*”J’use le mot “picoch(e)ries, malgré que c’nom-là est pas trouvé dans un dictionaire français ou Cajun.” (I use the word “pickings” despite this noun (there) is not found in any French or Cajun dictionary.)
“C’mot-là été usé équand on était après charer ou causer en famille.” (This word there was used when we were chattering or egaged in light conversations in family atmospheres.)
“Picocher” is a Cajun verb that means to pick at something, like a bird does. We carried that over into the field of nit-picking or being nosy. “Cette vieille femme aime picocher dans les affaires des autres. On a un proverbe qui va comme ça-ici, “Y faut pas aller brasser dans les chaudières qui appartiennent à les aut(res), il faut brasser dans not(res) propres chaudières.” (This old woman likes to pick in other peoples’ affaires. We have a proverb that goes like that here, “One should not stir in the pots that belong to others, one must stir in his own pots.)*
*Of course that would mean to keep your nose out of other people’s business!
Standard French uses “picoter” for “to peck at” or “to bicker” rather than “picocher” as do Cajuns. Cajun: “Arrêtes de picocher après ta tite soeur, ain!” (Stop (thou) picking (of picking) at your little sister.) “Arrêtez d’ostiner!” (You stop that quarrelling or bickering!)
In Cajun “la picote” is used for the chicken pox or small pox. I see in SF “la variole” is used for Small Pox and “la varicelle” is used for Chicken Pox. Could the term in Cajun “la picote” have come from “to peck” or “to scratch?” “À chaque la sienne.” (To each his own.)
The French adverb “enfin” was used often in my family’s daily conversation. It was used in a way that sounded to me simply as an expression that meant “oh well.” As I reflect on how it was used, I can see now why my folks used it so often.
This Cajun word was used alone at times. My mother would make a statement like, “j’connais pas quoi qui va arriver avec ça, non.” Then she would simply say, “enfin” in a perhaps acquiescent manner and that would be it. We surmised that she meant “after all” or “we’ll see.”
At times a shoulder shrug was made along with hands going into gesture while enunciating that adverb. That was a more forceful way of letting ones know that “whatever, we’ll see” was revolving in the speaker’s head.
“Cette affaire qu’il est après faire vaut pas d’la peine. Enfin, on va voir si j’sus correct ou pas.” (This thing that he is doing is not worthwhile [not worth the pain]. At the end, we will see if I am right [correct] or not.)
“Mais gardez-donc ça, oui, j’ai trouvé une aut(re) tite affaire dans laquelle j’peux picocher” (But look please at that, yes, I have found another little thing in the which I can pick or peck.)
“Justement* pour renouveler la mémoire,” when I place a letter or letters in ( ) it, or they, are not pronounced but elided, usually by Cajuns.
*Here is where we break away from eliding, not pronouncing, the “e.” If I were to elide the first “e” in “just(e)ment.” rather than pronouncing it, the Cajun ear would pick up a discordance. In most cases the middle “e” is elided but not in “justement.” (justment-would be sounded and that was never heard.)
Where I grew up sometimes I would hear different pronunciations for the French word “bien.” At times when “bien” [well] was used in front of a word that began with a silent “h” followed by a vowel or when the word began with a vowel we would express it in various ways. E.g. “Mais gardes* il est bien (h)abiller aujourd’hui, oui.” (But look [thou] he is well dressed today, yes.) The “n” consonant was not run into the vowel “a” in “(h)abiller.” All you heard was “bien (h)abiller,” the “n” was slightly sounded. (The Cajun ‘n’ is sent to the nasal passage and has a slight “ain” sound.) At other times the “n” in “bien” was run into the “a” in “(h)abiller” and the tongue would roll to say “bien-a” [biena] “bien(h)abiller.”
*Another example here where the “s” may or may not have been pronounced and run into the vowel “i” in “il.” Usually in my locale the “s” in “gardes” was dropped. ["gardes" to mean "thou look"] However, the “l” in “il” was pronounced and run into “est” and we sounded it out as one word “ilest” (ilé). Generally, if the “t” were followed by a vowel it was elided. “Il es(t) après aller trop douc(e)ment .” (He is going too slow.) “Douc(e)ment” is used by Cajuns to mean “slowly,” in the sense of velocity or speed. In SF it seems to be used for “slowly” also, but not in the sense that Cajuns use it. “Vas doucement avec le vin!” (Go slowly or gently with the wine was used.) Cajuns also use that adverb as in SF to denote “mildly, softly, gently etc.” “Marches douc(e)ment cher pour pas réveiller ton tit frère qu’est après dormir dans la grande chamb(re) à coucher.” (Walk softly dear for not to wake up your little brother who is sleeping in the master bedroom.)
The French adverb “lentement” was seldom heard in my household. I may have heard my elders say, “Lent(e)ment, lent(e)ment avec ça cher.” Or, “Douc(e)ment, douc(e)ment avec les mulets mon garçon.” (Take it easy, take it easy, dear one, with the mules.) If you didn’t those little Creole mules would rebel and do what they wanted to do!
So if you want to convince a Cajun to slow down in the driving of his car, use “douc(e)ment” rather than “lent(e)ment” and you will have better results.
Something unique in our area was the addition of a “s” at the end of “bien.” So we would say “biens-(h)abiller” [biensa]. The “s” was run into the “a” [biens(h)abiller, was sounded]. The “s” had the “zed or z” sound.
“J’étais biens-habiller (biens(h)abiller) équand j’ai reçu mon diplôme, mais aujourd’hui le linge sur mon dos, que j’apporte, est [sont] justement des haillons*.” (I was well dressed when I received my diploma, but today the clothes on my back, that I wear, are simply rags.)
*In many cases the French “h” is aspirated by Cajuns. This is the case in the word “haillons” for [rags]. Another example would be in the French verb “to hate,” [haïr]. The “ha” is heard. Another e.g. would be the verb “to pull,” [haler], The “ha” is heard, [ha-lay, not a-lay]. If I heard the latter, I would have thought that someone was saying “aller,” meaning to go rather than to pull.
I reiterate that we learned our mother tongue by “ear” not by the book.
“Très” (very or very much) was employed in our daily conversations. “J’me sens très bien asteur (à cette heure) mais ça peut s’faire qu’après j’vas finir mon ouvrage j’vas pas me sentir aussi bien.” (I feel very well now, but it could be that after I will finish (have finished) my work I will not be feeling so well.)
The adverb “trop” was used at times in the place of “très” as we used it in our English. “J’me sens pas trop bien aujourd’hui.” (I do not feel too much well today.) “J’sus pas trop gaillard.” (I am not too much hale, well, hardy etc.)
“Il est très dommage qu’é peut pas v(e)nir avec nous-aut(res).” (It is very much a pity that she cannot come with us.) “Il est trop dommage qu’a peut pas nous joind(re) au village.” (It is too much of a pity that she cannot join us in (at the) town.) [Remember in Cajun the pronoun for "she" (elle) can be pronounced in four different ways.]
“É veut aller avec toi pour s’acheter du linge pour les noce de sa fille, à bientôt (bétôt, bienvite).” She wants to go with you so she can buy herself some clothes for the soon wedding of her daughter.)
“A veut aller…” is used in the above as well. The rule for using “é or a” is this: before a word that begins with a consonant Cajuns use “é or a” in some areas. Before a vowel like “é est malade” is not euphonious. It would sound like a musical dissonance or discord.
Now we have two other “elles.” In front of a vowel Cajuns will use “elle” or “alle.” “Elle est très belle.” (She is very beautiful.) “Alle est..” is used also. In my area, “a” and “alle” were used more often than “elle” or “é.” However, I had an aunt who used the latter due to the area from which she came.
Using “alle” in front of a word that begins with a consonant does not sound right to me. E.g., “Alle veut pas manger.” (She does not want to eat.) “A veut pas manger” sounds better. “Elle veut pas manger” sounded too foreign to us, or “out of the neighborhood.” You see you could tell where individual Cajuns lived by listening to their speech.
We always of course used “elle” when an action was to be passed on or received (object). “Donne-cette plotte à elle.” (Give this ball to her.) Never did we use “alle” “é” or “a”!
“Mais gardez mes amis si une personne croirait que la langue des Cajuns est un mélée mélange, é devrait la étudier pour elle-même, et après ça, a pourra arriver à sa décision.” (But look all of you, my friends, if a person were to think that the Cajun tongue is just a mish mash, he or she should study it for himself or herself, and after that, he or she will be able to arrive at his or her decision.)
“Eh bien, assez sur c’sujet-là.” (Oh well, enought on this there subject.)
Cajuns in my area used “galancer,” meaning to swing, rather than “balancer.” “Balancer” was used when we would “balance” something or ourselves. “La galance” was used for “the swing.” In SF “la balançoire” (park swing) is used for “the swing.”
“Presque chaque maison dans la compagne avait une galance (SF balancelle) sous la gal(e)rie. “Équand la brune se faisait on s’asseyait sous la vieille gal(e)rie et on se galancait et au même temps on chantait des belles tites chansons.” (When dusk would appear we would sit under the old porch and we would swing ourselves and at the same time singing some beautiful little songs.)
“Réell(e)ment mon enfant, sois pas aussi brute avec ton tit frère!” (Really my child do not be so rough with your little brother.) “Réell(e)ment,” an adverb which was used for “really” was employed all during the day in our Cajun conversations. It was used often in a statement of surprise or by itself as an interjection. “Réell(e)ment cher, pourquoi que t’as fait ça?” (Really my dear why did you do that?) “Mais gardes, il a été se marrié soudain(e)ment, sans avoir parlé avec sa chère pauv(re) maman pour la quitter connaît(re) de sa décision!” Reply, “Réell(e)ment! Ça, ça donc! J’connais pas quoi que le jeune monde d’aujourd’hui ont dans leur idée!” (Really! That, that, [what next]. I don’t know what the young people of today are thinking about!)
In Cajun the adjective “brute” was used mainly to mean “rough.” “Il est trop brute, lui-là, oui.” (He is too rough him-there, yes.) In SF it can mean ‘raw, crude, unrefined, gross and rough. However, in our Cajun vicinity I heard it used mainly to denote roughness.
For “raw” we employed “cru.” “Naturel” and “pas rafiné (unrefined) was used when speaking about food. When describing an individual who was crude, we said, “il est très “grossier.” I would also often hear “ça, ça, c’est mal élevé, oui!” (That, that is one who is not raised up with manners, who is crude or ill-mannered.)
“Un tit bout d’temps” was used commonly in our Cajun speech. Of course it means “a little piece (bit) of time” and was used to mean “in a while, etc.” Another Cajun noun used for “in a short period of time” is “un élan.” In SF it takes on other related meanings but in my Cajun circle “l’élan” was used primarily to mean “a short time.”
“Mom, j’ai faim, équand donc que le diner va être mis sur la table?” “Dans un élan mon enfant, aies d’la patience. J’crois pas que t’es à la crêve de faim.” (Mom, I am hungry, when please will the dinner be put on the table? In a moment my child, be patient! I do not believe that you are starving.)
“Y faut que t’espères un tit bout d’temps avant d’alumer la mêche (SF méthanier) avec une allumette quand tu tourneras le gaz parce que la veilleuse (le pilot light) travaille pus (plus).” (It is necessary to wait a little bit of time before lighting the burner with a match when you turn on the gas because the pilot light does not work any longer.)
Since Cajuns were used to the old kerosene burner with a wick “la mêche” was adopted for “the burner.” Of course “le méthanier” was never heard in my household. We did not start to use “methane” or “butane” stoves until I was in my teens. Note too, the adverb “pus” in Cajun. Remember how we use “plus” as an adverb or preposition (more).
“J’en ai plusse que toi.” (I have more than you have.) “J’ai pus d’argent qui me reste après j’paie mes dettes.” (I have no more money left after I pay my debts.) “Mes douleurs augmentents de plus en plus.” (My pains increase more and more.) “É ou a fait ni plus ni moins qu’é ou a devrait faire.” (She [é or a] does neither more nor less that she has too.) “Il faut que tu vas plus vite que ça pour arriver sur [à] l’heure.” (It is necessary for you to go [more fast] faster than that to arrive on time.) “J’peux pas espérer, pas plus que ça, équand le tit bougre vien faire mes ouvrages au magasin.” (I cannot hope for more than that when the little guy comes to do the chores at the barn.) “Mais gardes, moi non plus, j’crois pas en ça!” (But look, me neither, I do not believe in that!)
“Assez asteur sur “plus” avant que j’vous gène avec “plus” des paroles sur ça!” (Enough now on “more” before that I annoy you with “more” words on that!)
“J’souhaite que tous ça en haut va peut-être vous donner un idée dans une manière ou un aut(re) comment que moi j’appris [j’ai appris ma premiêre langue.” (I hope that all the above will perhaps give you insight in one manner or another how that I learned my mother tongue.)
A QUIZLET SET TO THIS POST WILL FOLLOW “DANS UN TIT BOUT (DE) TEMPS.” (iN A LITTLE WHILE, OR SHORT PIECE OF TIME)
