Russian, like English, is full of borrowed words. You can open up any page of the cheapest dictionary to find them. From the technical "Gidroturbina" or "Hydroturbine" to the cultural "Avangard" or "Avant-garde," and including fad jargon like "Pirsing," to mean the practice of punching studs and rings into the pink parts of one's body. Sometimes the meaning transfers neatly and sometimes it takes a sharp left turn. For example, the word "Internat" refers to a children's home, but there's nothing international about the orphans or handicapped kids who live there. Other times, the borrowed term is restricted to the narrow field that it became popular in. For instance, in Russian, the English word "start" refers to rocket launches and the place where runners line up before a race. Most recently, at least in Kyiv, it's become the brand of a crunchy, sweet cereal. It can't, however, be used to simply indicate "the beginning" of an ordinary action.
Often the borrowed words come from French, German and (especially of late) English. Although a healthy dose of Tatar (or Turkic) terms are well ingrained in the lexicon. Quite a few Latin roots take on Russian suffixes: e.g., aviation becomes "aviatsiya". Oddest of all is how Russian manages to preserve several words, foreign and native, simultaneously. The best example here is in government, where we not only find the Slavic upravleniye (directorate) and otdel (department) but also committee, bureau, department and apparently the name of every other foreign administrative office that ever crossed the path of the people in Kyiv and Moscow, who proudly replant these terms at home. And it's not just officialdom that's to blame. Russian and Ukrainian entrepreneurs seem loath to give a Slavic sounding name to their companies and products. Why call your orange drink "Gospodin Sok" when you can name it "Mister Juice?" Why use an ordinary Russian word when you can sound hip by throwing out the latest American slang? Why speak your own language at all?
Nor a Lender Be
Does Russian lend any words to English? Of course it does little Johnny. We have "gulag," which you can read more about at your school library; then there is "samovar," which you can look up in the encyclopedia while you're at the library; and how about "vodka," which your librarian keeps in the lower left-hand drawer of her desk?
Are there any others? Yes, but you may not recognize them. "Bistro" supposedly has its origins in Paris, and the word looks like a dead ringer for a French pronunciation of the Russian term for "quickly." Some say it took root as a result of Russian military occupation during the Napoleonic Wars. According to this theory, hungry Cossacks weren't impressed by the speed of French cafe service and shouted "Bystro," (or hurry up) until it stuck.
Did you know that the word for English "Bum," in the sense of a vagrant, is "Bomzh" in Russian? If you did, you probably didn't know that "Bomzh" is an acronym, which spells out "Bez Opredelennogo Mesta Zhitelstva" or "Without a Specific Place of Residence." Unless the acronym was created after the word was borrowed, which is highly unlikely, this is another linguistic delight that we owe to our Slavic cousins. Moreover, as with "Bistro," the etymology here is unclear. Now the only question is whether expatriates of yore were called this and took it back home with them, or Russian speakers excelled as homeless people.
Another interesting one is the word "Slav" itself. Add an "e" and you get "slave." This one is pretty well linguistically founded, but relates to the Slavic tribes of the Balkans. For those of our non-Slavic readers who at this point are feeling pretty superior, keep in mind that the Turks recruited their most elite troops from the largely Slavic populations of South-East Europe. Enslavement of fellow Muslims was forbidden, so stout boys from the Orthodox corner of the empire were selected to a life of military service that turned them into the most formidable force of their time. Some slaves of the Sultan rose to high position and even formed their own dynasties in Egypt.
How about the phrase "mealy mouthed?" This one refers to a person who doesn't have the gumption to call a spade a spade. The linguistic evidence is weak here, but it's hard to see the connection between English "mealy," which means powdery like flour, and spineless courtesy. On the other hand, Russian "mily" means "sweet," often with a condescending overtone. It's either an immigrant thing or just a coincidence.
So, little Johnny, learn your Russian and learn about life. If not, if you prefer to tease your younger sister and feed your asparagus to the dog. If you talk back to the teacher and tell everyone the librarian is a drunk, people will call you a little "brat," which in Russian, by the way, simply means brother - without the 'homeboy' connotation the word has in the Unated States.
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