this could be quite plausibly archaic. This could be also areally connected with preservation of Proto-Germanic (and PIE) *w also in neighboring Elfdalian. Outright contact-induced reversion *ʋ > w is not entirely ruled out either I suppose, but typological parallels for this direction of change seem hard to find.
[3] Often interpreted as being phonemically tense open-mid /ɔː/, though I believe at least no phonetic [ɔ] ever actually occurred here: the *a-umlaut by which this diphthong arises can be simply taken to be direct *o…a > *oa…a. An open-mid vowel is more likely in unstressed syllables in Proto-Samic (as it arises primarily from *aw, and later on merges into open *ā in Skolt and Kola Sami), but here no height contrast exists, and I would equate it phonologically with stressed *ō, not with the diphthong *oa.
[4] The intermediates for this contraction do not seem trivial to me. There is no general lowering of *u…a, *ü…ä to **o…a, **ö…ä, nor labialization to **u…o, **ü…ö; perhaps the first step should be thus the phonological loss or rather reanalysis of *w after a close labial vowel, such that [uwa üwä] are now seen as /u.a/, /ü.ä/, which could perhaps meld into diphthongs [u͡a], [ü͡ä]. Another option could be a stress shift to give initially short monosyllables and secondary vowel lengthening. This works very nicely for the back case: *ua > *wa > *waa > *woo. But in the front case though we’d expect a parallel *wää to give **wee (cf. e.g. *wärə > *wäärə > *weeri > *veeri ‘side’) and would have to assume something to the effect of *ü to have given a marginal *ẅ [ɥ] during the entire process. Including also in consonant-initial cases like *šüwä ‘good’ >> *höö-tä- ‘to benefit’ (thus *šẅä > *šẅää > *šẅöö > *šöö-)? Probably more trouble that this is worth.
[5] The wider sense in Sami seems to me to be archaic: the Finnic toponymic formant *-ma is probably from *maa ‘land, earth’, thus here we’d have a pseudo-PF compound *voo-maa ‘stream land’, likely giving first ‘river valley’ and only from there modern Fi. ‘riverbed’.
[6] In loans from Baltic, we have also e.g. ⁽*⁾routa ‘ground frost’ ← *graudā; ⁽*⁾torvi ‘horn (as instrument)’ < *towri ← *taure.

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An exercise in (over?)reading ADMIXTUREs

Discussion in the previous post’s comments has come around to what we think we know and what we might be able to infer about the genetics of Uralic speakers. I have no direct data on this at my disposal (nor would I know off the cuff what to do with it if I did), but once again I find that already staring at published results seems to show a lot of details that would allow also closer discussion.

The most popular presentation of results on Uralic overall genetics might be still the 2018 paper “Genes reveal traces of common recent demographic history (…)” by the Tambets et al. group (surely it is by now the most influential, at least). This demonstrated, firstly, a broad west–east cline structure with offshoots to the south (Hungarian) and north (Samic), which may have been about as expected. But more interesting may have been their ADMIXTURE charts in Fig. 3A, that revealed at 9-component resolution a component (in magenta in their figure) that seems to correlate surprizingly well with Uralic-speaking peoples.

The match is still far from perfect. This component seems to be basically absent in Hungarians, while being well present in Volga and South Siberian Turkic peoples, outright a majority in Kets, and trickling marginally also into e.g. Russians, Swedes and Poles in the west (much less so in Latvians), Mongolians in the east. Its peak representation within the study is at >90% in Khanty & in a distinct subgroup of Mansi. Some Selkups also show a high proportion. Elsewhere it is mostly 30–40% though, usually in primary competition with another ancestry component (in navy) that is well spread thru Europe and reaches >90% in Latvians, almost as much in Lithuanians and Estonians. The lowest proportion of magenta in Uralic speakers occurs in Nganasans, whose main ancestry component at this resolution (in orange) is in common with all Altaic-speaking populations (> 80% in Yakuts, Evenkis, Evens), well present also in Yukaghirs and Kets and with a clear trace in Japanese and a subgroup of Han. All these complications have left me with the feeling that trying to ascribe this ancestry as being specifically spread by Proto-Uralic speakers may be too optimistic. Most pessimistically, it could represent instead an already pre-Uralic genetic cline, or assimilation to one — especially under current theories where Uralic spread (at least) to the west essentially within a metal trade network, thus perhaps as a trade language, at which point in time there may then not even have been such a thing as a single “Proto-Uralic-speaking people” anymore. Probably further back in time we could find something fitting this definition (and contrary to my last post, still most likely as the actual majority ancestors of at least one actual Uralic-speaking group), but if people A teach their language to people B who teach it to people C and D, who teach it to…, we might quickly end up chasing false leads about genetic markers.

Tambets et al. highlight also the 11-component resolution, where a new component appears (in light blue) that captures both the previously magenta + navy ancestry of the Swedish Sami, ending up at 98% among them!, overtakes magenta also among Kola Sami and Finnic speakers (but interestingly not North Russians) and appears in some 5%-ish proportions eastwards until the Mansi (and some 1%-ish trace presence all across Siberia). This remains without specific discussion in the paper, but has by now often come up in discussions with colleagues. My current understanding is that the ADMIXTURE algorithm in fact prefers to fit components to specific populations or individuals actually present in its data. And when a population has a distinct ancestry component not found in pure form (in this case we are likely dealing with the Paleo-Laplandic and/or Paleo-Lakelandic substrates in the Sami), it cannot reconstruct it. Instead a new component ends up representing this actual ancestry + a proportion of a reference group’s other compareable ancestry components, which then means even a small fragment of this “underlying” ancestry, together with other shared components, will now appear in larger size also elsewhere. So since the Sami still have some general-European ancestry, perhaps with drift or selection having emphasized some specific part of it, we find this reflected in a trickle of light blue also in e.g. Bulgarians or Hungarians. Since they also still have some eastern / Siberian ancestry, we find a similar trickle also in e.g. Udmurts (who have a good amount of general-European ancestry too) or Khanty. But then if this component is not directly representative of some old Proto-Sami or pre-Proto-Sami ancestry, and instead groups in also parts of other ancestry components that tend to occur together with one, why not also the same in other components? We also see that the equation 50% magenta + 50% navy = light blue, roughly valid for the Sami, does not hold in other populations. “Finnish light blue” is closer to one part magenta + two parts navy, and also leaves a little bit of magenta behind. “Veps light blue” looks more like the inverse: 60% magenta + 40% navy. “Komi light blue” and “Udmurt light blue” look to me to be taking in a dash of green, too. “Mari light blue”, looking closely, could involve a tiny reduction also in their yellow-coded ancestry (but also alternately, from the appearence of the light brown ancestry component in the chart).

Moreover I have not seen or heard it noted so far at all that their fuller data, provided as an appendix, includes also further turns of this sort. A very similar update seems to happen at the 14-component resolution: here a component in dark orange appears that captures the majority of the previously magenta and orange ancestry of the Nganasans. Other peoples who gain a large chunk of this end up being the Nenets and Selkups to the west, Evenkis, Evens and Oroqens to the east, and one specific Yakut individual and Koryak individual. Smaller amounts appear in e.g. Khanty, Tuvinians and in a sub-population of Dolgans, and a small sliver in all Japanese. Interestingly this component also, even at a low proportion, seems to completely replace light orange ancestry in several Uralic-speaking groups: besides the Nenets, who now end up as ca. 60% magenta, 40% dark orange, this also holds for the Khanty, Mansi and Komis. And also, not for Maris. Surely a sign that their orange ancestry is specifically recent from Turkic speakers, not ancient Siberian independently of general Uralic origin.

Should we assume this is, as I speculated might be the case for the Sami-affiliated component 11, in reflection of some lost substrate population that was closest of all to Nganasans? This I am much less sure of. The order in which components appear in ADMIXTURE results is clearly largest-first. Component 14 is found in only few peoples and is thus forced to be distinguished late from “general Altaic” ancestry. I must wonder is this might change if we pared the dataset down, making e.g. Nganasans a larger proportion of the data; and perhaps in a different order we’d find also find different split topology, such as 14 initially grouping with 9?

A second update to the component analysis of several Uralic-speaking groups is no. 16 in pink, likely representing no ancient ancestry at all but the formation by convergence of a specific secondary mixture: a “Volga region” component, appearing at 90% in Maris, very high also in Udmurts and Chuvashes. There is medium presence in Bashkirs, Tatars and Komi, smaller amounts appear in Russians, Mordvins and Mansi, and clear traces in all Turkic-speaking people and even in Poles. Interestingly, perhaps none in the Finnic peoples (but the appendix image is not high resolution enough for me to be sure of this).


Here we might move in the blog post from “reading” into “overreading”. Can we perhaps on closer looking work out what does the order and exact form of the splitting of ADMIXTURE components signify more specifically?

K=3. At this resolution we have three very broad components: a dark brown component that we might call sub-Saharan African or West African, at 100% in Mandenkas and Yorubas; a blue component at 100% in e.g. Basques and widely spread in Eurasia; and a yellow component at 100% in e.g. the Han and the Japanese. [1] Not highly useful for understanding anything about Uralic peoples: everyone on European side mostly blue with a small dash of yellow, Khanty and Samoyedics majority yellow with a clear piece of blue; though there are signs of other interesting patterns elsewhere, such as about 40% blue in Ethiopians, 5% brown in Georgians and Armenians.

K=4. This splits the blue component in two, into a broadly northern one in navy and a southern one keeping the medium-blue. No one ends up as purely either. Blue without navy appears, it seems to me, only in Ethiopians and Indians! The highest absolute amount of navy is in Estonians, Latvians, Russians at around 80%. Armenians and Georgians come out at the other end with 90% blue, 10% navy. The Swedish Sami, Nenets and Khanty (but no one further east) seem to end up with complete blue → navy conversion. So might e.g. Dolgans, Evenkis or Kets, but they have so little blue that I cannot be sure. Yakuts keep on a sliver of medium blue, Volga region Turkics follow median Uralic speakers in becoming majority-navy, other Turkic speakers maintain medium blue as the majority.

K=5. This splits off from yellow an orange component, that appears broadly across Siberia and/or Uralic speakers and in traces across Europe. The westernmost people who retain any consistent yellow are Bashkirs. Most Common Turkic speakers have a nearly even split. Chuvashes by contrast convert nearly all their yellow into orange, patterning here as western. Yellow remains in Indian control groups like Kannadigas. Han gain some 2% orange but remain the “type specimen” of yellow. The Japanese and a Han subgroup that also shows a small dash of blue and, later on, green (perhaps indicative of something like Manchu ancestry?) gain maybe 3–4%.

K=6. A light green component appears that is at its maximum in India, replacing both blue and orange here. Most Iranic peoples and neighbors (the Burusho and Brahui) go from about 90% blue / 10% orange (and a dash of other colors) to about 65% green / 35% blue, and seem to add back a trace amount of yellow. Green appears also in people from the Caucasus (at the expense of all of orange, blue and navy) and, less strongly, in Turkic and Uralic speakers. Further west, we see in Saudis, Yemenites and Palestinians a seemingly total conversion of both orange and navy, some decrease in blue too, for 15% green. Turks, Azeris, Kurds, “Iranians” (= Persians proper?) add an even more noticable 20% but still keep maybe 2-5% navy and orange. Orange traces in Europe mostly turn green, with the exception of Russians and Germans. In Moroccans and in Mzāb (a Berber group) navy now disappears, Sardinians go from 50% blue / 50% navy to 75% / 25%, and Basques from 33% / 66% to 50% / 50% — without any green appearing in any of these four. In Ethiopians a tiny sliver of green turns up. Altogether a confusing turn of components that seems to be mainly really about rebalancing something about the very vague blue / navy split.

By this point it seems navy is no more generally northern but rather northwestern in its distribution, still at its strongest in Balto-Slavic, Finnic and Samic speakers, with Germanics and Volga Region Uralics not far behind. I do not know what to make of its medium presence in Siberia and therearound, with fairly high navy : green rations in e.g. Kets, Selkups and Mongolis. Some individuals are probably though simply mixed half-Russian: there looks to be e.g. one Yukaghir, two Koryaks, at least three Chukchis who remain about 50% navy + medium-blue to the end of the analysis even after other components yet have been split off from these. One other “Chukchi” looks entirely Slavic; or possibly e.g. part Mordvin or German, but anyway not at all Siberian.

K=7. A tan “Beringian” component splits off from the general Siberian orange, at almost 100% in most Koryaks and Chukchi, a neat 50% also in the individuals with large blue and navy proportions, and remains definitive of these people until the end of the analysis. Only the Evens gain a noteworthy minority proportion, but the better-resolution data in the main paper shows that a small 1–2% sliver of this component still extends thruout Asia and into eastern and central Europe in e.g. Bulgarians or Poles or Finns. Not, however, into the Sami or Swedes.

K=8. The confusing green component splits further. The Indian half of it turns dark olive, at its highest proportion in “Malayans” (does this mean Malayalams? I would not guess Malays). A small portion of this appears in Iranians, Azeris, Turkmens and an even smaller trace in Syrians, Yemenese, Lezgins, but Near Easterners mostly keep light green. Pathans, Balochis etc. end up evently split or slightly more green than olive. In the Caucasus light green now becomes the majority over blue. Europe thru Siberia show only light green; which also seems to marginally increase at the expense of blue in e.g. French, Italians, Maris and also in Ethiopians. No effects on proportion of navy. An odd side effect might be also turning the sliver of eastern ancestry in Turks and Azeris now from orange to yellow, although the proportions of these across Siberia and Central Asia remain stable.

K=9. Enter the “Uralic” component, distributed as described above. This turns out to be mainly at the expense of orange and navy. Most Khantys remain 98% magenta from here to the end of the analysis. In peoples who were not included in the figure in the main paper, a small dash appears also in e.g. Iranians, Germans, Caucasians (Chechens and Lezgins in particular), Pathans, Burushos, and even Mzābs. In a few of these cases, detectable amounts of Proto-Uralic or even para-Uralic ancestry would be quite surprizing, I think.

K=10. A light brown component appears at the expense of primarily blue, secondarily dark brown, up to 80%+ in Mzābs. Replaces blue completely in Ethiopians and also replaces small traces of blue that up to now have been present in the third (and vague) deep African control group of “Bantus”. In Saudis this replaces dark brown completely but leaves a tiny sliver of blue. Outside the Near East this appears e.g. at 20% in Cypriots, 10% in Portuguese, Sardinians, Armenians (only a trace in Georgians), maybe <5% in Spaniards and across the Balkans. A few localized bits of dark brown in e.g. Sindhi or Balochi seem to remain. The new version of medium blue concurrently becomes more prevalent in West Europe at the expense of navy, rising e.g. from 25% to 50% in French, from 50% to 80% in Basque. Nothing changes in Siberia.

K=11. The light blue Swedish Sami-maximized component appears and remains at >98% in them until the end of the study. No apparent side effects beyond the Uralic/Nordic zone.

K=12. Light brown splits in two. The component that keeps the color grows to 100% in some Mzābs and remains there until the end of the study, is well-present also in Moroccans, and appears also in Portuguese and Spaniards (thus, at the western end of its range). Probably everywhere else previous light brown turns a pinkish brown. Balochi and Brahui seem to develop a larger proportion of brown, maybe at the expense of their previous blueish (either medium or navy) ancestry.

K=13. Olive splits in two and claims also some more of light green, whereever it was present. The component that keeps the olive color is now at 80%+ in Brahui (previously 60% green 40% olive) and becomes a more notable minority in e.g. Iranians, Tajiks and Lezgins. A light dirty green becomes the new South Indian majority and also ousts remaining yellow from here. The only clear inroads this makes beyond South Asia are into Pathans and Burusho, maybe a sliver in Tajiks and Uzbeks. Light green claims also yet more of blue from Georgians and Abkhazes, rising in them now to 90%.

K=14. The Nganasan-maximized component in dark orange, as noted above. As one side effect, the proportion of magenta in Kalmyks rises from marginal to maybe 10%, at the expense of light orange.

K=15. Another split from the generic-Siberian orange: a grey component that claims about 90% ancestry in Yakuts (aside from the one Nganasan-like, or even more closely, Even-like individual), 75% in Evenkis, 60% in Dolgans (who all now have about no orange); 50% in Yukaghirs and Evens (who retain 10% and 15% orange respectively); 5% in Buryats and Mongolians (who remain majority orange), traces in Turkic speakers further to the west. These colors, too, thus remain largely orthogonal to the linguistic division of Siberia. Light orange proportion in Han seems to rise slightly.

K=16. The Volga component in pink, as noted above, and yet another one orthogonal to linguistic classification. No side effects elsewhere that I can see on the proportions of magenta / green / navy that it replaces.

K=17. Some sort of a Levant component in dark grey enters, at 100% in some Palestinians but petering out to <5% in others; mostly thus replacing pink-brown and green. 5% also in Cypriots, only trace amounts in Jordanians and, oddly enough, Basques, Romanians and Gagauzes. I’m not sure if this has any presence anywhere else.

K=18. Here we gain a Sardinian component in purple, replacing almost all of their medium blue and also most of their pink-brown. Concurrently, Basque now becomes the unquestioned type specimen of medium-blue at maybe 98%, losing even its last traces of navy; its dark gray from the previous step seems to turn into purple, though! In the Middle East and southern Caucasus (Armenians, Georgians, Abkhazians) blue also mainly turns into purple. Italians, Romanians and Slavic speakers gain more purple than blue; more blue than purple at least in western Romance, Germanic, Iranic, Finnic, Mordvinic speakers and everyone in the North Caucasus, including the Turkophones (Balkars, Kumyks, Nogais).

K=19. We have one last change affecting Uralic speakers: a sky blue component appears at 80%+ in Ket and very variable among Selkups, anywhere from 90%+ to 10%. Smaller proportions appear mainly in South Siberian Turkic: Tuvans, Shors, Altais, Khakassians; as well as in Nenetses and in the non-Khanty-like part of Mansis (the Khantys still remain solid magenta). Possibly a dash in Uzbeks and Tajiks, though these appear by now as highly mixed populations with a little of almost every component (the former plurality orange, the latter plurality green + almost as much olive). Maybe same in Kyrgyzes and Kazakhs, who have a stronger orange plurality but still likewise a very diverse collection of components.

K=20. The last component of the study rearranges again the greenish colors: a new bright green hits a 90% among some of the Burushos, turns up in some proportion in most Iranics / Central Asians, has again a spot appearence among Lezgins and Chechens, and I think even at least one Syrian. Really nothing of interest for Uralic though.


My initial impression from this deep dive is not so much that I’ve definitely learned new things (though interestingly many known results of population genetics do appear here in a nutshell, such as Near Eastern connections of the Sardinians or the Ethiopians) as much as, first of all, that there would be likely benefits to re-doing this more detailed analysis with fewer “distractions”. Suppose we discard those peoples that end up generating their “own” components without much relevance for distinguishing Uralic speakers or their neighbors: that is the Mzābs and Moroccans (#12), South Indians (#8 and #13), Palestinians and Jordanians (#17), Burushos (#20), maybe one (but maybe not both) of the Sardinians & the Basques (#18). Do we still find the other components appearing in the same shape and same order? What six other components do we obtain instead if running the analysis to K=20?

We might also leave aside groups like the Japanese, Orcadians, Balkars, Abkhazians, Ossetians who don’t seem to add much of their own, to have Uralics and neighbors be a larger proportional part of the data (yes, Northwest Caucasians and Ossetians may have had contacts with migration-era Hungarians, but we can by now take it as known that modern Hungarians look genetically generically Slavic ~ Romanian). And since the algorithm seems to also look at the pre-given ethnicity bins, what would happen if we e.g. split in advance the Mansi or Kola Sami samples in their apparent subgroups? Or removed the apparent half-Russians from amongst many peoples of Siberia?

My second observation is that there’s a suspicious lack of any component that we could think of as even vaguely tracking most other larger language families: Indo-European (or its subgroups) or Turkic or Tungusic, without spilling in large percentage into their neighboring language families. Orange after the Chukotkan split in K=7 does maybe a tolerable job at tracking classical Ural–Altaic, but still keeps on also Yukaghir and Ket. And there is no hope at any of the resolutions here for telling apart e.g. an Abkhaz from a Balkar or a Persian from an Azeri. Perhaps the ability to still distinguish Finns and Swedes, or Khantys from everyone, is somewhat a happy accident really. Everywhere else Uralic-speaking people continue to look more similar to their neighbors than to their distant linguistic relatives.

Thirdly, towards the end of study we have also ended up with a fairly clear split of components into two sorts: those that have their “type specimens” and those that do not. Most of the former seem to be also very localized, though a few are not.

  • Typified, widespread: medium blue (Basques), purple (Sardinians), yellow (Han).
  • Typified, local: dark brown (sub-Saharan African), medium brown (Mzābs), dark grey (some Palestinians), light blue (Swedish Sami), magenta (Khantys), dirty green (some South Indians), sky blue (Kets + some Selkups), dark orange (Nganasans), tan (Chukotkans). The most borderline cases are pink (Maris; still with small bits of navy / green / magenta), grey (Yakuts; still with bits of, at least, dark orange) and medium green (Burushos; still with other green hues).
  • No type specimen, widespread: pink-brown, navy, light green, dark green, orange.

The impression I get from the big picture is that these “components” are thus unlikely to represent any sort of recent unique markers. They seem to come mainly from already Paleolithic genetic variation, sometimes probably eventually approximating unique “poles” (yellow, medium-blue, maybe tan) but more often probably representing specific proportions of mixture, especially if that has been later on well preserved in some peoples. So in particular, even if component 9 had something to do with the spread of Uralic, I do not think it can be read as being “the” or even necessarily a very high part of Proto-Uralic ancestry. Rather, it is definitionally simply the genetics of the Khanty, which very likely wraps into it still also West Siberian ancestry components other than just Uralic. I would likewise also avoid readings such as 11 as “Proto-Samic”, 14 as “Proto-Samoyedic”, 18 as “Proto-Yeniseic”; especially given the case of 16, which could not possibly be any sort of either “Proto-Volgaic” or “Proto-Bulghar”. The method is in the end still one of sorting synchronic variation into components, even though it assumes a model of components historically mixing together in some people… and, it seems, not mixing in others.


What we could also find in ADMIXTURE charts is, however, an interesting sort of a low-resolution but high-dimensional presentation of PCA-like results. n-component mixtures form an n-dimensional vector space with positive values, normed to 100% ancestry (i.e. the positive-sign 1/2ⁿ-th of a n-sphere), which removes one dimension; while PCA graphs are two-dimensional slices of an in principle arbitrarily-many-dimensional and un-normed vector space. That is, 2 ADMIX components are equal to a linear space from 100% of one ancestry to 100% of another. 3 components would span an octant of a sphere, that we could flatten to a triangle plot. 4 components would span a topological tetrahedron, 5 components would span a topological 5-simplex, etc.

Tambets et al.’s data appendix provides also principal component projections up to N=5. This analysis has tighter geographic cutoffs and lacks e.g. Africans, South Indians and Chukotkans; so I will compare these with cases up to K=9 and ignore (the dimensions represented by) dark brown, tan (as distinct from orange) and olive (as distinct from green). This conveniently also brings us to the Uralic-like component 9 in the analysis.

  • Principal component 1 is strongly west to east distributed, lowest in Basques and Sardinians, highest in Han and Evens. Could be fairly well derived from the ratio [2] of (navy + blue + green) to (magenta + orange + yellow), but also even better and more simple: the ratio of blue to yellow at the K=3 level of analysis, where Khantys are still mixed, not off in their own corner.
  • PC 2 is roughly northwest to southwest, highest in Swedish Sami followed by Finnics & Baltics, lowest in Saudis and one Brahui. Only medium-high in Siberian Uralics and only medium-low in Han. Below K=9, a ratio of (navy + orange) to (blue + green + yellow) works fairly well for this, while magenta again fails to be useful. The K=4 split of just navy from blue would not match with this however, we do need orange.
  • PC 3 is high in Nganasan, middling in Sami, low in Sardinians, Basques, Han. Ratio of orange to non-orange works decently here. This will be in some cases improved once magenta is split off from orange, in others not.
  • PC 4 seems at first weird geographically: very high in Sardinians, Saudis, Nganasans, Evens, very low in Indians and kinda low in Han. But I believe the sign of PC levels is not actually significant of anything; some charts in the study also already show the same PC at inverted scales. If we do this, ratio of (yellow + green) to (blue + navy + orange + magenta) works tolerably (even if this would still put the Han higher up than Indians).
  • PC 5 is high in Sami, Arabs and again one Brahui, fairly high also in Khantys; low in Caucasians, slightly low also in Yakuts. This by now has clearly no ADMIX fit for it: at K=6…9 Caucasians and Arabs look like a very similar green + blue mixture, and they remain not too far apart thruout the analysis.

It seems we have already reached the point where PCA analysis diverges from ADMIX. Presumably the reason is a greedy vs. non-greedy algorithm. Early principal components are not affected by calculating additional ones. Early ADMIX splits however frequently end up re-balanced, capturing only a smaller proportion of ancestry, once we try to fit a specific higher number of components. Both approaches may have their benefits.

It would also really seem, also from here, that some of the dimensions spanned by ADMIX components are not independent. This concerns mainly the localized components. Looking at the east-west axis, we can find some peoples, say, between tan and magenta (Selkups) or between magenta and light blue (Finnics, Kola Sami), but we really have nothing directly between tan and light blue. So this could be in effect treated as more of a single axis, where we have added a somewhat artificial “magenta pole” in the middle to split this in two. This is probably already reflected in how magenta appears basically in half from orange, in half from navy! There could be many other pairings too though, such as tan → orange → green, or orange → magenta → navy. Anything like this that would provide dimensionality reduction would be probably analytical progress, but how to best do this kind of component combination, or to avoid adding components that do this, wouldn’t be an easy mathematical task.

Lastly, there is a notable pattern in the PCA results that seems to be wholly unavailable in the ADMIX results: the same few specific peoples always end up on the borders of the charts! Generally these are at geographic remove. Saudis, Sami and Han as southern, northern and eastern outliers seem about as expected. But also: Nganasans have this property more strongly than Evenkis and Evens to their east; Basques and Sardinians have this property more strongly than Portuguese to their west or Cypriots to their (net) south. I suspect this demonstrates PCA is in fact better than ADMIX at providing hints of actually archaic rather than merely distinctively-mixed ancestry components, that might lie further beyond these peoples’ positions on the charts. We know from other studies by now that this is what happens with European hunter-gatherer archeogenetic data: they end up even lower on PC 1 than Basques and Sardinians. If there are some signals of completely distinct ancestry groups to be found among Uralic peoples, these are probably better represented by ADMIX components 11 (Sami) and 14 (Nganasan) than by 9 (Khanty) and 16 (Mari). But then the West European history also at least suggests such signals might be very old, shaped by many migrations and repopulations before the modern day, unlikely to have been widely around in pure form.


All my freestyle analysis here is possibly re-deriving understanding that is already known to genetics scholars and enthusiasts. Still, if my own experience is anything to go by, most of the rest of us have probably not seen anywhere near enough of this kind of basic how-to-read-the-results discussion: the primary genetics papers themselves are usually rather terse on this. If anyone is passing by and knows of other good, perhaps illustrated, guides about what do ADMIX or PCA results actually mean, do drop a note!

[1] How accidental are these colors, one wonders…
[2] Or perhaps, their difference? I’d have to check with actual data to see what would be the best arithmetic relationship between these scales.

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Posted in Commentary, Methodology

A “pet joke theory”: Uralic from the south

In the comments of my last post, we have gotten some discussion going on the external connections of Uralic, mainly concerning the IE and Siberian directions (whether they are complementary hypotheses, etc.). I haven’t gone too much into the question there myself, to avoid digressing too much and since I could really write several full posts’ worth on the matter as well. For now I will note that, while I’ve looked into several options, I find that Indo-Uralic remains clearly the easiest to work on; but this does not have to mean closeness of a relationship, being surely first of all due to much better and deeper-reaching materials being available on the reconstruction of Indo-European than, say, Yukaghir.

In recent times ongoing paleogenetics research has been however mainly stressing the Siberian origin of the known genetic markers of Uralic-speaking populations, starting already from the Y-chromosomal haplogroup N1a1 (alias N3, N1c) and today being expanded into autosomal genetics as well, the newest volley being Zeng et al. 2025. A few Uralic-internal developments could also be suggestive of needing to pay more attention in this direction. I am thinking maybe most of all of the discovery, as of the recent PhD thesis Kaheinen 2023, that Nganasan, the most divergent-looking yet in a few ways notably archaic Samoyedic language, in the far northeast of the known extent of Uralic, actually cannot be identified to have gone thru any sort of a clear substrate event, unlike we know to have been the case in the Samic branch in the far northwest. This would slightly vindicate the already earlier habit (whose initial motivation I do not know) of using the Nganasans as a proxy for the original “deep Siberian” genetic contribution to Proto-Uralians. The idea probably would regardless still call for closer attention to the formation of, firstly, the other Samoyedic peoples, and secondly, of the Samoyedic branch in the first place; since Nganasan regardless still at least groups within Samoyedic, not as an outgroup of Uralic in general. Similar metrics such as phonotactic innovations or irregular external correspondences would probably indeed point to some degree of substrate or adstrate influence in overall Samoyedic, at least (we also know that some of this can be in fact attributed to Turkic and pre-Tocharian). The main direction where appeals to substrate influence have in recent years been rising in popularity is however in the western end of the family, and I expect more will keep coming of this. In-between, I’d hope for future probing of Ob-Ugric for this sort of evidence as well. My current hunch is that Khanty has probably more Paleosiberian substrate in it than Mansi does, but this is hard to tell since we do not have much well-collated materials on Proto-Mansi and Proto-Khanty in themselves. (Honti’s 1982 collection of proposed Proto-Ob-Ugric lexicon remains a useful start, but necessarily shows only a part of the picture and cannot differentiate much between the two.)

Genes, regardless, do not speak. The long-known language shift among the Sami has been for generations a well known warning sign to Uralicists of jumping to too many conclusions about equating genetic relationships with linguistic. The 90s to 00s continuity-theory debacle in Finland and Estonia has been another, more recent cautionary tale, and the very generically Central European genetics of the Hungarians is yet another. It is reasonable to expect that languages spread with some particular parcels of genes, but there is no precise proportion of ancestry that would show this to have happened, or not happened.

In an exercise in pouring cold water on wishful thinking, then, I’d like to present here in outlines a contrarian hypothesis I have been assembling specifically for the purpose of being inconvenient for, among other things, current-day genetics-centered Uralo-Siberian thinking:

  • Proto-Uralic proper was spoken within the Sintashta culture — parallel all along to Proto-Indo-Iranian under some sort of stable sociolectal stratification (e.g. associated with different clans or castes), as known from later steppe federations.
  • Pre-Uralic thus precedes IE in Central Asia, and some form of para-Uralic may have been spoken also within the Bactria-Margiana Archeological Complex (BMAC). The closest extant relative of Uralic might be neither IE nor any of the Siberian language families, but instead Dravidian.
  • Uralic rather than Indo-Iranian gets the upper hand in Sintashta-influenced trade networks around the southern Urals, and becomes the lingua franca across a variety of populations here. This perhaps follows the outlines of already pre-Indo-European trade connections in the region. All attested Uralic languages descend from this initial language shift to non-native populations. Most of the “linguistic archeology” vocabulary, e.g. names of conifers or fishes, is also picked up at this point from local languages that end up substratal in various proportions to the later Uralic branches. Indo-Iranian-originating cultural vocabulary often also fails to stick thru these transitions, explaining in part its at times very piecemeal or localized distribution in attested Uralic.
  • The reason why “Finno-Ugric” looks lexically relatively homogeneous vs. Samoyedic relatively divergent, despite a long-running lack of good common Finno-Ugric innovations, is because the western branches are built upon several related substrates versus Samoyedic on a presumably unrelated one.
  • Original steppe Uralic, just like any possible local Indo-Iranian straggler varieties remaining, gets later wiped out by the northern re-expansion of Iranic. This thereby also renders most original Proto-Uralic terminology for cattle-keeping, southern flora, etc. generally unrecoverable. Possibly a few things like *luwV ‘horse’ however survive late enough in Ugric (and will no longer need to be assumed to be from a later unified Proto-Ugric node) to go back into major use in Hungarian, once it moves south again.
  • For eastern connections seen in Uralic, the easiest vector is still a superstrate from the Yakutia_LNBA-associated population that enters the northern metal trade network in the Seima-Turbino “phenomenon” in the next few centuries. Another is however to assume that something like para-Yukaghir or para-Mongolo–Tungusic etc. was among the pre-Uralic substrate languages around the Urals; and even a third could be that IIr. / Uralic bilingualism continued into the eastern expansion of the Andronovo culture, transmitting some lost branch of Uralic (one that also may have never picked up a southern Urals substrate) eventually into eastern Siberia.

I do not mean to suggest that this would be a particularly good overall theory about the origins of Uralic, as things stand (though some of the “pieces” I suggest could probably be more generally useful too). But neither am I trying to suggest that this is a reductio ad absurdum in favor of instead locking onto genetic evidence “alone”. The main point is that if we moved away from the primacy of linguistic evidence, it becomes easy under known constraints to spin all sorts of stories on the origins of language families! E.g. linguistic archeology loses much of its evidential value, if the original homeland of a language family is lost entirely, instead of being within some branch or the other’s remaining territory. And thus, if we actually wanted to “prove” e.g. Uralic-from-East-Siberia (not merely Uralic-speakers’-ancestors-from-East-Siberia), this would actually require at least some specific linguistic relationship like Uralo-Eskimo or Uralo-Mongolic developed to a detailed level. Pointing to a couple parallels does not establish if they’re cognates from a recent ancestor, deep archaisms, arealisms, or just simply accidents entirely, not even when there’s some possibility to supplement this narrative with genetics or archeology or for that matter, say, comparative mythology. There continues to be no royal road to etymology.

Yet there is a mirror image of this point as well. Just as other lines of evidence cannot prove a direction of linguistic relationship, neither can they disprove one! That is, one also does not need any “external permission” to pursue an idea otherwise within universal boundary conditions such as any form of Uralo-Siberian, or for that matter really anything else at less than a continent’s remove, say Uralo-Dravidian or Uralo-Sumerian. Distant language relationship aren’t easy to work with, but neither is the general concept outlandish. This only takes a usual standard of evidence: understanding the languages / families one is comparing and the principles of comparative phonology, morphology, semantics, etc. Some options for a historical narrative could be worked out afterwards, once a solid linguistic signal has been actually found, since this has in fact many degrees of freedom for it.

Even the universally accepted relationship of the Uralic languages has indeed yet to lead to a consensus on who, precisely, originally spoke Proto-Uralic and where. The last word in this discussion too is surely still to be said. This seems to have proven to be a hard task, but it is also not clear to me if this is something specific about Uralic. It might be also that this is simply hard for any language families as old as this, and that in some compareable cases agreement may have been only reached by a large volume of work (Indo-European) or, perhaps, by lack of interest in complicating an initial guess that’s at least roughly in the right direction (e.g. Austronesian: did it originally extend also to the mainland, instead of splitting apart entirely within Taiwan?). But questions like the homelands of Dravidian, Sino-Tibetan or Austroasiatic seem to remain often open as well. Eventually, perhaps, many enough case studies could provide lessons on what are typical pitfalls in trying to locate old protolanguages in space and time. For now the field remains open for debate though and very few hard rules can be claimed.

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Posted in Methodology

Etymology squib: *tewə ‘work’

In this post title I refer to a well-known western Uralic isogloss: Finnic *töö, Mordvinic ⁽*⁾ťev, both ‘work’, whose standard reconstruction has been *tewə (or *tewe or *tewi) for long now.

Further origin of this noun has remained unclear, but suspicions have existed for long about some sort of a relationship with the verb *tekə- ‘to do’, reflected likewise in Finnic *teke-, Mordvinic *tej- (per Erzya ťejems; in Moksha unclear vowel raising to give ťijəms), and now also slightly wider in Uralic: Samic *təkə-,[1] Hungarian tesz (te-). But ways to equate *-k- and *-w- have really not been forthcoming, even if there might be some wiggle room in shifting reflexes back and forth. For instance, if we reconstructed a stem *texə(-), this could perhaps yield both the Hungarian and Mordvinic verbs and the Finnic noun. Already the fact that F. and Mo. have two separate words should of course speak against assuming only a single protoform. Over the last few years I have been thinking a fair bit about derivational morphology in Uralic though, already since I am currently working in a project on providing a new general description of this (our thanks to the Kone Foundation); and one thing that has clicked in place for me is what is going on with this doublet.

First of all, if we supposed *tewə was a deverbal derivative related to *tekə-, what kind is it, semantically? “Work” would be here simply “the doing”; the name of the action — a type of derivatives that I am not aware of a standard English name for, but for which I’ve coined “actionym”. [2] And if we look at Finnic, there is a large set of these formed by suffixes *-o, *-U. Finnish examples include cases like aja- ‘to drive’ → aj-o ‘driving’, huuta- ‘to shout’ → huut-o ‘shout(ing)’, lentä- ‘to fly’ → lent-o ‘flight’, kylvä- ‘to sow’ → kylv-ö ‘sowing’; itke- ‘to cry’ → itk-u ‘crying’, pese- ‘to wash’ → pes-u ‘washing’, pure- ‘to bite’ → pur-u ‘biting’, kylpe- ‘to bathe’ → kylp-y ‘bath’. As in my examples, what seems to be the most common pattern is *-o affixed to *-A-stem verbs, *-U affixed to *E-stem verbs. The source of these is usually reconstructed as a Uralic nominalizing suffix *-w, attested also in Mordvinic, if less common there. This suggests thus primary soundlaws *-Aw > *-o, *-əw > *-U being active here. Many exceptions are found though, and perhaps there have been also some further details to explain cases like apparently regular -o on primary verb roots in *-lə-: again with Finnish examples, e.g. ole- ‘to be’ → ol-o ‘being, mood’, tule- ‘to come’ → tul-o ‘coming, income, etc.’, kuule- ‘to hear’ → kuul-o ‘hearing, sense of hearing’ (these also show abundant semantic specialization, which already suggests the formations are old). And weirdly enough, derived *-ElE-frequentatives however again take instead -u; huut-ele- ‘be shouting about’ → huutel-u ‘shouting about’, etc.

At any rate it seems close to obvious to me now that we have the same proto-suffix also in *tewə ‘work’: that it should be segmented as *te-wə. The final vowel must be there simply to fill in the general Proto-Uralic bisyllabic minimum content word constraint. Even on longer stems we’d probably expect a similar allomorph for *-w in some inflected forms, such as *aja-w ‘driving’ having probably had a nominative plural *aja-wə-t or an accusative singular *aja-wə-m (and not consonant-cluster-final **aja-w-t, **aja-w-m). Even a proto-form *te-w could be probably considered, actually: in this specific position, following a semivowel, there is remarkably little evidence across Uralic for an original word-final *-ə, since in these stems we find monosyllabic nominative singulars regularly in Finnic (e.g. *täi < *täj(ə?) ‘louse’), and have some evidence for former consonant-stem alternants even in Sami (e.g. *vōj-tə- < *waj-tə- ‘to grease’ ← *waj(ə?) ‘butter’), where the bisyllabic constraint seems to have been once at its strongest.

Where has *-k- gone then? In Finnic we can in fact even reconstruct a new actionym *tek-o ‘deed, doing’ as well (perhaps still old enough to be < *tekə-w), reflected as expected in e.g. Finnish teko, Estonian tegu, Veps tego etc.; though the more transparent meaning probably indicates it is indeed innovative. It looks unlikely that any earlier combinatory rule could alternately delete *k in Finnic entirely and without traces. In Mordvinic more wiggle space about this might exist, but I have a different idea instead.

My suggestion is that we are dealing here with a rare original monosyllabic verb root, *te-. Nothing has been lost from *te-wə; rather, the primarily reconstructed verb shape is also itself a derivative, *te-kə-. We already know that the Proto-Uralic negative verb had a similar short shape *e-, and likewise the two copula options, *wo- or *wa- (though in most reflexes extended to *wA-lə-) and *le-. There is thus nothing impossible in terms of basic phonology or morphology about a monosyllabic verb in Proto-Uralic, even if this is not a statistically typical root shape. It may well be that the “bisyllabic constraint” has been originally laxer still and has been, in some daughter groups, fortified by the accretion of derivative suffixes on the shortest few roots. One good example of this trend are the nominatives of several Finnish pronouns such as tä-mä ‘this’, jo-ka ‘which (relative)’, ke-n ‘who (interrogative)’ (besides e.g. partitives such as tä-tä, jo-ta, ke-tä), where the Proto-Uralic forms were likely simply plain CV *tä, *jo, *ke; as they still are in reflexes such as Mordvinic *ťä, *ju, *ki (and where, unlike some other branches, none of the “extensions” *-mA, *-kA, *-n would be expected to have been lost entirely).

The verb suffix *-kə- appearing here might rouse more suspicion. No such element is known in any recent handbook breakdowns of either Finnic or Proto-Uralic morphology. However, interestingly enough, this still turns up in older treatises yet! As our first stop, Toivo Lehtisalo’s Über die primären ururalischen Ableitungssuffixe (1936) indeed identifies (pp. 355–359) both a “Ugric-Samoyedic” (actually, just Khanty among Ugric in his data) momentane and inchoative *-k-, and a slightly more widespread frequentative *-k- (also in Mansi, Hungarian, perhaps Permic). [3] An inchoative-momentane *-kk- and frequentative *-k- are also posited by J. Györke (1934), Die Wortbildungslehre des Uralischen. József Szinnyei’s multi-issue handbook Magyar nyelvhasonlítas contains the same suffix at least onwards from its 3rd edition (1905) (I’ve not checked the first two), and the first serious overview of derivation in Uralic, József Budenz’ Ugor alaktan (1883–1887, the section relevant to us in NyK 18) finds essentially this, again, as a momentane suffix (13 §) and also some traces of what he reconstructs as a frequentative in *-g- (7 §). The suffix first seems to become “lost” from overviews in Björn Collinder’s Comparative Grammar of the Uralic Languages (1960), and has been missing-in-action since then. One fact that has surely contributed for this is that the suffix does not seem to have survived as productive by itself anywhere. A full reanalysis of its traces across Uralic would be a whole paper in itself (work already in preparation).

It is regardless not too hard to show some examples of the suffix, e.g. by means of also other Proto-Uralic-ish doublets than *te-kə- ~ *te-wə. One that I’ve already seen commented on in publications (by e.g. Abondolo, Janhunen) is *kul-kə- ‘to go, flow’ ~ *kulə- ‘to go out, be worn, flow out’. Some other evidence I think appears as “velar extensions” in known Uralic etymologies, e.g. Komi puš-ky- ‘to blow’ < *pušə-, šyl-gy- ‘to fly’ < *šilkə- (bear in mind that regularly *lk > l). [4] There is overall also quite a large stock of reconstructed verbs in Proto-Uralic of the shape *CVCkə-, e.g. *ćülkə- ‘to spit’, *kütkə- ‘to tie’, *laćkə- ‘to let go’, *moćkə- ‘to wash’, *puskə- ‘to push, shove’, *soskə- ‘to chew’…; and my working hypothesis is that with further attention, some of these could turn out to be old *-kə-derivatives, perhaps with the base root surviving only marginally and/or indirectly. Eastern Khanty, for instance, has also sö̆jəm- ‘to spit’, suggestive of a parallel derivative *ćül-mə-; and even its normal reflex sö̆jəɣ- looks like it might have been suffixed late, to avoid the expected metathesis to Proto-Khanty **sü̆ɣəl-.

A widespread trace of *-kə- probably appears in the “long” causative suffix variant *-kta-, i.e. = *-k-ta-. The similar variant *-pta- was recently analyzed by Kuokkala to contain the usual “short” causative *-ta- + a reflexive suffix *-pə- of his own proposal (actually a phonological reanalysis / extension of the well known reflexive-passive *-wə-). Both of these analyses are actually already explicitly suggested also by Budenz and Györke!


Reconstructing monosyllabic *te- for ‘to do’ seems like it would further help with a few other issues. Firstly let us consider its Indo-European parallels. It’s again been known for long that Uralic *tekə- rather resembles also PIE *dʰeh₁- ‘to do’; but the apparent correspondence *k ~ *h₁ is troublesome phonologically, both for loanword or cognate approaches. A *k-extension actually turns up in Latin faciō (and also other Italic languages), but a borrowing from specifically here into Uralic has never been on anyone’s radar. Projecting this into PIE only to help with the Uralic comparison is not enticing either. But if *-kə- is itself a native Uralic extension, we could then more cleanly equate only *te- with *dʰeh₁-, or also with *dʰē-, its likely immediate post-PIE development in most branches. [5]

There may be help here also for dealing with the Ugric semi-irregular / closed verb inflection class containing tesz, that actually show in Hungarian just a simple CV stem before some TAM suffixes, e.g. simple past te-tt-. We can also surely segment the present indicative stem as being etymologically te-sz- (though I find it less obvious what exactly this seemingly “present tense” suffix comes from). No original root-final segment is necessarily preserved in the paradigm, I think; -v- in the present participle tevő ‘(one who is) doing’ might simply be a hiatus-filler from earlier *te.öv, and the same in the actionym tevés ‘(the) doing’ could be then analogical, either from the former, or also from actual v-stem verbs like ‘to shoot’ : löv-ő ‘(one) shooting’ : löv-és ‘(the) ‘shooting’. Something has surely been assimilated to give forms like the conditional stem tenn- < *te-C-n-, but an old *-ɣ- < *-k- is not the only option.

There are six more verbs of the same type in Hungarian: eszik ‘to eat’, iszik ‘to drink’, lesz ‘to be, become’, vesz ‘to take, buy’ (‘nehmen’), visz ‘to take, carry’ (‘tragen’), and hisz ‘to believe’. The first five have good Uralic etymologies, mostly reconstructed as *CVxə- or *CVwə-. I will not go here into enumerating all the Ob-Ugric equivalents (which do not exactly coincide with Hungarian), but for the sake of example, for ‘to eat’ Mansi shows three stem variants: *tee-, *täj-, *tääj-, Khanty two: *ɬee-, *ɬeeɣ-. While given just Hungarian we might believe that *-x-, *-w- have been generally lost in verb stems, the Ob-Ugric evidence instead shows CVC stems besides CV. Rather than conditional loss of a stem consonant, perhaps the basic phenomenon here is the retention of an original CV stem, which then was extended in some positions with extra suffixes like *-kə- (as also in western relatives more generally). Hungarian may have moreover analogically created similar CV variants also from some original *CVCə stems. Besides *te-, the CV stem would be still likely original also in *le- ‘to be’. There still appears to be some phonological shuffling going on too, though: with back vowels and front rounded vowels only //CVv-// verb stems exist, while all the //CV-// stems show front unrounded vowels.

It could be tempting to start sketching CV roots for these sort of verbs also more widely in Uralic (as has been in fact proposed by Helimski), such as in Samoyedic where we seem to have regular *CV < *CVxə, or in Finnic where we find *CVV < *CVxə. This would be partly attractive in providing a new, purely morphological alternative to the phonetic/phonological problems of what was *x actually, and why does it only occur in *ə-stems? Given a *-kə-suffix in Proto-Uralic that may get employed to lengthen CV verb roots, we could in principle hypothetize that current standard comparisons like Samic *tōkə- ~ Finnic *too- ‘to bring’ are actually inexact, and instead the former represents extended *to-kə-, the latter unextended *to-. But alas things are not quite so easy. Two remaining problems would be, firstly, that the current correspondences for *CVxə- seem too phonologically consistent between branches to only represent morphological extensions; secondly, that there are also other reconstructions with *x that this alone would not get rid of, mostly in any longer stems (*ćäxə ‘(single) hair’, *ćixələ ‘hedgehog’, *mälxə ‘bird breast’, ? *joxćə ‘swan’; some single-branch extended reflexes such as Finnic *souta- < *sux-ta ‘to row’). [6] So for now *te-kə- ‘to do’ shall remain the only one of these *CVKə- verb roots I will actually propose to be segmentable this way.

[1] As of a presentation of mine from about a year ago on the Great Sami Vowel Shift, I now prefer the transcription *ə, rather than *ë / Finno-Ugric Transcription *e̮ (which in IPA roughly means [ɤ]), for the Proto-Sami reflex of *i, *ü, *e(-ə) and unstressed *ə. A close reduced *ɪ or *ĭ would be even more accurate to my current thinking, but I’m still not trying to be too gratuitously different about this.
[2] Really a neo-Latinization of Finnish teonnimi. On checking, my coinage has had a single first appearence on this blog in passing already about a decade ago, but nothing else thus far. The currently commonly used term “verbal noun” I find far too vague, being used in linguistic literature also for all sorts of gerunds, infinitives, sometimes even to cover actor nouns.
[3] Lehtisalo covers also denominal verbs in *-k-, but going by the Finnic representatives, e.g. Fi. hätä ‘distress, emergency’ → hätäänty- ‘become distressed’ < *hätä-gä-nt-y-; Votic apoo ‘sour’ → apagoitta– ‘to let go sour’ < *hap̆pan-k-oi-tta- (< pre-Finnic *šappama-ka-j-tta-), these may have involved instead *-kA-, and also might be simply the already known nominal suffix *-kA, stacked with actual verbalizers on top. Many of his less well known derivational suffixes in fact suffer from this kind of a problem, maybe natural when defining “primary” suffixes as = “etymologically minimal”.
[4] For Permic I’ve also already before, in my review of formerly suggested *pk, alluded to PU *-kə- yielding this “verb extension” *-kɨ- ~ *-gɨ-.
[5] I am inclined towards the loan proposal, already due to this being a slightly abstract verb with west-leaning distribution (no reflexes in the Siberian branches), and IE loan origin could perhaps also be used to explain why we have here an exceptional monosyllabic content root. But I would still not entirely rule out an Indo-Uralic cognate either. Any possible other *CV ~ *CVh₁ root correspondences could prove helpful for narrowing down the pick.
[6] A third line of evidence for *-x- has been assumed to be vowel lengthening in Samic, e.g. *suxə- > *sūkə- ‘to row’. But this seems non-probative to me, as it could be in principle a development affecting specifically original *CV roots, as seems to be attested in any case in some pronoun roots, e.g. North Sami mii ‘what’ < PS *mī < PU *mi (still, not all of them, e.g. NS go ‘how’ < PS *kŏ < PU *ku ‘what’). Thus, conceivably, *su- > *sū-, after which by affixation → *sū-kə-. What seems unsatisfying in this is however that, if vowel lengthening would have sufficed in Finnic to add the desired second mora to a content root (the type of *too- ‘to bring’), why not here?
— One simple *CVxə noun also still exists where a monosyllabic analysis would seem to remain workable: *mëxə ‘earth’, whose supposed *-x- is only clearly reflected in vowel length in Finnic *maa and in a stem *mëëɣ- in some inflected Mansi forms, besides plain *mëë. The former we could again refer to monosyllabic lengthening, the former also to a more typical nominal extension *më-ka. (The Khanty words compared here reflect a close front vowel, Proto-Khanty *mĭɣ, and probably are not cognate or at least not direct reflexes.) Unfortunately no inherited Samic reflex occurs, which could in principle help clarify things.

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Posted in Etymology, Reconstruction

A doubly archaic palatal in Jiiddu

Cushitic studies have yet to recover much from the troubles caused by the Somalian civil war, still low-intensity ongoing in the south of the country. This is alas also the more ethnolinguistically diverse part of Somalia (perhaps not only by coincidence), both in terms of the dialect variety within the Somali dialect continuum itself, and the various other related languages known to be spoken there. Some of these were reduced only to the status of specialized languages among lower-class workers even before the war, such as the enigmatic Boon; and it is a risk that some of these may end up going extinct and never documented in much detail (or even found?) before conditions stabilize enough for fieldwork to continue. Possible contributions from comparative Somali / Somaloid work to our understanding of general Cushitic will also have to remain limited, as long as much data from this culturally rich area remains unavailable.

On the other hand, there is still the possibility of documentation with the aid of the Somali diaspora. One interesting little milestone of this sort that I got a hold of a while ago is an English – Jiddu – Somali Mini-Dictionary from 1998 by Salim Ibro, a veterinary researcher now based in Australia and a native speaker of Jiiddu (or also, evidently, Jiddu), another still little known Somaloid language, though perhaps not too highly endangered. Jiiddu maybe has further notoriety for having been proposed to be one of the earliest-diverging Somaloid varieties. Ehret & Ali [1] namely suggested on the grounds of relatively thin evidence that it would be most closely related to Bayso, an apparently Somaloid straggler language found in southern Ethiopia. Jiiddu has participated also in several areal innovations of southern Somalia (such as the common-in-Cushitic pharyngeal > glottal merger: *ħ, *ʕ > h, ʔ) but does seem to be at least not closely related to any known variety from its immediate environment. It could be of further particular interest for comparative research in due time.

Ibro’s dictionary is not, and openly admits not being, assembled by a professional linguist, and among other things is missing much lexicon that would be interesting for us comparativists. E.g. the only numerals recorded seem to be ‘one’, ‘four’, ‘eight’, ‘eleven’, ‘hundred’, ‘thousand’; several interesting body part terms are absent too; fauna and flora have fairly low coverage overall. It regardless allows for many initial observations. I’ve identified so far a bit over 100 terms with native East Cushitic etymologies (vocabulary shared with specifically Somali is much more common) which would allow assembling a rough outline of historical phonology already.

Instead of trying to dump here all possible observations, of which many smaller details could end up being overturned by fuller data anyway, here is what could be my most interesting discovery, concerning a consonant transcribed by Ibro as jh. Following conventions used in the orthography & transcription of Somali dialects, or perhaps also just by analogy with d /d/ : dh /ɖ ~ ɗ/, I would assume this represents the palatal implosive /ʄ/. Standard Somali has no such consonant, but already Maay (maybe the best-known Southern Somali dialect group) does, where it arises as a reflex of Proto-East Cushitic *kʼ before front vowels. In northern / standard Somali, this combination has instead merged, together with palatalized *g, as j /dʒ/. We can confirm this development in Jiiddu as well in a small set of examples:

  • jhar- ‘to hew’ ~ Somali jar- presumably reflects PEC *kʼer-, a front-vocalic “ablaut” pair to *kʼor- ‘to hew’ as seen in Somali qor-, Rendille xor-, Arbore kʼor- etc. (and further surely the same root as *kʼor ‘tree’, even if I cannot guess if the verb or noun sense is more original).
  • jhow ‘part, piece’, jhowsh- ‘to shatter’ seem to be < *ʄaw(-is-) < *ʄab(-is-), thus akin to Somali jab- ‘to break’ < PEC *kʼeb-. The vowel development is confirmed by Jiiddu qow- ~ Somali qab- < PEC *kʼab- ‘to catch, hold, seize, etc.’, and perhaps dhow(-) ‘damage, harm; to trouble, molest’ < PEC *ɗaw- ‘to hit, strike’ (not known to be reflected, it seems, in Somali).
  • jhan- ‘to bite’ ~ Somali qaniin- < PEC *kʼan-. A clear root etymology, though the trigger for palatalization in Jiiddu is unclear. Should we presume an early ablaut variant *kʼen- (+ the usual Somaloid lowering *Ke- > *Kʲe- > *Kʲa-), or an i-umlaut from the extended form *kʼan-iin- (seemingly in all other Lowland East Cushitic lgs. and often triggering such vowel development, e.g. Oromo čʼiniin- or Daasanach ɠinin-), with the vowel then for some reason lowered again and the suffix itself lost?

However, besides these we find also a few cases with a correspondence Jiiddu jh ~ Somali dh. Also, comparison with wider East Cushitic shows that these do not seem to be due to any kind of a coronal palatalization rule in Jiiddu. Instead they match with a segment that Sasse’s PEC reconstruction notated *ɗ₁ and which probably was a palatal ejective *čʼ, perhaps more specifically phonetically a postalveolar affricate *[tʃʼ] as is its reflex in Oromo and, partly, the Dullay dialect cluster.

  • hajhefi ‘spit’ ~ Somali candhuuf, Oromo hančʼufa, Konso hanʄufaa etc. < PEC *Hančʼuuf-. Sasse reconstructs initial *ʕ- by the evidence of e.g. Somali, but this etymon shows quite a lot of h-initial reflexes, and I would not count all of them as being due to an irregular innovation in only e.g. Oromo followed by borrowing. Jiiddu in particular is not anywhere near Oromo, and might never have been. Maybe Somali-like forms have been instead influenced by carrab < *ʕanrab ‘tongue’? [2]
  • fuujhis- ‘to whistle’ ~ Somali foodh-, Konso fuuʄ- etc. < PEC *foo/uučʼ-. Sasse reconstructs *fuuɗ₁-, but at least the Somaloid reflexes clearly point rather to *oo (including Jiiddu; Ibro’s dictionary shows a fairly consistent “Persian-like” vowel chainshift of *oo *uu *u > uu u o and likewise *ee *ii *i > ii i e [3]). Wallagga Oromo also has a longer but probably related fooričʼ- for ‘to whistle’. Perhaps by metathesis-then-epenthesis from something like *foočʼ-r-, stop + liquid metathesis is common in northern Oromo dialects.
  • jhiir ‘shame’ ~ Oromo čʼeer-, Konso ʄeer- ‘to be ashamed’ < PEC *čʼeer-, it seems not attested in Somali.

The ‘spit’ case seems to have been noted already in earlier literature, e.g. in Linda Arvanites’ 1991 PhD thesis on glottalics in East Cushitic; and seems to have /ʄ/ also in some of Southern Somali. The other two comparisons I think might be new, and establish this as a consistent pattern, not just a one-off accident or some sort of a conditional retention of only the cluster *nčʼ. But also, I admit I have not finely combed over research on Somali dialectology; e.g. Mohamed Ali’s 1985 PhD thesis on the overarching history of the Horn of Africa (tagged on Glottolog as treating also Jiiddu in some capacity) might have something to say on the topic too.

One case also turns up where Jiiddu would appear to share the general Somali merger *čʼ > *ɗ: dhaq- ‘to wash’ < PEC ? *čʼakʼ- (> Konso ʄaʛ-). But here we could, firstly, propose borrowing from Somali dhaq-; and secondly, point out (as already discussed by Sasse) Oromo ɗikʼ-, Gidole ɗikʼ- ~ čʼikʼ-, which consistently or partly fail to point to *čʼ either. My preferred suggestion would be that plain *ɗ is original in this word and was irregularly palatalized to ʄ just in Konso, with some dialect borrowing then introducing this variant also in Gidole. Another angle that looks workable could be “partial depalatalization”: the three cases of *čʼ > jh all occur before a following front vowel, while here we have a following back vowel. [4]

I can note one interesting loanword appearence as well: Jhemedhi ‘Friday’. This must be surely derived ultimately from Arabic al-jumʕa, just as Somali jimca; and seems to be appended with a -dhi, as also Arbadhi ‘Wednesday’ from Arabic al-ʔarbiʕāʔ. [5] But why jh and not a plain j (as we do have in other Arabic loans like jaajuus ‘spy’, jeni ‘paradise’)? I suppose this might be a side effect of the loss of *ʔ from a consonant cluster: earlier *ɟimʔe- > *ʄime- > jheme-, allowing also dating the loan as relatively early.


Finally, an interesting side effect from this development in Jiiddu might be that it gives us reasons to think the alveolar emphatic in Proto-East Cushitic should be reconstructed as an ejective *tʼ, not an implosive *ɗ. The development *čʼ > *ɗ seen or required in various languages does not by itself demand routing thru an ejective *tʼ; it could be in principle also routed thru the palatal implosive *ʄ, which, as seen above, is already its reflex besides Jiiddu also in Konso. But the existence of two layers of /ʄ/ in Jiiddu is hard to fit together with this approach. If we suppose Proto-Somaloid had around an old (*čʼ >) *ʄ that in most varieties later merged into *ɗ, where will the palatalized reflex of *kʼ fit here? At minimum I do not think there is any reasonable way to fit in both a “*ʄ₁” > NSom. dh and a “*ʄ₂” > NSom. j. Place of articulation contrasts like postalveolar : alveolo-palatal are well attested in sibilant affricates (Slavic, Uralic, Caucasus, Iranic, Sinitic…), but any analogue of this seems to be completely unattested in implosives. Indeed I have never seen “implosive affricates” (“infricates”?) reported at all. [6] Would we be expected to think that a palatalized velar ejective like *kʼʲ remained until late? And if so, why are all of its reflexes voiced then?

I think a better approach will be to assume only one wave of unconditional conversion ejective > implosive, which is surely the most distinctive sort of sound change appearing in the general phonological evolution of East Cushitic. Thus, in Proto-Somaloid (or maybe Common Somaloid after the split of Bayso, which lacks both palatalization and *Kʲe > *Kʲa) we’d have a system like *tʼ, *čʼ, *kʼʲ, *kʼ. In pre-Jiiddu, *kʼʲ > *čʼ as a simple merger, while (at least) in pre-Northern Somali we’d have instead a chainshift: *čʼ > *tʼ, *kʼʲ > *čʼ. General implosivization would be placed only after this: *tʼ > *ɗ, *čʼ > *ʄ, applying areally. In the Baddey dialect of Boni this is extended even to *kʼ > /ɠ/, which seems like another argument for a late-spread change. The mostly common Somali (and also Jiiddu) shift *kʼ > q could apply around this time too, though allophonic *kʼ > *[qʼ] might have existed already earlier at least as one variant, as it seems likely to me that a uvular stage was also involved on the way to the Rendille reflex x. Lastly Northern Somali then turns implosives into plain voiced stops: *ɗ > [ɖ] = dh, *ʄ > *ɟ > [dʒ] = j.

Insofar as the northern Somali reflex *kʼʲ >> j is a merger however, it would be still conceivable to route this somewhat independently of Jiiddu and Southern Somali jh. The other option might be something like a palatal stop *[cʼ] > *[c] that initially remains only plain, unaspirated voiceless (parallel to *qʼ > q), and then develops voicing to settle into the dichotomy between [tʰ kʰ] versus [b d g] (as also parallel to standard Somali /q/, too, having even voiced [ɢ] as a known free-variant allophone). But in this kind of a scenario I think I’d expect the voiceless value to have been preserved somewhere, distinct from original voiced *gʲ > *ɟ. (Several Northern Somali dialects do have general devoicing of both, giving [tʃ], but this clearly must be in fact devoicing and not a retention.)

I would have a handful of other arguments, too, to defend reconstructing PEC *tʼ and a late but widespread areal shift to /ɗ/. One obvious points might be that Highland East Cushitic and Yaaku often retain /tʼ/, and it’s already been suggested *tʼ > *ɗ could be only a Lowland East Cushitic innovation. But in cases like Jiiddu we seem to find reasons to think even this “Lowland” development being really fairly late in chronology, once we consider interaction with the rest of the consonant system.

[1] Christopher Ehret & Mohamed Nuuh Ali 1984: Soomaali Classification. Proceedings of the Second International Congress of Somali Studies, 201–269. — This remains, I believe, also the most thorough dialectological data on southern Somali, despite covering no more than a Swadesh-100 list of 35 Somali dialects + 5 other Somaloid languages (besides Jiiddu and Bayso: Rendille, Garre and Tunni). For that matter, see also Lamberti’s paper “The Linguistic Situation in the Somali Democratic Republic” in the same volume for what I believe is the latest known data on Boon.
[2] There’s also a proposal appearing at least in Haberland & Lamberti (1988), Ibaaddo ka-Ba’iso. Culture and Language of the Ba’iso, that this word would be an compound having the same root as Dullay ⁽*⁾ʕanɗe, Yaaku anto- ‘water’ as its first part and *ʔaf ‘mouth’ as its 2nd, which would also require original *ʕ-. Given the vocalism I might also suspect *tuf- ‘to spit’, thus not ‘mouth water, saliva in mouth’ but rather ‘water spit out, spittle’? But I am also not convinced this isolated word for ‘water’ is itself archaic: it might be deverbal from an *ʕan- ‘to drink, eat’ or similar, as an ablaut variant of PEC *ʕun- ‘to eat’ (and also ‘tongue’ could then prove to derive from this). — It seems we do still have to propose borrowing from Oromo for some reflexes, e.g. Bayso hančʼuufe, Arbore henčʼufo; there are basically no other candidates for native čʼ otherwise in these languages. The second actually might be an only partial loanword, since -e- is not expected for Oromo -a-; but is expected as the native reflex of *ʕa- (as seen in this case even in Arbore’s sister language: El Molo eñufa).
[3] “Jiddu” thus being evidently the native form of “Jiiddu”. Vocalism in particular seems very innovative in Jiiddu, and much more could be said. Some exceptions can be readily suspected to be loans from Somali, e.g. kun ‘thousand’ has the same shape in both, and as a high numeral would be a natural loanword. This status is obvious at least for duux ‘marrow’, where the pharyngeal (x = /ħ/) also points to a loan. Short i might be also preserved or re-raised from e in the vicinity of regularly expected close vowels: isi ‘she’ << PEC *ʔišii, siyiid < PSom. *sizzeet < PEC *šizħeet ‘eight’? But we’d like to have more detailed data before making any highly specific claims.
[4] Even a fourth option would be to follow the more hesitant proposal by Sasse to split off even a *ɗ₂ (later suggested by Arvanites to be *[tʼ]; I’d side with Sasse in preferring *[tsʼ]) that is further distinct from *čʼ in Dullay, and to claim that Jiiddu actually shows only *čʼ > jh but still *ɗ₂ > dh. But for this the evidence starts getting extremely thin, and requiring awfully late *ɗ₁/*ɗ₂ mergers in everything other than Jiiddu; this is thus probably the worst idea of the bunch for now.
[5] All other names of the days of the week clearly derive from Arabic as well: Elesmi ‘Monday’, Talaasi ‘Tuesday’, Hamis ‘Thursday’, Sawti ‘Saturday’, Ahad ‘Sunday’. At least the first, apparently with the Arabic definite article in tow and with a mysterious *n > m change, has probably been borrowed independently of standard Somali isniin (but I have no idea if different variants might exist in the southern varieties).
[6] These appear to be possible to articulate (cf. how ingressive clicks are already often affricated), but this takes quite a bit more effort than pulmonic or ejective affricates and probably these are simply too unstable to make reasonable phonemes.

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Posted in Reconstruction

Khoe–Rift Isoglosses Seem Easy to Find

The newest Journal of Language Relationship is recently out: a volume with notably much work on Uralic actually, with Belykh and Savelyev dealing with loanword layers in Permic, and an article from Zaitsev on Proto-Samoyedic vowel sequences, hot on the heels of and it seems in partial collaboration with the recent one from Janhunen on the same topic in Linguistica Uralica. I will also note interesting work from the well known Uralicist & blog commentator Zhivlov on the Hokan hypothesis, that I am happy to have contributed a few methodological comments on already earlier. These are languages I know almost nothing about, but it is always good to see something more might be still done in American comparative linguistics (where I get the sense that the “official approach” during the last several decades has been leaning towards splitting harder than necessary: poor proposals can be often also redone better, not only discarded).

Rather than comment further on any of this, I will however jump to the topic of Khoisan, on which we have in this JoLR issue Starostin the younger continuing on a quest to build rigorous Swadesh-50 lists for the three well-established Khoisan families, with suggestions on the horizon to eventually apply this to probing the proposed further relationships. If this is the best line of attack to relationship-hunting seems debatable; we know from all well-known older language families like Indo-European, Uralic, Austronesian, Semitic, Kartvelian that much of their core lexical evidence exists outside of even the longest Swadesh lists. But clearly it is at least progress on this front, helping to steer clear of some risks of etymological nativism. And perhaps the meta-premise to this work is instead in benefits to lexical-etymological typology from focusing on a standard list across language families?

The Khoe(–Kwadi) family is, at any rate, probably the most interesting of the three major Khoisan blocks for general African linguistics. Being spoken in part by cattle pastoralists, it has “always” been an anthropological boundary-condition assumption that they would have deep connections also to the old pastoralist groups of East Africa, severed later by the Bantu expansion. Human and livestock genetics alike are known to support this, archeology has similar hints; and in linguistics we have firstly the proposal that, of the two proposed “Khoisan straggler” click language isolates in Tanzania, they might be specifically related to Sandawe. (From very casual looking–around, to me this looks at least better supported than any relationship to either of the pure San lineages or to Hadza.) Secondly, pastoralism was almost surely introduced to sub-equatorial Africa in the first place by the Rift branch of South Cushitic,[1] and loanword connections of Khoe in this direction are also already known.

Looking from the direction of the Rift languages, they too are already known to have loanwords not just from their Tanzanian click-language neighbors Hadza and Sandawe, but also a few where the closest parallels seem to be indeed only in Khoe. Ehret’s 1980 book suggests *dabi ‘salt’ as one of these, reconstructible it seems in exactly this form for both Rift and Khoekhoe. [2] Another suggestion of his is Rift *tanaʕ- ‘brain’ (> e.g. Burunge tanaʕiya sg., tanaʕoo pl.) ~ Khoekhoe *tana ‘head’, but this could be instead a case in the inverse direction: Starostin’s work by now proposes that this is probably a secondary term compared to Proto-Khoe *ǂu, and also the pharyngeal in the Rift root does not seem like it can be nicely derived either from Khoe or as suffixal. He also has instead *dana with a voiced stop, but it is not clear to me if this is a problem or if this could be a reflex of an earlier pre-Proto-Khoe *t.

More could be likely still done on the topic. For instance, a Twitter discussion recently drew my attention to aro being the Khoekhoe word for ‘ram’, which (as cited at Wiktionary as linked there) Ehret seems to have in one of his East African language contact works proposed to be connected to *ar- ‘bull’ in SW Surmic. However we have a very good loan source candidate for this closer by in Rift as well: *ʔaar- ‘goat’, yielding a suppletive plural aaraa in all four West Rift languages (vs. singular *gʷereta ‘he-goat’, *legaʔa ‘she-goat’) and also singular ʔaliko in Kʼwadza.

A further argument contra Ehret’s suggestion is that I also think the Surmic words would probably not be anything like native “Eastern Sudanic”, but themselves loans from East Cushitic, where we have *ʔawr- ‘large male animal’ > e.g. Somali awr ‘bull camel’, Dhaasanach ʔawrič ‘non-castrated camel’; and, maybe importantly, El Molo aar ‘bull, ox; male crocodile’, showing the required monophthongization *aw > *aa in one of the ECush. languages closest by to Surmic. Potentially this etymon could be also in fact cognate with Rift *ʔaar-, especially if a gendered meaning, as reflected in Khoekhoe ‘ram’, is an older sense than generic ‘goat’. [3]


These precepts in mind, but disclaimer! without me having gone into earlier Khoe–Cushitic contact literature at all, I’ve taken a casual look at Starostin’s Swadesh-50 vocabulary of Khoe in comparison with Rift (already collected in Ehret 1980: 385–388). And the initial turnover is that we can indeed find even in this level of basic lexicon some more good matches, akin to Ehret’s ‘brain’ ~ ‘head’ comparison but in fact even more exact. Conveniently they are all even cases where Starostin finds two or more competing Khoe terms, usually one in Khoekhoe versus another in Kalahari Khoe. Though I do not mean to suggest that the main branches of Khoe would have been already independently in contact with Rift — rather, there may be cases here where competition between an old native term and a Rift loan was eventually resolved in the two main branches of Khoe one way or the other, by loss or semantic shift.

1. ‘Bird’: West Rift *tsʼiraʕa, Asa širaʔa ~ Kalahari Khoe *dzera ~ *dzeˤra (≠ Khoekhoe *kxani, which corresponds to Kalahari Khoe ‘vulture’). Perhaps the irregular vowel pharyngealization points to two different loan variants; and Starostin also notes long-vocalic ǰāárá in ǁXom, which would also not seem like a normal underived root. But might it be compensatory lengthening from something like *dzera.a?

Ultimate origin on the Cushitic side seems clear in light of Highland East *čʼiiɗa ‘bird’, which can be < *čʼidʔa < *čʼidaʕa (the rest of East Cushitic shows instead a different root *kimbir-). An original ejective is however inconvenient for explaining voiced *dz in Khoe, we’d surely expect maintained *tsʼ. And how well could we assume anything like *i-a > *e-a or *ir > *er in pre-Khoe?

2. ‘Moon’: West Rift *ɬaħaaŋʷ, Kʼwadza ɬahayiko, Asa lehek, Ma’a mɬihe ~ Khoekhoe *ǁχã (≠ Kalahari Khoe *nǁˤoɛ, which Starostin notes is perhaps borrowed from Ju). All phonetic features of the West Rift form in particular could be in fact unpacked from a single syllable in Khoe: the lateral but non-glottalized click influx would correspond to *ɬ, the uvular fricative release to *ħ, and even the vowel nasalization to final *-ŋʷ (though this is also a perfectly normal singulative suffix). Lastly add short *a as a basic echo / epenthetic vowel to avoid a word-initial consonant cluster; or we could hypothesize on some sort of a pre-Khoe contraction from *ǁaχaŋ as well. Kʼwadza ɬaha- is also about as nicely derivable this way, with a couple of common suffixes then piled on (-(a)y- actor noun, -(i)ko masculine nominative singular). The front vocalism in Asa and Ma’a is less clear to me (“pharyngeal” i.e. rather, epiglottal coloring *aħ > *eħ is one option though), but they are not languages that could be highly relied on for Proto-Rift reconstruction anyway.

A quite nice find also since I just got done noting in passing two blog posts ago that I find the usually assumed correspondence of Rift *ɬ with East Cushitic *l dubious, and that this item, Ehret’s PSC *ɬeeħe- vs. PEC *leʕ- for ‘moon’, would be the only really nice-looking example.

3. ‘New’: West Rift *ʕab, Asa ʔamba (probably from the plural *ʔab-an) ~ Kalahari Khoe *qaba (≠ Khoekhoe and some Kalahari Khoe *kxoa). A good rhyme match, but it’s less clear how to explain the correspondence *ʕ ~ *q. Going by the example of *ħ ~ *χ in the previous case though, maybe a pre-Khoe *ʁaba or *ɢaba could have been substituted with a pharyngeal in Rift, and would have later devoiced to *q by Proto-Khoe??

4. ‘Stone’ (1): West Rift *tɬʼaaʕa, Asa deʔok ~ Kalahari Khoe *nǁˤoa (≠ Khoekhoe *ǀʼui-). Pharyngealization / harsh voice in the click may have sufficed to motivate a substitution as ejective *tɬʼ in Rift, besides a pharyngeal also seemingly inserted in C2 position. A diphthong *oa, if it was there at the time of contact, would surely have to have been smoothed into a long vowel like *aa. A comparison of the Rift root with a supposed Somali ideophone dhaca ‘sound of a falling rock’ was also proposed by Ehret, but this seems to be an error: as a verb root, Somali dhac- (/ɖaʕ-/) just means ‘to fall’, nothing to do with rocks specifically.

5.? ‘Stone’ (2): Starostin mentions also a third minor root *qaro in the Tsua group of Kalahari Khoe, and in ǀXaise in the Shua group. Possibly worth noting that this brings to mind the well attested Cushitic and probably already Proto-Afrasian root *kʼar- ‘sharp’, which in Rift leaves reflexes such as WR *qaraqaantɬʼay ‘barbed arrow’, *qarqaar- ‘bitter’; Kʼwadza kʼalam- ‘to bite’, kʼalitiko ‘natron’. — Nothing however, it seems, meaning exactly ‘sharp stone’ or similar (or even general ‘sharp’, ‘edge’), so this could still well be a wrong hunch.

6. ‘Tree’: West Rift *xaʔi pl. ‘trees’ ~ Khoekhoe *hai- (~ ? Kalahari Khoe *yi)
Starostin notes that irregular vowel breaking and *y- > *h- would be needed to connect the two Khoe forms, but perhaps this is unnecessary if we have here a competing loan from Rift. The option of opposite direction seems unlikely, as neither *x- nor *-ʔ could be nicely derived from Khoe. It seems suspicious that Khoe would substitute Rift *x as *h and not as its own *x, but maybe that wasn’t there yet at the time of contact (tho I do not dare pitch a specific scenario).

Proposed cognates outside of West Rift do not seem very good to me; Ehret compares here also Kʼwadza haʔiko ‘stool’ (with irregular h- also), Ma’a mxátu ~ mhátu ‘tree’, Agaw *kan- ‘tree, wood’, of which Ma’a seems to show the least bad problems. The example of Rift *xab- ~ East Cushitic *kʼab- ‘to take, grasp, have’ could also in principle point towards comparing here PEC *kʼor- ‘tree, wood’ (and perhaps not as native, but as a loan from some EC source similar to Rendille where *kʼ > x), but *a ~ *o and *ʔ ~ *r would still need clarification.


All of my finds here seem from slightly to very debatable, but still a surprizingly strong signal just within a 50-word list of some of the least likely borrowing targets. As expected, they’re also still among the concepts more likely to be borrowed among the bunch: no similar matches in e.g. pronouns, verbs, body parts. I’d definitely expect more to keep turning up from closer checkup of Proto-Khoe reconstruction work with an eye for Rift paralles.

Lastly worth noting that also none of these comparisons has anything similar to them in Sandawe, going by the brief Swadesh list at Wiktionary plus a little browsing of the 2012 Ehret & Ehret dictionary. If Sandawe is related to Khoe, their split would probably have been earlier than contact with Rift. And in fact it seems that placing pre-Proto-Khoe into Tanzania would provide room also for a contact explanation for Khoe–Sandawe similarities, something not to be written off a priori either (not even in a case where we would think they’re still related at a deeper level).

[1] Including, besides cattle, also the goat, sheep and donkey, of which the first two are Eurasian species entirely in their origin. The donkey is at least a native African species, but still first domesticated somewhere further north, it seems currently assumed to be perhaps Nubia. I am also unsure if it is traditionally known among the Khoekhoe, though at least sheep and goats seem to be.
[2] He also proposes including Dahalo dabi ‘animal, meat’, but the semantics to get here (‘salt’ > ‘seasoning’ > ‘relish, nonstaple food’ > …) seem too speculative for me to trust.
[3] In this case a further issue could be if *aw > aa in El Molo in fact indicates a borrowing from pre-Rift? A different development *aw > o seems to appear in *gaws- > ɠos ‘chin’; though in the absense of further examples there is also room to consider conditional developments like *aw > aa / _r. Diphthong reduction within Surmic itself and re-borrowing into El Molo might also not be out of the question.

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Posted in Etymology

Kʼwadza etymology 1. Preambles + some isoglosses with Kuliak

One of the several interesting yet understudied East African languages is Kʼwadza (abbreviated here as Q.), one of the recently extinct South Cushitic ones, the southernmost of the bunch. Unlike a few of its congeners, it seems to have been tolerably documented, at least in its lexicon. In particular, a correspondent shared with me earlier this year an unpublished collated wordlist by the late Christopher Ehret, dated as last edited in 2022 (mainly from his own fieldwork in the 70s, but including earlier sources where they add something different) that comes out 981 lemmas long (including 60 nouns with plurals noted), enough to allow all sorts of internal reconstruction and other fun besides the usual etymological digging.

Two years back I’ve already complained about how languages like Kʼwadza should not be presumed to be uninvestigable just because they’re extinct.[1] Any vague awareness of the field of philology will demolish this notion in the general case. The more specific case of a language documented not in any fragmented remains of a native writing tradition, but only in pre-scientific or salvage-documentation fieldwork records, is maybe less well known though, but happens to be one I am very familiar with from Uralic studies: we have profitably applied this to language varieties such as Mator or Yurats at the Samoyedic end, or Krevinian Votic, Kraasna Estonian, Salaca Livonian within Finnic (occasional similar studies for other subgroups exist also). What helps immensely in all such cases is the ability to compare the languages with well-known relatives and their perhaps also well-known reconstruction stages. If, say, a mysterious ‹z› is attested in just one or two words in a few sources but not in others, we could still perhaps assign it as an independent phoneme (and maybe it e.g. merged with plain /s/ by the time of later records or in other dialects), if these happened to have etymological correspondences that point to some rare but unique source (e.g. some cluster or combinatory source like *ns or *gi). Or, if we have a word †habablabla and would like to segment it as ? haba-blabla, knowing that a proto-root *haba of a nearby or even the same meaning is already reconstructed will be support for this, even if we were unsure what is -blabla precisely. Or starting from the other end, if we have a word †tsugumutsugumu, then knowing that a process of reduplication and a suffix *-rV with vowel harmony can be reconstructed to its parent or even just for some aunt variety, this would be well suggestive that we have here a tsugu-mu-ʀᴇᴅᴜᴘ, even if the root tsugu were itself left as being of unknown etymology or uncertain base meaning. (Even better, of course, if these patterns could be also otherwise suspected elsewhere in the language, but this does not strike me as hard-required.)

Regardless there are many ways to overdo this. One of the primary flaws that always weakens an etymology, never strengthens it, is nontrivial semantics. Ehret’s reconstruction of South Cushitic had unfortunately numerous proposals rife with these. Given a Kʼwadza noun like mutito ‘stirring spoon’, even if we were pretty sure that -to here is the feminine nominative ending (or arguably perhaps, -t- fem. + -o nom.), this still gives very little extra confidence to his claim that it comes from a South Cushitic root *mut- ‘long, narrow point’ that would be also reflected in Asa mušuk ‘spear’ [2] and Dahalo mùtà ‘termite hill’. The inherent weakness of the proposition can be easily noted by the ability to freestyle innumerable other similar explanations. E.g. if we ignore geography for a moment, the Kʼwadza word would be at least as well comparable also with Romanian muta ‘to move, shift’, or the Asa word with Nahuatl muta ‘to throw’, or the Dahalo word with Finnish muta ‘mud’. And once we look actually close by, I would think the correct etymology is rather Bantu *mʊ̀tɪ́ ‘tree, stick’ (> e.g. Swahili mti). Stirrers do not need to be pointed at all, if anything that might be counterproductive, and also really any old sturdy stick can serve for this purpose.

What should be actually done with the current corpus of Kʼwadza etymologies proposed by Ehret is then first of all to grade them by semantic plausibility. We should surely also redo additional comparison with Kießling & Mous’ more detailed Proto-West-Rift reconstruction that has come out since then. I’ve basically already collected the first (going by what he sees fit to mention in the 2022 wordlist; might have to double-check if the 1980 book reconstruction has additional junk comparisons that would thus seem to have been abandoned even by Ehret) and have gotten a good chunk of the comparison-checking work for the latter done too, including a few finds of comparanda not caught or noted by Ehret. So far the three most obvious are fugayiko ~ *fukay/*fugay ‘fire drill stick’, sengotuko ~ *seenkóó ‘sickle’, and tangaʔayo ~ *taangaa ‘watermelon’ (the latter two ultimately from Bantu; could be parallel loans). Much more work would remain in reviewing the elaborate historical phonology rules posited by Ehret, where it seems at least some simplifications and maybe some new results would be available by rejecting poor etymologies and treating the development of Kʼwadza independently, not tied down to Asa. At this point worth noting is also that some initial preambles of this work have come out just last year already in a paper “The position of Asá and Qwadza within Cushitic” by Iris Kruijsdijk.

Even then it seems a lot of vocabulary of thus far unclear origin exists in Kʼwadza. The number of clear or at least potential comparisons with any other South Cushitic language is in the ballpark of 350 (and about 40 I think are offhand rejectable or outright disprovable, in the vein of the mutito example above). A few handfuls have clear internal derivational etymologies (such as ɬakat- ‘to hunt’ → ɬakataʔiko ‘hunter’; verb root cognate with WR *ɬakaat-), and some further semantically adventurous cases could be sought. As a language isolated from all of its relatives, and which might have spent up to even a millennium or two that way, loanwords must be however a major but little studied component. Ehret in his wordlist [3] already also notes a few parallels with Sandawe, the old northern neighbors of the Kʼwadza, and a few with Bantu (apparently just on the basis of consulting Swahili and/or Proto-Bantu, but not the actual local Bantu language Gogo that speakers may have assimilated to), both of which I’m sure could be extended by data available today. [4] I also suspect a few parallels noted by Ehret only from far-away East Cushitic relatives could be old family-internal loanwords, perhaps indicating that Kʼwadza has not split from West Rift around their attested location, but rather somewhere further north. The 2nd-millennium Nilotic expansions southwards could give good reasons why all of them have from there ended up in central Tanzania. For that matter, already the various parallels with Asa (at the entirely opposite end of the attested Rift Sprachraum, some 250 kilometers northeast) are evidence that pre-Kʼwadza once used to be spoken at least somewhat further north. [edit 2025-10-02: and see now in comments: even the Kʼwadza themselves report having only recently arrived amongst the Gogo!]


The venues for comparison do not end there though. E.g. if my hypothesis here of Rift languages being “driven” south by Nilotic holds, we might expect to find some Nilotic loans even in Kʼwadza (several are already known in West Rift; but then these lgs. are already in contact with Datooga and Maasai). And going by a principle of do-what-you-can, I have moreover taken a look at Heine’s reconstruction of Kuliak, [5] which I already had sitting around. This is a small language family further north in Uganda, yet they’re also already long-suspected to be an old relict in the region, predating both Nilotic and Bantu (but perhaps only around as old as Rift; they are known to have lexical connections with East Cushitic and I have earlier dug out a few parallels also specifically with Aroid [6]). Thus, Kuliak having formerly extended further south, or having already been somewhere between lakes Turkana and Victoria by the time pre-Kʼwadza was still located further north, are both at least plausible and would give some reason to expect parallels.

Checkup with Heine’s bit under 200 Proto-Kuliak roots seems to turn up, if we keep tight reins on phonological and semantic similarity, just a couple nice-looking matches with Kʼwadza.

1. Q. onayo ‘elephant’ ~ Kuliak *oŋor id. (> Ik oŋor, Tepes oŋo sg. : oŋóʔ pl.)
-ay- is a highly common formant in animal names in Kʼwadza, presumably cognate with an identical collective and occasionally also animal-name suffix in West Rift. No such usage is specifically noted by K&M, but cf. e.g. *ʕitsʼáy ‘tapeworm’, *daqʷay ‘donkey’, *poongáy ‘vulture’, *uunǰuuwaaláy ‘zorilla’. (In both WR and Q. it also forms tool names, possibly a cognate sense: ‘instrument’ → ‘actor’ → ‘animate’?) Most of these animal names also take no gender suffix in Q., only the simple nominative ending -o, e.g. kilimbayo ‘dwarf mongoose’, saʔangayo ‘python’, selembayo ‘turaco’, tsʼamayo ‘hedgehog’. We also seem to have different suffixation recorded in the first Kʼwadza wordlist from 1910, which has óniko, plural óno. If the root of the word is thus only √on-, this could well reflect substitution for foreign *oŋ-. As Kuliak roots reconstructed by Heine are mostly monosyllabic, this word, too, might be in origin a derivative, as could be also suggested by the Tepes plural. Loss of non-initial *r is, however, regular and also the plural could be thus still from *oŋor-oʔ. Unfortunately Tepes has no vowel length that could help us tell if the form is contracted or not. I don’t quite dare to suggest that loss of *r is old enough there for specifically a (pre-)Tepes form to have made it into (pre-)Kʼwadza.

Clearly non-cognate terms for ‘elephant’ in WR *daaŋʷ, Dahalo dokóómi; Ehret takes these two as themselves cognates, reconstructing *dox-. Especially the former shows good similarity also to Highland East *zaan-e ~ Agaw *dzan-, which come probably from something like *zahn-, given Amharic zähon. There are some fairly similar forms also in North Omotic, such as Kaffa dangiyoo, Wolaytta dangarsa, and in Aroid, such as Hamar dongar, that could represent some kind of a development *-kn- > *-ng- somewhere; or also simply re-suffixation from *daan- < *zaan-. Just a few Lowland East languages also seem to show this etymon; Appleyard notes Afar dakànu and Ogaden Somali dagon (probably ← Afar). (The well reflected Lowland East Cushitic etymon is instead the clearly unrelated *ʔarb-. However it could be also already the original native Afrasian term, seemingly connectable to Egyptian 3bw < *rb-.) Either way well enough evidence here for me to think that the West Rift word is old, not a secondary post-proto-Rift replacement.

2. Q. gwaʔesiko ‘giraffe’ ~ Asa geʔesuk ~ Kuliak *gwaicʼ id. (> Ik gwaítsʼ, Tepes gweʄ, Nyaŋi gweʄ).
Kʼwadza shows now the common masc. nom. ending -ko, which after coronals generally takes a linking vowel -i-. The Asa cognate likewise has masc. nom. -uk. Initial delabialization *Cʷ- > C- is broadly regular, and *aʔe > eʔe seems at least likely. There are indications that -s- can be a derivational suffix, but mainly in plural function, e.g. teleʔiko sg. : telesiko pl. ‘corpse’ (no parallels in West Rift; Ehret proposes this is derived from an originally independent root *šaʔ-, which would give Q. seʔem ‘every, each’ and Asa šaʔi ‘many’; I have no strong opinions on this). Going by the Kuliak comparison, here it seems to be however a part of the word root. The correspondence *s ~ *cʼ is not trivial though. Ehret’s South Cushitic reconstruction would actually offer exactly a palatal ejective, in his notation *tʸʼ, that would then give medial -s- everywhere in Rift. Another option could be that we have secondary glottalization on the Kuliak side, from earlier *gwaʔic or even *gwaʔis. Something like this might be expected from the fact that Heine reconstructs a relatively large range of vowel sequences like *ae, *iu, *oa, *uɔ in Proto-Kuliak (however I do not mean to suggest they’d all go back specifically to loss of pre-Kuliak *-ʔ-). If this is not the case, then Q. -ʔ- is probably intrusive to resolve hiatus.

Second syllable -e- also remains without an obvious explanation (the sequence -aʔi- is perfectly licit in Q.), but I could propose reconstructing that already for Kuliak also, giving Ik -ai- by palatal coloring of the original final consonant (similarly perhaps in gwaicik < *gwaiḱ-ik or rather *gwaeḱ-ik ‘birds’). This would simplify the odd-looking triple contrast of *ay, *ai and *ae in Heine’s reconstruction (cf. e.g. *day ‘good, nice’; *kaen ‘year’). Also some cases (though not all) where he reconstructs a rare phoneme *ẹ (distinct from all of *i, *ɪ, *e, *ɛ!), giving a correspondence Ik i ~ Tepes and Nyaŋi e, would also seem to be explainable similarly, e.g. Ik. bitsín ~ Tep. Ny. becin ‘left side’; Ik kíʄḁ ~ Tep. Ny. ‘ground, land’.

Clear non-cognates: WR *tsʼamasu, Dahalo kìri. Ehret compares the latter with Asa kiri ‘spotted’, plausible but not necessary. This could suggest also comparing the WR term with Q. tsʼamaliko ‘spotted cow’?

3. Q. saʔuko ‘blood’, Asa saʔaka, Ma’a saxá ~ Kuliak *seh id. (> Ik se, Tepes sɛʔ, Nyaŋi se)
Again with masc. nom. -ko, though this time it is not clear how we should explain 2nd syllable -u-. Specifically after /ʔ/, all of a, i, u can occur as a “linking” vowel, e.g. haʔiko ‘stool’; paʔuko ‘bark’; tsʼaʔako ‘neck’ (once also e: ɬeʔeko pl. ‘knives’); perhaps it is derivational (there is no apparent relationship to whether known West Rift cognates would have *ʔ or *ʕ). In Kuliak, what Heine reconstructs as non-initial *h in fact regularly yields Tepes ʔ, zero in the other two languages, and already in his view probably was [ʔ] in Proto-Kuliak. No such correspondence is found initially however and Heine notes it could be equated with a different correspondence pattern, Ik h- ~ Tepes & Nyaŋi zero, that does not occur word-medially or finally. In terms of contrastive phonology, for sure, but this might not imply anything about a shift *h > *ʔ or *ʔ > *h having ever happed. We might be just as well dealing with an accidentally complementary distribution ensuing from total loss of noninitial *h and initial *ʔ.

I have no explanation for -a- rather than expected -e- in Q., but the exact correspondence in root consonants makes me think a connection is regardless likely.

Ehret takes the apparent cognate in Ma’a as grounds to reconstruct instead Proto-South Cushitic *sakʼ-. His proposal for a development *-kʼ- > -ʔ- in Kʼwadza (under further conditions…) actually seems to have little evidence for it however, in particular with almost no evidence in comparisons extending to West Rift. E.g. one example could be poʔotis- ‘to dig’ ~ Iraqw booqiis- ‘to scoop up a lot’, but this is dubious due to poor West Rift distribution and alternate parallels in Alagwa: poʔo ‘hole’, poʔis- ‘to drill a hole’. I also find the correspondence Q. p ~ WR *b, according to Ehret from Proto-Rift *pʼ, [7] to look dubious: there is exactly one fully unproblematic comparison, Q. paʔaliko ‘flying termite’ ~ WR *baʔara ‘fly, bee’ (everything else, like here, suffers from various issues), and on semantic grounds even this seems like it could well be substratal Paleoafrican rather than native. Actually, a nicer option for Ma’a could be to assume -x- < *-kʼ- to represent fusion of original *ʔ with *k from the masculine gender ending; and note the Asa form showing rare but not entirely unusual nominative *-a, just as would be needed here for this.

The Proto-West Rift term for ‘blood’ is *tsʼeedee (regularly > Iraqw, Gorowa, Alagwa tsʼeeree; Burunge čʼeedee), which might be also cognate with East Cushitic: Lowland *ɗiig- (Dahalo ɗiiga seems to be a borrowing from here; natively we’d expect **tʼ-), Highland *tʼeeg-a, Dullay *čʼeg-de, with closest resemblance to the last-mentioned: thus *tsʼeedee ? < *čʼeg-tee or, in the case of a loan from pre-Rift into Dullay: *tʼeg-tee. — On the other hand, though, if we are assuming per this scheme *-dee in West Rift to be a suffix following a vocalized old stem consonant, and also per the Kuliak comparison assuming *e > a in unclear reasons in Kʼwadza, Asa and Ma’a, we could be also in a good position to treat all the Rift words as cognates after all, from a root to the effect of *tseeʔ-, *tseeʕ-. A Kuliak loanword from this would be conceivable also. By Ehret’s usual correspondences we’d actually expect š- in Asa in correspondence to WR *tsʼ though, but I am not worrying about that for the time being.

4. Q. tsʼaʔamuko ‘(? carpenter) ant’ ~ Kuliak *cah- ‘white ant’ (> Tepes caât sg. : caʔ pl., Nyaŋi ca)
Glossed by Ehret as ‘chungu ant’, where chungu appears to be the Swahili term for ‘carpenter ant’. Once again -ko is the masc. nom. ending, with -u- being now the usual linking vowel before -m-. There are also quite a lot of Kʼwadza lemmas ending specifically in -muko, 26 of them to be exact, and probably -m- is a noun-deriving suffix (confirmed at least in cases like ʔalayimuko sg. : ʔalayeʔtu pl. ‘young man’, or tsʼaʔamuko ‘hand’ ~ West Rift *tsʼaʕay ‘palm’). An echo vowel following root-final laryngeals seems to be also usual, and though the full argument would be more involved, I suspect this to reflect outright epenthesis from earlier *tsʼaʔmuko. So we could again, already by Kʼwadza-internal consideration of certain or probable morpho(phono)logy, extract a monosyllabic base root √tsʼaʔ-.

As in the previous example, Kuliak “*h” stands for initial *h-, mediofinal *-ʔ(-) and thus corresponds exactly with Q. The correspondence Q. tsʼ ~ Kuliak *c seems less expected, since the fairly common correspondence Q. s ~ WR *tsʼ suggests that unconditional ejectivization of earlier plain *ts, a phoneme conspicuously absent from all Rift languages, actually did not apply here. Any sort of assumptions of glottalization assimilation or dissimilation would also seem unwarranted. Ehret regardless proposes also a correspondence of general Rift *tsʼ ~ Dahalo non-ejective ts (routed from a Proto-South Cushitic *ʈ), and there might be room to fit in some other pre-Kʼwadza affricate that does end up feeding into a similar general ejectivization rule.

All of the numerous WR terms for ants reconstructed by K&M are clearly non-cognate. The most similar term is maybe Gorowa tsʼalʔamáy ‘small black ant’, but in light of Alagwa tsʼeleeʔu, Burunge čʼilaʔu they derive this from Proto-WR *tsʼilaʔu with vowel assimilation *i-a > *a-a. The general term for ‘ant’ seems to be *tɬʼakeeʔoo, attested in A B; other terms include e.g. *ħaraħará ‘white ant’, *siriinsoroħu ‘big black ant’.

Ehret thinks there is however a Dahalo cognate for Kʼwadza, tʼátʼe ‘small ant’. I cannot really follow how he derives *tʼ >> ʔ in Q. though, and this is again a poorly attested correspondence, mainly drawn from low-quality comparisons like Q. faʔ- ‘to sweep’ ~ Dahalo faatʼ- ‘to dig’, with no support from comparison with West Rift. These problems here are not, however, necessarily greater than dealing with tsʼ ~ *c in the Kuliak comparison either, and both options might remain on the table for now.

Even a third option could be though to opt for a purely Kʼwadza-internal etymology. Note the homophonic tsʼaʔamuko ‘hand’ above, which seems to be a secondary term from something like ‘to handle’ (West Rift *tsʼaʕay ‘palm’ is likewise conceivably an instrumental derivative, “handler”), replacing original South Cushitic *daba ‘hand’ (> WR *daba, Dahalo dába). If our ant name here means indeed specifically the carpenter ant, could these then have been also named “handlers, handy ones” for their nest-construction skills?

I will also mention one case of a Cushitic loanword in Kuliak where we seem to have particularly close resemblance with Kʼwadza:

5. ʔiɬikuko sg. ‘tooth’ : ʔiɬikwa pl. ‘teeth’ ~ Nyaŋi eɬegw ‘teeth’, Ik ilog ‘tooth’
A widespread Cushitic etymon, but a lateral fricative ɬ is actually unique to Kʼwadza. Elsewhere in South Cushitic we have Asa liga, Ma’a iʔíke (? < *ʔílke) (West Rift *siħinoo clearly noncognate, Dahalo kálati at most connectable by massive ad hoc changes). East Cushitic shows roughly *ʔilk- with reflexes like Somali ilig, Oromo ilkaano, but also several more divergent cognates like Dullay ilɠe, Burji irkʼa, Yaaku inʄeni; and frequently with the plural as specifically ilko (at least Somali, Rendille, Arbore, El Molo). Agaw shows *ʔɨrkʷ- (Bilin ʔirkʷ, Awngi ɨrkʷí etc.), whose *-r- is probably original (cf. its appearence even in Burji; and there seem to be a few other examples too of *rC > *lC as common East Cushitic). Ehret has proposed *ʔiɬkʷ- already in Proto-Cushitic, it seems only on the strength of Kʼwadza, but I suspect its appearence here could be explained by a cluster development *ʔilk- > *ʔiɬk- (> ʔiɬik-) at some early point in pre-Kʼwadza. This form would then have been borrowed into Nyaŋi (but not Ik, which perhaps has gotten the word instead from East Cushitic). A labiovelar in the plural also seems to connect Kʼwadza and Nyaŋi, though this also appears generally in the stem in Agaw, and also could have a connection with pl. *-o in East Cushitic (be it via Ehret’s rule *Cʷa > *Co, or an inversion of this).

To this etymon presumably belongs finally also a Kʼwadza variant ɬekwiya ‘tooth’, it seems by loss of the initial syllable and resuffixation to the plural base with *-kw-, but despite now showing a root vowel e that would match Nyaŋi, this does not seem immediately relevant: we don’t know if it’s been there long enough (i.e. can we tell if the plural comes from *ʔiɬekwa, or rather, does this come from **ɬikw-iya?)


Altogether, we have little data and various problems in the cases of ‘blood’ and ‘ant’, but I’m still fairly happy to have found the ‘giraffe’ and ‘elephant’ comparisons: two of the largest and most memorable animals of the African savanna, for which Afroasiatic pastoralists arriving from the north could very naturally have picked up a substratal or otherwise local term. Despite the case of ‘teeth’ suggesting specifically pre-Kʼwadza ~ Kuliak contacts in the other direction, we might also not even need to assume the proximate source was necessarily the lineage of attested Kuliak itself; it could have been some lost sister branch, or even a shared but unrelated substrate. Very difficult kind of propositions to show though. Still, investigation into the substrate vocabulary of Nilotic and Bantu languages of Eastern Africa could eventually provide more data on this track, and I’d hope this makes at least to reminder to not neglect the evidence of languages like Kuliak and Kʼwadza in that process: bit players in recent times, but presumably of greater importance before.

[1] To be fair, probably no one is claiming literally this. Neglect of extinct languages’ materials might come about naturally enough among Africanists already from the fact that there is still lots and lots of fieldwork / basic documentation to do also among languages that are still living (but perhaps dwindling in numbers).
[2] The proximately closer account for this word seems to be that, if we continue to assume it goes phonologically back to *mut- with assibilation of *t before a close vowel (probably via *č; West Rift *tsʼ normally corresponds to Asa š which already suggests deaffrication), it would be cognate with Proto-West-Rift *mut- ‘to pierce, stab’. Ehret already considers this too, but suggests that the derivation relationship is already Proto-South-Cushitic and that, thus, also mutito and mùtà ultimately derive from that verb. Note however that if we rejected this, we’d also be rid of an implicit assumption of back-and-forth semantics in Asa (ca. ‘piercing thing’ > ‘any long point’ > ‘spear’).
[3] Unclear to me to what extent these observations are published; I have not seen his 1974 language contact monograph Ethiopians and East Africans.
[4] It seems that a major dictionary of Gogo has appeared in 2009, and likewise a major dictionary of Sandawe in 2012. I have no idea where wider Northeast Bantu or specifically Northeast Coast Bantu (where Gogo is classified) comparative work is going currently, but this could also prove helpful.
[5] Heine, Bernd (1976): The Kuliak Languages of Eastern Uganda. Nairobi, East African Publishing House.
[6] Only two obvious cases: Aroid *aan- ~ Kuliak *an- ‘hand’, and Aroid *kʼuli ~ Kuliak *kɔl ‘he-goat’ (at least the latter already known in literature, via parallels existing also in East Cushitic and in Ongota). A few others would require discussion at least on the level of my Kʼwadza ~ Kuliak etymologies here.
[7] Cf. also my post from just last month about the dubiousness of Ehret’s *pʼ in his scheme of overall Cushitic reconstruction.

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Posted in Etymology

No **pʼ in Proto-Cushitic

A common meme about glottalic consonants, popularized by its application to the glottalic theory of Proto-Indo-European, claims that if a particular place of articulation would be missing among a series of ejectives, it would be most likely the bilabial /pʼ/. This seems to me, while not false, to be mostly coming from just three families: Athabaskan, Mayan and Afro-Asiatic. With the first two we are however pretty sure already their proto-languages started off having *p but no **pʼ (in Mayan instead a *ɓ; in Athabaskan also with a gap at **pʰ), and so the ongoing absense in daughter languages is really an archaism, not a set of independent datapoints. Even in Afro-Asiatic this seems to be true for Semitic. The family overall is however is so old and worn-down that details of bottom-level reconstruction remain highly speculative. There exist also proposals to derive mixed labial correspondences, that is things like Semitic *p ~ Egyptian b, from an earlier *pʼ. If etymological data remains scarce and disputed however, this type of argument seems very weak as well as open to other reconstructions. In particular it shouldn’t be relied much on theorizing how could /pʼ/ gaps arise, even if it remains good evidence that they can exist.

Already subgroups of Afroasiatic seem to have work to be done on this too. Within the confines of Cushitic, we can find quite a lot of examples of languages with **pʼ gaps, say /tʼ (t)sʼ tʃʼ kʼ kʼʷ/ in Xamtanga (identical also to a typical ejective inventory in adjacent Ethiopian Semitic languages, but in this case plausibly ultimately at least mostly inherited). The usual sub-subgroup reconstructions of Proto-Agaw and Proto-Eastern Cushitic indeed lack **pʼ also.

The late Christopher Ehret’s 1987 reconstruction of overall Proto-Cushitic (as already his 1980 reconstruction of Proto-Southern Cushitic) regardless includes *pʼ. Yet only a single language actually shows a /pʼ/ reflex, namely Dahalo. There is also no attested nearby source that it could’ve gotten from as a loanword phoneme. On the other hand, Dahalo has no close relatives either and could have innovated many things by itself over millennia of independent development. Everywhere else, Ehret’s proposed *pʼ is reflected as something else:

  • *pʼ > b: in Beja, Agaw, West Rift and Ma’a; in the last-mentioned actually the implosive ɓ, but this also regularly reflects earlier *b.
  • *pʼ > p: the two other (recently extinct) Rift languages Kʼwadza and Aasax.
  • *pʼ > f: most of East Cushitic.
  • *pʼ > ɓ: the divergent (and also recently extinct) East Cushitic language Yaaku.

If this scheme had reasonably systematic data for it, we could fairly well propose *pʼ for this kind of a correspondence pattern (or perhaps suspect a *ɓ, that first of all turns into an intermediate *pʼ at least in mainline East Cushitic). However this is not the case. Ehret has ten etymologies showing *pʼ at all, none of which seem to be good, at least at that task. I list here Ehret’s data amended with the full breakdown of South Cushitic cognates from his reconstruction, as many issues seem to lurk there as well, with comments drawn also from Kießling & Mous’ newer reconstruction of Proto-West Rift and Appleyard’s reconstruction of Proto-Agaw whereever helpful.

Three etymologies I think fail completely due to poor semantics (all have also weak distribution):

  • *pʼaʕ- ‘to revolve’ (#108): Beja -bʔas- ‘to turn around’ (tr.), South *pʼuʕ- ‘to drill a hole’ (> Alagwa poʔo ‘hole’, poʔis- ‘to drill a hole’, Kʼwadza poʔotis- ‘to dig a hole’, Dahalo pʼuʕʕum- ‘to be pierced’)
    According to Ehret, the Alagwa words are loans from (pre-)Kʼwadza, since by inheritance **b- and **-ʕ- would be expected. This however puts the supposed Proto-Southern meaning ‘drill a hole’ on very weak ground; it looks more like a secondary development in Alagwa from a simple nominal proto-sense ‘hole’. In Dahalo we have also pʼuʕ- ‘to prick’ (transitive or intransitive?) and transitive pʼuʕuð- ‘to stab, pierce’.
    In a newer Kʼwadza etymological wordlist compiled by Ehret (that a correspondent has shared with me) he also now compares the Kʼw. verb instead with Iraqw booqiis- ‘to scoop up a lot’, also pointing to ‘hole (in ground?)’ as the original root meaning here. As -q- < *-kʼ- is no longer readily compatible with Dahalo -ʕ-, and I think long oo vs. short u would be also trouble, even the overall Southern comparison seems to be now undermined.
  • *kupʼr- ‘dirt’ (#113): Yaaku kuɓur ‘sheep/goat dung’, Ma’a kuɓiru ‘dustiness’. A complete reach.
    [edit: and could the latter be instead somehow from Arabic ɣubār, e.g. thru Swahili?]
  • *tʼiipʼ- ‘vein, sinew, hair’ (#115): North Agaw *čɨbk- + Awngi čičifi ‘hair’, Yaaku tʼeeɓe ‘sinew of limb’. Another stretch (“any long thin object” ~ “any long thin object”). (And where is Ehret pulling ‘vein’ from at all?)

The following three seem at least partly tolerable as comparisons, but after cleanup could be better reconstructed with *b:

  • *pʼitsʼakʼ- ‘saliva; moisture’ (#109): Agaw *bɨsq- ‘saliva’, Somaloid *fisaq- ‘wet’, Rift *čʼɨmpʼakʼ- ‘saliva’ (> West Rift *tsʼubaqare, Kʼwadza čʼembaliko, Aasax šebeʔela).
    I see no good reason why Ehret would reconstruct *pʼ and not *b for Rift. Perhaps this is because of unexpected -mb- in Kʼwadza, but replacing one irregularity with ad hoc cluster rules for *mpʼ (and this cluster itself arising irregularly in Proto-Rift, it seems) is not progress. This would leave only the Somaloid item in support of *pʼ, included however by complete semantic speculation (“anything water-related” ~ “anything water-related”) and it should be just rejected offhand. I cannot even find what actual data it might correspond to! (The normal literary Somali for ‘wet’ seems to be instead qooyan.)
    — Kießling & Mous analyze the West Rift word (known to Ehret only from Alagwa and Burunge) as derived from *tsʼubaq- ‘to spit’. This also has a seemingly irregularly nasalized reflex tsʼuunq- in Iraqw & Gorowa. It is possible this could have a common origin with the nasalization in Kʼwadza? e.g. maybe the Proto-Rift form should be rather *čʼɨbankʼ-.
    I am not highly impressed either with the Agaw ~ Rift comparison (and the Rift verb root seems like it might be in origin onomatopoetic), but I will not spend effort on trying to disprove it entirely, since it seems we have already disposed of *pʼ here.
  • *di/upʼ- ‘to rise, swell’ (#110): Beja dibba, dubba ‘hill’, North Agaw *dɨbba ‘hill, mountain’, Yaaku tiɓ- ‘to jump over’, Oromo difdifii ‘beer in the second stage of preparation’ (“when it is frothing up?”)
    The Beja–Agaw correspondence is clear, but could be just *b. The proposed Yaaku and Oromo cognates meanwhile seem very poor. And by now Appleyard indeed notes better cognates from East Cushitic that also show rather -b-: Saho díbō, Afar dúbō ‘mountain, wilderness’, Sidaama dubbo ‘forest’ (in HEC also Libido dubbo; Kambaata dubbu ‘ensete tree’ –JP), Somali dabo ‘little hill’. And might this root be further related not to any sense of ‘high, above’, but to Eastern *da/i/ub- ‘back, tail’, by a sense ‘backcountry’?
  • *ga/umpʼ- ‘dim, dark’ (#388): East *ga/umb- ‘black’, Rift *gapʼ- ‘dim, dark, dull’ (> West Rift *gib- ‘to grow dark’, Kʼwadza kakaʔape ‘grey cow’)
    The Eastern ~ WR correspondence is reasonable, but reconstructing *pʼ rather than *b relies entirely on the Kʼwadza word, whose inclusion seems like pure speculation; the etymology is absent also from his newer list. We can moreover note that this has a Yaaku reflex kumpu that also supports *b rather than *pʼ. Ehret claims this would reflect a “*pʼ ~ *b ablaut” which seems to be simply an ad hoc device to paper over problems in sound correspondences (same goes for his other “consonant ablaut” alternations like *f ~ *b or *kʼ ~ *g).

The remaining four do not fail in any obvious way, but still seem poor in individual ways.

*pʼah- or *pʼaħ- ‘dikdik’ (#107): Beja baha, Yaaku ɓahɓah. Unproblematic correspondences, but attestation in only two languages far apart seems like prime conditions for chance resemblance (however see below for another line of thought).

*dla/ipʼ- ‘to pay’ (#111): Agaw *jɨb- ‘to buy’, South *tɬʼapʼ- ‘to pay’ (> Iraqw tɬʼaway pl. ‘wives’, Kʼwadza tɬʼap- ‘to pay brideprice’, Ma’a -ɬanú ‘to pay’)
Kießling & Mous derive the Iraqw word (they also find a long vowel: tɬʼaaway) instead by irregular lenition from *tɬʼagway, compared then with Alagwa & Burunge tɬʼagoo ‘older sister’, Bur. pl. tɬʼagway, but removing it from here wouldn’t particularly create trouble. They however also have an interestingly similar West Rift reconstruction *tɬʼaxʷ- for ‘to buy’! This could be suggestive that instead of a single root ending in *-pʼ-, the original root is shorter *tɬʼa- with different suffixes (Ehret already proposes that the Ma’a form arises from *tɬʼapʼ-n- with the original root-final consonant lost). Appleyard mentions Saho–Afar ɖaam- ‘to buy’ as another conceivable cognate (yes, *tɬʼ >> ɖ would be regular), which could point in the same direction, maybe showing compensatory lengthening from earlier *ɖaC-m-?

Another possible angle is that, once the Iraqw reflex is removed, Kʼwadza p could be also simply from Proto-Rift *p and then further Ehret’s Proto-Cushitic *p, which also seems to mostly turn into b in Agaw; but I find his PCush. *p also fairly weak and wouldn’t treat reconstructing it instead as much improvement.

There is trouble within Agaw as well: the reconstruction with *j (i.e. [dʒ]) > Bilin & Khamtanga jɨb-, Awngi jew- is actually a unique correspondence. Appleyard doesn’t think this is fatal for considering these regardless inherited, and considers this could be a specific reflex of earlier *di- > *dʲɨ- or *gi- > *gʲɨ-, and Ehret has a few further suggestions in favor of the latter (and I think decent counterevidence to the first, cf. *dɨbba ‘hill’ above where -u- variants in the cognate set probably come by labial assimilation due to *-b-; Awngi dɨmmi ~ East *diim- ~ *duum- ~ Kʼwadza dimay- ‘red’); but this doesn’t help us that much in establishing if we should expect *j- from Ehret’s *dl-; its Agaw reflex normally seems to be *d. A skeptic could still reasonably claim that thus, given *j ≠ *tɬʼ and also the supposed ablaut relationship *ɨ (< *i, *u) ≠ *a, we have no regular correspondence between these verbs and so shouldn’t assume them as cognates.

*gaynpʼ- ~ *ginpʼ- ‘heel’ (#112): Yaaku kimɓa, Arbore gimɓa, South *gəmpʼ- (> Alagwa & Burunge gobina, Dahalo gimpʼo). To add: El Molo ɠíma (< *gimba or ? *gimɓa).

Kießling & Mous derive the Al.+Bur. words from West Rift *goob- ‘run away, flee’, replacing common West Rift *kooloo ‘heel, ankle’ (even in Dahalo: kónkoolo ‘ankle’). This seems to simplify things by removing any reason to posit an ablaut variant with *-ay- (which would give Ehret’s Southern *ə and then by a poorly evidenced rule, Rift ⁽*⁾o before *NC), or a cluster with *-npʼ- rather than the more typologically natural *-mpʼ-. However, if so, we are left with attestation only in a couple marginal languages around the southern end of ECush. and I would suspect this is a borrowing between them. Ehret, too, already notes that at least the Arbore word should be considered a loan, in his view probably from pre-Yaaku.

*ɬapʼ- ‘rib’ (#114): North Agaw *läbäk ‘heart’, Lowland East *laf- ‘bone’, West Rift *ɬab- ‘rib’
The Agaw term calls for a semantic development ‘ribcage’ > ‘heart’, which seems to me implausible. It would surely more likely belong with common Afroasiatic *li/ub- ‘heart, soul’, as is already noted by Appleyard.

The East ~ Rift correspondence looks more tolerable, but I am independently not very convinced by Ehret’s proposal that South *ɬ would correspond to East *l. Without going here into a full review of the data, the only truly good-looking example of this is (ɬ.1 #569) East *leʕ- ~ South *ɬeeħe- ‘moon’ (> West Rift *ɬaħaaŋʷ, Kʼwadza ɬahayiko, Aasax lehek, Ma’a mɬihe), still with also an unclear *ʕ ~ *ħ mismatch and unclear vowel length. Ehret’s next-best comparisons are (ɬ.2 #331) Lowland East *lahw-, East Dullay (Harso) lax-, Yaaku lax- ‘arrow’ ~ South *ɬax- ‘sharp’ (> Dahalo ɬákane, Kʼwadza ɬahamo), still inexact enough to be possibly simply coincidence (and also Dullay ⁽*⁾x seems to usually not have East Cushitic etymologies [1]); and (ɬ.3 #342) East *ʔilk- ~ South *ʔiɬikʷa- ‘tooth’ (> Kʼwadza ʔiɬikuko, Aasax liga, Ma’a iʔíke), where at least the East ~ Kʼwadza comparison seems clear, but development *lk > *ɬk > ɬVk seems conceivable, and the Aasax and Ma’a forms are a bit too phonologically divergent for me to trust them off the cuff. Also, *lk in this word seems to be only Lowland East (in Highland East we have divergent forms: Burji irkʼa, Sidaama hinko and Hadiyya–Kambaata *inkʼo; *r appears also in Agaw *ʔɨrkʷ-), which could be an argument for an old loan into pre-Kʼwadza. Moreover these two comparisons don’t even extend to West Rift (where we have *diħ ‘sharp’; *siħinoo ‘tooth’, *ʕaantɬʼoo ‘molar/tooth’). A further comparison that appears tolerable off the cuff is (ɬ.4 #384) East *leb- ‘big, male’ ~ South *ɬaf- ‘to grow’, but this seems to fail since the Southern reconstruction is itself not well evidenced, but semantically freestyled from disparate reflexes: West Rift *ɬaf- ‘to be alive’, Kʼwadza ɬaɬaf- ‘to move on’, Dahalo ɬáfi ‘lungs’ (at least the first and the last still seemingly related, but no evidence of ‘to grow’ here that I can see). Another that seems clearly correct is his (ɬ.5 #444) East *lama ~ South *ɬaama ‘two’ (> Aasax ɬam, Dahalo lííma), but this might simply have original *l- with regular l- in Dahalo and irregular ɬ- in Aasax, rather than the opposite. Ehret bases *ɬ also on Beja medial -r- in asaraama ‘seven’, where I am not sure if conditional *l > r can be ruled out.

Given a voiced ~ voiceless initial correspondence and a voiceless ~ voiced final one, I am finally also slightly tempted to speculate with some sort of a Schwebeablauting original paradigm *laHb- ~ *lHab-; but really I’d expect to see a heavier reflex like **laaf- or **laff- in Eastern in such a case.


At this point, a look at a problem of distribution is also in order. Here is the attestation of Ehret’s various *pʼ roots across Cushitic (Beja, Agaw, Lowland East, Highland East, Dullay, Yaaku, Dahalo, Ma’a, Aasax, Kʼwadza, West Rift); question marks where Ehret notes himself doubts, minus signs where later literature has shown or I have proposed some, as reviewed above:

            │ B │ Ag │ Lo Hi Du Y │ Da Ma As Q WR
*pʼaH- │ + │ │ + │
*pʼitsʼakʼ- │ │ - │ ? │ + + +
*di/upʼ- │ + │ + │ - - │
*dla/ipʼ- │ │ - │ │ + + -
*ga/umpʼ- │ │ │ + + + │ - +
*g(a)inpʼ- │ │ │ ? + │ + -
*ɬapʼ- │ │ - │ + │ +
────────────┼───┼────┼────────────┼─────────────
(*pʼaʕ-) │ - │ │ │ - + ?
(*kʼubr-) │ │ │ - │ -
(*tʼiipʼ-) │ │ - │ - │

Unsurprizingly the distribution in notably divergent languages (Dahalo, Ma’a, Aasax) or branches (Highland East, Dullay) is generally poor; but Yaaku makes an exception to this trend, being present in more etymologies than any other branch, and a few times as the only East Cushitic language at all. It seems evident to me that a major motivation for Ehret to reconstruct *pʼ has been the fact that a /ɓ/ of no previously known origin exists in Yaaku. But whether a language preserves a proto-phoneme well phonetically should have no bearing on if it preserves it also well etymologically! And we already know Yaaku, too, is a divergent and poorly attested language. If Ehret’s supposed correspondences for *pʼ were correct, and Yaaku had a reasonably large number of reflexes, we should expect to find also quite a few more examples of supposed correspondences like Agaw *b ~ non-Yaaku East *f ~ West Rift *b. Perhaps it is also not an accident that two of the three proposed reconstructions that I think are ad hoc semantic shift make-believe are present in Yaaku, the only branch with this dishonor.

If we suppose there was no Proto-Cushitic **pʼ, where does Yaaku /ɓ/ come from then? In proximate origin it could be most simply a loanword phoneme from e.g. their immediate superstrate language, the Eastern Nilotic Samburu or some earlier stage thereof. But if the introduction of this phoneme has not been recent, some words could have also been introduced from a source that did not itself have /ɓ/ — e.g. gimɓa from a pre-Dahalo *gimpʼ- ‘heel’, or ɓahɓah ‘dikdik’ from some other (East?) Cushitic language that had maintained a cognate of Beja baha. Borrowing initial /b/ as /ɓ/ after the devoicing of original *b (established for Yaaku) seems to be indeed also attested in East Dullay, where there exist examples like Dobase ɓaakʼulaččé ‘mole’, ɓiiro ‘office’ ← Amharic bakʼlo, biro; Gollango ɓoqollo ‘maize’ ← Amharic bäkʼollo (or probably via Oromo bokkʼolloo). (Also worth noting that medial [b] in voiced environments actually remains in both in Yaaku and East Dullay, but now just as an allophone of /p/, which has apparently not been enough to lead to re-introducing initial /b/ as a “halfway loanword phoneme”.)


I’ve knocked out *pʼ here as perhaps the most obviously poor segment in Ehret’s Proto-Cushitic reconstruction. He has many more suspicious segments too however as well, of which I’ve already noted above his *p and *ɬ; a few others are *ŋ, *x, *xʷ, *ɣ, *ɣʷ. The lessons from *pʼ are on show for all of these, too. They share the features of being preserved only narrowly; mostly merging with something else elsewhere (often “against the grain”, e.g. *ɣ > *g); and the etymologies being drawn, it seems, disproportionately often either from some single language supposedly showing a unique reflex (e.g. *p supposedly sometimes preserved irregularly in Awngi), or from Ehret’s Proto-Southern reconstruction which might itself hide other problems. But also following the lessons from *pʼ, at the same time I expect that the etymologies for these will not need to be all thrown out entirely.

I’ve already discussed previously the overall phonological look of Ehret’s PSC too, and it also seems probable that even PSC and Proto-Rift *pʼ could prove to be an error. The Dahalo data in particular is so scarce that it cannot really serve as a grounding point even here. To some extent I suspect the same of even *p, *ŋ, *x, *xʷ; these clearly must be reconstructed for Proto-Rift at minimum (as they survive into all descendants), but good Rift–Dahalo correspondences are quite few and could be perhaps refactored into something else.

Whether the lesson here fully generalizes for wider Afroasiatic comparison remains to be seen. But I would think it is likely that the absense of **pʼ from the ejective subsystem is in fact common inheritance already between Cushitic, Egyptian and Semitic. Even alleged *pʼ in Omotic also seems to be not strongly established (though definitely appears in some North Omotic languages in native lexicon; whether as a primary archaism or secondary development will still need more comparative work, of which there is very little on Proto-North Omotic at all). Chadic I have not dug into much, but it seems /ɓ/ is there at least decently common. This could still maybe eventually prove to be a lead on an original labial emphatic for Afroasiatic after all. But even in that case it would be probably be then the implosive *ɓ already to start with, not an ejective *pʼ that mysteriously self-destructs everywhere even while other ejectives manage to stick around with decent track record. And after all, if we do away with the proposal of Ehret’s Proto-Cushitic *pʼ, we then really continue to have basically no evidence in favor of such a development. In families where the reconstruction of *pʼ is undoubtable (mainly in the Caucasus and Pacific Northwest) it simply appears to be a stable phoneme, no worse than the likes of *tʼ and *kʼ. [2] If there’s any trend analogous to the occasional tendency of *p to self-destruct to the exclusion of other voiceless stops (generally on a trajectory of > ɸ > f ~ h), it simply is not backed up in the data yet.

All this then leaves it still an open question how precisely the *pʼ-gaps we meet in a few language families have arisen. The only phonological trend that appears well established here is that such a gap can simply continue to persist; and hence, does not really call for any special explanations where a “recent” pre-Proto-X *pʼ would have to be assumed to have existed and then “gone somewhere”. And no such process is necessarily required anywhere in further prehistory, either. Other options exist, where we could assume also e.g. some deep prehistorical rise of ejectives during a stage of development lacking voiceless **p as well. Into such a system *p might be then well refilled later on by processes like loanwords or conditional devoicing of *b (this is, in fact, likely the case in Athabaskan, whose relatives Eyak and Tlingit lack native labial stops altogether); while the general areal rarity of ejectives could lead to still continuing to maintain an old labial gap within the ejective series. Not every pit has been freshly dug: some might be the gradually filling up remnants of old lakes or canyons.

[0] Some readers may note my unfortunate absense from the currently ongoing Congress of Finno-Ugric Studies at Tartu. In lieu of my planned presentation there, I hope this Cushitic-and-typological note, out from my drafts after a while in the works, makes at least for some consolation.
[1] Given that *h is normally lost in Dullay, maybe the correspondence h ~ x simply represents late loaning, after the rise of native /x/ in East Dullay by lenition of *k (plus its phonemicization by devoicing of *g).
[2] To be sure, it is also noticable that quite many Cushitic and Semitic languages as well as modern Coptic have in fact gotten rid of their ejectives altogether. Almost never wholly without traces though, with e.g. *kʼ > q being conspicuously common. And it is also fairly clear this has been a late process, starting from common PCush. and PSem. systems that did have ejectives.

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