As an adolescent, I was raised on a farm where we did mixed-farming. We planted and harvested cotton, sweet potatoes, corn and other crops.
Not too far from the bayou, not a full-fledged bayou like farther south in La., but rather a large drainage canal. (In Cajun we called it “la grande coulée.” It finally was named “bayou boudreux” or “bourdeux”, I need to go back and check the name on the bridge’s corner stone that crosses it. I haven’t gone there since 1985 or so.)
Anyway, while working side-by-side with my parents in the fields I would notice a particular bush, growing wild, with long narrow leaves and pods that contained beans.Â
I asked my dad what those bushes were called and he said they were “du café sauvage.” Now I knew what those two words meant, coffee and wild, or savage. The beans reminded me of coffee beans somewhat, I didn’t know then that coffee beans didn’t grow in that fashion.  (Cajuns in my family called native Indians sometimes as “les sauvages” or in English “the savages.” Of course I also heard them use “les Indiens.”) As I progressed in my elementary schooling the “indigo plant” was discussed and it’s usage for making purple dye. So, what bearing does that have on “café sauvage?”Â
Well in SF the “indigo” color is called “l’indigo, le bleu indigo or l’indigo sauvage.” See at where I getting?
Yes to us it no doubt reminded us of coffee beans so the name of the “l’indigo sauvage” became “le café sauvage.”Â
There are different types of indigo plants in the world, but the wild indigo is the one that I am familiar with.
Here is another plant in SF that is named differently in Cajun: The SF word for “eggplant” is “l’aubergine,” however, in Cajun it is more often called ”la brème”. “La brème stands for both the fruit and the plant.”
“Ma grand-mère aimait préparer des brèmes, frit comme on frit du poisson, roulé dans la farine d’maïs, bien assaisonné.” (My grandmother liked to prepare eggplants fried like one would fry fish, rolled in corn meal and well seasoned.)
Another plant for which Cajuns have a different name is the “squash.” I always heard them called “le cacha” or “la ciblème.” In SF I see where it is called “la courge.”
“La ciblème” to us was the scalloped squash. Where “le cacha” was the bigger necked-squash. I believe that my mother use to make some form of squash bread with “les ciblèmes.”
“On avait l’habitude de planter toutes sortes de cachas et de ciblèmes.“ (We were in the habit of planting all kinds of squashes and scalloped squashes.)
“Mom faisait du pain d’ciblèmes dans la même manière qu’é faisait (fit) du pain d’patates douces.” (My mother would make squash-bread in the same way that she made sweet-potato bread.)
“On faisait des joues avec les cachas (long-necked squash or Indian squash) dans la même manière qu’on faisait avec des calebasses.” (We would play with squashes in the same manner that we did with gourds.) We would make all kinds of things with the gourds. (”la calebasse” in Cajun is also used for head or skull.)Â
“Tu vas tomber, et casser ta calebasse mon cher après grimper (grucher) au fait de la maison comme ça-là !” (You will fall and break or crack your skull my dear, climbing (scaling) to the top of the house, like that!)
The two verbs “grimper” and “grucher” have a meaning of “scaling” or “climbing” perhaps like a cat would up a tree etc. Now the verb “monter” has a meaning of climbing, but also to arise etc.Â
J’ai monté mon ch’val équand j’étais jeune par moyen de grimper la porte de la barrièr du parc.” (I mounted my horse when I was young by scaling the barnyard’s gate.”)
L’eau a monté assez haute qu’alle a rentré dans not(re) maison pendant le déluge de dix-neuf cents quarante et un (1941). (The water rose (mounted) so high during the flood of 1941 that it entered into our house.) (note for enter: SF “entrer” where as in Cajun it is more popularly used as “rentrer”.)
“Les marchands ont monté (augmenté*) (augmenter inf.)le prix de leurs marchandises dernièrement.” (The merchants have raised the price of their merchandise lately.) (The verb to augment was also used frequently in our Cajun conversations.)
Remember “la répétition est la mère de la rétention,” so if I repeat certain Cajun words or phrases it will enable you to perhaps retain them.
À plus tard.
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Cajuns use French words that have slightly different meanings in SF or the words have a nuance of the original.
As I discussed before certain harsh, perhaps even vulgar words, like “foutre” were assimilated into the Cajun language with a non-vulgarity, yet retaining a certain nuance that is not viewed as vulgar by Cajuns.
Remember “J’vas te fout(re) par terre” to Cajuns simply mean “I will throw you down.” Though not vulgar it does carry the thought of toughness. My grandparents would never have used that verb had it had a vulgarity attached to it. Strong language, yes, but not vulgar.
“Fous ton camp d’ici!” meant to us children, to haul out of here. We never did attach a vulgarity to it, neither did our elders, but it did carry the thought of urgently doing it!
That is one example of how Cajuns, no doubt, through usage over the years, take certain words out of one arena of meaning and put it into another, though retaining some of its strength.
Here is another word, verb in SF “arracher.” Now in SF it seems to carry the thought of “to uproot, pull up, etc.” Now in Cajun it does mean that, but we used it with a slightly milder connotation.
“Ain arracheur de dents” is known as a dentist to some Cajuns, due to the “uprooting of teeth” that he does. (The saying goes, “menteur comme ain arracheur de dents,” liar like a dentist or tooth puller. Why? Because he says ‘it will not hurt’ and it does!
E.g. of “arracher” in Cajun: “Y faut arraché les mauvaises herbs dans le jardin avant qu’y vont étouffer les légumes.” (It is necessary to uproot the weeds in the garden before they will choke out the vegetables.) Now that is a meaning that takes on drastic action.
However, in everyday conversations I heard it used in not so much of a drastic action, yet maintaining some of its nuance.
“Ti fait mieux de t’arracher d’ici avant que ton père se revienne.*” (You had better pull yourself out of here before your father returns.) Yes, it is rough language, that meant do it or else suffer the consequences, but it did not literally mean to “uproot” oneself.Â
(*”Revenir” to return in the subjective third person is “revienne,” however, in the Cajun talk of our family you simply heard “revien.” (whenever “que” is used the subjunctive is used in SF.) The last “n” and “e” were dropped. That is why at times I have a hard time using the proper conjugation. I spell it they way it sounded to me in our conversations.
Also, we pronounced “revenir” at times as “ervenir.” As I stated before that is a unique Cajun way of pronouning at times the “re” verbs. (the generic French “e” is sounded with a “r.” It sounds more like “urr.” To add to it most often than not the second “e” was dropped. So we sounded it out as “erv’nir.” (urrv-neer)
Mais, cher, ça c’est une affaire, oui, pour être capable de parler le Cajun! (But, dear, that is a thing (matter, business etc.) to be able to speak the Cajun (language).)
When I heard the verb used or when I would use it as above, it simply meant to ‘get out’ perhaps with an exclamation mark.
Here is another way Cajuns have changed or added meaning to words:
The SF word “filou” is a “pickpocket,” however, in Cajun we never used “filou” as such. Generally the English word was used or we translated the word in a literal way, “pilleur de poches,” which means a “pillager of pockets.” Now in SF it takes on the meaning of a ’scamp, a rascal, a crook, a sneak etc.” So in Cajun we do maintain some of its SF meanings.
A person that is “sharp (sharp trader), cunning, shrewd or crooked” in Cajun is said to be “filou.”
The noun associated with “filou” is “filouterie (f).” That is in Cajun. So it is used for “thievery, trickery or cheating.” I do not see where it is used in that manner in SF.
“Ça, c’est filou, oui!” (That, person is cunning, yes!) “Dans le monde aujourd’hui, il y’a ain tas du monde qui sont bien filou dans leurs affaires pour gagner l’argent.” (In today’s world there are many people who are very shrewd in their business of making money.)
“La filouterie de cet homme a revenu* pour le visiter.” (The trickery of this man came back to haunt him.) *(urrv-nu)
In SF the noun “la fourberie” is used for “the guile or deception.” I have never heard it used in Cajun. In Cajun we would use “la ruse,” “la filouterie” or “la tromperie.”Â
So anyway you look at it, it is cunning!
So Cajuns have their own words, or keep a certain meaning of the original SF word in their conversations. This is what makes Cajun a unique language just like all other languages of mankind.
With the waning of the use of the language, however, much is being lost.
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As I no doubt wrote before in my posts, at times I would hear expressions made by my parents and elders in Cajun but they were heard but not fully understood. Yet, I would repeat them.
Take for an example the saying that was heard a lot in my family circle, “comme deux et deux fait quatre.” Remember the “re” at the end of “quatre” was always dropped. So it sounded like “quat.”Â
Literally that is an analogy perhaps meaning “like two and two makes four.” Now, how was it used? It was used to make a statement that something would happen if this and that were done or not done. Just as certain as “two and two makes four.”
“Hé mon enfant, si ti* traînerais les chemins avec cette compagnie, comme deux et deux fait quatre, ti vas te trouvé dans du tracas. (If you were to roam the roads with this company (assoiciates), like two and two makes four, you will find yourself in some trouble.)
*Remember that “ti” is used as often as “tu” for the second person in Cajun.
I would hear that expression as perhaps two words, “comme deuxetdeuxfaitquat(re).” I did not realize the analogy being made, just that it was an expression used as a warning.
Comme deux et deux fait quatre, cher, tu vas te faire du mal après jouer avec ces fatras là . (As sure as two and two equals four, my dear, you will hurt yourself playing with those trashy things.)
Here is another one. “Après déchirer le gingat.” Now “le gingat” in Cajun is “ginham” material. However, I heard used the word “gingat” more often applied to a type of chicken.
The literal meaning of “après déchirer le gingat” means to tear up the “gingham.” So it was used to exaggerate or stretch the truth in Cajun. However, to me, not knowing that “gingat” was also “gingham” and not only a type of chicken, I thought they were literally speaking about “tearing up the gingat chicken.”
Later on as I studied French and Cajun I realized that it was just a cajunism meaning to stretch the truth.Â
Another Cajunism that finally came to the light later on in my life was “vas brasser dans tes chaudières et pas dans leurs.”Â
Literally that meant to stir in your own pots and not that of others. If one did that he was a busybody. We have our own problems or pots to stir, so keep away from others.
So, I had to take it to be symbolic and not literal. I could just see as a child stirring in someone else’s pot!
Ma grand-mère a dit à sa belle-fille de pas aller brasser dans les chaudières de ses amies, (My grandmother told her daughter-in-law not to go and stick her nose in her friends affairs.) Cajuns use “belle-fille” for both stepdaughter or daughter-in-law.
“Comme deux et deux fait quatre, si une personne irait brasser dans les chaudières d’une autre personne, (é or y) va faire des ennemis pour sûr. (As two plus two equals (makes) four, if a person would go and stir into the pots of another person, he or she will make enemies for sure.)
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When I hear the verb or form of the verb “jurer” in French I apply only one meaning to it not like SF.
In SF “jurer” can mean how Cajuns see it, but it takes on another slant, that is to vow, pledge or swear to.Â
In Cajun, I always heard “jurer” used to mean to “curse” or to give one a stiff tongue lashing, usually using obscenities.
We were always careful not to use swear or curse words in our speech, especially in front of our elders!
Y faut jamais jurer en publique. (One must never curse in public.)
To make an oath, generally I heard “faire un voeu.” That is to say, to make a vow, pledge etc. To make a promise we used the the verb “promettre.” I never heard it used like SF “jurer.”
“Serment” (noun) was used also for “a swear or a promise.” Alle a fait un serment de revenir pendant l’hiver qui vient. (She made a promise to return during next winter.)
J’vas te promettre que ton argent va être repayé. (I will promise you that your money will be repaid you.) Or, J’te fais une promesse que ton argent va être repayé. Or, J’te promets que ton argent sera repayé en tous. (I make you a promise that your money will be repayed. I promise that your money will be repayed in full.)
Of course, again, the locale determines the usages of the above variants.
When one took upon himself a vow, the noun “voeu” was used. La femme a fait un voeu de jamais se remarier après son mari mourut. (The women (wife) made a vow to never remarry after her husband died.)
Le tit garçon a juré devant sa grand-mêre, mais avec une mauvaise conséquence après ça. (The little boy cursed in front of his grandmother, but with a bad consequence after that.)
Le vieux homme a voué de laisser tous son bien après qu’il mourra, à son tit enfant. (The old gentleman pledged to leave all his estate after he would die to his grandchild.)
So if you were to use “jurer” in the presence of most Cajuns, they would no doubt take it to mean “to curse.” Of course, in religious circles some would understand the SF meaning of the verb to mean “to swear etc.”
Another verb in SF “maudire” which means to curse or to damn, though used some by Cajuns, the adjective derived from it “maudit” takes on the meaning of “being bad, evil etc.” In SF it seems to lean more to the “cursed, damned etc.”
“Ça c’est un maudit chien, oui!” (That is a mean, very bad dog!) The Cajun dictionary uses as an e.g. “Ah mon maudit” (Oh you devil!)Â
So if you hear Cajuns use the adjective “maudit” they are describing a “wretched, evil, very bad person or animal.”
“Maudit va!” Was heard a lot in my family circle. There again it was an expression directed toward someone or an animal indicating an adverse feeling toward “wretchedness, evilness etc.”
Voilà ain autre tit brin!
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J’crois que j’avais allentour de onze ou douze ans équand cette histoire a pris place.
Comme presque tous le jeune monde, j’avais une grande imagination équand y fallait aller faire des joues. On avait pas des bébelles, alors, c’etait nécessaire pour inventer des joues. Beaucoup des fois on appelait cettes inventions “allons faire accroire.” Ça, ça veut dire en Anglais, “let us make believe.”
Ah bien, pendant une belle journée, j’ai trouvé ain tit caine de pulules (pilules) dans un tas de fatras, en couleur rouge. L’idée ma frappé de jouer le docteur. Si je me trompe pas, les pulules etaient des pulules pour traiter le foie, connu comme “Carter’s Little Liver Pills.” Presque tous avait cette médecine dans leur meuble à médecine.
Mais, gardez là , quoi c’est que j’pouvais (puisse) usé pour mes malades? En regardant allentour, j’ai vu des gros poulets renfermé dans une cage, ayeou ma mère les a mit pour une élan pour nettoyer leurs systèmes avant de les tuer comme viande.Â
Voilà mes malades! Y faut que j’les traite, pour les guérir! J’ai pris les pulules dans le tit caine et j’les ai donné à les poulets. Dans mon esprit, comme un jeune, c’est comme ça que ma mère m’a traité équand moi j’étais malade.
Mais, sans avoir de connaîssance de la médecine et son effet sur des poulets, vous-autres peut venir à une conclusion, quoi c’est qu’a arrivé après les poulets les ont envalé. Oui, ils ont tous crevé!
Plutôt de dire à ma mère quoi c’est qu’avait tué ses poulets, j’ai été me caché. Équand mom m’a demandé si je connaissais quoi qu’avait pris place, j’ai simplement dis “mais, non, mom.”
L’histoire de les poulets crevé a continué d’étre un mystère jusqu’a j’avait frappé allentour de quarante-cinq ans. Ma mère a venu passé quel ques (keck) jours avec nous-autres, et le sujet des poulets crevé, s’a enlevé. J’m'ai pas caché là , j’ai confessé mon crime et soulagé mon âme!
On a fait des farce de ça, mais le jour équand j’ai joué docteur, j’avais pas l’envie de rire là !Â
Une leçon appris, j’ai jamais joué docteur encore en usant des poulets pour mes malades! La Fin
I wrote this with no translation. Try to do the translation. I will come back later and translate the story. Merci.
English translation:
I believe that I had around eleven or twelve years old when this account took place.
Like, almost, every young person, I had a large imagination when it became necessary to go and make games. We did not have toys, therefore, it was necessary to invent some games. Many times we called this invention “let us make believe.”
Well, during a beautiful day, I found a little can of pills in a trash pile, being in the color of red. The idea hit me to play doctor. If I am not in error, the piles were ones to treat the live, known as “Carter’s Little Liver Pills.” Almost every one had this medicine in their medicine cabinet.
But, look here, what I found to use as my patients? In looking around, I saw some big poulets engaged where my mother had put them for a while to clean out their systems before we could slaughter them and used for meat.
See there, my sick ones (patients). I have to treat them to heal them! In my mind, as a youngster, that is the way that my mother treated me when I was sick.
But, without having knowledge of the medicine and its effect on the poulets (young chickens), you can come to a conclusion as to what happened after the poulets swallowed them. Yes, they all died. (Crever is used to express the death of an animal, mourir for the death of a human)Â
Rather than telling my mother what happened to her poulets, I went and hid myself. When mom asked of me if I knew what had happened I simply said “but, no, mom.”
The account of the poulets that died continued to be a mystery, until I reached (hit) (attraper could be used here in Cajun also) about forty-five years of age. My mother came and spent (passed) a few days with us, and the subject of the poulets arose itself. I did not hide at this time, I confessed my crime and gave solace to my soul.
We made some jokes about that, but I never played doctor again in using some poulets for my patients (sick ones)!
As I promised to write a translation, there it is. How did you do with your translation?
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I will conjugate the French verb “être” (to be) into the Cajun language so you who know Standard French Conjugations, please remember that we do it at times differently.
Verb: être (to be)
J’sus (I am) J’sus très fatiqué aujourd’hui à cause d’avoir travaillé aussi dur. (I am very tired today due to having worked so hard.) In more formal conversation you may hear, Je suis or J’suis. More often though, J’sus is employed.
T’es (thou art) Ti is used just as often as Tu. However, you do not notice it when using “être” (ti es) because the “i” is elided or not pronounced. Only when the “i” is followed by a consonant can you hear the difference.
Ti veut aller avec eux mon cher? (Do you want to go with them dear?) Tu m’a pas dis rien hier à l’égard de la visit de ta mère d’aujourd’hui! (You did not tell me anything yesterday with regard to your mother’s visit of today!)
Il, elle est (he, she is).  Remember that Cajuns have different ways to pronounce these two pronouns. Il (he) is most often pronounce (y) before a word that begins with a consonant.
Il est parti pour se reposer. (He is going to rest himself. ) In front of a vowel (il) is generally used. Il est parti se promener. (He is going for a stroll, a visit etc.) Why? Due to the rule of euphony (agreeableness in sound.) It sounds incorrect to me to say (y est, the l is needed. Like ‘an apple, not a apple.’
Elle (she) has a variety of pronunciations. Before a vowel it is pronounced (elle, or alle). Alle est après se préparer pour aller visiter sa fille. (She is preparing herself to go and visit her daughter.) Here (elle) is used as well. Before a consonant we use é, elle, or a.Â
 É va ôter la courtepointe sur son lit asteur. (She will remove the bedspread off of her bed now.) A or elle could be used here. It depends upon the locale as to which form of (elle) is used.
Nous in SF is used for “we.” However, in Cajun informal talk that is seldomly heard. We use “nous-autres.”
Nous-autres in the nominative is generally followed with “on est, etc.” Though it stands for “we” plural, it is treated as a singular.Â
Nous-autres, on est après mettre à  coté de quoi pour le pauvre monde. (We are putting aside something for the poor people.) When used in the objective it remains “nous-autres” in most cases. “Donnez donc voir quel ques (pronounced ‘keck) melons français à nous-autres.” (Please give us a few canteloupes.)
For “we” Cajuns use “on” also. On est malade parce que on s’a pas soigné.  (We are sick because we did not take care of ourselves.)  As is true for “nous-autres” “on” is always singular.
Of course “on” can also be used for “they,” “it,” “one.” On est pas sûr d’avoir été invité à la noce du voisin, c’est pour ça qu’on est manière hésitant d’aller sans une invitation formele. (They are not sure to have been invited to the neighbor’s wedding, that is why they are hesitant to attend without a formal invitation.)
C’est ça qu’on dit. (That is what they say.)  On est pas contend quand le temps est vilain, parce qu’y faut qu’on rest dans la maison. (We are not happy when the weather is ugly because we must stay in the house.)
On va tombé plate par terre avec des gros souliers! (One will fall flat on his face with big shoes!)
Vous in SF is used for “you, plural, or for showing respect to an older person or stranger.” In Cajun that is the case when showing respect, but when speaking about the plural (YOU) we like to use “vous-autres” for the nominative.  Remember it is also singular.
Vous-autres est tous trempe mes enfants, entrez ici dans! (YOU are all wet, my children, come in here!Â
Vous-autres est prés d’avoir des cors sur vos pieds à cause d’apporter vos souliers tros serré. (You are near to having some corns on your feet due to wearing shoes that are too tight.)
In more formal conversation you could hear “vous êtes” as in SF. Vous êtes très bien habillé, Corine, ça vous convient, oui. (You are very well dressed, Corine, it suits you, yes.) In fact in all conversations we were taught to use “vous êtes” when speaking of one person, that is much older than you are, for respect.Â
J’vas vous acheter diner demain à la nouvelle restaurant (estaura) en Rayne. (I will buy (you, either singular or plural) dinner at the new restaurant in Rayne tomorrow.) Or-J’vas acheter diner pour vous-autres demain…here using the popular use of YOU. (Here in the objective we use “vous” for one person and “vous autres” for more than one.)
Now for the plural “they” (ils, elles) we depart from the SF at times. Generally “Y” is used for both masculine or feminine “they.”Â
Y sont après aller chercher leurs enfants qui sont à l’école. (They are going to get their children who are at school.)
Y sont pas ici aujourd’hui. (They are not here today.) Again “y” is used for both masculine and feminine “they.”
Very seldomly did I hear the plural they “feminine” “elles” used in my locale. We would generally identify the subject. Les femmes, y sont après piqué à l’ail les daubes. (The women, they are stuffing the roasts with garlic.) Most often then not where I came from we used the “masculine” “they” for “feminine” as well.
Y veulent parler avec nous-autres avant qu’on partira. “They (feminine) want to speak to us before we leave.” I am not saying that “elles” was not used in some areas, but seldomly heard in my community.
I will continue to edit this post so if you see changes, that is the reason. No doubt I am repeating information already presented, but remember “repetiton is the mother of retention.”
When my Dad or others went out to milk the cows there was a saying that stayed with me as something very unique.
A milk cow at times did not want to cow-tow when she was being milked. So the expression “coto cailette” was called out to her to make her stand still so she could be milked.
To “coto” in Cajun means to “meekly knuckle under to someone else’s will.” So if the cow didn’t stand still then she was told to “coto cailette!” Why “cailette?” That was a favorite name given to a milk cow in Cajun.  Perhaps it came from the color “caille” which is a spotted color or striped one.
“La vache à lait voulait pas se “coto” pour se fair tirer, alors, il a fallut de mettre des menottes sur ses jambres d’en arrière.” The milk cow did not want to submit to being milked so it was necessary to put shackles on her back legs.
“Menotte” was a word one of my uncles used a lot. However, I always thought he said “monacle.” I am sure a lot of us pronounced it that way also. The handcuffs were called “menottes” (monacles).
Here’s another little tidbit (tit morceau) that was used to mean to be lazy. Now “la paress” means laziness. “Le paresseaux or la paresseuse” stands for one that is lazy in masculine and feminine.  Â
However, to “avoir les côtes en long” or literally to “have the ribs or sides in a side position” means “to be lazy.” One would be in a supine position, therefore, lazing around.
“Le vieux homme a les côtes en long, en fin, son lit est jamais fait.” The old man is so lazy that he never has his bed made.
In Cajun when we bolt ourselves inside or out of a building we use the verb “barrer or loquer.” A SF verb never heard by me was “verrouiller.” This word is used “to latch.”
“Jacques va donc loquer les portes du char avant que la nuit se fait.” James please go and lock the car doors before night falls. Remember in Cajun we use the word “donc” and “voir” to say please as well as “s’il vous plait.” “Donc” in SF means “then, thus. therefore etc. “Voir” is the verb to see.Â
“Mon, garçon, va donc voir donner ta pauvre grand-mère la main avec ses groceries.” Me lad, please go and see about giving your grandmother a hand with her grocieries.
“Hé, mon p’tit t’as ti barré la porte avant de quitter la maison?” Hey, my child have you locked the front door before leaving the house.? (Remember “ti” can stand for “really?” “Ti-bien” can mean to “hope not” or “ever.”) Using “ti” could express doubt in the mind of the speaker. “Ti-bien” leaves a question with disbelief.)
“Il est ti parti?” Is he really (?) gone? “Il est ti-bien malade.” Is he (I hope not) sick. “Il va ti-bien jamais donner manger à ses chiens?” Will he ever feed his dogs?
Interesting isn’t it?Â
Here’s another interesting Cajun verb. In English we “hypnotize” people. In Cajun we use the verb to “magnatiser” for to “hypnotize.”   It can also mean to “mesmerize.”
“Le “magnatiseur” a pas réussi dans sa capacité.” The hpnotist did not have success in his ability.
J’vas fermé ma post pour asteur. J’vas peut-être l’augmenter ou l”agrandir plus tard.Â
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In Cajun we have two words that are used expressing the meaning “to whittle,” or to “shapen.” “Chacoter” and “chicoter” are the two unique words. “Tailler” is used as in SF, but with a little different twist. In Cajun “tailler” can mean “to carve,” “to cut,” ”to prune.” However, we take it to another sense of “to whip.” I’ll get back to “chacoter” and “chicoter” shortly.
“La modiste a usé une paire de ciseaux pas bien affilé, a cause de ça, son* étoffe été coupé mal-égal. (*though the generic for cloth is feminine, we always used the masculine possessive. In French certain materials are seen as masculine. E.g. “l’étoffe de laine” “twilled cloth” or “wool” is a masculine.
Translation:Â The seamstress used a pair of dull scissors, therefore, her material was not cut evenly.
“Ma mère m’a bien taillé équand é s’a aperçu quoi j’ai fait avec son gâteau, qu’alle avait mis à coté pour sa compagnie.” My mother gave me a good whipping when she discovered (realized) what I had done with her cake that she had put aside for her company.
“Mon grand-père m’a taillé un manifique tit ch’val avec un morceau de bois de chêne quand j’avais seulement cinq-ans d’âge.” J’l'ai toujours en possession, situé sur la corniche de la chimnée.” My grandfather carved me a magnificent little horse carved with a piece of oak, when I had (was) only five years old. I still have it in my possession situated on the mantel of the fire place.Â
“Le jardinier m’a montré comment tailler mes rosiers, dans une telle manière, q’y vont fleurir abondamment (un tas) pendant le printemps.” The gardener showed me how to prune my rose bushes in such a manner (way) that they will bloom abundantly during spring.
“Il y’a des arbres qu’ont besoin d’être tailler chaque année qu’y puissent (peuvent) profiter comme y faut.” There are some trees that need to be pruned each year (yearly) so that they can grow as they should.
Now back to “chacoter” and “chicoter.”Â
“Mon grand-grand père a passé les derniers jours de sa vie assied sous un grand arbre en avant de la maison de sa fille après chacoter des morceaux d’bois. Ma mère m’a raconté qu’y prenait ses repas là aussi.  C’était elle qui s’inquiétait de l’donner à manger.”  My great grandfather passed the last days of his life sitting under a large tree in his daughter’s yard, carving on pieces of wood. My mother related that he would take his meals there also. It was she who looked after giving him his food.
“Ça prendre en tas de talent et un tas de temps pour chicoter une chaîne en usant un seul morceau de bois.” It takes a lot of talent and time to carve a chain using only one piece of wood.
Another verb that is used, “écorcher,” which means to skin, debark, etc., would be the first action taken on a piece of wood with the bark still on it.
“Le bois usé par les chacoteurs a besoin d’êt(re) “ecorché” avant de commencer a l’chacoter.” Au même temps, il faut prendre garde de pas “s’écorcher” quand une personne “chicote” un morceau de bois.” The wood used by carvers need to be “debarked” before starting to carve it. At the same time it is necessary for a person to take care not to skin himself when he carves the wood.
Another verb that is used quite often by Cajuns is “picocher” which carries the meaning of to peck, (as a bird or chicken), to nag, to pick at or to tease.
La poule a picohé mes orteils équand j’ai été pour la donner son maïs.” The hen pecked my toes when I went to give her some corn.
“C’est pas vaillant de picocher une et l’autre.” It is not nice to pick on one another.
“Quand une femme picoche son mari de tros, il aimrait mieux d’être tout seul dans le milieu d’un marais(vivier).” When a wife picks on her husband too much he would like it better to be all alone in the middle of a pond.
Here’s another verb that Cajuns for which they have two differnt spellings, meaning the same thing.
“Crochir” and “gauchir.” I always heard “crochir.”  It carries the meaning of “to warp or bend.”
“Les brancards de mes lunettes ont été ”crochi” quant j’les échappé sur le plancher de la cuisine.” The handlebars of my eye glasses were warped when I dropped them on the kitchen floor.
Another verb “cobir” is often used, but generally if something has a dent in it after a striking accident.
“Si on est dans un accident de char on peut être sûr de “cobir” une partie du char.” If we are in a car accident we can be sure that a part of the car will have dents.
“Il a “cobi” le garde-boue sur son baicique équand il a abordé le coin de la maison.” He dented the fender of his bicycle when he collided with the corner of the house.
“Accrocher” means to hook-up having (crochet as the noun). J’m'ai accroché sur le fil à piquant quand j’l'ai traversé.” I hooked myself on the barbed-wire fence when I crossed it.
“Chaque maison avait des crochets sur des portes pour accrocher nos capeux pendant l’hiver.” Every house had hooks on the doors to hook-up our coats during the winter.
Another unique usuage of “accrocher” is “to tangle with someone.”
“Les deux tits bougres “s’accrochent” chaque fois qu’y se recontrent à cause de’l mauvais sang entre eux.” The two young fellows tangle with each other every time they meet due to the bad blood between them.Â
Now “décrocher” means to unhook.Â
“Ma mère a demandé à ma soeur de décrocher la porte d’en avant.” My mother asked (of) my sister to unhook (unlatch) the front door.
“Le collier que la belle fille apportait s’a “décroché” et p(u)is là , les perles ont tombé par terre et ils ont fait beaucoup du tracas équand d’autres ont marché sur eux.” The necklace that the pretty girl was wearing unhooked itself and so the pearls fell to the floor and they made much trouble when others walked on them.
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The title of this post translated into English is:Â Crush the ore, sift that which is crushed, leave behind a thing of value.
I hope you can follow my line of thought in this theme. When searching for stones etc. of great value, you must first of all crush the ore, sift it and then you leave behind something of value. It may not always happen that way, but that is the hope held by the miner.
The same is true with gaining knowledge, which once polished, can become like a gem of great value. The same can be said of the Cajun Language. I hope I’m not coming across as a pedant, though I treasure my knowledge of Cajun, I am not trying to overwhelm anyone with that.
So like a search for a valuable gem, if you have the desire to learn the language of your mother, keep crushing, keep sifting and you will find a valuable gem from time to time. What does one do with a valuable gem? Yes, he or she uses it and cherishes it and polishes it from time to time so it will not tarnish. The problem with many Cajuns, as I said before, is that they have allowed their “gem” to tarnish and it is hard to make it shine.
The verb “écraser” in French means “to crush.” SF has another verb “broyer,” which also means to crush, but could carry the thought of grinding to a fine powder.
In Cajun as I stated before we have different verbs to express the action of grinding. The verb “broyer” was never heard among my family members, but “moudre,” and “hacher” were.
For grinding meat we could use “moudre” and “hacher.” However when describing that type of meat we could also use “la viande moulu,” “la viande moudu,” and “la viande haché.”
“Hacher” is also used this way: “Le tit bougre l’a “haché” quand y s’a battu avec le brigand du voisinage, qua’même qu’il était plus p’tit. The young fellow whipped the neigbor hood brigand mercilessly even though he was smaller (than the brigand).
“Le team de mon village a haché le team d’Opelousas quand il(s) ont joué à la plotte hier.” My city’s team beat the team from Opelousas severely when they played ball yesterday. (The SF word for team is “l’équip” (fem.). I never heard that term used at home. We used the English word “team.” We also often used “team” for a “team of horses.”
“Tamiser” is a verb that can mean “to sift flour, sand, etc.” The noun is “le tamis.” We had different types of “sifters.” We had one for the flour with a handle to aerate the flour as well. One for different uses. We had one set aside to screen the milk once the cows were milked. That was the extent of our milk screening. There were bigger ones to sift sand and rocks, etc.
The noun “l’écran” (mas.) was used for the screen on a window or door as well as for “a movie screen.” Also we used “le gris” for the screen on a window or door. E.g. “Not(re) maison avait une porte en gris pour empêcher les mouches et d’autres moustiques de rentrer *(entrer) et nous embarrasser, particulièrement pendant le soir.” Our house had a screen door to keep the flies and other small insects (this would of course include mosquitoes) from entering the house and to plague us especially during the night.
*More often than not the verb “to enter” in Cajun was pronounced “rentrer.” This is another example, gem, of the Cajun language. We like to change “en” to “re”. Another example of many is the verb “reculer or culer” in Cajun which means to back up or retreat. We love to put the “er” instead of “re,” making it sound “erculer.” It is a unique sound!
“Avant qu’on usant la farine de froment, les cuisinères la tamisaient.” Before using the wheat flour (white) the cooks sifted it.
“Il y’a des fois y semble nécessaire de tamiser les paroles du monde d’aujourd’hui avant les lacher.” It would seem necessary to sift the words of people of today before letting go of them (speaking them.)
“Laisser” of course means to let, to allow or to permit. “Quitter” is often used “to let,” to leave, to part etc. Like in English “let” and “leave” is often interchanged, though not necessarily correct.
“Quittes-moi donc voir t’aider.” Let me please help you. “L’homme a quitté sa femme.” The man left his wife. “Laissez-moi aller avec vous.” Let me go with you. “Laisses-moi aller avec toi.” Let me go with you (second person familiar). “Laissez ça tranquil mes enfants!” Leave that alone my children!
“La valeur” is a noun for “worth, value or price.” The verb “valoir” is used to express value. However, you do not see the infinitive at all in it’s conjugations.
“On peut pas placer une valeur sur ça du tout!” We cannot place a value on this at all!Â
Anyway just a few thoughts here. I will think up some more “gems” after I will have rested.
Merci, encore, et j’vas essayer de vous am(e)ner plus de mon verger des mots, plus tard.Â
Quand une personne devient plus vieux le corps commence a se défaire, particulièrement, si des traumas auraient pris place dans le passé pendant la jeunesse.
Translation to the above: When a person becomes older the body commences to undo itself (or fall apart or unravel), particularly if some traumas were to have taken place in the past during one’s youth.
Moi, j’m'ai fait du mal dans le bas de mon dos (le rien) quand j’etais bien jeune, et aussi plus tard, dans ma vie associé avec mon ouvrage.
Translation to the above:Â Me, I have hurt (have made hurt) my lower back when I was very young, and also later, in my life associated with my secular work.
Quand j’m'assieds pour une (aine) bonne élan, mon dos commence à faire mal. Je vous dis ça pour vous quitter connaître* quoi-faire que j’ai pas ecrit dernièrement sur mon site.
Translation to the above: When I sit for a good moment, my back starts to hurt. I tell YOU this to let YOU know why that I cannot write lately on my site.
J’souhaite que vous-autres peut apprécier mon dilemme (embarras). J’crois, j’pourrai (if “que” is used according to standard French, I no doubt would have to say “que j’puisse, a tense I never heard around my Cajun folks,) recommencer à écrire bétôt d’autres choses très intéressant.Â
Translation to the above: I hope that you can appreciate my dilemma. I think that I could restart shortly to write on other interesting things.
Éspérez-donc patiemment à mon retour. Je vous souhaite tous le mieux.
Translation to the above: Please wait patiently to my return. I wish YOU all the best.  (Remember “donc” in Cajun can also stand for “please” and not just for “then” or “in that case.”)Â
*Remember in Cajun we elide or drop many endings or letters. When we pronounce “connaît(re) you do not hear the “re.” When it is to emphasize perhaps we will pronounce it. When it is to show respect like, (notre) in prayer we would pronounce the “re,” otherwise it is generally heard as “notte.”
The same is true for “vot(re).” We generally pronounce it “votte,” however, “votre” is not to be used when referring to Our Creator. We always should use the affectionate pronoun”tu.”