by ·Comments Off on Khaled Il Habre’s President

Wow, it’s been a long time!

For our first post in over a year, let’s look at a political song that feels particularly relevant now (or maybe is always relevant): رئيس الجمهورية (‘President’) by خالد الهبر Khalid Il Habre (that’s how he spells it in English, don’t look at me), a Lebanese protest singer. I hope his lyrics make up for the dryness of my content. The video is available here. If you prefer, you can watch a version performed live on a TV show with two extremely pained-looking hosts – one of whom, Adel Karam, you may remember as the star of one of my earliest posts (although he had a better hairline then).

كنت هيدا البلد رجعتو للتأسيس
kǝnǝt hayda lbalad rajja3to la-tta2siis
I’d’ve have taken this country back to its founding

This whole song uses counterfactual conditionals. As I’ve already mentioned elsewhere, these are less strict in Arabic than in English: kaan + a past generally corresponds to ‘would have Xed’, but can also be interpreted as simply ‘would’ in the right context.

هيدا hayda is a distinctly Lebanese/coastal Syrian form for ‘this’.

Note the fronting of hayda l-balad and the –o standing in for it on rajja3t as well as the position of kǝnǝt before the whole thing. This order is slightly unusual – and here is used in order to make the rhyme and rhythm work rather than for emphasis – but still possible even in normal speech (have a look at this if you like).

بعت الوطن كلو دورة محو أمية
bǝ3t ǝlwaTan kǝllo dawret ma7w 2ummiyye
Sold the whole country an anti-illiteracy drive

This bǝ3t takes its conditional meaning from the kǝnt in the last sentence.

دورة محو أمية is the first of many political cliches and buzzwords. محو الأمية is ‘eradicating illiteracy’, دورة is a very versatile word that means all sorts of things but here is probably in the general vicinity of ‘course’ (as in ‘a writing course’).

لو عملوني أنا فخامة الرئيس
 law 3ǝmluuni 2ana fakhaamet ǝrra2iis
 If they’d made me His Excellency the President

Note that there’s no difference here between ‘if they had made me’ and ‘if they made me’. Both are law 3ǝmluuni. The use of the independent pronoun 2ana here expresses contrast – i.e. if they’d made me President (instead of X).

فخامة الرئيس – fakhaamet is one of many abstract nouns combined with titles to express respect (like ‘his majesty’ and ‘your honour’ in English, although Arabic has a lot more of them).

لو عملوني أنا رئيس الجمهورية
law 3ǝmluuni 2ana ra2iis ǝljumhuuriyye
If they’d made me President

Pretty much the same structure, with ‘President of the Republic’ (the full title, as opposed to رئيس الوزراء ra2iis ǝlwuzara ‘the Prime Minister’).

وما كنت خليت لا ورقة ولا هوية
w maa kǝnǝt khalleet laa wara2a wala hawiyye
I wouldn’t have kept papers or ID cards

maa… laa… wala… is similar to structures we’ve seen with wala elsewhere. It literally means ‘I wouldn’t have kept neither papers nor ID cards’.

لا محبة ولا شعور بالوحدة الوطنية
laa ma7abbe wala shu3uur bilwa7de lwaTaniyye
brotherly love or a sense of national unity

These are more objects of khalleet, within the same structure: ‘I wouldn’t have kept…’ These are obviously political buzzwords.

ولا شقفة دستور ولا شقفة جمهورية
wala sha2fet dustuur wala sha2fet jumhuuriyye
or this silly constitution, or this silly republic

The same structure again. شقفة sha2fe is literally a ‘rag’ or a small piece, but here (and commonly elsewhere) it’s used to express derision, which is slightly difficult to capture in English.

لو عملوني أنا رئيس الجمهورية
law 3ǝmluuni 2ana ra2iis ǝljumhuuriyye
If they’d made me President

 

كنت رفعت شعار عليك ومش عليي
kǝnt ǝrfa3ǝt shi3aar 3aleek w mish 3aleyyi
I would have made my watchword “better you than me!”

رفع شعار is literally ‘hold up the slogan’. It’s a very common phrase meaning to make something your watchword or to be a supporter of something. Note his Lebanese dropping of a short a – both Syrian and South Levantine would have rafa3t here.

عليك ومش عليي – this is a set phrase, meaning something like ‘if something bad has to happen, they should happen to you and not to me’ (i.e. it describes a person who will screw you over to avoid being screwed over themselves).

روح مسح باللي عندك حاج تمسح باللي فيي
ruu7 masse7 bi-lli 3ǝndak 7aaj tǝmsa7 bi-lli fiyyi

This line defeated me and all the native speakers I asked. My best and most unpleasant guess is that it’s supposed to mean ‘go and wipe yours, stop wiping mine’, with the بـ  serving as an intensive marker and اللي عندك and اللي فيي both being euphemisms for ‘arse’ (the whole thing would then be playing on the idiomatic use of مسّح to mean ‘flatter’ or ‘suck up to’). But if anyone has any better ideas please let me know.

مسّح – on its own can mean ‘wipe (your arse)’. A nice counterpart to the غسّل ghassal / غسل ghasal distinction, where the latter is ‘washing’ generally and the former is washing your hands, face etc.

 

خليني تخليك يا روحي ويا عينيي
khalliini ta-khalliik, yaa ruu7i w 3ayneyyi
To each his own, kiddo!

خليني تخليك khalliini ta-khalliik – something like ‘leave me so I can leave you’, ‘stop bothering me and I’ll stop bothering you’.

يا روحي ويا عينيي – two generic terms of endearment (‘my soul, my eyes’) that are a bit difficult to translate in this context because the effect is probably to express exasperation or be patronising (and because these sorts of terms are generally a bit difficult – maybe we should do a post on them).

لو عملوني أنا رئيس الجمهورية
law 3ǝmluuni 2ana ra2iis ǝljumhuuriyye
If they’d made me the President of the Republic

 

كنت الغيت الحوار وصلحت الأبجدية
kǝnt ǝlghiit ǝl7iwaar w Salla7t ǝl2abjadiyye
I’d have done away with dialogue, fixed the alphabet

لغي ‘abolish, cancel’

صلحت الأبجدية – this is probably a reference to the long-running dispute over Latinisation of (colloquial) Arabic.

لا هدنة لا مهادنة ولا مواقف مبدئية
 laa hǝdne laa muhaadane wala mawaa2ef mabda2iyye
No truce, no ceasefire and no principled stances!

لا هدنة ولا مهادنة is a protest slogan referring to peace with Israel.

بشيل اللي بدي شيلو بشيل الديموقراطية
bshiil ǝlli baddi shiilo, bshiil iddimuqraaTiyye
I’d get rid of whatever I wanted to, I’d get rid of democracy

The conditional structure here is just the b-present, which as I’ve said elsewhere normally corresponds to ‘I would X’. We probably wouldn’t switch between ‘I would have’ and ‘I would’ in an English song, but Arabic’s greater flexibility in its conditional syntax means this isn’t jarring.

شال يشيل shaal yshiil is a very common verb meaning ‘pick up’, ‘take out’, ‘get rid of’, ‘remove’ etc.

اللي بدي شيلو – this is a relative clause structure meaning ‘what I want to remove’ or, in this case, ‘what I wanted to remove’, with the conditional meaning taken from the sentence as a whole. Remember Arabic doesn’t do English tense-shifting!

لو عملوني أنا رئيس الجمهورية
law 3ǝmluuni 2ana ra2iis ǝljumhuuriyye
If they’d made me President

 

كنت الغيت النقاش وريحت البشرية
kǝnt ǝlghiit ǝnni2aash w rayya7t ǝlbashariyye
I’d have got rid of debate and given everyone a rest

النقاش ni2aash (as opposed to niqaash) is a distinctively Lebanese pronunciation. Lebanese speakers are generally more given to pronouncing q as 2 even in high-register words than speakers of other dialects.

ريح rayya7 is the causative of ارتاح rtaa7 ‘relax, have a rest’.

 

بلا كل يوم خطاب وبلا سياسية يومية
bala kǝll yoom khiTaab w bala siyaase yawmiyye
No more speeches every day and no more daily politics

بلا bala – this is the same use discussed here. It means something like ‘get rid of X’ or ‘screw this X’ or ‘forget about X’

روح تكتك ع الشباب حاج تتكت عليي
ruu7 taktek 3ashshabaab 7aaj ǝttaktek 3aleyyi
Take your “tactics” to the young people, stop “tacticsing” me

تكتك – obviously from English (or French) “tactics”, but this is a verb.

حاج – ‘stop Xing’

لو عملوني أنا رئيس الجمهورية
law 3ǝmluuni 2ana ra2iis ǝljumhuuriyye
If they’d made me President

 

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Hello everyone. Apologies for yet another long absence – I’ve been working on something pretty big that I’ll be able to tell you more about soon. But to tide you over, here’s a post about a verb (or two verbs, in fact) that you probably know in one sense but don’t realise the full potential of.

Dialects

رجع is used universally. رد is used only in North Levantine in the senses described below (although it is a very common verb in other more literal senses such as ‘answer’).

رجع is rije3/yirja3 in South Levantine and rəje3/yərja3 in North Levantine (these forms are more or less identical in pronunciation and the ə is in this case there for transcription reasons). The maSdar is رجوع rjuu3.

رد is radd/yrədd.

Literal meanings

The most common use of رجع is as a verb of motion equivalent to fuS7a عاد or English ‘go back’, ‘come back’, ‘return’ etc.

اضتريت انو ارجع ع البيت
iDTarreet 2inno 2arja3 3albeet 
I was forced to go back home

راجعة ع الحارة؟
raaj3a 3al7aara?
Are you going back to your part of town?

بعدو ما رجع من الشغل
ba3do maa rije3 mn ishshughol
He still hasn’t got back from work

ردّ also has a number of literal meanings. The most common is probably ردّ على radd 3ala ‘answer, respond to’, but it’s also sometimes used to mean ‘reciprocate’, ‘turn away’ or ‘reject’. رد الباب means ‘leave the door open’.

Do something again

The first idiomatic use of both رجع and رد is a bit trickier to make correspond to any one English word, although it is often similar to either ‘again’ or ‘back’. It expresses, more or less, resuming something/doing something again after having stopped doing it. Structurally, this verb can either be combined with another verb of an identical form or be followed by the subjunctive. The subjunctive seems to be more common in SL although both structures appear everywhere:

ايش رجعت نمت؟
2eesh, rji3et nimet? (J)
What, have you gone back to sleep [did you return go to sleep]?

برجع بحاكيك
barja3 ba7akiik (P)
I’ll call you back [I’ll return call you]

وبلكي رد عمل نفس العملة؟
w belki radd 3əmel nafs əl3amle? (S)
What if he does the same thing again [what if he again did the same doing]?

برجع بشتريه
barja3 bashtrii (P)
I’m going to buy it again

Note that it can happily co-occur with other words for ‘again’ despite the seeming redundancy:

سكرت 3 أيام لأني مليت وتعبت بس بعدين رجعت فتحت مرة تانية
sakkarət tlett tiyyaam la2ənni malleet w t3əbət bass ba3deen rjə3t fata7t marra taanye (S)
I closed (my account) for three days because I was bored but then I opened it again

Sometimes it is equivalent to the prefix re-:

كتبت منشور بس طلع كلو كذب قمت رجعت كتبتو مرة تانية
katabet manshuur bass Tile3 kullo kizeb 2umt rji3et katabto marra taanye (P)
I wrote a post but everything in it turned out to be lies so I rewrote it

Note this (seemingly superfluous) example where رد is combined with رجع in its literal sense:

معلومك الشرطة راحت بس بترد ترجع
ma3luumak əshshərTa raa7et bass bətrədd tərja3 (S)
And you know, the police have gone but they’ll come back again

There is an extended usage which doesn’t necessarily correspond to any English word but which basically occurs when there is a reconsideration or a review involved in the action. For example:

أول شي استغليتو بعدين رجعت اشتريتو
2awwal shi staghleeto ba3deen ərjə3t shtareeto
At first I thought it was too expensive but then later I changed my mind and bought it

رجع عملها مقالة طويلة ع أساس بدها تننشر
rije3 3imelha maqaale Tawiile 3a 2asaas biddha tinnisher
Then he made it into an essay/reworked it into an essay because it was supposedly going to be published

قرأتها نسخة الكترونية ولأنها بتستحق رجعت اشتريتها نسخة ورقية
qara2tha nuskha 2iliktroniyya w la2innha btista7eqq rji3et ishtareetha nuskha waragiyya (P)
I read a digital copy then because it was worth it I bought a paper copy as well [I rebought it in paper form]

Go back to being

There is another use of رجع and رد that may not seem immediately familiar. This can literally be translated as ‘go back to being’ although this is rarely the most idiomatic choice in English. Like صار it expresses a change of state – but here the change explicitly is back to a state that existed before (i.e a ‘return’).

بدّي إرجع بنت صغيرة على سطح الجيران
bəddi 2ərja3 bənt əzghiire 3ala saT7 əljiiraan (S)
I want to go back to being a little girl on the neighbours’ roof

بتخيل مواقف وهميه معاهم بتفرحني بتذكر انو راحو برجع حزين
batkhayyal mawaa2ef wahmiyye ma3aahom bitfarri7ni, batzakkar 2inno raa7u barja3 7aziin (J)
I imagine made-up scenes with them that make me me happy, (then) I remember they’re gone and I’m sad again

علواه نرجع متل ما كنا
3aluwaa nərja3 mətəl ma kənna! (L)
If only we could go back to how we were!

لا لا هلق رجعت عادية
la2 la2 halla2 rəj3et 3aadiyye (L)
No no now it’s gone back to normal

Note that this structure also exists in fuS7a with عاد:

ولكن المريض بعدها يعود عاديًا تمامًا
walaakin almariiDu ba3daha ya3uudu 3aadiyyan tamaaman
But afterwards the patient regains full health [= goes back to being totally normal]

Causatives

These verbs of course have causatives. radd can itself be used as a causative. For rəje3/rije3 a separate causative exists, rajja3:

شوفة بترد الشايب شب
shoofe bətrədd əshshaayib shabb (L)
A sight that would turn an old man back into a young man

النضارة بترجعك ولد صغير
innaDDaara bitrajj3ak walad izghiir (P)
Glasses make you look like a child again [return you a child]

by ·Comments Off on ليكون laykuun

This post is about a high-frequency structure that you’re unlikely to learn in your 3aammiyye classes but which is, conveniently, the title of an El Morabba3 song: ليكون laykuun.

Dialects

In all Levantine dialects ليكون can be used as an invariable expression. Historically, however, it is a contraction of لا يكون laa ykuun ‘let it not be‘ – that is, a negative subjunctive form of the verb كان. In North Levantine, conjugated forms sometimes appear in the same meaning: لا تكون راجع لهون laa tkuun raaje3 lahoon ‘I hope you’re not coming back here’. In the rest of this post for the purposes of simplicity I’ll only be using laykuun.

Use

Laykuun can be translated a number of ways. Its basic function is to introduce conjectures with a distinctly negative connotation. Let’s begin with a fairly dramatic example. Take for example the المربع song I mentioned in the beginning. Like a lot of alternative music its lyrics are not the most transparent meaning-wise but it’s fairly obvious from these two couplets that he’s remonstrating with an ex:

ليكون زعلتي زعلك مش مفهوم فجأة بلمتي كأنك درس تعلمتي
laykuun z3ilti, za3lek mish mafhuum, faj2a ballamti, ka2innek dars t3allamti
Don’t tell me you’re upset?  It’s impossible to understand – you went silent suddenly, as if you’d learnt a lesson

ليكون اندمتي ندمك مش مدروس انتي اللي اخترتي انتي اللي احترتي
laykuun ndimti, nadamek mish madruus, inti lli khtirti inti lli 7tirti
Don’t tell me you’re regretful? Your regret doesn’t make sense – it was you who chose, it was you who got coonfused

Here the connotation is that if this is the explanation for your behaviour, it’s pretty unreasonable. Incidentally, whoever (and I’m guessing it was a native speaker of Arabic) translated these lyrics on YouTube used ‘could it be…?’ to translate laykuun. This obviously reflects the conjecture meaning I mentioned earlier.

Here’s another example. A dad might say affectionately to his son:

شبك سرحان متل المسطل؟ ليكون عشقان لك أزعر؟
shəbak sar7aan mətl l@msaTTel? laykuun 3ash2aan lak 2az3ar?
What’s up with all this staring into space? Don’t tell me you’re in love, you reprobate?
[What’s wrong with you staring into space like a stoned person?]

Here the negative connotation is gentler and more comical. Your friend might say this to you if you can’t find the street you’re looking for:

ليكون خربطنا بالطريق؟
laykuun kharbaTna biTTarii2?
You don’t think we might have gone the wrong way?

 ليكون بدك تتحالف معهم ضدي
 laykuun biddak tit7aalaf ma3hom DiDDi
Surely you’re not going to make an alliance with them against me?

Note that you can also use laykuun to be polite. For example:

ليكون ضايقناك بس؟
laykuun daaya2naak bass?
I just hope we haven’t bothered you?

This sentence could of course also be sarcastic depending on intonation.

by ·Comments Off on Tired, by God – تعبان

This is a post about a common, and commonly misused, word – تعبان ta3baan.

First things first. Grammatically, تعبان is an -aan participle, which we’ve previously talked about here. Like many other participles, it refers to the state resulting from a verb – in this case تعب ti3eb/yit3ab. This verb has a causative with its own participle (تعّب ta33ab, متعب mta33eb). There’s also an adjective derived from the same root with a related meaning, متعب mit3eb/mut3eb. These forms do not differ significantly from dialect to dialect.

Normally, تعبان is translated as ‘tired’, تعب as ‘get tired’, and متعب as ‘tiring’ or ‘tiresome’. Although this is certainly somewhere close to the meaning, تعبان is somewhat stronger than the English word ‘tired’ is. Most of the time, a more appropriate equivalent to English ‘tired’ is نعسان na3saan ‘sleepy, drowsy’. تعبان  is probably closer in this case to ‘worn out’ or ‘exhausted’. If you say you’re ‘tired’ in English after getting up early nobody will be surprised, but if you say you’re تعبان under the same circumstances you’re likely to be met with concern!

تعبان is also often used in a sense closer to ‘ill’ – that is, it often carries a connotation that you’re coming down with something or are poorly.

Note that unlike ‘tired’, تعبان can also be used to refer to things. If someone tells you:

البيت تعبان ولله
@lbeet ta3baan waLLa

What they mean is that it’s old or shabby (and not, obviously, that it’s tired).

Likewise:

الحالة تعبانة يا ليلى
il7aale ta3baani yaa leyla

Means things are not looking good, that things are in a bad way, etc.

Note also the expression:

نفسيتو تعبانة
nafsiyyto ta3baane
He’s really down in the dumps
Things have really got him down

Note also the common use of the verb تعب in the following construction:

تعبنا كتير لحتى وصلنا
t3ǝbna ktiir la7atta waSSalna 
It took us forever to get there [= we got tired a lot until we arrived]
It took so much effort to get here

la7atta is distinctly Syrian. ta- (Leb, Pal) and la- (everywhere) are other regional alternatives.

by ·Comments Off on لكان and ولا

Today’s post is about two very useful words, لكان and ولا.

Dialects

The general rule is that لكان is used in North Levantine, while ولا is used in South Levantine (note that ولا in the sense of ‘or’, which we talked about a bit in this post, is used everywhere and isn’t the subject of this post). لكان is also used in northern Palestine. Note that lakaan and willa do not entirely overlap – some of the uses of lakaan do not have willa equivalents.

Right, correct, exactly, that’s how it is

One of the most basic meanings of لكان or ولا is to agree with somebody:

اي لكان عمي مزبوط كلامك
2ee lakaan 3ammi maZbuuT kalaamak (NL)

اه ولا عمي مزبوط كلامك
2aa willa 3ammi maZbuuT kalaamak (SL)
That’s right, uncle, what you said is spot on

As with waLLa and certain other expressions, you can use it to agree with yourself – i.e. to emphasise what you’ve just said. The English use of ‘yes indeed’ in this sort of sentence sounds a bit silly to me, but the Arabic is more normal:

ولله صارت الاسعار نار اي لكان
waLLa Saaret @l2as3aar naar 2ee lakaan (NL)

ولله صارت الاسعار نار اه ولا
waLLa Saarat il2as3aar naar 2aa willa (SL)
The prices are really mad these days, yes indeed

So, in that case, then

We can relate the second usage to the first by adding a simple ‘if’ to the English translation: ‘(if) that’s how it is, then…’ In this sense lakaan is a synonym of other expressions like معناتا ma3naata, اذن izan, اذا هيك iza heek etc – and since willa doesn’t work here, Jerusalemite/Ammani requires one of these alternatives:

لكان بمرق لعندك ع الستة
lakaan bǝmro2 la3ǝndak 3assǝtte (NL)

اذن بمرق عندك ع الستة
2izan bamro2 3indak 3assitte (SL)
In that case I’ll drop by at six

A common expression you’re likely to hear in TV series or from irritated friends is:

هيك لكان
heek lakaan! (NL)
So that’s how it is!

So what did you mean then?

This is another related use. Imagine it’s your friend’s birthday and nobody’s turned up. You tell them not to worry, people will be here soon. They tell you that’s not what’s wrong. You respond:

 لكان شو في؟
lakaan shuu fii? (NL)

ولا شو في؟
willa shuu fii? (SL)
So what is the matter?

In this case we can use ‘so’ in English. But lakaan can carry the same meaning standing alone. Let’s imagine you and your friend are having an argument. Your friend makes a point which you respond to, to which they say لا مو قصدي la2 muu 2aSdi ‘no, that’s not what I mean’. You can respond simply:

لكان؟
lakaan? (NL)
ولا؟
willa? (SL)
So what did you mean?

If not X, then what did I mean?

The usage given in the paragraph above can be expressed in English as ‘if not X, then what/how/why?’ etc. This can also be used rhetorically. Let’s say you’re surprising your friend with the news that his mum has recently remarried. He says: شو؟ إمي تجوزت؟ shuu? 2ǝmmi tjawwazet?! You respond:

لكان إمي؟
lakaan 2ǝmmi? (NL)
ولا امي؟
willa 2immi? (SL)
Who else – my mum, for example?

This is tricky to translate nicely with a question because (as well as being somewhat callous) we don’t use a question here. What we would probably say – not as a question but in tones of dripping sarcasm – is nooo, MY mum.

by ·Comments Off on عمل do, make
3molma3ruf

Apologies for the radio silence, guys – I was away for the summer and I’ve been working on various side-projects. But now we’re back. This post is another addition to our Verbs I Might Have Known series (for other episodes, see زبط , اجى, طلع, نزل, صار, نفسي and قعد), this time about possibly the most common and useful catch-all verb in spoken Arabic, عمل.

Even if you’ve only taken a few steps along the road to perdition that is learning fuS7a, you’ll probably know this verb in the meaning of ‘work’ (if you’ve done even one chapter of the Al Kitaab series, it’s what Maha’s dad does at the UN). In Levantine, however, its meaning has shifted to a generic ‘do’ or ‘make’. Many of its derivations – e.g. 3aamel ‘labourer’, ‘factor’ (plurals 3ummaal and 3awaamel respectively) – do still carry meanings to do with work. But the verb itself is used in a thousand and one different contexts, which we’ll try and give a representative taster of in this post.

Dialect forms

In Syrian/Lebanese the past tense is عمل ‪3əmel, conjugated normally. In Palestinian/Jordanian it is the predictable equivalent 3imel (see the PDF for conjugation). In the present there is much more variation: in South Levantine the form is entirely regular (yi3mel, bi3mel, bti3mel etc). In North Levantine, the prefix vowel has an irregular a; in Syrian the stem vowel is e (bta3mel) and in Lebanese the vowel is o (bta3mol). The maSdar is عمل ‪3amal.

Do, make (and ‘have’)

For speakers of languages other than English the difference between ‘do’ and ‘make’ is generally fairly mysterious. Luckily for you, in Arabic this difference does not really exist. While it would (of course) be an exaggeration to claim عمل can be used in every single case where ‘do’ or ‘make’ is appropriate in English, it certainly is the best catch-all equivalent:

شو عم تعمل؟
shuu 3am ta3mel? (S)
What are you doing?

ايش عامل اليوم؟
2eesh 3aamel ilyoom? (P)
What are you up to today?
What have you done today?

The participle here is ambiguous – like lots of other participles its ‘core’ meaning is resultative (‘have done’) but this expression in particular is often used to refer to future plans.

عمول الشاي
3mool @shshaay (L)
Make the tea!

بتقدر تعمل اللي بدك اياه
btigdar ti3mel illi biddak 2iyyaa (J)
You can do whatever you want

With b- it lines up with ‘do X to’:

شو عامل بحالك؟
shuu 3aamel b7aalak?
What have you done to yourself?

Note that in these senses 3imel has a very common synonym, ساوى saawa or سوى sawwa (mostly but not exclusively North Levantine versus South Levantine).

Make X into Y

Although most causal-ish senses of ‘make’ are actually covered by various causative contructions (for which see this post), عمل can express making X into Y:

عملناك مسخرة اليوم يا حمار
3milnaak maskharet ilyoom yaa 7maar (J)
We’ve made you the joke of the day, you idiot

نحن عملناك قوي لتستقوي ع القوات مش علينا
nə7na 3məlneek 2awi la-təsta2wi 3a l2uwweet məsh 3aleyna! (L)
We made you strong so you’d overpower the [Lebanese] Forces, not us!

With nouns

As with ‘do’ and ‘make’ عمل collocates with various different nouns either in set phrases or productively. In some cases English uses a different verb. It would be literally impossible to list all the possible collocations, but hopefully these will give you some idea:

عمل جهد ‪(jəhd/juhd) ‘make an effort’
عمل عملة ‪(3amle) ‘do something (bad), do a (bad) deed’
بتعمل عمايلها ‪(3amaayil(h)a)‪ ‘take its toll, work its magic’
عامل السبعة وذمتها (issab3a wzimmitha/zəmmətha) ‘done all the major sins’
عملها ‘go to the toilet’ [= do it]
عملها تحتو ‘soil/wet oneself’ [= do it under oneself]
عمل مشكلة, مشاكل ‘make/cause trouble, make problems’
عمل من الحبة قبة (mn il7abbe 2ibbe) ‘make a mountain out of a mole hill’
عمل معروف ‘do [someone] a favour’ (in NL, especially Lebanese, the imperative form of this is used as a way to say ‘please’)
عمل فتنة بين (fitne) ‘make trouble between, stir up trouble between’
عمل قصة كبيرة ‘kick up a fuss’

Note these cases where very different verbs are used in English but where عمل is entirely natural in Arabic:

عمل عملية ‘have an operation (as a patient)’ , ‘operate (on a patient)’
عمل فحص (fa7S) ‘have a (medical) test’
عمل حادث ‘have an accident’

عمللي جلطة ‘give me a stroke’ (mostly non-literal)
عمللي اكتئاب ‘give me depression’
عمللي لعية نفس (la3yet nafs) ‘makes me feel sick’ (metaphorically or literally)

عمل حساب جديد (‪7saab) ‘open a new account’
عمل عقد (‪3aq@d) ‘sign a contract, draw up a contract’
عمل جو (jaww) ‘create a [pleasant] atmosphere’
عمل نظام جديد ‘introduce a new system’

Note with certain loanwords, all with l-:

عمل ريسترت – restart (a computer)
عمل تشيك إين – check in (to a hotel)
عمل تشيك اب (tshek 2aab) – have a check up (at the doctor’s)
عمل فرمطة – format (a computer)
عمل تاغ – tag (someone on Facebook)
عمل بلوك – block (someone on the internet)
عمل مساج (masaaj) – give (someone) a massage

But also note that Arabic is much keener on repetition of words from the same root and may use a verb cognate to the object rather than default ‘do’: غلط غلطة ghəleT ghalTa ‘make a mistake’, etc.

Pretend

You’re probably familiar with عمل حالو ‘pretend to be’ [= make oneself out to be]. This is particularly common with the participle in a continuous sense:

عامل حالو شغلة كبيرة
3aamel 7aalo shaghle kbiire
He’s pretending to be a bigshot

عاملة حالها ما بتعرف
3aamle 7aalha maa bta3ref
She’s pretending not to know

Acting the

Plus indefinite noun عمل can mean ‘act the’ in a rude or dismissive way:

لا تعمللي معلم يا ولد
laa ta3məlli m3allem yaa walad
Don’t act the big man with me, boy

Often in this sense it appears with فيها ‘in it’ referring to the situation:

طول عمرك قمرجي نسونجي سكرجي وهلأ جاي تعمللي فيها شريف مكة
Tool 3umrak 2marji niswanji sikirji w halla2 jaay ti3milli fiiha shariif makke! (J)
A lifelong gambling, womanising drunk – and now you want to act like the Sharif of Mecca! [for this use of اجى see this post]

Go on about, talk about (inappropriately)

3imel can also be used dismissively in contexts like the following, where it means something like ‘go on about’ or ‘bring up’ in an inappropriate context:

هي بدها تزبيط! – لك لا تعمللي تزبيط مزبيط
hayy bədda taZbiiT – lak laa ta3məlli taZbiiT maZbiiT
This one needs fixing – Don’t give me all that about ‘fixing’!

What needs to be done now?

An expression:

والعمل هلق؟
w @l3amal halla2?
What do we need to do now?

by ·Comments Off on اخد ‪2akhad ‘take’ (and its other meanings)

A slightly late post in our Verbs I Might Have Known series. This one is about اخد ‪2akhad, a verb we certainly all know. Compared to previous verbs in this series, 2akhad has less core or auxiliary meanings, but it does appear in a lot of common and useful combined phrases which we’ll cover here.

Dialect forms

اخد’s past form is the same everywhere, 2akhad. Its present forms, however, vary: in North Levantine they have a consistent long aa in the prefixes that absorbs the hamze (baakhod, btaakhod, byaakhod…) and in South Levantine they have a long oo except in the first person singular, where they have aa (baakhod, btookhod etc). The imperative forms in NL are khood, khədi, khədu, while SL has similar forms but (as expected) doesn’t have the shift of short u/i to ə, producing khood, khudi, khudu . Occasionally you might hear the shortened forms خو kho, خي khi and خو khu. The participle in NL is regular (2aakhed) but in SL is irregular, with m (ماخد maakhed).

Take, get, bring…

The most basic and literal meaning of 2akhad is of course ‘take’. This is probably so basic as to not require any examples – خود هي khood hayy ‘take this’, etc. But it is worth noting that often 2akhad is used in contexts where ‘get’ would be the idiomatic choice in English:

تعالي خدي ابنك
ta3aali khədi 2ibnek (S)
Come and get your son

جاي اخد التتذكرة
jaay 2aakhod ittazkara (P)
I’ve come to get the ticket

Take (someone somewhere)

Likewise, it can be used in the sense of taking somebody somewhere:

توت توت ع بيروت يا بيي خدني مشوار
tuut tuut 3a beyruut yaa beyyi khədni məshwaar (L)
Toot, toot, on to Beirut – Dad, take me for a drive [= take me a trip]

خدني معك وديني ع شارع الحمرا
khədni ma3ak, waddiini, 3a shaare3 əl7amra (L)
Take me with you, o take me to Hamra Street

In this sense you can use the participle as a future:

وين اخدنينني؟
ween 2aakhdiinni? (S)
Where are you taking me?

 

‘Have’ (in orders, food etc)

وانا باخد الملوخية
w2ana baakhod limlukhiyye (P)
And I’ll have the mulukhiyye

Take it from me:

In the sense of ‘trust me’:

هادا قرار كله كله حكمة مش رح تلاقي حد يفهمك زيهم خدي مني
haada qaraar kullo 7ikme. mish ra7 itlaa2i 7ad yifhamek zayyhom khudi minni (J)
That’s a very sensible decision. You won’t find anyone who understands you like they do, trust me!

Take something to heart, take offence:

Literally ‘take onto one’s khaaTer‘: اخد على خاطرو, or اخد ع بالو ‘take onto one’s baal‘.

شكلو كان يحلم بشهادة رسمية منشان هيك آخد على خاطرو من الاستاذ
shəklo kaan yə7lam bshahaade rasmiyye mənshaan heek 2aakhed 3ala khaaTro mn əl2əstaaz (S)
It seems like he had dreams of getting an official licence, and that’s why he’s upset with/taken offence at the teacher

Take it in the spirit in which it was intended

Literally, ‘take it in a sporting spirit’:

بدك توخدها بروح رياضية ماشي؟
biddak tookhudha bruu7 riyaDiyye, maashi? (J)
You have to be a good sport about it, OK?

To take a (principled) stand, position:

اخد موقف ‪2akhad maw2ef (in Leb maw2af).

لازم نحنا الشمل نلم وناخد موقف بشرف
laazim nə7na shshaml ənləmm w naakhod maw2af bisharrif
We have to stand together and take an honourable position!

To decide you have an issue with, to take a dislike to, etc

اخد موفق من ‪2akhad maw2ef mən/min, literally ‘take a negative stand on’.

بس لا يكون اخد مني موقف؟
bass laa ykuun 2aakhed mənni maw2ef? (S)
I just hope he hasn’t [decided he’s] got a problem with me

Get accustomed to, get comfortable in

اخد على ‪2akhad 3ala.

في حد لسا مش ماخد ع الجو
fii 7ad lissa mish maakhed 3a jjaww? (J)
Is there anyone who still isn’t used to the vibe?

Take seriously:

2akhad jadd or 2akhad bjiddiyye:

لما يكون الموضوع هبل كتير وواحد يجي ماخدو جد كتيير
… lamma ykuun ilmawDuu3 habl iktiir wwaa7ed yiji maakhdo jadd iktiir (P)
… when something’s really stupid and someone comes along who’s taking it very seriously

Dismissive خدلك, خود على

Used to be dismissive about something. For example this punchline to a joke in which a man out playing cards with his friends has been called home by his wife:

معلش شباب بس مرتي تعبانه شوي -خدلك هالحكي الفاضي كمل اللعبة وقوم . خلص مش ضايل اشي
ma3lish shabaab bass marti ta3baane shwayy / khudlak hal7aki lfaaDi kammel illa3be w2uum. khallaS mish Daayel 2ishi (P)
Sorry lads, my wife’s feeling a bit poorly. / Forget that nonsense, finish the game and then go! We’re almost done.

In Syrian خود على is more common: خود على هالحكي.

Do what you feel like (take your rest)

اخد راحتو ‪2akhad raa7to. Can be used on its own, including as a polite response to someone asking for a few moments (خود راحتك khood raa7tak ‘don’t worry about it’). But can also be used in contexts like the following:

خليه ياخد راحتو بالتفكير
khallii yaakhod raa7to bittafkiir (S)
Let him think about it at his leisure
Give him space to think [= take his rest in thinking]

بدي ياكي توخدي راحتك بالحكي
biddi_yyaaki tookhdi raa7tek bil7aki (P)
I want you to feel like you can say anything [= take your rest in talking]

Other combinations

اخدها خوش بوش ‪2akhadha khoosh boosh ‘to be familiar’
اخد احطياتات ‪2akhad i7Tiyaataat ‘take precautions’
اخد دوا ‪2akhad dawa ‘take medicine’
خود يمينك, شمالك, يسارك khood yamiinak, shmaalak, yasaarak ‘go right/left’ (take your right, your left)
خليك اخد يمينك khalliik 2aakhed yamiinak (S, L) ‘keep over to the right’

by ·Comments Off on قعد ‪2a3ad ‘sit’

Another post in our ‘verbs I might have known’ series (طلع/نزل, بدو, اجى, زبط) s about flexible, useful and common verbs that you probably know but might not realise the true power of. This week’s entry is on قعد ‪2a3ad, literally ‘sit’.

Dialects

As usual, let’s get the different dialect forms out of the way first. All dialects allow 2a3ad in the past tense, although some North Levantine speakers may have 2ə3ed instead. The present tense form for everyone has o. In North Levantine this means yə23od, and in South Levantine yu23od with the vowel harmony talked about here.

South Levantine has a regular imperative: 2u23od, -i, -u. For some North Levantine speakers the imperative is regular too (according to the NL rules): 23ood, 23ədi, 23ədu. But the hamze is usually dropped, producing the irregular form 3ood, 2ədi, 2ədu.

The maSdar is قعود ‪23uud or occasionally (for some speakers) قعدان ‪2a3adaan.

‘Sit’

The most literal meaning is ‘sit down’, from which the participle 2aa3ed means ‘sitting’:

انتو وين قاعدين؟
2intu ween 2aa3diin?
Where are you sitting?

From this we get the noun of instance قعدة ‪2a3de meaning ‘way of sitting’:

قعدتو معجبتنيش, قعدة زعران
2a3edto ma3ajbatniish. 2a3det zu3raan (P)
I didn’t like the way he was sitting [= his way of sitting]. It’s a no-good way of sitting [= a gangsters’ 2a3de]

قعدة can also mean a gathering or a face-to-face discussion (‘a sitting’):

عملنا قعدة صغيرة بالبيت
3milna 2a3de zghiire bilbeet (P)
We had a little gathering at home

هالقصة بدا قعدة
hal2əSSa bədda 2a3de (L)
This is something that needs a face-to-face discussion (needs us to sit down and talk about it)

It can also mean the atmosphere/vibe in a place (literally what it’s like to sit/hang around there):

القعدة هنيك كتير حلوة
əl2a3de huniik ktiir 7əlwe (S)
The atmosphere/vibe there is very nice

القعدة بالبيت بتزهق
il2a3de bilbeet bitzahhe2 (P)
Hanging around/sitting at home is boring

It’s very common to say قاعدين (literally ‘we’re sitting [around]’) to mean ‘we’re hanging around’ (at a place where sitting is involved):

هينا قاعدين, بس تفضى تعال
hayyna 2aa3diin. bass tifDa ta3aal (P)
We’re just hanging here. As soon as you’re done come!

لك وين رايح يا زلمة قاعدين!
lak 2ənte ween raaye7 yaa zalame 2aa3diin! (S)
Where are you going, man? We’re hanging out here!

Note also that قعد is often used to mean ‘sitting around [doing nothing]’ in combination with a 7aal:

قاعد عم يلعب بديلو
2aa3ed 3am yəl3ab bdeelo
Sitting around twiddling his thumbs [= playing with his tail] (one of various ruder alternatives)

Note also the combination with another imperative, which although literal is not idiomatic in English:

عود كول معنا
3ood kool ma3na (S)
Come and eat with us! [= to someone who’s just arrived]

The causative قعّد can of course mean ‘make/let someone sit down’:

بس فات ع المكتب قعدوه عالكرسي
bass faat 3almaktab 2a33aduu 3alkursi (P)
As soon as he came in they sat him down on the chair

It can also have a connotation of ‘kept me sitting around’:

قعدوني شي ساعة قبل ما فوتوني لعدنو
2a33aduuni nəSS saa3a 2abəlma fawwatuuni la3əndo (S)
They made me sit around for half an hour before they let me in to see him

Note the causative can have a ‘with’ meaning (like la33ab ‘play with’, 2arra ‘read with’ etc):

قومي قعدي ستك شوي
2uumi 2a33edi sittek shwayy (P)
Go and sit with your grandma for a bit

‘Stay’

Specifically, ‘stay’ in the sense of ‘a stay somewhere’:

قديش بدك تقعد بالقدس؟
2addeesh biddak tu23od bil2uds?  (P)
How long are you going to stay in Jerusalem?

انت وين قاعد بالزبط؟
2inta ween 2aa3ed bizzabT? (J)
Where are you staying exactly?

This form also has a causative meaning ‘let someone stay’, etc:

قعدناه عنا لبين ما لقى بيت
2a33adnaa 3ənna labeen ma la2a beet (S)
We let him stay with us/hosted him until he found a house

Continuous

قعد is often combined with a continuous form, especially in the participle. This should not be understood as meaning literally sitting:

قاعدين عم يقصفو المدن
2aa3diin 3am yə2Səfu lmədon (S)
They’re bombarding the cities [= sitting and bombarding]

قاعد عم احكي مع حيط انا
2aa3ed 3am 2a7ki ma3 7eeT 2ana (P)
It’s like I’m talking to a brick wall [= I’m sitting talking to…]

‘Go around Xing’

Used as an auxiliary قعد can also imply repeated but also unreasonable action:

يلي بصلي الجمعة ويلي بصلي الاحد قاعد يفلح فينا على طول الجمعة
yalli biSalli jjəm3a wyalli biSalli l2a7ad 2aa3ed yəfla7 fiina 3ala Tool əjjəm3a (L)
The ones who pray on Friday and the ones who pray on Sunday give us a hard time all week long

تقعدش تتطلب
tu23udesh tiTTallab! (P)
Don’t go around demanding things!

Expressions

قاعد لا شغلة ولا عملة ‪2aa3ed laa shaghle wala 3amle ‘sitting around with nothing to do’

الدنيا قايمة قاعدة iddunya/əddənye 2aayme 2aa3de ‘everything’s very chaotic’

قامت القيامة وما قعدت ‪2aamet/2aamat li2yaame w maa 2a3det/2a3dat ‘absolute chaos broke out’

by ·1 Comment

shubiddakFor the latest instalment in our ‘verbs I might have known’ series, we’ll be discussing another one of those words you almost certainly know in at least one or two meanings, but which you might not realise the real flexibility and utility of. This time, we’re talking about the humble Levantine word for ‘want’: بدـ. The word for ‘want’ is one of the first things you learn in any dialect, and one of the common words that is usually cited to demonstrate how diverse dialects can be (‘in Egypt they say عايز!’) We’ll cover that sense briefly in this post for comprehensiveness, but mostly this will be about other meanings you might not be familiar with.

Dialects

As usual, let’s get the different regional forms out of the way. Palestinians and Jordanians typically have straightforward bidd-. Syrians and many Lebanese speakers have bədd-, which is pronounced very similarly to bidd–. The characteristically ‘Lebanese’ form, however, is badd- (also used by many coastal Syrian speakers).

It’s a pseudoverb, suckers

The more pedantic among you might already be working up to point out that بدـ is not, strictly speaking, a verb. This is, strictly speaking, true. Etymologically it’s a preposition + noun combination (بودي bi-waddi ‘[it is] in my desire’) and structurally speaking it marks its subject using possessive pronouns. It can’t take object suffixes directly (it has to use the carrier yaa-), and of course it has no tense forms of its own.

However, in all other respects بدـ acts like a verb. It can’t appear without an attached pronoun marking its subject. It appears generally in the same place as verbs in most structures. And although it’s true that it can’t be itself modified for tense, it can be placed into any tense you want with كان kaan. For some speakers this كان is always in the third person (كان بدي kaan biddi) as you might expect given the etymology, but for lots of speakers it changes along with the person subject (كنت بدي kunt/kənt biddi/bəddi).

Want

The most well-known use of بدـ is to mean ‘want’:

بدي واحد جديد
bəddi waa7ed @jdiid
I want a new one

Note with b-:

شو بدك في؟
shu baddak fii?
What do you want with it?

And with من:

شو بدك مني؟
shu biddak minni?
What do you want from me?

As well as its obvious use with nouns, it can be used with a subjunctive verb to mean ‘I want to…’:

بدي انزل كزدر ع بيروت ع ضهر الجمل
baddi 2ənzel kazder 3a beyruut 3a Dahr @jjamal (L)
I want to go and ride around Beirut on a camel

بدي اشوفك بكرا
biddi 2ashuufak bukra (J)
I want to see you tomorrow

The usual structure for ‘I want X to…’ is as follows: bidd-, plus a noun or an object on the carrier yaa-, plus a subjunctive:

بدي ياك تجي معي
bəddi yaak təji ma3i (S)
I want you to come with me

بدي احمد يصلحلي المواسير
biddi 2a7mad ySalli7li lmawasiir (P)
I want Ahmad to fix the pipes for me

Need

In all Levantine dialects بد can also express need. The most universal structure for this is similar to the English ‘needs fixing’, with a maSdar:

جوازي بدو تجديد
jawaazi bəddo tajdiid (S)
My passport needs renewing

المواسير بدها تزبيط
ilmawasiir biddha tazbiiT (J)
The pipes need fixing

صار بدها سيكارة
Saar biddha sigaara (J)
It’s time for a cigarette [= (the situation, the evening) needs a cigarette)

NL speakers use it more broadly, in constructions like the following:

بدي جدد جوازي
bəddi jaddid jawEEzi (L)
‘I need to renew my passport

Advice, exhortation

A more specialised use with the second person is used in all dialects for moral exhortations, advice etc. This overlaps both with ‘need’, ‘want’ and with the future sense discussed below:

بدك تزبظلت لهجتك
bəddak @tzabbəTli lah@jtak
You need to check your tone/stop talking to me in that tone [= fix your tone] (S)

بدكاش تبطل هالعادة؟
biddkaash itbaTTel hal3aade? (P)
Aren’t you going to stop doing this?

Must, have to, have got to be, should

بد can also mean ‘must’, ‘has to’ etc in contexts like the following:

يلي بدو يفتح الماضي بدو يكون قدّا
yalli baddo yəfta7 @lmaaDi baddo ykuun 2adda (L)
If you want to open up the past you have to be up to the task [= he who wants to… wants to be…]

شو بدي اسوي هلأ؟
shuu biddi 2asawwi halla2? (P)
What should I do now?

Going to, about to

بدو can also be used in a way entirely synonymous with the future senses of the prefix رح ra7 (and all its variants), i.e. to express pre-established planned or scheduled action (i.e. prior to the conversation), or to mean ‘about to’:

بدي اشوفو بكرا وقتيها بحكيلو
biddi 2ashuufo bukra wa2tiiha ba7kiilo (P)
I’m going to see him tomorrow, I’ll tell him then

في زر بدو يوقع من قميصك
fii zərr bəddo yuu2a3 mən 2amiiSak (S)
There’s a button falling off your shirt [= about to fall]

Must be, must have been

بدو can also be used to draw inferences about the world in the same way as English ‘must’ or the alternative structure بكون:

قديش هلقلب بدو يكون قوي ليتحمل هبلنتك
2addeesh hal2alb bəddo ykuun 2awi la-yət7ammal hablantak (S)
How strong this heart must be that it can cope with your stupid behaviour!

 بدو يكون bəddo/biddo ykuun plus a past can by extension be used to express ‘I must have’ in a way more or less synonymous with the more common structure with بكون:

بدي كون غفيت
bəddi kuun @ghfiit (S)
I must have fallen asleep

Likewise, بدو sometimes appears in the result clause of conditionals. This shouldn’t necessarily be read as ‘want’ (‘I would have wanted to be…’):

لو ما صرت مطربة كنت بدي كون بالجيش
law maa Sər@t muT@rbe kənt baddi kuun bijjaysh
If I hadn’t become a singer I would have been in the army

by ·Comments Off on اجى ‘to come’ (and its various usages)

This is a post about the verb اجى (from fuSHa جاء), which you almost certainly know in the literal sense since it’s such core vocabulary. You might not realise quite how useful this verb can be, though – and that’s why we’ve chosen it to be the next instalment of our verbs I might have known series (see also Təle3/nəzel, zabaT, and this post about useful -aan participles).

Too many dialects

Let’s get the dialect questions out of the way first. This is an irregular verb (more or less) in all Levantine dialects. To avoid repeating ourselves and to save space from being taken up by ugly tables, if you want to know the full conjugation the North Levantine forms can be found here. The South Levantine forms can be found in the PDF on South Levantine verbs. There are no major differences between the Lebanese and Syrian forms or between the Jordanian and Palestinian forms. The main differences between the North and South forms are:

  • The alif-hamze beginning all forms (which may be dropped when not stressed) carries a fat7a (i.e. it’s 2a) in South Levantine while in North Levantine the vowel is an ə, pronounced here close to i: 2əja, (2ə)jiina.
  • The present tense forms either have a consistent long ii (2ana biiji, inte btiiji…) or a consistent short ə (bəji, btəji) in North Levantine, while in South Levantine the first person singular form has an aa (baaji) in keeping with the normal conjugation of verbs in the south.
  • In the North (or at least in Syria) the participle is consistently jaaye, whether masculine or feminine. In the South, it’s consistently jaay.

Literal usages

With that out of the way, let’s talk about usage. There’s obviously the literal usage ‘to come’:

اجى لعندي اليوم الصبح
2əja la-3əndi lyoom @SSəb@7 (S)
He came to my house [or to see me, etc] this morning

By extension, اجى is very often an idiomatic equivalent of ‘be here’ or ‘get there’ in sentences like the following (maybe a nice literal translation is ‘arrive’):

بس تيجي خبرني
bass tiiji khabbirni (P)
As soon as you get here let me know

الاستاذ ما اجى اليوم
@l2əstaaz maa 2əja lyoom (S)
Mr [Karim] isn’t here today

As with other verbs of motion اجى can be combined with a subjunctive to express movement plus purpose (‘came to see…’). This is pretty straightforward but it’s worth noting the nice idiomatic way of saying ‘I’m here to…’:

انا جايه شوف الاستاذ طاهر
2ana jaaye shuuf Taaher
I’m here to see Taher

You can use the noun of instance jayye + ‘here is’ to mean ‘I’m just on my way back from’, ‘I’ve just come back from’ (‘here is my coming from’):

هاي جيتي من المحافظة
hayy jayyti mn @lmu7aafaZa (S)
I’ve just got back from the Provincial Government (offices)

Note that it’s not very idiomatic to ask ‘where do you come from’ in Arabic using the verb اجى, which is best asked with a simple انت منين or just منين, من وين؟ Here are a few of the possible interpretations of the sentences you might (mistakenly) use to try and express this idea:

من وين جاي؟
min ween jaay? (P)
Where’ve you been?
Where are you coming from?
Where are you on your way back from?

بتجي من وين؟
btəji mən ween? (S)
Where does it come (in) from? (e.g. where is it imported from)
Which direction do you come from? Which way do you come? (mən ween = from where = which way, see mən here)

End up in, get on etc

There are quite a few contexts in which اجى expresses more or less the same meaning (of movement) but where ‘come’ is not idiomatic in English. Usually ‘get onto’ or ‘end up in’ covers these:

منيح ما اجت الرصاصة بعينو
mnii7 maa 2əjet l@rSaaSa b3eeno (L)
It’s good the bullet didn’t go in/end up in his eye

اجت المي ع الورقة
2ajat ilmayy 3alwaraga (J)
The water got onto/went on the paper

Get, have

In a very limited sense of get or have – i.e. usually ‘experience’ – اجى often appears in a meaning that is pretty straightforward to understand:

بتجيني نوبات هلع
btijiini nobaat hala3 (J)
I get panic attacks [panic attacks come to me]

الله وحدو بيعلم شو ممكن تجيني أحاسيس و مشاعير
2aLLa wa7do byə3lem shuu məmken təjiini 2a7asiis w masha3iir (S)
only God knows what feelings I might have [= what can come to me (by way of) feelings and feelings]

Note also the sense of ‘receive’, also fairly transparent from the meaning of the verb:

اجاني سكري من حلاوة شوفتك
2əjaani səkkari mən @7leewet shooftek (L)
I got diabetes from how pretty you look [حلاوة = beauty, sweetness – from how ‘sweet’ you look diabetes came to me]

اجتني رسالة من بويا
2ajatni risaale min buuya (J)
I got a message from my dad [= a message from my dad came to me]

About to

اجى can also mean ‘about to’ when used with a subjunctive verb (sometimes combined with la- in Syrian):

جيت اوقع
jiit 2awqe3 (P)
I almost fell, I was about to fall

كنت جايه احكي نفس الحكي
kənt jaaye 2ə7ki nafs @l7aki (L)
I was about to say the same thing! [= I was coming to talk the same talk]

كل ما اجي لإحكي معو بخجل بأجلها لبعدين
kəll ma 2əji la-2ə7ki ma3o bəkhjal b2ajjəla la-ba3deen
Whenever I’m about to (I come to talk) to him I get embarrassed and put it off

Be approximately

اجى is often used to express ‘comes to about’ or ‘is about’:

بجي شي تلاتين ليرة
bəji shi tlaatiin leera
It’d be about 30 lira

Judging an action

اجى also has another nice idiomatic use expressing a value judgement of the action on the part of the speaker. It often expresses that the speaker thinks that the action is unacceptable, presumptuous or brazen:

جيل كامب دافيد اللى شاف الحريه ع ايام جيل 93 جاى يحكم علينا بالاعدام علشان عرفناه طريق الحريه والثورات
jiil kaamb daafiid illi shaaf il7urriyye 3a2iyyaam jiil ittlaate wtis3iin jaay yi7kom 3aleena bil2i3daam 3ashaan 3arrafnaa Tarii2 il7urriyye w@ththawraat (P)
The Camp David generation, who got to experience [saw] freedom, in the days of the generation of 93 have the gall to condemn us to death because we introduced them to the path of freedom and revolutions

هلق جايه تصالح هلق؟
halla2 jaayi tSaale7 halla2? (L)
Oh, now you want to make up? [= coming to make up now] (i.e. it’s too late)

Expressions

Note also the following expressions:

اجى على ‪2əja, 2aja 3ala ‘to fit’ (of clothes)
بتجي بمعنى btəji, btiiji bma3na ‘it means’
بروح وبجي biruu7 w biji ‘comes and goes’ (note the opposite order to English)
الكلمة بتجي لحالها ilkilme btiiji la7aalha, @lkəlme btəji la7aala ‘the word comes on its own’
بتجي ظرف طويل btəji, btiiji Zarf Tawiil ‘it comes as a big envelope’
حمدالله اجت بالحديد ‪7amdilla 2əjet bil7adiid (also mar2et) ‘thank God, only the car was damaged’ [= it happened to the metal, when talking about a car accident]
اجى ع بالي, جاي ع بالي ‪2əja/2aja, jaay(e) 3a baali ‘feel like’ (see this post for more)