A GULLAH GLOSSARY
The Glossary included in this volume, while making no pretense to absolute accuracy, is offered as a workable list of the words in common use by the Negroes of the South Carolina coast. It is doubtful, however, if the vocabulary of any single individual comprises more than half the list, for many words in everyday use about Georgetown or Charleston occur rarely at Beaufort, or on the Combahee. Then, too, many terms and expressions have only a local significance. On the seacoast and along the lower reaches of the tidal rivers, “trus’-me-Gawd” (I trust my God) is the common name for the cranky, unseaworthy dugout canoe, the hazard of whose use on the rough waters of the coast implies faith in the watchful care of a divine Providence. Higher up the same river, however, where smoother waters exact smaller faith, the coffin-like craft is merely a “coo-noo,” a “cun-noo,” or a “con-noo.”
He who adventures into Gullah and would “make head or tail” of its queer phonetics, must keep in mind the sounds “uh,” “e,” “ran,” and “a.” In no other tongue, perhaps, can so much be expressed with so little strain upon brain or lips or glottis as by the Gullah’s laconic use of these grunting jungle-sounds.
To the Gullah, the naked “a” at the top of the first column of the dictionary is “uh,” the dominant note upon which his speech is pitched. With “uh” he boastfully proclaims the personal pronoun “I.” As “bubbuh,” or “budduh,” or “buh,” he greets his brethren; as “sistuh,” or “tittuh,” his sisters. Sweet potatoes he roasts and eats as “tettuh.” His father, mother, daughter, are “farruh, murruh, daa’tuh;” his ever is “ebbuh,” his never is “nebbuh;” forever, “fuhrebbuh.” His answer is “ansuh,” his master is “mastuh,” his pastor is “pastuh” (and so is his pasture); his either is “eeduh,” his neither is “needuh,” his fever is “febuh,” his river is “ribbuh,” his cooter is “cootuh,” his silver is “silbuh.” If in daylight he falls asleep in an open place, the vulture’s wing that hovers over him will cast a “shadduh.” His neighbor is “navuh,” his favor is “fabuh,” his labor is “lavuh,”his Savior is “Sabeyuh.” His bother is “bodduh,” his other is “odduh,” his t’other is “todduh;” another, “anodduh.” Otter is “ottuh,” and ’gator is “’gatuh;” better, “mo’bettuh,” and alligator, “alligettuh.” Barrow is “barruh,” burrow is “burruh,” furrow is “furruh,” harrow is “harruh,” borrow is “borruh;” tomorrow, “tomorruh.” His mourner is “mo’nuh,” and so is his more than (more nor) and corner is “cawnuh,” “mauma” is “maumuh,” “maussa” is “maussuh,” cover is “kibbuh;” uncover, “onkibbuh,” the white man is “buckruh,” the Negro is “Nigguh.” And finger is “finguh,” as ginger is “ginjuh.” Pshaw is “shuh,” and sir is “suh.” His feather is “fedduh,” his weather is “wedduh,” his measure is “medjuh,” his pleasure is “pledjuh.” And if, in pleasantry or wrath, he cries out upon a compatriot, he scornfully apostrophizes him as “uh Gulluh nigguh!”
Following “uh” in frequency of occurrence comes “’e,” a contraction of he, she (but used also for it)—usually pronounced as “ee” in see, but sometimes approaching “e” in set and “i” in sit; but, without the use of diacritical marks, the exact shading cannot be expressed. This “’e” is ever in the Gullah mouth. If a man has shuffled off this mortal coil, “’e dead;” if a fruitful woman has blessed the earth, “’e hab chile;” if the dusky infant cries out upon the world, “’e cry;” if a mule be too free with her hindlegs, “’e kick.” If winter comes, “’e freeze,” and in summer weather “’e hot.” If a storm approaches, “’e gwine to wedduh;” when it breaks, “’e t’unduh, ’e lightnin’, ’e blow win’, ’e rain.”
In “Myths of the Georgia Coast,” Colonel Jones’s Gullahs pronounce this contraction “eh,” but with this a clearer phonetic apprehension of the Gullah does not permit agreement. “Eh” is a good English word which the Gullah pronounces correctly and frequently utters in the ejaculation “eh, eh!” to express surprise or bewilderment.
Almost the twin of “’e” is “um,” expressing him, her, it and them. Did that man steal your pig? “’E t’ief’um.” Did the woman whip the boy? “’E lick’um.” Did the fire burn your house? “’E bu’n’um.” Have you finished your task? “Uh done’um.” Did you shoot those crows? “Uh shoot’um.” And “um” added to see or saw becomes “shum.”See that woman? “Uh shum.” Did you see her yesterday? “Uh shum.” Will you see her tomorrow? “Uh gwine shum.” “Shum” expresses see, seeing, or saw him, her, it, or them.
If the Gullah Negro, in “fuh him” and “fuh she,” changes the pronoun to “um,” he adds an “r” for euphony and utters a rolling “fuhr’um;” and, similarly, “tuh him,” “tuh she” are changed to “tuhr’um.”
The Gullah’s favorite pronunciation of our first vowel is that of “a” in at, hat, bat—words that, like all others having the same “a” sound, he invariably pronounces correctly. Drawled to the double “a” as in “baa,” it does yeoman service in “paat’,” path; “paa’t,” part; “smaa’t,” smart; “cyaa’t,” cart; “h’aa’t,” heart; “shaa’p,” sharp; “baa’n,” barn; “yaa’d,” yard; “maamy,” mother; “maa’k,” mark; “staa’t,” start; and so in many other words.
In the Gullah there are many contradictions, the Negro sometimes taking surprisingly short-cuts, expressing himself succinctly and saying a great deal with but a mouthful of words; while at others he rambles interminably and wanders so far afield in his verbal intoxication that he can hardly come soberly again to his starting point.
In this tongue one word or combination of words frequently does duty for singular and plural numbers, past and present tenses, and for masculine, feminine, and neuter genders. Thus “Uh shum” may mean I saw him, I see him, I saw her, I see her, I saw it, I see it, I saw them, I see them. So “Uh tell’um” means I told or I tell him, her, or them. Oxen and bulls, as well as cows, are generally classified and denominated as “cow,” oxen as “ox,” “two ox,” “ten ox,” etc., while a single ox, if not called a “cow,” is invariably “one oxin.” “’Ooman” is both woman and women; “man” stands also for men, although “mens” is sometimes used for the plural, as “t’ree man,” or “fo’ mens.”
Many words the Gullahs pronounce correctly. These are here spelled in the normal way, as to respell them would result only in a useless mutilation of the text.
Very often the Gullah usage consists in new and peculiar applications of words, twisted to meet its own needs, and making a single vocable serve the purpose of many.
With a single “knock,” the Gullah knocks, has knocked, is knocking.
With but a “rock,” he rocks, has rocked, is rocking.
With “fight,” he fights, has fought, is fighting.
With “run,” he runs, has run, is running; and so on with many other words, used to express singular and plural numbers, or all the simple tenses of the verb.
While the Gullah usually holds fast to his favorite pronunciation, he sometimes permits himself a grotesque variation. For example, his usual pronunciation of car is “cyaa’,” which he utters as flatly as a Charlestonian of the Battery; but should he permit himself a “cyaar,” he will roll you an “r” as raucously as any Ohioan.
Of course, all Gullah Negroes pronounce certain English words correctly, while others approximate, in varying degrees, the speech of their former masters. This fact accounts for the slight variations that will be noticed in the speech of different individuals in these stories, and in the several pronunciations sometimes occurring in the Glossary. For example, the Gullah word for you, ye, your, yours, is variously pronounced “ona, oona, oonuh, unnuh,” and, among dyed-in-the-wool dialecticians, “yunnuh” and “wunnuh.” So, the Orang-utan is called by some “’Rangatang” and by the extremists “’Ranguhtang.”
Warm is “wawm;” form or inform, “fawm,” “eenfawm;” morning is “mawnin’;” corn, “cawn;” horse or horses, “hawss;” horn, “hawn;” born, “bawn;” cow is correctly pronounced, and calf is near enough to the Charleston usage to pass. Tore, torn, tears, and tearing are never used, tear taking the place of all. As: the girl tore her petticoat—“De gal tayre ’e ’coat.” That man’s shirt is torn—“Da’ man’ shu’t tayre.” This cloth tears badly—“Dis clawt’ tayre bad.” They are tearing off the boards—“Dem duh (does) tayre off de boa’d’.”
Them (“dem”) is universally used for they and their. They took off their shoes—“Dem tek off dem shoesh.” Dog and hog, while sometimes drawled, are very rarely lengthened to “dawg” and “hawg,” tho’ God is almost invariably “Gawd.” The contraction of your is “yo’;” and yet, foryours, instead of “yo’n”—the mountaineers’ “yourn”—they prefer “you’own,” as theirs or their own is always “dem’own.”
Unlike Mr. Weller, the Gullah does not affect the letter V, which he always changes to W or B—Violet modestly shrinking to Wi’let or Bi’let, while, as Benus, the amorous Aphrodite doubtless loves quite as ardently in her humble way. And the soft and teasing vex suggests, as “bex,” anger swift and passionate!
“Lukkuh,” or “same lukkuh,” a corruption of like unto or same like unto—“same lukkuh” occasionally shortened into “sukkuh” by an excited or rapid talker—express likeness, resemblance.
“Hukkuh” is, of course, how come, or how came.
“’E fat” means that the man, the woman, the pig, or the lightwood, is or was fat. “’E fat fuh true” (in truth) adds emphasis, while “’E fat fuh sowl” brooks no contradiction.
“’Puntop,” sometimes “’puntap,” or “’pantap,” on or near Edisto Island, means not only on top and on, but at. As: “De squinch owl light ’puntop de chimbly;” “Him plant’ ’puntop Cumbee ribbuh;” “W’en uh look ’puntop de ’ooman en’ see ’e yeye red, uh know him bex.” “Biggin” is equivalent to begin, began, begun, or beginning.
“Haffuh” is both have to and had to. “W’en de strain leff’um to John’ Ilun’, him haffuh tek him foot en’ gonespangtown,” meaning when she missed the train at John’s Island station she had to walk all the way to Charleston.
“Same fashi’n,” expressing likeness, has no sartorial significance.
“Alltwo” may mean both or each; as: “alligettuh en’ cootuh alltwo stan’ same fashi’n, alltwo hab fo’ foot en’ one tail, en’ alltwo trabble ’puntop dem belly.” So “stan’ lukkuh” and “stan’ sukkuh” mean look alike or bear a close resemblance, whether standing, sitting, crawling, lying, flying, or swimming.
“Wuffuh,” or “woffuh,” means why, or what for.
At times, “duh” and “suh” (not the “suh” for sir) have peculiar usage. “Wuffuh you duh do dat?” What for, or why are you doing that? “Him gone duh ribbuh,” he has gone to the river. “Him walk duh paat’,” he walks in the path (orthe road). So, too, “’e duh sleep” for he does sleep, or he sleeps; and “duh wintuh time” for in the winter or during the winter. “Nuh” is another oddity, “me nuh him” being he and I.
Many years ago, the Reverend Kinlaw, upon hearing an educated darkey reading aloud one of the Kinlaw sermons from a newspaper, exclaimed: “Uh ’cla’ to Gawd da’ buckruh do me too bad! Dem t’ing suh him suh suh me susso, me nubbuh susso. Me t’ink’um, aw, but uh nubbuh susso, en’ how de debble him know suh me t’ink’um, w’en uh nubbuh susso?” Which, interpreted, means: “I declare that buckra did me too bad. Those things that he said I said, I never said so. I thought them, it is true, but I never said them, and how did he know that I thought them, when I never said them?” Kinlaw was an extremely uncouth creature and his Gullah was of the rankest, spoken with the hot-potato-in-the-mouth effect of the low-comedy stage Irishman, hence his use of “suh” for that as well as for said, and of “nubbuh” for never, instead of the usual “nebbuh.”
“Aw,” for true, or to be sure, is seldom used.
“Ki,” rarely “kwi,” or “kwoy,” is an exclamation.
“Nyam,” or “nyam-nyam,” means to eat.
“Bittle,” is, of course, victuals—food.
“Blan,” pronounced with the nasal resonance of the French “blanc,” but without the broad “a” sound, or as the French would pronounce “blin,” is probably a corruption of belong, and means used to or accustomed to.
“Study” means to think, ponder, plan.
The Gullah, like the Queen of Spain, has no legs, “foot” serving for the lower limbs as well as for their extremities. “Deer hab long foot, him run fas’;” “Cootuh hab shawt foot, him trabble slow.”
“Yez” is ear or ears, and “yeddy,” sometimes “yerry,” is hear, or hearing, heard; while “haa’kee” (hark ye) is also hear, and so on, whether addressed to one or to more persons, and is used not only in admonition, as “haa’kee at me good fashi’n,” but is sometimes spoken lightly, as certain modern flappers and their bifurcated companions say “listen!” “Haa’kee” also does duty interchangeably for “yeddy,” as“haa’kee att’um,” “yeddy’um”—hearken to him! hear him! And one who holds a warning as of small account, will often say in response to an admonitory “haa’kee!” “Yaas, bubbuh, uh haa’kee, but uh yent yeddy”—literally, I hearken but I don’t hear, while actually meaning I hear but I don’t heed, going in one ear and coming out of the other.
“’Nuf” means not only enough, sufficiency, but more often abundance. Thus “you hab enny mint?” “Yaas, suh, we hab ’nuf,” carries assurance of not merely enough for a few juleps, but a patch of fragrant greenery that could cover the graves of a score of old-school Virginians!
“Specify,” one of the most characteristic Gullah words, from the English “specify,” serves for most of the varied meanings of “specifications”—“making good.” If a woman proves an unsuitable mate, she “cyan’ specify.” If trousers are frail, and “de britchiz buss’,” “’e yent specify.” If a “cunnoo” proves unseaworthy—“him cyan’ specify.” And even of a Bible text, the fulfilment of whose promise seems inadequate, the Gullah says: “Buhrabbus’ wu’d, him ent specify berry well.”
“Enty,” “ent,” “yent,” sometimes “ain’,” serve for isn’t, aren’t, didn’t, don’t, doesn’t. “Ent you shum?” “enty you shum?” may mean didn’t you see? or don’t you see? him, her, it, or them.
Preceded by a soft vowel sound, “iz” and “ent” are changed to “yiz” and “yent;” as: “him iz,” “him ent,” become, by the substitution of “’e” for him, “’e yiz,” “’e yent.
“’Cep’n’” is except or excepting, and so is “’scusin’” or “excusin’.”
There is no nephew in the Gullah vocabulary, “niece” being used instead.
“Wunnuh,” “yunnuh,” “oonuh,” “unnuh,” occasionally “hoonuh,” probably from one and another, is used for you and ye, usually in addressing more than one, though sometimes also in the singular.
Except along the Georgia and Carolina seacoast and the outlying islands, the older Negroes are almost invariably addressed as “uncle” and “auntie” by the whites of all ages, and by the younger Negroes, but, wherever the Gullah dialectpredominates, “daddy” and “mauma” take their places. For that reason, perhaps, white children in the low-country never call their fathers “daddy,” pa or papa frequently taking the place of the more formal “father.”
Where the name of the person addressed or spoken of is used, “mauma” is changed to “maum,” as “Maum Kate.”
The simple name of the month is seldom sufficient, but must be fortified by the addition of “munt’,” as: “Uh hab da’ gal een June munt’.”
Second, third, etc., are seldom used, the preferred forms being “two-time,” “t’ree-time,” etc. “Uh done tell oonuh fuh de two-time fuh lef’ da’ gal ’lone”—I’ve told you for the second time to leave that girl alone; and “two-time” is invariably used for twice. “Uh done call you two-time”—I’ve called you twice. The third Tuesday in August would be “De t’ree Chuesday een Augus’.”
“Onrabble ’e mout’”—unravel her mouth, for it’s always a feminine skein that’s to be unwound—is as comprehensive as it is picturesque. At times the verbal tide flows on unchecked from a full ball of yarn; again, the ravelings are pulled angrily, jerkily, from the warp of a threadbare subject. “Onrabble ’e mout’!”
“Lef’”—left—is given not only its own proper meaning, but serves for leave, leaving, as “loss” does extra duty for lose, losing, lost.
“She-she talk”—a contemptuous characterization by Gullah bucks of feminine gossip—is suggestive of the whisperingfrou-frouof silken petticoats.
“En’ t’ing’”—and things—is a verbal grab-bag comprehensive enough to hold every etcetera, animate or inanimate, that one may lay tongue to. A woman’s “chillun en’ t’ing’” may cover her chickens as well as her children; her “husbun’ en’ t’ing’” may include also her gentlemen friends, while reference to King Solomon’s “wife en’ t’ing’” would assuredly have lumped in with his wives every petticoat on the “Proverbial” premises!
The Gullah contraction of defend, is “’fen’,” yet, if that defense be inadequate, he will invariably “refen’” himself. If he anoint, ’tis “’n’int,” yet his pastor is the Lord’s “renointed.”
As the Gullah’s tongue has no trouble with “eart’”—his correctly pronounced contraction of “earth”—he should have no difficulty with dirt or shirt, but these are invariably pronounced “du’t” and “shu’t;” and, although the “uh” sound is so easily uttered, he always “shets” a door, and tries to “shet,” but never shuts, his lady’s mouth.
Among the Negroes on Pon Pon, Stepney—a man’s name—is commonly used as a synonym for hunger, want. He who hoped to keep the wolf away would “haffuh wu’k haa’d fuh keep Stepney frum de do’,” while the fabled ant would admonishLa Cigale, the grasshopper, “tek care, gal, you duh sing duh summuhtime, tek care Stepney don’ come een yo’ house ’fo’ wintuhtime!”
There are, of course, many variations, some Negroes using only a few Gullah words, while practically all the house servants spoke without a taint. During the Confederate War, Phyllis, a highly trained young maid who had been taught deportment under Maum Bella, a fine old family servant in Charleston, once “impeached” the language of the five-year old boy under her charge. “Mass——, you shouldn’t say path, you should say parth.” How a broad “a” got loose in Charleston one can’t imagine, unless it came in with the buxom Virginia girls who periodically descended upon “the City” to marry her most eligible young men.
The Gullah grabs his prophets, his kings, and his apostles out of the Old and New Testaments, haphazard, and uses them as they come, “to point a moral or adorn a tale”—and he believes in elaborate adornment.
Himself unlettered, he catches the names as they come to his ears from the lips of the whites, or of educated Negroes, and frequently gets his personnel inextricably mixed, the mouth-filling “Nickuhdemus” being quite as frequently turned out to graze, “bite grass,” as the esteemed “Nebuhkuhnezzuh.” The Apostle Paul is most often quoted by the class-leaders and local preachers, but they love to mouth over “Buhrabbus,” while entirely ignorant of the character.
What Old Testament book can it be that the Gullah calls “Rebus?” Perhaps some Bible student will hazard a guess. It may be a far-fetched corruption of Genesis, for, in givingassurance of his having pursued a subject or an investigation from beginning to end, he will often say: “Uh bin t’ru da’ t’ing frum Rebusspangto Rebelashun!”
Edisto Island was, before the war, through the fine Sea Island cotton produced there, one of the garden spots of the earth, and has been for many generations noted for the hospitality, culture, and refinement of its families; but in old times it was also noted for an unusual provincialism and for the habitual use of Gullah dialect by many of the planters’ young sons. These were in constant association with their slaves on hunting and fishing parties, and unconsciously adopted the highly picturesque and expressive speech of their black servitors. They were accordingly subjected to many hard stories by their neighbors on the main land, who declared that, when the tardy news of Napoleon’s exile to St. Helena, one hundred years ago, reached Edisto, the young islanders, believing their neighboring island of St. Helena to be the place of safekeeping, were apprehensive of another “return from Elba,” and, fearing the great Corsican as a potential liberator of their precious slaves, held an indignation meeting and resolved that: “Ef dem buckruh’ ’pantap Sa’leenuh choose fuh hab ’Poleon come ’pantapdemilun’, berry well, but, uh sway-to-Gawd, him cyan’ come ’pantapdisilun’, ’cause dat duh dainjus buckruh, en’, fus’ t’ing wunnuh know, him set we Nigguh’ free.”
The Edisto marshes abounded in wild donkeys, and a favorite Sunday amusement used to be the chevying of these unhappy animals out of the marshes by the white and black boys who, using sections of jackvine for whips, chased them over the plantations. A story is told of a young Edisto Islander who, a few days after matriculation at the University of Virginia, was requested by his fellow students to tell them something about the favorite sports and amusements of the South Carolina coast. He enlightened them as follows: “Great King wunnuh boy! Me nuh Cudjo blan hab fun duh Sunday. Cudjo him ketch long tail’ hawss, me ketch shawt tail’ hawss; we tek dem jack-wine, run dem jackass out’uh maa’sh, run’um all obuh plantesshun; den we blan go duh crik, ketch dembigpap-eye mullet!”