Expressions of Gender in the Altaic World: Proceedings of the 56th Meeting of the Permanent International Altaic Conference (Piac) 3110748878, 9783110748871

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Expressions of Gender in the Altaic World

Studien zur Sprache, Geschichte und Kultur der Turkvölker

Edited by Pál Fodor

Volume 31

Expressions of Gender in the Altaic World Proceedings of the 56th Annual Meeting of the Permanent International Altaistic Conference (PIAC), Kocaeli, Turkey, July 7–12, 2013 Edited by Münevver Tekcan and Oliver Corff

ISBN 978-3-11-074862-8 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-074878-9 e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-074887-1 Library of Congress Control Number: 2021937221 Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2021 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Cover image: Marco Polo’s caravan on the silk road. Painting by Abraham Cresques, 1375, Catalan Atlas. Source: Gallica Digital Library ID btv1b55002481n Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck www.degruyter.com

In memoriam: Albina Girfanova Roger Finch Claus Schönig Gerd Winkelhane

Preface The 56th Annual Meeting of the Permanent International Altaistic Conference was held under the presidency of Professor Münevver Tekcan, and was hosted by The Kocaeli University Women’s Study Centre, Kocaeli, Turkey, from July 7 to 12, 2013. The organizers gratefully appreciate the generous support offered by Kocaeli University. 54 participants from 13 countries joined the Meeting: 12 from Russia, 9 from Germany, 4 from the U.S.A., 6 from China, 4 from Hungary, 3 from France, 4 from Turkey, 2 from Japan, 3 from Taiwan, 2 from Austria, and colleagues from Turkmenistan, Italy and Norway. The Indiana University Prize for Altaic Studies was awarded to Professor Hartmut Walravens. At the business meeting, it was announced that Gerd Winkelhane would publish the proceedings of this Meeting. Sadly, Gerd has since passed away, but most fortunately his publishing commitment is honoured by De Gruyter, the publishing house which has acquired the Klaus Schwarz Verlag, part of the estate of Gerd Winkelhane. Besides Gerd Winkelhane, we mourn the loss of three colleagues who had participated in the 56th Meeting: Albina Girfanova (St. Petersburg), Roger Finch (Cape Neddick, Maine) and Claus Schönig (Berlin). All four have been outstanding contributors to Altaic Studies und Turkology, be it as publishers, scholars or teachers. This volume of proceedings is thus dedicated to them. This volume contains those papers presented at the meeting whose subjects fall within the general theme “Expressions of Gender in the Altaic World”. A number of papers presented at the conference were not received for publication. The editors are most grateful to Yusuf Gürcan Şahin who patiently and competently formatted the papers.

June 2021, Kocaeli and Berlin Münevver Tekcan and Oliver Corff.

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-202

Contents Preface

VII

Zoya Anayban Gender Aspects of Adaption to Contemporary Socioeconomic Conditions in 1 Southern Siberia Liubov’ D. Badmaeva Feminine Designations in the Buryat Language

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Christine Bell Ceremonial Attire of the Oracle Priest Sungma Balung chö je

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Elena Boykova The General and Gender Factor in the Upbringing of Children in Mongolia

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Alicia Campi Historical to Contemporary Mongolian Experience with Female Political 29 Activism Oliver Corff Gender, Sex and Symmetry: Matters and Modes of Expression in an 18th Century Multilingual Dictionary 39 Bair Dugarov and Esuna Dugarova The Image of Alan-goa — the Foremother of Genghis Khan

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Roger Finch (1937–2019) Gender Distinctions in Nouns and Pronouns of the Altaic Languages

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Albina Girfanova (1957–2018) Gender Features of the Kinship System and Terminology Among the Udeghe Abdurrahman Gülbeyaz The Universal and the Language-Specific in the Construction of Gender: A Comparative Semiotic Study 91 Barbara Kellner-Heinkele Women in Abu l-Ghazi Bahadur Khan’s Shajara-i Turk

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Satoshi Kubo Language that soils and injures ‘namus’: Reading and comprehending ‘namus’ as a speech act

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Jacques Legrand Is Language “Gender” Related With “Sex”? (The Case of Mongolian, a Language 131 without Gender) Liu Ge Turpan Non-free Women in the Perspective of Addressing Female Slaves in the Era of the Mongol and Yuan Dynasty (Research on Uyghur documents Unearthed in Turpan) 141 Benedek Péri The Gender of the Beloved in One of Bayrâm Khan’s Chaghatay Gazels Katharina Sabernig Gender Related Symptoms in Tibetan Medical Practice

161

Serpil Yazıcı Şahin Terms of Female Kinship in Modern Uighur and Uzbek

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Giovanni Stary Male Name-giving Principles of the Sibe People in Xinjiang

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Kinga Szálkai Women and Soviet Acculturation in Central Asia before the Second World War 197 Münevver Tekcan Gender Projection/Perception in the Babur-nāma Litip Tohti Gender Expressions in Uyghur

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Hartmut Walravens Sexual life of the Manchus — Literary Sources

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Zoya Anayban

Gender Aspects of Adaption to Contemporary Socioeconomic Conditions in Southern Siberia This paper investigates the adaptation level and adaptive behavior of basic ethnic groups in the Republic of Tuva and the Republic of Khakassia towards the contemporary social-economic situation. In this regard we have paid special attention to the degree of similarity and differences in the adaptation processes among men and women — the titular national representatives of these republics. The work is based on the results of the ethno-sociological survey “The population of Tuva and Khakassia today”, which was carried out in these republics in 2011;1 and we used materials from the 2006 ethno-sociological survey within the framework of the project “The problems of adaption of the population of Southern Siberia to new conditions of life.”2 The selection included 1200 representatives of the titular nations (700 people from Tuva and 500 from Khakassia, townspeople and rural residents), who were interviewed in 2011. There are many reasons why the gender approach to adaptation is important. The wide-scale socioeconomic and political transformation of the 1990s affected Russian women in all aspects of their activities: socioeconomic, sociopolitical and familial. In relation to the adaptation of Tuvan and Khakassian women to contemporary living conditions, we shall focus on the most important aspect, namely, the socioeconomic one. The materials of the survey show that a significant share of the population feels more or less optimistic despite existing social hardships. In particular, the women in both Khakassia and Tuva appear to be more patient and ready to bear the difficulties of the transitional period, whereas the men appear to be more adjusted and more “integrated” into everyday life. When asked what phrase would correlate the fullest with their perception of contemporary life, over half of the respondents in both of the republics said that it would be the one that says “life is hard but tolerable” (55% of the men and 69% of the women). About one-third of the men (33%) and about one-fourth of the women (24%) were of the opinion that “things are not that bad, and will be better still in a short while”. Only 12% of the men and 7% of the women were convinced that “it is quite impossible to bear our hardships”.

1 Results of the ethno-sociological survey “The population of Tuva and Khakassia today” (2011). 2 Results of the ethno-sociological survey within the framework of the project “The problems of adaption of the population of Southern Siberia to new conditions of life” (2006). Zoya Anayban, Senior Researcher, Department of History of the Orient, Institute of Oriental Studies, Russian Academy of Sciences, Moscow https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-001

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The data of similar polls in earlier years shows that not so long ago many aspects of our necessitous social existence evoked a more painful response. For instance, in 2006 the share of people who felt dissatisfied with the socioeconomic sphere and with their social position was much higher.3 Out of the options suggested for the most attractive aspects of present-day life, men and women most often chose “no deficit of goods and services” (66% and 74% of the respondents), as well as support and development of national languages and cultures (approximately every third respondent). “The development of market relations” was marked as an attractive factor of present-day life by 15% of the men and 10% of the women. The above data is a certain indicator of the extent to which the population of the republic adapts to the current conditions, accepts the norms of contemporary life and is ready to adapt to them. Even though few of the respondents named the development of market relations as a positive aspect, the lack of deficit that over one-half of the respondents considered to be a positive factor should be seen as a potential for growth of a positive attitude towards socioeconomic transformations. Among the important factors that could help people to adjust themselves more easily to the new living conditions are active participation in market relations and a positive attitude to market transformations. The study shows that the majority of the respondents in the two ethnic groups see the system of market economy as positive. A negative attitude to the market is more often seen in women of an older age. It is quite natural that the market, with its rigorous laws and orientation towards one’s own resources, is accepted first and foremost by the stronger, and also by those who are closer to the authorities and to material resources, and men commonly comprise the majority in this group. Even though market transformations have been going on for quite some time, the people who have managed to fully adapt to the market economy comprise a relative minority. “I have already adapted myself to the market” or “I shall certainly adapt myself” are responses that few women have given. For instance, in Khakassia the number of women who gave the above responses is one and a half times less than that of the men. Conversely, there are many more women among those who think they would “hardly manage adapting themselves to market relations”. When speaking about what they considered to be the worst thing about their jobs, the men and the women from the two republics mentioned low wages first and foremost. The share of the women who were dissatisfied with their salaries was higher than that of the men (42% versus 35%). It is not by chance that about a third of the women interviewed in Tuva (31%) and a quarter of those interviewed in Khakassia (25%) admitted that they could only afford to buy foodstuffs and other basic necessities, whereas 10% of the women in both the groups admitted to not having enough

3 Ibid.

Gender Aspects of Adaption

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money for the basic necessities, foodstuffs included. Those who said they could “afford whatever they might wish for” comprised only 5%. Unemployment is an especially acute issue for women in the two regions. Women comprise 60% of the overall number of those unemployed in Khakassia and 65% in Tuva. The average age of unemployed women is 40 years, that is the age of intense self-realization.4 The degree to which the people are satisfied with their economic circumstances can serve as a certain barometer which can help identify the extent to which they are adapting themselves to the environment, and remains at present at an extremely low level. The poll shows that the overwhelming majority of people from the two ethnic groups are not satisfied with their economic circumstances, whereas those who are, to a certain extent, comprise a mere one-fifth (about 20%–22% of Tuvans and Khakassians). As was to be expected, many more women than men characterized their material circumstances as troubled. For example, 28% of the women in Khakassia and 25% in Tuva are “totally dissatisfied” with their circumstances. Thus, gender analysis of the adaptation to socioeconomic changes in Tuva and Khakassia has revealed that in both the republics women on the whole find it harder and more painful to adapt themselves to the new factors of life than men do. The reason for that lies to a large extent in the conditions they had at the outset: the social niche occupied by women in Soviet times lacked prestigious jobs and consequently involved smaller salaries than those available to men. The psychological factor also played its role in this particular case, since women are generally less inclined to innovations and experimentation, and Eastern women in particular. At the same time we may state that despite all the hardships, women are trying to adapt themselves and demonstrate a readiness to participate in market relations. The important thing at the present stage is that the overwhelming majority of both men and women are oriented towards adapting themselves and overcoming the social issues. The study of gender specifics in the adaptation of urban residents showed that, on the one hand, in both the republics women adapt themselves to transformational processes less actively and less easily than men do. On the other hand, in many aspects of adaptation women demonstrate more loyalty than men do. According to our investigation, the adaptation level of the populations of Tuva and Khakassia towards the social and economic transformations has turned out to be relatively low and determined by many objective and subjective factors. The important point is that a significant part of the residents in both these republics has realized the necessity and the inevitability of accepting the “new life rules”. Therefore the population shows certain activity and mobility and makes attempts to adapt to the circumstances in some way and to survive. In this situation, first of all they rely on themselves, on their own forces and abilities. It is no coincidence that recently men

4 Data from the Employment Department of the Republic of Tuva and the Republic of Khakassia.

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and women equally from these republics have shown a growing interest in having an education and a wish to get a higher social and professional status.

Liubov’ D. Badmaeva

Feminine Designations in the Buryat Language This paper represents an attempt to provide an empirical analysis of words in the Buryat language (BL) that designate femininity. These words have been classified into the synonymic groupings presented below. Appropriately selected words comprising 142 units were then taken from these lexical groupings. We sourced our material from Buryat dictionaries1 and the Buryat Corpus website (BC)2 . The main or compromise meanings of the synonymic groupings are as follows: – ekhe, ezhy — mother, mom; – khadam ezhy, khadam ekhe — mother-in-law; – ekhener, hamgan, eme, emegtei, gergen, bühegüi, hanshagta, nükher, khani — woman, wife; – basagan, düü basagan, khüükhen, ükhin, düükhei, abkhai (dialectal), dangina (folklore), odkhon dangina (dialectal) — girl, young lady, daughter, sister, beauty, fairy, enchantress (in fairy tales), younger daughter; – khügshen, khügshen ezhy, töödei, khügshöö, khügshöödei, ütelhen, nahatai, nahazhaal — grandmother, old woman; – khatan, noyonoi khatan, khatan khaan, khatan abgai — queen, princess, lady, the wife of a lord/ruler. The Buryat corpus in its initial version includes belles-lettres style texts comprising over 1,800,000 words. The frequency characteristics of feminine designations in the Buryat language were analyzed as follows: the most frequent designations, the least frequent designations, as well as their stylistic characteristics, positive and negative characteristics of females in Buryat culture, all based on the language data. It should be noted that the frequency characteristics identified are based on the Grammar Dictionary volume (GD) of the BC initial version. The contents of the GD include the frequency of word-forms (not lexemes) with an application index of 50. While lemmatizing these word-forms, respectively, the index for one particular word-form from the first version of the BC GD increases. In view of the given content, not all the above mentioned feminine designations have been included in the above GD. Also, it is worth not1 Shagdarov and Cheremisov (2006, 2008), Dugarov (1995), Shagdarov and Ochirov (2008). 2 Buryat corpus. Liubov’ D. Badmaeva, Institute for Mongolian, Buddhist and Tibetan Studies, Siberian Branch, Russian Academy of Sciences, Ulan-Ude, Russia. This work was supported by grants under the Corpus Linguistics Program of Fundamental Research of the Presidium of the Russian Academy of Sciences (http://www.corpling-ran.ru/), No. 3.4, Foundation of Fundamental Linguistics Research (http://www.ffli.ru/indexe.html), No. C-16. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-002

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ing that for purposes of our paper we analyzed the frequency characteristics according to the BC based on the preliminary material, proceeding from 300 contexts per unit as the semantic and syntactic tagging of the BC, in general is eventually expected. Cases with lower frequency approximating the index of 300 cases are manually workable. Thus, all the initial 300 contexts of more than 140 word-forms designating females in the BL are manually processed as per the BC. While analyzing the first 300 contexts, only the words with the target meaning are recorded. Cases when words are used with meanings different from the area under question are considered outside our scope. For example, the frequency of the word ekhe, meaning ‘mother (of a person)’, totals 224. In other cases of its use, the given word either changes its meaning or converts into another part of speech, for example, into an adjective. This word, along with the meaning ‘mother’, has some other connotations (the meanings are given as per the BC contexts), for instance: (in compound words) ‘motherland’ ekhe SSSR ‘mother+the USSR’, ekhe Rossi ‘mother+Russia’), ‘birthplace’ (ekhe nyutag ‘mother+birthplace’); ‘dam’ (for animals; c.f. English: ewe, sow, queen bee); ‘land’ (gazar ekhe ‘earth+mother’); (in the compound word) water resources (ekhe Volga ‘mother Volga’); (in compound words) Buddhist designations of divinities and living beings (e.g. Dara ekhe Goddess Tara, literally ‘Tara+mother’). Meanings which fall beyond our area of interest are not included in our analysis. Also, we do not consider compound words with ekhe meaning ‘parents’, like ekhe esege, literally ‘mother+father’. Our selection of feminine designations in the BL allowed us to form an appropriate word-list with frequency indices and to conduct a paradigmatic classification on the semantics of each vocabulary unit. The paradigmatic classification of the lexical material enables its allocation across thematic sections, synonymic series, distinguishing semantic oppositions within one thematic group (for example, young / old). Out of 142 designations not recorded in the BC texts, 22 units turned out to have zero frequency. This fact may be due to several reasons. We mentioned above the first reason, speaking about the most frequent word-forms of the GD. The next reason is because some words are used in specific texts, for example, the folklore ones (lusuud khüükhen ‘water nymph’). The third reason may be due to the fact that some words are dialectical, for example, abga ezy ‘paternal aunt’, nagasa baabai ‘maternal grandfather’, which is why they are rarely used in literary texts. The word ezhy ‘mother’ is the most frequent one. In the first 300 contexts it is used in its direct meaning. Regarding this word, one may add that its diminutive / hypocoristic form is not found in the BC, as for example English mummy, mom. Thus, the initial analysis of the first 300 contexts as per the BC regarding ezhy shows the lack of other connotations different from the meaning ‘mom’; the semantics of the given word remains invariable and does not deviate semantically, like, for example, the word ekhe. Further, while analyzing the paradigmatic relations of all 142 words, we have distinguished the following thematic sections:

Feminine Designations in the Buryat Language

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1. 2. 3. 4.

Kinship terms — 40 units; Age-related lexicon — 19 units; Common lexicon indicating the feminine gender — 5 units; Special terminology with sub-sections, total — 50 : shamanistic — 5 units; professional — 33 units; ethnonym — 7 units; title — 7 units; 5. Words describing moral qualities and appearances — 1 and 3 respectively, total — 4 units; 6. Words signifying social relations, total — 10: a) love (emotional) — 2 units, b) friendly — 3 units, c) neighbourly — 2 units, d) words about visitors — 2 units, e) words with a disrespectful (derogatory) attitude towards women — 1 unit; 7. Words of folklore and dialect style — 6 units; 8. Words about social status — 3 units. In total, there are eight sections differentiating females in the BL. Although the majority of the words under discussion imply the gender of the person in question, nevertheless, there are words which do not directly indicate the gender of the person referred to. Such words total 10 units. Although all words are allocated by thematic section, one cannot say that these word classes do not overlap. For example, the word from list item 6.e) can form a stylistic section. In this case, the word would become an element of a lower (vernacular) style. Below, the specificity or possibility of further word-splitting within a particular section can be considered. For example, kinship terms can represent here the female line of intricate family or kin relations, in this case without the male line. The lexicon from the age-related section can be grouped further according to the female age categories into four age-related subgroups: childhood, girlhood, adulthood, and old age. The lexicon designating females by occupation includes specialist areas, profession, and training. In this group the following may be distinguished: a) specialist areas — dairy-woman, doctor, cattle-farmer, calf-woman, agronomist, teacher, anchorwoman, fisherwoman, movie technician, train hostess, cook, registered nurse, sheepshearer, shepherd, driver; b) position: receptionist, senior physician, duty officer, supply manager, captain, secretary, watchman; c) student — schoolgirl. Altogether, 15 different disciplines are distinguished, which may be grouped paradigmatically, or otherwise compared vertically. The next grouping comprises the following: agricultural workers (dairy-woman, cattle-farmer, calf-woman, agronomist, sheepshearer, shepherd); health professionals (doctor, senior physician, registered nurse, nurse), military (captain), clerical workers (secretary), executives (manager), guards (duty officer), materially-responsible employees (supply manager). Additionally further splitting within these subgroups is possible, for example, by age. Such a subdivision allows, for example, groups of middle-aged (mature) and old (elderly) dairy-women to be formed.

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Among the words indicating a person’s ethnic affiliation there are the following designations in the BC: Buryat woman, Russian woman, Tatar woman, Kazakh woman. While classifying paradigmatically, one should not ignore the relations of synonyms and antonyms, if any. Splitting the above into larger sections of the thematic sections allows one to form / add the synonymic groupings throughout the entire lexical material. An analysis of the synonymic relations enabled a differentiation of words within the class of kinship terms into 11 groups of various kin relations. However, 7 designations are left outside this classification due to their absence in dictionaries. It is assumed that it is possible to define them more correctly based on translations of source texts into other languages (many texts of BC are translated into Russian and Mongolian). At the top of the lists of these groups there are such designations as root words: mother, daughter, granddaughter, sister3 , paternal aunt, maternal aunt, daughter-inlaw, husband’s mother-in-law, and wife’s mother-in-law, husband’s elder sister, aunt by marriage. New subdivisions are distinguished in five of these 11 groups. At the top of the lists of these subdivisions there are such designations as younger daughter, paternal grandmother and maternal grandmother, granddaughter as son’s daughter and granddaughter as daughter’s daughter, elder sister, younger sister, paternal aunts and maternal aunts, and elder brother’s wife. Based on this review, it is not possible in our material to distinguish antonyms in their classical understanding. Nevertheless, we can single out elements of semantic opposition relying on the age-related characteristics in these designations under discussion, as mentioned above. The analysis of the entire scope of the lexical group allows us to distinguish oppositions concerning the age of the designated individuals, in our case, the beyond binary or beyond ternary ones: childhood — 1 word, girlhood — 37 words, adulthood — 31 words, and old age — 25 words. The meaning of other words in the group is neutral with regard to age. It is also possible to distinguish designations with positive and negative meanings. As a result, out of 142 units there are only three words with a scornful meaning towards women: gergen (wife, woman, shrew) — 72, hamgan 54 and eme — 73. The first word has, in its proper sense, a derogatory meaning; the other two are more neutral. Their meaning explains the low indices of their frequency in the BC as compared with the neutral designation ekhener with a frequency of 181 (from the first 300 contexts of the BC). The negative meaning of the word gergen is denoted through the collocation of this word in the BC; the texts tend to characterize the person under discussion as:

3 There is no neutral word in the Buryat language referring to brothers and sisters without regard to seniority. In Buryat, there are only such words as dүү basagan (younger sister), egeshe (elder sister), and egeshe dүү (sisters, literally ‘elder sister + young’).

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‘bad’, ‘stupid’, ‘black’, ‘ugly’, ‘angry’, ‘mad’, and ‘cantankerous’, ‘such an intolerable nuisance’, ‘gossip’, etc. Our paradigmatic classification of the feminine designations in the BL may be used for: a) revealing collocations of the lexicon under discussion; b) shaping dictionary entries for the Buryat explanatory dictionary; c) defining different characteristics of females — the age-related, esthetic, and ethno-cultural ones. The study has theoretical and practical significance as it may facilitate a future semantic tagging of the BC, including its disambiguation.

References Dugarov, N. B., Adlirkhuu udkhatai ügenüüdei khuryaangy toli [Short Synonymic Dictionary], (Ulaan-Üde: Belig, 1995). “Buryat corpus”, accessed July 1, 2013, http://web-corpora.net/BuryatCorpus/ search/index.php?interface_language=ru. Shagdarov, L. D. and Cheremisov, K. M., Buryatsko-russkiy slovar [Buryat-Russian Dictionary], (Ulan-Ude, 2006, 2008). Shagdarov, L. D. and Ochirov, N. A., Russko-buryatskii slovar [Russian-Buryat Dictionary], (Ulan-Ude, 2008).

Christine Bell

Ceremonial Attire of the Oracle Priest Sungma Balung chö je Joseph F. Rock (1884–1962), Austrian-American explorer, ethnologist, botanist, linguist, and superb photographer traveled extensively in China between 1921 and 1949 (Fig. 1). In the winter of 1928 he photographed the oracle priest Sungma (srung ma) Balung chö je [chos rje] at a performance at the Feast of the Lights which commemorates the death of Tsongkhapa, founder of the Gelugpa School at the Yongning monastery, (Fig. 2 & 3), Yunnan.1 This portrait is just one of many photographs taken by Rock for the National Geographic Magazine and is one of the earliest color photos of a sungma (Fig. 4. Plate IV). It is of surprisingly good quality although processed under difficult circumstances in the field. The Autochrome Lumière, patented in 1903 by the Lumière brothers in France, was the only dependable process for color photography in use in 1928. For color to register on an emulsion, these posed pictures in full daylight required time exposures on glass plates. Incidentally, seven years later Kodak introduced the first commercial “integral tripack” color film and called it Kodachrome. According to Rock every lamasery with any claim to importance had its own oracle. Sungmas are the abodes of spirits, or spirits of demonized heroes who, subdued by lamas or high incarnations, have become guardians of the religion, sometimes higher deities. These often roving spirits are said to select either a lama or a layman as their abode during the lifetime of the chosen person. They manifest themselves involuntarily as well as voluntarily in their chosen abodes. High-ranking sungmas confine themselves mainly to giving advice concerning the performance of meritorious deeds to counteract evil influences or to ward off calamities. Whether oral or written, the replies the sungma give to questions are often difficult to understand acustically and may be ambiguous. Although there were many sungmas throughout Tibet, Rock reported that the five of real importance traditionally resided in Lhasa as did Sungma Balung. The sungma attached to the Nechung Monastery is recognized as the State Oracle and currently resides with the present Dalai Lama in Dharamsala where he continues, even today, to play an important role in matters of state (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nechung_Oracle).

1 Rock (1935), 475. Christine Bell, Independent Scholar, Berlin. The author expresses her gratitude to Prof. Klaus Sagaster (Bonn) for his kind advice. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-003

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Figure 1: Joseph F. Rock

Figure 2: Yongning Lamasery (Courtesy of National Geographic)

Ceremonial Attire of the Oracle Priest Sungma Balung chö je

Figure 3: Map of Yunnan

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Figure 4: Rock’s photo of Sungma Balung (Courtesy of National Geographic)

These five oracles are especially important in the search for the incarnation of a deceased Dalai Lama. They must agree on the identity of the child, the name and appearance of its mother, the location and description of the house it resides in, and the details of its surroundings.2 Oracles are ambivalent figures of social standing who exhibit extraordinary behavior. Entering a trance is a complex process that resists simple explanation even within the oracles’ own tradition. One should not make the mistake of assuming that these fits are epileptic in nature. Nebesky-Wojkowitz reports that Tibetans differentiate between persons who suffer from epilepsy, for which medical help is sought, and those cases in which a man or woman is “possessed” and for which special measures must be adopted.3 A general rule is that a god will in most cases take possession of a man, while women will be visited by goddesses. Male gods are by far in the majority.4 Although this may be a case of gender blindness, it could be simply because until recently only high-ranking male mediums were the focus of attention. Recent studies by

2 Rock (1935), 475; Schüttler (1971). 3 Nebesky-Wojkowitz (1956), 416. 4 Nebesky-Wojkowitz (1956), 409.

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Hanna Havnevik indicate that there is hardly any gender distinction when it comes to lower-level oracles.5 A Tongwa6 bandit chief of northwest Yunnan was reportedly the father of the Zhongdian7 中甸 boy who became Balung chö je. (According to Nebesky-Wojkowitz, chos-rje, “master of religion” is a term used only when referring to oracle-priests of the highest rank.) The bandit chief considered his son demented and had him bound when he suffered seizures. During a trance a tulku, an incarnate lama, declared him a Balung chö je and lamas recognised him as being “possessed” by the spirit of Chechin. Balung being the name of one of Chechin’s residences.8 Rock, not well versed in Tibetan, writes that the sungma in question embodies, Chechin, probably a transcription of the word Gyalchen (rgyal chen). Confirmation can be found in a photo caption for plate V, “A temple banner is adorned with two deities” in which the deity on the right may be Dorje Shugden (rDo rje shugs ldan) — riding a snow lion (described by Rock as a dragon steed), carrying a sword and having a heart in his mouth — who is identified as Chechin. “The latter spirit is said to take possession of Balung chü dje [!], the oracle pictured on the opposite page” (Fig. 5).9 Here Balung chö je possibly refers to Panglung Choje, who was one of the reknowned oracles of Shugden (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dorje_Shugden). Conclusive further information regarding Chechin has not been found yet. The connection of Balung with the Yongning monastery is not explained by Rock.

Ceremonial attire The subject of this paper is Joseph Rock’s 1928 portrait of Sungma Balung and more specifically a detailed description of his head gear, elaborate garments and including the ritual implements he is carrying and their meanings.10 An amazing amount of information can be gleaned from this photo, but it also calls forth questions. Nebesky-Wojkowitz reports that the elaborately embroidered ceremonial garments worn by oracle priests donned before entering a prophetic trance belong to the strangest and most colourful dresses worn by Tibetan clergy. They are worn over the usual dress of the medium. The robes which the medium dons as well as the paraphernalia carried should bear resemblance to the traditional depiction of the deity

5 Havnevik (2002), 262. 6 Rock (1947), 248: To the north of Chung-tien dwell the notorious robber tribe, the Tong-wa (sTongwa), the Chinese Tung-wang 東旺. 7 Town in Lijiang fu, Yunnan. 8 Rock (1935), 475. 9 Rock (1935), plate V, caption. 10 Rock (1935), plate IV, caption.

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Figure 5: Photo of temple banner (Courtesy of National Geographic)

who takes possession. Form and color of the garments and also the style of headdress depend on the nature of this deity or on characteristics of the respective class of supernatural beings. If we didn’t already know that Sungma Balung is one of the more important sungma, we could determine it from his attire which is associated with that worn by oracles being visited by the king’s class (rgyal chas).11 Sungma Balung is shown here in the first stage of the trance. He appears to be sitting foreign-fashion on a chair and is holding a bow in his left hand and has arrows and a sword at his right knee. In Tibetan iconography a bow and arrows symbolize the union of wisdom and method.12

Headgear Sungma Balung is wearing a tall, bejeweled, gilded iron headdress (dbu rmog, “helmet”), which according to J. Rock weighed about 50 pounds (22 kg). The degree of elaborateness and size of the helmet demonstrates his rank. It is placed on his head by two assistants and fastened securely under his chin by leather straps only after he is in a trance, as he would normally be unable to support the weight of it. Sungma

11 Nebesky-Wojkowitz (1956), 410–411. 12 Beer, Robert (1999), 267.

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Balung is then considered by the lamas and their followers possessed and therefore the mouthpiece of the spirit Chechin.13 The resolution of this photo doesn’t allow exact identification but Sungma Balung appears to be wearing a five-skull crown which resembles the one Nebesky-Wojkowitz describes as being worn by the chö je Nechung, the chief medium of Pe har. It has a gilded central diadem, miniature silver skulls surmounted by vajra (rdo rje) on both sides and is decorated with “gems”. Peacock plumes are discernable behind the central diadem. These auspicious feathers with “wisdom eyes” at their tips symbolize the transmutation of poison into nectar (amṛta).14 Further it is described as having blue streamers suspended from the back and at least four upright triangular brocade flags (rgyab lag) with red centers; here they are bordered with strips of blue, pink and green brocade and edged with a blue fringe. Fluffy feathers from the legs of the bearded vulture decorate their tips. The vulture or Lämmergeier is commonly seen in the Himalayan foothills and mountains of Tibet. Their feathers are employed in any number of tantric offerings. Vultures are the main “invited guests” to the great feast of dismembered corpses which occur in the Tibetan funeral practice of sky burial. The feathers of birds of prey are specifically employed in a multitude of tantric offerings.15 This weighty headdress will gradually be replaced by less elaborate and lighter headgear as his trance proceeds.

Attire The ceremonial garments of oracle priests are generally worn over their usual habits. Sungma Balung is shown here in a red brocade garment layered over a dark red robe. Behind him, to the left, we glimpse yellow brocade which could be his sha gos, a voluminous ankle-length garment which is generally bound together above the hips by a sash of silk or a girdle. He is wearing a short cape of a different yellow brocade (stod g.yog or stod le). It is symmetrically cut and when flattened has the appearance of a blossom with four broad petals with a circular head opening in the middle. Over this is tied a beautifully embroidered apron (pang khebs) with a rainbow-coloured silk fringe on its lower edge.16 In other photos of sungmas taken at the same time, this apron appears to be worn under the short cloak. According to Nebesky-Wojkowitz the breast and lower part of the body are additionally covered by a long piece of beautifully embroidered brocade of a conical shape (’ja’ pang) fastened with the help of two strings around the neck; probably the gift of

13 14 15 16

Rock (1935), 476. Beer (1999), 85. Beer (1999), 85. Nebesky-Wojkowitz (1956), 410–411.

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a devout worshiper. The embroidered fabric is Chinese or Indian silk as the Tibetan climate precludes silk production. Flowers are a universal symbol of love, compassion and beauty. As symbols of paradise they surround deities and blossom profusely in Tibetan art. In their often stylised forms it isn’t always possible to identify them.17 The unusually asymmetrical floral arrangement on Sungma Balung’s lap, however, includes plants which can be identified. In the foreground we find palm fronds i.e. Cycas revoluta Thunb. which grows in southern China and Japan, to the right a shadowy pomegranate (symbolizing happiness, passion and fertility), a lotus pod on a circle of leaves — standing for purity — can be found in the center of the bouquet, behind it are leaves which belong to what Robert Beer calls “stylisations of such multi-foliate leaves in both Chinese and Tibetan art are derived from the shapes of chrysanthemum and peony leaves [...]”.18 On top of his ’ja’ pang Sungma Balung is wearing a large circular divination mirror suspended from his neck. Partly covering the mirror is a blue silk scarf which probably covers it until the oracle is in a full trance. The silver center is usually concave and is surrounded by a gilt brim. Placed over an oracle’s heart, this mirror is known as the “mirror of mind” (thugs kyi me long). It represents the mind of the deity and often bears the deity’s seed syllable (sa bon).19 Mirror divination has an ancient history in Tibet. The reflecting surface allows the gods to express themselves, with the oracle acting as an intermediary who can also provide the relevant expanation while in a lucid state.20 Mirrors are included in the eight lucky articles (bkra shis rdzas brgyad) in Tibetan Buddhism that form a second group of early Buddhist symbols. They are also probably of pre-Buddhist origin adopted into early Buddhist symbolism during the period of its initial inception and are believed to represent events in the Buddha’s life.21

Footwear and Stance Sungma Balung is wearing a pair of heavy, high boots with thick red soles and turnedup toes that appear to be made of felt. They bear a close resemblance to a pair of boots that belonged to a btsan oracle according to photo credits to be found in the collection of the Ethnological Museum of Berlin22 , depicting the Indian mythological sea monster makara (chusin). The makara symbolizes the life-giving power of water and is a

17 Beer (1999), 41. 18 Beer (1999), 48. 19 Beer (1999), 271. 20 Diemberger (2005), 135. 21 Beer (1999), 187. 22 Müller & Raunig (1982), 370.

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keeper of treasure. Pairs of makaras appear on the sides of aureoles which surround deities.23 Sungma Balung is standing on a flayed skin (pag) of a tiger. The tiger is not a native animal of Tibet, but the Bengal tiger of India. In Vajrayana Buddhism the tiger skin represents wrathful or forceful activities. In Tibet, as much as in China, the tiger symbolizes the king of the wild beasts, possessing special dignity and courage.24 The flayed skins of various beasts cover thrones or seats of deities and are seen as attributes of, or offerings to, deities. The basic meaning is the power of Buddhism and its skilled practices to subdue the wild forces of nature. These wild forces can be interpreted as our own inner psyche or as external evils.25

Ritual implements To the afore-mentioned attire belong various weapons with which the deities who take possession of the mediums are supposed to be armed.26 The finely arrayed oracle is shown here with a Mongolian sword and surprisingly utilitarian arrows on his right and holding a bow in his left hand. The steering feathers of Tibetan arrows are traditionally cut from the wing feathers of the bearded vulture or Lämmergeier. Shafts are made from straight lengths of bamboo, with three smoothed joints or sections. According to Rock at some seances oracles perform “superhuman” feats of strength and agility. Sungma Balung will presently twist the steel blade of the sword on his right into a knot. This sword will be presented afterwards to Joseph Rock (plate V).27 Apart from the swords, knives, arrows and bows, carried by most of those oraclepriests who act as the temporary embodiments of deities of a strongly belligerent nature, there are several other specific weapons held in readiness at the time of a trance which should be mentioned. According to the National Geographic caption to plate IV Sungma Balung is holding “a trident in his right hand and when in a fit he runs up and down shooting off the arrows to banish demons”.28 In three different formats of this National Geographic photo it is impossible to see its top and determine if this implement is really a trident. It closely fits Nebesky-Wojkowitz’s description of a particular lance (rten mdung) with a shaft some five feet long and bearing a point of steel. Below the point is a characteristic cloth ring (mdung ’khor), as can be seen here, bearing a depiction of the

23 24 25 26 27 28

Reynolds (1999), 259. Eberhard (1983), 181. Reynolds (1999), 260. Nebesky-Wojkowitz (1956). 414. Rock (1935), plate V, caption. Rock (1935), plate IV, caption.

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human eye which resembles the thick cloth bracelet which Sungma Balung wears on his left forearm in front of a red snare (btsan zhags dmar po, “red snare of btsan”). The snare is worn by mediums who act as the temporary embodiments of deities of a particularly belligerent nature to catch and bind the human and supernatural enemies of Buddhism. It is said to be used by a mountain dwelling protector (btsan). This type of local guardian, mainly from mountainous regions, is known to enter an oracle in a trance and speak through him.29

Figure 6: Snare (quoted from Beer, (1999))

Possession According to Rock at the moment of this photo Sungma Balung is under the influence of fragrant juniper smoke and chanting lamas punctuated by bell ringing and conch blowing. He is sitting quietly when all at once his body begins to sway and his legs to shake. He throws himself backwards and is caught by lamas. He spits and groans, blood oozes from his mouth and nostrils. His face turns purple and inflates to such an extent that the leather chin strap bursts. He takes the Mongolian sword and twists it into knots and loops. After an offering is made, he takes a handful of rice and violently throws it into the crowd and beats the abbot with the flatside of a sword. Lamas throng 29 Rigzin (1986), 326.

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forward with offerings to obtain Chechin’s blessings. A few managed to receive it when all of a sudden the sungma throws himself backward and lies as if lifeless. Chechin has flown. When Sungma Balung rises he is weeping. His garments are adjusted and a headgear of a lesser sungma is placed on his head. Three manifestations of Chechin underlings are to take place before — with a last wild dash — the sungma disappears into the black recesses of the gloomy old temple.

Figure 7: Charles Martin’s photo of the Mongolian sword presented to Joseph F. Rock (Courtesy of National Geographic)

In conclusion, an amazing amount of information can be gleaned from a single photo, much of which is interesting not only for a person specifically fascinated by “material” culture.

Bibliography Beer, Robert (1999): The encyclopedia of Tibetan symbols and motifs. Boston. XVIII, 368 pp. Diemberger, Hildegard (2005): “Female oracles in modern Tibet”, in Gyatso, Janet & Hanna Havnevik: Women in Tibet. New York: Columbia University Press, pp. 113– 168 Eberhard, Wolfram (1983): Lexikon chinesischer Symbole. Köln: Diederichs. 320 pp.

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Havnevik, Hanna (2002): “A Tibetan female state oracle”, in Henk Blezer (Ed.) Tibetan Studies II. Religion and secular culture in Tibet. PIAT 2002, Leiden. pp. 259–289 Müller, Claudius & Walter Raunig (1982): Der Weg zum Dach der Welt. Innsbruck: Pinguin. 407 pp. Nebesky-Wojkowitz, Réne de (1956): Oracles and demons of Tibet. Leiden: Mouton & Co. XI, 666 pp. Reynolds, Valrae (1999): From the sacred realm. Treasures of Tibetan art from The Newark Museum. Munich: Prestel. 264 pp. Rigzin, Tsepak (1986): Tibetan-English dictionary of Buddhist terminology. Dharamsala, Library of Tibetan Works & Archives. 479 pp. Rock, Joseph F. (1935): “Sungmas, the Living Oracles of the Tibetan Church” in National Geographic Magazine. Vol. 68, Washington D. C., pp. 475–478 +VIII Plates Rock, Joseph F. (1947): The ancient Na-khi kingdom of Southwest China. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2 Bde. Schüttler, Günter (1971): Die letzten tibetischen Orakelpriester. Psychiatrisch-neurologische Aspekte. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner. XI, 163 pp. See review by Klaus Sagaster and Jampa Kalsang in Anthropos 66. 1971, pp. 604–613.

Elena Boykova

The General and Gender Factor in the Upbringing of Children in Mongolia From ancient times Mongols tried to have as many children as possible. One of the most popular good wishes (ерөөл — yerööl) sounds like this: “To have sons to continue the father’s family, to have daughters to marry them off”. Parents with many children had and nowadays have special honor and respect. To remain childless meant not to continue the kin, not to save home. The desire to have children was so great that it led to the custom of adoption of other people’s children, if parents did not have their own. Adoption was very widely spread, especially when the population of Mongolia had a tendency to decrease. Birth of a child, especially a son, was and still remains one of the most significant events in the life of any family. A newborn boy in Mongolia is enjoyed more than a girl. Parents consider a boy as an heir, a future principal and the bearer of the family name. After the birth of a child a lot of ceremonies to protect the baby are held. The crib of a child is hanged with charms — protective ritual objects. Traditionally after giving birth to a child, usually after 6–7 days, parents organized feasts — they cut a ram or any other animal and fed everyone. Every guest who visited the family brought gifts for the newborn. There were special gifts for boys: a knife in a sheath, a bow and an arrow, a saddle, etc. Parents, in their turn, gifted the guests1 . Parents lavished much care upon their children. Constant fear of losing a child was expressed in arranging all possible preventive measures. For the first half of the first year, and sometimes up to a year strangers were not allowed to enter the dwelling where the newborn resided. Mongols are aware that the name affects the life, character and temperament of a person, so children were and are given beautiful names such as gold, flower, joy, etc. Children were the most endangered family members. So, if the first-born died suddenly, newly born children would now be given names that would indicate that infants allegedly did not belong to their parents. They were and nowadays are given such, for example, non-names like Terbish (Not that one), Nergui (Without name), Enebish (Not this one), Adilbish (Unlike), Uheluguy (Not dying), or the names which scared away evil spirits — Olchir (Not afraid of cold), Timur (Iron), Bold (Steel), Ochir (Lightning), and sometimes Russian names (the

1 www.mongoly.ru/news/html/9.html Elena Boykova, Russia https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-004

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most popular were Ivan and Nikolai). One can notice that there are almost all men’s names as the birth of a boy, as an heir, was of paramount importance for parents. Sometimes a child received a nickname so that evil spirits would not pay attention to a little boy or a girl: Zavaan (Dirty), Teneg (Stupid) in order not to jinx the child and call a boy or a girl ugly, bad, stupid, and so on. Boys could also be dressed up as girls2 . Likewise, in order to protect a girl after birth, members of the Khalkha sometimes dressed her in the costume of a married woman in order to mislead evil spirits and ward off the risk from the offspring.3 In raising children, Mongols adhere to certain rules with regard to age: – Under the age of 5 — raise a child like a khan; – At the age from 5 to 11 — let a child follow you like a shadow (parents teach their children household duties, etc.); – At the age of 11 to 16 years — teach a child self-reliance; – From 16 — become your child’s friend.4 Mongols are not taken to flaunt their love to children, Mongols say that love to a child should be inside, and rigor — outside. The older the children become, the rarer their parents kiss them, and it mostly happens, after kids have been asleep. Thus, parents are afraid to allow love to come out. However, it does not mean that they always keep their love inside; they just have certain ways and times for it to be shown. In Mongolia, it used to be forbidden to praise a child in the presence of strangers, even if he or she deserved it. Today, it is still not accepted. The attitude to children in Mongolia was always characterized by special attention and tenderness. Parents treat their children well, there is no cruelty, Mongols practically never punish their children and do not beat them, but family discipline is quite strict. Discipline in the traditional upbringing of children in Mongolian families has always had its special place. Parents demanded that children were obedient and submissive. But parents always respect their children. One of the specific features of moral education is a combination of love and respect. They appear in the ban for children to utter the names of their parents, teachers, and relatives of a woman’s husband. Until now, the basis of family education is respect to parents. For Mongolia, relationship between generations in one family where children are raised not only by parents, but also by numerous relatives is characteristic. Grand-

2 See Szynkiewicz, Slawoj. Geburt, Hochzeit, Tod — Der menschliche Lebenszyklus im Brauchtum der Mongolen, in Walther Heissig und Claudius C. Müller (Herausgeber), Die Mongolen (exhibition catalogue). Innsbruck, Frankfurt/M. 1989. pp. 196–204. 3 Maisky, I. Sovremennaya Mongolia [Contemporary Mongolia]. Irkutsk 1921. P. 54. 4 Доёд У., Нэргуй Н. Сургалтын технологи шинэчлэлийн узэл баримтлал [The concept of the reform of the technology of education]. Улаанбаатар 1999. P. 41–45.

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mothers play a special role in the family upbringing. They are the first who teach the child regular habits and everyday skills.5 In Mongolia, the family is the center of the upbringing of children. In Mongolian folk pedagogy tasks associated with the formation of a child’s personality are solved on the basis of a boy’s or a girl’s active participation in working life, which is consistent with the basic principles of traditional national system of education. From the young age, Mongolian children participated in joint productive labor of the family, as far as possible helped adults in farming. That was due to the economic and domestic lifestyle of Mongolian nomads, in which the world of adults and of children is one and indivisible. The main principles that attention was paid to in family education were hard worker, respect to elders, honesty, courage, compassion, etc. Raising children has always been based on emulation of adults’ life activity, inclusion in economic, family and domestic life. The key principle of the parents in relation to their children was: do as I do. A child since his birth watched daily activity of his parents, and then began to participate in family and community events, daily and holiday. So since his early years he entered the sphere of traditions, customs and laws of the adults’ world, society, and the respect of adults to children was the basis of the early inclusion of boys and girls in socially meaningful activity. That was very important because the nomadic economic and cultural system required a stark internal discipline from everyone6 . Parents allocated their responsibilities for upbringing children and instilled in them a love to labor from early childhood. From their early age, soon after they had started to walk, children learned setting the table and bringing food to the adults. At the age of 3–4 a child began to graze cattle, at first sheep and goats. Children 4– 5 years old helped their mothers to run the house and acquired pastoral skills. A father taught his son to manage the horse’s harness and to quickly fix the yurt; the girl was obliged to help her mother to milk the cows, and cook food. At the age of 6–7 years, a child learned to ride, and then began to graze horses, cows, camels, as well as getting used to perform work in the house — bring dead-wood from the forest, collect argal (pressed dung used as fuel) and bring it to the yurt, start fire, etc. Children of an older age were raised according to gender principles. Boys were taught to make harnesses, repair saddles, travel by horse and to walk with caravans of camels. Girls learned to sew, cook varieties of food, including dairy products, etc. Mongols achieved the main goal of upbringing by means of early initiation of children to traditional productive activity. Bringing to work was of continuous and differ-

5 Чулуунбат Д. Традиционное семейное воспитание детей в Монголии [Traditional family education of children in Mongolia] // Молодой учёный. 2010. № 11 (22). vol. 2, p. 151. 6 www.mongoly.ru/news/html/9.html

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entiated character taking into account gender and age. This process was accompanied by serious moral and psychological preparations.7 The upbringing of boys and girls in Mongolia had certain differences. Fathers play an important role in shaping their little boys into future men with strong character and courage. Similarly, a mother’s education was important for girls. A boy in Mongolia is given the best food, he is considered as an important member of the family. From their childhood boys were taught the art of war and hunting. The system of education for boys included mastering the ability to conduct domestic affairs, which required accuracy, stamina, and insight. A girl needed to be responsive, able to feel at a glance the well-being of loved ones, and act in accordance with it. Girls were taught that rudeness was not compatible with femininity; they were brought up to be cautious and careful. A girl was destined to become a woman and to give life. Protecting herself meant to protect the future. They were taught to be polite and respectful. From the age of 12, Mongolian girls were actively involved in helping their mothers with housework. By this age they had to comprehend all tasks of running the house under the guidance of their mothers, aunts and grandmothers. Concerning the general difference in the upbringing of boys and girls, it is obvious a very early age that boys learn confidence while girls learn care. Every child was to know the history of their kin and genealogy of the tribe. They also had to know by heart at least seven generations of their ancestors. Everyone knew ancestral legends, myths, and songs. As Mongols consider, it is important that a child is able to get along with people, to reckon with other people’s opinion, to be honest and of good nature. Nowadays each Mongol should know his family tree of twelve generations in order to realize his roots. It is necessary so that a man feeels not a loner, but a representative of an ancient family, related to the whole tribe, to the people, to humanity as a whole. It is also necessary to ensure that close relatives would not get married with each other, because as a result of this the kin may become extinct due to incest. One of very significant family feasts of the Mongols (nair) is the first haircut of a child. In this feast one can notice gender marks. The custom of this feast goes back to the past. Previously, Mongolia had a high infant mortality rate. And if the child had been living up to 2–5 years, it was possible to hope that he would survive in the future. Until that time a child’s hair was not cut in order not to attract evil spirits’ attention to the child. This custom has survived to the present, despite the fact that in modern Mongolia infant mortality is low.

7 See: Долгорсурен Б. Особенности стиля воспитания матери и отца в зависимости от пола подростка [Special aspects of the style of mother’s and father’s education depending on the gender of a youth]. Автореферат … канд. психол. наук. Москва, 2004.

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Boys have their first haircut when they are 3–5 years old, girls at the age of 2–4. It is important to set the date for a haircut on an auspicious day. To determine the date of the feast, parents usually seek advice from a lama. On the pre-appointed day the child’s parents invite friends and family and arrange a feast, as this is an important event in the life of a Mongol because it is believed that after the haircut a child has been born once again. The hero of the day is nicely dressed up and put on the place of honor. Among the treats there must be dairy products. On the north-west side of the dwelling the guest whose year of birth is auspicious for the child is seated. After the child’s first haircut ceremony he or she is gradually accustomed to daily chores. In Mongolia, women historically played an important role in the life of society, and were never oppressed. Unlike many countries of the East in Mongolia women were not obliged to cover their faces, hair and hands. As Ivan Maisky wrote, “in a Mongolian family a woman is a more important economic factor than a man (as she discharges the main bulk of routine work) — and this naturally influences the lifestyle and family relationships. […] In Mongolia, if a woman is not recognized equal to a man, in any case, she is not his thing, his slave, an instrument for his pleasure, without a will of her own. A woman is brought up almost as much as a man: she is as skillful as a man in herding cattle, in riding horses, she participates in all festivities and prayers. […] She brings up children, and a boy is under the influence of his mother until he learns to ride a horse (i. e. until 6–7 years of age) and a girl even later. When dealing with important family matters — like marriage of the daughter or the son — her husband usually consults with her, and without her consent he does not dare to change the place of migration or sell some cattle […]”8 To a large extent, Mongolian society rested on women. She ran the house, raised her children, pastured; quite often under her authority migrations — this main economic process in a stock-raising country — took place. For many centuries she was known to be a good adviser of a man-breeder or of a man-warrior. As is known from the epic, fearsome and mighty Genghis Khan was very much afraid of his mother and his senior wife, and in the teachings addressed to his military commanders he ordered: “If you are unable or afraid, hand command over to your wife.” Nevertheless, a certain difference existed with respect to men and women. This could be explained, first of all, by the positioning of a man as a warrior and protector. Mongols had an omen: a woman should not touch a sword or a gun with her hands, especially before hunting or a battle — otherwise, the endeavour would not be successful, because the weapons will be defiled by that touch, spoiled, and deprived of power and accuracy. Before the revolution of 1921, education in Mongolia was basically spiritual. Upbringing of Mongols had historically been under the influence of Lamaism. From the

8 Maisky, Ibid., p. 53–54.

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first minutes of his birth until the last minutes of life, a Mongol was usually accompanied by a lama. Lamas were the first teachers in monastery schools, where they taught clergy, theologians, and exegetes of the Lamaist doctrine. In such schools the pupils were boys only. Children were rarely taught to read and write; secular education was in its infancy. Among male Mongols one could rarely meet a lettered person; there practically were no lettered women in the country. Family pedagogy, which gave priority to the education of an individual in close communication with the external conditions of a person’s existence, was widely practiced. Family education was divided into such components as prenatal, infant education, physical, labor, foster respect for traditions and customs, intellectual and aesthetic education. The special feature of modern family education is that parents try to pay attention to their children and spend much time with them. The opportunity to educate children by example and life experience is widely used. The main method of education of children in Mongolia is to explain the essence of the problem and create proper conditions for self-education. In modern Mongolia, many traditions in the sphere of upbringing children are alive. But, at the same time, many traditions of children’s education in urban and rural families are different. The differences in education of children, especially teenagers, are expressed in the prevailing hyperpatronage in rural families, and promoting autonomy in urban areas. However, the Mongols still adhere to the concept “family is the state, the state is a family”, considering that to bring discipline to the family means to bring discipline to the state.

Alicia Campi

Historical to Contemporary Mongolian Experience with Female Political Activism The nation of Mongolia, a traditional Asian society with 900 years of history, has exhibited a notable acceptance of significant political roles for women. Certainly this phenomenon is grounded in the family life of the militant nomadic steppe society of the Central Asian Altaic region and in shamanistic religious practices. The arrival of monastic lamaist Buddhism and then Soviet-style communism also strongly impacted this political tradition. This paper will analyze these factors to explain the vitality as well as challenges women experience in navigating the political environment of today’s democratic Mongolia.

Women in Mongolian Nomadic Society Worldwide, pastoral nomadic societies compared to agrarian ones tend towards greater equality between men and women. Nomads are organized in segmentary societies1 and leadership exists only insofar as the group members feel a need for it and consent to follow. It exists primarily on respect for wisdom, skill, and results, and only secondarily from hereditary family ties. Because men might be away from the home for long periods of time hunting, scouting for grazing grounds, or raiding, women took care of the home, tended the animals, and learned governing techniques.2 Because life on the steppe is difficult and requires contributions from all ages and sexes, women had to learn to ride and even fight. The Mongolian historian Baabar has written that “women in nomadic society enjoyed unrestricted power.”3 Since women were working intimately with the herds, it was Mongolian tradition to sell or trade animals after consultation with the household’s women.

1 Societies organize themselves into the smallest units that will work efficiently to complete necessary tasks. The largest unit of organization—tribal confederation—appears only infrequently so as to respond to an external threat or to seek conquest and plunder, and dissipates with the removal of the threat or opportunity. See John S. Major, The Land and People of Mongolia (New York: J. B. Lippincott, 1990), 47. 2 Bat-Ochir Bold, Mongolian Nomadic Society (Richmond: Curzon, 2001), 66–67 also attests to the fact that women traditionally had to perform men’s tasks with animals when the men were absent. 3 B. Baabar, History of Mongolia (Cambridge: The White Horse Press, 1999), 308. Alicia Campi, USA https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-005

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Mongols, close to nature and concerned about their ancestors, traditionally were shamanistic in religion. They had both male and female intercessors between the human world and the spirit world, shamans (böge) and shamanesses (idugan). The idugan/odagan performed the same healing rituals as their male counterparts and participated in sessions with them,4 which indicates a certain spiritual equality. It is also noteworthy that in the democratic era, with the freedom of Mongols to practice any faith, female shamans are numerous and have strong followings, even in Mongolian cities.

Women During the Mongolian Empire According to Ms. B. Onon, program director for Gender Center for Sustainable Development, in earlier times Mongolian women had more equality: “Centuries ago Mongolian women had rights and privileges not accorded to most East Asian women… For example, they owned property and could divorce their husbands, so it appeared that gender relations were more equal.”5 Although we do not have any historical accounts during the Mongolian Empire that were written by women or exclusively devoted to women, women are mentioned frequently in Mongolian native histories, such as the Secret History of the Mongols, and in western travelers’ accounts such as those of the Flemish Franciscan friar, William of Rubruck,6 in 1253–1254. We know from Mongol, Chinese, and Persian chronicles that women took part in battle. Although we understand little about ordinary Mongol women, the 13th century historical records included information about prominent Mongol women among the elite. Mongolian epics praise the mother of Chinggis Khaan, Mother Hoelun, who struggled to survive with her young children after the death of her husband and subsequent abandonment by tribal members. There are many anecdotes on her experiences raising and guiding the young Mongolian conqueror, including giving him valuable advice on which supporters to trust. The chronicles also praise the first wife of Chinggis, Börte, who is portrayed as a specially close and knowing confident for her husband. She is made his Empress and when Chinggis leaves the homeland to expand the empire, Börte remained behind

4 William Swan, Scottish missionary writing in his journal on April 9, 1827 about a Buryat shamanistic ritual he attended in the Trans-Baikal found in Alexander Michie, The Siberian overland Route from Peking to Petersburg, through the Deserts and Steppes of Mongolia, Tartary, etc., London, 1864. See C. R. Bawden, Shaman, Lamas and Evangelicals, The English Missionaries in Siberia (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1985), 153–156. 5 B. Onon quoted in Paula Hirschoff, “Mongolian Women: Undaunted by Adversity” (Global Fund for Women: 2012) (http://www.globalfundforwomen.org/impact/news/45/1540). 6 William Rockhill, The Journey of William of Rubruk to the Eastern Parts (London, The Hakluyt Society, 1900) released in updated translation in 1990.

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with Chinggis’ younger brother Temüge to rule the Mongol plateau. She, like his other wives, ruled her own territory along the Kherlen River with her own court.7 Royal women married to Chinggis Khaan’s sons and grandsons are often cited in contemporary accounts as politically powerful in court and instrumental in guiding succession among the male candidates for Great Khan. Queens ruled as regents but never as qan. Jack Weatherford in his recent book, The Secret History of the Mongol Queens: How the Daughters of Genghis Khan Rescued His Empire,8 argues that women ruled the empire during much of the thirteenth century and created the commercial networks that knitted Europe together with Asia. These Mongol women excelled in commerce, but some also led troops to victory in battle.9 Still it is difficult to agree with him that Chinggis Khaan wanted to leave his empire in the hands of his “more capable” daughters as opposed to his sons. After the death of Khaan Ogedei in 1241, his widow Queen Töregene was a controversial regent for five years, who was known for promoting rapacious tax policies.10 She ordered the Mongol generals to attack China’s Southern Song, and other Mongol armies subjugated Armenia and attacked Iraq. When she was appointed regent, she placed her favorites in high positions in the imperial household and eventually successfully elevated her son Güyük to be the new Great Khan. At the death of Güyük, his widow Queen Oqul-qaimish was regent for three years. She received emissaries from the French court of Louis IX. This queen was opposed to and perhaps tried to murder the new Khaan Mongke, so was suffocated in a felt rug and thrown into a river.11 The last Mongol Queen, Manduhai the Wise, is lauded for her efforts to fight Chinese invaders during the 15th century.

Women in the Manchu Period Today’s scholars often reflect the Mongolian communist point of view about the quality of life for pre-revolutionary women in the Manchu period of 1600–1900. Shitoni has called the position of a Mongolian nomadic woman during the Manchu period “an article of perishable commodity” and “a chattel,” because she was from a traditional society and, as a lamaist Buddhist, was deprived of freedom of thought and rights. Shitoni has claimed that for women to read and write was a sin [although I cannot

7 According to René Grousset, Conqueror of the World: The Life of Chingis-khan (New York: The Viking Press, 1944). 8 Jack Weatherford, The Secret History of the Mongol Queens (Broadway Paperbacks, New York, 2010). 9 Hirschoff, ibid. 10 Paul D. Buell, The A to Z of the Mongol World Empire (Lanham: The Scarecrow Press Inc, 2010), 149. 11 James D. Ryan, “Mongol Khatuns,” Trade, Travel, and Exploration in the Middle Ages: an Encyclopedia, ed. John Block Frieman and Kristen Mossler Figg (Garland, 2000), 407.

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find what historical sources substantiate this], they were treated as domestic slaves, sold in order to pay debts, and punished for their husbands’ crimes even though innocent.12 Some of this information surely comes from later Marxist-style analysis of Mongolia’s Manchu period, which is reflected in the official History of the Mongolian People’s Republic series. However, there is some independent corroboration of the deteriorating position of nomadic women from western accounts of the period. For example, Henry Howarth in the 1870s commented that the Mongol woman worked hard, but was harshly treated, “Her place is next to the door and the felt she sleeps on is the thinnest and poorest. She takes little care of herself and little care is bestowed on her.”13 Bawden also has reported documents which record women being sold as slaves from one Mongol tribe to another.14 The 1640 Law Code, which was much influenced by Lamaism, had many provisions indicating the great respect Mongols gave women. People would be punished if they tore a hair from a woman’s head or the tassel of her cap, in the ger no one could touch her and she was permitted to even attack a guest. However, the same law only protected the married women who were mothers, while a childless married woman could not deny a traveler in her bed.15 The most famous politically important woman of the late Manchu period was the Mongolian Queen Tsendiin Dondogdulam (1876–1923), consort of the 8th Living Buddha, believed to be the reincarnation of the White Tara. We have many western accounts of her, most of which are quite unflattering, but she is still revered in today’s Mongolia.

Mongolian Women under Communism We know that Mongolian’s first socialist Constitution in 1924 gave women the same rights as men and that everyone had the rights of speech, press, and demonstration,16 but it was not until 1925 that the revolutionary government abolished the practice of arranged marriages for women. Subsequently, the MPRP promoted female literacy and actively recruited female party members, although it was not until 1938 that there was a Women’s Section in the Party Central Committee and at the aimag level.17 In 1966 21.6% of deputies in Parliament were women. During the communist era, women were

12 Maqsooda Shitoni, “Women and Development in Contemporary Mongolia,” Mongolia in the 21st Century, ed. K. Warikoo and Sharad K. Soni (New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2010), 89–90. 13 Henry H. Howorth, History of the Mongols, Pt. I-IV revised edition (London: 1876–1878, Moscow: Central Department of Oriental Literature, 1973), 42. 14 C. R. Bawden, The Modern History of Mongolia (New York: Frederick A. Praeger, 1968), 139–140. 15 Henning Haslund, Men and Gods in Mongolia (London: Kegan Paul, 1935, reprinted by Adventures Unlimited Press in Stelle, Illinois, 1992), 266–267, quoting from the Tsachin Bichik Code of 1640. 16 History of the Mongolian People’s Republic, translated by William A. Brown and Urgunge Onon, (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1976), 367. 17 Ibid., 213, 340.

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ministers and MPRP officials. Prior to 1990, the sole women’s organization was the Mongolian Women’s Federation headed by Ms. N. Gerelsüren. This was a state-backed entity, which survived as an NGO into the democratic era. Shitoni reports that in the communist era women accounted for almost half of the country’s work force, and they were prominent in banking, health, education, communication and utility services, public canteens, trade, technology and insurance. Nevertheless, researcher Baabar believes that within the family women’s rights were constantly decreasing during socialism. Bawden found evidence that many of the numerous work and health regulations to protect women were ignored in reality by authorities.18 After the collapse of the command economy system, many women in health and banking lost their jobs through forced early retirement.19

Women in the Democratic Era During the democratic era, women initially lost their special reserved status in the Parliament and thus the number of seats fell to only three. For example in 1998, only 10.5% of the parliamentarians, 11% of the Cabinet, no (0%) aimag and capital city governors, and 2.4% of sum (county) and district governors were represented by women. However, in the judicial branch, women were particularly active—being 70% of lawyers and 23.5% of the Supreme Court.20 In 2012 with more girls enrolled in high schools than boys and with 60% of university students being female, it can be expected that the number of females in skilled professions will continue to be high. After 1990, various subsidies and pensions which had sustained the average woman under communism were eliminated. Poverty increased to nearly one-third of the population and female headed households swelled to 20%.21 In the opinion of local leaders, the status of women was deteriorating. Mrs. Ider, the Chancellor of the Supreme Court, was quoted as saying, “women in political sphere need to be enhanced. […] the other strong sex was not interested in sharing the power, [and] the women is a great power which could be used in the development of the country.”22 In the democratic era much attention has been given to the problem of domestic violence against women. Baabar has claimed that there were no instances of women and

18 Bawden, ibid., 406–407. 19 Women between 38 and 55 with more than 4 children were forced into early retirement. Shitoni, ibid., 93. 20 Shitoni, ibid., quoting from a report of NSO (Women and Men in Mongolia, 1998), 93. 21 In 1980 female headed families were 4.4% of households while in 1995 this number was 7.2%. Shitoni, ibid., 94 [Author’s comment] The 1980 statistics likely are taken from The 60th Anniversary of People’s Mongolia (Moscow: Novosti Press Publishing House, 1981). 22 Shitoni, ibid., 101, quoting from an article in The Mongol Messenger with no date provided.

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wives being beaten in Mongolian society.23 Some foreign observers, such as Shitoni believe that such problems now are fed by the rise of traditional religion and conservative nationalism.24 I rather see such explanations as more political than scientific, which has skewed objectivity. It is likely that such violence is an ingrained cultural phenomenon, not a new one, like in many traditional societies. Its rise in reporting is connected with the growing voice of women and with freedom of the press today, as opposed to the suppression of negative statistics in the socialist period. Today longstanding problems such as rape, sex trafficking, forced prostitution, incest and sexual harassment are publicly addressed. However, with the openness of Mongolian society to the world, it is true that sex trafficking of women across borders certainly is a phenomenon not experienced in communist times. As noted previously, the communist era-created Coalition of Mongolian Women was able to successfully transform into a legal NGO in December 1999 with the purpose of promoting gender equality in decision making. Its status was transformed from a mass organization under the centrally planned economy to become an NGO under a democratic government. This change meant that staff were no longer civil servants and the Federation lost its direct access to government funding. According to Gerelsüren, it survived the decade of the 1990s primarily because of funding from the United Nations Development Fund for Women’s (UNIFEM) Advancement of Mongolian Women Project25 that was the first in Mongolia to provide loan funds to women and the first to work with NGOs. This project taught the Federation how to generate its own earnings without relying on the banking system to organize savings and credit cooperatives across the country in all the aimags. The Federation’s expertise in micro credit and small enterprise development gained recognition among the foreign donor community, so that the UNDP entrusted the implementation of its microstart project to the Federation. The amounts involved were T9 million and T7 million, and the Federation achieved a 100 per cent repayment rate.26 In the last 20 years there have been many other international NGOS that have worked with local Mongolian NGOS to assist women and bring their specific problems to the attention of national authorities.

23 Baabar, ibid., 309. 24 Shitoni, ibid., 96–97. 25 Advancement of Mongolian Women Project MON/92/WO1. “UNIFEM East and Southeast Asian Region, Mongolia” (May 9, 1999), http://www.unwomen-eseasia.org/projects/Mongolia/Mongolia01. htm 26 Each cooperative had 24 women members who pool their savings and borrow in rotation from their pooled funds. The Federation also helped the cooperatives to access international NGO and donor funds. In return, it receives a 20 per cent share of the interest paid by borrowers to support its activities. Of the remainder, 60 per cent is used to increase the amount of potential loan funds and 20 per cent is used for training etc. In 1998, the cooperatives provided 5000 women with loans and created 500 job places for women. In addition, 10,000 women and men (mainly women) were trained in business skills. Another 3,000–5,000 women were also trained in family planning. Ibid.

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It should be said that most of this work and funding has been economically — not politically — oriented. The Asia Pacific Forum on Women, Law and Development reported that in 1999 forty women’s NGOs signed an agreement to work together on increasing women’s political participation in the nationwide parliamentary election. The Coalition conducted voter’s education activities aimed at increasing public awareness on participatory democracy and organized a broad media campaign in support of women candidates in the general election as well as encouraged them to run as candidates in local elections. As a result, in 2000 women won 8 seats out of 76, which was no increase over 1996 results.27 The first decade of the 2000s saw further loss in the number of seats in Parliament held by women, despite their growing economic power. Twentysix candidates competed for 313 offices, yet in the 2008 parliamentary elections only 3 women were successful: D. Arvin (MPP), S. Oyun (CWGP), and D. Oyunkhorol (MPP), making up less than 4% of the Parliament. In response to popular pressure to do something about the disparity, the election law of 2012 “contained many new regulations, including the introduction of proportional representation for 28 of the 76 seats. It also specified that a minimum of 20% of the candidates nominated and approved as candidates would have to be women.”28 However, this was not a quota on women parliamentarians, just on the candidates for seats in parliament. The women candidates from four major parties got together before the election to agree on their priorities to increase investment in women’s and children’s health. The election result was that 10 women, or about 13% of the new Parliament, were elected: D. Oyunkhorol (MPP), Ts. Oyungerel (DP), G. Uyanga (MPRP), S. Odontuya (DP), L. Erdenechimeg (DP); R. Burmaa (DP), M. Batchimeg (DP), Bayanselenge (MPRP), S. Oyun (CWGP), and D. Arvin (DP). Analysts noted that the Democratic Party placed more emphasis on its female candidates and assisted them to victory, while the Mongolian People’s Party, the renamed old communist era party, organized its slate with women candidates at the bottom, so only one person won, despite the party’s overall strong performance. Several weeks later U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, on her visit to Ulaanbaatar for the International Women’s Leadership Forum, commented on the newly elected women in Mongolia: “these women are blazing a path for all Mongolians who have the drive and desire to serve, to follow.”29

27 Among the winners were Mrs. Gerelsüren; Chairperson of the Mongolian Democratic Socialist Women’s Association Mrs. D. Altai; and Chairperson of the Mongolian Child Rights Centre Mrs. N. Bolormaa. Asia Pacific Forum on Women, Law and Development, Volume 13, No. 2, August 2000 http://www.apwld.org/archive/vol132-07.htm 28 Julien Dierkes, “The Impact of a Quota: Female MPs in the Ikh Khural,” Mongolia Focus (July 12, 2012) http://blogs.ubc.ca/mongolia/2012/impact-of-quota-female-mps/ 29 Carol H. Yost, “Number of Seats Held by Women in Mongolia’s Parliament Triples,” Asia Foundation (August 22, 2012),http://www.asiafoundation.org/in-asia/2012/08/22/number-of-seats-held-bywomen-in-mongolias-parliament-triples/

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The elected MP women put partisanship aside to organize a Mongolian Parliamentary Women’s Caucus immediately after the election. Its first priority is to improve the quality of maternity hospitals.30 Caucus Chair is Mrs. Erdenechimeg. Considering the few women in Mongolian politics in the past 20 years, surely the most famous is Mrs. S. Oyun of the Civil Will Party. She is the sister of one of the most renowned early supporters of democracy, S. Zorig, whose 1998 murder remains unsolved. She traditionally has represented European democratic socialist policies. Canadian Mongol specialist Julian Dierkes believes that “Her consistent support of the free market, human rights, and anti-corruption initiatives puts her in a seat of moral authority and trustworthiness that few other Mongolian politicians can command.”31 Mrs. Oyun, who has been an MP for 15 years and now is Minister for Environment in Mongolia’s coalition government, was quoted last year as saying that there is so much energy and potential for women of Mongolia in medium and low levels of public service and the private sector. Men dominate at the decision-making level, but if you look at education, women tend to be better educated; at the university level women are 60 percent of the graduates, so women shoulder as much work as men, but men still dominate in decisionmaking. Now we have to prove that an increase in the number of women will make some change and impact before the next elections.32

Another rising star in the Parliament is Ms. Batchimeg, a Democratic Party MP who is a well-known Chinese specialist. She was National Security Policy Adviser to the President, former head of Mongolia’s Economic Representative Office in Taiwan, and former Chinese-language freelance reporter for Voice of America in Ulaanbaatar. Batchimeg now is Chairman of the Mongolia-China parliamentary group, so she brings a geopolitical concern to Mongolian development. When asked about the side effects of Mongolia being a resource rich country with corruption and a wide gap between the rich and poor, she commented: “There is a perception among the electorate that women are less corrupt than men — there is a strong mandate for women MPs to work to make government more transparent, provide equal opportunities for the people, more equitable growth, and clean politics.”33 Other major female parliamentarians are Mrs. Ts. Oyungerel (DP), well known for her support of human rights and international affairs who was the major DP vote getter, and Mrs. R. Burmaa (DP), head of the Voters’ Education Center, who in Parliament now chairs the Mongolia-Germany Intergovernmental Group and is known for her fight against corruption. Undoubtedly, a notable new political star in Mongolia is Mrs. Natsag Udval, who just ran for President of the country in the June 26th election. As the first female can-

30 “Mongolian Women’s Caucus Conducts First-Ever Legislative Meeting,” Women’s Democracy Network (August 2012), http://www.wdn.org/news-events-press-center 31 Dierkes, ibid. 32 Yost, ibid. 33 Yost, ibid.

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didate for President, she was the standard bearer of the Mongolian People’s Revolutionary Party. A medical doctor with a speciality in pediatrics, she is 59 years old. Mrs. Udval worked for UNICEF 1998–1999, was Deputy Minister of Health from 2000–2004, and became the present Minister of Health in 2012 in Mongolia’s coalition government. She received only 8% of the vote in the election, but her party still played a key role on the Mongolian political scene.

Conclusion These are the new Mongolian women political leaders of today. They are indicative of the growing economic and political power Mongolian women hold in their society. Women make up slightly more than 50% of the country’s population and 43% of the highly educated. An amazing 70% of lawyers and 37% of state officials in education, health and finance are women.34 As Julian Dierkes said after the 2012 election, “perhaps it is safe to say that we are on the right path to a more equal representation of women among the visible leadership of Mongolia even when many suspect that much of the management of the country is already performed by women.”35

34 Statistics taken from 1999 found in Shitoni, ibid., 104–195. 35 Dierkes, ibid.

Oliver Corff

Gender, Sex and Symmetry: Matters and Modes of Expression in an 18th Century Multilingual Dictionary Introduction The Mirror in Five Languages (Corff et al., 2013; hereinafter: “Pentaglot”), a multilingual dictionary comprising Manju, Tibetan, Mongolian, Turki and Chinese compiled at the end of the 18th century, offers abundant material for the study of gender and sex concepts in the realm of material objects, nature and society across a wide range of subjects and languages, as well as a multitude of modes in which these concepts can be expressed. This article is not more than a modest description of findings strictly within the realm of the above-mentioned dictionary; it is not an exhaustive survey of wider corpora of the languages contained in that dictionary. Moreover, this article does not relate to the modern fields of feminism theory and gender studies in the sense of gender as a social construction. Deceivingly obvious as terms like “gender” and “sex” may appear, they are sometimes erroneously taken as synonyms; this is why a few definitions should be given first. Starting from a biologically determined perspective, we can consult a straightforward definition offered by the World Health Organization: “‘sex’ refers to the biological and physiological characteristics that characterize men and women”, whereas “‘gender’ refers to the socially constructed roles, behaviors, activities, and attributes that a given society considers appropriate for men and women.”1 The definition continues: “‘Male’ and ‘female’ are sex categories, while ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ are gender categories.” Gender, for a long time, used to be a category limited to grammar, and its shift to becoming the subject of gender studies is a phenomenon of the 20th century as pioneered by Simone de Beauvoir or Judith Butler. Here, a few remarks on the very nature of gender concepts are necessary. In most contexts, both gender and sex concepts express symmetrical and bipolar relations between objects. Using the terms gender and sex is not limited to living beings such as humans and animals but is also frequently extended to inanimate things, very much resembling the usage of “male” and “female” for the description of nuts and bolts or

1 WHO: What do we mean by “sex” and “gender” http://www.who.int/gender/whatisgender/en/ index.html, retrieved on December 21st , 2013. Oliver Corff, Independent Scholar, Berlin https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-006

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properties of electrical connectors in a wide variety of languages. There seems to be a universal understanding that gender and sex mark specific phenomena of objects otherwise considered the same. We will explore this problem when studying terms expressing sexual dimorphism. It is commonly accepted that gender concepts include the expression and marking of sexual dimorphism, but not all gender distinctions allow for an interpretation in terms of biological sex. Also, in the majority of cases, marking gender properties is not optional, but mandatory. There are some exceptions for this rule of thumb as will be shown later. None of the languages of the “Pentaglot” knows the concept of noun gender so familiar from Indo-European languages. Altaic languages share a unique feature: vowel gender. For Manju, the notion of vowel gender is highlighted with a few examples. Nota Bene: In this article, the focus will be put on the (optional) gender of inanimate things, the terms used for tonality gender in music, true gender markers for persons and objects they use, and finally the issue of generic names and optional sex markers for animal names.

Gender of inanimate things The “Pentaglot” lists a few objects which either come in mating pairs2 or otherwise are described in terms of protruding resp. “male”, or indented resp. “female” properties. Two objects are introduced in tables 1 and 2. Both tables show how word pairs sharing a common descriptor are constructed. The first two columns of the tables show the modifier which completes the descriptor at the ellipsis. Thus, the first entry of table 1 should be be expanded and read as: 0272.2: a jijun-i acangga, 0272.3: e jijun-i acangga.3

Likewise for all other examples and all following tables. In table 1, the terminology for a passport is presented. This particular passport consists of two halves, both sides showing the same text. However, on the “male” half the letters are cast in a protruding manner, while on the “female” half the letters are indented. Only if the two halves match (fit snugly, or “mate”), the identity of the passport bearer is confirmed. In Manju, the passport (ma. acangga,4 “something that matches”

2 This terminology makes a strong reference to the concept of sex. 3 In this article, all references to lemmata of the Pentaglot are given in the form xxxx.y where xxxx denotes a four-digit page number in the range of 1..4973 (page numbers < 1000 are padded with leading zeroes) and y denotes a column number in the range of 1..4. This numbering scheme was introduced with the facsimile print of the Pentaglot published in 1957 and is used throughout (Corff et al., 2013). 4 Throughout the text, the following language labels are used: ma. = Manju, tib. = Tibetan, mo. = Mongolian, tu. = Turki, chin. = Chinese.

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Table 1: Gender-related vs. descriptive modifiers for inanimate things, I Modifier ma. tib. mo. tu. chin.

0272.2 a yartokimal muzgar 陽 yáng

0272.3 e marseyilümel mūʾan˙nīt 陰 yīn

Descriptor (common part to 0272.2 and 0272.3) … jijun-i acangga … rgya … ziruɣtu tokiyal temdeg … xaṭ·līk qām·lāš·qān tamtak … 文合符 … wén hé fú

[here: … its opposite half, and thus constructing a key to an identity]) is said to have either ma. a (male) or ma. e (female) lines (ma. jijun), the words ma. a and ma. e being the names of the “masculine principle” and “feminine principle” (akin to chin. 陽 yáng and 陰 yīn5 and being a direct translation hereof). Turki uses similar terms which are translations as well (both tu. muzgar and tu. mūʾan˙nīt6 are words of Arab origin: muẕakkar and muʾannaṯ, meaning “male” and “female”). Only Tibetan and Mongolian fall apart inasmuch they do not employ a terminology laden with gender or sex undertones but simply describe the mechanical properties of the two paired objects: tib. yar and mar stand for “upper, protuding” and “lower, indented”, tib. rgya being a “token”, while mo. tokimal is “matching”, whereas mo. seyilümel is “engraved, cut”, with mo. ziruɣtu tokiyal temdeg being a “token with a fitting drawing or image.” Table 2 shows the terminology for a fold of paper. Again, Chinese employs 陽 yáng and 陰 yīn as words for the protruding and the indented side of the fold. This terminology is duly translated into Manju using ma. a and ma. e as in the example above. Turki here introduces two new words basically meaning “male” and “female” (in the sense of Chinese and Manju, and thus probably being translations of the concept), ärkäk and tīšī. Tibetan and Mongolian, as in the example above, again use purely descriptive terms: tib. phyi, mo. ɣadaɣadu is the outer side, tib. nang, mo. dotuɣadu the inner side of a fold. It is worth mentioning that the Altaic languages, notably Manju and Mongolian, demonstrate a phonetic feature which is classified in terms of vowel gender. A word can either be dominated by back vowels (like ma. a, o) or front vowels (like ma. e, u). In Mongolian, the three vowels a, o and u are considered back vowels, the three vowels e, ö and ü are considered front vowels, their name e. g. in Mongolian being er⸗e egesig (“male vowel”) and em⸗e egesig (“female vowel”). Frequently, these vowel genders are

5 In the Pentaglot, the masculine and feminine principles as philosophical concepts are introduced in section “Literature and scholarly study / classical texts, 5”, 0759.2 and 0759.3. 6 The romanization of Turki used in the Pentaglot and here is based on a comprehensive comparison between Turki in Arabic script and the pronounciation guide in Manju script; see Oliver Corff: “Some Notes on the Relationship between Turki Orthography and Manju Rendering of the Pentaglot,” 20–29.

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Table 2: Gender-related vs. descriptive modifiers for inanimate things, II Modifier ma. tib. mo. tu. chin.

0814.4 a-i phyi ɣadaɣadu ärkäk 陽 yáng

0815.1 e-i nang dotuɣadu tīšī 陰 yīn

Descriptor Common part to 0814.4 and 0815.1 … bukdan shog-bu- … -ldeb … nuɣulburi … qāt … 扣 kòu

Table 3: Directional perception, I Modifier ma. tib. mo. tu. chin.

0014.3 wesihun yardegedü-yin yoqqarqi 上 shàng

0014.4 wasihûn mardoradu-yin tobanki 下 xià

Descriptor Common part to 0014.3 and 0014.4 … hontoho … ngo’i-brgyad … xaɣas … yarmi … 弦 … xián

aligned with the gender of the matter pointed at, like ma. a and ma. e for the masculine and feminine principles, cf. ma. haha “man” and ma. hehe “woman”. The examples given in tables 1 and 2 offer at least three competing concepts for describing the matching yet different objects complementing each other: – A gender-based concept in the case of Chinese which apparently was directly translated as such into Manju and Turki, – a directional, spatial concept in the case of Tibetan, and – a purely descriptive concept in the case of Mongolian. If we have a closer look at tib. yar and mar and study other occurrences of these words, the purely directional pairs “upper” vs. “lower”, “up” vs. “down” etc. will tell us that all five languages of the Pentaglot share the same understanding when, e. g., the upper and lower sickle of the moon are described, as table 3 shows. Here, ma. wesihun, tib. yar, mo. degedü, tu. yoqqarqi and chin. 上 shàng correspond to each other mutually. All terms for the opposite direction match equally well. The situation looks different when these words are used in a figurative manner, as table 4 shows. The concept of “wandering around” is expressed in terms of vertical motion in Manju, Tibetan and Mongolian, but a horizontal motion is assumed in the case of Chinese: 東…西…dōng…xī…, lit. “east” and “west”. Turki uses a gemination best interpreted as “here and there”.

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Table 4: Directional perception, II

Literal usage ma. tib. mo. tu. chin.

0239.4 wesihun yar degegsi igiz-raq 崇高 chóng gāo

Figurative usage

0241.2 wasihûn mar doɣuɣsi fas-raq 往下 wǎng xià

2200.4 fifaka fosoko yar-bud-mar-bud oyiɣsan eyilügsen āndā mūndā 東逃西散 dōng táo xī sàn

Table 5: Tonality genders in music

ma. tib. mo. tu. chin.

0075.1

0075.2

0692.4

0693.1

a thabs-pho arɣ⸗a muzgar 陽 yáng

e shes-rab-mo bilig mūʾan˙nīt 陰 yīn

alioi pho-dbyangs arɣ⸗a egesig muzgar lü˙ü 律 lǜ

elioi mo-dbyangs bilig egesig mūʾan˙nīt lü˙ü 吕 lǚ

Tonality Gender In Western music, there is a most prominent distinction between two different scales, a major scale and a minor scale containing the major thirds or minor thirds. A gender assignment takes place frequently, labelling the major scale “masculine” and the minor scale “feminine”.7 In Chinese musicology, a similar distinction between two tonality genders is applied even though the construction of scales is not entirely equal. Hence, table 5 shows the two genders which are named 陽 yáng and 陰 yīn in Chinese, from which ma. a and ma. e are direct translations. This is the very same application of these terms as discussed above. Tibetan is a special case as the gender names are pleonastic constructions. Tib. thabs, literally “method” (and thus a semantical equivalent to mo. arɣ⸗a) relates to the “masculine principle”, and tib. pho means “male”, hence we read a “male masculine principle” here. Tib. shes-rab has its equivalent in mo. bilig, “wisdom”, both standing for the feminine principle, yet the Tibetan word has to be combined with tib. mo “female” in order to produce the expression tib. shesrab-mo, “female feminine principle”. For the masculine tones of the scale, table 5 shows a slightly different scheme. There are two distinct characters for “rule”, “scale” in Chinese, namely 律 lǜ for the masculine scale and 吕 lǚ for the feminine scale. Their Chinese pronouncation only differs by tone. The Manju perception of either word is

7 Compare also the stereotypes “hard” and “soft” (in German terminology based on Latin, “Dur” and “Moll”).

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rendered as ma. lioi. Now, this word is combined with the names of the principles to form ma. alioi and ma. elioi. Similarly, Turki forms muzgar lü˙ü and mūʾan˙nīt lü˙ü, both being combinations of an Arab loanword and the Chinese loanword. Mongolian picks up mo. arɣ⸗a and bilig, combining these two classifiers with the word egesig, here: “tune”. Tibetan discards the terms introduced for the masculine and feminine principles and simply writes tib. pho-dbyangs “male tune” and tib. mo-dbyangs “female tune”.

Sex and Gender We now come to our first example where a gender concept is not used in its figurative sense but is used to describe persons of different sexes and the objects they use. There are only a few lemmata in the Pentaglot where a person’s profession, social status, typical tool or attributes are given in a truly symmetrical manner for both sexes. The drummer, his/her drum and the associated activity is such an example. The drum itself has two totally different names in Manju, namely untun (female usage) and imcin (male usage). Such a difference is reproduced in Mongolian, as table 6 shows. In Tibetan, two different types of drums are described according to their appearance: tib. zom-rnga is a drum beaten from two sides, and tib. lag-rnga is a hand drum with long handle. Only in Chinese and Turki (which, in the author’s humble opinion, is but a translation of the Chinese term), a direct reference is made to the sex of the person using the drum: tu. xatūn⸗nīng, chin. 女 nü “women’s” vs. tu. är⸗nīng, chin. 男 nán “men’s” 手 鼓 shǒugǔ “hand drum”. With regard to the verb for using these particular drums, the picture given in table 7 looks different from the noun. Manju derives the verb by attaching the suffix -š[a/e]mbi to the noun, hence producing ma. untušembi and ma. imcišambi. A similar mechanism is applied to the Mongolian noun roots to which -demüi is added, resulting in mo. kenggergedemüi and mo. dünggürdemüi. Tibetan abandons the descriptive modifiers tib. zom, lag and—in line with Chinese and Turki—now uses a sex marker (tib. mo-, pho- “female, male”) which we’ll encounter again in other usages later on. Both Chinese and Tibetan use a generic verb (in both languages: “to Table 6: Gender terminology referring to sex: noun Modifier ma. tib. mo. tu. chin.

0662.3 untun zom keltegei kenggerge xatūn⸗nīng 女 nǚ

Descriptor 0662.4 imcin lag düngkür är⸗nīng 男 nán

Common part to 0662.3 and 0662.4 (not applicable) … rnga (not applicable) … dāfī … 手鼓 … shǒugǔ

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Table 7: Gender terminology referring to sex: verb Modifier ma. tib. mo. tu. chin.

0646.3 untušembi mokenggergexatūnčä 女 nǚ

0646.4 imcišambi phodünggürāyrānčä 男 nán

Descriptor Common part to 0646.3 and 0646.4 (not applicable) … rnga-brdung …-demüi … dāf ([sic!] noun phrase) … 打手鼓… dǎ shǒugǔ

beat”) to form a verb-object phrase (in the case of Chinese): chin. 打手鼓 dǎ shǒugǔ, or object-verb phrase (in the case of Tibetan): tib. rnga-brdung.8 Turki is exceptional in two aspects. First, rather than using the grammatical structure “noun+possessive case marker” (e. g. tu. xatūn⸗nīng, lit. “woman’s”), it now derives an adjective from the noun: tu. xatūnčä, lit. “female”. Second, quite deceivingly it appears that the objectverb phrase is incomplete since a verb is missing, but a closer inspection reveals that this is actually a close translation of the Chinese term, understood as a noun-phrase preceded by a qualifier: “drum beaten by a man/woman.”

Generic Names and Optional Sex Markers for Animals Names of animals offer an interesting field of study for sex-related terms. Here, biology dominates terminology, and the naming conventions show how the expression of sexual dimorphism is handled by the speakers of every language. Two basic patterns can be observed. Either there are (usually three) completely different names for the generic animal, its male and its female form, or there is just one name for the animal, accompanied by an optional sex marker. Manju and (to a lesser extent) Mongolian follow the first pattern, whereas Tibetan, Turki and Chinese follow the second pattern. As with all examples given before, we have to be aware that we cannot safely discriminate whether the pattern for Tibetan and Turki is a native concept of these languages, or whether it is rather an artifact originating from the editing and translation process undertaken by the compilers of the “Pentaglot.” As an example for the first pattern demonstated in table 8, the sable has three distinct Manju names: seke (generic), lunggu (male) and aihû (female). The pattern is not upheld as regularly in Mongolian: bulaɣ⸗a (generic), erkis (male), ebsigis (female). The latter forms can also be interpreted as modifiers since they share a common root

8 A complete translation in English would render the Chinese and Tibetan phrases as “(man|woman) [who] beats drum”, however it is also possible to understand these phrases as noun-phrases preceded by a qualifier: “drum beaten by (man|woman).”

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Table 8: Generic vs. specific animal names with regard to biological sex

ma. tib. mo. tu. chin.

Generic Animal

Male

Female

4271.4 seke spu-nag bulaɣ⸗a būlġān 貂 diāo

4272.1 lunggu spu-nag-pho erkis ärkäk būlġān 公貂 gōng diāo

4272.2 aihû spu-nag-mo ebsigis tīšī būlġān 母貂 mǔ diāo

(*[g/k]is) modified by the prefix er- (male) or ebsi- (female), and the name of the animal (bulaɣ⸗a) could be missing. In contrast, the second pattern is followed in a most regular manner in Tibetan, Turki and Chinese. The Tibetan name spu-nag (generic) is optionally modified by pho (male) or -mo (female), a modifier which we have encountered in the previous example. In Turki, the name of the animal appears to be Mongolian: būlġān (generic), it is optionally modified by ärkäk (male) or tīšī (female). We remember this pair of modifiers from the example given in table 2. In Chinese, we see the generic name 貂 diāo, optionally modified by 公 gōng (male) or 母 mǔ (female), with 公 gōng / 母 mǔ being one of several pairs of sex (and occasionally gender) markers used in Chinese. We saw 男 nán and 女 nǚ already, and a third pair is 雄 xióng / 雌 cī (“male / female” for animals, notably birds) as in Pentaglot 4310.1–2. For Manju and Mongolian the interpretation of this tripartite pattern is not difficult. Sexual dimorphism in appearance and behavior is so evident that the members of the class “sable” as well as the class itself easily qualify for completely different names. In the Chinese pattern, class and class members share the same name, sexual distinction is optional. The following list gives an overview of the naming conventions for nine other animals in the “Pentaglot.” The lemma for each language is shown in the form: generic {name|male|female}. “0” (zero) indicates a zero option. While all animals shown here are vertebrates, not all are mammals. The two animals listed last are fish. Nonetheless the two basic patterns for naming sexual dimorphism can be observed in a most regular form. 4242.3–4243.1: ma. tasha | muhan | biren; tib. stag +{-0|-pho|-mo}; mo. bars | gentü | ölügčin; tu. {0|ärkäk|tīšī} yōlbārș; chin. {0| 公 | 母} 虎 “tiger”. 4246.3–4247.1: ma. nasin | sati | nari; tib. dred+{-0|-pho|-mo}; mo. sir⸗a maqai | ɣaǰarun ötege | ebsi; tu. {küfșä|ärkäk|tišī} ãyīġ; chin. {0| 公 | 母} 馬熊 “bear”. 4247.4–4248.2: ma. mojihiyan | uduwen | jaira; tib. khyi-dred+{-0|-pho|-mo}; mo. noqai ötege | er ataɣ | ebsi ataɣ; tu. {0|ärkäk|tišī} yiġāč ãyīġ; chin. {0| 公 | 母} 貔 “Tibetan bear”.

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Table 9: Sex-specific naming pattern for animals

4242.3 4246.3 4247.4 4249.4 4262.2 4268.2 4271.4 4298.4 4472.1 4473.2

ma.

tib.

mo.

tu.

chin.

a|b|c a|b|c a|b|c a|b|c a|b|c a|b|c a|b|c a|b|c irr. a|b|c

0|m|f 0|m|f 0|m|f -ba|m|f 0|m|f 0|m|f 0|m|f -ma|-thug|-mo 0|m|f 0|m|f

a|b|c a|b|c a|b|c a|b|c a|b|c a|b|c a|b|c irr. irr. a|b|c

0|m|f a|m|f 0|m|f 0|m|c 0|m|f 0|m|f 0|m|f 0|m|f 0|m|f irr.

0|m|f 0|m|f 0|m|f 0|m|f 0|m|f 0|m|f 0|m|f 0|m|f 0|m|f 0|m|f

4249.4–4250.2/3: ma. buhû | mafuta | jolo;9 tib. shwa+{-ba|-pho|-mo}; mo. buɣu | dayir | maral; tu. {0|ärkäk|tišī} būġï;10 chin. {0| 公 | 母} 鹿 “deer | buck | doe”. 4262.2–4262.4: ma. jeren | onon | sirhacin; tib. rgo-ba+{-0|-pho|-mo}; mo. ǰeger⸗e | oɣunu | sirɣaɣčin; tu. {0|ärkäk|tišī} ǧī·rān; chin. {0| 公 | 母} 黃羊 “Mongolian antelope”. 4268.2, 4268.4, 4269.1: ma. hailun | algin | uki; tib. chu-sram+{0|-rgya-bo|-mo}; mo. qaliɣu | boyir | ebi; tu. {0|ärkäk|tīšī} qamā; chin. {0| 公 | 母} 水獺 “otter”. 4298.4–4299.2: ma. niman | kûca | gûca; tib. ra+{-ma | -thug | -mo}; mo. imaɣ⸗a | quča | em⸗e imaɣ⸗a; tu. ãčkü | takä | tīšī ãčkü; chin. {0| 公 | 母} 山羊 “goat”. 4472.1–4472.3: ma. {0 | atuha | nuhere} dafuha; tib. nya-+{0 | pho | mo}+sgong-chen; mo. {0 | atuq⸗a | nüker⸗e} dabq⸗a; tu. çārșū āġïz {0 | ärkäk | tīšī} balīq; chin. {0 | 公 | 母} 方口鰟頭 “square-mouthed bream”. 4473.2–4473.4: ma. cime | niyekce | muhuru; tib. nya-+{0 | -pho | -mo}khrab-chung; mo. čim=a | niyegǰe | mökürü; tu. badarlīk mūkī | ǧūm badar{ärkäk | tišī}; chin. {0 | 公 | 母} 鯕䱅魚 “a kind of sea fish”. The structure of the formal mechanisms of the data listed above is summarized in table 9. How to read table 9: – In Manju and Mongol, “a|b|c” points to three different names for generic or class name as well as male and female names. – Tibetan: “0|m|f” indicates that the sex marker is optional. In case a sex marker is given, it is -pho for the male animal and -mo for the female animal. In a few cases the suffix appears as infix but this is to be understood as a composite expression

9 In 4250.3, Manju also has eniyen buhû, “doe”. 10 In principle, Turki follows this pattern, with the exception of entry 4250.2 where mārāl (compare mo. maral) is given; the Turki entry matching ärkäk būġï in 4250.1 — tišī būġï — is found in 4250.3 instead.

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of two words. Occasionally the neutral form is marked with -ba, as in the case of 4249.4 “deer”. Manju, Mongol, Turki: “irr.” stands for irregular word formation, containing elements of both basic patterns. Turki: “0|m|c” stands for neutral form, neutral form with prefix indicating male sex, and a separate female form. Chinese: “0|m|f” stands for 0| 公 | 母, i.e. class name preceded by optional sex modifier.

Gender as Sexual Attributions of Societal Roles There is only one field in the “Pentaglot” where a true link between gender understood as relationship between a person’s sex and societal rôle is found. In the chapters on the emperor (0252.1 and following), imperial wives and consorts (0262.4 and following), military and officialdom it is clear that all officials, be they civilian (0310.4 and following), military or soldiers (0855.1 and following), are understood to be men. Women appear as wives, consorts, or widows of officials (0288.2 and following). Symmetry in gender is not sought; hence we do not see words for empresses, female officials or widowers.

Conclusion The “Pentaglot” offers a unique opportunity for conducting a comparative study of a wide variety of gender concepts. A comparative approach is not only possible between the five languages of this monument, but also between different fields as far apart as inanimate things, animals, musicology and persons. From the study of inanimate things it is possible to deduct that a terminology which uses gender terms in one language does not necessarily imply that a different language perceives a gender concept as well, as can be seen from the variation of descriptions for the matching halves, protruding and indented, of particular passports. In these cases, the least common denominator is a generic pair concept or symmetry which only in some languages is expressed via gender terms. A different case presents itself in musicology. Here, all five languages employ gender terminology, sometimes borrowed (both from languages within and outside the “Pentaglot”: Turki combines Chinese and Arab elements in its terminology). Tibetan juxtaposes two words of similar meaning into something that is essentially pleonastic. When we move away from abstract applications of sex- and gender-related terminology and study the names of animals, we can identify two patterns for the generation of sex-specific names. In one group, there are languages like Manju and Mongo-

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lian for the speakers of which male and female animals are so distinct (due to sexual and behavioral bimorphism) that they deserve completely different names. In other languages (notably Chinese and Tibetan, but to a lesser extent also Turki), animal names reflect a class of objects to the names of which optional sex markers can be attached, either via prefix (Chinese, Turki) or via postfix (Tibetan). It cannot be totally excluded that the pattern similarity between these languages is a result of the compilation process of the “Pentaglot”, and thus an artifact. True gender terminology in the sense of modern gender studies can only be found for names of emperors, rulers, officials and military men. These are understood to be men. Women appear either as wives or consorts, or widows of the latter group of men.

Literature Corff, Oliver / Kyoko Maezono / Wolfgang Lipp / Dorjpalam Dorj, Görööchin Gerelmaa / Aysima Mirsultan / Réka Stüber / Byambajav Töwshintögs, Xieyan Li (eds.): Auf kaiserlichen Befehl erstelltes Wörterbuch des Manjurischen in fünf Sprachen. “Fünfsprachenspiegel”. Systematisch angeordneter Wortschatz auf Manjurisch, Tibetisch, Mongolisch, Turki und Chinesisch. Vollständige romanisierte und revidierte Ausgabe mit textkritischen Anmerkungen, deutschen Erläuterungen und Indizes. Wiesbaden, Harrassowitz 2013, ISBN 978-3-447-06970-0. Corff, Oliver: “Some Notes on the Relationship between Turki Orthography and Manju Rendering of the Pentaglot.” In Eine hundertblättrige Tulpe — Bir ṣadbarg lāla. Festgabe für Claus Schönig. Edited by Ingeborg Hauenschild / Matthias Kappler / Barbara Kellner-Heinkele, 20–29. Hauenschild, Ingeborg / Matthias Kappler / Barbara Kellner-Heinkele (eds.): Eine hundertblättrige Tulpe — Bir ṣadbarg lāla. Festgabe für Claus Schönig. Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 2016. (Studien zur Sprache, Geschichte und Kultur der Turkvölker, 22).

Bair Dugarov and Esuna Dugarova

The Image of Alan-goa — the Foremother of Genghis Khan “The Secret History of the Mongols” (1240) is a literary and historical masterpiece that tells about the life of Genghis Khan, the founder of the Mongol Empire. Female characters play an important role in this work, which primarily refers to Alan-goa1 — the foremother of the khan clan Bordzhigin. Her image occupies a significant place in the opening section of the “Secret History”, which is devoted to the genealogy of the Mongols’ ancestors and is rich in mythological motifs. The knowledge of a genealogy of one’s own clan and tribe was considered compulsory among the Mongolian peoples, for it nourished and shaped the historical memory and ethnic identity. Let us turn to the text which tells a story about the marriage of Alan-goa, the birth and upbringing of her children, to whom a cautionary parable about five twigs is addressed. The story is in fact the original ‘node’ in the history of the direct ancestors of Genghis Khan, namely Bodonchar — son of Alan-goa, the founder of the khan’s clan Bordzhigin. The story begins as follows. Once Dobun-Mergen, the future husband of Alan-goa, climbed Mount Burkhan-Khaldun with his older brother Duva-Sokhor. Duva-Sokhor had only one eye in the middle of his forehead with which he could see as much as three nomadic areas. While watching from the peak of Burkhan-Khaldun, he saw that in the downstream river Tengelik a group of people was nomadizing, among whom was a good-looking young woman traveling in a covered tent. She appealed to farsighted Duva-Sokhor, and he decided to marry her off to his younger brother DobunMergen. Indeed, this girl named Alan-goa, as it turned out when meeting her, was not only attractive but also unmarried, ‘not even being promised to marry’. In addition, she was from ‘a very noble family’, a daughter of Khorilartay-Mergen, the leader of the tribe Horilar, and Bargudzhin-goa, whose father Barguday-Mergen was the ruler of the country Bargudzhin-Tukum. Alan-goa was born in the region Arikh-Usun on KhoriTumat land. As there were mutual quarrels over the use of hunting lands, the tribe Khorilar headed by the father of Alan-goa nomadized towards the surrounding area of Burkhan-Khaldun in search of free hunting lands, which was known for fine hunting. It is here, on the land protected by the deities of Burkhan-Khaldun — as it is clear 1 The lifetime of Alan-goa, according to the lineage of Genghis Khan (1162–1227) mentioned in the “Secret History”, is approximately the middle of the ninth century. Bair Dugarov and Esuna Dugarova, Institute for Mongolian, Buddhist and Tibetan Studies of the Siberian Branch of the Russian Academy of Sciences (Bair Dugarov), United Nations. (Esuna Dugarova) https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-007

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from the text — where ‘Dobun-Mergen asked for the hand of Alan-goa, the daughter of Khori-Tumat’s Khorilartay-Mergen, born in Arikh-Usun, and in such a way DobunMergen married’ (Kozin, 1941, p. 79–80). After having married, Alan-goa gives birth to two sons from Dobun-Mergen — the “Secret History” states the following: One day in the spring she cooked a mutton so that it turned yellow, gathered her five sons by her side and gave each of them one twig2 to break. They easily did that. Then she asked them to break five twigs linked together. All five men snatched the twigs together and clamped them into fists, but could not break them. Then their mother Alan-goa says: “You my two sons, Belgunotaj and Bugunotaj, condemned me and spoke among yourselves: ‘She gave birth to these three sons, but who are these children from?’ Your suspicions are solid.” “But every night, it happened that through the smoke hole of the yurt, at the hour when the sun is set and the moon had not yet risen, a light brown haired man enters, and caresses my belly, and his light gets into my womb. And he then leaves at a time when the sun and the moon converge, going away like a yellow dog. What nonsense is this? For if one comprehends all this, then it will appear that these sons were marked by the stamp of heavenly origin. How could you talk about them as if they are mere mortals? When they become the kings of the kings, the khans of all, only then all common people will comprehend it!” Then Alan-goa instructed her sons as follows: “All five of you were born from my single womb and you are like the five twigs. If you are going to behave and act only for yourself, you would be easily broken as those twigs. However, if you will be consentient and unanimous, as that bundle of twigs, how can you easily become someone’s prey?”. Saying these cautionary words of farewell, as a testament to her sons, Alan-goa soon died.3

The above text about Alan-goa is certainly based on the oral tribal traditions of Bordzhigin. They were summarized by the author of the “Secret History” who brought an appropriate ideological orientation to its written form. As can be seen from the text, the image of Alan-goa is described in positive terms: she is a beautiful woman of noble origin; the respectable social status of her parents is highlighted with a full listing of their names, the name of the tribe and the place from which they originate. These data are of interest not only for clarifying the ethnic origin of Alan-goa, but also for determining the circle of ethno-cultural, marital-family and economic ties of the ancient Mongolian tribes. From the outset, the sacred tone of the narrative about Alan-goa is provided by the fact that she was ‘spotted’ by Duva-Sokhor, whose ‘only eye in his forehead’ has

2 Kozin translates the word müsüt as “хворостинка” (Kozin, 1941, p. 80), which we in turn translate as “twig” rather than the commonly used term “arrow-shaft”. We consider a “twig” more appropriate, for Alan-goa to let her children break arrows looks like a somewhat luxurious gesture, in view of the value of arrows which were always needed for hunting or defending against enemies. In principle, the material used by Alan-goa (be it twigs or arrows) does not affect the essence of the mother’s instruction to her sons to live in peace and harmony, which will help them to be strong and invincible. 3 Translated after Kozin, 1941, p. 81.

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helped him see the Khori-tumat beauty at a distance of three miles. The symbol of the eye in the forehead, as it is known, is often regarded in a mythological term as a sign of the supernatural power of vision and the ability of foresight. Alan-goa was visible for the eye of Duva-Sokhor from the top of Burkhan-Khaldun, which also carries a symbolic meaning. Burkhan-Khaldun is considered a sacred mountain of the ancient Mongols, their sacred center, as evidenced by ancestral deities mentioned in the text which are connected with this cult object. Consequently, the phenomenon of Alangoa, according to the mythologized description in the “Secret History”, did not have a random nature, but was as if implicitly determined and ordained from above, because she was destined to become the progenitress of Genghis Khan’s clan. This sacred thread of the story has its culmination in the story of three sons of Alangoa, who were born in an extraordinary way after the death of her husband DobunMergen. In the context of the parable about five twigs, the mother speaks about them as sons ‘marked by heavenly origin’ and descendants who are destined to become ‘the kings of the kings, khans of all’. These words by Alan-goa were conveyed in the text in the form of verses, which shows their special significance. They are projected primarily on Bodonchar, the youngest of her sons — the founder of the Bordzhigin clan and the direct ancestor of Genghis Khan. The very same story about Alan-goa’s immaculate conception, outlined rather vaguely with mysterious omissions, hints at Alan-goa’s connection with a celestial (sun) god penetrated through the smoke hole of the yurt as a yellow man who was the personification of a sunbeam. Here it is apparently about the ancient folk motif — a miraculous conception or birth (parthenogenesis), the motif which was linked to the idea of a heavenly origin among the nomads of Central Asia and their ruling families. This idea was based on the religious and mythological tradition that existed among nomads from ancient times and was connected with their traditional beliefs, especially with the cult of the sky and sun worship. It is no accident that Nikita Bichurin in his comments to the historical sources on Central Asia noted that the uranian (solar) motifs in genealogical stories of ancient nomads are ‘among the fictions which in Asia are usually made about the birth of a famous person’ (Bichurin, 1950, p. 154). Thus, in a tradition widely spread among Turkic peoples about the ancestor Oghuz-khan who had the features of a cultural hero, it is said that the mother conceived her son from the rays of sunlight. From an early age he distinguished himself as a hero, became a khagan as an adult who accomplished many successful conquests. All major milestones of his life were marked by the connection with the sky painted by solar motifs: a marriage with a heavenly virgin who came down to him in the rays of light, a golden bow and three silver arrows sent by the celestial gods to his sons (Basilov, 1992, p. 240). A similar legend about the origin is related to the emperor Yelü Ambagan — the founder of the Kidan State or Liao Empire (end of the 9th — beginning of the 10th century). It tells that before getting pregnant, his mother saw a dream, as if the sun fell into her chest. From childhood, the baby was distinct due to his strength, courage,

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combativeness and wit, and was also very smart and did not look like others. He was excellent at riding horses and shooting from a bow by punching iron with an arrow. The sign, confirming the heavenly origin of the emperor, was already demonstrated in his relatively mature age. One night, over the place where he was sleeping, there was a light that frightened and surprised everybody. All nomads feared his courage, and there was not anybody who would not obey him. When he first declared himself the emperor, all his countrymen began to call him Tianhuang Wang — Heavenly Emperor (E Lun-li, 1979, p. 41–42). It should be noted that both legends which clearly have a solar motif exhibit a certain typological similarity with the initial part of the “Secret History” telling about Alan-goa and her son Bodonchar born from a sun ray. According to researchers, this part of the work, which is a description of the Bordzhigin lineage (Shastina, 1970, p. 436), is more reminiscent of the literary processing of the oral tradition about Genghis Khan’s ancestor — Bodonchar (Gumilev, 1970, p. 461). It is said in the text that, unlike his brothers, he was distinguished by acumen, military qualities that were instilled by falconry, and inclination for leadership, which in total helped him to become the head of the tribe that he conquered. Therefore, it is no accident that the line of a heavenly origin which comes from him acquires an appropriate embodiment in his offspring — Genghis Khan, the founder of the Mongol state. In our opinion, the roll call of the solar myth in genealogical traditions of the Turks, Kidans and their historical successors — Mongols (Viktorova, 1980, p. 165, 194) is quite natural. Historically, the idea of a heavenly origin or the concept of the son of heaven is the cornerstone of the ideology of the ruling clans of ancient militarypolitical associations and government entities on the territory of the Great steppe. The role of the sky in the context of religious and mythological beliefs was realized as a manifestation of some higher power, which endowed elected leaders and rulers with heavenly grace and without which their power in the minds of nomads considered illegitimate. Therefore, the mythological story about the celestial origin of the Bordzhigins told by Alan-goa, according to the author of the “Secret History”, serves to justify the legitimacy and the sacralization of Genghis Khan’s authority. The memory of Alan-goa is permanently preserved in the memory of the ruling dynasty of the Mongols. The respectful title eshi-eke ‘mother — the root of the clan’ (eshi literally means ‘trunk, stem, root’, eke — ‘mother’) or eshi-qatun ‘queen — the root of the clan’ was used to highlight her eminence as the progenitress of the Bordzhigin clan. Among the Mongol Genghisids there existed a sacral rite “Mengen iragu” (Menggen iraɣu), which was accompanied by a libation of wine in honour of Sutu qatun — possessing the greatness of the khatun (one of the honorary titles of Alan-goa). It was performed in special cases, according to the hallowed tradition of shamanic ceremonies. Thus, in the “History of the wise Queen Mandukhaj (Manduqai

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Secen-yin domoq)”,4 telling about one of the dramatic moments of the Mongolian history, there is a description of this ceremony with the participation of Queen Mandukhaj. She addresses the spirit Alan-goa — Eshi-khatun (Eshi-qatun) invocating to support her in strengthening the throne of the Genghisids and bless the birth of sons who can worthily continue the dynasty of Genghis Khan (Lubsan Danzan, 1973, p. 278, 279, 366). Finally, it should be noted that the parable about five twigs, which leads Alangoa to the education of her sons, urging them to mutual support, peace and harmony, also carries an important ideological meaning. The topic raised in this parable was relevant to Mongol society at that time, torn apart by internal tribal contradictions. It was Genghis Khan who was destined, as historical events showed, to fulfill the covenant of the progenitress Alan-goa,5 unite disparate tribes and create a strong unified Mongolia (Gaadamba, 1961, p. 5–6). Thus, Alan-goa in the context of the “Secret History” is presented as the true progenitress of the Bordzhigin genus whose maternal cult responded to the ideology of tribal kinship and was the sacral core of ethnic self-organisation of descendants named nirun-mongols. The solar motif in the interpretation of the image of Alan-goa has a deep symbolism associated with the significance of the uranian factor in the religious and mythological beliefs of Mongol nomads. At the same time, the image of Alan-goa as a wise foremother of Genghis Khan attests to the historically important role of women in the Mongol world.

References Basilov, Vladimir. “Oghuz-khan”, in Myths of the world’s nations. Moscow, 1992. Bichurin, Nikita. Collection of information about peoples in Central Asia in ancient times. Moscow-Leningrad, 1950. Gaadamba Shanzhmyatavyn. “‘The Secret History of the Mongols’ as a monument of fiction literature (XIII c.).” Synopsis of PhD thesis, Moscow, 1961. Gumilev, Lev. “‘The secret’ and ‘explicit’ history of the Mongols XII-XIII centuries.”, in Tatar — Mongols in Asia and Europe: Proceedings. Moscow: Nauka, 1970. E Lun-li. The history of the Kidan state. Moscow, 1979.

4 “The History about the wise Queen Mandukhay (Manduqai Secen-yin domoq)”, preserved in the annals of the 17th century, is considered one of the finest examples of medieval Mongolian poetry. 5 It is noteworthy that there is another, later kind of the parable about five twigs, testifying to its ideological relevance. In this folk story, which was set out twice in the annals of Juvaini, the actor is not Alan-goa, but Genghis Khan himself. Reproaching his sons for the unfriendly attitude towards each other, he distributed arrows from a quiver among them and offered to break each one separately and then several ones together (Juvaini, 1958, vol. I, p. 40, vol. II, p. 594).

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Juvaini. The history of the World-Conqueror. Translated from the text of Mirza Muhammad Qazvini by J. A. Boyle. Vol. I–II. Manchester, 1958. Kozin, Sergej. The Secret History. Moscow-Leningrad, 1941. Lubsan Danzan. Altan tobchi. Translation from Mongolian, introduction and appendices by N. P. Shastina. Moscow, 1973. Shastina, Nina. “The image of Genghis Khan in the medieval literature of the Mongols”. In The Tatar — Mongols in Asia and Europe: Proceedings. Moscow: Nauka, 1970. Viktorova Lidiya. “The Mongols. The origin of the people and sources of the culture”. Moscow, 1980.

Roger Finch (1937–2019)

Gender Distinctions in Nouns and Pronouns of the Altaic Languages Gender, as expressed in various languages of the world, may be either natural or grammatical. In the Indo-European languages, such as Sanskrit, Greek, and Latin, there are three genders: masculine, feminine, and neuter, as exemplified by the personal pronouns of Latin: is ‘he,’ ea ‘she,’ id ‘it,’ and the demonstrative pronouns ille (m.), illa (f.), illud (n.) ‘that one,’ and in pairs of nouns such as puer ‘boy,’ puella ‘girl,’ and filius ‘son’ and filia ‘daughter’ — derived from the same root — or pater ‘father’ and mater ‘mother’ from different roots; grammatical gender, however, does not necessarily correspond to natural gender as, for instance, in the case of agricola ‘farmer,’ nauta ‘sailor,’ and poeta ‘poet,’ feminine in form but most often likely to refer to men. Most of the Indo-European languages have retained these historic gender distinctions, not only in their pronominal systems, as in German, with er ‘he,’ sie ‘she,’ and es ‘it,’ or in French, which has lost the neuter gender but has retained the other two, as in il ‘he’ and elle ‘she,’ and both of which yet preserve grammatical gender distinctions for all nouns, even for those words which possess no natural gender. English, however, has lost all trace of such distinctions, except for the third person singular pronoun he, she, and it. In the case of the Turkic languages, Chuvash, Mongolian, and Manchu-Tungus, there is no distinction of gender in the system of pronouns, either in the first and second person, or even in the third person, which is expressed by a demonstrative pronoun generally signifying ‘this one’ or ‘that one’. In the case of Korean and Japanese, however, there is an extensive repertory of terms taken over from the category of nouns in the language, characterizing not only the person spoken of but also the speaker himself and the person spoken to, according to the nature of the underlying relationship that exists between them. In addition to what might be termed the ‘core’ languages of the Altaic family, Ainu has been included here, not so much on the basis of its grammatical structure (which is not so characteristically ‘agglutinative’ as the languages contiguous to it along the Pacific rim of northern Asia) but because of the possible lexical exchanges that may have occurred between them, especially with Japanese. Finally, both Eskimo and the genetically affiliated Aleut language of the Aleutian Island chain stretching from the southwestern tip of Alaska westward toward Siberia, have been included in this study, not simply since they belong typologically to the agglutinative group of the world’s languages but because there are certain resemblances in vocabulary which are too basic to be borrowings and suggest, rather, a genetic connection to the Altaic group. Roger Finch (1937–2019), USA, Independent Scholar https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-008

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In addition to what might be termed the ‘core’ Altaic languages — Turco-Chuvash, Mongolian, and Manchu-Tungus, this study will also include the two genetically related languages spoken on the far eastern rim of this language family by members of this group — the Koreans and the Japanese — who migrated from the area assumed to be the original homeland of the Altaic people in Central Asia and settled in lands along the Pacific Ocean. The proximity to the great civilization of the Empire of China adjacent to them has had a profound effect on their culture, as might be expected, so that in the case of both these people, not only did they come to use the writing system of the Chinese to record their respective languages but also incorporated a wide spectrum of vocabulary to refer to items and express concepts which did not yet exist in their own languages (just as in English and German there is a large percentage of ‘learned’ vocabulary borrowed from Latin and Greek). As a result, such loanwords must be identified and excluded from any comparative study with those more central languages of the Altaic family. The hypothesis of a genetic affiliation between both Japanese and Korean and ‘the other’ Altaic languages was brought forward in two major publications by Roy Andrew Miller, the first in 1967, in his The Japanese Language, and the second — in a more comprehensive and explicit form — in Japanese and the Other Altaic Languages. Not that this was the first time the topic had been touched upon by Western scholars, for the possible connection between the ‘core’ Altaic languages and Japanese and/or Korean was suggested as early as the middle of the nineteenth century in articles by Anton Boller (1857); M. A. Castrén (1862); H. Winkler (1909); Wilhelm Pröhle (1916-17) and Gustav J. Ramstedt (1949; 1952), as well as by Japanese scholars such as Kanazawa Shozaburo (1910); Hattori Shiro (1948); Ono Susumu (1952); Murayama Shichiro and Ozawa Shigeo (1968), though many of the publications of the latter group escaped the attention of most Western scholars since they were for the most part written in Japanese. Tracing the migration of the Japanese from the Altaic Urheimat in Central Asia, in the wake of that of the Ainu from a point farther north (probably contiguous to the area yet occupied by the Paleo-Asiatic peoples), Irving Rouse, in his comprehensive work, Migrations in Prehistory, states that, “Japan was almost certainly peopled before either the Pacific Islands or the New World. The Korean and Tsushima Straits, like the Bering Strait, were dry during the periods of Pleistocene glaciation, and they are far enough south to have been traversed by the first humans who expanded out of tropical Asia into the temperate parts. It is not clear to what extent the northern and southern ends of the Japanese archipelago were also connected to the mainland. In any event, Japan’s longer time of occupation increases the difficulty of distinguishing later arrivals from the original inhabitants.” Research regarding the artifacts of the Jomon people and their culture led to the general conclusion that the Jomon people were in fact ancestral to the Ainu and, considering the historic situation of the Ainu in Hokkaido and the gradual migration of certain groups of their population into that region from Honshu, archeologists con-

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cluded that the Jomon people were the aboriginal inhabitants of Japan and that they had been gradually displaced by the Japanoid people who were speakers of a language of the Altaic linguistic stock and were migrants from the mainland, and in the process of being ousted from their original settlements in the main island of the archipelago had ‘developed’ into the Ainu. In support of this hypothesis, the discovery, in 1897, of Jomon pottery in a shell midden at Omori, in Tokyo Bay, led to the conclusion that these artifacts had been deposited there by a hunting and fishing population, such as the Ainu. Historians generally came to accept this conclusion and also proceeded to identify the Emishi, inhabitants of northern Honshu during the earlisest period, as Ainu, and as part of the migratory pattern of the Japanese, these people were ousted from their original homeland or were gradually assimilated by them. However, the alternative to this hypothesis is that the Emishi themselves were Japanoid peoples not yet affected by the ‘rise to civilization’ in central Japan, as now appears to be the case. Further examination of the Japanoid remains, however, revealed certain distinguishing characteristics between two successive peoples and cultures: Yayoi and Kofun. These two groups came to be identified as the Wa who were referred to in Chinese sources and had contact with contemporary local peoples in Korea; and in the sites of their habitations have been found bronze mirrors and coins among other objects in the style of particular dynasties ruling China at that period. In tracing the historical background and the gradual racial and linguistic evolution of these Altaic peoples, it may be postulated that an original Proto-Altaic group at some distant point in the past divided into a Western branch (the ancestors of the present-day Turkic and Chuvash peoples) and a Proto-Eastern-Altaic branch. By about 4228 B. C. a Proto-Tungusic branch had separated from a Proto-Mongol branch that by 2665 B. C. had become distinct from the rest of the family, and by about the same time a Proto-Peninsular and Pelagic branch had separated from the Tungusic peoples. The date of 1 A. D. has somewhat arbitrarily been selected as the point in time when the Mongol, Tungus and Manchu (from Tungusic), and the Korean and Japanese (from the Peninsular and Pelagic branch) became distinct, and by 520 A. D. a branch of Ryukyuan dialects, spoken in the Ryukyu Islands between Japan and Formosa, differed enough from the mother tongue to by classified separately. Perhaps the major factor controverting the inclusion of Ainu as a member of a larger linguistic family comprising not only all of the Altaic languages listed above, but also the Eskimo and Aleut languages which, though exhibiting fewer clearly identifiable cognates with corresponding words in any of the Altaic languages, is not only that the structure of Ainu differs substantially from that of both Altaic and EskimoAleut, but that the racial characteristics of Ainu and the speakers of those other languages are so markedly different. In various tables compiled by anthropologists listing the crucial physical features characterizing the various races of mankind, it is obvious that the Ainu people bear little physical resemblance to peoples who are native speakers of the other languages included in this study. In one of these charts, labeled

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‘Outline Racial Classification of Mankind’ (in Kroeber, A. L., Biology and Race) there are seven physical features listed as the basis for classification, and in this chart there is one race, Mongolian (here abbreviated ‘Mo.’) in the Altaic family, to contrast with Ainu. These features are: Texture of Hair of Head: Mo.: straight; Ainu: wavy; Hair of body and Face: Mo.: slight; Ainu: abundant; Head: Mo.: broad; Ainu: narrow; Nose: Mo.: medium; Ainu: medium; Prognathism: Mo. medium; Ainu: medium; Skin Color: Mo. light brown; Ainu: light brown; Stature: Mo.: below average; Ainu: medium. The concluding remarks for each of these races are: Mo.: Broad face, Mongolian eye; and Ainu: Probably generalized Caucasian. In a chart showing three large groups symbolized by circles (op. cit. p. 94), the first comprises four smaller circles, two of which are ‘Nordic’ and ‘Alpine’ and ‘Ainu’ is placed, not within the circle, but on the cusp, verging toward the adjacent circle which includes circles labled ‘American Indian’ and ‘Asiatic Mongoloids’. In the text there are remarks aimed specifically at the Ainu, stating that, “The Ainu survive in northern Japan in much the same relation to the Japanese as the Indians occupy to the whites in the United States, except that the contact has been longer and the Ainu are fewer. They are not slant-eyed, their hair is wavy, and they favor bushy beards, which give them a superficial resemblance to Russian muzhiks of the old school. Many anthropologists have accordingly reckoned them as an early Caucasoid offshoot or outpost. However, to the north of them, in easternmost Siberia, there lives a series of ‘uncivilized’ peoples, sometimes grouped together as Paleo-Asiatics who, though genetically Mongoloid in type, are less markedly so than the Mongols, Chinese, Japanese, and so on. For instance, their eye fold is less pronounced, and they incline to longish instead of round heads. “Take this Mongoloid subtype and let it genetically develop hirsuteness and hair waviness through a mutation in the former relative isolation of the northern Japanese islands, and we have the Ainu pretty well accounted for, without bringing in the Caucasian relationship, which raises other geographic and historical problems.” The author goes on to state, “However, neither of the alternative views can as yet be claimed as fully demonstrable.” In a five-volume collection of reprinted articles entitled Origins of the Ainu Language: The Ainu Indo-European Controversy, published in 1998, there is an article by Heinrich Koppelmann, ‘Die Eurasische Sprachfamilie: Indogermanisch, Koreanisch und Verwandtes,’ published in Heidelberg in 1933, in which the author presents charts showing comparative evidence of similarities in the first and second person pronouns, singular and plural, in nine different languages: Ainu, Samoyed, Finnish, Turkish, Buryat, Manchu, Sumerian, Gilyak, and Korean, as compared with Indo-European, and in these examples there is a high degree of correspondence. Another source is a study by Yasumoto Biten and Honda Masahisa, Nihongo-no Tanjô (Birth of the Japanese Language), in which they give a list of 200 words (including nouns, pronouns, adjectives, and verbs) comparing those in Japanese with the same words in a wide variety of languages, including Manchu, Mongolian, Turkish, Finnish, Hungarian, and Gilyak (Section 4.1) and Indonesian, Tagalog, Ami, Paiwan,

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and Atayal (Section 2.1). Section 1 lines up not only modern spoken Japanese but also old Japanese and the Shuri dialect of the language against Middle Korean and Ainu. Examples of words which are included also in the present study are: man Tky. otoko; OJap. wo; MKor. sanaha; Ainu okkayo person Tky. hito; OJap. hitö; MKor. sarAm; Ainu aynu woman Tky. onna; OJap. me; MKor. kyechip; Ainu mat ~ menoko child Tky. kodomo; OJap. waratta; MKor. ahai; Ainu hekattar father Tky. chichi; OJap. titi; MKor. apanim; Ainu michi husband Tky. otto; OJap. wotsuma; MKor. syâ’ong; Ainu hoku(-hu) mother Tky. haha; OJap. haha ~ ömö; MKor. enmanim; Ainu hapo wife Tky. tsuma; OJap. tuma ~ me; MKor. kas; Ainu mat ~ machi On close inspection, however, only a few of these examples are particularly convincing and none of them match throughout the entire correspondence set. This may be largely due to semantic drift, however, and cognate examples might turn up on inspection elsewhere in the vocabulary. Finally, Merritt Ruhlen, in his comprehensive study on the genetic affiliations of the various language families of the world, On the Origin of Languages (date), presents, in Table 2: Eurasiatic Cognates, a list of 30 words in Indo-European, Uralic, Turkic, Mongolian, Tungus, Korean, Japanese, Ainu, Gilyak, Chukchi-Kamchatkan, and Eskimo-Aleut, of which 17 words in Ainu and 18 in Eskimo-Aleut have cognates in certain of the other languages, but only one of the nouns, ‘older brother’ happens to be included in the present study. Data utilized here have been drawn from the following languages: Old Turkic, Uigur, East Turki, Koibal, Yakut, Chagatai, Khakas, Khwarezmian, Oguz, Kipchak, Koman, Osmanli; Chuvash; Middle Mongolian, Mongolian, Buryat; Manchu, Tungus, Lamut, Udihe; Korean; Japanese; Ainu; Eskimo; and Aleut. These languages will be listed in this order in the separate lists of pronouns grouped according to phonological structure as possible cognates, and in the lists of nouns referring to specific kinship terms such as ‘father,’ ‘mother,’ ‘brother,’ ‘sister’ and the like.

Pronouns — Overview In this section, an overview of pronouns is attempted in two approaches. Once, pronouns of four languages are presented in tabular form, for Old Turkic (see table 1), Korean (see tables 2 and 3), Japanese (see table 4) and Ainu (see table 5). In contrast, the Comparative List of Pronouns, starting on page 64, groups pronouns by their initials: e-/i-, b-/m-, s-/š-, o-/a-, k-, t- and n-.

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Table 1: Old Turkic Pronouns Old Turkic Original 3rd person (?) inčä ‘so; thus’ inčip ‘but; yet’ inčäk ‘?’ Demonstrative Pronouns bo (bu) ‘this’ (< *mu, cf. OMo. mun ‘he’) Singular Nom. bo (bu) ‘this’ Gen. (bunuŋ; moñuŋ) Acc. buni ~ muni

Plural Nom. bolar ‘these’ Gen. bolarniŋ Acc. bolarni šo ‘those there’ Loc. šunda ‘here; hither; this way’ ol ‘that’

Nom. ol Gen. anıŋ ‘his; her; their’ Dat. aŋar (< *an-ɣaru) Acc. ani Loc. anta; anda

Table 2: Korean Pronouns Korean Personal Pronouns First person Sg. nä ‘I’ Nom. nä(< nai) Gen. nä(< nayi) Acc. nal/naril

Pl. uri ‘we’ uri/urimuri uri(< *wuri; cf Tk. biz) —

Second person Sg. ne ‘you’ Nom. ne(< nei) Gen. ne(< neyi) Acc. nel/neril

Pl. nehli ‘you’ nehli nedil nelidil

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Table 3: Nouns Used as Personal Pronouns Nouns Used as Personal Pronouns For the First person ‘I’ če ‘younger brother’ pon-in ‘subordinate man’ syo-in(soinne) ‘little man’ syo-sän ‘little disciple’

syoja ‘small person’ sisäŋ ‘youngster’ pok ‘servant’

For the Second person ‘you’ hyeŋ ‘elder brother’ nohyeŋ ‘eldest brother’ koŋ ‘well-known person; duke’ taŋsin ‘the person in question’ yaŋban ‘one of upper rank’

sebaŋ ‘mister’ i-phyen ‘the one here’ täk ‘home owner’ sensäŋ ‘teacher’ nimja ‘owner’

For the Third person: Demonstratives ‘he/she/it; they’ kI, kIi or ki saram ‘that man/ woman; he/she’ kiget/čeget ‘that; it; that thing’ ii; čei(če); kyi ‘this one; that one’ < i ‘someone’ čya ‘person’; ija; čeja; kija ‘this one; that one; he/she’ nom ‘fellow’: i nom; če nom; ki nom ‘he’ jo nom; čo nom; ko nom (deprecative) ‘he’

Table 4: Japanese Pronouns Japanese Pronouns (Classical Period) First person: wa ~ ware; onore; soregashi; yatsugare Second person: na ~ nare; nanji; onore; sonata; sochi Third person: A. (near the speaker): ko ~ kore B. (near the addressee): so ~ sore C. (in the distance): ka ~ kare; a ~ are Modern Usage First person: (formal) watakushi ~ watashi; (familiar) washi; (used by women) atakushi ~ atashi; (familiar, used mostly by men): temae; waga-hai; boku;(vulgar) ore ~ ora ~ oira. Second person: (formal) anata ~ anta; sensei ‘professor; master’; (familiar — used mostly by men) omae ~ kimi; (vulgar or condescending) kisama; (vulgar) temae. Third person: A. (near the speaker): (formal) konokata;(familiar) konohito;(vulgar) koitsu. B. (near the addressee): sonokata ~ sonohito ~ soitsu. C. (in the distance): anokata ~ anohito ~ aitsu;(neutral): kare

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Table 5: Ainu Pronouns Ainu Pronouns First person Sg. ku ‘I’ Nom. k-, ku, kuani, kani Gen. ku koro Obj. en

Pl. chi ‘we’ chi, chi utara chi koro i

Second person Sg. e ‘you’ Nom. e, eani, yani; anokai, aokai Gen. e koro Obj. e

Pl. echi ‘you’ echi, echi utara echi koro echi

Third person Sg. shiroma Nom. shiroma/shinuma tan guru ‘this person’ tambe ‘this thing’

Pl. shiroma utara shiroma/shinuma utara nei utara

Comparative List of Pronouns Pronouns with initial e-/iOT inčä ‘so; thus’; inaru(< *in-ɣaru) ‘furthermore’ Yak. iti ‘that (there)’; Acc. itin MMo. *i ‘he; she; it’; Gen. inu; Acc. imayi Mo. ene ‘this (one)’; Gen. egün-ü; Acc. egün-i; ede ‘these (ones)’; Gen. eden-ü; Acc. eden-i Bur. ö:hön ‘he; she; it’; Gen. ö:höni; Dat. ö:höndö; ö:höt ‘they’; Gen. ö:höSi; Dat. ö:höttö Lam. erek (pl. erel) ‘this one’ Ud. eji ‘this (one)’; Acc. awa; Dat. odu ‘here’ Kor. ii; čei (če-i); kyi ‘this one/that one’ < i ‘someone’ Ainu e/eani/yani ‘you (sg.)’; Gen. e koro; echi/echi utara ‘you’(pl.); Gen. echi koro Esk. ellii ‘he/she’; Dual elkek; Pl. ellait; ellmi ‘himself/herself’; Dual ellmek; Pl. ellmeng Aleut ingan ‘he/she’; Dual ingaku,(Dat. ikin); Pl. ingaku(Dat. ngin); igim ‘himself/herself’; Dual imak; Pl. imang Pronouns with initial b-/mOT bo(bu) ‘this’; Acc. buni ~ muni Yak. bu ‘this (here)’; Acc. mani Tg. mänäkän ‘himself; herself’; Acc. mänmän; Pl. mänäkär ‘themselves’; Acc. Mär wätin Pronouns with initial s-/š-

OT šo ‘those there’; Loc. šunda ‘here; hither’ Yak. sol ‘that very’; Acc. sonu Chuv. šak (a) ‘that there’; šav ‘that one over there’; Acc. šavna Kor. čya ‘person’; ija; čeja; kija ‘this one; that one; he/she’ Jap. so ~ sore ‘that one (near the addressee)’; sonokata (formal) Ainu shiroma/shinuma utara ‘they’; nei utara ‘them’ Pronouns with initial o-/aOT ol ‘that (one)’; Gen. anıŋ ‘his/her; their’; Dat. aŋar(< *an-ɣaru) Yak. ol ‘that’; Acc. onu Chuv. vål ‘that’; Gen. un(ån); Acc. åna; leš ‘that distant one’ (< ?*o-leš) MMo. *a ‘they’; Gen. anu Jap. a ~ are ‘that one (in the distance)’; ano kata (formal) ‘that person’ Pronouns with initial kYak. kini ‘he; she; it’ Chuv. ku ‘this’; Acc. kuna Jap. ko ~ kore ‘this one’; konokata (formal); ka ~ kare ‘that one’ (in the distance); kare ‘he’; kimi ~ kisama ‘you’

Gender Distinctions in Nouns and Pronouns

Kor. ki/ki saram ‘that man/woman; he/she; they’; kiget/čeget ‘that; it; that thing’ Ainu ku(k-); kuani/kani ‘I/my/me’; Gen. ku koro; Obj. en Esk. kiinga ‘he/she alone’; Dual kiigkenka; Pl. kiingita ‘they alone’; kiimi ‘himself/herself alone’; Dual kiimek; Pl. kiimeng Pronouns with initial tMo. tere ‘that (one)’; Acc. tegün-i; Pl. tede those (ones); Gen. teden-ü Bur. tere ‘that one’; Gen. tere:ni/teru:ni; tede ‘those (ones)’ Lam. taraq ‘that one’ (Pl. taral); Gen. tarñii Ud. teji ‘that (one)’; Acc. tawa; tadu ‘there’

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Ainu tan guru ‘this person’; chi/chi utara ‘we’; chi kara ‘our’ (< ?*ti); i ‘us’ Esk. tamiin (~ tamalkuan) ‘him/her’; Dual tamarkenka; Pl. tamaita; tamarmi ( ~ tamalkurmi) ‘himself/herself’; Dual tamarmek; Pl. tamarmeng Pronouns with initial nTg. nuñan ‘he/she/it’; Gen. nuñañi; nuñar ‘they’; Gen. nuñarñi Lam. noñan ‘he/she/it’; Acc. noñman; noñartan ‘they’; Acc. noñarbutan Ud. nua ‘he/she/it’; Acc. nuaman; Pl. nuati ‘they’; Acc. nuatiwe Kor. nom ‘fellow’; i nom; če nom; ki nom ‘he’

Kinship Terms in the Altaic Languages The following overview of kinship terms in the Altaic languages lists kinship terms in the following order: a) general terms and blood relationship: woman, old man, old woman, young man, young woman, boy, girl, ancestor (male), ancestor (female), grandfather, grandmother, father, mother, brother, sister, son, daughter, elder brother, younger brother, elder sister, younger sister, father’s brother, father’s sister, mother’s brother, mother’s sister (younger), — b) marriage relationship: husband, wife, husband’s father, husband’s mother, wife’s father, wife’s mother, husband’s sister, husband’s brother, wife’s sister (younger), wife’s brother (younger), daughter’s husband, son’s wife, elder brother’s wife, younger brother’s wife, elder sister’s husband and younger sister’s husband. Languages are listed in order of language groups: Turkic languages – Mongolian languages – Tungusic languages — Japanese, Ainu and Eskimo. See p. 61 for the complete list of languages. Woman OT uruɣut; iši ‘lady’; tiši ‘female’ Ork. eši ‘lady; woman’; qoduz; yotuz ET. aɣačae Uig. iši ‘lady’; tiši ‘female’ NUig. xatun ~ xotun; aɣača; mäzzüm (< Ar.) ‘woman; wife’; köč ‘woman’; kiši ‘woman; wife’; bägüm ‘madame; lady; woman’ Kaz. azamača ‘woman’; eyel ‘lady; woman’; bike ‘young lady’ Osm. kadın ‘woman’; ninä ‘mama’; ninä kadın ‘grandma’

MMo. eme; eme gü’ün; qadun Mo. ekener; eme; (madame) aqai Khal. em (ems); emegte; xatan; exner; büsgüi ‘woman’ Mgr. bieri ‘woman’ Dag. eme ‘woman; wife’; emegen ‘female; wife’; emehe ‘wife’; emegen huu ‘woman’ Ord. eme; (married) exener Bur. eme ‘woman’ Kalm. eme ‘woman; female’ Ma. aša ‘elder brother’s wife’ Ev. asi (aši; ahi) ‘woman’

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Even asi (ahi) Neg. asi Or. asa (aha) Orok. asi Jur. hehee (niyalma) ‘woman’ Kor. kyeychip; yephyenney Jap. onna; omina; onago; joshi; fujin Ainu mat ‘female; woman; wife’; menoko ‘woman’ (< Jap.); shiwentep; utaragesh ‘woman’ Esk. arnar Al. an’ɣaɣisinaq Old man OT avıčɣa; kırɣıl ‘gray-haired’ ET baba Koi. aškinak Uig. avıčɣa; ɣotsa NUig. 𝛼ɣotsa; ɣotsa; loxan (< Chin.) Kom. abuška MT awınčqa; uluɣpır Chag. abuška ‘husband’ Kaz. kari ‘old man’; šal ‘old person; elder’ Osm. amja; abıja ‘old man; older man’; baba ‘elderly man’ MMo. ötögü gü’ün Mo. ebügen Khal. övgön Mgr. sdôgu ‘old man’ Bur. übge ‘old man’; übge esege ‘father’s father’ Kalm. ötöge (ötkö) ‘old man’ Ma. ečige (ečike) (< Mo.); esxen ‘uncle (father’s younger brother)’ Ev. atirkan (ätirkän; ettiken) ‘old man; husband’; etki ‘husband’s/wife’s father’; eheke (< Yak.) ‘grandfather; uncle (father’s/mother’s elder brother)’ Even etiken ‘old man; husband’; kâgan ‘id’; etki ‘father-in-law (husband’s/ wife’s father); husband’s/wife’s elder brother’; ete ‘grandfather; uncle’ Neg. etki (etti) ‘father-in-; brother-in-law (husband’s/wife’s elder brother)’ etiken (etuxen) ‘old man’ Ud. ekče (*ečike) ‘brother; second cousin (male)’ Nan. ekse (*esiken); eče (ečeke) ‘uncle; husband’s younger brother’ Kor. nulgun ‘old person’ Jap. okina; jii (ya); jijii; rojin Ainu achipo; chacha; chikko

Esk. aŋukaraq Al. allq (alix); aliɣnaq Old woman OT kurtɣa; mama ‘grandmother; mother’ ET baba Koi. ept’i/epše/ipt’i Uig. kurtɣa (kurtka) ‘old woman’; käri; kämpir; moma NUig. käri; kämpir; moma ‘old woman; mother; mama’ Kom. kurtka ‘old woman’ MT qurtɣa/qurtqa Chag. kurtka Kaz. kempir ‘old woman’ Osm. nine; büyük anne ‘grandmother’; mama ‘mother’ Chuv. karčak MMo. emegen Mo. emegen Khal. xösin (xögsin); samgan; emee (emgen) Mgr. xûjin ‘old (woman)’ Ord. emegen; emege-saŋ Bur. emgen ‘grandmother; old woman’ Kalm. emegen eke ‘old woman’ Ma. mama ‘mother; grandmother’ Ev. ati ‘old woman; wife’ Even ata; ate (atey); atika:n ‘grandmother; aunt’ Neg. atixân (atikân) ‘old woman; wife’ Or. ataŋa ‘husband’s mother; wife’s mother’ Ud. atiɣa ‘woman; wife’ Orok. ataka ‘grandmother; mother-in-law’ Jap. uba; baba; ôna; rôjo Kor. nulgun ‘old person’ Ainu huchi ‘grandmother; old woman’ Esk. arnalqu’ar Al. wiqix; iqanax Young man OT yigit ET jigit (zigit); oɣlan Uig. yigit NUig. yigit Kom. yigit MT yigit ‘youth’ Kaz. žigit ‘young man’; nauša ‘teenager’; žas ‘youth’ Osm. yigit Mo. baɣa ‘young man’ Khal. zalačuud (zaluus) ‘young people’

Gender Distinctions in Nouns and Pronouns

Ord. jaluu Dag. bage ‘young man’; bagecude ‘young men’; jaloo ‘youth; young person’ Kalm. baga ‘little’ Ma. beye ‘body; flesh and blood; life; oneself’; jalahi ‘cousin/ nephew of same surname’ Ev. beye ‘man; husband; male’; beyetken ‘boy; lad’; beyegen ‘girl’ Even beyikên ‘man; person’; beyiken (beyeken) ‘doll; shamanist idol’ Or. beye ‘body, self’ Ud. beye ‘self’ Nan. beye ‘body; torso’ Kor. celmun; (fellow) nom Jap. wakai otoko; seinen (< Chin.) Ainu okkai-bo; ikiyap ‘fellow’ Esk. nukalpiɣar Al. sugangix; sugang Young woman OT kırkın (maiden) ET kiz ‘young woman; daughter’ Koi. kas/kes Uig. kırkın; juɣan; čorkan (čokan; čökän) NUig. kiz (kız) ‘girl; unmarried woman’; juɣan; čorkan (čokan) ‘young woman’ MT yinčkä qız ‘maiden’ Chag. kiz ‘young woman; daughter’ Kaz. bikeš; boižetken ‘young lady’ Kom. kız ‘virgin; daughter’ Osm. kız ‘maiden; young woman; daughter’ MMo. ökin; eme gü’ün ‘young woman’ Mo. baɣa; keüken ‘young woman’ Khal. abxa Ord. oxin Bur. xüüxen ‘girl; daughter’; abxai ‘girl; young lady’ Kalm. keüken ‘girl; child’ Kor. assi (aka ssi) Jap. ojôsan; iratsume Ainu matkachi ‘girl’; mat; matne ‘female’ Esk. arnaraq; niviaqsiaq ‘girl’; panik ‘daughter’ Al. an’gaxtax Boy OT urı; oɣul; oɣlan Ork. oɣul ‘child (boy)’ ET bača (beče); bala; oɣlan; oɣul ‘son’ Koi. ol; olak Uig. oɣal (oɣul) ‘child; son; boy; young man’

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NUig. bala ‘child; infant’; oɣol ‘son; child; boy’ MT oɣul qız (‘son or daughter’) ‘child’ Chag. oɣul ‘son; boy’ Khlj. oɣul ‘son’; bala ‘child’ Kaz. balapan ‘baby; child’; nereste ‘infant; young child’; sebi ‘id.’; ködek ‘infant’ Kom. oɣul ( ~ ovul) ‘son’ Osm. oɣlan; oɣul ‘son; boy’ Chuv. ača; ıval MMo. keüken; nu’un Mo. niɣun (boy); čaɣa (little boy) Khal. nugan; xüü; xüvüün; (children) baɣačuud Mgr. bulee ‘child’; k’ugän ‘boy’ Dag. non ‘boy; child’; keku ‘son; child’; ušiken ‘youngster; child’; nialeke ‘youngest’; nialekekeku ‘youngest child’ Ord. küü ‘son; boy’ Bur. xüüge(n) ‘child; baby’; nugan ‘son; boy’ Kalm. köwüün ‘son; boy’ Ma. jui ( ~ sui) ‘son; child; infant’ (< Chin.); tunggel ‘young boy’ Ev. omolgi; (child, infant) kuŋa Even kuŋa (koŋa); asi kuŋa ‘(little) girl’ Neg. koŋaxakkan ‘(little) child’ Orok. oŋɣai (oŋɣaika) ‘infant’ Nan. oŋaka ‘child; infant’ Jur. juwii ‘child’ Kor. ây nom Jap. o (no)ko; otoko (no) ko; dôji; (child) ko Ainu aiai ‘baby’; hekachi ‘boy’; po (poho); poshita ‘child’; sontak ‘little boy’; shion; teinep ‘very young child’ Esk. tanɣuraq Al. sugankadaq; hlak; lakaayax Girl OT girl: kız Ork. kız ET qız Koi. kas/kes Uig. kız ‘girl; daughter’ NUig. kiz ‘daughter; girl’ Kom. kız ‘virgin; daughter’ Chag. kız ‘unmarried daughter’ Khlj. qız ‘daughter; girl’ Kaz. kız ‘girl; maiden’ Osm. kız ‘girl’ Chuv. xér MMo. ökin

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Mo. bačaɣan; keüken (kegüken) ‘child; girl; maiden’; ökin ‘girl; daughter’ Khal. oxin; sevger; üren; xüüxen; basgan Mgr. fujün ‘girl’ Dag. uin ‘girl; daughter’; uiele ‘cousin’ Ord. oxin; (daughter, girl) küüxen Bur. üxin ‘girl; maiden’ Kalm. keüken ‘girl; child’; ökin ‘girl’ Ma. niyang ‘girl’; aša ‘elder brother’s wife’; asiha ‘young’; hûnčihin ‘relative of same clan’ Ev. hunât (sunät) ‘girl; daughter; sister’; hunâtkan; huŋa ‘child’; asâtkan ‘girl; daughter’ Even hunaj (onaj; hunat) ‘girl’; asi kuŋä; asačaka (asatkan) ‘girl; little girl’; kuŋa ‘child; infant’ Neg. xonat ‘girl; daughter’; koŋaxakkan ‘(little) child’; asatkan ‘daughter’ Or. xunaji ‘sister’; asama xite ‘daughter; girl’ Ud. xunaji ‘sister’ Orok. oŋɣai (oŋɣakai) ‘infant’; pundado ‘sister; female cousin’ Nan. oŋaka ‘child; infant’; pundajo (fundajo) ‘sister; (one’s own) female cousin’ Kor. ay nyen; (dial.) kalla Jap. onna; joshi; onnako; onago; musume Ainu matkachi; matne (female); opere ‘little girl’; oyashkep Esk. arnaraq; nevi’ar; (child) tanɣuraq Ancestor (male) OT aba; ečü Ork. apa; äčü ET âba; ata; baba MT avvalqılar ‘the ancients’ Koi. aba ‘father’ Uig. aba ‘father’ NUig. dada ‘granddad; old man’ Chag. ebe; aba ‘father; ancestor; uncle (father’s brother)’; abaka ‘daddy’ Anat. äčü ‘grandfather’ Kaz. argıata ‘great-grandfather; ancestor’; kariya ‘elder’ Osm. ata; dede; aba ‘father; ancestor’ MMo. uridu Mo. ebüge; eriged (ancestors) Khal. övög; (old people) xögščüül; deedes ‘ancestors’ Mgr. sdôgu ‘old man’; xûjin ‘old (person)’ Ord. öwögöt; (ancestors) ongot Kalm. köksid ‘elders’

Ma. amji ‘father’s elder brother’; ama ‘father’; amaka ‘father-in-(husband’s father)’; amxa (amɣa) ‘id.’; mafa ‘grandfather; old man; ancestor; forefather’ Ev. amtil ‘ancestors’ Even amtıl ‘elders’ Neg. amtil Or. amina; mapa (mapaca) ‘old man’ Ud. mafa ‘old man’ Ol. mapa ‘old man; husband’ Orok. mapa ‘id.’ Nan. amana; mafa (mapa) ‘grandfather; old man; ancestor; forefather’ Jur. tege mafa ‘ancestors’; amin ‘father’ Kor. chosang; harabôji ‘grandfather’ Jap. zokuchô Ainu ekashi ‘ancestors; grandfather’; shinrit ‘ancestors’; shutu Esk. civulirar ‘ancestors (male; female)’ Ancestor (female) OT aba ( grandmother) Uig. apa ‘ancestors’; aba; mama ‘grandmother’ NUig. mama ‘grandmother’ Chag. ebe ‘ancestors’; apa ‘elder sister’ Osm. kadın ata (ancestress); ebe ‘grandmother’; aba ‘elder sister; aunt’ MMo. emege Mo. emege Mgr. ninie ‘old woman’ Ma. eme ‘mother’; emeke ‘husband’s mother’ Ev. emugde ‘elk cow’ Kor. halmôn ‘grandmother’ Jap. o-basan (grandmother); joshi-sosen; sobo Ainu shutu; huchi ‘grandmother; old woman; female ancestor’ Grandfather OT aba; dede Ork. apaa ET baba (bawa); čong dada Koi. aga (aha) Uig. dada NUig. dada ‘granddad; old man’; bopbam ‘granddad; grandpap’ Kip. dede ‘paternal grandfather’ Khlj. bidik (büdük) baba; ta:ta Kaz. baba ‘grandfather’; uilken eke ‘id.’ Osm. büyük baba; dede Chuv. asatte

Gender Distinctions in Nouns and Pronouns

MMo. ebüge ‘husband’s father’; ebügen ‘grandfather’ Mo. abu; ebüge ‘grandfather’ Khal. övöö; övög etseg ‘grandfather’; buural aab; axas ‘elders’ Mgr. didie ‘grandfather; man’ Bur. xügšen ‘old man; old woman’ Kalm. âwa ‘father; papa’; öpkö ‘grandfather’; elntser ‘great-grandfather’ Ma. mafa ‘grandfather; ancestor; old man’; abka ‘heaven; emperor’ Ev. avaga ‘uncle; fellow’ (< Mo.) Even abaga (abaŋan) ‘grandfather’; aman; ete Or. mapa ‘old man’ Ud. abuɣa ‘father; dad’; mafa ‘old man’ Ol. mapa ‘old man; husband’ Orok. mapa Nan. mapa (mafa) ‘old man; husband’; apka ‘heaven; emperor’ (< Ma.) Jur. tege mafa ‘ancestors’ Kor. apai Jap. jii(ya); jijii; ôji Ainu ekashi ‘ancestors; grandfather’ Esk. ap(p)a; eltur Al. qitɣucungiq; latux; aliɣnax Grandmother OT aba; mama ET anekam Uig. mama NUig. mama; saka Oguz ebe ‘mother’ Uzb. mamma Khlj. bidik nänä ‘grandmother’ Kaz. eže; uilken šeše ‘grandmother’ Osm. ebe; meme; büyük anne; nine MMo. emege (emegen) ‘old woman; grandmother’ Mo. emege; emege eke ‘grandmother’ Khal. emee; emeg ex ‘grandmother’ Mgr. ninie ‘old woman’ Ord. eeji; emeg-exe ‘father’s mother’ Bur. emgen ‘grandmother; old woman’; naɣasa eži ‘mother’s mother’ Kalm. emegen eke ‘old woman’; emge ‘father’s mother’; naɣatsa eke ‘grandmother’ Ma. mama ‘mother; grandmother (father’s mother); old woman’; emeke ‘husband’s mother; mother-in-law’ Or. mamača(n) ‘old woman; wife’

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Ol. mama ‘grandmother; great-grandmother’; mamača(n) ‘old woman’ Orok. mama ‘old woman; grandmother; wife’ Nan. mama ‘old woman; wife; mother; aunt (on father’s side)’; mamaŋa ‘(old) woman’ Kor. halmôn ‘grandmother’ Jap. baba; o-bâsan; oba Ainu huchi; shut ‘grandmother; old woman’; pakko ‘old woman’ Esk. ana; ema Al. kukaq Father OT aba; ata; dede; atakı; (earlier) kaŋ Ork. ata; qa ŋ; (beloved) atač ET ata; dada (dede) ‘father’; äkä ‘father; parents’ Koi. ata/ada; aba; baba Yak. baba; ira Uig. ata; aka; dada ‘grandfather’ NUig. ata; aka; dada ‘father’; ögäi ata ‘stepfather’ MT ara ‘father’ Chag. ata ‘father’; äkä ‘father; parents’ Osm. ata; baba; jet Khlj. baba Kaz. ata; eke ‘father’; eke-šeše ‘parents’ Chuv. atte; (man’s) ašše MMo. ečige Mo. abu; ečige ‘father’ Khal. âb; etseg Mgr. âda; âwa ‘father’ Dag. ečihe ‘(other person’s) father’; ačaa ‘(my) father’ Ord. awää; (elderly) âwu Bur. aba ‘father’; esege; bâbai ‘daddy; papa’ Kalm. ečige ‘father’; âwa; bâwa ‘father; papa; uncle’; etsge ‘father; old man’ ôdži ‘papa’ Ma. ama; jeje Ev. ama (ame ~ ami; ama:ca:n) ‘father’ Even ama (aman) ‘father; grandfather’ Neg. amay ‘father’ Or. ama ‘father’; amaŋasa ‘deceased father’ Orok. ama ( ~ amma) ‘father; grandfather’ Nan. amxa ‘father-in-’ (husband’s father) Jur. amin ‘father’ Kor. appa; apem; api; epi; (hon.) apeci Jap. otôsan; chichi (-gimi); chichi oya; oyaji; o-jiisan (grandpa; old man) Ainu acha; achipo; amichi; ona (onaba); hambe; michi; iyapo (father) Esk. ata

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Al. adaq (ayax); adaada; adamax Mother OT aba; ög; oma; ana (anač) Ork. ög ‘mother; stepmother’ ET aylem; ana; anaka Koi. aba; ihe Yak. iya; id’a Uig. ög; ana; apa; ača; inä NUig. ana; apa; inä; moma Kom. ana MT ana ‘mother’ Chag. apa (elder sister) Oguz ebe Khlj. nänä ‘mother’ Kaz. ana ‘mother’; šeše ‘mother; ma’am’; šešey ‘mommy’ Osm. anne; ana Chuv. ama; anne MMo. eke ‘mother’ Mo. eke; eji mama Khal. ežiy; eez; ex Mgr. âma ‘mother’ Dag. ehe ‘(someone else’s) mother’; euee ‘(my) mother’ Ord. exe; memü (mama) Bur. ebı ; exe ‘mother’ Kalm. eke ‘woman; mother’; âka; iš ‘mother’; džêdži ‘mother; aunt’ Ma. aja; eme; eniye ‘mother’; emeke ‘mother-inlaw (husband’s mother)’ Ev. änä; änin Even eŋin Sol. eme ‘mother’; emige ‘wife’ Nan. eme ‘mother’; emxe ‘mother-in-law’ Jur. eniyen ‘mother’ Kor. an epei; emenin; emem; (my) kamo Jap. haha; okâ(san); hahago; hahaoya Ainu habo; unu; totto ‘mother’; tuye ‘one’s (own) mother’; eshikop ‘parents’ Esk. ana Al. anaq (anax); anaadax Brother OT karındaš; uya (blood brother); aba ‘elder brother/sister’; eci ‘elder brother’; father’s younger brother’ Ork. äči (elder); ini; yägün (younger) ET aka (äkä) ‘elder brother’; qarindaš; uka; Koi. aba

Uig. kardaš; aɣa ‘brother’; apa ‘ancestors’; eji (eci) ‘elder brother’; ini ‘younger brother’ NUig. aɣa; aɣainam ‘my brother’ MT qadaš Khak. uya ‘brother; kinsman’ Khwar. üya Kaz. aga ‘elder; elder brother’; aga-ini ‘brothers’; agalı-karındaš ‘siblings’ Chag. ebe ‘ancestors’ Kom. karındaš ‘brother’; aɣa ‘elder brother’; ananıŋ aɣası ‘mother’s brother; uncle’ Osm. (erkek) kardeš MMo. (elder) aqa; (younger) de’ü Mo. (elder) axa; (younger) degüü Khal. (elder) ax; (younger) düü; xüü düü Mgr. aɣa ‘elder brother’ Dag. ahe ‘elder brother’; deu ‘younger brother’; turesen ‘any sibling having the same father’ Ord. (elder) axa; (younger) odxon Bur. (elder) axa; (younger) düü Kalm. aqa ‘elder brother’; axa ‘elder brother; uncle’; dü; dütše ‘younger brother’ Ma. agu (aku) ‘elder brother; chap; old man; sir’; age; axun (aɣun) ‘elder brother’; axuŋɣa ‘elder son’ Ev. avus (abuhi) ‘elder brother’; aka (akai, agi) (< *akin) ‘elder brother’; uncle (father’s/mother’s younger brother); akin ‘elder brother; son of father’s/mother’s brother’; näkü ‘younger brother’ Even aqa (aka) ’(elder) brother; uncle; father’; aqın (akan) ‘elder brother’; cousin (son of) father’s/mother’ elder brother’; aknıl (pl. akan); bača ‘(elder) brother’ Neg. aga (axa) ‘elder brother; uncle (father’s/mother’s younger brother)’; axın (akın ‘elder brother; son of father’s/mother’s elder brother’ Or. aka (aki) ‘elder brother; uncle (father’s younger brother)’; akimuna ‘brothers (elder and younger)’ Ud. aga ‘elder brother; uncle (father’s younger brother)’ Ol. aga ‘elder brother; uncle (father’s younger brother)’; aqtunja ‘brothers (elder and younger)’ Orok. aɣa (aqa ~ aqqa) ‘elder brother’ Nan. aɣa ‘elder brother’; aŋna ‘brothers’ Jur. ahun ‘(elder) brother’

Gender Distinctions in Nouns and Pronouns

Kor. (younger) awu Jap. otôtogo; kakei; anigo; (younger) shôtei Ainu iritak; (elder) yupi; iriwak ‘siblings; brothers and sisters’ Esk. (elder) nuža Al. (man’s) agiitudax; ludax ‘man’s elder brother; woman’s elder sister (siblings of the same sex’; kingii ‘(his/her) younger brother; (his/her) younger sister’ Sister OT kız karındaš; (elder) aba; eke ‘father’s younger sister; one’s elder sister’ Ork. (elder) äkä; (younger) siŋil ET qız qarındaš; uka Koi. ad’a Uig. apa; eke ‘elder sister’ NUig. ereča ‘elder sister’; MT qarındaš; tiši qarındaš; qız qadaš; qız qarındaš Chag. äkäči ‘elder sister’ Khak. eke ‘elder sister’ Khlj. baji (bäji) ‘sister’ Kaz. apa/apai ‘elder sister’; ekpe (epke); tete ‘id.’; apalı-siŋlili ‘sisters’ Kom. egeči ‘father’s sister’ Osm. kız kardeš MMo. (elder) egeči; (younger) döyi Mo. (elder) egeči; (younger) (ökin) degüü Khal. (elder) egč; ögiy; (younger) düü; oxin düü Mgr. âdži (aji) ‘elder sister’ Dag. egeči ‘elder sister’ Ord. (elder) ɣaɣä Bur. (elder) abgai Kalm. ektši ‘elder sister’; okın (oken); dü ‘younger sister’ Ma. (elder) jiye; non ‘younger sister; younger female cousin’; nexu ‘maidservant; mother’; grandmother; old woman’ Ev. (elder) äkä; näkü (neku; nuko) ‘brother; chap; (little) sister; grandchild (grandson; granddaughter)’; nekun (nakun ~ nokun ~ nukun) ‘younger brother/sister; grandchild; child’ Even (elder) ñaña; (younger) nuŋil; nö (nu) ‘younger brother/sister; first male/female cousin’ Neg. nuxu (nexu) ‘younger brother/sister’; nexun (nekun ~ nokun) ‘younger brother, sister; first cousin (male/female)’

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Or. nokko (noko) ‘younger brother/sister; nephew’; neku ‘younger brother/sister’ Ud. neŋu ‘siblings (brothers and sisters)’ Ol. neku (neu) ‘younger brother/sister’ Orok. noko (nuku) ‘id.’ Nan. neku ‘younger brother/sister; child; infant’ Jur. eyun ‘(elder) sister’ Kor. (boy’s) nwul Jap. anegimi; (elder) ane; (your) imôtogo Ainu iritak; sapo; (elder) yupi Esk. (elder) nuža Al. angiq Son OT oɣul; uri: oɣlan ‘children’ Ork. oɣul ‘child; son’; oɣlan ‘sons’ ET oɣlan; oɣul Koi. (younger) ot’i Uig. urı ‘boy’; oɣal (oɣul; uɣal) ‘son’ NUig. oɣal (oɣul) ‘son; boy’ MT är oɣlan; oɣlan; oɣul; oɣulqına ‘little son; sonny’ Chag. oɣul Osm. oɣul Khlj. oɣul ‘son’; bala; kâl ‘child’ Kaz. zada ‘heir; son’; ül ‘son’ Chuv. ıvål MMo. no’un ‘boy’ Mo. niɣun ‘boy; son’; agi ‘(your) son’ Khal. bültüüš; nugan; xövgüün (xüvüün); xüü Mgr. k’uu ‘son’ Dag. keku ‘son; child’; kekure ‘sons; children’; nialeke ‘youngest child’; omele ‘grandson’ Ord. aga (< Ma.) Bur. xübüü ‘son’; baga xübüü; odxon xübüün ‘younger son’; odxon uri ‘first-born child’ Kalm. köwün ‘son; boy’; belkeneg (middle son); otxan (youngest son) Ma. jui ‘son’; ahungga ‘eldest son’; fursun (fusen) ‘offspring; brood (children)’ Ev. aka ‘son’; hute (huta) ‘child; infant (son; daughter)’; hutetken (utokon) ‘children’ Even aka (akaŋa) ‘son’; hussen (utken) ‘stepchild’; hut ‘child; infant (son; daughter)’; huteken ‘offspring’ Neg. xute ‘child; infant (son; daughter)’; asi xute ‘daughter’; neyavi xute ‘son’ Or. xii (< *huyil) ‘children’ Ud. site ‘child (son; daughter)’ Ol. pikte ‘id.’

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Or. pute ( ~ putta) ‘id.’ Nan. pikte (fute) ‘id’; asia pikte ‘daughter’; xuse pikte ‘son’; fiktere(n) ‘grandchild’ Kor. atul ‘son’; (my) katon; (your) yengsik Jap. musuko; otomusuko Ainu po; poho; pon-guru ‘child’; mitto; nitpo ‘grandchild’ Esk. irner Al. lag (ilaq); hlax; lakayax Daughter OT kız (girl) Ork. qız ‘girl; daughter’ ET qız ‘daughter’ Koi. kas/kes Uig. kız (kiz) NUig. kiz (kız) Kom. kız ‘virgin; daughter’ MT qız; yinckä qız ‘maiden’ Khlj. qız ‘daughter; girl’ Kaz. eyel bala ‘daughter’; kız ‘girl’ Osm. kız evlät; kerime Chuv. xìr MMo. oki(n) Mo. abaqai; bačaɣan; ökin Khal. oxin; (elder) egčmed Mgr. fujün ‘daughter’ Dag. uin ‘girl; daughter’ Ord. küüxen Bur. xüüxen ‘daughter’; odxon basagan ‘younger daughter’ Kalm. ökin (oken) ‘girl’ Ma. aša ‘elder brother’s wife’ Ev. asâtkan; asäkän ‘girl; daughter’ Even asačakâ (asatkân) ‘girl’ Neg. asatkän (xutev) ‘my daughter’ Or. asama xite ‘daughter; girl’ Kor. ttal; aka; (n)yea Jap. musume; oto musume; ehime; onnako Ainu matne-po; (elder) kiyanne-mat Esk. paniɣ (panik) Elder brother OT aba; eči Ork. äči ET aka (ake); äkä Koi. aha Uig. aka; alaka NUig. aka; molaka; alaka Chag. äkä ‘elder brother’

Kom. aɣa ‘(elder) brother’ Khak. eči Kaz. aga ‘elder brother’; aga-ini ‘brothers’ Osm. aɣa; eje Chuv. pičče MMo. axa (aha) Mo. aqa Khal. ax Mgr. aɣa ‘elder brother’ Dag. ahe ‘(soneone else’s) elder brother’; akâ ‘(my) elder brother’ Ord. agâ; axa; axalaɣči; axamat; awää Bur. axa Kalm. aqa (axa) Ma. ahûn (axun); agu (aku); ge (< Chin.); aji ‘eldest’; ajigan ‘child; little boy’ Ev. akâ ‘id.’; akin (pl. aknîl) ‘elder brother; father’s younger brother; son of father’s younger brother’ Even akan; aknıl; bača ‘elder brother’; âjin ‘firstborn; eldest’ Neg. axin (pl. axnîl) ‘elder brother; son of father’s elder brother; uncle’ Ol. ayil (ayinil) ‘elder brother; father’s younger brother’ Nan. aga ‘elder brother’; aji jule ‘from the same origin’ Jur. ahun ‘elder brother’ Kor. mat atul; olaypi; (boy’s) mat enni Jap. aniki; niisama Ainu yupo ‘elder brother’ Esk. nuža; (woman’s) aneñaq Al. (man’s) ludaq Younger brother OT ini Ork. ini; yägün ET ine (ini); uka Koi. tuŋma Uig. ini; urı NUig. uka (ufka); urı Kom. ini ‘grandson’ MT ini ‘younger brother’ Chag. ini Kaz. ini Osm. ini MMo. de’ü (< degü) Mo. degüü Khal. düü; odxan Mgr. diuu ‘younger brother’

Gender Distinctions in Nouns and Pronouns

Dag. deu Ord. düü; (youngest) odxon Bur. düü Kalm. dü; dütše Ma. deo (< Mo.) Ev. näkün (näkü); baja (< Mo.) ‘brother-in-law’; herge ‘younger’ Even nû; nûčen; (youngest)herge (cf. Ma. fere ‘bottom’) Sol. dou ( ~ duu) (< Mo.) ‘younger brother’ Nan. deu (< Ma. < Mo.) Jur. degun ‘younger brother’ Kor. uycey; (girl’s) olap Jap. ototo (oto); teimai Ainu iritak; iriwak ‘siblings’; aki ‘younger brother’; aakutari ‘your younger brother’ Esk. uyuraq; (woman’s) anqaluq Al. kingiq Elder sister OT aba; eče; eke Ork. äkä ET ayla; apa; bača ‘elder sister; aunt’ Koi. uba Yak. ubai; beda Uig. apa; ača; äilä; egeča ‘elder sister’ NUig. apa; ača; erečä; igičä Chag. apa ‘elder sister’; bača ‘elder sister; aunt’; eče ‘elderly woman’ Oguz ebe ‘mother’ Khak. eke ‘elder sister’ Khlj. baji (bäji) ‘sister’ Kaz. apa ‘elder sister’; ekpe ‘id.’; apatai ( ~ apeke) ’dear elder sister’ Osm. aba; eje Chuv. akka; appa MMo. egeči Mo. egeči Khal. ögiy; egč Mgr. âji ‘elder sister’ Dag. egeči ‘(someone else’s) elder sister’; ekee ‘(my) elder sister’ Ord. awuji; egeči; ɣaɣä Bur. egeše; abgai ‘elder sister; elder brother’s wife’ Kalm. ektši ‘elder sister’ Ma. eyun; gege; jiyei (< Chin.); keke ‘husband’s/wife’s elder sister’ Ev. äkä; ñaña (< Russ.) ‘elder sister’ Even ñaña

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Sol. jêjê (< Chin.) ‘elder sister’ Nan. keke ‘elder brother/sister’; kekeče ‘servant’ Neg. kexe ‘(female) servant’ Or. keke ‘id.’ Orok. kekke ‘(female) slave’ Jur. eyun ‘elder sister’ Kor. mat nwul; (boy’s) nwuna Jap. ane; anegimi; (your) imôtogo Ainu saha (saka); kakapo ‘elder sister’ Esk. alqaq ‘(man’s) elder sister’; nuža ‘elder sibling’ Al. (woman’s) ludax Younger sister OT siŋil Ork. siŋil ET siŋil; uka Koi. tuŋma Uig. siŋil NUig. siŋil Chag. siŋil Khak, siŋil ‘(man’s) younger sister’ Kaz. karındaš ‘(man’s) younger sister’; agalıkarındaš ‘siblings’ Osm. siŋil ‘younger sister’ MMo. döyi Mo. degüü; keüken Khal. düü Ord. odxon ‘youngest sister’ Bur. odxon ‘youngest sister’ Kalm. oken dü ‘younger sister’; keüken ‘girl; child’ Ma. non ‘younger sister’ Ev. nekun (nokun) Even nö; (pl. nûŋîl; nöŋil; nönul) Or. nokko (noko) Ol. neku Orok. noko ( ~ nuku) Nan, neku Jur. niyohun ‘younger sister’ Kor. yôja hyongje ‘sister’ Jap. imoto; teimai Ainu iritak; sapo ‘sister’; kumadaki; machiribe; mataki; turesh ‘younger sister’ Esk. uyuraq ‘younger sibling’ Al. kingii Father’s brother OT aba; (younger) eči; ačkı Ork. äči Koi. ad’a

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Yak. abaɣa; d’ad’a Uig. taɣa; ata (uncle) NUig. taɣa MT ’am (< Ar.) ‘paternal uncle’ Chag. abaka ‘uncle (father’s brother)’ Kip. ačkı ‘paternal uncle’ Khlj. amu ‘uncle (on the father’s side)’ Kaz. agai ‘uncle’; nemere ata/aga ‘father’s elder/ younger brother’ uilken ata ‘father’s elder brother’ Kom. abaɣa ‘uncle’ Osm. amja Chuv. pičče MMo. abaɣa Mo. abaɣa Khal. avga; (elder) ix; (younger) baga avga Dag. ešikee ‘uncle; father’s brother’; šušuu (< Chin.) ‘uncle’ Bur. abga ‘father’s brother; uncle’ Kalm. abaɣa; axa; awɣa (a:ɣa); bâdži (elder); bääwa Ma. (elder) amji; (younger) ečike; eshen; agu (aku) ‘elder brother’; abqa (*abuga), abka ‘sky; heaven’ deity; god’ Ev. avaga (avagai) (< Mo.) ‘father’s brother’; aka (aki; agi) ‘uncle’; gušin ‘uncle (father’s brother)’ Even abaga (abaŋan) ‘grandfather; uncle (father’s/mother’s elder brother)’; aka (aga) ‘uncle’; goser (geser) ‘cousin’ Neg. aga (aka) ‘elder brother; father’s/mother’s younger brother’ Or. aka (aki) ‘elder brother; father’s younger brother’ Ma. agu ‘sir’; ahûn ‘elder brother’ Ud. aga ‘elder brother’; abuɣa ‘father; papa’ Ol. aga Orok. gušiŋ ‘uncle’ Kor. acwupi; cakun apeci Jap. (younger) oto-oji; chikyôdai Ainu ( uncle): acha; ahapo; achipo Esk. akkak Al. latuɣiq; adaŋ agalica; adaqanax Father’s sister OT aba; (younger) eke Koi. ad’a; uba; d’ad’a Uig. äilä ‘aunt’ NUig. äilä MT ata qız qarındaš ‘father’s sister’

Chag. eke ‘father’s elder sister’ Khlj. ämmä ‘aunt (on the father’s side)’ Osm. hala; yenge MMo. aɣai egeči Mo. ɣaɣai egeči Khal. (elder) abga (avga) Bur. abga eži ‘aunt; father’s sister’ Kalm. âka; âwä; gaɣä (< gagai) Ma. gu (< Chin.) ‘father’s sister’ Ev. äkä; ati (ata) ‘old woman; wife’ Even ata ‘aunt (father’s elder sister); grandmother’; atikan ‘old woman’ Neg. atki ‘mother-in-law (mother of husband or wife)’ Or. ataŋa ‘father’s or mother’s elder sister’ Orok. âti ‘wife’s elder sister’ Kor. (aunt) paykmo; acaymi; acwumi Jap. (aunt) obasan Ainu (aunt) unarabe Esk. accaɣ Al. chutkax; nix Mother’s brother OT ata; kaŋ ‘father’ Koi. taye ‘mother’s brother’ Uig. ata ‘uncle’ NUig. ata MT taɣay ‘maternal uncle (mother’s brother)’ Chag. taɣai ‘uncle; mother’s brother’ Khlj. dayı (< Pers.) ‘uncle (on the mother’s side)’ Kaz. naɣası ‘relative on mother’s side’; naɣası ata ‘mother’s father/elder brother’ Kom. abaɣa ‘uncle’; taɣai ‘mother’s brother’ Osm. dayı ‘uncle; mother’s brother; middle-aged man’ Chuv. pičče MMo. naɣaču (naxač) ‘mother’s brother’ Mo. n𝛼 ɣaču Khal. âžiy; övgöödei; nagts ax ‘uncle’ Dag. nauči ‘mother’s younger brother/sister; uncle/aunt’; naučoo ‘(my) uncle’ Bur. nagasa axai ‘mother’s brother’ Kalm. naɣatšaɣa (naktšaɣa) Ma. guču ‘friend’; gucixi ‘female friend’; agu ‘sir; master’; ahûn ‘elder brother’ Ev. gušin (gugin) ‘uncle (father’s/mother’s brother); grandfather (mother’s father)’ Sol. gusu (*guču) ‘friend’ Even akan; (younger) daŋta; (elder) ete; göser (geser) ‘cousin’

Gender Distinctions in Nouns and Pronouns

Or. guši(n); gočo ‘uncle (mother’s younger brother); aunt (mother’s younger sister)’ Orok. gusi(n) ‘uncle’ Nan. gušıñ ‘uncle (mother’s younger brother)’; gučeke (guške) ‘uncle (mother’s younger brother)’; gučekene ‘uncle’ Jur. kučuh ‘bodyguard’ Kor. acwupi; oysuk Jap. ( uncle) oji Ainu ( uncle) acha; ahapo; achipo; keushut Esk. añaɣ Al. ammiq (ami) Mother’s sister (younger) OT eče; küküy Uig. äilä ‘aunt’ NUig. äilä MT ana tiši qarındaš ‘maternal aunt’ Khak. eče ‘elder sister’ Chag. eče ‘elderly woman’ Khlj. xala ‘aunt (on the mother’s side)’ Osm. teyze ‘mother’s sister’ MMo. nagaču (naɣaču) egeči ‘mother’s sister’ Mo. naɣaču egeči ‘id.’ Khal. âžiy ‘auntie’; nagats egč; âku ‘aunt’ Dag. nauči ‘mother’s younger sister; aunt’; naučô ‘(my) aunt’ Ord. öxii ‘aunt’ Bur. nagasa abgai; begin ‘mother’s sister’ Kalm. âka; âwä; džêdži ‘aunt’ Ma. deheme; ambu ‘mother’s elder sister’; amu ‘aunt; elder brother’s wife’; ambuma ‘husband of mother’s elder sister’ Ev. äkä Even ogi Nan. dexeme (< Ma.) ‘aunt (mother’s younger sister)’ Kor. (aunt) paykmo; acaymi Jap. (aunt) obasan Ainu (aunt) unarabe Esk. ayak Al. anax Husband OT er ‘man; male’ ET er (ey) ‘husband’ Koi. algan Uig. er (är, ir) ‘man; fighting man; husband’; är kiše ‘husband’

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NUig. ä (ir); äkäk ( ~ erkek) ‘husband’; erim ‘my husband’ är kiše ‘husband; man’ Kom. er ‘man; male; husband’ Khlj. här ‘husband’ Kaz. er ‘husband’; kožayın ‘master; husband’; küyeu ‘husband; sister’s husband’ Osm. koja; zevč ‘husband’ MMo. ere ‘husband’; ere gü’ün ‘man’; nokor ‘friend’ Mo. ere; nökür; (first) abaɣai; qani ‘friend; companion; partner; husband’ Khal. er; er nöxöi ‘husband’; baz ‘husbands of sisters’ Dag. ere ‘man; husband’; noin ‘husband’ Ord. ere; baja ‘husbands of sisters’; nöxör ‘spouse’; öwögön ‘elderly husband’ Bur. ere ‘husband’ Kalm. ere ‘man’; qani ‘friend’ Ma. eigen ‘husband’; kani ‘related; of the same kind’; eru ‘brave’ Ev. kani (< Mo.) ‘friend; companion; follower’ Even kâñi ‘twins’ Jur. eige ‘husband’ Kor. payphi; ai apeci; cwin Jap. otto ( ~ tsuma); sei (-no) kimi; se Ainu aekotoguru; ainu; hoku ‘husband’; umurek ‘husband and wife’ Esk. uɣi Al. ugi (ugix) Wife OT kiši; yutuz; evči Ork. yotuz ‘wife; woman’ ET aɣačae; xatun (xotun) Koi. algan; eiš; inei; kat; tize Uig. kiši; yutuz; aɣača; xatun (xotun); evči ‘wife’ NUig. köč ‘wife; woman’; xatun ‘id.’ O.Kir. yutuz Khak. kiš ( ~ kiši) ‘wife’; kišiyäk ‘little woman; wife’ Khlj. kišši Kaz. zayıp ‘wife’; katın ‘wife; married woman’ Kom. qatun (xatun); epči ‘wife’ Osm. karı ; zevje ; eš Chuv. ama; aråm MMo. gergei; (pl.) qatud Mo. eme; gergen; qatun; abaɣali Khal. abgai; samgan; xöšin; gergiy; exner ‘wife’ Mgr. bieri ‘wife’

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Dag. eme ‘woman; wife’; emegen (emehe) ‘wife’; emegen huu ‘woman’ Ord. eme; gergi; gertexen; nöxör (spouse); awisun (wives of same man) Bur. eme ‘married woman’; gergen ‘wife’; odxon xatan ‘younger wife’ Kalm. eme; qatun ‘woman’; auɣä (< abaɣai); bawɣaa; eme; näädžiner ‘wife’ Ma. sargan ‘woman’; urun ‘wife; son’s wife’; naina ‘housewife’; aša ‘elder brother’s wife; sister-in-law’ Ev. asi (ahi; aši) ‘woman; wife’; asakan (asatkan; ahakan) ‘girl; daughter’; asâdi (ašadi) ‘female’; asakan ‘girl; unmarried woman’ Even ası (aši) ‘woman; wife’; asatgan (asatkan) ‘girl’ Neg. asi ‘woman; wife’; asixan (asikan); asatkan ‘girl’ Or. asa ‘woman; wife’; asiŋɣatu ‘fiancée’; ačka ‘little girl’; asama xite ‘daughter; girl’ Ud. ajiga ‘(little) girl’ Ol. asi ‘woman; wife’; asčaga(n) ‘(little) girl’ Orok. asi ‘woman; wife’; asi ŋıatu ‘fiancée’ Nan. asi ‘id.’; asifuta ‘daughter; little girl’; oroñ; oro(n) ‘son’s wife’ Jur. sarigan ‘wife’; salian (sarian) ‘woman’ Kor. manwula; payphil; saytayk; anay; colche Jap. tsuma; kaka; kanai; (my) keisai Ainu machi; mat; (chief) somat; sokaramat; utomnukara ‘husband and wife’ Esk. nulir (ar) Al. ayagax; (main)ayaga-agamax Husband’s father OT kadın; kayın ata ET qaynı ata Koi. kaste; kazın ‘husband’s/wife’s relatives’; kazın aba ‘father-in-’ Uig. kadın; kayin ata ‘father-in-’ NUig. kain ata Khak. kadın ( ~ kayın) Khlj. gâdun baba (gayın-baba) ‘father-in-’ Kom. kayın ‘father-in-’ Osm. kayınpeder ‘husband’s father’ Chuv. xun MMo. ebüge ‘old man; husband’s father’ Mo. ebüge (ečige) ‘grandfather; old man’ Khal. xadam etseg ‘father-in-’ Dag. ečihe ‘other person’s father’ Ord. xadım ecige

Bur. xadam ‘relative by marriage’; xadam baabai ‘husband’s father’ Kalm. etsege ‘father; old man’; xadem etsege ‘father-in-’ Ma. ama ‘father’; amaka ‘husband’s father’; daa ‘father of bridegroom’ Ev. ama ‘father’; amâka ‘grandfather; father’s elder brother’; kadum ‘husband, father’; amiran ‘father-In law; stepfather’ Even amrâni; amiŋa (amaŋa) ‘father; grandfather’; amrani (amdani) ‘stepfather’ Neg. amiyan ‘stepfather’ Orok. amaqa ‘grandfather’; amiraŋ ‘stepfather’ Nan. amxa (amaxa) ‘husband’s father; husband’s elder brother’ Kor. shiabôji ‘father-in-’ Jap. ojiisan; sofu (< Chin.) Ainu shiuto-michi Esk. caki Al. saatimgix Husband’s mother OT ana ET qın ana; qaynı ana Koi. kadihe; kazın ana ‘mother-in-law’ Uig. ana ‘mother’; kayin ana ‘mother-in-law’ NUig. kain ana Kom. ana Khlj. gâdın aba (gayın-nänä) ‘mother-in-law’ Kaz. eneke ‘mother-in-law’; küdegi Osm. kaynana ‘husband’s mother’ MMo. emege ‘old woman; wife’ Mo. emege ‘grandmother’ Khal. xadam ex ‘mother-in-law’ Dag. ehe ‘other person’s mother’ Ord. xadam eke (husband’s mother) Bur. kadem eke (xadam eke) xadam eži; kazine Kalm. emegen eke ‘old woman’; xadem eke ‘mother-in-law’ Ma. emeke Ev. kadum äkä; atki ‘husband’s mother’; ati (ata); atikan ‘old woman’ Even ata; atkı ‘husband’s mother’; atikan ‘old woman, wife; grandmother’ Neg. atki ‘husband’s mother’ Or. ataŋa Orok. ati Kor. shiomoni ‘mother-in-law’ Jap. shûto Ainu koshmat-habo; iyephabo

Gender Distinctions in Nouns and Pronouns

Esk. caki Al. chikiidax Wife’s father OT kadın ET qaynı ata Koi. kaste Uig. kadın; kain ata ‘father-in-’ Khak. kadın ( ~ kayın) Khlj. gâdun baba Kaz. kayın ‘wife’s relatives’ Kom. kayın ‘father-in-’ Osm. kayınpeder ‘wife’s father’ Chuv. xun MMo. qadun ečige ‘wife’s father’ Mo. qadum ečige ‘father-in-’ Khal. törxöm ‘wife’s family’ Ord. xadam ‘id.’; xadam ečige ‘wife’s father’ Bur. xadam baabai ‘father-in-’ Kalm. xadem etsege ‘father-in-’ Ma. amba; dančan ‘wife’s family’ Ev. kadum; amâka ‘grandfather; mother’s elder brother’; daa (dân) ‘wife’s father/elder brother’ Even amrâni; daa ‘wife’s father’ Ol. amxa ‘father-in- (wife’s father)’ Nan. amxa (amaxa) ‘wife’s father/elder brother’; daŋta ‘relatives by marriage’ Kor. cangin Jap. shûto Ainu iyepe-michi; shiuto-michi Esk. cakiq ‘father-in-’ Al. saatimgix ‘wife’s father; father-in-law’ Wife’s mother OT ana ET qaynı ana; qın ana Koi. kadihe; kazine Uig. ana ‘mother’; kain ana ‘mother-in-law’ NUig. ana Kom. ana ‘mother’ Khlj. gadın aba ‘mother-in-law’ Kaz. eneke; küdegi ‘mother-in-law’; kayın ana ‘stepmother’ Osm. kaynana ‘wife’s mother’ Chuv. xunem MMo. qadum eke ‘mother-in-law’ Mo. qadum eke ‘mother-in-law’ Ord. xadam eke ‘id.’ Bur. xadam eke; xadam eži

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Kalm. xadem eke ‘mother-in-law’ Ma. emhe Ev. atki ‘mother-in-law’; kadum äkä ‘brother’s wife; wife’s mother’; daa ‘wife’s mother’ Even atkı; daa ‘wife’s mother’ Kor. oyko; cangmo Jap. obâsan; sobo (< Chin.) Ainu iyepe-habo; iyepe-mamamichi Esk. cakiq ‘mother-in-law’ Al. satimgiq; saatikaayax ‘wife’s mother’ Husband’s sister OT siŋil ET bača ‘elder sister; aunt’ Uig. yenge ‘elder brother’s wife’; siŋil ‘younger sister’ NUig. siŋil ‘younger sister’ Chag. bačaelder sister; aunt’ Khlj. balduz ‘sister-in-law’; gâdın kiši ‘id.’ Kaz. bike ‘husband’s sister’ Osm. görümje; yenge; elti MMo. egeči ‘elder sister’; qadum ‘relative of wife’ Mo. qadum egeči ‘(elder) sister-in-law’ Khal. xadam egč ‘spouse’s elder sister’; xür oxin düü ‘spouse’s younger sister’ Dag. beregen ‘sister-in-law’ Ord. xadam egeči ‘husband’s elder sister’ Bur. xadam egeše Ma. asha ‘elder brother’s wife’ Ev. atki ‘mother-in-law (husband’s/wife’s mother)’; ati ‘old woman’ Even atki (aski) ‘mother-in-law; husband’s/wife’s elder sister’; bene ‘husband’s younger sister’; ata ‘grandmother; aunt’ Neg. atki (atti) ‘husband’s/wife’s mother’; atixan (atuxan) ‘old woman; wife’ Or. ataŋa ‘mother-in-law; sister-in-law (wife’s elder sister); aunt; grandmother’ Ud. atiɣa ‘woman; wife’ Orok. ataqa ‘grandmother’; ati ‘husband’s/wife’s mother; wife’s elder sister’ Kor. shinui ‘husband’s sister’ Jap. giri-no-shimai (< Chin.); (elder) giri-no-ane; (younger) giri-no imoto Ainu (sister-in-law) shiuto-sapo (elder); shiutomachiribe (younger) Esk. cakirar Al. asanaqax Husband’s brother

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OT kadın ‘relatives by marriage; in-laws’ Uig. kadın ‘father-in-’ Khlj. gâdın (gâdun) ‘brother-in-law’ Kaz. baža; kayın ini ‘husband’s younger brother’ Kom. qayın ‘father-in-’ Osm. enište; bajanak ‘brother-in-law (husbands of two sisters)’ MMo. aqa ‘brother-in-law’; qadum ‘relative of wife’ Mo. qadum aqa ‘(elder) brother-in-law’ Khal. xürgen ax ‘spouse’s elder brother’; xürgen düü ‘spouse’s younger brother’ Dag. baji ‘brother-in-law’ Ord. xadam axa ‘husband’s (elder) brother’ Bur. xadam axa Kalm. baža ‘brother-in-law’ Ma. (elder) ge (< Chin.); (younger) eše ‘husband’s younger brother’; keli ‘men who have married sisters; brothers-in-law’; uhen (ebekeuxen) ‘younger brother’s wife’; oke ‘wife of father’s younger brother’ Ev. kadum eke; baža; kuradu ‘brother-in-law’; kadum aka ‘husband’s elder brother’ Even bener ‘husband’s younger brother/sister’ Kor, (elder) acwupenni Jap. giri-no-kyodai; gikyôdai (< Chin.) Esk. cakirar Wife’s sister (younger) OT baldız Uig. kayin egeča ‘wife’s elder sister’; kayin siŋil ‘wife’s younger sister’ NUig. kain egeča; kain siŋel Khak. baldız ‘wife’s younger sister’ Khlj. gâdın kiši ‘sister-in-law’ Kaz. töpkin ‘wife’s relative’; baldız ‘sister-in-law (wife’s sister)’ Osm. yenge; baldız ‘sister-in-law (wife’s sister)’; görümje; elti ‘sister-in-law’ Mo. qadum egeči ‘(elder) sister-in-law’ Khal. xadam egč (elder); xür oxin düü (younger) Dag. beregen ‘sister-in-law’ Ord. xadam egeči ‘wife’s elder sister’ Bur. xadam egeše; berigen Kalm. balder ‘sister-in-law (wife’s sister)’ Ma. dexeme ‘aunt; mother’s younger sister’; dexema ‘husband of mother’s younger sister’ Ev. atki ‘wife’s mother’; bener (bene) ‘wife’s younger sister’

Even atki (aski) ‘mother-in-law; wife’s elder sister’; bener ‘wife’s younger sister’ Orok. ati ‘wife’s elder sister’ Neg. bene ‘wife’s younger sister’ Nan. dexeme (< Ma.) ‘aunt; mother’s younger sister’ Kor. ch’oje Jap. imoshûtome Ainu (sister-in-law): shiuto-sapo (elder); shiutomachiribe (younger) Jap. giri-no-shimai (< Chin.); (elder) giri-no-ane; (younger) giri-no imoto Ainu (sister-in-law) shiuto-sapo (elder); shiutomachiribe (younger) Esk. cakirar Al. asanaqax Wife’s brother (younger) OT yurč Ork. yurč ET yurču Tel. yurču ‘wife’s siblings (brothers/sisters)’ Uig. kayin aɣa ‘wife’s elder brother’; kayin ini ‘wife’s younger brother’ NUig. kain aɣa; kain ini Khak. yurč ‘wife’s brother’ Khlj. hämpâča; gâdın (gâdun) ‘brother-in-law’ Kaz. baža ‘brother-in-law’ Kir. baža ‘brother-in-law (wife’s brother)’ Kom. aɣa ‘elder brother’ Osm. enište; bajanak ‘wife’s brother’ MMo. de’ü ‘younger brother’ Mo. kürgen aqa (elder); küri degüü (younger) Khal. törxöm; xürgen ax (elder); xürgen düü (younger) Dag. baji ‘brother-in-law’ Ord. xadam axa ‘wife’s elder brother’ Bur. xadam axa Kalm. kür dü ‘wife’s brother’ Ma. (elder) efu; naca; naya ‘wife’s younger brother; husband of wife’s younger sister’; dančan ‘wife’s family’ Ev. kadum aka ‘wife’s elder brother’; kuradu ‘sonin-law; wife’s brother’; bener ‘wife’s brother/ younger sister’ Even (elder) daa; bener ‘wife’s younger brother/sister’ Neg. bene ‘wife’s younger brother/sister’ Or. bene ‘id.’; ‘husband of wife’s younger sister’

Gender Distinctions in Nouns and Pronouns

Ol. beneli ‘wife’s younger brother’ (cf. Kor. myenıri) Kor. myenıri Jap. gikyôdai (< Chin.) Ainu koko Al. asanaqax; naɣux; chikiidax Daughter’s husband OT küdegü ET küy oɣol; kiaw (oɣul) Koi. küzö/küdö Uig. küdegü ‘son-in-law’ Kom. küyegü Khak. küdegü/küzegü Khlj. kidäy ‘fiancé; bridegroom’ Kaz. küda ‘son-in-law’ Osm. damat ‘daughter’s husband’ Chuv. kerü MMo güregen Mo. kürgen Khal. xürgen ‘son-in-law’ Dag. huregen ‘son-in-law (daughter’s husband)’ Kalm. kürgen Ma. xojigon (xojixon; hojihon) ‘sister’s husband’ Ev. küräkän (kureken; kurigen) (< Mo.) ‘son-inlaw; brother-in-law ( younger sister’s husband’; kute ‘younger sister’s husband’; kuda (< Mo.) ‘father of son-in-law/ daughter-in-law’ Neg. xodovu (xodoɣu) ‘son-in-law; younger sister’s husband’ Or. xoduu ‘id.’ Ol. xodu ‘id.’ Sol. xurexe (xurexeñ) ‘son-in-law; brother-in-law’ Jur. hodiyo ‘son-in-law’ Kor. sawi Jap. josei; muko; muko-yôshi Ainu koko (kokou) Esk. neŋauɣ Al. naɣuq; ningauk Son’s wife OT kelin Ork. kälin ‘daughter-in-law’ Uig. kelin ‘bride’ Khak. kelin ‘daughter-in-law’ Khlj. kälin ‘bride’ Kaz. küda ‘daughter-in-law’; küdaša ‘kinswoman of groom or bride’ Kom. kelin ‘bride’ Osm. gelin ‘son’s wife’

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Chuv. kin MMo. beri Mo. beri ‘son’s wife; daughter-in-law’ Khal. bergen ‘elder son’s wife’; ber ‘daughter-inlaw’ Mgr. bieri ‘wife’ Dag. beri ‘bride; man’s daughter-in-law’ Ord. bere Kalm. bere ‘daughter-in-law (son’s wife)’ Ma. urun Ev. kukin (kuke) ‘son’s wife; younger brother’s wife’ Sol. xuxi ‘daughter-in-law’ Even kökin (köken) ‘son’s wife; younger brother’s wife’ Neg. kuxin (kukin) ‘id.’ Kor. myenuli; aka; sayak; capu Jap. yome; mama-musume Ainu koshimat (koshmat) Esk. ukurar Al. asanaqax Elder brother’s wife OT yenge Altai yäŋä (yeŋe) ‘elder brother’s wife; father’s brother’s wife; aunt’ Tel. yäŋä ‘elder brother’s wife; aunt’ Koi. yegä/yegädä ‘elder brother’s wife’ Uig. yeŋge NUig. yänä Chag. yenge (yäŋgä) Khak. yenge Khlj. balduz ‘sister-in-law’ Kaz. žeŋge ‘elder brother’s wife’; žesir ‘id.’ Osm. yenge MMo. bergen Mo. bergen Khal. abisan; bergen (elder brother’s wife) Ord. bergen Bur. abgai ‘elder brother’s wife’; berigen Kalm. bergen; awsen (äwsen) ‘sister-in-law (husband’s brother’s wife)’ Ma. berxu (< Mo.) ‘younger brother’s wife; husband’s younger sister; (term of address)’ ‘wife to her husband’s younger sister; elder sister to younger brother’s wife’; oke ‘wife of father’s younger brother’ Ev. ügi; bärigän (berigei) (< Mo.) ’brother’s wife’; ebeke ‘grandmother’; aunt (mother’s father’s elder sister); mother-in-law’

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Even uji Neg. evexe ‘wife’s mother’ Or. euke ‘elder brother’s wife’ Ol. evke (euke) ‘elder brother’s wife; aunt’ Orok. eve(n) ‘elder brother’s wife’ Nan. euke ‘elder brother’s wife; aunt’ Kor. olkhey Jap. (elder) aniyome; (younger) otoyome Ainu shiuto-sapo Esk. aɣi; ukurar Al. asanaqax Younger brother’s wife OT kelin ET kälin Koi. kelen Uig. kelin ‘daughter-in-law; younger brother’s wife’; yenge ‘elder brother’s wife’ Chag. kälin Kom. kelin ‘bride’ Khak. kelin ‘id.’ Khlj. kälin ‘id.’ Kom. kelin ‘younger brother’s wife’ Osm. yenge ‘younger brother’s wife’ MMo. ači (hači) ‘grandson’ Mo. abisun; ajin ‘younger brother’s wife’ Khal. ažin; ber (düü ber) ‘younger brother’s wife’ Kalm. awsen (äwsen) ‘sister-in-law’ Ma. uhen ‘younger brother’s wife’; uxume ‘aunt (wife of father’s younger brother’; sister-in-law ( younger brother’s wife)’ Ev. kukin (kuke) ‘younger brother’s wife’ Even kökin (köken) Neg. kuxin (kukin) Kor. olkhey Jap. otoyome Ainu shiuto-machiribe Esk. aɣi; ukurar Elder sister’s husband OT yezne Uig. yäsnä ‘elder sister’s husband’ Koi. t’urt’u/türsü Chag. yezne ‘sister’s/daughter’s husband’ Khak. yezne ‘elder sister’s husband’ Kaz. baža ‘brother-in-law’; žezde ‘elder sister’s husband’ Kom. yezne (yizne) ‘brother-in-law’ Osm. enište; bajanak ‘husbands of two sister’ MMo. bajahusbands of two sisters’

Mo. baja ‘husbands of sisters’; kürgen ‘daughter’s/sister’s husband’ Khal. xürgen ax (xür ax) ‘elder sister’s husband’ Ord. baja ‘sister’s husband’ Kalm. kür ‘brother-in law (sister’s husband)’; kürgen ‘son-in-law’ Ev. avus (abuhi) ‘elder sister’s husband; brotherin-law’; kadum aka ‘husband’s/wife’s elder brother’;kadum eke ‘brother’s wife; wife’s/husband’s mother’ Even âwas (âvus ~ avsa) ‘brother-in-law (elder sister’s husband); uncle; mother’s younger sister’s husband’ Neg. avus ‘brother-in-law (elder sister’s husband); uncle’ Or. ausi ‘elder sister’s husband; wife’s younger brother’ Ol. avsi (ausi) ‘brother-in-law’ Nan. aosi ‘id.’ Kor. maehyong ‘man’s elder sister’s husband’; hyongbu ‘woman’s elder sister’s husband’; acessi; acey; cahyeng Jap. kojûto Esk. aɣi; neŋauɣ Al. naɣuq; ningauk; ayagadax Younger sister’s husband OT Kaz. baža ‘brother-in-law’ Osm. enište ‘younger sister’s husband’ MMo. baja ‘husbands of two sisters’; güregen ‘son-in-law’ Mo. baja; kürgen ‘younger sister’s husband’ Khal. xürgen düü (xür düü) ‘younger sister’s husband’ Ord. baja ‘sister’s husband’ Kalm. kür ‘sister’s husband’ Ma. dančan ‘father of son-in-law/daughter-inlaw’ Ev. dâ (dâl; dân) ‘father/mother of son-in-law; brother-in-law’ Even dâ ‘wife’s elder brother; elder sister’s husband; father of son-in-law/daughter-in-law’ Neg. daŋta ‘children of mother’s brother; male relatives on mother’s side’ Kor. acessi; acey Jap. imôto muko Esk. aɣi; neŋauɣ

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Bibliography Alkim, U. BahadIr (editor-in-chief). New Redhouse Turkish-English Dictionary. Istanbul: Redhouse Press (1968). Batchelor, John. An Ainu-English Dictionary. Tokyo: Methodist Publishing House (1905). Bang, Willy. Uralaltaische Forschungen. Leipzig: Verlag von Wilhelm Friedrich (1890). Bawden, Charles. Mongolian-English Dictionary. London and New York: Kegan Paul International (1994). Benzing, Johannes. Lamutische Grammatik. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag (1955). Bergsland, Knut. Aleut Dictionary. Fairbanks: Alaska Native Language Center, University of Alaska Fairbanks (1994). Böhtlingk, Otto. Über die Sprache der Jakuten. The Hague: Indiana University Publications, Mouton & Co. (1964). Brockelmann, C. Mitteltürkischer Wortschatz nach Mahmud Al-Kâšɣarîs Dîvân Luɣât at-Turk. Budapest: Körösi-Csoma Gesellschaft (1928). Castrén, Alexander. Grundzüge einer Tungusischen Sprachlehre nebst kurzem Wörterverzeichniss. St. Petersburg: Buchdruckerei der Kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaft (1856). Cheremisov, K. M. Buryatsko-Russkiy Slovar’. Moskva: Sovetskaya Entsiklopediya (1973). Clauson, Gerard. An Etymological Dictionary of Pre-Thirteenth-Century Turkish. Oxford: Clarendon Press (1972). Doerfer, Gerhard and Semih Tezcan. Wörterbuch des Chaladsch. Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó (1980). Eckman, Janós. Middle Turkic Glosses of the Rylands Interlinear Koran Translation. Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó (1976). Fortescue, Michael; Steven Jacobson, and Lawrence Kaplan. Comparative Eskimo Dictionary (with Aleut Cognates). Fairbanks: Alaska Native Language Center, University of Alaska Fairbanks (1994). Fortescue, Michael. Language Relationships Across Bering Strait: Reappraising the Archaeological and Linguistic Evidence. London and New York: Cassell (1998). Grønbech, K. Komanisches Wörterbuch (Türkischer Wortindex zu Codex Cumanicus). København: Einar Munksgaard (1942). Hahn, Reinhard F. Spoken Uyghur. Seattle and London: University of Washington Press (1991). Hangin, John G. A Concise English-Mongolian Dictionary. Bloomington: Research Institute for Inner Asian Studies, Indiana University (1992). Imexenov, M. N. Buryat-Mongol Xelenei Grammatika. Ulan-Ude: Buryat-Mongoloi Nomoi Xeblel (1954).

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Jarring, Gunnar. An Eastern Turki-English Dialect Dictionary. Lund: Hakan Ohlssons Boktryckeri (1964). Kiyose Gisaburo N. A Study of the Jurchen Language and Script. Kyoto: Hôritsubunkasha (1977). Kowalewski, J. E. Dictionnaire Mongol-Russe-Français. Kazan: Imprimérie de l’Université (1849). Krippes, Karl A. Kazakh (Qazaq)-English Dictionary. Kensington, MD: Dunwoody Press (1994). Lessing, Ferdinand. Mongolian-English Dictionary. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press (1960). Lewin, Bruno. Abriss der Japanischen Grammatik. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz (1975). Martin, Samuel E. Dagur Mongolian Grammar, Texts and Lexicon. Bloomington: Indiana University, Mouton & Co., The Hague, The Netherlands (1961). Martin, Samuel E., Yang Ha Lee, and Sung-Un Chang. A Korean-English Dictionary. New Haven and London: Yale University Press (1964). Masuda Koh (editor). Kenkyusha’s New Japanese-English Dictionary (Fourth Edition). Tokyo: Kenkyusha (1974). Miller, Roy Andrew. Japanese and the Other Altaic Languages. Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press (1971). Mostaert, Antoine. Le Matériel Mongol du Houa I I Iu de Houng-Ou (1389). Bruxelles: Institut Belge des Hautes Etudes Chinoises (1977). Norman, Jerry. A Concise Manchu-English Lexicon. Seattle and London: University of Washington Press (1978). Öztopçu, Kurtuluş et al. Dictionary of the Turkic Languages. London and New York: Routledge (1996). Ramstedt, G. J. Kalmückisches Wörterbuch. Helsinki: Suomalais-Ugrilainen Seura (1976). Ramstedt, G. J. Studies in Korean Etymology. Helsinki: Suomalais-Ugrilainen Seura (1949). Refsing, Kirsten (editor). Origins of the Ainu Language: The Ainu Indo-European Controversy. Richmond, Surrey: Curzon Press. Reprint (2001). Ruhlen, Merritt. On the Origin of Languages: Studies in Linguistic Taxonomy. Stanford: Stanford University Press (1994). Schiefner, Anton. M. Alexander Castrén’s Versuch einer Koibalischen und Karagassischen Sprachlehre. St. Petersburg: Buchdruckerei der Kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften (1857). Tekin, Talât. A Grammar of Orkhon Turkish. Bloomington: Indiana University. The Hague, Mouton and Company (1968). Todaeva, B. X. Dagurskii Yazık. Moscow: Nauka (1986). Tsintsius, V. I. (editor). Sravnitel’nıy Slovar Tunguso-Manczurskix Yazıkov, (2 volumes), Leningrad: Nauka (1975).

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Albina Girfanova (1957–2018)

Gender Features of the Kinship System and Terminology Among the Udeghe When it comes to gender features in the Altaic languages, what first comes to mind are the so-called honorific forms used by women in the Korean language. It is interesting to note that, as specialists have observed, these forms have practically fallen out of use in South Korea, obviously because of changes in the lifestyle in this part of the Korean peninsula, i. e. its Westernization. Under the influence of Confucian philosophy, which found its way into Korea around the middle of the first millennium B. C., the gender stereotypes that are reflected in Korean sayings were shaped. Confucianism had an especially profound effect on everyday family life as well as family and kinship relations. The majority of the rules of conduct applied directly to women. As a result of the traditions of ancestor worship and filial respect, developed under Confucianism, a woman’s status in the family and the tribe was low. To say nothing of their position in the society as a whole — they were never perceived as having any sort of independent identity whatsoever, and, with rare exceptions, were not able to manifest their individuality. Within her own family, a woman had an unequal, degraded status. An unwanted child in the family of her father, who was always longing for sons, a young girl, from her early years, was distinctly aware that she was inferior. Her elders, first and foremost her mother, prepared her for marriage and inculcated in her the rules of propriety and her duty to submit to her elders and her husband. An analysis of Korean sayings has made it possible to bring to light a large number of gender stereotypes that describe men and women according to various characteristics. Most of the negative stereotypes relate to women, especially to their role in the family, as a wife. According to what is evidenced in Korean and Russian sayings, a wife has the following qualities: garrulousness, inability to keep secrets, laziness, inability to do the housekeeping, testiness and extravagance. On the other hand, stereotypical perceptions of men are positive in nature. (A man does not go back on his word, even in a thousand years.) For members of the Korean culture, within their consciousness, a woman’s age is of great significance. Up to the age of thirty, she is compared to a flower, but after that nobody will even look at her. (When a woman is over the age of thirty, even a blind bird will not glance back at her.) It is known that special forms existed in the written Middle Mongolian language. But since I am not an expert on any of them, I would like to turn my attention to features of the Udeghe language. Once again, as to the gender differences in the Udeghe Albina Girfanova (1957–2018), St. Petersburg University, Russia https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-009

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culture, we could speak about cultural differentiation, which is to say that the men are traditionally engaged in hunting and fishing, and the women manage the household and involve themselves in such handicrafts as the processing and embossing of leather, needlework, and the making of objects out of birch bark. As for the Udeghe language, gender differences can obviously be identified among the kinship terms. The Udeghe kinship terms have never been closely examined; furthermore, the unique features of kinship among all the Tungusic peoples have been little studied, and the terminology has, on the whole, remained unsystematized. Field data collected by the author as a result of expeditions to the areas where speakers of the Udeghe language live, the Khabarovsk Krai and Primorsk Krai, serve as the basis for this article. The Udeghe system of kinship is in many respects similar to comparable systems found among the Orochi and Nanai peoples and, to a lesser extent, among the Tungus people of the North. In the past, polygamy, the custom of levirate and cross-cousin forms of marriage were practiced. In the latter case, such marriages were strictly patrilinear (a younger brother of a man who had died could take as a wife the widow of the deceased, and a nephew could marry the widow of one of his father’s younger brothers). Marriages were allowed between ascendant and descendant generations (just as they were among the Nanai, the Orochi and the Ulchi peoples). As a rule, marriages were arranged by means of exchange, ransom or (less frequently) abduction of the bride. Among the sons, a marriage was arranged for the eldest first, and then for the rest. Young girls were often bartered into marriage when they were still children, a custom that was advantageous since they moved in with their future husband’s family once and for all and became involved in the household chores, which were anything but easy. There was also a contractual form of matrilocal marriage; such contracts were presumably concluded in the absence of either a sister to exchange or the means necessary to purchase the bride, and also when the potential father-in-law did not have a son who could feed him later in life. In addition, there was a prevailing custom to take a bride from the clan of the mother’s brothers (i. e., wives were taken from one and the same clan). The institution of matchmaking was not legalized, and its absence is confirmed by examination of the lexis. All negotiations were carried out between the parents of the bride-to-be and those of the potential groom or directly with the groom himself. The bride’s ransom was referred to as moŭ (cf. the Evenki and Even mopu ‘ransom’, the Orochi moŭu, and the Turkoman moŭ, myŭ ‘feast’, ‘wedding’), a word that had to do with things that were given to her father. Toŭ included kettles, nightgowns, hides, furs and a certain sum of money. Along with this word, on the periphery of narrowly-specialized kinship terms, the following words can be found: mafas’a (мафас’а) ‘old man’ and od’o (одо’), with the same meaning, which were used to denote both one’s own grandfather and great-grandfather; mam’asa (мам’аса) ‘old woman’ (and also ‘wife’ if the word was used in the possessive form — cf. ‘my old

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woman’); and mama (мама) ‘old woman’ (see below), which was, at the same time, the name for one’s own grandmother and great-grandmother. Irrespective of the generations and the sex, these words were also used: ӡala ‘kin’ (blood relatives), ‘one’s own’, ‘nearest and dearest’; sә (сɜ), ‘clan’ (a group of blood relatives) (also in the sense of ‘last name’); and aηnaxi (аӈнаxи) ‘outsider’, ‘non-relative’. With regard to descendant generations, Schneider noted the collective od’o (одо’) ‘grandfathers (great-grandfathers) and their brothers’, i.e., predominantly agnatic ancestors, but also husbands of the mother’s and father’s sisters, if they were older than the parents, and any non-relative who was older than them; and mama (мaмa) ‘grandmothers (great-grandmothers)’ on both the mother’s and father’s side and their sisters, according to all degrees of kinship, and also elder sisters of the father and mother (‘aunts’), wives of all elder relatives (‘step-aunts’, ‘sisters-in-law’), and wives of the father, if they were older than the mother — indeed, all females were referred to in this way if they were older than the parents (i.e., ‘grandmother’, ‘old woman’) – ag’a (aга’) was used to address a wide range of people — male relatives (that would be the ego’s male cousins of all degrees of kinship who were older than him and younger brothers of his father, i.e., ‘younger uncles’), and also those non-relatives who were older than the ego but younger than his father; indirect reference to individuals in this group ‘aindima (а’индима) ‘elder’—әхә (эхэ) was observed to address female relatives and cousins-in-law: this was the ego’s elder sisters, younger sisters of his father who were older than their nephews (‘elder aunts’), and younger sisters of the mother if they were older than the nephews (possessive forms developed from the base form эхu-); nәηu (нэӈу) denoted the sisters and daughters of those relatives who were younger than the ego, and also the wives of all of the men in his clan who were older than him, as well as all females from other clans if they were younger than him, and if the speaker was younger than their parents. – abuga, abugu (абуга, -у) ‘father’ (as a form of address), was the base morpheme of the possessive forms ami(ni-) (ами(ни-)) — әniηә (эниӈэ) ‘mama, mother’ (as forms of address), әnini, әniti (энини, энити) was ‘mother’ (used only with personal pronouns in the genitive case, and also when a husband addressed his wife), әni (энu) ‘mother’, if the word was used with a possessive suffix (without the suffix, it referred to adult female moose, and Far Eastern red deer); sūsu (сусу) pertained to ‘a father’s younger brother, i.e., a younger uncle’. The ego was represented in speech by pronominal forms, namely personal pronouns (бu ‘I’, сu ‘you’, уmы, бэŭэнu ‘he’) and possessive pronouns and endings, finally the impersonal form ni (нu), literally ‘person’. – mafa (мафа) signified ‘husband’ (with a possessive suffix), as well as the respectful form of address ‘old man’ (the very same word was another way of referring to a bear); atiga (атига) meant ‘wife’; dogdi (догди) was a general form of address for a husband to his wife and vice versa (literally “Listen!”), and уŭnэ’у was

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used as a form of address by a first wife when talking to a second (our discovery — A. G.); sitә (ситэ) — ‘son (daughter)’ (‘baby, child’ as well). In addition, mafati (мафати) ‘husband-to-be’, as a potential kinsman and nau (нау) ‘widower, widow’, characterizing the family status of the ego, can be added to this series of words. xа (ха) ‘full brother (sister)’, duleæ (дуля) ‘middle brother’, neædiga (нядыга) ‘youngest brother (sister)’ (used as a personal name), nәxus’ә (нэхусэ’)‘younger brother (sister) as a form of address (found only in fairytales), зala’ (ӡала’) ‘first cousin (male)’, essentially a form of address, әkcә (экчэ) ‘second cousin (male)’, nimәηkә (нимэӈкэ) ‘third cousin’ (also ‘neighbor’) and хunaзi (хунаӡи) ‘sister’ (any degree of kinship) should also be noted. sәηgitә (сэӈгитэ) was ‘a clansman of either sex of the husband (wife)’ and tuәxә (туэхэ) was ‘a clansman of either sex of the wife’ (whose mother belongs to the same clan as the mother of the speaker). omolo (омоло) denoted particular persons from a wide range of blood relatives and relatives by marriage of either sex who were younger than the ego: grandsons and their wives (granddaughters and their husbands), great-grandsons and their wives (great-granddaughters and their husbands), younger brothers and sisters of all degrees of kinship and the wives of these brothers or husbands of these sisters, the wives of the children of the younger and older brothers, if they were younger than the ego, and also all non-relatives if they were older than their parents. The form nәηundimә (нэӈундимэ) ‘younger’ (relating to persons of either sex), used without regard to kinship, can be found on the periphery of this system.

In the course of our fieldwork, we recorded the kinship terms that are of Chinese origin, prevailing among the Bikinsky Udeghes, who live in a region where the influence of the Chinese language was considerable. – Йеŭе ‘paternal grandfather’ and лауŭе ‘maternal grandfather’, наŭна ‘paternal grandmother’ and лаулу ‘maternal grandmother’ are examples. – Даŭа ‘father’s elder brother’, cусу ‘father’s younger brother’, ƨосо’ ‘mother’s brother’, саƨды ƨос’о ‘mother’s elder brother’, uца ƨос’о ‘mother’s younger brother’ in Udeghe сагды ‘big, elder’, ица (Бик., Им.) ‘little’ — ƨуƨу ‘father’s sister’, ƨуфу ‘husband of a father’s sister’, иняха ‘mother’s sister’, ифу ‘husband of a mother’s sister’, санuха ‘wife of a younger uncle’, данuха ‘wife of an elder uncle’, ӡефу ‘brother-in-law’, эрсuфэ ‘daughter-in-law’, 老公公 lǎo gōng gong ‘father-in-law’, 后妈 (hòu mā) ху де 后爹 (hòu diē）ху де ‘stepfather’. In the ego generation: – ƨэƨэ ‘brother’, даƨэ ‘elder brother’, сяоƨэ ‘younger brother’, ӡалямu ‘first (male) cousin’, экцэ ‘second (male) cousin’ — ӡеӡе ‘elder sister’, чuлогдо ‘middle sister’, as a form of address, сэуцӡэ ‘wife of an elder brother’, эуŭе ‘husband of an elder sister’.

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Нuӈаса (uӈаса) ‘nephew’, суэндзэ ‘daughter’s son’ — ваuс’о ‘daughter’s daughter’, бuӡэu ‘granddaughter’, омело(ŭu) — ‘daughter-in-law’.

As can be seen from the foregoing lists (it is scarcely worthwhile to combine them into one as soon as we begin to consider different dialects), kinship terms that were borrowed ran parallel, on the whole, to the lexis of the original language and were, as a rule, used as synonyms for the latter. Some substantive dialectal differences (i.e., those associated with different ways of articulating day-to-day realities and delineating their various qualitative aspects) can be observed. For example, among the Khor Udeghe the form of address used between spouses is доƨды, while among the Bikin Udeghe it is ƨаƨда if a marriage is childless and амumu or энumu when there are children. Curiously enough, the form of address nәхus’ә (нэхусэ’) ‘younger brother (sister)’ is found only in folk literature. These lists of kinship terms are clearly not exhaustive, but there is nothing else that we can draw upon when considering the Udeghe kinship system. On the whole, linguistic data reinforce the evidence of patriarchal-generic relations among the Udeghe as recently as the first third of the 20th century (Shnejder 1937). The designations of male relatives turn out to be more differentiated than those of female relatives. Along both male and female lines, ancestors differed more logically according to descendant kinship than ascendant. Virtually along both descendant and ascendant lines, the designations presented to describe the real blood kinship ties that form during the life of one generation go no further than the third degree of consanguinity if the ego generation is considered to be the first (the generation of the great-grandfather, as it turns out, is already relegated to the category of historical ancestors, to that of “forefathers” in the collective sense). In any “ego” generation, asymmetrical relations favoring the elder over the younger played a significant role, even when it was a question of “aliens”; what is more, it was the age hierarchy that overrode family relations and formed the kinship system (the status of the elders was higher). Today, among the Udeghe, who have virtually lost their language but preserved a pronounced ethnic identity, the conventional Russian terms of kinship prevail, in the use of which we have not observed any indigenous features.

Bibliography Arsenyev, V. K.: Lesnyje ljudi udehejcy. Vladivostok, 1926. Cincius, V. I.: Voprosy etimologii terminov rodstva i svojstva u tungusomanchzhurskikh narodov. Uchenyje zapiski LGPI V. 269. Jazyki i folklore narodov Krajnego Severa. Leningrad, 1965.

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Cincius, V. I.: Altajskije terminy rodstva i problema ikh etimologii: problema obschnosti altajskikh jazykov. Leningrad, 1970. Cincius, V. I.: K etimologii altajskikh terminov rodstva. Ocherki sravniteljnoj leksikologii altajskikh jazykov. Leningrad, 1972. Larjkin, V. G.: Etnographicheskoje izuchenije imanskikh i hungarijskikh udegejcev // Trudy Dalnevostochnogo filiala SO AN SSSR. Seria istoricheskaja, T.1. Saransk. 1959. Podmaskin V.V.: Narodnyje znanija udegejcev: Istoriko-etnographicheskoje issledovanije po materialam XIX–XX vв. Vladivostok, 1998. Sravniteljnyj slovarj tunguso-manchzhurskikh jazykov: Materialy k etimologicheskomu slovarju / Ed. V.I.Cincius. Leningrad, 1975. V. 1; 1977. V. 2. Shnejder, E. R.: Kratkij udejsko-russkij slovarj (S prilozheniejm grammaticheskogo ocherka). Moskva; Leningrad., 1936. Shnejder, E. R.: Materialy po jazyku anjujskikh ude. Moskva; Leningrad., 1937.

Abdurrahman Gülbeyaz

The Universal and the Language-Specific in the Construction of Gender: A Comparative Semiotic Study Gender and the Human Condition I will firstly attempt to place the institution of gender into a context which I believe to be the only appropriate context for the discussion and comprehension of the fundamental organising principles of social life in humanoid societies. Due to the given unavoidable physical restrictions I will formulate my line of argument in a somewhat sketchy manner in relatively loose chunks of reasoning. The sociological and sociolinguistic basics concerning the notion ‘gender’ will be assumed as given. That is, I shall not talk about the way how gender like language, economy, religion, family etc. forms and configures the daily life of the members of humanoid societies and how it — while doing this — flows through, imbues and impregnates the above-mentioned major social institutions. However, I will, albeit very briefly, try to refer to the differential features of the institution of gender, as I understand it. Right from the outset I want to draw attention to the fact that a discourse on ‘gender’ involves, regardless of the respective particular intention or objective, at least three constitutive facets — each of which splits further into at least two sub-layers, the one being the diachronic and the other synchronic. The first facet is the fact that the notion ‘gender’ was fabricated as one of the latest, if not currently the latest, member of a small set of intricately related concepts, all of which historically emerged and developed in emerging capitalist Western nations, that became the rulers of the globe during a period of time between the 16th and 20th centuries. In his The Age of Capital 1848–1875 Eric Hobsbawm emphasises in this connection, above all, the second half of the 19th century, when the process of industrialisation reached a qualitatively new level, on which the underground foundations of the modern global power-structure were once and for all laid.1

1 “But between 1848 and 1871, or more precisely during the 1860s, three things happened. First, the expansion of industrialisation produced other essentially industrial capitalist powers besides Britain: the United States, Prussia (Germany) and, to a much greater extent than before, France, later to be joined by Japan. Second, the progress of industrialisation increasingly made wealth and industrial capacity the decisive factor in international power ; hence devaluing the relative standing of Russia and Abdurrahman Gülbeyaz, Nagasaki University https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-010

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The massive socio-political restructuring which laid the substratum of the said “modern global power structure”was triggered off by a series of interconnected economic, technologic, military, demographic, linguistic, educational, ideological, religious etc. transformations, which for their part had been set in motion by the extensive contact of the Europeans with the societies in the Near East and with their arabophone — or, more precisely, Arabic-writing — scholars, philosophers and scientists during 12th, 13th and 14th centuries. In order to anticipatorily counteract potential misunderstandings, I would, at this point, like to expressly emphasise that these transformations, however dramatic and far-reaching they might have been, did not amount to a qualitative revolutionary change — which would have led to the thorough abolition of social and political power structures or at least a radical redistribution of economic and political power — but were nothing more than tributary processes of an intrasystemic adaptive reorientation resp. reconfiguration process. For at the end of the day, the new rulers were, once more, the same old rulers or their descendants, and the new underlings were again the same old underlings or their offspring. The noble landowner became factory owner and the knight, the hired soldier of the former, became general in the modern army. Cathedrals have been transformed into academic cathedras2 and the cleric became professor. The serf became proletarian and the artisan foreman. Even so, this intrasystemic reconfiguration, the rejuvenatory self-adjustment of the decrepit system in response to the overwhelming surge of multifarious changes, had to develop and deliver — as is the rule with any restructuring of the existing power constellation since the spirit of God got bored of hovering all alone upon the face of the waters — the fundamental language elements3 for the constitution of its self-legitimatory mode of meaning generation, or, in other words, for the construction of a programming language capable of reprogramming the Zeitgeist.4 This reprogramming, an exhaustive reinterpretation/rereading of natural and social phenomena,

France, and greatly increasing that of Prussia (Germany). Third, the emergence as independent powers of two extra-European states, the United States (united under the North in the Civil War) and Japan (systematically embarking on ‘modernisation’ with the Meiji Restoration of 1868), created for the first time the possibility of global power-conflict. The increasing tendency of European businessmen and governments to expand their activities overseas, and to find themselves involved with other powers in such areas as the Far East and the Middle East (Egypt), reinforced this possibility.” (Hobsbawm, The Age of Capital 1848 1875, 100–101.) 2 Cf. Gülbeyaz “Meaning in Language and Music: Sign and Slaughter”, 12. 3 A vocabulary — a set of terms, expressions and definitions — and syntactic rules. 4 This ‘programming language’ was and is an alternative mode of linguistic processing and reprocessing that is capable of modifying resp. rewriting the history, the present and the future of a given social universe or a subspace thereof into a continuous and comprehensive narrative. There would be no harm in analogising this narrative to the epic of Enuma Elish, which fulfilled, during the reshuffle of power positions in the Sumero-Babylonian Pantheon, precisely the above depicted function, thus enabling the consolidation, on the one hand, of the newly won supremacy of Marduk, who had been

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necessitated qualitatively new and powerful tools. Along an intricate process which could be described in the light of a set of keywords such as mercantilisation, rationalisation, industrialisation, marketisation, nationalisation, unification, homogenisation, uniformisation, monolingualisation, a small set of ground-breaking inventions and ingenious creations, the ‘modern subject’, ‘individual’, ‘identity’, ‘race’, ‘ethnicity’, ‘nation’ and the ‘culture’, constituted a vigorous and secure fundament for the said task of reinterpretation. Since every single one of these inventions proved to be a powerful generator of a multitude of further secondary productions they constituted, so to speak, the heavy industry of immaterial production and reproduction of modern societies.5 The second facet involved in any conceivable discourse on ‘gender’ is the already mentioned sociological and in connection with it psychological component. The notion ‘gender’ came into general social-scientific usage in the knowledge production sector of highly developed western societies in the late 20th century, mainly as a result of the women’s liberation movement on the one hand and feminist social-scientific production on the other. There is a unanimous consensus among researchers that the concept of ‘gender’ is a product of the so-called ‘second-wave feminism’.6 It has since then been a mighty pivotal concept by means of which the entire history of human civilisation has been repeatedly reread and reprocessed. In a relatively short period of time ‘gender’ has developed into a conceptual tool which has meanwhile almost

nothing but a minor Old-Sumerian deity, and on the other and in direct connection with it, of the law and order of Hammurabi, the sixth King of the First Dynasty of Babylon. 5 Cf. Gülbeyaz, “A New Approach to Language Acquisition and Learning: Beyond Skinner and Chomsky.” 6 “All feminism is characterised by a political commitment to change existing power relations between men and women, but feminist thought is perceived as having advanced in three separate waves. There is some disagreement amongst feminists as to the precise breakdown of these stages; one common definition is outlined here (after Humm1995; Brooks 1997). ‘First wave’ refers to the suffrage movements, between roughly 1880 and 1920, through which women achieved public emancipation and greater rights in the realms of politics, education and employment. The late 1960s saw the emergence of ‘second wave’ feminism, which focused more on personal issues of equality in relation to sexuality, reproduction, and fulfilment in public and private spheres (Deckard 1975). The intellectual movements that grew out of the second wave were concerned with identifying the root causes of women’s oppression: in particular, the theory of patriarchy provided a universal, explanatory framework. ‘Third wave’ feminism has emerged over the last decade, as feminist theorists have embraced elements of postmodernist thought and shifted their interests to more cultural and symbolic approaches. Significantly, the universalist meta-narratives of second wave feminism have been replaced by greater pluralism, while the emphasis on addressing inequality between men and women has been superseded by the imperative to understand gender ‘difference’ (Brooks 1997).” (Gilchrist, Gender and archaeology: Contesting the past, 2.)

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the exclusive say in probably the oldest and most elemental regulatory principle of humanoid societies.7 The third facet is the linguistic / sociolinguistic facet of ‘gender’. The relation of gender and language is a bifacial relation. Gender belongs on the one hand to those abstract categories which govern the basic syntactic behaviour of the classes of the lexis of a given natural language such as case, number, tense, mood, etc. and on the other hand it refers to the production and reproduction of the two basic, primordial social institutions of the human society: man and woman. The first-mentioned face of ‘gender’ which has so far been dealt with within the framework of traditional linguistic theory on the basis of the dichotomy of grammatical gender and natural gender must be regarded and dealt with as a language-specific phenomenon whereas the second face stands evidently for one of the pivotal universals of human civilisation. À propos of the network of concepts of which the youngest offshoot is the notion ‘gender’ I would — self-referentially and self-critically — like to allude to the fact that the concepts at issue here are all artefacts of professional social scientific activity in the modern western societies wherefrom they were preached and disseminated to the rest of the globe. The scientific activity which, to put it in a few words, springs from the separation of social production and linguistic processing or reprocessing of the same, manifests itself at first sight in the form of a quasi-translational process: it renames, codifies and encodes the social, that is, it subjects the social to a radical transformation, a process which I term, dependent on certain parameters, either ‘trans-semiosis’ or ‘re-semiosis’. In connection with the present state of the human condition, I believe that all social acts, processes and institutions, both in their planning and construction phases, together with their phases of realisation and execution, and also in relation to all consequences derived from them, are signs or sign phenomena. In other words, all acts of the social human being — whether they be hypothetical, real or unreal — are semiotic phenomena (cf. Gülbeyaz, “Küresel-Toplumsal Dönüşüm Süreçleri ve Dillerin Devinimi,” 343 ff.). Before all else, this fact has to do with the specific modality of human existence. It originally stands in relation to the nature of the material texture of the human species, i. e. its corporeality as an ontological entity. As opposed to the ideal liquid, ideal solutions or ideal gases, the human body does not constitute an amorphous, homogenous continuum, but rather manifests itself in the form-bound, and to all appearances self-acting clumps or chunks of biomass. This fact is both the source and the explanation for the spatio-temporal laceration —, that profound, baying breach —, the differential aspect that defines human existence.8

7 “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.” (Old Testament, King James Version, Genesis 1:27) 8 Cf. Gülbeyaz, “Ungenierte Meditationen über Zeichentheorie mit Schwerpunkt auf Komplexen Zeichenprozessen”, 159 ff.

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It is, furthermore, exactly this process which I take as the basis for my critique and repudiation of the prevailing modern concept of ‘culture’ and my attempt at a reformulation of an admissible and justifiable ‘culture’-concept. I proposed elsewhere to define ‘culture’ as the interface between socialised intelligent earthlings and their natural environment where the denaturalisation process, with all its layers and facets, occurs. According to the theoretical template developed there, ‘culture’ is necessarily a categorical singulare tantum, it is a sign whose signifier reached in the course of a series of re-semiosis such a degree of permeability and elasticity that it is capable of pointing to all conceivable phenomena, events, artefacts, aspects etc. of the said interface where the denaturalising humanoid and Mother Nature meet and interact.9 The result of such a re-semiosis is necessarily abstract and non-representational. It stands for something that constitutes the conditio sine qua non of anything human. That is, it precedes and embraces everything human, every conceivable human act so that there is neither a tenable need nor indeed a feasible way to speak about it.10 If, having touched upon the socio-historical moments and layers in which the phenomenon gender is embedded and the basic concepts relating to them whose acquaintance is an irreducible prerequisite for the understanding of gender and genderrelated phenomena, I was to take a closer glance at the approaches to the concept of ‘gender’ in the modern feminist and post-feminist literature, a broad spectrum of gradient shading with hardly discernible transition zones would come to light. Even so, the outermost margins of this gamut of loosely connected approaches could be contrasted with each other. The one pole would then be characterized by the tendency to derive ‘gender’ from the biologically given features, to put it ultimately down to the ‘sex’.11 This approach departs from the assumption / postulation that ‘sex’ is an a pri-

9 The interaction is indeed hardly an interaction for it consists basically in the one-sided and still fruitless efforts of the first for the purpose of freeing itself from the latter by cutting the tough umbilical cord connecting both ontologically. Its efforts are fruitless because the instrument or the technology required for a successful cord severance is still waiting to be developed / invented. Ontologically speaking, the intelligent earthling is still there where it stood in the so-called Neolithic Age. 10 The consequence of this is obvious: First, a thus conceived concept of ‘culture’ is not suitable to be employed as a conceptual tool in the so-called social scientific activity/production. It lacks the capacity of transmitting anything concerning any marked/definable phenomenon. Secondly, the noun ‘culture’ is necessarily a singulare tantum. Whoever employs it as a plurale tantum lines up nolens volens with the tradition of Herder and the German Idealists and submits himself to that sanguinary biologism which has exterminated in the last three centuries with increasing efficacy innumerable humanoids. And lastly, any scientific model, any scientific discourse, any scientific attempt which relies upon the concept of ‘culture’ would yield nothing but destruction for both sides of the interface introduced above. 11 The extreme outpost of this side of the scope would be the sociobiologists’ account of gender. Sociobiologists depart from the supposition that gender difference, sexual preference etc. — as is human behaviour in general — ultimately driven and regulated by a set of innate forces programmed and transmitted genetically.

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ory given solid pedestal on which the entire edifice of linguistic practice / production concerning ‘gender’ and related phenomena comes to pass.12 This uni-directional quasi-chronological approach according to which ‘gender’ is a somehow — socially, ‘culturally’ etc. — processed, transformed reproduction of ‘sex’ was radically rejected and opposed by Judith Butler in her 1990 published book Gender Trouble: “It would make no sense, then, to define gender as the cultural interpretation of sex, if sex itself is a gendered category. Gender ought not to be conceived merely as the cultural inscription of meaning on a pre-given sex (a juridical conception); gender must also designate the very apparatus of production whereby the sexes themselves are established. As a result, gender is not to culture as sex is to nature; gender is also the discursive/cultural means by which ‘sexed nature’ or ‘a natural sex’ is produced and established as ‘pre-discursive,’ prior to culture, a politically neutral surface on which culture acts.” (Butler, Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity, 11)

Gender and Language The social institution of ‘gender’ belongs simply and precisely, along with the entire set of phenomena subsumed uncritically and almost automatically under the concept of ‘culture’, to this interface devised and depicted above. I divide the history of human species i. e., the process of humanisation, into three overarching stages. The first one is the primordial soup, the urschleim, the pre-semiotic era. The second one is the early semiotic age the inception of which is marked by the first semiotic act, the first semiosis; that is by the first word-like exclamation, by what I elsewhere called ‘the Adornoian ur-cry’.13 With ‘the Adornoian ur-cry’ the first fissure splits open, the denaturalisation gets under way. The third stage is the current socio-historical space-time whose dawn coincides with the beginning of what is called the Neolithic. The third stage revolutionises the conditions and parameters at the above said ‘nature vs. human interface’ and elevates the level of denaturalization process qualitatively (the Neolithic revolution marks the beginning of sedentary human society and with it the whole array of developments such as surplus production, food preservation technology, pottery, private property, social classes, writing, priest-scientist cast etc., which straight away and seamlessly lead to the present stage of human civilisation).

12 “My definition of gender has two parts and several subsets. They are interrelated but must be analytically distinct. The core of the definition rests on an integral connection between two propositions: gender is a constitutive element of social relationships based on perceived differences between the sexes, and gender is a primary way of signifying relationships of power.” (Scott, “Gender as a Useful Category of Historical Analysis,” 66.) 13 Cf. Gülbeyaz, “Ungenierte Meditationen über Zeichentheorie mit Schwerpunkt auf Komplexen Zeichenprozessen,” 159ff.

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Ontologically speaking, the intelligent earthling is still there where it stood in the socalled Neolithic Age. Correlating the gender and the related phenomena with the above sketched stages would show that the ‘biological sex’ is a phenomenon of the pre-semiotic era, the urschleim. Sexuality and gender emerge with the beginning of the primordial fissure and accompany the entire process of denaturalisation down to the present day. They won’t cease to exist as pivotal mighty social institutions moulding social behaviour and permeating simultaneously the other relevant social institutions until the process of denaturalisation is completed (something, by the way, even the most daring science-fiction writers or directors just don’t seem to be able to depict or dream of). The one and only basic form of social organisation brought about by the denaturalizing humanoids since the known beginnings of the history of so called human civilisation is what I have elsewhere called a ‘death-driven phallocracy’.14 The interstice that results from the pre-semiotic ur-rift is pointed or stopped up by signs resp. by semiosis. Spoken language occupies the uppermost position in the hierarchy of the socially relevant sign-systems.15 In other words, the linguistic semiosis is the epitome of semiotic processing. In order to function and to subsist stably, every relevant social institution with its, as a rule quite complex, periphery and intricately twisted relation to the other social institutions has to be produced and continually reproduced by and within at least one of the socially relevant semiotic systems. The linguistic semiosis seems to mark in this connection some sort of a threshold value; so that it could be assumed that linguistic semiosis constitutes the minimal precondition for any social phenomenon to come into being and to subsist. In accordance with this assumption I would assume that the social institution of ‘gender’ emerged in the vernacular of the communities of denaturalising humanoids. Above all in the modern western societies it is now reproduced not only in language but also in almost all relevant semiotic systems. It seems to be safe to state on the basis of observations — both synchronically and diachronically — that all known human forms of social organisation, that is all types of ‘death-driven phallocracy’ are gendered societies. There is so far no exception to this circumstance. But as far as the vernaculars of these gendered societies are concerned there are, in terms of governing grammatical structures and processes, gendering languages and non-gendering ones. A superficial juxtaposition of some of the major language families would reveal that for example, the so-called Semitic languages and almost all Indo-European languages are strongly gendering on the level of morpho-syntax, whereas modern Turkish and the other Altaic languages like, among others, Sino-Tibetan and Uralic languages, 14 Cf. Gülbeyaz, “Musicalization of Language as a Mode of Social Memory Construction and as a Strategy of Self-Preservation of the Oppressed,” 73ff. 15 For a detailed discussion cf. Gülbeyaz, “Ungenierte Meditationen über Zeichentheorie mit Schwerpunkt auf Komplexen Zeichenprozessen,” 159ff.

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do not gender at all morphosyntactically. The repeated and stressed reference to the morpho-syntax is in this connection crucial. For it is simply impossible to cleanly demarcate a social sphere from a linguistic one. It is practically impossible to declare that, e. g., the society in modern Turkey is a gendered society but the vernacular of this society, the modern Turkish, is not a gendering language. As I both overtly and implicitly stated above every social act and institution is before anything else languagesemiotic act. Every conceivable act of social gender-ascription has before anything else to be a semiosis and therein above all a linguistic semiosis. Accordingly, the Turkish language as well is ultimately not clear of or immune to the phenomenon of linguistic gendering. That the morphological and syntactical laws and criteria that govern the behaviour and the modes of operation of the physical units and constituents of a given language do not entail the category of gender does not rule out the probability that on other layers of language the phenomenon of ‘gender’ decisively marks and shapes the linguistic behaviour. The Japanese language, for example, is, as expected, a morphosyntactically non-gendering language like Turkish. But society on the Japanese archipelago is, in comparison with that of modern Turkey, exceedingly gendered, so that the Japanese language has developed strategies on the level of discourse and pragmatics which endow the speaker with the capability of dealing with and processing the said exceptional genderedness of the Japanese society. An important aspect which needs to be taken into account in this connection is that — despite the fact that they all are nothing but varieties of one and the same mode of social organisation — the degree of genderedness among different societies differs significantly. We know that European societies, above all those with Germanic languages,16 — not only have strongly gendering languages, but also they all are heavily gendered societies. In this connection, it seems to me to be of some relevance to contemplate this circumstance from a certain perspective: with almost no exceptions, the languages of the so-called cradle of civilisation, i. e., of the regions identified as the sites of the emergence of civilisation (Semitic and Indo-European languages) are strongly gendering languages. This area was and is, at the same time, the birthplace and the playground of Abrahamism, the mighty monotheistic religion with its three basic variants, or rather three subsequent historical stages of development: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. On the other hand, Turkish and the other Altaic languages are, in sharp contrast to the former, morphosyntactically non-gendering. The question which imposes itself upon me in the face of this comparison is if there is a causal link between linguistic gender and the material conditions governing the socio-historical genesis and development of respective societies. I provisionally tend to answer this question in the af-

16 Apart from the exceptional development of the English language which is presently counted as a non-gendering language.

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firmative. The reasons of this bias have partly been presented — even though more tacitly than overtly — within the course of my reasoning so far. Furthermore, I cannot prevent myself from making a rather personal remark on this state of affairs: I personally suffer under the extreme difficulty — if not even sheer impossibility — of articulating something — say, ordering a cup of coffee in a cafeteria — in German or similar gendering languages without simultaneously and automatically fabricating a complex network of sexes and genders, an entire social texture and text based on — if not even consisting in — the phallic binomials. Turkish is, needless to add, a heavenly port where I feel — at least in this respect — safe and secure.

The Making of Man and Woman The civilisation of Men and Women is founded in the main on a phallus-oriented if not even phallus-generated dichotomy which, I believe, could be referred to as phallic or phallogenic dichotomy. This basic dichotomy underlies the creation and perpetuation of the institutions ‘man’ and ‘woman’ in human society. In this connection I think it would not be out of place to refer to the fact that Lacan assigns, in a somewhat similar manner, a central position to the concept of ‘phallus’ within his theory of ‘man’ and ‘woman’. The mode of operation along which the sexual differentiation in Lacanian psychoanalysis is realised is illustrated in Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble: “Being” the Phallus and “having” the Phallus denote divergent sexual positions, or nonpositions (impossible positions, really), within language. To “be” the Phallus is to be the “signifier” of the desire of the Other and to appear as this signifier. In other words, it is to be the object, the Other of a (heterosexualized) masculine desire, but also to represent or reflect that desire. This is an Other that constitutes, not the limit of masculinity in a feminine alterity, but the site of a masculine self-elaboration. For women to “be” the Phallus means, then, to reflect the power of the Phallus, to signify that power, to “embody” the Phallus, to supply the site to which it penetrates, and to signify the Phallus through “being” its Other, its absence, its lack, the dialectical confirmation of its identity. By claiming that the Other that lacks the Phallus is the one who is the Phallus, Lacan clearly suggests that power is wielded by this feminine position of not-having, that the masculine subject who “has” the Phallus requires this Other to confirm and, hence, be the Phallus in its “extended” sense. (Butler, Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity, 56)

The similarity of the Lacanian position and the position developed in the present paper consists basically if not even exclusively in the fact that both approaches establish and emphasize that the institution ‘man’ owes its existence and subsistence to the ‘woman’, i. e., that the former cannot reproduce and preserve itself without the latter. An additional point worth mentioning in this connection is the role the language and modern linguistic theory are assigned in Lacan’s theoretical edifice: Freud could not have taken into account modern linguistics, which postdates him, but I would maintain that Freud’s discovery stands out precisely because, in setting out from a domain in

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which one could not have expected to encounter linguistics’ reign, it had to anticipate its formulations. Conversely, it is Freud’s discovery that gives the signifier/signified opposition its full scope: for the signifier plays an active role in determining the effects by which the signifiable appears to succumb to its mark, becoming, through that passion, the signified. This passion of the signifier thus becomes a new dimension of the human condition in that it is not only man who speaks, but in man and through man that it [ça] speaks; in that his nature becomes woven by effects in which the structure of the language of which he becomes the material can be found again; and in that the relation of speech thus resonates in him, beyond anything that could have been conceived of by the psychology of ideas. (Lacan, Jacques. Écrits: the first complete edition in English. 578)

Below is a simple table which illustrates the generation of not only ‘sex’ and ‘sexuality’ but also implicitly the gender differences on the basis of a unique operator: ‘phallus’. Table 1: Sex, Sexuality and Gender

basal phallogenic dichotomy man

woman

subtypes heterosexual homosexual bisexual heterosexual homosexual bisexual

distinguishing feature primary secondary possesses phallus mates with phallus (phallus possessor) (phallophile) + + + – – –

– + +/– + – –/+

The sub-typology of this basal phallogenic dichotomy becomes in certain areas more and more sophisticated and branches further out on the basis of tertiary features such as [penetration]. The analysis of possible combinations with this additional feature would yield two new subtypes in the vernacular of modern Turkey: [+ phallus] [+ phallophile] [+ penetration] = kulampara (active male homosexual) [+ phallus] [+ phallophile] [− penetration] = puşt (passive male homosexual) The supremacy of phallus emerges in that ‘woman’ is constructed in accordance with the primary distinguishing feature [− phallus]. That is both ‘man’ and ‘his power’ are dependent existentially on ‘woman’, on that the existence / presence of ‘woman’ is continually rendered visible and clear. What the second and third wave feminist movement and especially the feminist intervention into the vernaculars of European societies ultimately yielded was exactly this: the accentuation and fortification of the ‘woman’ through its reduplication in almost all socially relevant semiotic systems. The feminist linguistic gadgetry constitutes nothing but another tool of visualisation

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of ‘woman’, that is just another gender-ascription-mechanism just to the liking of the phallic dichotomy. This feminist intervention doesn’t reject the phallogenic dichotomy, it does not modify it, it does not suggest an alternative model. On the contrary it departs from it and it submits itself to it. It legitimises the primary distinguishing feature [+phallus or −phallus] and help phallocracy to equip itself with the appearance of an authorised, permissible hegemony. The enterprise to fight or to resist against the phallocracy as a ‘woman’, that is by dint of female or feminist self-assertion is comparable with the one which common parlance maintains to describe with the saying ‘add fuel to the fire’. A human being is, as a rule, something which is externally declared to be so by those animate phenomena which themselves are heteronomously declared to be humans. A man is a humanoid who — on account of a small set of external traits — is thought to be furnished with a phallus. The rest of the entire complex of genderphenomena and institutions emerge as derivatives of this assumption.

References Butler, Judith P. Gender trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. London: Routledge, 1999 Gilchrist, Roberta. Gender and archaeology: Contesting the past. London, New York: Routledge, 1999. Gülbeyaz, Abdurrahman. “Musicalization of Language as a mode of social memory construction and as a strategy of self-preservation of the oppressed.” In Liccosec, vol. 12 Languages and Memories. Osaka: Research Institut for World Languages, Osaka University. Vol. 12:73–82. Osaka, 2009. Gülbeyaz, Abdurrahman. “Küresel-Toplumsal Dönüşüm Süreçleri ve Dillerin Devinimi,” In V. Uluslar arası Büyük Türk Dili Kurultayı Bildirileri, edited by Zülfikar, Hamza; Özyürek, Rasim, 343–353. Ankara: Bilkent Üniversitesi Yayınları, 2010. Gülbeyaz, Abdurrahman. “Ungenierte Meditationen über Zeichentheorie mit Schwerpunkt auf Komplexen Zeichenprozessen”. Journal of the Research Institute for World Languages No. 6. 159- 173. Osaka, 2011. Gülbeyaz, Abdurrahman. “A New Approach to Language Acquisition and Learning: Beyond Skinner and Chomsky.” In ICT for Language Learning, Conference Proceedings 2012. Libreriauniversitaria.it Edizioni, 2012. Gülbeyaz, Abdurrahman. “Meaning in Language and Music: Sign and Slaughter.” Osaka: Matsumotokobo, 2016. Hobsbawm, E. J. The Age of Capital 1848–1875. London: Abacus A Division of Little, Brown and Company, 1995.

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Humm, Maggie. “The Dictionary of Feminist Theory.” Second Edition, London: Prentice Hall/Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1995. Lacan, Jacques. Écrits: the first complete edition in English. Translated by Bruce Fink in collaboration with Héloïse Fink and Russell Grigg. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1901. Scott, Joan Wallach. “Gender as a Useful Category of Historical Analysis,” In Culture, Society and Sexuality, a Reader, edited by Aggleton, Peter and Parker, Richard. Oxon, New York: Routledge, 2007.

Barbara Kellner-Heinkele

Women in Abu l-Ghazi Bahadur Khan’s Shajara-i Turk Introduction In 2001 the central theme of the 44th Annual Meeting of the PIAC — “The role of women in the Altaic world” — generated a large number of stimulating papers.1 At this meeting I discussed the stories about women that Abu l-Ghazi Bahadur Khan, khan of Khiva (reigned 1643–1663),2 narrates in his work Shajara-i Tarakima (“The Genealogical Tree of the Türkmen”).3 This work contains 13 sometimes long, sometimes short stories dealing with women. Some of the stories are mythical, others are more realistic in tone, but all of them are limited in their historical content. Most of the stories Abu l-Ghazi wove into his text (comprising 40 folios) had to do with women of objectionable conduct, but judging from the length of a given story and the style in which it was told, the khan clearly relished narrating it. This goes very well with the character of the Shajara-i Tarakima, which, even if the work can be used as a source for the history of the Türkmen tribes,4 is clearly more a document of Türkmen lore, meant to entertain and uplift an illiterate or not very learned Türkmen audience. The central theme of the 56th Annual Meeting of the PIAC at Kocaeli University in Izmit/Turkey (2013) — “Expressions of gender in the Altaic world” — underlined, on the one hand, the discursive change that has taken place with regard to Gender Studies since the 44th Meeting,5 and prompted, on the other, a number of colleagues

1 The papers were published by Veronika Veit, The Role of Women in the Altaic World. Permanent International Altaistic Conference 44th Meeting, Walberberg, 26–31 August 2001. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2007. 2 On Abu l-Ghazi and his work see Hofman, Turkish Literature, 11–31; Bregel, “Uzbeks,” 221–234 passim; on Abu l-Ghazi as seen by a Khivan historian of the 19th century, see Firdaws al-Iqbal (transl.) (henceforth abbreviated as FIT ), 42–47, 93; for the historical background, see Bregel, “Uzbeks,” McChesney, “Chinggisid Restoration,” Paul, Zentralasien, 207–286, Soucek, Inner Asia, 103–166, 177–193 and the relevant chapters in History of Civilizations of Central Asia, vol. IV, part 1 and vol. V, e. g. Annanepesov, “Khanates of Khiva”. 3 Kellner-Heinkele, “Abu l-Ghazi,” 109–121. For an edition and Turkish translation of the Shajara-i Tarakima, see: Ebulgazi Bahadır Han. Şecere-i Terākime (Türkmenlerin soykütüğü). Haz.: Zuhal Kargı Ölmez. Ankara 1996, henceforth abbreviated as ShaTa. 4 Cf. Bregel, “Uzbeks,” 229–236. 5 Gender Studies, understood differently in different countries, academic traditions and disciplines, can basically be comprehended as the study of the relationship of gender — men and women — to Barbara Kellner-Heinkele, Freie Universität Berlin https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-011

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to revisit texts in the light of the new or continuing discourse. The topic encouraged me to turn again to Abu l-Ghazi, the author, but now to his larger and more famous work, the Shajara-i Turk (“Genealogical Tree of the Turks”)6 with questions such as: Which kind of women did the khan mention; what did he have to say about women in this work, and how did he say it? In what contexts did he mention women, and which roles did he attribute to them? In what relationship to men do they appear? The perusal of the text showed that the author mentions a single woman or groups of women in many places, but in most cases only briefly and just generically as “women”. This is not surprising, because the ShaTu is basically a work on men and their actions in history as representatives of a dynasty, the Chinggisids. But since the current concepts of gender discuss — however controversially — women and men in their social and cultural roles and relationships alike, it is worthwhile to have a look at these ever so short passages. They deal with women and are found in a text such as the ShaTu which mirrors the rise and fall of dynastic men and their kin.

The work and its material on women In the following, the results of the search for any mention of women in Abu l-Ghazi’s Shajara-i Turk (ShaTu) will first be presented descriptively. The material lends itself to three basic categories: “Good” women — “neutral” women — “bad” women, in other words, women who Abu l-Ghazi presents in a positive light, indifferently, or negatively. Next, an effort will be made to make sense of some of these passages on women. And, finally, some reflections on the spirit in which Abu l-Ghazi wrote his text will be presented. The text contains a small number of references to women who are clearly perceived as women of high status, or having a good character and a positive impact. A few others single out a woman with a negative disposition or adverse influence. The women that strike the reader as presented in a neutral way, i. e. who have no distinctive mark or are mentioned generically, constitute the largest number of cases and usually appear just as groups of women. On the whole, women remain in the back-

history, society and culture. At the 2013 meeting, most papers dealt primarily with women or forms of the female, presumably due to the dearth of studies on these subjects, as opposed to those on men. 6 Abu l-Ghazi died before he was able to finish the book, but his son Anusha Khan completed it in 1076/1665. Edition and French translation by Petr I. Desmaisons, Histoire des Mongols et des Tatares par Aboul-Ghâzi Béhadour Khân Souverain de Kharezm et historien Djaghataï 1603–1664 A. D. I–II. St. Petersburg 1871–1874 (reprint: St. Leonards — Amsterdam 1970), henceforth abbreviated as ShaTu. Today, this edition and translation is considered a bit worn out, deserving of a replacement. On the ShaTu, see also Hofman, Turkish Literature, 17–18. Munis, the author of the earlier part of Firdaws alIqbal, made good use of the Shajara-i Turk, see Firdaws al-Iqbal (transl.), 40–47 with comprehensive notes.

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ground of the Shajara-i Turk text, i. e. they are not central to the author’s argument in spite of the fact that questions of dynastic cohesion constitute his main concern. Rather, he seems driven by his conviction that it is men who make history and that their womenfolk constitute, or perhaps furnish, social and material capital. This fact reminds us again that Abu l-Ghazi’s Shajara-i Turk is less a history of the Mongols and Turks in general than a survey of the dynastic relations of the Chinggisids and their ramifications. Although it sums up the history of the Mongols and Turks to a certain extent, its intention is to promote a personal agenda: the author wants to reveal for the sake of posterity the preeminence and legitimacy of his own family. He traces the genealogy from Adam down to Chinggis Khan and from there down to his immediate family and his own person. Writing with this intention appropriately includes passages of legendary narration and real events, but its first concern is genealogically sound information.7 The first fifth of the book, Chapter I–II8 — from Adam down to Chinggis Khan — is largely legendary. It includes the story of Oghuz Khan, narrated in more or less the same words as in the Shajara-i Tarakima and sharing many elements with the Oghuzname as told in the Jamiʿ al-Tawarikh of Rashid al-Din.9 Chapters III–VIII are devoted to Chinggis Khan and his descendants (ShaTu, 73–193), while the ninth and last chapter presents the dynastic history of the descendants of Shiban Khan, Chinggis Khan’s grandson, in Khorezm (Khwarezm), Transoxania and Khorasan, but in particular that of Abu l-Ghazi’s own family branch and finally his own biography (ShaTu, 194–358). Chapter IX thus forms nearly half of the book. This genealogical survey of the Chinggisids over almost 400 years is written straight-forwardly and concisely. It is organized along horizontal and vertical family lines and is therefore sometimes confusing. It lacks dates almost completely. The text assumes a vivid and colorful style only when it comes to Abu l-Ghazi’s memories of

7 Abu l-Ghazi explains this intention in the following way: I had in mind (könglimizde) to write in a big book the history of the great rulers (padishahlar) who reigned among the Mongols and Uzbeks, and of the beks who formed their councils (kengeshli), their origins, their deeds and their words, all in detail. But I fell ill [...] I am the only one who knows [the history of these rulers] and in particular that of our own family (cama’at) from Yadigar Khan down to myself. Nobody in the foreign countries (yat yurt), nor among our own people (öz khalqïmïzda) knows this. […] [For the events that took place] from Adam to Jöchi Khan I looked sometimes at the ancient histories, sometimes not, because I know all from memory. But from Shiban Khan to myself, I did not look at any book, because I have it all in my memory. But my brain became weaker (kem bolub) [...] therefore I abbreviated it (mukhtasar qïldïm) […] (ShaTu, 77–78/ed. 72). In his introduction Abu l-Ghazi says he had 18 history books on the Chinggisids at his disposal (ShaTu, 2). 8 ShaTu, 5–72 of the translation; since the page numbers of the translation are given on the corresponding pages of the edition and vice versa, only the former are given when citing the source. 9 See the passage on Oghuz Khan in ShaTa, fol. 70 b-79 a; cf. Jahn, Die Geschichte, 18–44.

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his immediate family, i. e. to the events in his father’s lifetime and those of his own adventurous life (end of Chap. IX, 294–343). In this latter passage we can speak with some justification of an autobiographical text. However, one needs to keep in mind, that Abu l-Ghazi left out of his self-narrative some events he was not too proud of, which means that he does not inform us about what he did or where he exactly was during whole spans of his lifetime before he became khan of Khiva in 1643/44. The spirit of a devout Muslim permeates the text, in spite of the bloodshed and the armed disputes with relatives that dominate the narrative. Though in the introduction to the ShaTa Abu l-Ghazi confesses bitter regret for his brutal treatment of the Turkmen tribes,10 he seems to consider the killing of rival relatives and other opponents as inevitable.

Women considered in a positive light When we read the text of the Shajara-i Turk in the light of its structure and spirit, we see that the “good” — i. e. important, respectable and even revered women — are, first of all, the women who belong to steppe mythology or Muslim legend and, secondly, those who are important in Chinggisid history. The text is organized more or less chronologically. Although Havva/Eve is not mentioned along with Adam (ShaTu, 6), Noah’s wife and his three daughters-in-law are cited among the godfearing believers who survived the fatal illness that befell the survivors of the Great Flood (ShaTu, 8).11 Next, Oghuz Khan’s mother is shown in a very positive light, because she became a crypto-Muslim on the demand of her infant son Oghuz (ShaTu, 13).12 A “good” woman is also Oghuz Khan’s third wife who secretly became a Muslim, too, and helped him to foil the deadly plot which his idolatrous father Qara Khan hedged against him (ShaTu, 14–15).13 We also encounter in this text the legitimate wives of Oghuz Khan’s famous six sons, while many more sons are simply attributed to innumerable concubines. Each of the six sons had again four sons born from legitimate wives, but only the male family members are actually named (ShaTu, 26–27).14 Later in the text, we learn that two of the descendants of Oghuz Khan take refuge with their wives in the

10 ShaTa, fol. 65 a; translation in Levi and Sela, Islamic Central Asia, 228–229. Abu l-Ghazi composed the ShaTa in 1071/1660, i. e. before the ShaTu. On the khan’s campaigns against the Turkmen see FIT, 45–47, 93. 11 This and other motifs belong to the treasure of Islamic legends (qisas al-anbiya’) popular to this day, cf. e.g. the Central Asian collection of the early 14th century by al-Rabghuzi. The episode can be found in the edition, p. 55/f. 27r, lines 12–15, transl. p. 67. 12 Cf. Jahn, Die Geschichte, 18. 13 Jahn, Die Geschichte, 18–19. 14 No wives or concubines are mentioned by Rashid al-Din, cf. Jahn, Die Geschichte, 45–47.

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Ergenekon valley, where they multiply and finally leave Ergenekon for reasons of overpopulation (ShaTu, 31–33, 63).15 So far, not one woman in the text has been mentioned by her name. This changes with the next period (end of Chapt. II, Chapt. III), when the text passes on from the mythical women of the pre-Chinggisid era to the real women of the early history of Chinggis. A longer passage is devoted to the famous Alan-Qo’a, the mythical ancestress of Chinggis Khan (reigned 1206–1227) and, according to Abu l-Ghazi, the granddaughter of a certain Yulduz Khan of the post-Ergenekon period (ShaTu, 64–66, 72, 74). (It is obvious that Abu l-Ghazi is not referring here to Oghuz Khan’s third son.) In a later passage in the text, Abu l-Ghazi gives the full genealogy of his father up to Alan-Qo’a (ShaTu, 314). In other words, the break between legendary and real history occurs at the point in the Shajara-i Turk where the author sets the stage for the advent of the Chinggisids by listing the various tribes and peoples populating the steppe at the time of the rise of Chinggis Khan (ShaTu, 37–63).16 Abu l-Ghazi creates a somewhat mixed picture in tracing the Turks and Mongols down from Adam and, without much ado, channeling their fate into the dynastic network of Chinggisid families that are all related in some way or other with Abu l-Ghazi’s own genealogy. The questions: Who is a Turk? Who is a Mongol? seem less important to him. His focus is on the Turkicspeaking Islamic world of Khorezm and Transoxania. Legitimacy of rule is the only thing that counts. After the legendary Alan-Qo’a, the next woman our author introduces (except for Terken Khatun, see below) is Chinggis Khan’s mother Hö’elün, who is otherwise well documented in the Secret History of the Mongols and whose unenviable fate as a poor widow with unruly children and a brave attitude vis-à-vis the enemies of her clan is told in some detail (ShaTu, 53, 55–56, 77, 82; Rashid al-Din/Thackston, 134, 144, 159– 160). Some attention is also given to Börte, Chinggis Khan’s first and principal wife, whose pregnancy with Jöchi (d. 1227) Abu l-Ghazi links with determination to Chinggis (ShaTu, 53, 100, 177; Rashid al-Din/Thackston, 146–148).17 After Börte four other ladies are also identified by name and family background.18 These were the ones who occupied the highest rank among Chinggis Khan’s 500 wives and concubines — as our author reports. However, the list differs from Rashid al-Din’s list of the principal wives of Chinggis (Rashid al-Din/Thackston, 146–149). As second wife, the khan lists “Kound-

15 On the legend of Ergenekon, see “ärgänä-qun” in Rashid al-Din/Thackston, 79–80, also 25, 26, 84, 102. 16 This corresponds to a similar passage in Rashid al-Din’s work, see transl. Thackston, 114–118. 17 In passing over the well-known dispute over Chinggis’ paternity regarding Jöchi, Abu l-Ghazi adopts the tradition that goes back to Chinggis Khan himself. For Rashid al-Din’s composed dealing with Jöchi see Thackston, 347–348. 18 On Chinggis Khan and his taste for women, see Steiner, “In bed with Genghis Khan,” 65–80 with further literature.

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jou”, daughter of Altan Khan, the ruler of Kitay (ShaTu, 97, 100),19 as third “Kouï-sou”, widow of Tayang Khan of the Naiman (ShaTu, 100),20 and the sisters “Missouloun”21 and “Yssoukâne” (Yesügen)22 from the Tatars (ShaTu, 100). Abu l-Ghazi also mentions that “Boukai” (Bükey), the beautiful daughter of the chief of the “Nekrin or Mekrin” tribe, was offered to Chinggis as a sign of peace (ShaTu, 42).23 Some of Chinggis Khan’s sons are also credited with prominent wives who are given a name: Ögedei (reigned 1229–1241) e.g., who according to Abu l-Ghazi had four principal wives and 60 concubines, also had an ugly second wife from the Merkit, “Tourâkine” (Töregene),24 but Ögedei considered her beautiful, as Abu l-Ghazi mentions in passing (ShaTu, 151–152). The eldest of her five sons from Ögedei was Güyük (reigned 1246–1248) who had three sons from his wife “Qamish” (ShaTu, 152) who on the death of Güyük became regent of the empire (1248–1251).25 Ögedei’s youngest brother Tolui (d. 1232) had a son called Möngke (reigned 1251–1259) from his wife “Sourqouqti Bigui” of the Tatars (Sorqaqtani Beki) who — as the Shajara-i Turk says — was much loved by the people (ShaTu, 45, 153).26 Among Chaghatai Khan’s (d. 1242) numerous wives and concubines only two sisters from the prominent Qongrat tribe are actually named: “Yssouloun” (Yesülün) and “Tourkân-Khatun” (Tögen) (ShaTu, 157).27 It should be noted here that already in the period of Abu l-Ghazi the Qongrat

19 For the title Tagai-Quncui, see Rybatzki, “Female Personal Names,” 217–218, s. v. “Taqai”. In Rashid al-Din/Thackston, 148 and Footnote 4, Gungju figures as fourth wife. 20 Cf. “Gürbäsü Khatun” a lesser wife, according to Rashid al-Din/Thackston, 149. 21 Meant is probably Yisüi, cf. Rybatzki, “Female Personal Names,” 224: “Yisüi-Qatun, another daughter of Yeke-Ceren of the Tatar; elder sister of Yesügen; one of the four wives of Cingghis-Qan.” Rashid al-Din/Thackston, 148 calls her Yesülün, Chinggis’ fifth wife. 22 Rybatzki, “Female Personal Names,” 224: “one of the four wives of Cingghis-Qan.” According to Rashid al-Din/Thackston, 148 she was Chinggis’ third wife. 23 This lady is not mentioned in Rybatzki’s list of female personal names. According to Rashid al-Din she was “Mögä Khatun” of the “Bäkrin” or “Mäkrin nation” (Thackston, 76–77). Abu l-Ghazi remarks in this context that this tribe kept aloof from both the Mongols and Uighurs. According to the manuscripts used by Ölmez, Şecere-i Türk, 40.20, 41.6, the tribe’s name was Tekrin or Mekrin. 24 Here also Ögedei’s wives “Bouraqtchine”, “Moungha” and “Hatchine” are mentioned. This ugly wife from the Merkit is without doubt the famous Töregene who acted as regent of the empire until her son Güyük was enthroned, cf. Rybatzky, “Female personal Names,” 219 s.v. “Döregene”; Sinor, “Some Observations,” 263; History of Civilizations VI/1, 262–263. Rashid al-Din mentions that Ögedei had many wives and 60 concubines. Töregene is listed as his second wife, see Rashid al-Din/Thackston, 303–304, but as his first wife, ibid., 389. 25 This is Oghul Qaimish who was executed on the accession to the throne of Möngke (reigned 1251–1259), see Sinor, “Some Observations,” 263. Rashid al-Din/Thackston, 304–305, 308 lists Oghul Qaimish Khatun, although the “chief of them all” [wives] only as the mother of two of his sons. 26 On Sorqaqtani Beki see Rybatzki, “Female Personal Names,” 224; Sinor, “Some Observations,” 263–264; Rashid al-Din/Thackston, 381–382, 386–387, 391–395, 401–403. For other very powerful women of early Mongol history see Hambly, “Becoming Visible,” 13–18. 27 The orthography in the ShaTu edition (p. 149) rather suggests the form “Terken.” For a similar story of two sisters, wives of Chinggis Khan, see ShaTu, 100 and above; Rashid al-Din/Thackston, 367, 368

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tribe played an important role in the politics of Khorezm/Khiva. But about 140 years after Abu l-Ghazi’s death, the Qongrats had pushed the Chinggisids from the throne of Khiva and founded their own dynasty that was to rule with some success until the Russian conquest in 1873.28 After Chaghatai’s descendants, Abu l-Ghazi’s systematic dynastic narrative of the descendants of Chinggis Khan passes on to the house of Shiban (the fifth son of Jöchi), who eventually became the ancestor of Abu l-Ghazi. Here we need to give some attention to the details as Abu l-Ghazi presents them: Timur Sheykh Khan, an eighth generation descendant of Shiban Khan, had no sons when he died. But one of his wives was pregnant with Yadigar (who would become khan of most of the Uzbeks in 1457/58) whom Abu l-Ghazi considers the direct ancestor of the khans of Khiva of the Arabshahid line, i. e. his line, the one which was in power from 1511 to the end of the 17th century (ShaTu, 194–195).29 Abu l-Ghazi also devotes a genealogically prominent place to his own mother Mihri-banu Khanïm, who, like his father Arab Muhammad Khan (reigned 1602/03– 1621)30 descended from Yadigar Khan, the ancestor of the Khorezmian Chinggisids (ShaTu, 298, 315). Arab Muhammad Khan also told his son that Mihribanu Khanïm descended from the Yadigarid family branch known under the name of Ghazi — which was one of the reasons why our author was named Abu l-Ghazi (ShaTu, 313). Mihribanu Khanïm died when her only son Abu l-Ghazi was still a boy of six. Abu l-Ghazi himself was married at the age of 16 and was placed in Urgench where he was to share the governorship with his older half-brother Habash (ShaTu, 315). Abu l-Ghazi says nothing about his first wife’s family. Nor does he mention any wives, nor his children, not even his son Anusha Khan who succeeded him (ShaTu, 343, 355).31 However, considering the fact that the khan lived in neighbouring countries such as Samarkand, Iran and among the Kazakhs, Turkmen and Qalmuqs for years on end (ShaTu, 317–338, FIT, 44), it cannot be excluded that Abu l-Ghazi was a man of many households. We can suggest from studying the women who were positively connotated in Abu l-Ghazi’s Shajara-i Turk that the closer a woman’s relationship to Chinggis Khan, the higher was her personal prestige. Similarly, the higher the status of a given woman, the more likely this author will name her by name. Some are also singled out in a positive mentions Yesülün as mother of Chaghatai’s second son, and ibid. 367, 372 “Tögän Khatun”, mother of his seventh son. 28 See Bregel, “New Uzbek States,” 392–405; Bregel, “Central Asia,” 193–200. 29 Cf. genealogy of Arab Khan, Abu l-Ghazi’s father (ShaTu, 310, 313). See also the genealogical tree added by Desmaisons and another one in FIT, appendix. On the Arabshahids/Yadigharids (Yadigarids), see Bregel, “Uzbeks,” 224, 227; Bregel, Historical Atlas, maps 22–28 and text; von Kügelgen, Legitimierung, 36, 59. The story of the posthumus Yadigar b. Timur Sheykh is also reported in FIT, 25–26. For the historical context see McChesney, “Chinggisid Restoration,” 277–282, 291–302. 30 For a short description of his rule, see FIT, 39–40. 31 On Anusha Muhammad Khan (reigned 1663–1685), see FIT, 47–49 and Kochnev, “Relations,” 160– 164; for the context, see McChesney, “Chinggisid Restoration,” 301; Bregel, “Uzbek States,” 392.

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way if they were beautiful or clever or came from an influential family that supported the Chinggisids. Early sources of Mongol-Turkic history such as Rashid al-Din’s Jamiʿ al-Tawarikh display this phenomenon more in detail and probably set the example for later historians. Abu l-Ghazi must have made use of the Jamiʿ al-Tawarikh in a direct or indirect way. But since his text also differs from this work in many ways, he must have followed — in addition to his memory — other written or oral traditions as well (see footnote 7).

Women with a neutral connotation Most of the women in Abu l-Ghazi’s Shajara-i Turk who were given an ethically neutral connotation could be put in a basket labeled “Useful in Some Way or Other”. This would coincide with the discrete manner Islamic (and other) sources of the premodern period usually dealt with women. The main subdivisions in this category of “useful” are what could be called “women as pawns of peace” on the one hand, and “women as pawns in war” on the other. All of the examples are found in the section dealing with the Chinggisids and in subsequent chapters. An example of a “pawn of peace” or guarantor of peaceful intentions can be seen in the story in which Arslan Khan of the Qarluq offers his (here, unnamed) daughter to Chinggis Khan who reciprocates with a princess from his own family (ShaTu, 38).32 Similar arrangements with Chinggis Khan regarding the Oirats and the Uighurs are also reported (ShaTu, 46, 94, 97). The custom of exchanging dynastic women as guarantors of a recent peace treaty and of loyalty is known in the steppe since times immemorial and also in the relations between the steppe and the sown, such as in the case of the Türks and Uighurs with the Chinese.33 Other cases in this text are concerned with convenient (“useful”) marriages that legitimize the prince in power, e. g. when the Chobanid Hasan-i Kuchak (d. 1343) puts Sati Bek Khatun, the daughter of the Ilkhanid khan Öljeitü (reigned 1304–1316) and sister of Abu Said, the last Ilkhan (reigned 1316–1335) on the throne of Iran, then the next year replaces Sati Bek Khatun by Sulayman, great-great-grandson of Hülegü (reigned 1256–1265), and gives him Sati Bek in marriage (ShaTu, 175–176).34 Another of Abu l-Ghazi’s stories on women who served as bonds between different sovereigns concerns the last powerful Timurid ruler Abu Said Mirza, one of Emir Temür’s great-grandsons (reigned in Transoxania 1452–1467), who killed his rel-

32 On the important role of Chinggis’ daughter Alaqa, see Rybatzki, “Female Personal Names,” 213. 33 Cf. Sinor, “Establishment,” 301, 307, 313; Sinor, “Uighurs,” 321, 325–326; for the history of one Chinese princess among the Uighurs, see Drompp, “Qatun.” 34 On Hasan-i Kuchak and his rule, see Savory, “Čūbānids,” 68; Spuler, Die Mongolen, 132–133. Sati Bek Khatun reigned in 1338–9, Sulayman from 1339–1343. Sati Bek’s passive role as a regent is analyzed in detail by Quade-Reutter, 372–390:Verstand.

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ative Abd al-Latif Mirza (reigned 1449–1450). Terrified by Abu Said, Abd al-Latif’s son Muhammad Juki Mirza took refuge with the Jöchid Abu l-Khair Khan (reigned 1428– 1468), whose wife was a sister of Abd al-Latif, i. e. Muhammad Juki’s paternal aunt (ShaTu, 197–198). With the arrival of Muhammad Juki a stormy relationship began between these particular branches of the Jöchid and Timurid families.35 There are far more instances in this text of “women as pawns in times of war”. In particular, dynastic women who play this role (ShaTu, 61–62, 87, 220, 238, 267, 339). This type is common enough. Thus, a number of cases in Abu l-Ghazi’s text tell how a victorious khan captures the wives and children of a defeated prince and immediately puts the royal women into his own harem — a transaction we regularly encounter also in many other source texts, e.g. in the Baburname and Mirza Haydar Dughlat’s Tarikh-i Rashidi.36 In one case, the Mongols capture the Khwarezm Shah Ala’ al-Din Muhammad’s (reigned 1200–1220) mother, wives and children when storming the shah’s fortress of “Qarandar” (ShaTu, 127–129).37 Abu l-Ghazi concludes the story by saying that the Khwarezm Shah immediately died when he heared the news of his loss. Another example deals with Muhammad Shibani Khan (b. 1451, reigned 1501– 1510), grand-son of Abu l-Khair Khan (d. 1468) and founder of the Shibanid dynastic family in Transoxania. Some time after Shibani had killed his relative “Berke” Sultan (Burge: cf. FIT, 26) who was the son of Yadigar Khan, Burge’s wife Malai Khanzade fell to the harem of Khwaja Muhammad Sultan, Shibani Khan’s paternal uncle. It had been Burge who had murdered this woman’s father! At this time, she was pregnant by Burge with a son, but according to Abu l-Ghazi she kept this to herself. This son was the future Janibek, the grandfather of the famous Abdullah Khan of Bukhara (reigned 1556/1582–1598) (ShaTu, 202, 206). Abu l-Ghazi hints here at the cross relations of the two Jöchid family branches which were hostile to each other, one of which was his own, the Yadigarids, and the other that of the Abu l-Khayrids of Transoxania who had given his forefathers a lot of trouble.38 Another story deals with the wives of Sultan Ghazi Sultan who were abducted by the followers (nöker) of a rival relative, Aqatay Khan. This Sultan Ghazi Sultan was the maternal great-grandfather of Abu l-Ghazi, and the event took place in the course

35 Cf. Bregel, “Uzbeks,” 224; on the historical background see Manz, “Temür,” 191–194. 36 See e. g. Subtelny, “Bābur’s Rival Relations,” 107, 112. 37 Different from the translation, the edition, 120–121, shows Qarandiz or Qarindiz. Boyle, “Dynastic,” 309–311, mentions the mountain stronghold of Qārūn, probably near Hamadan, but, based on Juwaini, also reports that Muhammad’s family was captured in a castle in Mazandaran and that the shah died (1220 or 1221) out of grief over this loss. Rashid al-Din (Thackston, 250–252) similarly mentions the “Qarun” fortress as the place where the Khwarezm Shah placed his wives, mother and children, but then continues that the shah’s family and treasures were eventually captured in castles — it remains unclear whether in Mazandaran — and taken to Chinggis Khan. 38 Cf. McChesney, “Chinggisid restoration,” 295–299; von Kügelgen, Legitimierung, 39, 59, 60–61.

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of a day of conflict between the two family branches with wide-spread mayhem and pillage (ShaTu, 237). Much more frequent are the short references to “the young women and young boys” (kïzlar ve yigitler) from the urban and rural population who — as part of the loot or as hostages — are made slaves after the capture of a town or city such as in the conquests of Chinggis and the Chinggisids (ShaTu, 119, 135) and later of the Shibanids in Transoxania and Khorezm. Closer to Abu l-Ghazi’s own times, some examples are given which are connected to the frequent attacks on Turkmen auls, but even more references are made to internal strife among the Uzbek nobility and within Abu l-Ghazi’s own family (ShaTu, 222, 237, 310). The same is true for the practices prevailing in quarrels between Khiva and Bukhara rivals (ShaTu, 238, 267, 284) or in Kossack attacks during the reign of Arab Muhammad Khan, Abu l-Ghazi’s father (ShaTu, 298). Abu l-Ghazi himself was not squeamish either: Two cases of how he pillaged Turkmen auls and enslaved women and children are mentioned in that part of the work which Anusha Khan wrote after his father’s death (ShaTu, 344, 348). However, many more clashes with the Turkmen must have taken place as the khan himself admits in the Shajara-i Tarakima (ShaTa, fol. 65b, line 15–66a, line 14). At one point Abu l-Ghazi tells us that he was able to frighten the Uzbek clans into doing what he wanted them to do by telling them that the Qalmuqs would come and enslave their wives and children (ShaTu, 322). An interesting case of a “victim in war” is that of Abu l-Ghazi’s paternal greatgrandmother. Since one of the perennial political aims of the Khivan khans was to control the Turkmen tribal groups, attacks on their camps were frequent, especially when the tribute due from them was not forthcoming. During one of these expeditions, Abu l-Ghazi’s great-grandfather Aqatay Khan (reigned 1549–1556, cf. FIT, 34) captured a girl from the Göklen tribe and put her into his harem. She became the mother of Abu l-Ghazi’s grandfather Hajim (Hajji Muhammad) Khan — which means that Abu l-Ghazi had some Turkmen blood in his veins (ShaTu, 253, 271–272).39 A related story deals with a woman who is used as a decoy in setting up a trap for a certain Muhammad Ghazi Sultan (of Abu l-Ghazi’s maternal family branch) in the course of a family feud. The sultan’s young and beautiful sister was married to the elderly Avanesh Khan (reigned 1525/26–1539/40), the grandson of Yadigar Khan. The reckless Din Muhammad Sultan (eldest son of Avanesh Khan), harbouring some grudges against this Muhammad Ghazi Sultan, sends him a letter in the name of the latter’s sister pretending that she longed for her dear brother. This was a trap that eventually allowed Din Muhammad to kill his relative while he was visiting his sister in

39 Abu l-Ghazi refers to this Turkmen relationship when he reports that the Yomut, Ersari and Teke Turkmen helped Hajim Khan (reigned 1557/58–1602/03) and his sons and nephews to fight Abdullah Khan of Bukhara because they had recognized Hajim Khan’s and his brother Mahmud Sultan’s authority (ShaTu, 286). For Hajim Khan b. Aqatay Khan see also FIT, 36–39.

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the women’s quarters — with some gruesome family killings in the aftermath (ShaTu, 231–235).40

Women given a negative connotation Finally, let us have a look at the negative connotations Abu l-Ghazi attributes to particular women, as if he wanted to warn his readers that women are scheming and mischievous creatures. In this category, a certain Terken/Tergen Khatun, the powerful wife of the Khwarezm Shah Tekish (reigned 1172–1200) and influential mother of the Khwarezm Shah Ala’ al-Din Muhammad (reigned 1200–1220), would be the first to appear in the Shajara-i Turk (ShaTu, 37, 107).41 A princess of the Turkish Qanglï (or Qïpchaq) tribe, she is also credited by our author with the spread of Islam among her Qanglï relatives who followed her to serve the Khwarezm Shah. Abu l-Ghazi reports that Ala’ al-Din Muhammad suspected his mother Terken Khatun — who often persued her own politics — of a plot against him and had her alleged accomplice executed. This was one of the causes, our author comments, of the downfall of the Khwarezm Shah and his empire (ShaTu, 107).42 Another example Abu l-Ghazi tells at some length is the (historically verified) story about the wife of the Chobanid Hasan-i Kuchak (Hasan the Small), who had an affair with one of his relatives. When Hasan put this man into prison, the lady suspected that Hasan had discovered her affair. So one night, she killed her husband by crushing his genitals (ShaTu, 176).43 But women do not only act treacherously against men, they also tend to be nasty to each other. Abu l-Ghazi asserts that a childless first wife kicked the pregnant concubine of her husband in an unsuccessful attempt to make her miscarry. After giving birth, the hapless concubine hides the child in a bush. The child is saved and becomes the eponymous founder of the Suqut clan (ėl), a branch of the Barïn, closely related to the Dörben ėli (ShaTu, 59–60). The khan reports this story in the context of his survey of Turkic and Mongol tribes that were later to compose the population of Chinggis Khan’s empire. It does not become completely clear why Abu l-Ghazi considered it nec-

40 For this rather long story, see ShaTu, 228–235. FIT, 31–31 has the story only in an abridged version. 41 According to the Persian sources she is a historical figure, cf. Bosworth, “Tekish,” 415; id., “Terken Khatun,” 419; id., “Iranian World,” 191; Quade-Reutter, 24: Turkān Khātūn. 42 Cf. Golden, “Inner Asia,” 14–15. 43 This happened in Tabriz in 1343, cf. Savory, “Čūbānids,” 68. Spuler, Die Mongolen, 134 records the event, but not the details Abu l-Ghazi claims.

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essary to report this story. However, it effectively demonstrates that a concubine’s son was seen fit and entitled to head his own clan.44 In another case, the principal wife of Avanesh Khan (the brother of Abu l-Ghazi’s great-grandfather Aqatai Khan) (ShaTu, 228–245, also FIT, 31–33), the daughter of a Manghït mirza, treats Din Muhammad Sultan in a miserable way. The latter was the young son of a junior wife, who herself is “only” the daughter of a concubine of a Manghït mirza. Abu l-Ghazi reports that she herself said that she had been captured when her tribe was dispersed and was sold to the khan (ShaTu, 228–229). Whether it was this trauma of Din Muhammad Sultan’s childhood or his natural disposition, we do not learn, but when this Din Muhammad became a grown man, he committed unceasing murder and oppression, as our author complains (ShaTu, pp. 229–235). This story about Din Muhammad, a cousin of Abu l-Ghazi’s grand-father Hajim Khan, bears no genealogical consequences for Abu l-Ghazi’s family, although our author devotes ample space to it. We know, however, from the first episode dealing with Din Muhammad (mentioned above) that he had murdered members of Abu l-Ghazi’s maternal family (ShaTu, 228–235). It also verifies that the Mongol tradition which gave the education of children of junior wives into the hands of senior wives was still alive among the Yadigarids in the late 16th century.45 Another story about a scheming woman, that Abu l-Ghazi tells with some relish, deals with a dancing girl (Pers. luli)46 in Marv who had a young boy, but, ostensibly, no father for him. One day, she stood up among the beks and told them that the boy was a souvenir of a night she had spent with the Yadigarid ruler of Marw, Abu l-Muhammad Khan (FIT, 36), the son of the above-mentioned vicious Din Muhammad. Out of fear of the khan’s principal wife (khanïm), she had kept the adventure a secret, she asserted. Sick and still mourning the death of his only son, the khan eventually acknowledged the boy as his illegitimate son and called him Nur Muhammad (“Light of Muhammad”). We note here a number of things: the nerve of the dancer, the opportunism of the beks, and the dispair of the khan who would rather admit to a questionable adventure than to renounce the slim chance of bequesting his khanship to an heir. This Nur Muhammad — a contemporary of Abu l-Ghazi’s grandfather Hajim Khan and involved in this khan’s territorial wars with Abdallah of Bukhara (FIT, 38) — had no progeny and died in exile in Iran (ShaTu, 258). Since the luli-story is otherwise of no obvious consequence in Abu l-Ghazi’s text and does not figure in the Firdaws al-Iqbal, we

44 Ölmez, Şecere-i Türk, fol. 53.1–10 has Dörmen, Barïn and Suqut; Rashid al-Din/Thackston, 104– 105, reports the story in a similar way, but gives the names as “Dörbän”, “Ba’arin” and “Suqai’ut”. A similar story concerns the Chaghataid Esen-Boqa Khan’s (reigned c. 1309/10–1319/20, son of Dua Khan) jealous first wife Satïlmïsh Khatun who wielded absolute power over her husband’s other wives, see ShaTu, 165–166; the story is told in more detail in Tarikh-i Rashidi, 6–8; cf. Biran, “Ögödeid,” 56.) 45 For this tradition as practised under the Timurids, see Manz, “Women in Timurid Dynastic Politics,” 126; Soucek “Timurid Women,” 202–205. 46 On luli — “one of the names for gypsies in Persia” see Minorsky — Ellwell-Sutton, “Lūlī.”

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may assume that he told it for no other reason than that he thought it an entertaining family anecdote, telltale for the tricks of women. However, if we take the plot a step further, it might also be suggested that Abu l-Ghazi wanted to emphasise that false claims to dynastic recognition will end in disaster. The hint that Nur Muhammad died miserably in exile in Iran might also carry the following implied message: An impostor is likely to be weak in his faith and might seek refuge with the Shiite Persians if his countrymen no longer support him. But there is also a slight irony in this passage: A number of Yadigarids — among them Arab Muhammad Khan, Abu l-Ghazi’s father — took refuge with the Shah when defeat drove them from Khorezm. Abu l-Ghazi himself spent more than ten years in exile at the Safavid court of Tabriz, though he treats this period of his life only very briefly. Basically, we learn from this particular autobiographical passage in the Shajara-i Turk only that he stayed in Tabriz and how he eventually managed with some tricks to flee to his home country, Khorezm (ShaTu, 336). Or do we have to see in the luli story another proof of Abu l-Ghazi’s intense insistence on Chinggisid legitimacy? He himself survived the Iranian ordeal, ergo, he was meant by fate to succeed and gain the throne?

Conclusion: A comparison In his Shajara-i Turk, Abu l-Ghazi mentions a woman or women almost 100 times. In the majority of cases the women have no name, since the author — so it seems — considers them sufficiently characterized by the terms “wife, concubine, mother, sister or daughter of so and so”, or of “such and such tribal group”. With a few exceptions — e.g. when he tells a story about women in a few lines — the khan’s remarks on women are short or made in passing. This contrasts starkly with the distinctive and sometimes even candidly personal passages on women that Babur, a good example for comparison, has to offer in his autobiographical Baburname. Some of the passages in the latter are even quite long and can be read as biographical miniatures, especially when Babur deals with female relatives who had an impressive character — such as his grandmother. He respected and even admired these women for their intelligence and energy. Others he critizes with some eloquence.47 Quite similar to Abu l-Ghazi, Babur — presumably out of respect and traditional sentiment — generally allocates to women their place in society as mothers and virtuous and docile wives. Daughters and sisters from noble families had to be prepared to play their role when men forged alliances and strengthened power positions and loyalties, even to the point where they had to sacrifice themselves for the family cause or suffer the fate of being a “pawn in war”. For both authors, females had to fulfil their roles in accordance with the social traditions of the time and the region.

47 Cf. Schönig, “Frauen”, 232–235.

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However, we should be alerted to a structural difference between the two works. In the Baburname, female characters appear mostly in the biographical portraits that Babur writes for the male members of his extended family, close to his lifetime. Mothers, wives, concubines, sisters and daughters are then systematically assigned to each of the men portrayed, i. e. Babur knew many of them quite well.48 Abu l-Ghazi’s references to women are more impressionistic, occur in a variety of contexts and range over several centuries. Other differences between the two works lie in the literary quality and the motivation for writing. Babur’s intention was to put into words the events, dreams and feelings of his own life and to give his view of the times and the world around him. He writes in a refined but unpretentious way.49 Abu l-Ghazi’s motivation was much more modest, i. e. he wanted to write a genealogical compendium of his own dynasty, and his work spans a much longer time period. Although he was remarkably learned in comparison with his Khivan contemporaries, particularly in the field of history, and knew several languages,50 his works Shajara-i Turk and Shajara-i Tarakima are plain in style and limited in information. Their value lies in the rarity of historical works preserved from that time and that region, and in the insider information that cannot be found elsewhere.51 Looking at the general ignorance around him (ShaTu, 2, 77–78; ShaTa, fol. 65b, line 9–14) both among the Uzbeks and the Turkmen, Abu l-Ghazi wanted to preserve what he knew about the past (see footnote 7) which included mythical history as well as the history of the Islamic sphere of Persia and Central Asia coming down from the time of the Khwarezmshahs and the Mongol conquests. Names of famous women form part of this traditional historical knowledge. But of particular concern for our author was that which had to do with his own family of which he was obviously very proud. While chronologically meandering through the complicated family relations, generation by generation, lineage by lineage, the text betrays a single goal: to show an uninterrupted dynastic line from Adam through Chinggis Khan to his own person. If we remember that Abu l-Ghazi fought incessantly with contestants of other branches of his family as well as with the noble Uzbek clans in Khorezm, Transoxania and Khorasan to claim rulership and territory he considered his patrimony, we understand how important legitimacy was for him. He understood legitimacy as being established through blood, valour in war and success in kingship. In light of this historical rootedness of Chinggisid legitimacy we also understand why Munis and Agahi, the Khivan historians of the 19th century,52 were so eager to extol

48 Schönig, “Frauen,” 235–241. 49 For his literary views and claims, cf. Schönig, “Literaturkritiker”; for the exceptional literary value of his work see Eckmann, “Literatur,” 370–374. In his “Steppe Humanism” Dale discusses in detail the significance of the Baburname in premodern Islamic literature. 50 He mentions in particular Arabic, Persian and Türki, but might have picked up some more linguistic knowledge among the Kazakhs and Qalmuqs (ShaTu, 2; FIT, 44). 51 Cf. Bregel, “Uzbeks,” 221–234. 52 On the life and work of Munis and Agahi see Bregel’s introduction to the translation of FI, XV–L.

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the legitimacy of the non-Chinggisid Uzbek clansmen of the Qongrat who swept the Chinggisid Arabshahids of Khiva from the throne by the last quarter of the 18th century (and officially in 1804).53 These court historians supported the cause of the new Qongrat dynasty by arguing that the up-start khans had proven their manly qualities and were reliable champions of Islam, suggesting that the Chinggisids had gambled away their right to rule as they proved to be worthless Muslims and unreliable sovereigns. Indeed, Abu l-Ghazi’s work is not always concerned with Islamic normative behaviour, even though we could say that the roles he might have conceded to women could possibly have fit into the traditional Islamic pattern. He seems to mention the famous women of mythical times and of the Chinggisid period to give them the exemplary recognition they deserved in the memory of the people. When approaching his own times (16th and 17th centuries), however, he records in the Shajara-i Turk mostly dynastic births and marriages, female victims of games men play, and here and there, an entertaining, even humourous anecdote decorated with an ambivalent female character such as in the story of the luli mother (ShaTu, 258). In conclusion, one of the original stories Abu l-Ghazi wove into his narrative should be told, a story that gives an amusing though telling twist to his stern dynastic report. This anecdote concerns his maternal great-aunt Aziz Khanïm and paternal great-uncle Pulad Sultan, the son of Aqatay Khan, Abu l-Ghazi’s great-grandfather. Our author calls this Pulad Sultan a fainthearted simpleton (aqïlsïz ve ghayretsiz, tintek) about whom he had heard many anecdotes in his childhood (ShaTu, 267). One day, in the women’s quarters, Pulad Sultan could not stop bragging about his feats of bravery in fighting the Bukharan enemy, while in reality he had run away the very same day. His principal wife Aziz Khanïm, daughter of Ilbars Khan and therefore a Chinggisid like her husband, felt ashamed of his behaviour in front of the other ladies and tried to stop him. But Pulad Sultan started swearing at her, which the khanïm parried quickwittedly. Finally she took a stick and chased after him. He raced across the room, fell over a sofa and broke his leg (ShaTu, 268–269).54 We may conclude that Abu l-Ghazi Bahadahur Khan was not unaware of women’s role in toppling unworthy men.

References and Abbreviations Annanepesov, M., “The Khanates of Khiva and Kokand and the Relations between the Khanates and with Other Powers. Part One: The Khanate of Khiva (Khwarazm).” In History of Civilizations of Central Asia, vol. V: Development in Contrast: From the

53 For some thoughts on this topic see Kellner-Heinkele, “Feasting”. 54 On Pulad/Fulad Sultan, see FIT, 34, 35, 38, 39g, 70.

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Sixteenth to the Mid-nineteenth Century. Edited by Chahryar Adle — Irfan Habib — Karl M. Baipakov, 63–71. Paris: UNESCO, 2003. Biran, Michal, “The Mongols in Central Asia from Chinggis Khan’s Invasion to the Rise of Temür: The Ögödeid and Chaghadaid Realms.” In The Cambridge History of Inner Asia. The Chinggisid Age. Edited by Nicola di Cosmo — Allen J. Frank — Peter B. Golden, 46–66. Cambridge — New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009. Boyle, H. A., “Dynastic and Political History of the Īl-Khāns.” In The Cambridge History of Iran 5, The Saljuq and Mongol Periods. Edited by J. A. Boyle, 303–421. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968. Bosworth, C. E., “The Political and Dynastic History of the Iranian World (A. D. 1000– 1217).” In The Cambridge History of Iran 5, The Saljuq and Mongol Periods. Edited by J. A. Boyle, 1–202. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968. Bosworth, C. E., art. “Tekish.” In EI, N. E. X (1999), 414–415. Bosworth, C. E., art. “Terken Khātūn.” In EI, N. E. X (1999), 419. Bregel, Yuri, “Uzbeks, Qazaqs and Turkmens.” In The Cambridge History of Inner Asia. The Chinggisid Age. Edited by Nicola di Cosmo — Allen J. Frank — Peter B. Golden, 221–236. Cambridge — New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009. Bregel, Yuri, “The New Uzbek States: Bukhara, Khiva and Khoqand: c. 1750–1886.” In The Cambridge History of Inner Asia. The Chinggisid Age. Edited by Nicola di Cosmo — Allen J. Frank — Peter B. Golden, 392–411. Cambridge — New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009. Bregel, Yuri, An Historical Atlas of Central Asia. Leiden: Brill, 2003. (Handbook of Oriental Studies, section 8, vol. 9). Bregel, Yuri, art. “Central Asia vii. In the 12th –13th /18th –19th Centuries.” In EIr 5 (1992), 193–205. The Cambridge History of Iran 5, The Saljuq and Mongol Periods. Edited by J. A. Boyle. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968. Dale, Stephen Frederic, “Steppe Humanism: The Autobiographical Writings of Zahir alDin Muhammad Babur, 1483–1530,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 22 (1990): 37–58. Di Cosmo, Nicola — Allen J. Frank — Peter B. Golden, eds., The Cambridge History of Inner Asia. The Chinggisid Age. Cambridge — New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009. Drompp, Michael R., “From Qatun to Refugee: The Taihe Princess among the Uighurs.” In The Role of Women in the Altaic World. Permanent International Altaistic Conference 44th Meeting, Walberberg, 26–31 August 2001. Edited by Veronika Veit, 57–68. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2007. (Asiatische Forschungen, 152). Eckmann, János, “Die tschaghataische Literatur.” In Philologiae Turcicae Fundamenta, 2. Edited by Pertev Naili Boratav, 304–402. Mainz: Steiner, 164. EI, N. E. The Encyclopaedia of Islam, New Edition, I-XI and Suppl. Leiden 1954–2004. EIr Encyclopaedia Iranica. New York 1982 — . Fenz, Hendrik and Petra Kappert (†), eds., Turkologie für das 21. Jahrhundert. Heraus-

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trale — Inde, XVe-XVIIIe siècles. Sous la direction de Maria Szuppe, 157–167. Tachkent — Aix-en-Provence: Institut français d’études sur l’Asie centrale, 1997. (Cahiers d’Asie Centrale, 3–4). Kügelgen, Anke von, Die Legitimierung der mittelasiatischen Mangitendynastie in den Werken ihrer Historiker (18.–19. Jahrhundert). Istanbul: Orient-Institut der DMG, 2002. (Beiruter Texte und Studien, 86; Türkische Welten, 9). Levi, Scott C. and Ron Sela, eds. Islamic Central Asia. An Anthology of Historical Sources. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2010. Manz, Beatrice Forbes, “Temür and the Early Timurids to c. 1450.” In The Cambridge History of Inner Asia. The Chinggisid Age. Edited by Nicola di Cosmo — Allen J. Frank — Peter B. Golden, 182–198. Cambridge — New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009. Manz, Beatrice Forbes, “Women in Timurid Dynastic Politics.” In Women in Iran from the Rise of Islam to 1800. Edited by Guity Nashat and Lois Beck, 121–139. Urbana etc.: University of Illinois Press, 2003. McChesney, R. D. “The Chinggisid Restoration in Central Asia: 1500–1785.” In The Cambridge History of Inner Asia. The Chinggisid Age. Edited by Nicola di Cosmo — Allen J. Frank — Peter B. Golden, 277–302. Cambridge — New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009. Minorsky, V. — [L. P. Elwell-Sutton], art. “Luli.” In EI, N. E. V (1983), 816–819. Mirza Haydar Dughlat’s Tarikh-i Rashidi. A History of the Khans of Moghulistan. English Translation & Annotation by W. M. Thackston. Harvard University: Department of Near Eastern Languages and Literatures, 1996 (Sources of Oriental Languages and Literatures, 38; Central Asian Sources, III). Nashat, Guity and Lois Beck, eds., Women in Iran from the Rise of Islam to 1800. Urbana etc.: University of Illinois Press, 2003. Ölmez, Zühal, Şecere-i Türk’e göre Moğol boyları. Ankara, 2003. Paul, Jürgen, Zentralasien. Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, 2012. (Neue Fischer Weltgeschichte, 10). Quade-Reutter, Karin, “… denn sie haben einen unvollkommenen Verstand”: herrschaftliche Damen im Grossraum Iran in der Mongolen- und Timuridenzeit (ca. 1250 – 1507), Aachen: Shaker, 2003. Al-Rabghūzī, The Stories of the Prophets. Qisas al-anbiyā’. An Eastern Turkish Version I. Critically edited by H. E. Boeschoten, M. Vandamme and S. Tezcan with the assistance of H. Braam and B. Radtke. II. Translated into English by H. E. Boeschoten, J. O’Kane and M. Vandamme. Leiden — New York — Köln: Brill, 1995. Rashiduddin Fazlullah’s Jami’u’t-tawarikh: Compendium of Chronicles. A History of the Mongols. English translation and annotation by W. M. Thackston. I–III. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, 1998–1999. (Sources of Oriental Languages and Literatures, 45). Rybatzki, Volker, “Female Personal Names in Middle Mongolian Sources.” In The Role of Women in the Altaic World. Permanent International Altaistic Conference 44th

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Meeting, Walberberg, 26–31 August 2001. Edited by Veronika Veit, 211–229. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2007. (Asiatische Forschungen, 152). Sagaster, Börte — Karin Schweißgut — Barbara Kellner-Heinkele — Claus Schönig, eds., Hoşsohbet. Erika Glassen zu Ehren. Würzburg: Ergon, 2011. (Istanbuler Texte und Studien, 25). Savory, R. M., art. “Čūbānids.” In EI, N. E. II (1961), 67–68. Schönig, Claus, “Babur als Literaturkritiker.” In Hoşsohbet. Erika Glassen zu Ehren. Hrsg. von Börte Sagaster — Karin Schweißgut — Barbara Kellner-Heinkele — Claus Schönig, 223–236. Würzburg: Ergon, 2011 (Istanbuler Texte und Studien, 25). Schönig, Claus, “Frauen im Bābur-nāme,” In Turkologie für das 21. Jahrhundert. Herausforderungen zwischen Tradition und Moderne. Materialien der vierten Turkologen-Konferenz Hamburg, 15.–18. März 1999. Hrsg. von Hendrik Fenz und Petra Kappert (†), 231–242. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2006. (Veröffentlichungen der Societas Uralo-Altaica, 70). ShaTa Ebulgazi Bahadır Han, Şecere-i Terākime (Türkmenlerin soykütüğü). Haz.: Zuhal Kargı Ölmez. Ankara: Simurg, 1996. (Türk Dilleri Araştırmaları Dizisi, 3). ShaTu Petr I. Desmaisons, Histoire des Mongols et des Tatares par Aboul-Ghâzi Béhadour Khân Souverain de Kharezm et historien Djaghataï 1603–1664 A.D. Texte turc-oriental [...] avec une traduction française, des notes critiques, des variantes et un index. I–II. St. Petersburg, 1871–1874 (reprint: St. Leonards: Ad Orientem — Amsterdam: Philo Press, 1970). Sinor, Denis, “Some Observations on Women in Early and Medieval Inner Asian History.” In The Role of Women in the Altaic World. Permanent International Altaistic Conference 44th Meeting, Walberberg, 26–31 August 2001. Edited by Veronika Veit, 261–268. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2007. (Asiatische Forschungen, 152). Sinor, Denis, ed., The Cambridge History of Early Inner Asia. Cambridge — New York — Port Chester — Melbourne — Sydney: Cambridge University Press, 1990. Sinor, Denis, “The Establishment and Dissolution of the Türk Empire.” In The Cambridge History of Early Inner Asia. Edited by Denis Sinor, 285–316. Cambridge — New York — Port Chester — Melbourne — Sydney: Cambridge University Press, 1990. Sinor, Denis, “The Uighurs.” In The Cambridge History of Early Inner Asia. Edited by Denis Sinor, 317–342. Cambridge — New York — Port Chester — Melbourne — Sydney: Cambridge University Press, 1990. Soucek, Priscilla P., “Tīmūrid Women: A Cultural Perspective.” In Women in the Medieval Islamic World. Power, Patronage, and Piety. Edited by Gavin R. G. Hambly, 199–226. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1998. Soucek, Svat, A History of Inner Asia. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Spuler, Bertold, Die Mongolen in Iran. Politik, Verwaltung und Kultur der Ilchanzeit 1200–1350. 3rd ed. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1968. Steiner, Johannes, “In bed with Genghis Khan.” In “Gebieter über die Völker in den

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Satoshi Kubo

Language that soils and injures ‘namus’: Reading and comprehending ‘namus’ as a speech act Introduction This paper aims to show the integral characteristic of the concept/phenomenon ‘namus’ through an examination based on the theory and the course of a ‘namus cinayeti’ (honor killing) presented in a theater play. Through this, we should acknowledge the performative aspect of the language related to ‘namus’, which forms and constitutes its theory and power. The value or the concept ‘namus’, which is basically translated as “honor”, attracts attention in connection with the phenomenon of ‘namus cinayeti’ (honor killing); this has generally been argued mainly within the scope which emphasizes the relationship of ‘namus’ to men and women. Often perceived with a deep relationship to a woman’s sexuality, ‘namus’ displays a general structure in which men seem to own and control a woman’s chastity for the phenomenon of ‘namus’ to be selfsustaining.1 In this framework, some sort of mutuality can be acknowledged whereby women maintain their chastity or fidelity towards men while men still seem to be in control.It should never be overlooked that there exists a hierarchical power relationship between these two sides. This means that it is not possible for man and woman to maintain or acquire ‘namus’ independent of one another. Although this model shows the situation in which ‘namus’ is established in the relation between men and women, it does not satisfactorily explain the characteristics or nature of ‘namus’: Why and how could this concept or value become an adequate reason for a ‘namus killing’, which occurs in an extreme and unforgivable way and which compels one to kill, usually a woman of one’s own family (daughter, sister, wife)? With the view of putting forward an alternative perspective on ‘namus’ and ‘namus killing’, which seem complicated and incomprehensible, we are now going to 1 See, e. g., Lâle Yalçın-Heckmann, “Namus, Şeref ve Onur Kavramları Üzerine Düşünceler” Ehre und Würde = Şeref ve Onur, (Hamburg: Körber-Stiftung, 2000); Filiz Kardam, The Dynamic of Honor Killings in Turkey: Prospects for Action (Ankara: United Nations Population Fund, 2005); Kaoru Murakami “Women’s labor in Turkey and the standard of namus” Sex and culture of Islam, (A series of Islamic regional studies, Vol. 6, Tokyo University Press, 2005). Satoshi Kubo, Osaka University, Japan https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-012

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examine a theater text which contains ‘namus killing’ as it unfolded. Originally written as a short story with the same title by Ayla Kutlu, Zeynep Kaçar’s dramatized play, Mekruh Kadınlar Mezarlığı2 (“The cemetery of foul women”), presents the process of a sororicide, in which a young brother shoots and kills his elder sister in the name of ‘namus’. What we are going to examine here is how the ‘namus killing’ in this play is reasoned, authorized and driven with discourse by the community surrounding the persons concerned — the one who kills and the one killed — and to pay attention to the significance of this verbal action.

Sequence of a ‘namus killing’ in the play Mekruh Kadınlar Mezarlığı The homicide in the name of a ‘namus’, ‘namus killing’, occurs when one’s ‘namus’ is acknowledged to have been “injured, damaged” or “soiled”. Within the structure shown above, “injury” or “soil” to the ‘namus’ results from the loss of a woman’s chastity, and this not only means the crisis of her own ‘namus’ but also endangers a man’s ‘namus’, which is achieved by controlling her in order to preserve her chastity. In creating this situation, a ‘namus killing’ is brought into action; with the object of “cleaning” the ‘namus’, the woman is killed and eliminated by her own family member, usually by a man in the position of guardian/controller of her, as clearly shown in Kardam’s reports, for example. In the play Mekruh Kadınlar Mezarlığı,3 the man and woman directly involved in the incident are the young man Şahid and his elder sister Hediye. Residing at home as a widow, she is placed in the state of needing control/protection from a “man” in the family. Here, as it lacks the existence of their real father for some reason or other, the role is assigned to Hediye’s young brother Şahid, as he’s the only man in the family. Entrusted with his sister’s ‘namus’, he is obliged to protect Hediye, who, as a young beautiful widow, cannot escape from being an object of desire for men surrounding her. Now, these men, on the one hand show their lust for her, but on the other hand, demand from Şahid the control or protection of his sister. However, despite his efforts, this young brother cannot successfully control her; refusing to be restrained, Hediye continues to go out on her own free will.

2 The play is included in: Zeynep Kaçar, Toplu Oyunları 1, (İstanbul: Mitos-Boyut Tiyatro Yayınları, 2007). 3 The play is mainly divided into two parts: the “present”, which shows an old woman, Ayşad, the protagonist of the play, on the verge of death lying on a bed in a hospital, and the “past” — her memory, in which young Ayşad witnesses a ‘namus killing’ that sacrifices the life of her close friend, Hediye, in the name of ‘namus’. This paper deals only with the incidents in the “past” section for the purpose of investigating the course of event of the ‘namus killing’.

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Under these circumstances, the incident is triggered as Hediye goes out to the house of the former chief’s wife, Nihal, to watch a theater to be held there. Unfortunately for her, one of the men witnesses her going into the house, and then reports this to Şahid infusing him with the information that she is going to have “fun” with the theater actors. While Şahid remains surprised but with doubt, the other men construct a fatal discourse based on the report: As Hediye — a widow who knows well enough of the “taste of men” — will certainly mingle with the men there, Şahid would ultimately be held accountable for the ’namus’ and therefore he must punish her for this “whorish act.” Thus upholding ‘namus’ as an unforgivable reason, the men hand Şahid a pistol and drive him to put an end to this problematic situation. Accompanying him with a “raid” on the house where the theater is being played, they support this hesitant young man with the insistence on the unshakable, immediate necessity of “cleaning” the ‘namus’, and succesfully encourage Şahid to finally fire the gun at his sister.

Talking and Gossiping The reason why Hediye deserved to be killed is what is constituted through the dialogue of the men. Despite the fact that what in reality she was engaging in was “to watch a theater,” this was referred to as “an act of prostitution” and hence it was acknowledged that she had “soiled” the ‘namus’. Thus in appearing to need a “cleaning” of the ‘namus’, its practice — the sororicide by Şahid — is fuelled. What is quite clear in this process is that “word/discourse” has been given priority over “what is really happening”; “language” is overwhelming “reality”. At this point, as we will focus on the verbal activity associated with “language” or “discourse,” we should notice the notes or the comments that hint at the effectiveness and the power of “gossip” or “talk” within the scope of the ‘namus’ and ‘namus killing’ rule. In the works of Bağlı/Öznesel, and Kardam, which include interviews with people who have had direct/indirect experiences or possess memories concerning ‘namus killing’, we can observe some stories of such killings which are triggered by “gossip” — for instance, gossip that one’s wife is having an affair with another man or that one’s daughter is illegally having a relation with a man before marriage.4 In these cases, “gossip” may seem to just play the role of a tiny spark which eventually leads to the actual evidence — conclusive component for a ‘namus killing’. However, what appears to be more crucial in terms of the ability of “gossip” is shown in the suggestions that

4 See, e. g.: Kardam, The Dynamic of Honor Killings in Turkey: Prospects for Action, 30; Bağlı/Öznesel, Türkiye’de Töre ve Namus Cinayetleri, 151, 154.

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“gossip” itself possesses a great deal of impact and momentum that would drive someone to this homicide. Kardam, for example, emphasizing the significance of “gossip” along with the indication of its influence, states the following: If people are gossiping about the so-called ‘dishonorable conduct’, then the family feels obliged to take some action as is expected by the people around them. What is being said about the event and how it will affect the status and dignity of the family seems to be much more important than the event itself. Therefore it was observed that, in some of the cases, the families try very hard to conceal such events from the people around them.5

The tendency to “avoid gossip6 ” by means of concealment is not peculiar only to the situation following an “incident”; the thought of a young man, included in the same work of Kardam, clearly shows the idea of precaution against gossip within the framework of men’s control over women. In short, it claims that women should be controlled and tied in order to prevent any “verbal attention”: [an honorable woman] should be tied to the home, should be tied to her husband... she must not behave in any way that invites gossip. She should be tied to the home. She should not bring any empty talk to her family in any way […].7

Then, when we proceed to look for a reason why and how the fear of “gossip” or “talk” like this pertains to the issue of ‘namus’, it would not be quite accurate to answer with the logic that it results in “soiling/injuring” one’s ‘namus’ and hence in ‘namus killing’ as its outcome. Now, citing what Matsubara points out on the nature and characteristic of ‘namus’, we’d like to acquire a perspective from which we view the practice, “gossip” or “talk”, as the very act meant to “injure” the ‘namus’.

Touching and Visualizing ‘Namus’ Among Matsubara’s observations, starting with an examination of the expansions of the word ‘namus’ as a noun (such as ‘namuslu’ — honorable, and ‘namussuz’ — dishonorable) in related expressions or phrases, what seems to be of the greatest significance is the indication of the essence of ‘namus’ that is deduced from the expression, “namusuna dokunmak”, which in its literal meaning “to touch one’s namus,” functions as an idiom “to harm/injure one’s namus”. Remarking on this relationship between the literal and the idiomatic meaning, Matsubara points out the large potential of the act of “touching”:

5 Kardam, The Dynamic of Honor Killings in Turkey: Prospects for Action, 38. (See also, 30, 34, 35.) 6 Ibid., 39. 7 Ibid., 18.

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The deep part of ‘namus’ is never exposed at its original state. It’s never seen unless one touches it. It expresses itself as a backlash against a motion, a corrective force against a force. That means, the state of ‘namuslu’ can be achieved by counteracting an act of ‘namussuz’.8

If we understand ‘namus’ in this model, which shows it as an invisible object that generalizes a counter moment when a motion is made, we recognize that ‘namus’ is what should not be seen and hence should be concealed. In that case, it would be concluded that “touching” and thereby visualizing ‘namus’ is nothing more than “injuring” ‘namus’ — as the expression “namusuna dokunmak” confirms by associating its literal meaning with its idiomatic function. Here, there is only but one way to accomplish “touching” ‘namus’; that is by language or word. Any physical action can never have any direct effect on the noun ‘namus’, and the conceptual material on which it is based. ‘Namus’ cannot be “touched” by the act of a woman having a relation with a man: by referring to the fact or the incident “there is/there was” one can hardly achieve access to ‘namus’. This argument enables us to grasp the reason or the source of the fear of “gossip” and “talk”, which we have already dealt with through Kardam’s work, not only in terms of the influence and the decisiveness they would bring about in relation to their aftereffects but also of the potential danger they themselves possess within: to “touch” ‘namus’ verbally through “gossip” and “talk” is exactly synonymous with the act of “injuring” ‘namus’. On the basis of this model, we can add another statement regarding the relation between ‘namus’ and ‘language’ as we acknowledge the characteristic of the invisible ‘namus’, which becomes visible through a verbal “touch” generalizing a momentum against it: ‘Namus’ is activated by the word. If there is no motion to “touch”, then ‘namus’ is practically inactive; through “touching” by means of language — by referring to, questioning, talking about it — can ‘namus’ gain the power to move.

Act of “soiling/injuring” ‘namus’ — Who really “touches” it? In regards this relationship between ‘namus’ and language — in which language functions as a visualizer or activator of untouched invisible or inactive ‘namus’, we shall review the process and the situation of the ‘namus killing’ presented in the play for the purpose of proposing a further assertion on the language of or on ‘namus’.

8 Masatake Matsubara, “Values and evaluations. On namus in Turkish society” Islam: values and images, (Lecture in Islam Vol. 4, Chikuma Press, 1986), 52.

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The decision to execute Hediye was made by the men9 through the claim of her “whorish act” that leads to the “soil” of the ‘namus’. Parallel with this process, the men also claim Şahid’s responsibility for her ‘namus’ and this problematic situation: Cemil: You must take responsibility for your sister’s ‘namus’ Şahid!10 Cemil: (...) If you don’t take control of her ‘namus’, then who would?11 Man 2: It’s your task to clean the ‘namus’.12

The allegation of Hediye having “injured” the ‘namus’ that justified the homicide brings another legitimization for a “special” process even after her death; Hoca Efendi, who comes to the site after the event, stigmatizing her body as “foul” on the basis of the disastrous state she had brought on the ‘namus’, forbids any mourning procedure to be made, such as praying and burying the body in the cemetery: Hoca Efendi: That foul body cannot be sent to the cemetery. Hayriye: Foul? Hoca Efendi: She has been executed for her whorish act; caused trouble to her brother, endangered the ‘namus’ of the family. It is foul. We cannot pray for this kind...13

No matter how these men insist on the legitimacy or the authority in the claims and decisions concerning Hediye’s death and her “foulness”, it still remains obvious who actually “touched” it, i.e. who actually engaged in the act of talking, questioning, and making a remark on Hediye’s and also Şahid’s ‘namus’: None other than the men surrounding this brother and sister are the actual actors. By way of transcribing the act “watching a theater” into “a prostitution/whorishness” and thereby calling the ‘namus’ of Hediye and Şahid into the question they managed to “touch” it. As a consequence, we recognize that the men’s utterances that constitute the claim that “Hediye is committing a whorishness”, is not at all ‘constative’ but ‘performative’ (Austin); by uttering the statement they perform the “touch” and “activate” the ‘namus’ of Hediye and Şahid, thereby establishing a no-way-out route for Şahid toward the ‘namus killing’. From this point of view, we are to conclude that who directly injures the ‘namus’ in this situation is not Hediye, but the men themselves. And this illustrates another hypocritical nature of these men, who, as mentioned above, while pursuing her with lust, demand Şahid to control or protect his sister in accordance with his duty to do so; notwithstanding their very act to “touch/injure” the ‘namus’, they urge Şahid to “clean” it.

9 These men are named in the play as Adem, Cemil, Man 1 (1. Adam), Man 2 (2. Adam). 10 Kaçar, Toplu Oyunları 1, 146. 11 Ibid., 147. 12 Ibid., 151. 13 Ibid., 155. Hayriye is Hediye and Şahid’s mother.

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Conclusion What this paper aimed to show is the relationship between ‘namus’ and language in this manner. Invisible or inactive ‘namus’ gains momentum by being “touched” and then becomes visible or active. Here, the act of “touching” is executed through the verbal speech act; one can affect ‘namus’ by means of utterances such as “gossip”, “talk”, “reference”, and “question”. Such kinds of language function performatively, and ‘namus’ is threatened when it is “talked about or touched” and thereby “injured.” In this process, it allegedly exceeds what it actually is and language overwhelms reality.

Bibliography Austin, J. L. How to Do Things With Words. London: Oxford University Press, 1962. Bağlı, Mazhar and Öznesel, Ertan. Türkiye’de Töre ve Namus Cinayetleri. İstanbul: Destek Medya Prodüksiyon & Yayınevi, 2011. Kaçar, Zeynep. Toplu Oyunları 1. İstanbul: Mitos-Boyut Tiyatro Yayınları, 2007. Kaçar, Zeynep. Toplu Oyunları 2. İstanbul: Mitos-Boyut Tiyatro Yayınları, 2008. Kaçar, Zeynep. Toplu Oyunları 3. İstanbul: Mitos-Boyut Tiyatro Yayınları, 2011. Kardam, Filiz. The Dynamic of Honor Killings in Turkey: Prospects for Action. Ankara: United Nations Population Fund, 2005. Kardam, Filiz. “Namus Algısı ve Namus Cinayetlerinde ‘Kaçınılmazlık’ Vurgusu.” İdarecinin Sesi Dergisi. 147. Sayısı Eylül-Ekim (2011): 54-57. Kutlu, Ayla. Mekruh Kadınlar Mezarlığı. Ankara: Bilgi Yayınları, 2000. Matsubara, Masatake. “Values and evaluations. On namus in Turkish society [価値観 と評価 — トルコ社会におけるナムスをめぐって — ].” In Islam: values and images. Edited by Itagaki Yuzo. Lecture Islam Vol. 4, Chikuma Press, 1986. Murakami, Kaoru. “Women’s labor in Turkey and the standard of namus [トルコの女 性労働とナームス（性的名誉）規範].” In Sex and culture of Islam. Edited by Kato Hiroshi. A series of Islamic regional studies, Vol. 6, Tokyo University Press, 2005. Özbek, Sinan. Pratik Felsefe Yazıları: Savaş, Namus Cinayeti, Ahlak, Ölüm, Asimilasyon, İktidar. İstanbul: Notos Kitap Yayınevi, 2011. Schiffauer, Werner. Die Gewalt der Ehre. Berlin: Suhrkamp, 1983. Yalçın-Heckmann, Lâle. “Namus, Şeref ve Onur Kavramları Üzerine Düşünceler.” In Ehre und Würde = Şeref ve Onur. Hamburg: Körber-Stiftung, 2000.

Jacques Legrand

Is Language “Gender” Related With “Sex”? (The Case of Mongolian, a Language without Gender) The purpose of this paper is to draw some conclusions from the observation of the gender issue in Mongolian. With no gender identified neither in formal linguistic reality (comparable to “masculine”/“feminine”/“neuter”) nor in the Mongols’ language consciousness, the Mongolian language offers an interesting vantage point on these topics.

A need for questioning synonymy and polysemy The distinction between “male” and “female” is obviously known, practiced and recognized in every culture. Sexual differentiation, due to its natural and generalized character, provides human consciousness, thinking and language with a very useful and large set of images and patterns. This includes physical, physiological, psychological features or analogies as well as the many-fold symbolic representations and behaviors. In the field of language study, it must be observed that the frequent association between grammatical gender distinction, i.e. the formation in many languages of large classes of lexical units/terms (as a rule — names), the denominations of which use terms like “masculine”, “feminine” (but “neuter” too), induces a common and largely accepted identification of these terms with those of sexual specialization: “masculine” with “male” and “feminine” with “female”. My purpose here is not to deny any relationship between the two categories, but to consider these relations as far less natural and universal than frequently admitted. By the way, both pairs of terms form what is thus largely recognized as synonyms. The very use of these pairs of terms, which could be used reciprocally raises a major question: in almost every dictionary, synonyms are defined as “words with near or approached meanings”, “synonyms are different words which have the same meaning, or almost the same meaning”1 or is “a word that has the same meaning as another word”,2 synonymy being defined as “similar meaning in

1 http://tx.english-ch.com/teacher/yvette/level-c/synonyms-antonyms-homonyms-and-more/ 2 Mac Millan Dictionary, www.macmillandictionary.com/us/dictionary/american/synonym Jacques Legrand, France https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-013

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different words”.3 As the French Grand dictionnaire Robert states, synonyms are “mots ou expressions qui ont le même sens (ou une signification voisine)”.4 Unfortunately, this generally and uncritically accepted definition relies upon a deep and frequently misleading misunderstanding. Even when it may seem that one synonym differs from one other only by some “imperceptible nuance” as Littré wrote,5 and even when most users of a given language do not need to reflect about the necessity or their own preference to choose one word or another, the reality is of a very different nature: synonyms are words “speaking of the same thing”, but having different semantic content, sometimes contradictory or opposite, of a same object. If “stone” and “rock” are synonyms, the difference between receiving a stone and a rock on one’s foot may represent more than an “imperceptible nuance”. This warning should be kept in mind when “male” and “masculine” or “female” and “feminine” are used as plainly equivalent. In a broader sense, the same dilemma may be raised about the “gender”/“sex” pair, considered as synonyms (the latter being replaced nowadays by “gender”, probably to comply with Anglo-Saxon puritan convictions). That’s why it must be underlined that accepting a modern definition of gender as a sociological concept pointing out social relations between the sexes and, more concretely analyzing status, social roles and relations between men and women does not mean that this concept can be extended to any sphere in which human thinking uses the image of sexual differentiation as a representation for binary categorization. It could be underlined, as a basic condition of scientific analysis, that any hypothesis may be supported or refuted through observation or experimentation, but also that the ascertainment of facts which do not fit the hypothesis is sufficient to refute it or at least to restrain its limits of validity more or less severely. Language gender is precisely one of these spheres in which the hypothesis of “synonymy” between “gender” and “sex” must be dealt with very cautiously. At the same time, heavily charged polysemy arising from such a term as “gender”, not systematically related to its use as an alternative for “form of sexual differentiation”, makes the caution mentioned above even more necessary.

Autonomy between gender and sex in language In gendered languages, grammatical gender differentiation seems to apply to nouns and not to verbs, but in fact gender specialization is mainly limited to the morphology of grammatical marks or external determinants, such as personal, possessive or

3 id., www.macmillandictionary.com/us/dictionary/american/synonymy 4 Paul Robert, Dictionnaire alphabétique et analogique de la langue française, SNL, Paris 1972, t. VI, p. 441 5 Paul-Emile Littré, Dictionnaire de la langue française, CFL, Paris 1957, t. IV, p. 6156

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demonstrative determinants and pronouns:her, his, French ce/cette; son/sa), articles (French le, la), feminine or masculine form of adjectives), etc. In English, determination concerns the subject referred to and in no way the gender of the marked lexical unit itself: her shoes shows that the owner is a female, not that shoe is feminine. On the contrary, in French, the external determining unit frequently informs us about the gender of the determined name: Il a pris sa chaussure ‘He took his boot’, but ‘He took her boot, too’ indicates that chaussure ‘boot’ belongs to the feminine gender category. But the same could be said about nouns too: for most of them, the lexical stem or even the whole unit does not bear any identifiable gender attribution. The context defined by syntax and enunciation is always present and frequently misleading.6 Assignment to a given gender category is also frequently carried out by derivational affixes (suffixes and prefixes) combined with lexical stems to form more or less stable new terms. It is quite difficult, if even possible, to ascribe a logical reason to most of “feminine” or “masculine” identifications. Only through affixation of some derivational suffixes is the gender “result” predictable. For instance, the French derivational affix -ette (diminutive suffix) systematically assigns feminine gender to the new noun, irrespective of the gender of the original noun. Thus, although maison ‘house’ is feminine and savon ‘soap’ is masculine, maisonnette ‘little house’ and savonnette ‘small soap bar, toilet soap’ are both feminine. As a rule, as the ending of maison and savon demonstrates and apart from such marginal and clearly identified cases, nothing permits — in many languages — the identification of any permanency or regularity in noun gender attributions. It is also common that in various languages words which denominate the same phenomenon belong to “opposite” genders (for instance, in French and German where le soleil has ‘die Sonne’ as its counterpart, whereas la lune is ‘der Mond’). When nouns in gendered languages describe realities linked with sexual differentiation, it is common to assume that the lexical unit bears a grammatical gender in accordance with its semantic content. However, this is in no way so mechanical. It may sound strange for example that French virilité ‘virility’ is feminine. There is no space here to develop a well-known reality: in gendered languages, the names of natural species, especially animals, are qualified from the point of view of gender as masculine or feminine. Although in each species males and females must be biologically represented in naturally significant proportions, the name of the species itself is assigned to the feminine or masculine gender with no “biological” justification. Even direct perception cannot be an argument: in a gendered language, the generic term for any species must be either masculine or feminine, but when somebody looks at a sheep (by the way, feminine in English) and commonly calls it un

6 Thus, in French, before a name beginning with a vowel, the distinction of possessive determinants between feminine “sa” [sa] and “masculine” “son” [sõ] is neutralized in “son” [sõ/sõn], making feminine/masculine distinction difficult to perceive — a frequent source of mistakes for children or non French speakers: “son idée” [sõnidɛ] his/her idea and “son avion” [sõnaviõ] his/her plane sound identical and do not provide the information that “idée” is feminine while “avion” is masculine.

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mouton in French, he is not always aware of the fact that the animal he is calling by this masculine term is in 95% of cases a female sheep. Not everybody has the necessary skills or visual acuity to distinguish immediately la brebis ‘ewe, female sheep’ from le belier ‘ram’. The same may be observed for horses, camels, cattle (masculine), while goat is feminine (la chèvre), etc. The explanation may have an etymological background, but this just pushes the problem one step further without solving it. It is thus useful to describe some elements and structures currently interpreted as gender markers, but which form only one part of the semantic derivation and do not create a grammatical gender category by themselves. This gives some illustrations of how difficult it is to interpret and distinguish grammatical gender in contrast with the natural sexual differentiation even in living species and even in languages in which such a distinction may be observed. In Mongolian, none of the external elements identifying gender, as described above, exist. The determinant units themselves are not specified. While in the inventory of personal pronouns it is possible to recognize number differentiation between singular and plural (bi/bid; ter/ted), although quite limited, nothing of that type occurs with gender oriented elements (for instance, in the form of distinct masculine and feminine personal pronouns). It may be of some help to hypothesize that terms constructed with the inclusion of plural suffixes lose this plural quality as soon as they are lexicalized. This is the case with a clearly “plural” form of the past participle -гсад, -гсэд, -сан+д (the form of the participle itself being a transliteration of the Uyghur-Mongolian written form -ɣsan, -gsen) with the addition of the classical -d/-д plural. A good example is provided by the legal use of the term гэрлэгсэд ‘husband, spouse’, used to define each of the partners as well as both of them taken together, thus losing its original plural significance. The same case may be observed with the pair сайн ‘good’/сайд ‘Minister’ and with many others. We are thus entitled to define Mongolian lexical units as a whole as unspecified in terms of gender and number. This does not mean at all, of course, that necessary differentiations are not expressed. This obviously concerns the naming of the sexual attribution of animate entities. This is manifest in the fields of animal husbandry or hunting (but equally in every-day vocabulary) in which the commonly known terminology of sex and age differentiation is in use. When necessary, male (both whole and castrated) and female animals have received a denomination of their own: female animals are known as гүү, ‘mare’, ингэ, ‘she-camel’, үнээ, ‘cow’, эм хонь, ‘ewe’, эм ямаа ‘female goat, goat’. Male animals are called азарга, ‘stallion, male horse’ (castrated, ‘gelding’: агт, агт морь); буур ‘male camel’ (castrated, ам); бух ‘bull’ (castrated, ‘oх’ шар); хуц, эр хонь ‘ram’ (castrated, ирэг); ухна, эр ямаа ‘billy goat’ (castrated, сэрх). Simultaneously, the generic names of species are indefinite as to gender, as all nouns are. Such terms as aduu адуу /mor’ морь ‘horse’, temee тэмээ ‘camel’, üхer үхэр ‘cattle’, yamaa ямаа ‘goat’, xon’ хонь ‘sheep’, etc. are thus neither masculine nor feminine. We may observe that none of the terms naming female and male animals, in every species, may be related either among themselves or with the species name but for some rare determined

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forms (e.g., эр хонь ‘male sheep’, эр ямаа ‘male goat’), being generally alternatives to specific namings. This observation may be extended to wild fauna: if the generic word for wolf is the well-known чоно čono, its male counterpart is азарган, with the ‘she-wolf’ being called өлөгчин or less frequently гичий чоно (гичий being a determinant meaning ‘female’, applied to some carnivorous wild or semi-wild mammals like dog, wolf, etc.), and the ‘cub’ being called бэлтрэг or гөлөг. These and many other examples provide illustrations of how difficult the interpretation of grammatical gender distinction is in contrast with or contrary to terms directly mirroring the natural sexual differentiation even in living species, even in languages in which such a distinction may be observed. Apart from these lexical issues, it is possible to find some derivational elements which could be, and are currently, interpreted as gender markers. Once more, these devices, some of which being highly historically significant, are tools for lexical creation, and cannot be left without being analyzed as parts of a gender systematic identification system. This is the case with the pair Qan/Qatun, хан/хатан “Khan” or “Emperor/Empress”, in which the derivational suffix -tun cannot be viewed as the grammatical feminine of Qan. We lack the space here to propose in detail a tentative interpretation of this derivation, whatever its etymology may be, much nearer to the -tu adjectival and to the -tai, -tan nominal derivational forms than to a feminine gender marker which could be generalized. In this way, the term qatun could be interpreted not as the grammatical feminine of qan, but — somehow more sexist oriented — the one “added”, “annexed” to the qan. Other remarkable units form a part of semantic derivation. We will present only a few examples below. They are frequently linked with social hierarchy, titles, and even more frequently with onomastics and the symbolic sphere. They enrich the lexical stock to express material and social reality, but these units are quite rare and their appearance, as interesting as it may be, cannot be understood as creating in any way a grammatical gender category and even less a balanced masculine/feminine system. Another worthy question is to study in which way terms produced by such means reflect social conditions and relations between men and women: the fact that such derivations specifically identifying women or women’s names, while men’s names seem not to need such tools, is of interest, as has been suggested for qan/qatun. The suffix -žin, -жин is largely sufficiently represented in mediaeval Mongolian onomastics. It is a specialized suffix, possibly related with the name üžin,7 creating a female proper name. Relatively numerous cases may be observed among ancient

7 See ℎ ö’elün-üzin, Secret History of the Mongols, § 55 and following

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Mongolian names, like Mongolžin qo’a,8 Mongolžin9 etc. The most famous and striking occurrence of this suffix is its use in the name Temüžin (originally Tatar chieftain Temüžin üge’s name, which Yisügei ba’atur decided to give to his first born son after he defeated his enemy). The structure of this name itself is quite clear and simple: the radical temü(r) (iron) is specified by –žin, initiating a female proper name. The fact that this name ‘Iron girl’ or ‘Iron lady’ was given to a Tatar leader and subsequently to the future Cinggis qan, although connected with sex distinction, is not grammatically gender related. To give a female name to a newborn male child and vice versa is a common practice, up to now, aimed at disorienting and deceiving the evil spirits which could harm the infant (these strategies produce some picturesque names still in use among the Mongols, like муу-охин Muu-oxin ‘Ugly-daughter’ or ‘Naughty-girl’, given to a boy or Enebiš, Terbiš ‘He/She-is-not-this-one’. Here again, this is in no way the result of any gender constraint. A last remark must be made about this suffix: it is not uncommon in Mongolian that the same form may be encountered in homonymic uses. Igor de Rachewiltz justifies with good reason his choice for the composition of his Index to the Secret History of the Mongols: “No attempt has been made to differentiate between the various functions of suffixes. Hence there are no separate entries for -ta as dative-locative, adverbial and multiplicative suffix”.10 This may be applied to this suffix, because its homonym appears as the result of both a nominalization or a gerundive in -n, -н, derivated from the highly productive verbal formative suffix -ži-, -жи- ‘to transform oneself into, to become, to pass through’: мусгай special > мусгайжи- ‘become special, to specialize’, баян rich > баяжи- ‘to enrich’, мал ‘herd’ > малжи- ‘to enlarge one’s herd’, өвөл ‘winter’ > өвөлжи- ‘to overwinter, to spend winter’–žin, өвөлжин ‘during winter’, орой ‘evening’, оройжи- ‘to spend the evening’, оройжин during ‘the evening’. So it is common to encounter uses of terms similar to this proper name, the above–žin, -жин, but having nothing in common with it. The suffix -gčin, -гчин: a close parent of the above, the suffix -gčin, -гчин deserves special attention. It is used in specifying the Yin character of one of the five elements, each symbolized by a different color forming with twelve animal names of the structure of the lunar calendar sixty year cycle — see table 1. Each year is defined by the name of the animal species, this animal name being in turn specified by one of the five elements symbolized by its color: the 50th year of the cycle is always the улаан луу (yang) — ‘red dragon’ year, while the 25th is always the цагаагчин туулай (yin) — ‘white hare’s’. Splitting color determinatives, suffix-marked ones bearing the Yin character while the unmarked form indicates the Yang character do not apply directly to

8 mongqolzin-qo’a, Secret History of the Mongols, § 3: Qarcu-jin kö’ün Borzigidai mergen Mongqolzinqo’a gergejitü azu’u, Qarcu’s son Borzigidai mergen got Mongqolzin-qo’a for (his) wife 9 mongqolzin, Secret History of the Mongols, § 202 10 Igor de Rachewiltz, Index to the Secret History of the Mongols, Indiana University Publications (UAS, vol. 121), Bloomington 1972, p. 4.

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Table 1: Animal Names by Element and Color in the Sexagenary Cycle

туулай hare луу dragon могой snake морин horse хонин sheep бичин monkey тахиа fowl нохой dog гахай pig хулгана rat үхэр cattle барс tiger

49 38 39

19 9 59

7 56

45 34

23

57 46

35 24

харагчин

хар

цагаагчин

шарагчин

цагаан

55

33

12

17 6

44

22 11

60

5

43

21

27 16

54

32

10

15

53

31

37 26

4

42

20

58

3

41

усан water, black арга билиг yang yin

25 14

52

30

8

шар

51

29

төмөр iron, white арга билиг yang yin

13 2

40

18

шороо earth, yellow арга билиг yang yin

1 50

28

48

улаагчин

гал fire, red арга арга yang yin улаан

хөхөгчин

модон wood, blue арга билиг yang yin

хөх

махбод element

47 36

the animal itself but to one of the five elements, each being symbolized by a respective color. It is worth noticing that for a given animal all the defining colors are exclusively yin or yang. For instance, hare years are exclusively yin (улаагчин, харагчин, etc.), while ‘dog years’ are exclusively yang (хөх, улаан, etc.). This does not allow one to translate these combinations of terms, both of which define a given year as if the color could describe the coat of the animal and with -gčin forms, of a female animal. We sometimes encounter confusions which may happen, indeed, even in Mongolian everyday language itself, either directly, when харагчин үхэр is employed instead of хар эм үхэр or хар үнээ (the standard being the use of the pairs er-e (male)/em-e (female) ascribed to the species name), is nothing but a misunderstanding of the attribution of the yin or yang characters being ascribed to any of the five elements (symbolized by color) and not to the animal itself. This rather complicated issue lies at the heart of the major and frequent confusions that reoccur over the use of the suffix -gčin. This error is frequently amplified by misleading translations of calendar animal names by sexed terms of ‘Ox’ or ‘Cow’, ‘Hen’ or ‘Cock’, and even ‘Mouse’ or ‘Rat’ years (with addition of strange and funny errors if ‘ox’ is still considered male or as if ‘mouse’ could be the female of ‘rat...). Thus, it does not appear, either in lexical units or through suffixation that the gender category may be used in Mongolian, even when naming living species. A last example seems interesting: beaver and female beaver are named in a very close manner, the name of the female beaver, минж үүхэй, being clearly derived from the species

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name, минж. But минж үүхэй is not the feminine of минж. This is not the case. If we analyse the uses of suffix -үүхэй, -уухай, which forms минжүүхэй, either on verb or noun stems, names produced by the use of this suffix mainly refer to small things or animals without any notion of gender or sex representation.11

Grammatical gender in a general representation and tools of binary category shift Even when sexual differentiation could be invoked, the situation is not always as clear as one could expect. It is even more difficult to accept any implicit association of gender with sex in the overwhelming part of the lexical inventory in gendered languages. Even in the case of expressions relying on direct sexual images or metaphors like the “male”/“female” parts of a mechanical assemblage, there is no direct or necessary contact, even remote, between grammatical gender and sexual differentiation: “male” as well as “female” parts of such a construction may themselves be feminine or masculine irrespective of their shape and use (to give one example, la vis ‘screw, the male part of a bolt’, is feminine, while l’écrou ‘nut’, its “female” part, is “masculine”). In this way, it seems inappropriate to apply “gender” identification on the sole basis of their supposed connection with the denomination of sexual realities: this attempt is most generally impossible to support if applied to broader sets of data. In a quite comparable way, the question of “gender”, as we have already noticed, may be considered with the question of “number”. In the case of this issue, a quite common mistake is to consider as plural the terms denoting things, animals or people, understood as describing many members of a given species, collection or even gender. This logical and semantic mistake is easily understandable; but nevertheless, it should not be forgotten that despite the frequent use of such an expression as “the majority of citizens want …”, in many languages “crowd” remains a singular word until it is changed into “crowds”. The Mongolian language once more is of help, in so far as it is easy to convince oneself that, unless a term is specified by a plural derivation suffix (but this use remains limited by severe constraints) or by determinants (plural articles, numeral adjectives, etc. excluding by the way the use of plural suffix on the name itself), Mongolian words are simply not specified in terms of “grammatical number” category. This has nothing in common with the seemingly compulsory inscription of any term in a singular or plural class observed in many language norms for which a “non-plural” word is by definition a “singular”. A Mongolian word not specified as

11 иржуухай ‘quail’, хөхчүүхэй ‘a small plover’, аниухай ‘with small eyes’, хяруухай ‘leveret born in autumn’, жижүүхэй “little” tenderly said to a child’, хажуухай/эжүүхэй ‘something very small’, etc.

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“plural” (and this is rare) is not a “singular”, but only a denomination for which, when necessary, number specification may be added. Given that every human culture is quite commonly aware of the separation between “female” and “male” factors, it is easier to show how this does not automatically lead to a linguistic opposition expressed in the form of “gender” duality. Much more interesting, the lack of grammatical gender category allows us to understand in which way the dual and logical distinction between эм em-e ‘female/feminine’ and эр ere-e ‘male/masculine’ may be invested in other meanings parallel with their obvious and permanent sexual contents. In one word, this even allows the use of such a couple of terms (aside from some others) to express many binary oppositions not necessarily related to sexual differentiation, instead of other possible alternative pairs or instead of long descriptive images. What is more, the female/male fundamental duality plays a really omnipresent, permanent and central role in nature, human existence, perceptions and reflexes. This must help us to understand why and how it is unavoidable that it may be mobilized, apart from sex related issues, to express, represent or formulate directly or by metaphors, any binary opposition. Such an opposition is not necessarily related to sexual differentiation. It may be used for any dual or seemingly dual opposition in parallel or in competition with other possible alternative pairs (hard/soft, hot/cold, major/minor, front/rear, single/plural, etc.). A good example of this is given in Mongolian with the use of “male” (эр, er-e) and “female” (эм, em-e) identifying in the Mongolian rich linguistic tradition the two (rear/front) series of vowel sounds [a], [o], [u] belonging to the “эр эгшиг, er-e egšig” rear groupings, while [e], [ö], [ü] and to a certain extent [i] belonging to the “эм эгшиг, em-e egšig” front groupings. The effects of this differentiation reach far beyond the scope of the present paper, but it may be assumed that it is not connected either with male/female or masculine/feminine oppositions. Common translation of these pairs into their seemingly direct counterparts “masculine/male vowels” and “feminine/female vowels” must be considered as a complete misunderstanding. A sort of joke which illustrates how deep this misunderstanding is and which seems to contradict the above statement, but represents a final striking but apparently unique example of the manipulation of this dual splitting must be given in conclusion. Nevertheless, one must remember that it applies to a loanword and offers a completely isolated case of the feedback effect in the interaction between the linguistic phonological dualism male/masculine–female/feminine proper to Mongolian linguistic tradition mentioned above and probably the gender-sex analogy borrowed from the tradition of gendered languages. This exotic case is provided by the name of the She-Lion, completely unknown to the Mongols under natural conditions, but somehow recognized through literature and cultural exchanges. The Lion being known under his Persian and Turkic name арслан arslan, his female has been given the specific name of эрслэн erslen, which is as far as I know a completely isolated phenomenon. Here a sort of cross-breeding between the two traditions is interesting, the change from arslan to er-

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slen being undoubtedly an alternative, in which [e] is the counterpart of [a] in the two vowel groupings. The vowel exchange produces a neologism giving the natural representation of the pair lion and she-lion. This effect is thus obtained by incorporating a vowel binary alternative to the original name which evokes sexual differentiation itself. In conclusion, if definite categories in the lexical stock seem easily eligible to a sex-based distinction, and if grammatical features ascribe a gender character for some parts of lexical units created by the use of these features, it seems that a much larger part of the lexical stock in gendered languages is ascribed to the definite gender only by custom and norms (with shift and changes frequently observed). Apart from these considerations, it appears, too, that gender specialization is in no way a universal feature common to the whole of human languages and to every concrete language. Considering gendered and genderless languages may help us reflect about the contribution of various features and of diverse strategies (gender as a syntactical tool, word order, etc.).

Liu Ge

Turpan Non-free Women in the Perspective of Addressing Female Slaves in the Era of the Mongol and Yuan Dynasty (Research on Uyghur documents Unearthed in Turpan) Phrases in Uygur documents used in addressing trafficked women Yamada Nobuo collected some Uyghur documents unearthed from Turpan concerning trade in his work Collection of Uygur Contract Documents,1 five of which are about early female trafficking or trade in women. In these five documents, there are three terms of address used to indicate the status of these women, namely, qarabaš, kung and qadun kiši, as explained in the following. The relevant phrases used in talking about trafficked women in Document Sa222 are: manga yrp toɣrïl-qa///////kümüš krgäk bolup. kimzun atlɣ äbči qarabašïmnï·älig stïr yarmaq kümüš-kä·Inäči-kä toɣru tomlïdu satdïm·In these phrases, äbči qarabaš is the term used in addressing a female being trafficked without using the woman’s name. The relevant phrases used in talking about trafficked women in Document Sa233 are: alik qay-a ačï-qa yunglaq-lïq böz krgäk bolup iki ygrmi yašlïɣ taq küng adlïɣ qïz qrbaš-ïm-nï’äničük-kä toɣuru tomlïdu sdïm. In these phrases, qïz qrbaš is the term used in addressing a female being trafficked without using the woman’s name. The relevant phrases used in talking about trafficked women in Document Sa254 are: manga/////////////////böz krgäk bolup bulat-tïn yüz böz alïp män qalïmdu-nïng kiši-tin ulam sad ɣïn almïš tulat adlïɣ küngüm-ni toɣuru tomlïdu sadtïm. In these phrases, kung is the term used in addressing a female being trafficked without using the woman’s name.

1 “Sammlung uigurischer Kontrakte”, Juten Oda, Peter Zieme, Hiroshi Umemura, Takao Moriyasu (eds.). Osaka University Press, 1993. 小田寿典 P·ツイ－メ 梅村坦 森安孝夫《ウイグル文契约文 书集成》, 大阪大学出版社 1993. 2 opus cit., vol. 2, pp. 47–48. 3 opus cit., vol. 2, pp. 49–50. 4 opus cit., vol. 2, pp. 53–54. Liu Ge, School of History and Culture, Shaanxi Normal University, Xi’an, China 710062 , translated by Li Wenge — School of Foreign Languages, Shaanxi Normal University, Xi’an, China 710062 https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-014

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The relevant phrases used in talking about trafficked women in Document Sa295 are: manga ///////yunglaq-lïq böz kärgk bolup bädrüz-tin älig///baɣ-lïq böz alïp mäning’äsän tigin at-lïɣ küngüm-ni bädrüz-kä älig iki baɣ-lïq böz-kä torɣu tomludu sadtïm. In these phrases, kung is the term used in addressing a female being trafficked without using the woman’s name. The relevant phrases used in talking about trafficked women in Document Sa286 are: manga tädmilig qar-a buq-a ikägü-kä qarčlïq käräk bolup qudluɣ adlïɣ qadun kišińi sadïp qudluɣ tämür-tin yüz älig qalïn/ böz aldïmïz. In these phrases, qadun kiši is the term used in addressing a female being trafficked without using the woman’s name. Thus, what are the meanings of qarabaš, kung and qadun kiši? Some ancient Turkic dictionaries and modern academic works have introduced and studied these words.

Explanation of the terms of address qara baš, kung and qadun kiši qarabaš The Turkic dictionary compiled by Mahmud al-Kashgari says that kara (qara) means ‘black’, qarabaš meaning ‘black head’, and the terms is used in addressing slaves in general. The German scholar A. von Gabain says that qarabaš means ‘male slaves’ or ‘female slaves’. The Chinese scholar Geng Shimin gives a similar explanation. According to these records, qarabaš means ‘slave’, but does not distinguish between men and women. Terms of address like äbči qarabaš in Document Sa22 refer to a female slave. The word äbči is added before qarabaš. Terms of address like qïz qrbas in Document Sa23 represents a young female slave. The word qïz is added before qarabaš to describe a girl.

kung The Turkic dictionary compiled by Mahmud al-Kashgari says that kuŋ (kung) means ‘maid’. The verb қurtandï means ‘to scratch’, as in ‘the maid (tries to scratch) scratches (scratches from something like a flee-bite).’ The German scholar A. von Gabain says, kug is ‘female slave’, with kuŋ also meaning ‘female slave.’ The Geng Shimin explained the word as meaning ‘maid servant’.

5 opus cit., vol. 2, pp. 61–62. 6 opus cit., vol. 2, pp. 59–60.

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That is to say, kug is a special term for addressing a female slave. The word kung quoted from Documents Sa25 and Sa29 also is a term used in addressing a female slave.

qadun kiši The Turkic dictionary compiled by Mahmud al-Kashgari recorded and explained qadun kiši. Qudun is recorded as ķatun, which means ‘kedun, madame’, who are the female descendants of Afrasiap. As for kiši, kixi (i. e. kiši), the meaning is ‘person, people’. This word does not differentiate number or gender. The other interpretation of the same word is ‘a married woman, wife’. A. von Gabain explained this word as “kedun”, the title of a Turkic queen; she believes in most cases that Uighur did not borrow “kiši” in the documents. Therefore, it is likely that this word doesn’t mean ‘relatives’, but refers to ‘wife’. That is to say, ‘wife’ should take the responsibility for debts. The explanation given by Geng Shimin is ‘woman’; ‘human being’ or ‘wife’. Drawing conclusions from all these interpretations, one will find that generally the word for women in Uighur documents should be derived from the wife of the monarch of the Turkic people, kedun; and kiši also has the meaning ‘married woman’. The appellation qadun kiši in Document Sa28 cited earlier means only ‘married woman’.

Translation of example phrases If we consider the meanings of the three words as used in the five examples mentioned above, their meanings are as follows: The translation of the phrase in Document Sa22 is ‘I need taëls7 to sell the bondmaid called Kimzun to Inäči for 50 taëls legally’. The translation of the phrase in Document Sa23 is ‘I need cotton cloth (used for currency) to sell my bondmaid, 12-year-old Taq Kün, to Äničük fairly’. The translation of the phrase in Document Sa25 is ‘I need cotton cloth and took 100 pieces of cloth from Bulat, then sold my bondmaid named Tulat brought from others’. The translation of the phrase in Document Sa29 is ‘I need cotton cloth and took 5 pieces of cloth from Bädrüz, then sold my bondmaid named Äsän tigin to Bädrüz for 50 pieces of cotton cloth legally’. The translation of the phrase in Document Sa28 is ‘Both of us need money, and we took 150 pieces of cotton cloth from Qudluy to sell the woman called Qudluy’.

7 Chinese monetary unit used for currency: liang.

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The dictionaries cited above and previous studies inform us about the meanings of qarabaš, kung, and qadun kiši. In Mongolia and the Yuan Dynasty, the records in the Uighur documents give us more information about the social status and situation of women related to these words. In order to study the situation of non-free women from the Turpan Region in Mongolia and the Yuan Dynasty based on the terms used in addressing these bondmaids, the translation of the text of Document Sa22 will be presented.

Life experiences of trafficked women in Uygur documents Transcription of Document Sa22 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17.

tonguz yïl altïnč ay yiti yangïqa·manga yrp toɣrïl-qa ///////kümüš krgäk bolup·kimzun atlɣ äbči qarabašïm-nï·älig stïr yarmaq kümüš-kä·inäči-kä toɣru tomlïdu satdïm·bu qarabaš stïɣï kümüš-ni·bitig qïlmïš kün üzä·män inäči tükäl sanap birtim·män yrp toɣrïl ymä tükäl sanap aldïm·bu qarabaš üzä näčäkädägi·inäči ärklig bolzun·taplasar özi tutzun·taplamasar adïn//// //ötkürü stzun·bu qarabaš yol-ïnta·män yrp toɣrïl ////ičim inim tuɣmïš-ïm qadaš-ïm·yigän-im taɣay-ïm kim qayu čam čarïm qïlmazun-lar·apam birök čam čarïm qïlsar-lar bu qarabaš tänginčä iki qarabaš yaradu birip yulup alzun·yuldačï kiši qorluɣ bolzun·bu bitig tuta inäči qorsuz bolzun tanuq älik tanuq taqïčuq tanuq tarïm/// tanuq topula·bu tmɣa mäning’ol män ädgü toɣrïl aytïp bitidim tonguz yïl altïnč ay on yangïqa·män yrp toɣrïl·kimzun altlɣ(=atlɣ) qarabaš satïɣï älig stïr yarmaq kümüš-üg·inäči-tin tükäl altïm tanuq taqïčuq·bu tmɣa mäning’ol män ädg toɣrïl bitidim

Translation of Document Sa22 On the seventh day of the sixth month in the Year of the Pig, I need […?] taëls to sell the bondmaid called Kimzun to Inäči for 50 taëls legally. On the day of making the trade, Inäči counted the money for the bondmaid, and I got the money in full amounts. As for this bondmaid, Inäči is in possession of her at any time. He can order her if satisfied, or resell to others if not satisfied. While my relatives like brothers, dependants, sisters-in-law and uncles have no rights to involve in this thing. If they dispute about

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this thing, they must offer two satisfactory bondmaids to redeem the former one. At last, the person redeeming the bondmaid is suffering and Inäči has no loss by the contract. See Alik. See Taqicuq. See Tarim. See Topula. This seal is mine. This contact was written by my oral account. On the lunar June, 10th, I got the money for Kimzun from Inäči. I met Taqicuq. That stamp belongs to me. I, Ädgü Toɣrïl, wrote this contract.

Social phenomenon revealed from Uyghur documents concerning trade in women Except for names of persons, places and other proper nouns, the five Uyghur documents concerning female trafficking or trade in women almost all shared the same form, content and general phrases. Therefore, the translation of Document Sa22 is quite typical, and we can picture much related information about the woman called qarabaš. First, at that time female trafficking or trade in women was one of the major businesses and they were labeled with prices just like commodities. In Document Sa22, the value of a female slave named Kimzun was fifty taëls, whereas the women in Documents Sa23, Sa25, Sa28 and Sa29 were each worth eight cotton cloths, one hundred cotton cloths, one hundred and fifty thick cotton cloths and fifty bolts of cloth, respectively. Second, the woman sold in Document Sa23 was a 12-year-old slave named Tak Kung. Except for this, none of other documents were labeled with the age of those women. We also can perceive from the Document Sa22 that underage girls were quite popular in the human trade market. Third, four out the five women trade documents were marked with their identities, like qarabaš ‘slave’ or kung ‘female slave’. In Document Sa28, the woman was given the title qadun kiši meaning ‘women folk’. Although it didn’t directly show her status, we can see from her being sold as commodity that she was almost the same as a slave. Fourth, at that time human trade was legal. In the statement of Document Sa22, the buyer named Yap Toɣril used the phrase “buy fair and legally”, what’s more, in the five related and supported phrases beforehand, four phrases were almost in the same pattern. Those sentences were quite common in other human trade contracts. Fifth, there were phrases that indicated the buyers’ rights in the five female trading contracts, which illustrated that the women being sold named qarabaš, kung, qadun kiši had no freedom, no social status and belonged to the lowest social status. For instance, the formula in Document Sa22 declared that “the buyer Inäči is the owner of this slave at any time. If this slave is satisfactory, Inäči will keep her, or he will sell her to another buyer.” The sentences above indicated the buyer had three rights: first, ownership — he can own the slave at all times; second, the right to use — if the slave

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satisfied the buyer, he would keep her; third the right of disposition — if not, the buyer had the right to sell her to another dealer. As to the buyers’ ownership, Document Sa23 explaines it thoroughly by using the phrase “thousands of days and years” — “Äničük is the slave’s owner in thousands days and years”. In the contract above, the buyer said “I buy the slave fair and legally”, which indicates that human trade at that time was completely open and legal and the owner of the slave exercised his right of disposition. In Document Sa25, “Me, Kalïmdu, bought the female slave named Tulat for good from another person”, which tells us that the slave named Tulat had been sold at least once. This time, she was sold by her former owner and if the new buyer was not satisfied with her, she may be sold again. The three rights of the buyers towards female slaves reveal the miserable fates of the women who lived at the bottom of society.

Qarabaš and kung serve as the medium in cultural communications and ethnic integration From the slaves’ social environment, we can see that the prevailing language in the Gaochang area was Uighur and the Uighur speaking Turki were the major nationality. However, the names of many people reflect various kinds of culture, which shows that the Gaochang area at that time was a multi-ethnic residential place. Take Document Sa22 as an example. It consists of 8 names and one of them was Yap Toɣrïl. According to A. von Gabain, the word toɣrïl ‘eagle’ was very common in Uighur names. One of the writers of this document was Ädgü Toɣrïl. One of the witnesses in this document is called Alik, which was said to be a common Turkish name, according to A. von Gabain. The root of the word “Alik” is “el” and “Alik” seems to be a very noble name for the Turkish people living on the plains and the Yenissei area. In those women’s names, such as the one named Ässän Tegin in Document Sa29, according to the original photo, the name Ässän can be transcribed as assan since /ä/ and /a/ were basically the same vowel. If so, assan would be derived from the Muslim name hasan based on the assumption of A. von Gabain. The latter half of the sold female slave’s name was tigin, meaning ‘special agent’, which was an official name among the ancient nationalities that spoke Turkic. This was a common official Turkic name on the stone tablet in the seventh and eighth centuries. As to this female slave’s name, it was a combination of culture which was both Muslim and Turkic. This fact indicates that in the Turkicspeaking nationalities’ residential places, the Muslim culture also had a great influence on them. Those females from different nationalities and different castes were sold from place to place. In the meantime, they in one way or another served as the medium of eastern and western culture.

Benedek Péri

The Gender of the Beloved in One of Bayrâm Khan’s Chaghatay Gazels The key genre of Persianate classical poetical tradition is indisputably the gazel, a short lyrical poem that “makes known a poet’s skills and spreads his fame”, as Fuzûlî puts it in the prose introduction to his divan.1 Though not necessarily and not exclusively, the most often witnessed traditional subject of a gazel is love (ʿişk).2 Whether it is worldly (ʿişk-i mecâzî) or divine (ʿişk-i hakîkî), poets always take the role of the lover, the ʿâşik who hopelessly yearns for the attention of the evasive and often non-visible object of his desires. The identity and more specifically the gender of this mysterious character of Turkish gazels have intrigued scholars for years.3 A number of theories were put forward and a rather harsh debate began on the topic in Turkey a couple of years ago. Though the Turkish language does not have any linguistic gender markers, the imagery of amorous poetry carries a distinctly masculine character. The beloved is often depicted as a bloodthirsty young Turkish or Türkmen warrior who rides his horse very skillfully, unsheathes his sword and plays polo.4

1 Gazel bildürür şâʿirün kudretin Gazel arturur nâzımun şöhretin Fuzûlî, Türkçe Dîvan, Haz. İsmail Parlatır. (Ankara, 2012), p. 33. 2 İsmet Zeki Eyüboğlu, Divan şiirinde Sapık Sevgi. (İstanbul, 1968), p. 25. 3 For a general discussion of various types of beloveds in the Ottoman context see Walter G. Andrews and Mehmet Kalpaklı, The Age of Beloveds. Love and Beloved in Early-Modern Ottoman and European Culture and Society. (Durham and London, 2005), pp. 38–51. 4 Some examples are given here: Sekritip çıktı yana meydân sarı ol türk-i mest Tâ yana kaysı köngül mülkige kılgay türktâz ‘That intoxicated Turk cantering his horse rode towards the (battle)field, Which of the kingdoms of hearts is he going to charge in a Turkish manner?’ ʿAlī Şīr Nevāyī, Ġarāʾibü’ṣ-Ṣıġar. İnceleme-Karşılaştırmalı Metin, Hazırlayan: Günay Kut. (Ankara, 2003), p. 182. G222/V. Tang nesîmin sâyir etken gül-ʿizârımdur mening Sekritip meydânga kirgen şeh-süvârımdur menin ‘I have a rosy-cheeked (beloved) who makes the morning breeze wander, I have a royal knight who cantering his horse rode to the (battle)field.’ Nevāyī,Ġarāʾib, 278. G363/I. Benedek Péri, Department of Turkic Studies, Eötvös Loránd University, Budapest https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-015

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Turkish literary critics driven by some sort of shame first either ignored this fact and simply said that addressees of these poems were women,5 or claimed that since homoeroticism was against the nature of Turkic peoples, the whole phenomenon must have been of Persian origin, and as soon as Persian influence on the Ottoman gazel began fading women started to take the role of beloveds.6 Nevertheless, there were scholars who, basing their argumentation on poetic texts, very convincingly showed that quite a large number of classical gazels contained references to homoerotic relationships.7 When their views became generally accepted, literary critics, mainly of Turkish origin, started working out an explanation for this phenomenon. The focus of attention at this point shifted to another aspect of the issue, reviving an old scholarly debate. Is the love depicted in classical gazels human love, and thus these poems are erotic verses, expressions of carnal desires, or are they documents of an elevated spiritual state, the symbol of pure and selfless feelings, like platonic relationships between master and disciple or a devotee and God? This is an essential question and to answer it becomes an imperative, because if classical gazels are about devotion directed to God the gender of the beloved is not relevant any more. Most literary critics from Turkey seem to support the theory of platonic, chaste love today and though they admit that the imagery of gazel poetry

Baş koyar-men şükrdin kim kılmayın başımnı gûy Çâbüküm meydânga hergiz rahşını sekritmedi ‘I bow my head in gratitude, because without making a polo ball out of my head, My cavalier has never cantered his horse towards the polo ground.’ ʿAlī Şīr Nevāyī, Nevādirü’ş-şebāb, Hazırlayan Metin Karaörs. (Ankara, 2006), 599. G602/II. Merkebing cevlânıda başın Nevâyî kıldı gûy ʿIşk ara boldı ʿaceb ser-geştelikke mürtekib ‘Seeing your horse trotting around, Nevâyî made a polo ball out of his head, He has fallen in love and has mounted a weird bewilderment.’ ʿAlī Şīr Nevāyī, Badāyiʿul-Vasat. Üçünçi Dīvān, Hazırlayan Kaya Türkay (Ankara, 2002), p. 39. G51/VII. Ilge cevlân içre saldıng tîg yüz ming vây kim, Her kaçan yetting Nevâyî sarı ihmâl eyleding ‘You charged the people with sword in hand, alas, Whenever you reached near Nevâyî you showed indifference towards him.’ Nevāyī, Badāyiʿ, p. 271. G356/VII. 5 Cem Dilçin, “Divan şiirinde gazel,” Türk Dili. Türk şiiri Özel Sayısı (Divan şiiri) 415–416–417 (1986): 140. Ahmet Atilla Şentürk, XVI. asra kadar Anadolu sahası mesnevîlerinde edebî tasvirler (İstanbul, 2002), p. 263. 6 Mine Mengi, Divan şiiri yazıları (Ankara, 2000), p. 152. 7 Selim Kuru, “Naming of the Beloved in Ottoman Turkish Gazel. The Case of İshak Çelebi (d. 1537/38)” In: Thomas Bauer–Angelika Neuwirth (eds.): Ghazal as World Literature. From a Literary Genre to a Great Tradition. The Ottoman Gazel in Context (Würzburg, 2006), p. 163.

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would suggest a beautiful male beloved, they consider him an idealized person, an abstract character, a mirror of Creation whose gender is his least important attribute.8 One of the most interesting features of this academic discourse is that though most participants acknowledge the influence Persian literary tradition had on Ottoman poetry, they seem to forget how deep this influence was. In spite of the fact that Ottoman poets very often “measured their success in terms of Persian models”9 and meticulously followed and imitated Persian tradition, Turkish literary historians tend to consider the Ottoman poetical tradition a wholly separate and independent system and thus very rarely consult scholarly works on issues pertaining to Persian classical literature. If we take a look at scholarly works written on classical Persian poetry we’ll see that the beloved’s gender was a major issue in Persian literary criticism as well. The questions raised, the theories and explanations offered were very similar to those we witness in Ottoman literary history a few decades later.10

8 Ömer Faruk Akün, “Divan Edebiyatı,” In: TDV İslam Ansiklopedisi. Vol. 9. (İstanbul, 1994), 419. Ahmet Atilla Şentürk, „Klasik şiir estetiği,”In: Türk Edebiyatı Tarihi. Vol. 1. (İstanbul, 2006), 365–366. Hüseyin Gönel, “Divan şiirinde sevgiliye dair,” Turkish Studies 5/3 (2010): p. 211. 9 Talat S. Halman, “Rev. to Andrews, W. G.: An Introduction to Ottoman Poetry.” Minneapolis, Minesota and Chicago 1976, In: Talat S. Halman, The Turkish Muse. Views and Reviews (Syracuse (N.Y.), 2006), p. 78. The following couplets by one of the most eminant and prolific poets of the 16th century (Kânûnî) Sultân Süleymân (Muhibbî) comparing his poetic output to the works of the key figures in the classical Persian poetic canon, Amîr Husrev (1253–1325), Nizâmî Gancevî (1141–1209), H𝑣 âcû-yi Kirmânî (1281–1361), Selmân Sâveci (1300–1376), Hâfiz (1325–1392), Câmî (1414–1492) clearly indicate this point: Husrevâ gûş et Muhibbî şiʿrine eyle nazar Nazm tarzında Nizâmî maʿnîde H𝑣 âcû imiş ‘Listen Husrev and look at Muhibbî’s poem, They say it resembles Nizâmî’s poetry in form and H𝑣 âcû’s in content.’ Coşkun Ak: Muhibbi Divanı (Trabzon, 2006), p. 404 (G1291/V) Yine bir şîrîn gazel dedi Muhibbî zevk ile Okuyan der mülket-i Rûmun bugün Selmânıdur ‘With great pleasure has Muhibbî composed a sweet gazel again, Those who read it say he is Selmân today in the kingdom of Rûm.’ Ak: Muhibbi, 217 (G627/V) Husrev ü Hâfiz eder siʿr-i Muhibbî pesend Câmî tahsin ede ger görse bu nazm-ı Hasenüm ‘Husrev and Hâfiz acknowledge Muhibbî’s poem, If he sees my beautiful (Hasan like) poem, Câmî would also praise it.’ Ak: Muhibbi, p. 539 (G1803/V) 10 For the main theories see Julie Scott Meisami, Medieval Persian Court Poetry (Princeton, 1987), 245– 246.

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Now all critics seem to accept that the roots of this unmistakably masculine imagery go back to ancient Iranian courtly customs that were reinforced during the rule of the first Muslim Turkish dynasties, the Ghaznavids and the Seljuks.11 Drinking gatherings where music was played, poetry recited and beautiful young males, often of Turkish origin served the participants were quite common in courtly circles.12 These young slaves who were well-trained in various arts, music, literature and the art of warfare often became the objects of amorous advances as the relationship of the famous couple, Mahmûd and Ayâz clearly shows.13 Gazel as the main genre of Persian courtly love lyrics was born in this milieu. Its imagery first was a direct reflection of the atmosphere of courtly parties but gradually it became a highly conventionalized inventory of schematic images and commonplace expressions. This process was greatly aided by a core feature of classical gazel poetry. Creative ambiguity offering several ways of interpretation, blurring the lines between real and unreal, thus providing the receivers of a poetic text with an intellectually challenging enigma was considered the high poetic achievement poets strived for. The conventional and rigid character of the imagery used in classical gazel poetry can be best illustrated by the example of Urdu poetry. Similar to Ottoman, the Urdu gazel remained closely connected both in form and in content to its Persian roots for a long time. Pre-modern Urdu love lyrics were so heavily impregnated with Persian vocabulary and imagery that though the Urdu language has separate markers for the masculine and the feminine gender, in classical gazel all grammatical references to the beloved were in the masculine, even if the beloved was doubtlessly a woman.14 Indian literary critics trying to unravel the mysteries of masculinity present in the Urdu gazel produced explanations of this phenomenon very similar to those we have seen in the case of Ottoman poetry. While some of them said that masculine language was used to protect the dignity of the ladies addressed in the poems, others claimed that the language and imagery of classical gazels gave an ambiguity to the poems which opened the way to different levels of interpretation, and thus the reader could see in the poems both the expression of human and divine love.15 Nevertheless

11 Ibid, 248. 12 For the custom of courtly drinking parties, see Ihsan Yarshater, ”The Theme of Wine-Drinking and the Concept of the Beloved in Persian Poetry,”Studia Islamica 13 (1960): pp. 43–53. 13 For the famous couple of Mahmûd and Ayâz who became the symbol of pure and eternal love in Persianate literatures, see Helmut Ritter, The Ocean of the Soul: Man, the World, and God in the stories of Farīd ad-Dīn ʿAttār (Leiden, 2003), pp. 309–312. Annemarie Schimmel, The Triumphal Sun: A Study of the Works of Jalāloddin Rumi (Albany, 1993), pp. 188–189. Jalal Matīnī, „Ayāz, Abu’l-Najm,” In: Encyclopaedia Iranica. http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/ayaz-abul-najm-b Accessed: 22 October 2013. 14 Choudhri Mohammed Naim, “Homosexual (Pederastic) Love in Pre-Modern Urdu Poetry,” In: Choudhri Mohammed Naim, Urdu Texts and Contexts. The Selected Essays of C. M. Naim (New Delhi, 2004), p. 21. 15 Ibid, p. 23.

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the latest scholarly studies on the subject suggest that the true gender or the true identity of the beloved has in a lot of cases nothing to do with the masculine imagery of Urdu gazels. It is simply an essential and inseparable part of a conventional system borrowed ready-made from the Persian poetic tradition.16 Indigenous sources suggest that this explanation might be valid in the case of the classical Turkish gazel as well. Poetic anthologies, tezkires indicate that behind the mask of conventional imagery various types of beloveds are concealed. These texts are our main sources for poets’ lives, providing us with the details of their amorous liaisons. They are an endless source of anecdotes depicting poets falling in love with flesh and blood human beings and stories of dervish-turned poets, who shunned such worldly attachments. It is certain that in a lot of cases their love affairs with women or beardless boys, or their spiritual quest were the main sources for inspiration and their human or divine beloveds became the heroes of their poems. The main difficulty hindering the precise interpretation of these love poems is closely connected to the way most of them were handed down to us. Though they might contain factual references to the real identity of the beloved, these gazels were organized into dîvâns, collections of poems composed by the same author and thus they were separated from their original context.17 Nevertheless, there are some rare cases when historical sources help us reconstruct the true story underlying a given gazel. Bayrâm Hân (d. 1561) was one of the most influential nobles at Humayûn’s court, a Baharlu Türkmen by origin. He later became the tutor and prime minister of his heir, Akbar. He was a talented statesman and soldier who is aptly termed the second founder of the Mughal Empire.18 He was also an acknowledged poet who according to one of his contemporaries “composed a divân in Persian and Turkî which is in every hand, as his verses are on every tongue”.19 It is interesting that in spite of his alleged fame as a poet his poetic achievements are not recorded in Mughal tezkires.20

16 For a most enlightening comparative analysis of the imagery and vocabulary of ‘standard’ gazels and rekhti gazels written by Indian female poets see Ruth Vanita, „Gender, Language, and Genre: Hindus, Muslims, Men, Women, and Lesbian Love in Nineteenth-century Rekhti Poetry,”In: Ruth Vanita, Gandhi’s Tiger and Sita’s Smile. Essays on Gender, Sexuality and Culture (New Delhi, 2005), pp. 108–110. 17 De Bruijn, J. T. P.: Persian Sufi Poetry. An Introduction to the Mystical Use of Poems. Richmond 1997, p. 56. 18 For the most detailed account of his life see Sukumar Ray, Bairam Khan (Karachi, 1992). 19 Sir Thomas Wolseley Haig (trans.), The Muntakhabu-t’-Tawârîkh by ʿAbdu-l’-Qâdir Ibn-i-Mulûk Shâh known as al-Badâonî, vol. 3 (Calcutta, 1925), p. 265. Bayrâm Hân’s full dîvân consisting of Persian and Turkish verses was published twice. Denison Ross, Persian and Turki Diwans of Bairam Khan (Calcutta, 1910); Husamuddin Rashdi and Muhammed Sabir (eds), Diwan of Bayrâm Khan (Karachi, 1971). The Turkish poems were published seperately twice. ʿAbd ul-Mecîd Turan, Muhammed Bayrâm Hanhanan: Türkmen Halknıng Böyük şahsiyet ve şâʿiri, (n.p., 1378), Münevver Tekcan, Bayrâm Han’ın Türkçe Divanı (İstanbul, 2007). 20 Chandpuri, K.: Muhammad Bairam Khan Turkman, Delhi (?) 1931, p. 20.

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Bayrâm Hân, like many other poets of his age composed poems in almost all important lyric genres. He wrote kasîdes, rubâʿîs, kitʿas, a short mesnevî on the succesful siege of Kandahâr, but most of all he composed gazels. Some of these are poetic answers (cevâbs or nazîres) to the poems of earlier poets, but since he despised imitations and looked down upon poets who wrote paraphrases, the majority of his thirty eight Persian and more than fifty Turkish gazels reflect his inventive creativity.21 His paraphrases inspired by the poems of Kemâl-i Hucendî, Câmî, Gedâyî, Bâbur and others clearly show that he was not only well-read in the classics, but he was well-versed in the art of poetic composition as well. His real talent lies not in the originality of his imagination but in his ability to rearrange and adapt conventional images, traditional elements, set phrases in a unique way and in accordance with his poetic aims.22 His Turkish gazel written for the rhyme -ûl and the redîf -dûr, a typical Bayrâmian piece, bears witness to Bayrâm Hân’s poetic credo very well.23 The rhyme Bayrâm Hân chose for his poem, perhaps due to the relatively limited options the words ending in -ûl offer, is not a very popular one. Only a handful of Persian and Turkish gazels, including poems of Amîr Husrev,24 Câmî,25 Gedâyî26 and Nevâyî,27 were composed on this rhyme and most of them are built on the same rhyme words. As for the refrain -dur, the Turkish generalizing modality marker can of course never occur as a redîf in Persian poetry but it is a frequently used refrain in Turkish

21 He says of himself: Imrûz şâʿirân-i digar az kamâl-i cahl Az şiʿr-i mustaʿâr na-dârand nang u ʿâr Aşʿâr-i banda çun digarân mustaʿâr nîst Dâram hazâr ʿâr zi aşʿâr-i mustaʿâr ‘Out of sheer ignorance poets nowadays, Are not ashamed of borrowed lines. Verses of this servant are not borrowed like the verses of others, Because I would be ashamed if I borrowed verses.’ Rashdi and Sabir, Diwan of Bayrâm Khan, p. 12. 22 Schimmel sees a great difference between the poetic value of Bayrâm Hân’s Persian and Turkish verses. She labels the Persian poems rather conventional and considers Bayrâm’s Turkish verses more expressive. Schimmel, A.: Islamic Literatures of India. (A History of Indian Literature), (Wiesbaden, 1973), p. 25. 23 Tekcan, Bayrâm Han’ın Türkçe Divanı, p. 133. 24 Dîvân-i Amîr Husrev Dihlavî, Tartîb u tahzîb: Daktar Anvâr ul-Hasan (Lakhnav, 1967), p. 607 (G1194). The metre of the poem is remel-i müsemmen-i mahzûf (- x - - | - x - - | - x - - | - x -). 25 Dîvân-i Câmî, Ba-ihtimâm-i Husayn Pazhmân (Tihrân, 1939), p. 161. The metre of the poem is remel-i müsemmen-i mahbûn (- x - - | x x - - | x x - - | x x -). 26 Gedâyî composed two gazels to the rhyme -ûl. The metre of both gazels is remel-i müsemmen-i mahzûf (- x - - | - x - - | - x - - | - x -). Gadoiy, Devon, Nashrga tayyorlovchi Erkin Ahmadxo’jaev (Toshkent, 1973), pp. 86, 87. 27 Nevāyī, Ġarāʾib, 296–297 (G388). The metre of the poem is remel-i müsemmen-i mahzûf (- x - - | - x - - | - x - - | - x -).

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classical gazels. The metre is muzāriʿ-i müsemmen-i mekfûf-i mahzûf (- - x | - x - x | x - x | - x - ), a metre that is more often met with in Persian gazels than in Turkish ones. In his choice Bayrâm might have been influenced by the gazels of Saʿdî and H𝑣 âcû-yi Kirmânî who composed poems on the very same rhyme and the very same metre.28 The rhyme words Bayrâm picked for his gazel seem to confirm this theory. Out of the five rhyme words he used, four (kabûl, resûl, fuzûl, melûl) are also present in both of the Persian poets’ pieces. Nevertheless, Bayrâm’s poem is not a paraphrase and not only because of the refrain. All three gazels are ʿâşikâne (amorous) in mood, but while the identity of the beloved in both H𝑣 âcû’s and Saʿdî’s poem is ambiguous, and the reader feels that they are poems expressing divine rather than human love, the beloved Bayrâm addressed in his gazel is definitely a flesh and blood human being, a descendant of the Prophet Muhammad. Who is the hero of the poem? Is it possible to identify him or her? Bayrâm Hân’s short gazel consists of only five couplets and appears to be a very simple piece of poetry at first sight. Like most of his other poems, it is full of stereotyped, conventional images and set phrases which are part of the genre’s routine.29 Still, it contains useful clues hinting at the most important characteristics of the person praised. The first two couplets are dominated by a semantic field centered around the concept of Islamic spirituality as represented by the Prophet’s family (âl-i resûl or ehl-i beyt). We learn from the first couplet that the beloved is a seyyid, a member of this exalted family: Ol serv-kad ki seyyid-i ehl-i kabûldur Gül-dek yüzi nişânı Âl-i Resûldur ‘That cypress-bodied person is a seyyid from among those people who are accepted, His/her rose like cheeks are the sign of the Prophet’s family.’30

A good example how poets tried to make use of the homonym pair but avoided using them as a tevriye in connection with the Prophet’s family can perhaps be best illustrated by a couplet of the 16th century Ottoman poet ʿUbeydî:

28 H𝑣 âcû-yi Kirmânî, Dîvân-i aşʿâr. Ba-ihtimām u tashîh-i Ahmad Suhaylî H𝑣 ânsârî (Tihrân, n. d., 717. Kulliyât-i Saʿdî. Bar asâs-i nusha-yi Muhammad ʿAlî Furûgî (Tihrân, 1388), p. 447. 29 Nabi Hadi, Dictionary of Indo-Persian Literature (New Delhi, 1995), p. 306. 30 The second hemistich sounds very awkward and it is not easy to decipher its meaning. The syntactic structure of the utterance is hard to recognize perhaps because Bayrâm could not resist the temptation and inserted a wordplay (tevriye) based upon the Persian-Turkish homonym pair âl ‘family’ — al ‘red’ into the line and thus sacrificed the clarity of meaning for a highly dubious poetic achievement. Not only does the pun spoil the structure of the hemistich, rendering it hardly understandable, but it does not suit the context either. The connection between the notions ‘red’ and ‘rose’ on the one hand and ‘red’ and ‘cheeks’ on the other is strong and clear but the colour of the Prophet’s and ʿAlî’s family has nothing to do with ‘red’ because traditionally it is green. This lapse would explain why poets avoided using this wordplay with reference to Muhammed and his descendants. For the full text of the poem see Appendix.

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Gark-ı hûn edüp misâl-ı lâle-i âl etdiler Hey meded sencileyin âl-ı Resûl-ı Ekremi ‘They made them like red tulips, immersing them in blood, Help! They made the same to you, most graceful family of the Prophet.’31

The second couplet further elaborates the lineage of the beloved. Through mentioning the names of Muhammad’s daughter Fâtima (Betûl, the ‘Virgin’) and her husband, the fourth caliph ʿAlî (Murtezâ, the ‘Chosen One’) the couplet suggests that the beloved belongs to the Alid branch of the family: Hem ʿârızı gül-i çemen-ârây-i Murtezâ Hem kâmeti nihâl-i riyâz-i Betûldur His/her face is a rose adorning the lawn of Murtezâ His/her body is a sappling from the garden of Betûl.

Perhaps it is not a far fetched assumption to assert that the beloved was a shiite like Bayrâm Hân and most members of his military escort. The use of the term seyyid, a masculine noun, might also be interpreted as a hint to his sex, but since the feminine form of the word, seyyida is hardly used in gazels, we still can not be sure whether the beloved is a he or a she. The first two couplets, besides providing us with specific references to his/her ancestry, call our attention to the main characteristics of the beloved. The beloved is, like many other beloveds of Persianate gazel poetry, cypress-bodied (serv-kadd) and rosy cheeked. And as is expected he/she is young. At least this is what the phrase nihâl-i riyâz-i Betûl ‘sappling from the garden of Fâtima’ suggests. These topoi of Persianate classical poetry however, when viewed in the present context where they occur together with references to ʿAlî, Fâtima and the beloved’s Alid lineage, convey a deeper message, and in those who are acquainted with Shiite literature they evoke the images of the Shiite martyrs of Kerbela. Authors of religious texts relating the martyrdom of Shiite “saints” often characterize Hüseyin and his comrades with phrases very similar to those we read in Bayrâm’s poem. They are described with phrases often used in classical poetry to depict the beloved of ʿâşikâne gazels.32

31 Bünyamin Çağlayan, Kerbelâ Mersiyeleri (Doktora Tezi, Gazi Üniversitesi, Ankara, 1997), p. 87. 32 Yûsuf-i Meddâh, the author of one of the earliest texts in Turkish that relate the tragic events of Kerbela turns to Hüseyn with the following words: N’ideyim ey serv-i bustânum benüm Ey yüzi görkli gülistânum benüm What shall I do, Cypress of my garden, My beautiful faced rose garden? Kenan Özçelik, Yûsuf-i Meddâh ve Maktel-i Hüseyn (İnceleme–Metin–Sözlük). Yüksek Lisans Tezi (Ankara, 2008), p. 202.

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Hayretî (d. 1534) depicts Hüseyin as a primaturely cut down graceful cypress and as a jolly rosebud in his kasîde commemorating the battle of Kerbela. Nâz ile şîve ile kesildi salınmadan Bâg-i cihânda serv-i hırâmân yâ Hüseyn They did not let him sway elegantly, he was cut down, He was the gracefully walking cypress of the garden of the world, Hüseyin! Yıllar geçer ki gülmez acılmaz gül-i tarî Pür-hûn derûn-ı gonca-i handân yâ Hüseyn ‘Years will pass and the dark rose will not laugh, will not open, The jolly bud is full of blood, Hüseyin!’33

Phrases very similar to those Bayrâm uses in his poem can be met with in Fuzûlî’s (1487–1556) Hadikat üs-süʿedâ where the author describes the martyrdom of the twelve year-old ʿAlî-yi Akbar, son of Hüseyin. Dirîgâ ki nihâl-ı nevres-i imâmet izhâr-ı şükûfe kılup çemen-ârâ-yı bûstân-ı vilâyet olmuş iken serser-i hizân-ı fenâdan şikest buldu. ‘Alas! The wild wind of the autumn of destruction broke the young sapling of imâmet, that had freshly blossomed and had become the adornment of the garden of vilâyet.’34

Physical beauty in their case is the outward expression of the inner, the spiritual beauty. The poetic imagery applied in portraying the martyrs as beautiful young people, ideal human beings serves to highlight their exalted spiritual status and their nearness to God. Bayrâm mentions one more important quality of the beloved when he says that he/she is from among the ‘people of acceptance’ (ehl-i kabûl). The noun phrase ehl-i kabûl is very rarely met with in classical Persian-Turkish poetic texts but these few occurrences might help us to determine its exact meaning.35 A rather unconventional kasîde composed by Fuzûlî (1487–1556), a contemporary of Bayrâm and a key figure in the history of 16th century Azeri and Ottoman poetry, relates the story how the poet realized that drinking wine is a sin and it is against God’s will. In the course of the story Fuzûlî comes across a group of people who are having a wine party in a garden. First the poet refers to them as ervâh-ı kuds (‘holy

33 Hayretî, Dîvân, Hazîrlayan: Mehmet Çavuşoğlu and Ali Tanyeri, (İstanbul, 1981), p. 11. 34 Fuzûlî: Hadikat üs-süʿedâ, In: Məhəmməd Füzuli əsərləri Altı Cilddə. vol. 6. Tərtib edəni Əlyar Səfərli (Bakı, 2005), p. 324. 35 For a detailed analysis of the poem see Benedek Péri, „Egy borissza költő megtérése: Egy XVI. századi török megtérésnarratíva (The conversion of a wine drinking poet. A 16th century conversion narrative),” In: Déri Balázs (szerk.): Conversio: Az Eötvös Loránd Tudományegyetem Bölcsészettudományi Karán 2011. szeptember 22—23-án tartott vallástudományi konferencia előadásai (Budapest, 2013), pp. 189–198.

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spirits’) and later on as ehl-i kabûl.36 It is quite evident from the text that the members of the group occupy an exalted spiritual status but it is not very clear whether they are angels or saintly men. The phrase also occurs in a gazel written by Nevâyî, the founder of the classical Chaghatay poetic canon, whose poetry served as a model for Bayrâm Hân as well: Ay Nevâyî kıldılar dünyânı red ehl-i kabûl Ger deseng makbûl olay yâr olma bu merdûd ile Nevâyî ‘The people of acceptance have rejected this world, If you wish to be accepted do not be part of this rejected entity.’37

Ehl-i kabûl in Nevâyî’s couplet quite evidently refers to those human beings who renounce worldly matters and in return God accepts them and their devotion. In another couplet also by Nevâyî the concept of ehl-i kabûl comes up again, but this time the poet uses the Turkish version of the phrase: kabûl ehli: Kabûl ehli kaşında isteseng makbûl bolgaysen Fenâ ikbâlı birle evvel özni eylegil kâbil ‘If you want to be accepted by the accepted people, Make yourself worthy through attaining the blessed state fenâ.’38

Fenâ, or the ‘annihilation in God’ is a key term in Sufism, referring to the ultimate stage of spiritual quest a devotee can reach.39 Nevâyî’s couplet tells us that only those may have hope to be accepted by and accepted into fenâ ehli who have reached this final stage of the spiritual journey, implying that all those who can be referred to as part of the ehl-i kabûl have already done so. Nevertheless, it seems that less exalted and more worldly achievements might also be enough for membership into a group also termed ehl-i kabûl by Nevâyî. In his mesnevî titled Hayret ül-Ebrâr he devotes a couple of pages to the vices and virtues of the “people of the pen” whom he divides into two groups: Gerçi bu neçe cadad boldı redd Ehl-i kabûl oldı bu neçe cadad ‘Though these are rejected, These others have become part of the ehl-i kabûl.’40

The first group consists of those educated people who misuse their knowledge and power for material gains, like crooked clerks working for judges or wicked muftis writ36 Fuzûlî, Türkçe Divan, p. 163. 37 Nevâyî, Ġarāʾib, p. 410 (G555/VII). 38 Nevâyî, Nevâdir, p. 372 (G373/VIII). 39 For fenâ see F. Rahman, “Bakâ”, in: Encyclopaedia of Islam, vol. 1 (Leiden, 1986), p. 951. 40 Alisher Navoiy, Hayratul-Abror (Toshkent, 1989), pp. 125–132. The couplet quoted above is on page 130.

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ing fake fetvas. The other group is made up of learned men whose writings are sources of consolation, comfort, joy or entertainment for others. Though the conduct of the people termed ehl-i kabûl is morally good and as such it might earn their acceptance by God, their deeds are unquestionably directed towards the welfare of human beings and thus when viewed in the context of spirituality, they are very far from the state of fenâ. Still on the basis of our literary texts we might say that people who are considered to belong to the ehli-i kabûl are dear to God in some respect; either because they have already reached a spiritually advanced state or because they behave in accordance with their high moral standards. The beloved in Bayrâm’s gazel, we might conclude, is thus someone who is favoured by God. This special relationship or nearness to God is further highlighted in the fourth couplet where Bayrâm claims that the love of the beloved is the most perfect form of God’s grace (kemâl-i faz-i ilâhî): Mihri kemâl-i fazl-i ilâhi durur velî Ol fazl kayda kâbil-i her bu’l-fuzûldur His/her love is the most perfect form of God’s grace, How could a busybody be worthy of this grace?

Bayrâm once again depicts the beloved as an extraordinary character, as someone who, in a spiritual sense, is above ordinary human beings. He/she is shown here as a kind of intermediary between the human and the transcendental universe, transmitting God’s grace through his love to the few chosen ones. The love of the beloved is thus something special. It is not like ordinary human love, so it is no wonder that a talkative poet, a busybody (bû’l-fuzûl) like Bayrâm is not worthy of it. Bayrâm very carefully chooses the word he uses to denote love. From a metrical point of view there is no difference between mihr and ʿaşk, the word that is generally used for love in traditional gazel poetry. Nevertheless, since mihr also means ‘sun’, when it is skilfully used in a suitable context it has a much higher poetical potential. By consciously using the word mihr in connection with the beloved’s love Bayrâm resorts to a much used simile of lyrical poetry and actually likens him/her to the radiating Sun that spreads light and warmth into the world. Through the system of elaborate allusions that serves to highlight the beloved’s sublime character and exalted spiritual status Bayrâm raises the beloved to almost heavenly heights. He/she is shown as an almost celestial being whose earthly, human qualities like his/her gender are not relevant any more. But as it has been referred to before, the beloved of Bayrâm’s poem is a flesh and blood human being, so perhaps it is possible to identify him/her. The qualities the hitherto mentioned do not bring us closer to this aim, but it should be noted that the word kabûl occurs four times in the poem and three of these four occurrences are within one couplet. Moreover, the word is used as a rhyme word twice.

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Repetition (tekrâr) is a common figure of speech in classical rhetorics (ʿilm-i belâgat). It is often applied in gazels with the purpose to highlight the core concept, the unifying theme of a poem, so it is not without reason to suggest that by repeating the word kabûl four times within the same gazel, Bayrâm Hân wished to convey an important message and tried to allude to an essential feature of the beloved. The poem however does not provide the reader with any further information on the subject. Luckily enough 16th century Mughal sources seem to supply the much needed pieces of the puzzle. The hero of the story that might help us to identify the beloved of the poem was a Baharlu Türkmen, like Bayrâm Hân himself and was perhaps a distant relative of his. Şâh-kulı, who started his career in the service of Bayrâm earned his fame in the second battle of Panipat, one of the most decisive encounters of early Mughal history, where he captured Hemu, the enemy commander. Though he would have deserved a promotion, he received none, perhaps because he “had yet to rise to the heights of political power and laudation”.41 Anyway, he entered imperial service only after the death of his patron, Bayrâm Hân.42 Şâh-kulı’s successful career as a soldier and imperial administrator lasted for more than four decades. From 1561 until his death he held high offices and passed away as one of the highest ranking officials of the empire and fief holder of Narnaul, now in Haryana State, in 1601.43 As the few lines in Abû l-Fazl’s Akbar-nâme indicate, his contemporaries had a very favourable opinion of him: He had an abundant share of courage and honesty, and kept a youthful heart in old age. He was continually on horseback and enjoying the pleasures of the chase.

His loyal nature and bravery made a great impression on the emperor as well, who called him Mahram, ‘intimate friend’.44 Except for a few rare instances, he never fell out of royal favour. One of the events that caused royal disapproval was his infamous

41 Usman Hamid, Early Timurid-Mughal Politics and Historiography: a case study of a little known amīr, Shāh Qulī Khān Mahram (952–1010/1545–1601) (MA Thesis McGill University, Montreal, 2011), p. 20. 42 According to Keval Ram, Şâh-kulı received his mansab and title in the 5th year of Akbar’s reign (March 12, 1560 – March 10, 1561). Azizuddin Husain (transl.), Tazkiratul-Umara of Kewal Ram. The History of Nobles from Akbar to Aurangzeb’s Reign 1556–1707 A. D., New Delhi 1985, p. 96. 43 Şâh-kulı received the rank of çehâr hezârî in 1595–96 and somewhat later he was promoted to the rank of penc hezârî. (M. Athar Ali, The Apparatus of Empire. Awards of Ranks, Offices and Titles to the Mughal Nobility (1574–1658) (Delhi, 1985), pp. 20, 29). He had his home in Narnaul for forty years and had a couple of buildings erected in the city. He had his tomb built in 1574–75 and had a pavilion and a gateway constructed. Jal Mahal and the surrounding tank was finished in 1589–90. Catherine B. Asher, Architecture of Mughal India, New Cambridge History of India, vol. 1/4 (Cambridge, 2001), 82–85; Ghulam Yazdani, “Narnaul and its Buildings,” Journal & Proceedings of the Asiatic Society of Bengal New Series 3 (1907), p. 582. 44 For the story relating how he received his lakab see Shaykh Farid Bhakkari, Dhakhirat al-Khawanin (Persian Text) vol. 1. Edited by Syed Moinul Haq (Karachi 1970), p.181; Şâhnavâz Hân, Ma’âsir ul-umarâ, vol. 2. Edited by Mavlavî ʿAbd ul-Rahîm (Kalkata, 1890), p. 607.

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love affair. According to the Akbar-nâme, he fell in love with a young dancer boy in 1558, but as Akbar did not approve of this kind of conduct in any of his servants, for though it may be pure, yet there are improprieties mixed up with it which sensible men well know, he prohibited it. Şâh-kulı could not give up the practice, and so it was ordered that the boy should be taken from him and turned over to guards. Şâh-kulı Hân owing to the burden of humanity gave way to anguish and set fire to his name and fame. He put on the dress of a yogi, and sought retirement. Bayrâm Hân recited an ode (a gazel) to comfort him and tried to amend him. He came back to his allegiance to the şâhinşâh and was ashamed of what he had done; and he was treated with endless favours.45

Unfortunately Abû’ l-Fazl does not say anything else about the poem. It is not even known whether it was in Persian or in Turkish. Nevertheless considering Şâh-kulı’s lack of a sophisticated education and the very close and very personal relationship of Bayrâm Hân and Şâh-kulı, we might suppose that the poem was not an ornate piece richly embellished with elaborate poetic images and difficult rhetoric tropes, and probably it was written in Turkish, the mother tongue of both the poet and the addressee. Now, the question is obvious: does this story have anything to do with Bayrâm Hân’s above mentioned gazel? For a (hopefully) viable answer we should turn to the Akbar-nâme once again because Abû’ l-Fazl who was not only a keen observer but an accurate narrator as well, supplies us with two more important pieces of information on the boy. We can learn from his account that the boy was a very skilled professional dancer. Bayrâm Hân’s Turkish poetry however does not contain any references or allusions to dancer boys. The other piece of data the Akbar-nâme provides is the name of the dancer. This piece of information proves most essential because it seems to bind the story of Şâhkulı’s amorous liaison to Bayrâm Hân’s poem. Abû’ l-Fazl starts Şâh-kulı’s story with the following words (q. v.): One of the strange occurrences was Şâh-kulı Mahram’s becoming a yogi and hermit. There was a boy with him named Kabûl Hân who knew how to dance and whom he loved.

The chronicler’s words make everything clear and now it is easy to comprehend why Bayrâm Hân allotted a key position to the word kabûl in his poem, why he chose a rare and difficult rhyme, why the poem is a rather simple piece of verse without too many tropes, and last but not least why the poet describes the beloved using an imagery evoking the images of Shiite saints. The case of this poem and the connecting story very convincingly show that without additional information gathered from other sources, basing our argumentation

45 Henry Beveridge (transl.), The Akbar Nama of Abu-l-Fazl, vol. 2 (New Delhi, 1993), p. 121. For the Persian text see Abû’l-Fazl ʿAllâmî, Akbar-nâma, vol. 2. Edited by Maulavî ’Abd-ur-Rahîm (Kolkata, 1876), p. 79.

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solely on a text detached from its context, in most cases it is impossible to ascertain the identity and the gender of the beloveds described in classical gazels.

Appendix: Bayrâm Hân’s gazel composed to console Şāh-kulı Ol serv-kad ki seyyid-i ehl-i kabûldur Gül-dek yüzi nişânı Âl-i Resûldur That cypress-bodied person is a seyyid from among people of acceptance, His rose-like cheeks are the sign of the Prophet’s family. Hem ʿârızı gül-i çemen-ârây-i Murtazâ Hem kâmeti nihâl-i riyâz-i Betûldur His face is a rose adorning the lawn of Murtezâ His body is a sappling from the garden of Betûl Başıngnı ber dese kılayın cân bile kabûl Ehl-i kabûl her ne buyursa kabûldur Should he say: — Give me your head! I oblige with pleasure, Should members of the ehl-i kabûl wish for anything, you must oblige. Mihri kemâl-i fazl-i ilâhi durur velî Ol fazl kayda kâbil-i her bu’l-fuzûldur His/her love is the most perfect form of God’s grace, How could a busybody be worthy of this grace? Bayrâm ki gayr bezm-i visâlıda şâd emes Hergiz visâl bezmide ermes melûldur Bayrâm is happy only at the banquet, of his presence, If he is not there, he is sad.

Katharina Sabernig

Gender Related Symptoms in Tibetan Medical Practice Abstract In the year 2000 I recorded anonymous patient data from 355 medical consultations with monks, which took place at the Hospital of Tibetan Medicine at Kumbum Monastery (sku vbum byams pa gling)1 in China’s Qinghai province. An initial evaluation gave the impression that male patients visited the doctor almost as frequently as female. Both genders would consult the Tibetan doctor mainly for gastrointestinal troubles, such as stomach discomfort and the like. A closer look at the symptoms described to the physician during consultations disclosed that the men and women presented their various medical problems in a markedly different way. (It should be noted at this point that, usually, a patient was not in an anonymous atmosphere during consultations but in the same room as other patients; men and women, neighbours and foreigners alike could listen to the conversations.) Men primarily tended to visit the hospital in order to ask for another batch of medicine for their wives, usually followed by a nondescript request to have their own pulse checked as they might eventually need some medicine. Male patients hardly ever mentioned mental depression or social problems; whereas women had a strong tendency to set their physical troubles into an emotional context. Women suffered from pain such as headaches or complained about heart diseases and other heart-related sensations twice as often as men, while men generally presented less specific but sometimes more severe symptoms to the doctor. Women hardly ever talked about skin or kidney problems, while a striking number of male patients explicitly did. The following paper is a preliminary study of gender-related signs, symptoms and diseases described to monk-physicians from Kumbum Monastery with a focus on the specific circumstances there, such as life-style, working conditions and systems of communication.

1 The transliteration used in this paper is the Wylie system with the exception that “v” is used instead of apostrophe for va chung (cf.: Balk 2005). Katharina Sabernig, Medical University of Vienna https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-016

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Introduction How can one define “gender-related symptoms” in Tibetan medical practice? Is there a difference between such symptoms in the context of public health in biomedicine on the one hand and Tibetan medicine on the other? What do we know about gender in Tibetan medicine? Who practices the science of healing (gso ba rig pa) and to what degree do questions of gender matter? The first two questions are the main topic of this paper. Before going into detail on these themes, the other two questions should be briefly addressed. Publications on gender in Tibetan medicine are limited in number but fairly impressive in content. Examples include the book Women in Tibet, edited by Janet Gyatso and Hanna Havnevik2 , which deals with women from the perspective of different fields of Tibetan studies; and an article entitled “Outstanding Women in Tibetan Medicine” by Tashi Tsering.3 Makley wrote a book entitled Gender and Tibetan Buddhist Revival in post Mao-China which mainly deals with gender related questions encountered in everyday life in Amdo, but medical issues are barely touched.4 Diemberger wrote about the remarkable story of a woman who became the first in a long line of female religious leaders.5 A large number of Sianna Craig’s publications deal with different aspects of women’s lives, such as pregnancy and childbirth.6 In her recent book Healing Elements: Efficacy and the Social Ecologies of Tibetan Medicine7 various female consultations with Tibetan medical practitioners are described; (they square well with similar observations I made during my own studies). Theresia Hofer referred to “Socio-Economic Dimensions of Tibetan Medicine” depicting biographies and daily lives of various practitioners, including women, thereby relating symptoms to much of the social change that occurred in the twentieth century.8 The philology of language

2 Janet Gyatso and Hanna Havnevik (editors), Women in Tibet (New York: Columbia University Press. 2005). 3 Tashi Tsering, “Outstanding Women in Tibetan Medicine”. In Women in Tibet. Edited by J. Gyatso and H. Havnevik (New York: Columbia University Press, 2005), p. 169–94. 4 Charlene Makley, The Violence of Liberation: Gender and Tibetan Buddhist Revival in Post-Mao China (Berkely/Los Angeles/London: University of California Press, 2007). 5 Hildegard Diemberger, When a Woman Becomes a Religious Dynasty: The Samding Dorje Phagmo of Tibet (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007). 6 Sianna Craig, “Pregnancy and Childbirth in Tibet: Knowledge, Perspectives and practices.” In Childbirth across Cultures. Edited by H. Selin (New York: Springer, 2009), 145–160; Sianna Craig, “Migration, Social Change, Health, and the Realm of the Possible: Women Stories from Nepal to New York.” Anthropology and Humanism 36(2) (2011a): p. 196–214.; Sianna Craig, “Not found in Tibetan Society: Culture, Childbirth and a Politics of Life on the Roof of the World.” Himalaya 30(1–2) (2011b): 101–114. 7 Sianna Craig: Efficacy and the Social Ecologies of Tibetan Medicine. Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 2012a. 8 Theresia Hofer, “Socio-Economic Dimensions of Tibetan Medicine in the Tibet Autonomous Region, China: Part One.” Asian Medicine: Tradition and Modernity (4:1) (2008a): 174–200; Theresia Hofer,

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in Tibetan medical literature has been examined by Janet Gyatso, who documented spelling mistakes and other gender-related aspects.9 A valuable publication was recently edited by Heidi Fjeld and Theresia Hofer,10 which assembles a wide range of contributions that relate to gender: medical illustrations, reproduction and family planning, healthcare for children, astrology, and literature on menstruation. These matters are discussed comprehensively. Although this overview is not complete, it is clear that researchers are beginning to focus on gender more frequently in the field of Tibetan medicine. Turning to the question of who practices the science of healing and what they do, Theresia Hofer’s dissertation is most instructive.11 A few words should also be said about the situation in the hospital where I was allowed to make my studies and take patient data. Kumbum monastery, one of the largest Gelugpa monasteries in Tibet, had only monks working in its Tibetan hospital. Yet even conservative institutions like this were embracing modern times. The hospital was ready to invite a young nun from a smaller monastery for training in order to broaden her practical knowledge in preparing medicines. This is remarkable as in former times it seems to have been difficult for women to learn Tibetan medicine at an institutional level. Nevertheless, it should be noted that some woman did become famous healers in historical retrospection;12 however, on the whole medical education was so closely linked to monastic education in the pre-modern era that only a small percentage of worldly aristocrats or village healers were trained in medicine, usually within certain kinship relations or lineage successions.13 It was also hard to find examples of women amongst the lay practitioners. In the context of embryology, Fjeld and Hofer refer to a medical doctrine which connects gender with a specifically patrilineal transmission of knowledge.14 It may be added here that the Rgyud bzhi, the central treatise of Tibetan medicine, makes

“Socio-Economic Dimensions of Tibetan Medicine in the Tibet Autonomous Region, China: Part Two.” Asian Medicine: Tradition and Modernity (4:2) (2008b): 492–514; Theresia Hofer. Tibetan Medicine on the Margins: Twentieth Century Transformations of the Traditions of Sowa Rigpa in Central Tibet. (PhDDissertation. London: University College, 2011); Theresia Hofer, “Changing Representations of the Tibetan Woman Doctor Khandro Yangkar (1907–1973).” in Buddhist Himalaya: Studies in Religion, History and Culture, Proceedings of the Golden Jubilee Conference of the Namgyal Institute of Tibetology: Gangtok, 2008. Vol 1: Tibet and the Himalaya, edited by Alex McKay, Anna Balikci-Denjongpa. Gangtok, Sikkim: Namgyal Institute of Tibetology, 2011b, 99–121. 9 Janet Gyatso, “Spelling Mistakes, Philology, and Feminist Criticism: Women and Boys in Tibetan Medicine.” In Tibetan Studies in Honor of Samten Karmay. Edited by Françoise Pommaret and JeanLuc Achard. Dharamsala Amnye Machen Institute, 2009, 81–98. 10 Heidi Fjeld and Theresia Hofer (editors), Woman and Gender in Tibetan Medicine. Asian Medicine: Tradition and Modernity (6:2) 2010–2011. 11 Theresia Hofer. Medicine on the Margins: Twentieth Century Transformations of the Traditions of Sowa Rigpa in Central Tibet. (PhD diss., London University College, 2011a). 12 Cf.: Tashi Tsering, Outstanding Women; Theresia Hofer, Changing Representations, 2011b. 13 Fjeld and Hofer, Woman and Gender, 181. 14 Ibid.

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the following statement in its relevant chapter: “The semen (khu ba) of the father generates the bones, brain and the central channel, the menstrual blood (zla mtshan) of the mother generates flesh, blood and organs.”15 While patrilineal “bone lineage” is regarded as stable and permanent, matrilineal “flesh lineage” is considered to be less continuous, hence basically circumstantial. Male relatives are given preference when it comes to continuing a certain lineage — with the term used here in the commonly accepted sense that lineage means transmission of knowledge.16 Even within the scope of the remarkable revitalisation of Tibetan medicine in China, books compiling biographies of famous physicians very seldom mention women.17 As I have seen during my numerous visits in recent years, many young women in the region today see a vocational future in the study and practice of Tibetan medicine. Let me now come to the first of the four questions posed above — how can one define “gender-related symptoms” in Tibetan medical practice? A symptom is any change in one’s body condition that does or could indicate an illness and is perceived as necessary to be checked by a doctor. There is a subjective element in the meaning, as it is based on a patient’s description. A symptom, however is not the same thing as a diagnosis, and I would like to make this point clear. I am not aware of any statistics about gender-related symptoms in Tibetan medical practice. Although reports can be found relating to gender issues in general,18 there is no analytic study based on quantitative research available in a European language. Gender related symptoms may be associated with gynaecological or andropathical problems but can also be found in relation to both sexes in connection with “non sexual organs” such as the heart, the stomach or the liver. (A syndrome is a complex of more than one symptom linked by the same aetiology.) In the following I will examine a number of medicinal phenomena with regard to gender found during my fieldwork in the Tibetan Hospital at Kumbum. Data from the sample of 355 medical consultations was previously published19 . The fieldwork documented: anamnesis, symptoms, diagnostics and therapy, sex, approximate age,

15 pha yi khu bas rus pa klad gzhung skyed / ma yi zla mtshan sha khrag don snod skyed. G.yu thog Yon tan mgon po 1992: 17/13–14. — For illustrations of the knowledge on embryology see: Yuri Parfionovitch et al. Tibetan Medical Paintings: Illustrations to the ‘Blue Beryl’ treatise of Sangs rgyas Rgya mtsho (1653–1705). London: Serindia Publ., 1992: Plate 5: no. 33. 16 Cf.: Fjeld and Hofer, Woman and Gender, 181. 17 e.g.: Byams pa Phrin las, Gangs ljongs gso rig bstan pavi nyin byed rim byon gyi rnam thar phyogs bsgrigs (Pe cin: Mi rigs dpe skrun khang, 2000); Dgra vdul, Bod lugs gso rig pavi mkhas dbang rim byon gyi lo rgyus mdor bsdus(Lha sa: Bod ljongs mi dmangs dpe skrun khang, 2012); see also Theresia Hofer, Changing Representation, 111. 18 e.g.: Sianna Craig, Healing Elements, 2012b. Patricia Bassini, “The Hierarchy of Food Consumption and Tibetan Experiences of Gastric and Gallblader Disorders in Amdo.” East Asian Science, Technolohy and Society: An international Journal 7, 2013b, 453–466. 19 Katharina Sabernig, Kalte Kräuter und heiße Bäder: Die Anwendung der Tibetischen Medizin in den Klöstern Amdos [Wiener ethnomedizinische Reihe: Band 5] (Wien: Lit, 2007).

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ethnic background, if notable, and the way patients expressed themselves. As a silent observer who sat beside the physicians in the hospital for several weeks I could not ask for an explanation in every case; nonetheless I found some interesting perspectives. Unfortunately at that time my Tibetan was not good enough to note the Tibetan names of the diseases diagnosed during the consultations. In my previous publication I did not examine the relation between gender and the specific health troubles that were mentioned at that time. This will be done here on the basis of the data taken during this fieldwork. During my fieldwork, the hospital was visited by 185 women and 170 men with a heterogeneous ethnic and religious affiliation. Most of them spoke Chinese (Qinghai dialect), yet clearly had a Tibetan or Buddhist background. Other patients were Tibetan-speaking nomads, members of the Mongol minority in Qinghai or pilgrims from Inner Mongolia. Even local Muslims, mainly Hui, asked Buddhist monks for medical advice as well as Chinese residents or travellers who dropped by at the hospital.20 As inter-ethnic marriage is not uncommon in Qinghai, a fair number of people were of mixed ethnic background. However, the number of patients with a non-Tibetan background was not sufficient to allow for a detailed analysis of gender-related aspects with regard to certain minorities. Only a few features are worth mentioning and will be discussed respectively. The monk-physicians who saw patients, were characteristically quite young and were able to communicate with their patients in both Chinese and Amdo Tibetan. The much respected head of the hospital, Tulku Tashi Rinpoche (sprul sku bkra shis rin po che),21 was fluent in all three relevant languages as he spoke Mongolian as well. The conversations between doctor and patient were translated into English for me, mainly directly from Chinese or less often from Tibetan, or via Chinese from Mongolian. Apart from the language barrier, the acquisition of data was sometimes connected to other problems. Generally patients presented their complaints as a mixture of symptoms, diseases biomedically diagnosed elsewhere or from their own contextualised interpretations during the interviews. Some people brought biomedical reports including, for example, x-ray pictures, histological results or blood examinations; others simply explained their problems in nonspecific terms such as stomach ache, a noise in the ear or nervousness of the heart. A closer examination of the manner in which health problems were described by patients made it clear that women presented their troubles quite differently from men. The ratio of male and female patients who visited the hospital was almost balanced, (as indicated: 185 female, 170 male) which is not necessarily normal course. In her studies at another Qinghai clinic, Sianna Craig found that the majority of patients in Tibetan medicine are female and that one doctor told her that about eighty

20 For a more detailed patient profile see: Sabernig, Kalte Kräuter, 62–67. 21 For a portrait of this outstanding physician see: Sabernig, Kalte Kräuter, 57–60.

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percent were women.22 The number of children brought to the Kumbum hospital was very low, which may be explained by the assumption that parents tended to bring their children to a biomedical doctor in acute cases. A closer examination of the individual medical consultations that I observed during my fieldwork revealed that men often visited the hospital only to ask for another prescription of medicine for their wives. This was usually followed up by an unspecific request to have their own pulse checked, as they might need some medicine, too. Men talked much less about physical pain, which does not mean that they did not suffer from chronic aches related to grief or unexpressed emotions. The male patients hardly ever spoke about mental depression or social problems. Here women notably differed as they set their physical troubles into an emotional context. Often they would introduce the presentation of their problem with statements such as “at the beginning of my (gastric) trouble there was some great offence” or “since the death of a beloved person I have had a headache”. This difference in communication is also reflected in the number of troubles that were mentioned. During my presence in the hospital, men described a total of 177 health problems while women complained of no less than 269 symptoms. By far, the majority of complaints were gastrointestinal problems for both genders, followed by different forms of other pain. Although some problems did not show significant features with regard to gender, certain syndromes did show an interesting gender-specific distribution. However, the statistical results presented in the following should not be regarded as epidemiological statistics, and it should also be kept in mind that they were collected more than ten years ago. Working conditions of Tibetan medical doctors changed rapidly in recent years because hospitals have become obliged to work in accordance with the rules of good manufacturing practice (GMP) and good clinical practice (GCP) which are meant to improve the safety of the treatments. However, these pharmaceutical or clinical rules are discussed controversially.23 Diseases were diagnosed in line with Tibetan diagnostic skills: the interview was always accompanied by palpation of the pulse, sometimes complemented by tongue diagnostics or eye diagnostics.24 The situation did not allow an explanation of the diagnosis in every case but two Tibetan syndromes appeared to be predominant for

22 Craig, Healing Elements, 19. 23 During the development of these pharmaceutical rules a broad and diverging discussion took place in Tibet about what makes a good quality of medicine and medical care, and it is still going on: For this discussion see: Vincanne Adams, Renqing Dongzhu, Phuoc V. Le, “Translating Science: The Arura Medical Group at the Frontiers of Medical Research.” In Studies of Medical Pluralism in Tibetan History and Society; PIATS 2006: Tibetan Studies: Proceedings of the Eleventh Seminar of the International Association for Tibetan Studies, Königswinter 2006. Edited by Sianna Craig, Mingji Cuomu, Frances Garrett and Mona Schrempf (Beiträge zur Zentralasienforschung, Band 18). Halle: IITBS GmbH, 2010 p. 111–136.; Sianna Craig, “’Good’ Manufacturing by Whose Standards? Global Governance and the Production of Tibetan Pharmaceuticals.” Anthropological Quarterly 84 (2) (2011c): 331–378.; Sianna Craig: Healing Elements. 24 Katharina Sabernig, Kalte Kräuter, 70–72.

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women: “wind of heart” and “damp-cold-wind impediment”, followed by a third large group suffering from “wind after birth”. Tibetan diagnoses for men were more diverse, their syndromes were mainly connected with epigastrium and “coldness in the lower part of the body”. Craig mentions that women would “suffer more from disorders of the channels (tsa) and of wind (lung), and that men have more accidents”.25 As injuries caused by accidents are usually treated by personnel who are trained in biomedicine, I hardly ever saw such cases. Disorders of the channels were just mentioned tangentially but were regarded in some cases as the cause of a disease. Terms which are used to describe syndromes in Tibetan usually consist of two parts. One part is defined either in terms of the body humors — namely “wind” (rlung), “bile” (mkhris pa) and “phlegm” (bad kan) — or in terms of thermic factors such as “cold” or “heat”. The other part of a symptom applies to the location of the medical condition; this may be an organ, some other particular body part or a general affliction of the body. But this part of the syndrome’s name may also cover functional specifications such as “uprising” or “blocking”, or even temporal ones such as “after birth”. It would go beyond the scope of this paper to discuss the problematic nature of medical terminology in the context of different medical cultures; within Tibetan medicine this topic has been discussed by various authors, and their efforts should be taken seriously.26 Nevertheless some findings should be discussed in the following.

Problems in the epigastric region Troubles with the stomach, liver, bile and intestines (hepato-gastrointestinal problems) made up the largest group of consultations in Kumbum Hospital. Almost every second patient mentioned difficulties with the stomach, indigestion or a malfunction of the liver and bile (hepato-biliary system).27 The amount of times these kinds of symptoms were reported was evenly distributed with regards to gender, especially the large subgroup of stomach upsets, including nausea. The generally high number of gastric discomforts could be explained by hygienic factors such as the bad quality

25 Sianna Craig: Healing Elements, 39. ad: In transliteration channels are spelled as “rtsa” and wind as “rlung” 26 e.g.: Vincanne Adams, “Complications in the Study of Efficacy of Tibetan Medicine within the Biomedical Context.” (paper presented at the International Academic Conference on Tibetan Medicine in Lhasa, edited by Apei Awang Jinmei [Ngag dbang Vjigs med, not published edition]), 2000, 928–934. Sianna Craig, “From Empowerments to Power Calculations: Notes on Efficacy, Value and Method.” In Medicine between Science and Religion: Exploration on Tibetan Grounds. Edited by Vincanne Adams, Mona Schrempf, and Sianna Craig. New York, Oxford: Berghahn Books, 2012b, 215–240; Samuel 2006; Geoffrey Samuel, “Tibetan Medicine and Biomedicine: Epistemological Conflicts, Practical Solutions.” Asian Medicine: Tradition and Modernity (2:1) (2006): 72–85. 27 For gastrointestinal troubles see also: Patricia Bassini, The Hierarchy of Food Consumption, 455.

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of drinking water, food storage and general eating behaviour. The exceptionally high usage of chilli to season food, and consumption of extraordinary fat meat or “branchtee,” which is popular in the region are examples of these kinds of eating patterns.28 A local saying has it that men prefer to eat “hot” food whereas women tend to eat “sour”, a behaviour which can also be observed in Qinghai’s small street-restaurants, where both “chilli” and “rice-vinegar” are provided as seasoning. Nevertheless, it must be stated that commonly Qinghai cooking is very spicy. Tibetan pharmacological treatment is mostly accompanied with the advice not to eat garlic, chilli or other hot spices while taking a medicine, as it is thought that these flavours may have a disturbing influence on the remedy, which is compounded according to a certain balance of tastes. While this explanation must be seen against the theoretical background of Tibetan pharmacology, such advice has some practical relevance, too. Although the bacteriostatic effect of garlic is well-known and garlic is highly popular as a defence against evil influences in the country as a whole, over dosage of garlic and chilli might cause gastric dyspepsia. Therefore in itself the reduction or avoidance of these spices could have a curative function. Aside from these nutritive factors, gastric discomfort is associated with various causative factors in Tibetan medicine. Worrying might be one, a lack of “digestive fire” (me drod) or a general influence of “cold” is seen as another reason as well as a disturbance of one of the three “humoral factors”: phlegm (bad kan). The main reason for female stomach problems was the influence of “too much cold”. In other cases, the physicians explained the gastric problems in connection with “heat” and the origin of the reason for the disease was seen as a disturbance of bile (mkhris pa). This includes problems with physical bile as well as an imbalance of the humoral factor: bile, which is, according to the physicians, mainly accompanied with “hot” disorders.29 The ratio of cold and hot causes for male stomach problems was quite equal. When problems with the liver and gallbladder were mentioned, the situation with regards to gender was quite different. In the sample, women suffered six times more often from problems of their physical gallbladder,30 either colic pain or cholelithiasis (congrements) than men. Men did not seem to have many problems with the attendant of the liver, however frequently with the liver itself. Most of their troubles, including cirrhosis of the liver, were induced by chronic alcohol consumption, only two men mentioned a hepatitis B infection but there might well be a higher number of undetected cases and quite a few women mentioned a chronic hepatitis B infection. One woman talked (in public) about her history of alcohol abuse but most female liver problems were caused by diagnosed virus-hepatitis or parasites such as echinococco-

28 For digestibility of nomadic food see: Ibid, 459. 29 A similar example of a Han woman in the Qinghai Tibetan Medical Hospital showing a mixture of somatic troubles with the bile as the reason for gastric discomfort followed by the advice not to eat spicy food is given by Sianna Craig, Healing elements, 54. 30 Average ratio of adults in general is 1: 2,5.

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sis as a result of pastoral work. In these cases, this was caused by activities such as milking cows, goats or sheep but also the collection of yak-dung, which is used for making fire. The high rate of hepato-biliary problems may be explained by these social, biological and hormonal factors or even a certain genetic disposition, however it is also worth taking the theory of Tibetan medicine into account, as it offers a psychosomatic explanation of diseases. Gallbladder and liver disorders are connected with anger, hatred or a bad temper. These correspondences are not only found in Tibetan medicine but also in traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) as well as in ancient Greek medicine or Āyurveda. Additionally bile is the name of one of the three pathogenic principles in Tibetan humoral pathology. The biomedical word for gallbladder is cholecyst and derived from the Greek word for bile (χολή cholé). The English word ‘bile’ is derived from Latin (bilis). The Greek word lent its name not only for inflammation of the gallbladder (cholecystitis) or gallstones (cholelitiasis) but also for moods of bad temper (choleric) and even for the famous but unpopular marker for blood lipids: cholesterol which is a major factor of cholelitiasis.31 Therefore these psychosomatic concepts can be regarded as culturally embedded explanations, but they are not phenomena in the sense of culturally bound syndromes.32 Interestingly patients with a Muslim background visited the hospital mainly to get relief from hepato-gastrointestinal problems including bile but rarely mentioned any kind of pain. This is the next largest group worth discussing.33

Almost every second patient suffered from pain It is well known that the presentation of certain forms of pain depends on various factors such as shame, upbringing, cultural acceptance, reasons for pain, and so on.34 The interpretation and expression of pain varies from individual to individual and is clearly also related to gender. In general almost every second patient complained of

31 For more details: Sabernig, Katharina. “The Tree of Nosology”. In Cultural Systems of Classification: Sickness, Health and Local Epistemologies. Edited by Ulrike Steinert. London and New York: Routledge, 2020, 233–257. 32 “Cultural bound syndromes” (CBS) are mainly psychiatric syndromes which are only understandable in their cultural context, and are discussed controversially. See: Birte Lange. Susto und Depression: Eine ethnologische Diskussion um Krankheit und kulturgebundene Syndrome. Rheinfelden: Schäuble Verlag, 2000. 33 This is more of a tendency than a strict habit as demonstrated by the case of Salar women who went to the inpatient department of the Qinghai Tibetan Medical Hospital after being treated without success in a biomedical hospital; recounted by Sianna Craig, Healing elements, 54. 34 Els Van Dongen and Ruth Kutalek (editors), Facing Distress: distance and proximity in times of illness. [Wiener ethnomedizinische Reihe: Band 4]. Wien: Lit, 2006.

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some kind of pain such as headache, pain of the back and locomotor system, or some forms of abdominal pain (see fig.) Women mentioned pain as the reason they consulted a physician, at least twice as frequently as men. Women mentioned headaches and problems with the neck and shoulders as well as “moving pain” three times more often than men. Most of these women were working hard as farmers. Unspecified pain in the lower abdomen and in the middle of the back, however, were complaints made by roughly equal numbers of men and women. This fits well with the theory that men are more likely to express pain if the reason is not obvious or visible. It is not remarkable that women suffered from headaches more often than men, although one should be aware that in general quite a number of men suffer from severe migraines or tension headaches. In the sample all the women who complained of headaches had a Tibetan background, the same with the men (with the exception of a male Chinese patient with a headache). Surprisingly there was not a single Muslim patient who consulted the hospital for that reason. In Europe women often report that after the menopause the number and intensity of migraine attacks is much reduced or that the problem disappears altogether. Interestingly in the (preliminary) sample the situation is reversed. Although young mothers visited the doctor because of headaches, most women complaining of headaches were elderly, approximately in their fifties or sixties. Some suffered from migraines and reported nausea, dizziness or sensitivity to light. In certain cases I could not help suspecting that the headache was an unspecific expression of mental depression or the like, especially the generation which was in its sixties at the time of the evaluation (2000). This generation experienced dramatic social and cultural changes which affected their perspective on life and challenged their sense of self in terms of gender, behaviour or self expression. They were young during the Cultural Revolution (1966–1976) but old enough to know the “old system”.35 This generation has learned to be cautious about saying what they think in a straightforward way. Possibly the high rate of male hepatic diseases mentioned above should also be seen in light of this period. The theory that annoyance or suppressed anger could harm the liver in combination with a typical male strategy of dealing with anger, namely drinking alcohol, makes the liver prone to illness. I was told by a Chinese woman that in China it is said that many men who were affected severely by the consequences of the Cultural Revolution suffered from cirrhosis of the liver. Headaches, thus to complete the circle, were often diagnosed by the monk-physicians as a disturbance of “uprising bile” or “wind of the liver”, syndromes which are associated with strong emotions, and also “wind of heart”, another syndrome which often indicates psychic burden. This will be discussed within the last symptom group in this paper.

35 The complexity surrounding this generation’s ability to make reflections on this period is extensively discussed by Wang Lixiong and Tsering Shakya, The Struggle for Tibet.

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How to communicate urogenital troubles Another complex of symptoms, which should be discussed, are related to the urogenital tract. Considering the length of the female urethra which is shorter than the male, it is not surprising that women asked more frequently for medicine against problems with their urinary bladder than men. It is however surprising that young women from different minority groups, Tibetans as well as Muslims, were talking without shame about their menstrual problems or vaginal discharge in the presence of young, male neighbours. It would go beyond the scope of this preliminary examination to discuss the complex question of religious influence on the female sense of shame while communicating with a Buddhist monk physician in a crowded consulting room. In my opinion, these characteristically young women talked quite openly about their menstrual troubles, it even appeared to be alleviative to be allowed to talk about their troubles. This particular openness cannot be generalised as men spoke about their urinary problems completely differently. In this small sample men, mainly elderly, complained about problems with their kidneys four times more often than women. The problems were often associated with lower back pain. Although women mentioned lower back pain almost twice as often as men, they hardly ever presented their problems in association with their kidneys. To find an explanation for this one could try to find some biological reason for the unexpectedly high number of male kidney problems. The high instance of gout (a major reason for kidney-damage that lay people are often not aware of) or urolithiasis, could be explained in relation to public health issues such as some undetected hereditary factors, or by typically male working conditions or eating patterns, such as too much meat or alcohol. However, it is also necessary to examine what these men did not say but wanted to express while talking about their kidney problems. Here it might be helpful to know that the kidney represents vital power or even life force in both Tibetan medicine and TCM. In Tibetan medicine kidneys are symbolically associated with weightlifters or, in the form of political metaphor, with the foreign minister.36 The high number of male kidney complaints may therefore be explained by the possibility that these men wanted to express that they felt weak in general or, more specifically, it is possible that they wanted to tell the doctor indirectly that they suffered from a loss of potency. I wonder how they would talk if they were talking alone with the monk-physician. In many cases the diagnosis was “cold in the lower body” and men received some medicine, accordingly. Yet another syndrome that is worth mentioning is “wind after birth.” Quite a few young mothers visited the hospital a short time after giving birth and in many cases the syndrome was diagnosed. The variety of their symptoms cannot be subsumed in terms of gynaecology or a certain biomedical postpartal syndrome; “wind after birth” appears when mothers do not have enough time to recover after the birth of a child

36 Yuri Parfionovitch et al., Tibetan Medical Paintings, Plate 6, no. 29.

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and go back to working hard too early on, or do not receive enough care from their family at that time. Among other symptoms “wind after birth” occurs in form of a “headache”, gastric problems, insomnia, “a nervous heart” or the general feeling of exhaustion. Aside from the advice that they should take time to recover, keep warm and go for quiet walks, different medicines were prescribed according to the individual symptoms and the diagnosed imbalance of the humoral system.37 Sometimes “wind after birth” was further specified as “wind of the heart” which gets worsened by the influence of “cold”.

A “nervous heart” and other heart problems A common reason to visit Kumbum Monastery Hospital was difficulty in connection with the heart. The function of the heart is crucial in Tibetan medicine and society: physically, spiritually, socially as well as symbolically. The heart is regarded as an analogy for the head of a state.38 Many patients told the physician that they “were nervous in their heart” which could be accompanied by physical problems such as palpitations or high blood-pressure. The expression is also common in Amdo region to communicate that one is worried or does not feel good in general. It could also express some kind of fear caused by a traumatic experience. Symptoms also included headaches and gastric problems. Most patients with heart problems were Tibetans, again, predominantly women. Interestingly some Hui women also mentioned heart problems or “being nervous” but not a single Muslim man talked about any kind of heart problem. They referred to high blood pressure, which was taken as a “biomedical service” by the monk physicians. Most frequently women with heart problems were diagnosed as having “wind of heart” or “not enough blood in the heart”, in other cases “uprising bile” was the reason for “being nervous in the heart”. Interestingly the origins of male “heartproblems” were often seen as “heat in the lungs”, “heat in the liver” and sometimes high blood pressure; the pathogenesis of which is a complex issue. Untreated blood pressure on the level of RR 200/100 was not a singular phenomenon. It would go beyond the scope of this paper to discuss the complexity of the diagnosis: “nervous heart” and “wind of heart” or the Tibetan cardiac system, but the phenomenon is already well described.39 The physicians never explained any connection between 37 See: Katharina Sabernig, Kalte Kräuter, 74 f; Although the syndrome “Wind after birth” is not mentioned by name the phenomenon was also described by a doctor to Sianna Craig, but was mainly associated with problems of the kidneys and the locomotor system: Sianna Craig, Healing Elements, 65. 38 Yuri Parfionovitch et al., Tibetan Medical Paintings, Plate 6, no. 24. 39 In a broader context: Byron Good, “The heart of what’s the matter: The semantics of illness in Iran” Culture, Medicine and Psychiatry 1: 25–58, 1977; in Qinghai province: Katharina Sabernig, Kalte

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certain heart syndromes and the Tibetan channels-system but Craig mentions a direct connection, which could explain her findings that women suffer most often from channel diseases.40 In the hospital the treatment was always a pharmacological prescription according to the humoral syndrome the individual problem is based on. Especially in the case of a “nervous heart” it was often complemented with incense, which was produced by the Monastery hospital.41 I never observed any rituals or the like but other researchers report that the treatment consists of costly rituals, alternatively or complementarily alongside pharmacological treatment.42

Conclusion There is no doubt that the evaluation of my fieldwork in regards to gender related symptoms is preliminary and further research is necessary. Nevertheless, in the scope of this pilot scheme some tendencies were made visible for the first time and findings correlated with those of other researchers. It is important to note that psychic problems are often expressed symbolically in the form of a headache or a “nervous heart”. To avoid misinterpretation the results must be contextualised in terms of public health, environment, culture, religion and social structures. For women the pathogenic influence of cold as a climatic factor as well as in terms of nutrition is crucial either directly as “damp-cold-wind impediment” or as an aggravating factor for “wind of heart” and “wind after birth”. These syndromes include serious somatic symptoms, which result from social, psychic and material discomfort. In general men have more difficulties in communicating their troubles and prefer to trust the physician’s skill in palpating the pulse. It might be helpful to regard the high rate of male gastrointestinal troubles, high blood pressure and skin diseases additional to their somatic pathogenesis in the context of the emotional burdens they have not talked about.

Kräuter, 2007, 73–76; Patrizia Bassini, Heart distress on the Sino-Tibetan frontier: history, gender, ecology and ritual practice in Tibetan popular perceptions and experiences of heart distress (snying nad) in Amdo (PhD diss., Oxford University, 2007), Bassini, Patricia. “Harmony or Hierarchy? The Mindful Body and the Sacred Landscape in Tibetan Healing Practices.” In The Body in Balance: Humoral Medicines in Practice, edited by Peregrine Horden and Elisabeth Hsu. New York: Berghahn Books, 2013a. 40 Sianna Craig, Healing Elements, 123 f. 41 For more details of the monastery’s incense: Katharina Sabernig, Kalte Kräuter, 105–107. 42 See: Patrizia Bassini, “Heart Distress”; Sianna Craig, Healing Elements, 124, 136.

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Figure 1: General distribution of troubles

Figure 2: Hepato-gastrointestinal

Figure 3: Sufferings from pains

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Figure 4: Urinary tract

Figure 5: Thoracic problems

References Adams, Vincanne. “Complications in the Study of Efficacy of Tibetan Medicine within the Biomedical Context.” Paper presented at the International Academic Conference on Tibetan Medicine in Lhasa, edited by Apei Awang Jinmei [Ngag dbang Vjigs med], (not published edition), 2000, 928–934. Adams, Vincanne, Renqing Dongzhu, Phuoc V. Le. “Translating Science: The Arura Medical Group at the Frontiers of Medical Research.” In Studies of Medical Pluralism in Tibetan History and Society; PIATS 2006: Tibetan Studies: Proceedings of the Eleventh Seminar of the International Association for Tibetan Studies, Königswinter 2006. Edited by Sianna Craig, Mingji Cuomu, Frances Garrett and Mona Schrempf (Beiträge zur Zentralasienforschung, Band 18). Halle: IITBS GmbH, 2010 p. 111–136. Balk, Michael. On Letters, Words, and Syllables: Transliteration and Romanisation of the Tibetan Script (2021.03.24: 10.59: https://staatsbibliothekberlin.de/fileadmin/user_upload/zentrale_Seiten/ostasienabteilung/bilder/ Letters__Words_and_Syllables.pdf, Berlin, 2005. Bassini, Patricia. Heart Distress on the Sino-Tibetan Frontier: History, Gender, Ecology and Ritual Practice in Tibetan Popular Perceptions and Experiences of Heart Distress (snying nad) in Amdo. PhD diss., Oxford University, 2007. Bassini, Patricia. “Harmony or Hierarchy? The Mindful Body and the Sacred Landscape in Tibetan Healing Practices.” In The Body in Balance: Humoral Medicines in Practice, edited by Peregrine Horden and Elisabeth Hsu. New York: Berghahn Books, 2013a.

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Bassini, Patricia. “The Hierarchy of Food Consumption and Tibetan Experiences of Gastric and Gallblader Disorders in Amdo.” East Asian Science, Technology and Society: An International Journal 7, 2013b. Byams pa Phrin las. Gangs ljongs gso rig bstan pavi nyin byed rim byon gyi rnam thar phyogs bsgrigs. Pe cin: Mi rigs dpe skrun khang, 2000. Craig, Sianna R. “Migration, Social Change, Health, and the Realm of the Possible: Women Stories from Nepal to New York.” Anthropology and Humanism 36(2) (2011a), 196–214. Craig, Sianna R. “Pregnancy and Childbirth in Tibet: Knowledge, Perspectives and Practices.” In Childbirth across Cultures. Edited by H. Selin. New York: Springer, 2009, 145–160. Craig, Sianna R. “Not found in Tibetan Society: Culture, Childbirth and a Politics of Life on the Roof of the World.” Himalaya 30(1–2) (2011b): 101–114. Craig, Sianna R. “‘Good’ Manufacturing by Whose Standards? Global Governance and the Production of Tibetan Pharmaceuticals.” Anthropological Quarterly 84 (2) (2011c): 331–378. Craig, Sianna R. Healing Elements: Efficacy and the Social Ecologies of Tibetan Medicine. Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 2012a. Craig, Sianna R. “From Empowerments to Power Calculations: Notes on Efficacy, Value and Method.” In Medicine between Science and Religion: Exploration on Tibetan Grounds. Edited by Adams, Vincanne, Schrempf, Mona, Craig, Sianna. New York, Oxford: Berghahn Books, 2012b, 215–240. Dgra Vdul. Bod lugs gso rig pavi mkhas dbang rim byon gyi lo rgyus mdor bsdus. Lha sa: Bod ljongs mi dmangs dpe skrun khang, 2012. Diemberger, Hildegard. When a Woman Becomes a Religious Dynasty: The Samding Dorje Phagmo of Tibet. New York: Columbia University Press, 2007. Fjeld, Heidi and Hofer, Theresia (editors). “Woman and Gender in Tibetan Medicine.” Asian Medicine: Tradition and Modernity (6:2) 2010–2011, 2012. Good, Byron. “The Heart of What’s the Matter: The Semantics of Illness in Iran” Culture, Medicine and Psychiatry 1, 1977. Gyatso, Janet and Havnevik, Hanna (editors). Women in Tibet. New York: Columbia University Press, 2005, 169–94. Gyatso, Janet. “Spelling Mistakes, Philology, and Feminist Criticism: Women and Boys in Tibetan Medicine.” In Tibetan Studies in Honor of Samten Karmay. Edited by Françoise Pommaret and Jean-Luc Achard. Dharamsala Amnye Machen Institute, 2009, 81–98. G.yu thog Yon tan mgon po. Bdud rtsi snying po yan lag brgyad pa gsang ba man ngag gi rgyud. Lha sa: Bod ljongs mi dmangs dpe skrun khang, 1992. Hofer, Theresia. “Socio-Economic Dimensions of Tibetan Medicine in the Tibet Autonomous Region, China: Part One.” Asian Medicine: Tradition and Modernity (4:1) (2008a): 174–200. Hofer, Theresia. “Socio-Economic Dimensions of Tibetan Medicine in the Tibet Au-

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tonomous Region, China: Part Two.” Asian Medicine: Tradition and Modernity (4:2) (2008b): 492–514. Hofer, Theresia. Tibetan Medicine on the Margins: Twentieth Century Transformations of the Traditions of Sowa Rigpa in Central Tibet. PhD diss., London University College, 2011a. Hofer, Theresia. “Changing Representations of the Tibetan Woman Doctor Khandro Yangkar (1907–1973).” In Buddhist Himalaya: Studies in Religion, History and Culture, Proceedings of the Golden Jubilee Conference of the Namgyal Institute of Tibetology: Gangtok, 2008. Vol 1: Tibet and the Himalaya, edited by Alex McKay, Anna Balikci-Denjongpa. Gangtok, Sikkim: Namgyal Institute of Tibetology, 2011b. Lange, Birte. Susto und Depression: Eine ethnologische Diskussion um Krankheit und kulturgebundene Syndrome. Rheinfelden: Schäuble Verlag, 2000. Makley, Charlene. The Violence of Liberation: Gender and Tibetan Buddhist Revival in Post-Mao China. Berkely/Los Angeles/London: University of California Press, 2007. Parfionovitch, Yuri, Gyurme Dorje, Meyer, Fernand (editors). Tibetan Medical Paintings: Illustrations to the ‘Blue Beryl’ treatise of Sangs rgyas Rgya mtsho (1653– 1705). London: Serindia Publ., 1992. Pinto, Sarah. “Pregnancy and Childbirth in Tibetan Culture.” In Buddhist Women Across Cultures: Realisations. Edited by Karma Lekshe Tsomo. Albany: State University of New York Press. 1999, 159–168. Sabernig, Katharina. Kalte Kräuter und heiße Bäder: Die Anwendung der Tibetischen Medizin in den Klöstern Amdos [Wiener ethnomedizinische Reihe: Band 5]. Wien: Lit, 2007. Sabernig, Katharina 2020. “The Tree of Nosology.” In Cultural Systems of Classification: Sickness, Health and Local Epistemologies. Edited by Ulrike Steinert. London and New York: Routledge: 2020, 233–257. Samuel, Geoffrey. “Tibetan Medicine and Biomedicine: Epistemological Conflicts, practical solutions.” Asian Medicine: Tradition and Modernity (2:1) (2006): 72– 85. Tashi Tsering. “Outstanding Women in Tibetan Medicine.” In Women in Tibet. Edited by J. Gyatso and H. Havnevik. New York: Columbia University Press. 2005, 169–94. Van Dongen, Els and Kutalek, Ruth (editors). Facing Distress: Distance and Proximity in Times of Illness. [Wiener ethnomedizinische Reihe: Band 4]. Wien: Lit, 2006. Wang Lixiong and Tsering Shakya. The Struggle for Tibet. With an introduction by Robert Barnett. London: Versio, 2009, 37–81.

Serpil Yazıcı Şahin

Terms of Female Kinship in Modern Uighur and Uzbek The concept “woman”, is expressed in a great variety of ways in historical Turkic dialects. In Turkic vocabulary the word “woman”, reflects the social status and life of women in that society. There is a rich repertoire of both kinship terms and kinship addressing expressions related to women in Turkic languages. Evolution of this kinship vocabulary shows the historical landscape of women and the evolution of language and culture. It is important to clarify the vocabulary related to “woman” by looking at Turkic written sources to find the nuances of women’s status and social life in different periods throughout history. Both kinship terms and kinship addressing expressions related to women are identified in Uzbek and Uighur society and the equivalents of this vocabulary in Modern Turkish are presented here. The phonetical and semantical commonalities in kinship terms in Modern Turkish, Uzbek and Uighur dialects are demonstrated. The living words in Modern Turkish dialects are also revealed as a result of phonetic and morphological analysis.

Introduction Kinship terminology is part of the basic vocabulary (Aksan 2004: 26) and refers to the various systems used in languages to express kinship relationships between individuals. These terms are the means of specifying the relationship between individual and society. These terms also determine the place of the individual in the society and the distance in the relationships. Different societies classify kinship relations differently, and therefore use different systems of kinship terminology. Given that kinship is so important in social organization, kinship systems are a universal feature of languages. Some of the kinship systems are richer than others but use factors like gender, age, generation and marriage in their own organizations (Wardhaugh 2006: 229). Therefore kinship terms are one of the sources giving important information about the structure, living and tradition of society. Turkic languages, the ancient and established languages spread over a very wide geography, are some of the richest languages of the world in kinship terms. Different terms are used in modern, old and middle Turkic languages regardless of whether one word is used for two kinship terms in languages. For instance, in Indo-European languages ‘cousin’ is used for ‘father’s brother’s child’ and ‘father’s sister’s child’. In Turkic languages they are distinguished in terms of Serpil Yazıcı Şahin, Department of Turkish Language and Literature, Kocaeli University, Türkiye https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-017

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the sons and daughters of the father’s brother, father’s sister, mother’s brother and mother’s sister; further distinctions are made between elder brother, elder sister and younger brother and younger sister from past to present. Turkic languages provide kinship terms based on native vocabulary as well as by using loanwords from neighboring and related languages. This paper lists and analyzes kinship terms related to women in Uzbek and Modern Uighur and presents equivalents in Modern Turkish. Uzbek and Modern Uighur belong to the Eastern Turkic, or Karluk, language group of the Turkic languages. Uzbek and Modern Uighur are based on Chagatai Turkish. The purpose of this paper is to reveal the relationship between social units like marriage by looking at the relevant vocabulary in Modern Uighur and Uzbek. The vocabulary was gleaned from the dictionaries: – Uyğur Tilining İzahlik Lugati (UTİL), – Uyğur Şiviliri Sözligi (UŞŞ), – O’zbak Tilining İzoxli Lug’ati (OTİL), – O’zbakcha-Turkcha va Turkcha-O’zbakcha Lug’at (OTTOL). The kinship terms obtained were classified according to the Yong-Sŏng Li method in the Türk Dillerinde Akrabalık Adları. The kinship terms were then classified and matched with Modern Turkish correspondences. In the first part of this paper, the general kinship terms in Uzbek and Modern Uighur are briefly introduced. In the second part, the vocabulary related to female kinship terms (classified by blood, by marriage, adoption and others) in Uzbek and Modern Uighur is identified and correspondences of this vocabulary in old and Modern Turkish are given. Many kinship words were loaned from neighbouring and related Turkic languages.

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Terms Indicating Kinship by Blood in Modern Uighur Sister Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek

aça: elder sister “abla” (UTİL-I:31) açaka: elder sister “abla” (UŞS:3) aġaça: elder sister “abla” (UŞS:9) aġıça: elder sister “abla” (UŞS:10) appaq: elder sister, maternal aunt (mother’s sister) paternal aunt (father’s sister)“abla, teyze, hala”(UŞS:1) appay: elder sister “abla”(UTİL-I:7) çoñ aça: elder sister, aunt “büyük abla, teyze” (UTİLII:691) ecä: elder sister “abla” (UŞS:274) hede: elder sister “abla” (UTİL-V:495) aylä: elder sister “abla”(UŞS:18) kiçikaça: younger sister “küçük abla” (UTİL-IV:751)

åpa: elder sister “abla” (OTTOL:283) katta åpa: elder sister “büyük abla” (OTİL:538) kiçikåyi: elder sister “küçük abla” (OTİL:389)

Mother Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek

ana: mother “anne” (UTİL-I:189) apa: mother “anne” (UTİL-I:5) éne: mother “anne” (UŞS:277)

åna: mother “anne”(OTTOL:283) ånagina: mum, mummy “anneciğim” (OTİL:537) ånajån: mum, mummy “anneciğim” (OTTOL:283) ånaxån: mum, mummy “anneciğim” (OTİL:537) åya: mum, mummy “annecik” (OTİL:67) åyi: mother “anne” (OTİL:527) vålida: mother “valide, anne” (OTTOL:169)

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Grandmother Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek

anika: grandmother [mother’s mother] “anneanne” (IŞS:16) aycicem: grandmother [mother’s mother] “nine” (UŞS:18) cice: grandmother “anneanne” [mother’s mother] (UŞS:95) çoñ: ana grandmother, aunt “nine, büyükanne, hala, teyze” (UTİL-II:691) kök ana: grandmother [mother’s mother] “anneanne” (UŞS:213) qurtqa: grandmother [mother’s mother] “anneanne” (UŞS:197) moma: grandmother “nine” (UTİL-V:187)

buvi: grandmother [father’s mother] “babaanne” (OTTOL:16) dåya: grandmother “nine” måmå: grandmother [father’s mother] “babaanne” (OTTOL:16)(OTTOL:46) bibi: grandmother [mother’s mother] “nine, anneanne” (OTTOL:25)

Elder sister, aunt Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek

appaq: elder sister, maternal aunt (mother’s sister) paternal aunt (father’s sister) “abla, teyze, hala”(UŞS:1)

Sister Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek

boġum: sister “kızkardeş” (UŞS:34) egiçä: sister “kızkardeş” (UTİL-VI:325) siñil: younger sister “küçük kız kardeş” (UTİLIII:701)

siñil: sister “kız kardeş” (OTTOL:305)

Niece Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek

ciyen aça: elder niece “büyük kız yeğen” (UTİLII:616) ciyensıñıl: younger niece “küçük kız yeğen” (UTİLII:616)

qızjiyan: niece “kız yeğen” (OTİL:283)

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Grandmother, aunt Modern Uighur çoñ apa: grandmother, aunt “nine, büyük anne; hala, teyze” (UTİL-II:691) appaq: elder sister, maternal aunt (mother’s sister) paternal aunt (father’s sister) “abla, teyze, hala” (UŞS:1) çoñne: aunt “hala, teyze” (UŞS:110) çoñaça: elder sister, aunt “büyük abla, teyze” (UTİLII:691) hamma: aunt “hala, teyze” (UTİL-V:468) hammaça: grand aunt “büyük teyze, büyük hala” (UTİL-V:468) xanaġıça: aunt “hala, teyze” (UŞS:122) kiçik ana: aunt “hala, teyze” (UTİL-IV:751) kiçik apa: aunt “hala, teyze” (UTİL-IV:751) taġana: paternal aunt (father’s sister) “hala, teyze”(UŞS:62)

Modern Uzbek

amma: aunt “hala” (OTTOL:195)

ånaxåtin: aunt “teyze, hala” (OTİL:537) xåla: aunt “hala” (OTTOL:346) xålaåyi: aunt “hala” (OTİL:329) xålåyi: aunt “hala” (OTİL:329)

Female grandchildren Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek

qız nevre: female grandchild “kız torun” (UTİLIV:402)

qıznabira: granddaughter “kız torun” (OTİL:491) qıznevara: granddaughter “kız torun” (OTİL:500)

Cousin Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek ammavaçça: cousin (aunt’s daughter) “halakızı, kız kuzen” (OTİL:44) xålavaçça: cousin (aunt’s daughter) “teyze kızı, kız kuzen”(OTİL:329) katta qız: elder girl “büyük kız” (OTİL:372) qız çevara: granddaughter’s daughter “torun kızın kızı” (OTİL:500)

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Terms Indicating Kinship by Marriage Woman, Wife Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek

ayal: woman; wife “kadın;eş” (UTİL-I:209) xançe: wife, wife of khan “eş, hanın hanımı” (UŞS: 122) xotun: wife “hatun, eş” (UTİL-II:855) köçe: wife “eş” (UŞS: 211)

xånim: woman, wife “hanım, eş” (OTTOL: 19) xåtin: wife “hatun, eş” (OTTOL: 347)

Mother-in-law Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek

xanaça: mother-in-law, aunt-in-law “kayın valide; yenge” (UŞS: 122) qéyinana: mother-in-law “aynana, kayın valide” (UTİL-IV:385) qéyinapa: mother-in-law “kayın valide, kaynana” (UTİL-IV:385)

qayin åna: mother-in-law “kayın valide” (OTİL: 537) qaynana: mother-in-law “kaynana” (OTİL:537) qaynåna: mother-in-law “kaynana, kayın valide” (OTTOL: 379)

Elder sister, social superior Modern Uighur xoca bike: wife of the boss “patronun eşi” (UŞS: 123) qéyinaça: elder sister of wife or husband “kocasının ablası (büyük görümce) ya da karısının ablası” (UTİL-IV: 385) qéyinhede: elder sister of wife or husband “kocasının ablası (büyük görümce) ya da karısının ablası” (UTİL-IV: 385) qéyinigiçe: elder sister of wife or husband “kocasının ablası (büyük görümce) ya da karısının ablası” (UTİL-IV: 385)

Modern Uzbek

qayin’egaçi: husband’s “görümce” (OTTOL: 59)

sister;

sister-in

law

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Daughter-in-law Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek

kälin: daughter-in-law “gelin” (UTİL-IV: 742)

kälin: daughter-in-law “gelin” (OTTOL: 245) kälinçak: elder daughter-in-law “küçük gelin” (OTTOL: 245)

Sister of wife Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek

qéyinsıñıl: sister of the wife “baldız” (UTİL-IV:385)

qayinsiñil: wife’s sister, sister-in-law “baldız” (OTİL: 50)) qaynisiñil: wife’s sister “baldız” (OTİL:50 )

Mother-in-law Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek

qudaġi: mother-in-law (mother of the child’s wife or husband) “anne, dünür”[East accent] (UTİL-IV: 314) qudaġuy: mother-in-law (mother of the child’s wife or husband) “anne dünür” [North accent] (UŞS: 196) qudiġuy: mother-in-law (mother of the child’s wife or husband) “anne dünür” [South accent] (UTİLIV:315)

quda buvi: old mother-in-law of one’s child “dünürün annesi ya da yaşlı kadın dünür” (OTİL: 612) quda xåla: old mother-in-law of one’s child* “yaşlı kadın dünür” (OTİL: 612) qudaça: younger mother-in-law of one’s child “genç kadın dünür” (OTİL:612) qudag’a: mother-in-law of one’s child “dünür (kadın)” (OTİL: 612) qudag’ay: mother-in-law of one’s child “dünür (kadın)” (OTİL: 612)

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Aunt-in-law Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek

taġaça: aunt-in-law “dayının hanımı, yenge” (UŞS: 62) yängä: aunt-in-law “yenge” (UTİL-VI: 567)

kälinåyi: brother’s wife (elder brother’s wife) “yenge (küçük kardeşinin karısı)” (OTTOL: 177) yängä: elder brother’s wife “yenge (ağabeyinin karısı)” (OTTOL: 370) yängä: elder brother’s wife “yenge (ağabeyinin karısı)” (OTTOL: 370)

yängä: aunt-in-law “yenge” (UTİL-VI: 567) épiyeñge: brother’s wife “erkek kardeşinin eşi” (UŞS: 274) épiyeñge: brother’s wife “erkek kardeşinin eşi” (UŞS: 274) xanaça: mother-in-law, aunt-in-law “kayın valide; yenge” (UŞS: 122)

First wife Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek katta xåtin: first wife “ilk eş” (OTİL: 372) kundåsh: fellow wife “kuma” (OTİL: 406) kundåsh: fellow wife “kuma” (OTİL: 406) åvsin: sister-in-law; a woman’s husband’s brother’s wife “elti” (OTİL: 519)

Terms Indicating Kinship through Adoption Stepdaughter Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek

asrandi qız: stepdaughter “üvey kız” (UTİL-I: 98) ögäy qız: stepdaughter “üvey kız” (UTİL-V: 839) ataq aça: elder stepdaughter “büyük kız evlat” (UTİL-I:16) ataq sıñıl: stepdaughter “küçük kız evlat” (UTİLI:16) inge: wet nurse to the king’s children “Han’ın çocuklarını emziren ve büyüten kadın” (UTİL-VI: 385)

ö’gäyqız: stepdaughter “üvey kız” (OTTOL: 372)

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Stepmother Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek

ögäy ana: stepmother “üvey ana” (UTİL-V: 839) ögäy apa: stepmother “üvey ana” (UTİL-V: 839) tutuq apa: adopted mother “üvey anne” (UTİL-II: 311) ögäy aça: adopted elder sister “üvey abla” (UTİL-V: 839) ögäy sıñıl adopted sister “üvey kız kardeş” (UTİL-V: 839)

ö’gäyåna: stepmother “üvey anne” (OTTOL: 372)

Other Terms Indicating Kinship Wet nurse Modern Uighur

Modern Uzbek

inikana: wet nurse “sütanne” (UTİL-VI: 388)

enaga: wet nurse “sütanne” (OTTOL: 363)

Geographical distribution The Turkish Dictionary (Türkçe Sözlük) and The Compilation Dictionary (Derleme Sözlüğü) was searched in order to reveal the current extensions of the kinship terms related to women in the modern Uighur and Uzbek dialects. When the terms listed below were analysed, it was found that some words did not change at all and some of them underwent minor phonetical changes but lived in Turkish and Turkish accents with the same meaning. These words were also evidenced. The followings are the names some of the provinces, counties, towns and villages in Turkey. aba (I) [åpa Uz.]: elder sister — Afyon Karahisar: *villages of Dinar, Atlıhisar *Şuhut, İshaklı, *Bolvadin, *Emirdağ, Karacaahmet; Uşak: *Sivaslı and its villages, *villages of Eşme, *Karahallı; Isparta: Sağrak *Sütçüler, İlyas *Keçiborlu, Sarıidris, Akçaşar *Eğridir, Uluğbey, Yassıviran, *Senirkent, *Gelendost,*Yalvaç and its villages, Nudra *Şarki Karaağaç, Aliköy; Burdur: and its villages: Başpınar, Yayla *Tefenni, *Yeşilova and its villages, Çamköy *Gölhisar, Pazaravdan *Bucak; Denizli: Ekse *Çal, İğdir, Çıtak, Bulkaz *Çivril, Bereketli *Tavas, Beleve, *Acıpayam, Çardak, Başçeşme; Aydın: Çulhan, *Bozdoğan; İzmir: Çerçekli *Ödemiş, Falaka *Bayındır, *Bergama, Özbek *Urla, *Tire, Tepeköy *Torbalı; Manisa: Çepnidere, *Turgutlu, Kemaliye *Alaşehir, *Akhisar; Balıkesir and its surroundings: Pelitköy, Keremköy *Burhaniye, *İvrindi and its villages, Tütünlük, *Savaştepe; Çanakkale: Küçükkuyu, *Ayvacık, Fili *Biga, * villages of Ezine; Bursa: İsmetiye;

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Kütahya: Yenice, Hacıbekir, *Emet, *Simav; Bilecik: Akköy *Söğüt; Eskişehir: Çaykoz, Direk, *Sivrihisar, Şücaattin, *Seyitgazi, Satılmış, Yakakayı, Bozan; Kocaeli: *Kandıra; Bolu: *Düzce, *Akçakoca, Hüsamettindere *Göynük, İğneciler *Mudurnu, Tepe *Seben, Yeniçağa *Gerede, Dadıç, Akçakavak; Sakarya: *Akyazı and its surroundings; Zonguldak: *Safranbolu, Aliköy *Çaycuma, *Bartın; Kastamonu: *Taşköprü, Karabüzey *Araç, *Cide, *Kargı, *İnebolu; Çankırı: *Kurşunlu; Çorum and its villages: Çıkrık *Mecitözü; Sinop: *Boyabat; Samsun *Alaçam; Tokat: *Almus, *Zile and its surroundings, Hayati *Erbaa, Dereköy *Turhal, Necip, Kızılköy; Ordu and its districts: Yaztaş *Fatsa; Giresun and its villages: *Görele, Tepeköy, Piraziz, Burunucu, *Bulancak, *Keşap, *Tirebolu; Trabzon: Kalafka; Gümüşhane: villages of Kovans; Rize and its villages: Çataklıhoca *Çayeli; Artvin: Ersis, Erkinis, *Yusufeli, Çağlıyan and its surroundings, *Şavşat; Kars: Toreshev *Ardahan; Erzincan: *Refahiye; Van: *Erciş; Siirt: *Sasun; Diyarbakır; Urfa; Gaziantep: *Kilis and its villages; Maraş: Kitiz *Afşin; Hatay: *Antakya; Sivas: * villages of Gürün, Ağrakos; Yozgat and its villages: Sarıhamzalı *Sorgun, Karlı *Yerköy; Ankara: Derekışla *Bâlâ, Sobran *Nallıhan, Çanıllı *Ayaş, Yassıören and its surroundings; Kırşehir; Kayseri: Dadağı; Nevşehir: *Hacıbektaş, *Mucur; Niğde: Bahçeli, *Bor, Eskigümüş *Aksaray; Konya: *Ermenek and its villages, *Karaman, Ortaca *Akşehir; Adana: Kamışlı *Karaisalı; İçel: Köseçobanlı *Gülnar, *Mut and its villages, Ferhenk, *Anamur, *Silifke, * villages of Mersin; Antalya: Bağyaka, Çavdır *Finike, Güğü, *Elmalı, Kızılağaç *Gündoğmuş, Güzelsu, *Akseki, * villages of Gazipaşa, Yenidamlar, *Alanya, *Kaş; Muğla: Yakabağ *Fethiye, Yerkesik; Kırklareli: Hamitabat, *Lüleburgaz; Tekirdağ; Kıbrıs [DS, v. 1-1] ana [åna Ui. ~ ana Uz.]: mother [TS v. 1 - 102] apa (III-2) [åpa Uz.]: elder sister — İçel: İncekum, Sökün *Silifke [DS, v. 1-1] ayal (Ar.) [ayal Ui.]: wife [TS v. 1–171] bibi (I) [bibi Uz.]: grandmother — İzmir: Tahtacı Tribe, Narlıdere, Bornova; Balıkesir: *Edremit; Yozgat; Niğde; Kayseri: Ortaköy, *İncesu; Konya; Kerkük [DS, v. 2 – 678] cice [cice Ui.]: grandmother — Denizli: Kavakköy *Çivril; Bilecik: Pazarcık *Bozöyük; İstanbul: Yedikule; Gümüşhane: Uluşiran *Şiran; Kayseri, -İçel [DS, v. 3 – 957] eci [ecä Ui.]: elder sister — Kastamonu: *Tosya; Çankırı: Uğur, Müsellim; Çorum: Kuzuluk, Hacı Hamza *Osmancık, Sarin, Çukurköy, Kurusaray *İskilip, *Kargı; Sinop: *Boyabat, *Gerze; Samsun: *Alaçam, *Vezirköprü; Amasya: Belvar, *Merzifon, Sarayözü, *Ezine; Tokat: *Zile; Ordu: *Fatsa, Kuzköy, Karakuş, *Ünye, Armutlu, Aybastı; Ankara [DS, v. 5 – 1661] gelin [kelin Ui. ~ Uz.]: daughter-in-law [TS v. 1 – 832] hala (Ar.)] [xåla Uz.]: aunt [TS v. 1 – 930] hanım [xånim Uz.]: wife [TS v. 1 – 941] hatun [ḫotun Ui. ~ xåtin Uz.]: wife [TS v. 1 – 958] kaynana [qaynana ~ qaynåna Uz.]: mother-in-law [TS v. 2 – 1252]

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kız yeğen [qız ciyen Ui., qız jiyan Uz.]: niece [TS v. 2 – 2424] üvey ana [ögäy ana Ui. ~ ö’gayåna Uz.]: stepmother [TS v. 2 – 2321] üvey kız [ögäy qız Ui. ~ ö’gayqiz Uz.]: stepdaughter [TS v. 2 – 2321] valide (Ar.) [vålida Uz.]: mother [TS v. 2 – 2329] yenge [yenge Ui. ~ yängä Uz.]: aunt-in-law [TS v. 2 – 2430]

Conclusion In conclusion Modern Uighur and Modern Uzbek are rich in female kinship terminology like other Turkic languages. Modern Uighur has more female kinship terms by blood than Modern Uzbek. Modern Uzbek has more female kinship terms by marriage than Modern Uighur and Turkish. Modern Uighur has more female kinship terms through adoption than Uzbek and Modern Turkish. Both this diversity and richness in kinship terms and the spread of Turkish to a wide geography can be explained by the Turkish society’s life style. Woman related kinship and addressing words have a large number of marital and blood kinship terms in the Uighur and Uzbek dialects. This multitude of languages presents important findings about family structure, social and traditional rules of marriage in Turkish society. However, the words katta xåtin “first wife”, kundåsh “fellow wife”, xançe “wife, wife of khan”, xoca bike “wife of the boss”, inge “wet nurse to the king’s children”, as determined, provide information on the social status of women, as well as the terms that give direct information about the rules of marriage and social organizations of Turkish society. In addition, kinship terms such as qız jiyan “niece”; qız nabira “granddaughter”; qız nevara “granddaughter”; ö’gäyqız “stepdaughter”; asrandi qız “stepdaughter” report direct gender. In addition to the derivation of a different term for all kinds of kinship relations in Turkish, some kinship terms such as appaq “elder sister, maternal aunt (mother’s sister) paternal aunt (father’s sister)”; xanaça “mother-in-law; aunt-in-law”; çoñ apa “grandmother, aunt” meet more than one concept. It has been found that the words åna “mother”, ayal “wife”, ḫotun “wife”, kelin “daughter-in-law”, ögäy ana “stepmother”, ögäy qız “stepdaughter”, qız ciyen“niece”, yenge “aunt-in-law” in modern Uighur and the words ana “mother”, kelin “daughterin-law”, ö’gayåna “stepmother”, ö’gayqız “stepdaughter”, qaynana ~ qaynåna “motherin-law”, qız jiyan “niece”, vålida “mother”, xåla “aunt”, xånim “wife”, xåtin “wife”, yängä “aunt-in-law” in Uzbek live in Turkish with small phonetic changes but in the same sense when the words of kinship and addressing about women in Uighur and Uzbek dialects are examined. Today’s extensions of the words cice “grandmother” ecä “elder sister”, in Uighur and the words åpa “elder sister”, bibi “grandmother” in Uzbek were determined in Turkish dialects. Three of the words living in Turkish and Turkish dialects were taken from Arabic; others are archaic words of Turkish.

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These terms are a reflection of the common cultural link between Turkey Turkish from Oghuz group and Uighur and Uzbek dialects from Karluk group. Undoubtedly, this paper does not include all kinship and addressing statements about women in Uzbek and Modern Uighur dialects. The examination of other dictionaries and period texts related to these dialects can be further developed by future research.

Abbreviations Ar. Arabic DS Türkiye’de Halk Ağzından Derleme Sözlüğü OTİL O’zbak Tilining İzoxli Lug’ati OTTOL O’zbakcha-Turkcha va Turkcha-O’zbakcha Lug’at TS Türkçe Sözlük Uİ Uighur (Modern Uighur) UŞŞ Uyğur Şiviliri Sözligi UTİL Uyğur Tilining İzahlik Luğiti UZ Uzbek (Modern Uzbek) v. Volume

References Aksan, Doğan (2004). Türkçenin Sözvarlığı. Ankara: Engin Yayınevi. Binler, Mehmet Ziya (2007). Türk Dünyası Aile ve Akrabalık Terimleri Sözlüğü. İstanbul: Selenge Yayınları. Caferoğlu, Ahmet (1993). Eski Uygur Türkçesi Sözlüğü. Ankara: TDK Yayınları: 260. Clauson, Sir Gerard (1972). An Etymological Dictionary of Pre-Thirteenth-Century Turkish. Oxford. Çağatay, Saadet (1962), “Türkçede ’Kadın’ İçin Kullanılan Sözler”, TDAY-Belleten 1962, Ankara: TDK Yayınları. Ercilasun, A. Bican vd. (1991). Karşılaştırmalı Türk Lehçeleri Sözlüğü. Ankara: Kültür Bakanlığı: 1371, Kaynak Eserler: 54. Ğupuri, Ğulam (1986). Uyğur Şiviliri Sözlügi. Béyciŋ: Milletler Neşriyatı. Kara, Mehmet (2013). Names Of Kinship İn The Turkish Dialects of Southern Siberia (Tuğan-Çağın Tuğan-Tuus Attarı). Karadeniz Uluslararası Bilimsel Dergi, 1 (19), 336-343. Karahan, Akartürk (2006). “Tarihi Türk Dilinin Söz Varlığına Katkılar: Kadınla İlgili Kelimeler Üzerine”. Ankara: Bilkent Üniversitesi l. Uluslararası Büyük Türk Dili Kurultayı Bildiriler. Li, Yong-Sŏng (1999). Türk Dillerinde Akrabalık Adları. İstanbul: Simurg Yayınları.

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Necip, Emir Necipoviç (1995). Yeni Uygur Türkçesi Sözlüğü. Rusçadan Çev. İklil Kurban, Ankara: Atatürk Kültür, Dil ve Tarih Yüksek Kurumu TDK Yay.: 615. Mag’rufov, Z. M. (1981). O’zbak Tilining İzoxli Lug’ati. Moscva: Rus Tili Neşriyatı. Şeyh Süleyman Efendi (H.1298). Lüġat-ı Çaġatay ve Türkii-i Osmānii. İstanbul. Türk Dil Kurumu (1963–1982). Türkiye’de Halk Ağzından Derleme Sözlüğü I-XII. Ankara. Türk Dil Kurumu (1998). Türkçe Sözlük (I-II). Ankara: Türk Dil Kurumu Yayınları: 549. Wardhaugh, Ronald (2006). An Introduction to Sociolinguistics. Fifth Edition, UK: Blackwell Publishing. Yazıcı Şahin, Serpil (2013). “Orhun Yazıtları’nda Kadınla İlgili Sözvarlığı”. Kadın Kitabı (Ed. Prof. Dr. Münevver Tekcan), p. 93, Kocaeli: Umuttepe Yayınevi. Yakub, Abliz; Ğeyurani, Ğenizat; et al., (1990). Uyğur Tilining İzahlik Luğıti I. Urumçi: Milletler Neşriyatı. Yakub, Abliz; Ğeyurani, Ğenizat; et al., (1991). Uyğur Tilining İzahlik Luğıti II. Urumçi: Milletler Neşriyatı. Yakub, Abliz; Ğeyurani, Ğenizat; et al., (1992). Uyğur Tilining İzahlik Luğıti III. Urumçi: Milletler Neşriyatı. Yakub, Abliz; Ğeyurani, Ğenizat; et al. (1994). Uyğur Tilining İzahlik Luğıti IV. Urumçi: Milletler Neşriyatı. Yakub, Abliz; Ğeyurani, Ğenizat; et al., (1995). Uyğur Tilining İzahlik Luğıti V. Urumçi: Milletler Neşriyatı. Yakub, Abliz; Ğeyurani, Ğenizat; et al., (1998). Uyğur Tilining İzahlik Luğıti VI (Uygurcanın Açıklamalı Sözlüğü), Urumçi: Milletler Neşriyatı. Yusuf, Berdak (1993), Turkcha-O’zbakcha va O’zbakcha-Turkcha Lug’at, Toshkant: O’zbakiston Nashiryoti. Z. M. Mag’rufov (1981) O’zbak Tilining İzoxli Lug’ati, Moskva: Rus Tili Nashiryoti.

Giovanni Stary

Male Name-giving Principles of the Sibe People in Xinjiang In 1998, at the 41st PIAC Meeting in Majvik, Finland, I had the opportunity to analyse the male name-giving principles of the Manchu people. Altogether, I found 8 principles on which Manchu male names were based (see “Bibliography”). Recently published source material (see “Sources”) in Xinjiang allows us to extend this research to the Sibe people living on the southern banks of the Ili River, near the border with Kazakhstan, where part of them was transferred for strategic reasons in the second half of the 18th century from their native Manchuria. These transmigrants are well-known among scholars, especially linguists, since they preserved their native language (considered a Manchu dialect) and their customs, due to isolation in a predominant Turkic environment, till today. According to these Sibe sources, altogether 11 name-giving principles can be found, all of them referring to male names: female names are very rarely found and registered, since both Manchu and Sibe society were based on a military structure in which women very seldom played a noteworthy military or political role. If mentioned, women are generally given their family or clan-name (like in Chinese), and not their personal name. The following 11 principles were found for Sibe male names: 1. Names given according to the grandfather’s age at the moment of the child’s birth: in this case, Chinese numbers are generally used — for example: if the grandfather is 59 years old, the name of the newborn child will be Ušijio, from Chinese wu-shijiu. The same custom also existed among the Manchus. 2. Names given according to the new-born’s look, for example: if the child is vigorous (baturu), his name could be Baturbai; if the child is meagre, he could be called Macuhūn, which means ‘meagre’ — a word, found in Sibe and not in Manchu. If the child is big, his name could be Golminj’i, from Manchu golmin ‘long’. If a child is born with a black spot on the face, the name could be Tašibai, which is probably connected with the Sibe word tase ‘spot’. Inexplicable are the following names and their interpretations given in Sibe sources: Suyalti, a name given to children born with “yellow hair” (suwayan funiyehe). The first syllable su- is probably connected with suwayan. Fulgiyan Motike: — “Red Motike”: a name given to a child with a red (fulgiyan) birth-mark (caramu) on the head. The meaning and origin of “motike” remains unclear. 3. The third group of name-giving principles is also found in Manchu, and it is the sequence of the childrens’ birth: so we have the names Amba Hahajui (‘Great = Giovanni Stary, University of Venice, Italy https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-018

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first son’), Jacin (‘Second’), Ilaci (‘Third’), etc. The last son is called Ajiyaji (< ajige ‘little’), ‘Small(est) = Last one’. 4. The fourth group consists of names related to objects; the Manchu sources say that they may refer to the first object the mother has seen after having given birth to a child, — a theory which is not always applicable to the Sibe world, for example: – Seletu < sele “iron”; – Wehetu < wehe “stone” – Dombur = a Sibe fiddle; – Tura = “pillar”; – Aha or Aga = “rain” – Ajiboo = “small house” 5. The fifth group refers to animals: – Tukšan = “calf”, – Tasha = “tiger”, – Dorgon = “badger”, – Ajibal = “little Pekinese-dog” (composed by aji ‘little’, and Chinese baer[gou] ‘Pekinese (dog)’ – Ambal = “big Pekinese-dog” (composed by amba ‘big’ and — like above — Chinese baer[gou]). It may indicate a Chow-chow dog. – Kesiketu < kesike = “cat”. 6. The sixth group refers, according to our sources, to “flowers and birds”: – Bojiri = Chrysanthemum, – Nenden = Plum, – Jamur = Rose (< jamu), – Inggel = is probably the Sibe form of Chinese Ingge “parrot”, in written Manchu ingguhe. – Saksaha = Magpie. 7. The next group, one of the richest in Sibe name-giving principles, indicates splendour, brightness, good omina etc.: – Eldeke (< eldembi = ‘to shine’) may refer to “glory”. – Elden: the same meaning as above. – Šulden is probably connected with Manchu šun “Sun”, and suggests the idea of “sunshine”, – Getuken = ‘clear’, – Jalafungga = “possessing long life”, 8. The names of the eighth group express wishes: – Acabu = “be in harmony”, – Bayanji = “be rich”, – Jalungga = “be full” (with precious things?), = rich? – Fulungga = “grand, majestic”, 9. Under the ninth group names expressing expectations, hopes and good qualities are found:

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– Mutebu = “be successful”, – Faššangga = “meritorious”, – Kicengge = “diligent”, – Silin = “elite”, – Icingga = “expert”. 10. This group is rather puzzling: it contains names which are called “repulsive” (fusihūn) in Sibe, and the reason of its usage was for long time unknown. Examples: – Jeksetu, indicating a “disgusting person” (< Sibe jeksecuke ‘abominable’), – Fatan, meaning “shoe-sole”, – Holo, meaning “bowl” in Sibe (and also “pumpkin”), in Manchu “false”, (but also “valley” etc.) Sibe sources now reveal: “Since before the liberation the hygienic situation (banjirman) in hospitals was inadequate and many children died, the superstitious people believed in the influence of bad spirits; as a deterrent they gave to children repulsive names which were not accepted in the underworld” (“Sources”, p. 533). The 11th group is composed of Chinese names in Manchu transcription (for instance: Siyoocang < Xiaochang), and shows the progressive process of sinicization.

Sources and Bibliography Heling & Tungkiri: Sibe uksurai an tacin. Urumqi: Sinjiyang niyalma irgen čubanše, 1989 (pp. 532–534: “Gebu sindara an tacin”). Stary, Giovanni: “Manchu names and some problems concerning their transcription”. In: J. Janhunen & V. Rybatzki (eds): Writing in the Altaic World. Helsinki: Finnish Oriental Society, “Studia Orientalia” 87, 1999. pp. 245–251.

Kinga Szálkai

Women and Soviet Acculturation in Central Asia before the Second World War In the first decades of the twentieth century, the so-called women question became a significant matter of concern in many parts of Europe and Asia, and especially in the Muslim East. The discourse about the emancipation and empowerment of women typically became intertwined with the process of modernization, and it went hand-inhand with an attack on traditional, often religious ways of life.1 The gender question was an important issue for the Soviet regime as well. Its attempts to foster the empowerment of women led to the most visible outcomes in the former southern territories of Tsarist Russia.2 However, in spite of these outcomes of the Soviet endeavour, the empowerment of Central Asian women could only reach its declared objectives on the surface. The process, at the end of the day, left these women in a liminal space between modernisation and tradition, and made Soviet Central Asian society two-faced and controversial in terms of gender equality. In this paper, I would like to reflect on the complex and often controversial situation of Soviet Central Asian women, which can go back to the parallel coexistence of the Soviet modernist and local traditionalist norms and values. When we consider the course of history, we can see that imperial endeavours and ambitions were often accompanied by the intention of changing traditional societies and cultures through the influence of an imperial power to its own image.3 Such acts of modernisation attempted to alter the very core of subordinated traditional societies. Therefore, besides the thoroughly emphasized aim of civilisation and empowerment, they also served as tools for the settlement of the external influence of imperial powers. The role of women in the given traditional societies frequently played a very significant part in these processes. They usually acted as the main preservers of traditional identities, therefore winning their hearts and minds was a key component to success.4

1 Ronald Inglehart and Wayne E. Baker, “Modernization, Cultural Change, and the Persistence of Traditional Values,” American Sociological Review 65 (2000): 20. Catherine V. Scott, “Tradition and Gender in Modernization Theory,” in Gender and Development, ed. Catherine V. Scott (Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 1996), 23–32. 2 Cf. Gregory J. Massell, Moslem Women and Revolutionary Strategies in Soviet Central Asia, 1919–1929 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1974). 3 Franz Altheim, Entwicklungshilfe im Altertum (Hamburg: Rowohlt, 1962), 7–19. 4 Cf. Susan Starr Sered, “Women, Religion, and Modernization,” American Anthropologist 92 (1990): 306–318. Kinga Szálkai, PhD, assistant professor, Eötvös Loránd University, Hungary https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-019

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When the Bolshevik revolution ousted the Tsarist regime, one of the main concerns of the new rule was the question of Muslim Central Asia. On the basis of MarxistLeninist ideology, the Soviet leaders felt the urge to very clearly refuse and condemn the former colonial-imperial power over this area, while in practice they sorely needed the natural resources of the region for the consolidation of the new regime. In this situation, they tried to implement a theoretical programme of modernising Central Asian societies. In this way, the new regime could ensure its influence over the region, while the proposed empowerment of ‘backward’ societies met the requirements of the Marxist-Leninist ideology.5 The subsequent attack on traditional relations had a special focus on Central Asian women. The civilizing mission of the Soviet regime was assumed to bring equality to its Central Asian republics in gender relations as well. This was not exceptional in that period of time; among others, Turkey, Afghanistan and Iran6 also took significant steps for the emancipation of women in the name of modernisation. The Soviet feminine ideal type bore the features of a woman who is equal with man in both the public and private spheres, takes part in political activities, is economically self-sufficient, has equal access to the benefits of the labour market, and is empowered by the state services of education and healthcare.7 This ideal type was certainly the transmitter of emancipation and empowerment, but it is also important to highlight the fact that it also transmitted Soviet cultural patterns, becoming inseparable from external influence on traditional Central Asian societies. The traditional Central Asian woman, similarly to the widespread classical stereotypical image of womanhood, had her domain in the private sphere, at home, and only in exceptional cases in the public sphere. Women’s everyday activities gathered around the traditional feminine roles of being a good daughter, a good wife and a good mother. They acted as the main transmitters of traditions within the family and the closer community, and they were the protectors of family honour with their conservative, secluded way of life and modest, obedient behaviour. In exchange, men provided them with the necessary goods, and carried the economic burden for the maintenance of the family.8 There was an antagonistic conflict between the new and the traditional models of feminine values, which became quickly visible in the 1920s, when the Soviet regime

5 Francine Hirsch, Empire of Nations: Ethnographic Knowledge and the Making of the Soviet Union (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2005), 62–65. 6 Adrienne Edgar, “Bolshevism, Patriarchy, and the Nation: The Soviet ‘Emancipation’ of Muslim Women in Pan-Islamic Perspective,” Slavic Review 65 (2006): 261–263. 7 Cf. Barbara Evans Clements, “The Birth of the New Soviet Woman,” in Bolshevik Culture: Experiment and Order in the Russian Revolution, eds. Abbott Gleason, Peter Kenez and Richard Stites (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985), 220–37. 8 Sergei Petrovich Poliakov, Everyday Islam: Religion and Tradition in Rural Central Asia (Armonk: ME Sharpe, 1992), 83–86.

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began to enact several laws and other regulations in order to spread the Soviet model of feminine behaviour.9 These laws and regulations aimed to eliminate traditional practices, which, in the eyes of the Communist power, were obvious signs of feminine subordination and oppression, contributing to the seclusion of women.10 Among these practices, many customs were considered essential for preserving a family’s honour and/or for complying with the expectations of traditional authorities and communities, such as veiling, polygamy, child marriage, bride-price, forced and arranged marriage, bride eloping and arbitrary divorce. The traditional societies of Soviet Central Asia insisted on their own norms and values, and tried to preserve them with every possible means, from small legal shortcuts to brutal violence. For the former, the practice of polygamy or paying the brideprice were common examples. In the first instance, husbands often exploited the double standards of Soviet and Islamic law, marrying their first wife according to state conventions, and taking the second or third on the basis of Islamic traditional customs.11 In the second instance, the bride-price was simply paid secretly, or under other labels.12 As for brutal violence, it was not uncommon to mutilate, rape or even kill unveiled women, especially in the rural areas of Uzbekistan and Tajikistan during the 1920s and the 1930s. These women were many times considered as bringing shame to the names and namus of their families.13 According to the study of Marianne Kamp, only between 1927 and 1929, around 2,000 women were killed in Uzbekistan as a response to the hujum, the most intense unveiling campaign carried out by Soviet authorities.14 Violence against women who transgressed traditional gender norms was also present in those places where the veil was not common, like Turkmenistan.15 Misunderstandings and even the complete lack of understanding from the side of the Soviet regime could frequently lead to the opposite effect of what the governing authorities meant to reach. A vivid example for this is again the question of the bride-price, which was eliminated in order to erase the perceived objectification and unequal status of women. The implementation of the law just further decreased the status of daughters within the family, and further contributed to the economic dependence of women.16 Furthermore, the insistence of the Soviet regime on changing tradi-

9 Maxine Molyneux, “The ‘Woman Question’ in the Age of Perestroika,” New Left Review 183 (1990): 25. 10 Edgar, “Bolshevism, Patriarchy, and the Nation,” 252. 11 Edgar, “Bolshevism, Patriarchy, and the Nation,” 269. Douglas Northrop, Veiled Empire: Gender and Power in Stalinist Central Asia (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2004), 250–252. 12 Adrienne Edgar, “Emancipation of the Unveiled: Turkmen Women under Soviet Rule, 1924–1929,” Russian Review 62 (January 2003): 139–144. 13 Northrop, Veiled Empire, 95–96. 14 Marianne Kamp, The New Woman in Uzbekistan: Islam, Modernity, and Unveiling Under Communism (Seattle and London: University of Washington Press, 2006), 186. 15 Cf. Edgar, “Emancipation of the Unveiled.” 16 Edgar, “Emancipation of the Unveiled,” 140–141.

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tional values led to the fact that following these values became a political statement, a political tool, as the expression of hostility and resistance against Soviet influence.17 Hence, the fate of Central Asian women became a theoretical terrain for the clash of local traditional and Soviet modernizing forces. It became unambiguous after the first decade of Soviet rule that neither one of the two forces could fully overcome or eliminate its alternative. The ideological choice between the two complex ways of life gradually gave way to an acculturation process, to a process of mutual adaptation, which was built on a sequence of compromises. During the 1920s and 1930s, the interaction between the several Soviet campaigns aiming to liberate and empower the Central Asian population and the local answers of refusal and condemnation led to many changes in the initial expectations on both sides.18 In this way, the originally alternative ways of life gradually became complementary in many senses. Through this acculturation process, however, women became liminal beings at the crossroads of bipolar expectations and values belonging to the very different feminine ideal types of traditional and Soviet frameworks. For example, veiled women of rural Uzbekistan in the 1920s and 1930s were subjects of agitation against the veil from the side of the state, while unveiled women often suffered from constant mockery from the side of the family and the closer community.19 The parallel presence of the two systems of norms not only led to a significant change in the roles of women; it also contributed to the restructuring of the whole area of Central Asian social life in general, and to the development of a special double consciousness among all layers of the societies. The Soviet power managed to solidify its influence in the public sphere and turned it into its own domain, which was dominated by modern values. In the meantime, the private sphere remained the exclusionary domain of families and local communities, embodying the world of traditional values.20 At the end of this restructuration, the developing and forming liminal position of women gradually became a norm in Central Asia. The ideal types of the modern Soviet and the traditional Central Asian woman realized themselves through the acculturation process in many different forms, the features of which were determined by several different factors, such as nationality, ethnicity, religion, age, being rural or urban, or the expectations of the family and the neighbourhood. Women, who belonged to different social layers, represented significantly different interests.21 In spite of the individual differences, they were similar in one remarkable aspect: they lived

17 Northrop, Veiled Empire, 108. 18 Northrop, Veiled Empire, 344–347. 19 Caroline Kennedy-Pipe, “Whose Security? State-Building and the ‘Emancipation’ of Women in Central Asia,” International Relations 91 (2004): 104–105. 20 Poliakov, Everyday Islam, 143. Nayereh Tohidi, “Soviet in Public, Azeri in Private,” Women’s Studies International Forum 19 (1996): 113–114. 21 Northrop, Veiled Empire, 87–88.

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in an in-between position between the traditional and the modern systems of values. The modern public and the traditional private spheres worked on the basis of a silent compromise, showing mutual respect for each other’s domains, in order to be able to maintain theirs. In the meantime, women were burdened by contradictory expectations from both sides. The issue of the paranja, thoroughly examined by Douglas Northrop in his work Veiled Empire offers an illustrative case study about the compromise concerning the situation of women. The issue of the legal ban on wearing the paranja, a heavy cotton robe that covered the entire body of women, and its chachvon, a kind of veil made of horsehair, covering the face and the neck, which was characteristic in Uzbekistan, was raised several times before the Second World War in Soviet Central Asia. However, Soviet authorities kept refraining from the codification of such a law, even against the visible support from many different layers of the society. On the one hand, the authorities were worried about their credibility. It was perfectly clear to them that considering the attitude of the society towards the earlier attempts to eliminate these pieces of attire, the practical implementation of an official ban on the paranja and the chachvon could not have been successful at all. A mistake like this would have cast a sense of failure on the so far widely praised emancipation process. On the other hand, in the light of the already mentioned violence against unveiled women and propaganda workers, and after some cases of sporadic local unrest, the authorities could not ignore the possibility of erupting social tensions as a response either. Meanwhile, the Uzbek society attempted to demonstrate its unconditional commitment and insistence on the traditional values in this question with every possible tool. Nothing shows their commitment better than the fact that the number of women donning paranja and chachvon increased under the fiercest attack against them.22 As this issue also indicates, although the outcomes of the Soviet-led modernisation and empowerment process in Central Asia may seem convincing at first, a closer examination shows that the process, similarly to other comparable attempts like Turkey or Afghanistan or Iran in this era, was highly controversial. Under the empowered public surface, traditional gender roles and patriarchal male-female relations were maintained at the private level of the family and the community. The subsequent liminal place of women between the two levels, therefore, signifies the partiality of modernisation and empowerment, and the persisting influence of patriarchal traditional values. Under the given circumstances, all these elements can be considered as a part of the price, which the Soviet regime paid for its presence in Central Asia.

22 Northrop, Veiled Empire, 284–313.

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Bibliography Altheim, Franz. Entwicklungshilfe im Altertum. Hamburg: Rowohlt, 1962. Edgar, Adrienne. “Bolshevism, Patriarchy, and the Nation: The Soviet ‘Emancipation’ of Muslim Women in Pan-Islamic Perspective.” Slavic Review 65 (2006): 252–272. Edgar, Adrienne. “Emancipation of the Unveiled: Turkmen Women under Soviet Rule, 1924–1929.” Russian Review 62 (January 2003): 132–149. Evans Clements, Barbara. “The Birth of the New Soviet Woman.” In Bolshevik Culture: Experiment and Order in the Russian Revolution, edited by Abbott Gleason, Peter Kenez and Richard Stites, 220–37. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985. Hirsch, Francine. Empire of Nations: Ethnographic Knowledge and the Making of the Soviet Union. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2005. Inglehart, Ronald and Wayne E. Baker. “Modernization, Cultural Change, and the Persistence of Traditional Values.” American Sociological Review 65 (2000): 19–51. Kamp, Marianne. The New Woman in Uzbekistan: Islam, Modernity, and Unveiling Under Communism. Seattle and London: University of Washington Press, 2006. Kennedy-Pipe, Caroline. “Whose Security? State-Building and the ‘Emancipation’ of Women in Central Asia.” International Relations 91 (2004): 104–105. Massell, Gregory J. Moslem Women and Revolutionary Strategies in Soviet Central Asia, 1919–1929. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1974. Molyneux, Maxine. “The ‘Woman Question’ in the Age of Perestroika.” New Left Review 183 (1990): 23–59. Northrop, Douglas. Veiled Empire: Gender and Power in Stalinist Central Asia. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2004. Poliakov, Sergei Petrovich. Everyday Islam: Religion and Tradition in Rural Central Asia. Armonk: ME Sharpe, 1992. Scott, Catherine V. “Tradition and Gender in Modernization Theory.” In Gender and Development, written by Catherine V. Scott, 23–32. Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 1996. Sered, Susan Starr. “Women, Religion, and Modernization.” American Anthropologist 92 (1990): 306–318. Tohidi, Nayereh. “Soviet in Public, Azeri in Private.” Women’s Studies International Forum 19 (1996): 111–123.

Münevver Tekcan

Gender Projection/Perception in the Babur-nāma Introduction Gender is expressed and experienced in many ways and throughout history has changed many times. The Khanate in the Babur-nāma not only shaped the role of men and women but it was constructed by them. There are mirror relationship between stereotype and archetype (Kelly 1996) as one is constructed from the other. The Babur-nāma contains the memories of a 16th century boy Emperor in Central Asia. It can and has been used as a historical document to extract historical facts and it is also used as a historical narrative and ideology. Babur was born into the rarefied atmosphere of the Khanate. He was a boy and a member of the aristocracy. He was a member of royalty destined to follow the footsteps of his ancestors and to become Emperor (Jung 1986). I have used a method of Jung binary archetypes and stereotypes (Jung 1986) to examine gender and identity in the Babur-nāma. In this Babur is an actor performing a narrative as an objective to aim for (Kelly 1996).

Archetypes and Stereotypes At the beginning of the 20th century Carl Jung (1875-1961), a Swiss psychologist, devised a method of using archetypes on patients to analyse behaviour. He devised a complex set of relationships between a large number of archetypes to create individual profiles. By categorising different archetypes and profiles he was able to build a structure to explore different personalities (Yardly 2008-2010). By using some of Jung’s theories of archetypes I have been able to make an analogue of parts of the Baburnāma. Jung’s theories may seem out of place in the 21st century yet they lie closer to the experiences of Babur. Jung argued that archetypes were universal and could explain behaviour and in turn society. Even though everybody is different, people have a lot in common. Within the ranks of the royal classes, men and women lived their lives to two very different tunes. Men and women experience life through masculine and feminine tinted glasses. A rigid social structure and set of circumstances are projected on the members of the Khanate and Harem creating different identities. Münevver Tekcan, Department of Turkish Language and Literature, Kocaeli University, Türkiye https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-020

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Jung’s archetypes can be divided into the four classical astrological groups: earth, air, fire and water. Each element is then subdivided into three levels of depth of personality; Ego, (most superficial), Soul (personal unconscious) and Self (collective unconscious). For each of the twelve combinations I have quoted a list of traits and have tried to identify people or incidents in theBabur-nāma.

1. Innocent Table 1: Matrix of Jung’s Archetypes by Element and Personality: The Innocent

1. Ego 2. Soul 3. Self

1. Earth

2. Air

3. Fire

4. Water

1.1 Innocent 1.2 Explorer 1.3 Jester

2.1 Orphan 2.2 Rebel 2.3 Sage

3.1 Hero 3.2 Lover 3.3 Magician

4.1 Caregiver 4.2 Creator 4.3 Ruler

In an illustration to accompany the text of the Babur-nāma Babur is shown in a garden with a book. He is represented as a young man, in good health enjoying what society can give him. The garden and nature are represented as something given by God and enjoyed by man. This is not Babur as he is but is an image of how he wants other people to see him. Babur wears a skilfully embroidered shirt and leggings with flower motifs on a red background. The red is suggestive of earth and bodily warmth providing a safe environment for the plants to grow. His clothes are part of his ego. He wants to be seen as a symbol of learning, but more importantly as Figure 1: Babur as a a source and an agent of knowledge and education. Babur ofyoung man fers an open book to a point outside the frame of the miniature, his pose is slightly contrived. There are outside pressures on Babur, to perform a performance, it is a product of a culture apart from our own (Fukuyama 2011).

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Table 2: Matrix of Jung’s Archetypes by Element and Personality: The Orphan

1. Ego 2. Soul 3. Self

1. Earth

2. Air

3. Fire

4. Water

1.1 Innocent 1.2 Explorer 1.3 Jester

2.1 Orphan 2.2 Rebel 2.3 Sage

3.1 Hero 3.2 Lover 3.3 Magician

4.1 Caregiver 4.2 Creator 4.3 Ruler

2. Orphan In the early stages of Babur’s life he is left in what he calls a “throneless time/fatrat.” (B18/f8b)1 In other parts he is left isolated. Babur has a better time and finds solace with his sister, mother and other female relatives. There is a clear difference between male and female and between Khanate and blood relationships. The Khanate is dominant for men as is the harem for women. Over and above the official establishment there are blood relationships centred around the matriarch which sets the Babur-nāma apart from its historic function.

3. Hero Table 3: Matrix of Jung’s Archetypes by Element and Personality: The Hero

1. Ego 2. Soul 3. Self

1. Earth

2. Air

3. Fire

4. Water

1.1 Innocent 1.2 Explorer 1.3 Jester

2.1 Orphan 2.2 Rebel 2.3 Sage

3.1 Hero 3.2 Lover 3.3 Magician

4.1 Caregiver 4.2 Creator 4.3 Ruler

Women perform an important part in war after the fighting. They are exchanged with the spoils of conflict. They carry complex messages in the end game yet their stereotype is the antitheses of reality. Women accept their duty without asking questions. The archetype woman is silent. Those who speak out are severely reprimanded. Women are unexpressed heroes and like a foundation to a building they support the edifice of Empire. In the Babur-nāma Aisan Bugha “he had just taken to wife Yūnas Khān’s elder sister, the former wife of ʿAbdul ʿAziz Mirza [Shahrukhi]” (B20/f10b) she is not named.

1 All quotes from the Babur-nāma refer to Beveridge (1922) and are indicated as “B”. Manuscript folio numbers are indicated as “f”.

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The Babur-nāma writes “he invited Yūnas Khān from Khusāsān […], made a feast, became friends and proclaimed him [Yunus] Khān of the Mughūls.” (B20/f10b). Symbolism carries more weight. “They then seated him and her on one and the same white felt and raised him to the Khānship.” (B21/f10b) Khanate history is passed on through performance of hero and heroine.

4. Caregiver Table 4: Matrix of Jung’s Archetypes by Element and Personality: The Caregiver

1. Ego 2. Soul 3. Self

1. Earth

2. Air

3. Fire

4. Water

1.1 Innocent 1.2 Explorer 1.3 Jester

2.1 Orphan 2.2 Rebel 2.3 Sage

3.1 Hero 3.2 Lover 3.3 Magician

4.1 Caregiver 4.2 Creator 4.3 Ruler

Cities like Samarkand were fought over fearlessly, besieged and exchanged many times. Tens of thousands of fighting men were killed in battles. Leadership of empire was often carried out by drunk or drugged men yet Babur cared through empathy and fought with his troops. The moral behaviour by some of the aristocracy was questionable. The peasants’ standard of life was very low, yet there was little dissent and civil unrest. Babur saw his troops as actors of a role that was part of God’s plan. God could not change the future, whatever was going to happen was going to happen. To question God’s plan was wrong. The future was inevitable, from the lowest of the low to the highest of the high the future could not be changed. The death of Babur’s father and Babur’s succession to the throne, the endless battles he fought, the temptation to drink wine and his renunciation of drinking wine were all part of God’s plan. The Babur-nāma claimed to make Babur’s life transparent, he said now it is for all to read. The care-giving shown in the Babur-nāma is from man to man. It is shown in situations of war and conflict. The type of care administered reaches above the concept of medicine and appeals directly to a belief in a super-natural order.

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Table 5: Matrix of Jung’s Archetypes by Element and Personality: The Explorer

1. Ego 2. Soul 3. Self

1. Earth

2. Air

3. Fire

4. Water

1.1 Innocent 1.2 Explorer 1.3 Jester

2.1 Orphan 2.2 Rebel 2.3 Sage

3.1 Hero 3.2 Lover 3.3 Magician

4.1 Caregiver 4.2 Creator 4.3 Ruler

5. Explorer Babur was an explorer. He was a keen traveller and shared many of his experiences through his writing. He did more than just travel through the countryside, he explored its history and through this he revealed something about himself. In one of Babur’s letters delivered from Hindustan to Khwaja Kalan, there is an expression of personal feelings, apprehension of the future and a boundless and infinite desire to see Kabul and its provinces. Babur asks, “How should a person forget the pleasant things of those countries? […] How should he banish from his mind the permitted flavours of melons and grapes?” (B645/f359) This is a very poignant moment of the letter as he breaks apart his uncertainty and takes it into his body through his lips. “Taking this opportunity, a melon is brought to me; to cut and eat it affected me strangely; I was all tears!” (B645/f359) The melon is a metonym of the wine repented and the fruit once tasted and now cut open to a new life. These words express Babur’s sense of a longing homesick feeling and yearning for Turkistan.

6. Rebel Table 6: Matrix of Jung’s Archetypes by Element and Personality: The Rebel

1. Ego 2. Soul 3. Self

1. Earth

2. Air

3. Fire

4. Water

1.1 Innocent 1.2 Explorer 1.3 Jester

2.1 Orphan 2.2 Rebel 2.3 Sage

3.1 Hero 3.2 Lover 3.3 Magician

4.1 Caregiver 4.2 Creator 4.3 Ruler

Within the Babur-nāma the Khanate was a central institution of the status quo and a display of male dominance. Wine parties were an important aspect of male social life. They were held to celebrate events such as victory in battle and rites of passage that marked and ensured stability and continued life in the Khanate. Even though drinking

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wine and the consumption of intoxicants was prohibited under Islamic teaching, men seemed to be able to accommodate any apparent contradiction. Wine parties were a ‘public’ display of masculinity. Women did occasionally cross the boundary and both men and women did drink together. In the Babur-nāma, Hulhul was in a position to request and was granted permission to drink with Babur. Her archetype is rebel, in that she makes the transition to drink with Babur. It is anticonvention, anti-Khanate and anti-Islam. Hulhul takes advantage of the position that the men of the Khanate have brought her in. She experiences life through her female gender but is limited by her gender to express that gender.

7. Lover Table 7: Matrix of Jung’s Archetypes by Element and Personality: The Lover

1. Ego 2. Soul 3. Self

1. Earth

2. Air

3. Fire

4. Water

1.1 Innocent 1.2 Explorer 1.3 Jester

2.1 Orphan 2.2 Rebel 2.3 Sage

3.1 Hero 3.2 Lover 3.3 Magician

4.1 Caregiver 4.2 Creator 4.3 Ruler

The Babur-nāma is the object or source documented by, witnessed by and experienced by the men and women of the time. Descriptions of their emotions are kept to a minimum. Human love is hardly mentioned and where it is there is uncertainty and disquietude. This could be seen to show the extent and effectiveness of the Khanate’s control and suppression of anything that may disrupt gender stereotypes. The Babur-nāma writes very little about standard stereotyped heterosexual boy / girl — man / woman love. After writing about his feelings of difficulty and awkwardness towards his wife, Babur expresses his emotions towards a boy he met in a bazar. In contrast to the detachment he felt towards his own wife Babur writes of a newly discovered love “I discovered in myself a strange inclination, nay! […]” (B120/f75b) Love in the positive sense of the word does not seem to be a major aspect of life in the Khanate, especially when it comes to human relationships and love. Romantic verse is a major topic of conversation in groups of men in the army and other places. Barbur’s love directed to men and women was unsuccessful but directed towards different objects, love could be maintained, his life-long helpers in fine arts, his love of nature and his admiration for great architectural creations. Under these circumstances the Khanate could not loose ensuring that man and women had their place, separately.

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8. Creator Table 8: Matrix of Jung’s Archetypes by Element and Personality: The Creator

1. Ego 2. Soul 3. Self

1. Earth

2. Air

3. Fire

4. Water

1.1 Innocent 1.2 Explorer 1.3 Jester

2.1 Orphan 2.2 Rebel 2.3 Sage

3.1 Hero 3.2 Lover 3.3 Magician

4.1 Caregiver 4.2 Creator 4.3 Ruler

From designing gardens to building an Empire, Babur had many acts of creation attributed to his name. Even the Babur-nāma was an act of his creation. The power structures in the court ensured that Babur and Empire would be credited with the culture, education and art. As for women, arguably like today, women had to work extra hard to achieve the same results as their male counter parts (Lambert 2016). However some were able to find and use channels not open to men. Babur gave great credit to his grandmother who helped him in personal, domestic and family matters but more importantly she gave him advice in affairs of state. Babur’s Khanate era is strongly dominated by patriarchal control in the Khanate. The chaste image of the Khanate women is built or [de]constructed through various strict secluding measures. As women were excluded from debate, finding a means of expression was very difficult.

9. Jester Table 9: Matrix of Jung’s Archetypes by Element and Personality: The Jester

1. Ego 2. Soul 3. Self

1. Earth

2. Air

3. Fire

4. Water

1.1 Innocent 1.2 Explorer 1.3 Jester

2.1 Orphan 2.2 Rebel 2.3 Sage

3.1 Hero 3.2 Lover 3.3 Magician

4.1 Caregiver 4.2 Creator 4.3 Ruler

Babur writes about practical jokes played by young boys on unsuspecting adults and of a gap between childhood and adolescence in which he is allowed a freedom that is about to end.

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Babur is becoming an adult. The jester takes trivia to undermine convention. Following a gross neglect of diplomacy and failure to complement Babur’s victory in battle, the Babur-nāma turns to bedroom farce, Babur writes, “Muḥammad Ḥusayn Mīrzā in his terror having run away into Khānīm’s bedding-room and got himself fastened up in a bundle of bedding.” (B319/f201b). This minor indiscretion is a performance enacted at two levels. The jester appeals to our conscious and subconscious. After Mirza’s capture and confiscation of property, Babur writes “I rose at once to receive the Mīrzā with my usual deference, not even shewing too harsh a face.” (B319/f201b) Babur takes action. “If I had had that Muḥ. Ḥusayn M. cut in pieces, there was the ground for it that he had had part in base and shameful action, started and spurred on mutiny and treason. Death he deserved with one after another of varied pain and torture.” (B319/f201b) Babur’s justice is not always humane as he writes.

10. Sage Table 10: Matrix of Jung’s Archetypes by Element and Personality: The Sage

1. Ego 2. Soul 3. Self

1. Earth

2. Air

3. Fire

4. Water

1.1 Innocent 1.2 Explorer 1.3 Jester

2.1 Orphan 2.2 Rebel 2.3 Sage

3.1 Hero 3.2 Lover 3.3 Magician

4.1 Caregiver 4.2 Creator 4.3 Ruler

The Babur era is strongly dominated by patriarchal control over the women of Babur’s court. The chaste image of the women in Babur’s court is built or constructed through various strict secluding measures. Finding a means of expression was very difficult. Analysis of the norms of chastity, seclusion and pleasure, sharpen the questions that surround women’s sexuality in Babur’s household. Women are excluded from debate. Male/male relationships were not unusual. Babur found the space for expression restrictive and did not experience love returned. The archetype man does battle and is associated with action. The archetype woman offers advice and is associated with guidance. In the Babur-nāma Babur’s grandmother, Aisan Daulat Begum is given credit for the help and advice she gave Babur. Her expression of gender is minimal but is able to influence society and culture more than men.

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11. Magician Table 11: Matrix of Jung’s Archetypes by Element and Personality: The Magician

1. Ego 2. Soul 3. Self

1. Earth

2. Air

3. Fire

4. Water

1.1 Innocent 1.2 Explorer 1.3 Jester

2.1 Orphan 2.2 Rebel 2.3 Sage

3.1 Hero 3.2 Lover 3.3 Magician

4.1 Caregiver 4.2 Creator 4.3 Ruler

In the Babur-nāma life is exchanged. Babur’s men and women can initiate change but the Khanate is built on the father/son relationship. Everything is passed down through the male line. Ultimately Babur acts out the role of magician of change and [ex]changes his life for the life of his son. On one occasion while Humayun was in Sambhal, he “had a violent attack of fever.” (B701) Nobody knew what to do or how to help him. Babur “resolved to practise the rite believed […] to be valid, of intercession and devotion of a suppliant’s most valued possession in exchange for a sick man’s life.” (B702) In other words he had to exchange his most valuable possession, which his counsel said, was the Koh-i-nur diamond for the life of his son. This brings together two most important members of the Khanate, Babur and his son and the occult which is the magician, signifier of change. Women do not enter into this scene, they are not even observers. A father’s concern for his son replaces a mother’s concern. The rite is overturned. Babur and his son Humayun both became Khan on the death of their fathers, both were born into and predestined to become part of history. Their ancestors Genghis Khan and Timur would cast a shadow over their lives. A passage of rites passed them from age to age. Babur believed that an act of an old rite had given his son passage to the next act. Even though Babur had not reached the last age he had acted out his last performance.

12. Ruler Table 12: Matrix of Jung’s Archetypes by Element and Personality: The Ruler

1. Ego 2. Soul 3. Self

1. Earth

2. Air

3. Fire

4. Water

1.1 Innocent 1.2 Explorer 1.3 Jester

2.1 Orphan 2.2 Rebel 2.3 Sage

3.1 Hero 3.2 Lover 3.3 Magician

4.1 Caregiver 4.2 Creator 4.3 Ruler

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As ruler of an empire Babur was an instrument of power to the Khanate. The Baburnāma begins with the birth of Babur from the womb of his mother and ends with his death from a belief in an ancient ritual. Archetype and stereotype merge together in birth and death, beginning and end complete a cycle of the human condition. The Babur-nāma goes beyond this, it is the rule of something greater creating class and gender imbibed in social structure. Babur as the Ruler of Babur’s Empire was in the best position to witness what Empire and Khanate stood for. The Empire was the embodiment of an ideology passed down from Genghis Khan, through his mother, Qutlug Nigar Khanım and from Timur, through his father, Umar Sheikh Mirza (Enterprise Team 2003). The Khanate was the power structure and administrative instrument that drove the Empire. Succession was passed down through male lineage. Babur plays the leader to an archetype Empire in decline (Emeritz 2013). Competition between different branches of the family tree embodied a context where biological difference was the precursor for Babur to express masculinity through skill in strategy, leading an army into battle, to fight and to plan victory.

Conclusion The original remit of looking at the expression of gender in the Babur-nāma was an oversimplification of a topic that could be performed many ways and involved many related subjects. The method, based on Jung’s archetypes, was both original and offered a structure that brought together the many facets of life in Babur’s court in 16th century Central Asia as seen through the written experiences of a future leader. Jung’s theories use a concept of gender that includes male and female traits which can exist in the same individual at any one time. This is central to the aims and objectives of this paper to examine expressions of gender in the Babur-nāma. The 16th century Babur’s court had an underlying separation of the sexes. This tended to reinforce the expression of difference between the sexes. Jung’s theory of archetypes tended towards the opposite and saw male and female in every individual. In terms of expression of gender and the methods used in this paper, individuals can be studied at more than one level and it can be shown that the same individual could express gender in different ways depending on who it was but the expression was restricted by the Khanate and the harem. In conclusion, expression of gender could be examined more holistically (and closer to feminist ideologies) than more reductive methods of study. On a different level the use of Jung’s archetypes provided a firm structure to explore the gender difference between masculine and feminine.

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Bibliography Beveridge, Annette Susannah (ed.), 1922. Bābur-Nāma: Memoirs of Bābur. Reprint 1979. Vols. I–II. New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers PVT Ltd. Carl Jung Resources. 2016. “Concept of Archetypes at Carl Jung.” Carl-Jung. Accessed July 13, 2016. http://carl-jung.net/archetypes.html. Emeritz, Phillip. 2013. “Feminine Power in the Ottoman Harem.” Binghamton University, New York. May 23. Accessed July 23, 2016. https://www.binghamton.edu/ history/resources/journal-of-history/emeritz.pdf. Fukuyama, Francis. 2011. “The End of History.” Wes Jones. November 14. Accessed July 14, 2016. http://www.wesjones.com/eoh.htm. Jung, Carl G. 1986. Four Archetypes: Mother, Rebirth, Spirit, Trickster. Ark Paperbacks. Kelly, Ross L, (ed.) 1996. “Gender Sterotypes and Sexual Archetypes.” The Proceedings of the Friesian School. Accessed July 13, 2016. http://www.friesian.com/ gender.htm. Lambert, Tim. 2016. “Life for Women in the 16th Century.” Local Histories. Accessed July 13, 2016. http://www.localhistories.org/women.html. Thackston, Wheeler M. (ed.) Zahiruddin Muhammad Babur Mirza: Babur-nāma. Parts 1–3. Cambridge, MA: The Department of Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations, Harvard University, 1993. Yardly, Darell. 2008-2010. “Jungian Archetypes and Symbols.” Mustang Medicine Works. Accessed July 13, 2016. http://horses-helping-troubled-teens.com/ Jungian-archetypes-symbols.html.

Litip Tohti

Gender Expressions in Uyghur Abstract Uyghur is a language without the category of gender in its grammar. However, when necessary, Uyghur has many ways of expressing gender differences in the real world, including using specially designated names, suffixes or special modifiers for each given gender. Such a mechanism seems to be very effective and economic in communication. This paper explores all the mechanisms used to express gender differences in Uyghur.

Introduction Although gender differences exist in the real world, these are not reflected as a grammatical category in Uyghur, but are only reflected in the lexicon by special words, suffixes or specially designated modifiers. Of course, we must admit that under the influence of borrowings from Arabic, Russian or other languages which have the category of grammatical gender, Uyghur lexicon has adopted some words which are clearly marked by the elements of grammatical gender of the source languages. However, since Uyghur did not have the same grammatical notion originally, such borrowings never developed into a grammatical category. On the other hand, even the use of special words, suffixes or specially designated modifiers in expressing gender is highly restricted to humans and some domestic animals which have biological gender. That is, gender expressions are connected with the animate nature of the references. Thus, we can say that the expression of gender in Uyghur is very effective and economic in communication. Furthermore, gender expressions in Uyghur society are mainly motivated by equality, respect and protection of the female gender. We will discuss these issues in the following sections.

Litip Tohti, Minzu University of China, Beijing 100081 https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-021

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Special Words Referring to Human Gender Differences In comparison to Russian or Arabic, where gender is expressed as a grammatical category, Uyghur never developed such a category in its grammar. Of course, some Uyghur intellectuals who were educated in the former Soviet Union, or some soldiers and officers of the Three Northwestern District Revolution started to use the suffixes -ov or -yov for men’s name and -eva or -yeva for women’s name under the influence of Russian culture during the 1940s and 1950s. But such a trend didn’t last long and couldn’t gain in popularity. Therefore, such suffixes completely disappeared from present-day Uyghur names. We may also see in Uyghur some borrowings from Arabic that indicate gender differences, like šair ‘poet’ vs. šairä ‘poetess, muällim ‘teacher’ vs. muällimä ‘female teacher’, or personal names like Adil (for men) vs. Adilä (for women), Kamil (for men) vs. Kamilä (for women). Again, although the Uyghur community was sensitive to the fact that the suffix -ä can indicate an occupation taken up by a woman or a woman’s name in contrast to its counterpart without such a suffix, this suffix never became productive because of the lack of any motivation for creating a new gender category in Uyghur. Thus, very often, such borrowings are treated as isolated integral words and cannot play a role of making more new words through analogy. Instead, if necessary, Uyghur uses native words such as ayal ‘female’ or är ‘male’ as modifiers if some occupations are limited to a given gender, but in reality this limit has already been reached. For example, ayal jäŋči ‘female soldier’, ayal učquči ‘female pilot’, är sestira ‘male nurse’, är tikkküči ‘male tailor’, and so on.

Terms Bearing Gender Differences The most common way of indicating gender differences in Uyghur is through the use of kinship terms and personal names bearing gender differences. Like many other languages, Uyghur kinship terms bowa ‘grandfather’, ata ‘father’, aka ‘elder brother’, uka ‘younger brother’, taγa ‘uncle’, and so on, are used for male relatives, and moma ‘grandmother’, ana ‘mother’, ača ‘elder sister’, siŋil ‘younger sister’, yäŋgä ‘aunt’, and so on, are used for female relatives. Thus, the corresponding terms like oγul ‘son’, qiz ‘girl’, är ‘male’, ayal ‘female’ are used for general reference according to differences of age and relationship in addition to gender. In terms of personal names, there is a commonly understood line between names of men and names of women in Uyghur society. For instance, we can take the following personal names in Table 1 as examples, which are discriminately used according to gender difference: However, not all personal names are discriminately designated originally; they can be used both for men and women with modification by prefixes or suffixes, as shown in the following section. Table 2 shows some examples.

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Table 1: Comparison of Some Male and Female Personal Names Names for Men

Names for Women

Abdurehim Abduškür Aqil Awut Barat Baqi Bilal Dawut Dilšat Xaliq Xudabärdi Jappar Jamal Keräm Mayit Musa Nasir Nijat Pärhat Pidayi Rašidin Tahir Tömür Wayit Wäli Yasin Zäpär Ziyit Qadir Qasim Qäysär

Ayšäm Aminä Aysim Aygül Bahargül Bäxtigül Bilqiz Dilara Dilnur Xanqiz Xäličäm Janargül Jämilä Kiraxan Mayimxan Maysigül Näzira Nurnisa Patigül Päridä Rizwan Tuxan Turnisa Hawaxan Wäsimä Yultuz Ziyaxan Ziwidäm Qälbinur Qämbärxan Qädiriyä

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Table 2: Comparison of Names Designating Gender Differences through Affixation When Used for Men

When Used for Women

Adil Hakim Litip Kamil Toxti Turdi Tursun Rehim Salam Šämšidin Xäyrulla Qurbanjan Niyaz Jamal

Adilä Häkimä Lätipä Kamilä Toxtixan Turdixan Tursungül Rähima Salamät Šämšixan Xäyrulxan Qurbannisa Buniyaz/Niyazxan Ayjamal

Affixes Used to Differentiate Gender As we have seen above, Uyghur prefixes and suffixes used in personal names also designate gender differences in addition to stem names. If the stem names are neutral in terms of designating a given gender, these prefixes and suffixes serve to eliminate the ambiguity.

Prefixes and Suffixes Used for Names of Men 1.

abdu-/ab-: This prefix is adopted from Arabic through Islam. It is used before certain names of men to indicate humility, since abdu- means ‘slave’, e. g. Abduraxman, Abdurehim, Abdurešid, Abdusämät, Abdulla, etc. Because of the imperfect pronunciation of abdu-, its variant ab- came to being almost at the same time, e. g. Abdulitip ~ Ablitip, Abduleziz ~ Ableziz, Abdulla ~ Abla, Abdulhimit ~ Ablimit. 2. mät-: This prefix is very common in the Hotan region. It is the contracted form of the name of the Prophet Muhammed. It is used before a man’s name, like Mättoxti, Mättursun, Mätqasim, Mätrozi, etc. 3. -din: This suffix developed from the word din ‘religion, religious belief’, and is used after the names of men who are younger than the speaker, like Äršidin, Nizamidin, Rašidin, Säypidin, Šärpidin, Hamidin, etc. 4. -jan: This suffix developed from the word jan ‘life, soul’, and is used after the names of men who are younger than the speaker, like Tursunjan, Ɣäyrätjan, Qurbanjan, Osmanjan, Raxmanjan, Šakirjan, Hamutjan, etc.

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5.

-qari: This suffix developed from the word qari ‘a religious title in Islam given for someone who can recite the whole Quran by heart’, and is used after the names of men who are younger than the speaker, like Ablaqari, Niyazqari, Häsänqari, Osmanqari, Raxmanqari, Rašidinqari, Hamudinqari, etc. 6. -axun: This suffix developed from the word axun ‘a religious title of an Islamic religious leader’, and is used after the names of men, like Ämtaxun, Tursunaxun, Turdaxun, Qurnaxun, Osmanaxun, Räqipaxun, Širipaxun, Sämätaxun, etc. 7. -la: This suffix is actually a contraction of the word allah ‘Allah, God’, and is used after the names of men, like Abdulla, Äbäydulla, Nasirulla, Nurulla, Rähmitulla, Säydulla, Hämdulla, etc.

Prefixes and Suffixes Used for Names of Women 8. büwi-/bü-/bu-: This prefix is adapted from the religious term büwi ‘nun’, thus used before a woman’s name to denote respect, e. g. Büwiayšäm, Büwimäryäm, Büwixäličäm, Büwisarixan. Because of the imperfect pronunciation of büwi-, its variant bü-/bu- came into being, e. g. Buayšäm, Bümäryäm, Büxäličäm, Busarixan, etc. 9. -gül: This suffix is adapted from the word gül ‘flower’, and can be attached to most of the women’s names as a sign of respect, e. g. Tursungül, Aygül, Märyämgül, Patigül, and so on. 10. -xan: This suffix is adapted from the word xan ‘khan, king’, and can be attached to most women’s names as a sign of respect, e. g. Qämbärxan, Altunxan, Märyämxan, Tursunxan, and so on. 11. -ay/ay-: This affix is adapted from the word ay ‘moon’, and can be attached to most women’s names as a suffix showing respect, e. g., Mälikäay, Mihray, Pučinay, Tusunay, Širinay, Xäličäay. At the same time, it also appears as a prefix in women’s names, e. g., Ayqiz, Aypaša, Aynur, Aysima, Ayjamal, Aygüzäl, Aytilla, etc. 12. -ä/-yä: As mentioned above, this suffix is adopted from the Arabic ending used for the female gender, e. g. Adilä, Kamilä, Jämilä, Nurbiyä, Päridä, Ramilä, Rahilä, Qädiriyä, etc. 13. -m/-äm/-um/-üm: This suffix is adapted from the first person singular possessive suffix -m/-äm/-um/-üm ‘my’. When used after a name, it does not designate a possessor–possessee relationship, but the intimacy between the speaker and the person referred to. Thus, in the following examples, the suffix is seen after the names of women: Ayšäm, Rabiyäm, Helimäm, Turdäm, Tusunäm, Ɣunčäm. Of course, this suffix may also appear after a man’s title, like äpändim ‘Mr., Sir’, damollam ‘mullah, religious leader’; or it may appear after a man’s name, like Sawutum, Häytäm, Qurnäm, etc.

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Names Referring to Animal Sex Differences As an ancient nomadic people, the ancestors of the Uyghurs developed a rich animal vocabulary, differentiating their genders, colors, appearances, as well as their ages. Table 3 shows pairs of terms reflecting sex differences. Of course, such a vocabulary Table 3: Comparison of Some Names Designating the Sexes of Animals ärkäk ‘male’

čiši ‘female’

qošqar ‘ram’ tikä ‘male goat’ buqqa ‘bull’ ayγir ‘stallion’ haŋga ‘male donkey’ xoraz ‘roaster’ kögäl ‘drake’ döbüt ‘dog’ buγa ‘buck’

saγliq ‘ewe’ öčkä ‘female goat’ inäk ‘cow’ baytal ‘mare’ mada ‘female donkey’ mikiyan ‘hen’ burčin ‘duck’ qanjuq ‘bitch’ maral ‘doe’

for the sexes of animals does not include all the animal names but mainly the names of domesticated ones.

Equality, Respect and Protection as Motivation From what we have stated above, we can conclude that although gender exists in the real world it never developed as a grammatical category in Uyghur. However, when it is necessary, Uyghur can express gender differences through affixation, words or special modifiers. Thus, a question arises here: why has Uyghur not developed a gender category in its grammar but instead affixes, words or special modifiers? What is the motivation for this? For me, the motivation lies not only in the economy principle of the language itself, but in factors such as the equality of the genders of the speakers; or in most cases, respect for and protection of the women or females. First, in terms of the equality of different genders, we can take the Uyghur tradition of treating males and females in the family or in society as an example. It is true that gender differences exist in the real world; and in addition, human society underwent a historical development from a matrilineal society into patrilineal society. Perhaps because of such reasons, human beings started to differentiate male from female, and this may in turn have been reflected as a grammatical category in many languages. As we can observe from the world at large, gender differentiation in some language

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communities have resulted in extreme cases where men are valued higher than women or vice versa. Fortunately, such a situation never existed in Uyghur society, where men and women were treated equally from very early days to present time. Of course, we are not drawing a distinct line between the category of gender and gender discrimination, but we can imagine that equal treatment of men and women in Uyghur society never necessitated the development of a gender category in their language. Second, in terms of respect for or protection of females, we can cite the use of polite and respectful forms of 2nd person pronouns as an example. The Uyghur pronoun system does not decline in accordance to gender, but it has four degrees of formality in 2nd person pronouns, namely ordinary, polite, respectful and deprecatory and each has singular and plural forms (except for the deprecatory form) as can be shown in table 4, Uyghur personal pronouns. These forms, especially the developTable 4: Uyghur Personal Pronoun System 1st person ordinary 2nd person

polite respectful deprecatory

rd

3 person

Sg. Pl. Sg. Pl. Sg. Pl. Sg. Pl. Sg.&Pl. Sg. Pl.

män ‘I’ biz ‘we’ sän ‘you’ silär ‘you’ siz ‘you’ sizlär ‘you’ özlä ‘you’ härqaysiliri ‘you’ sänlär ‘you’ u ‘she/he/it’ ular ‘they’

ment of four degrees of formality of 2nd person pronouns, indicate the complicated relationship among the people in the real world. In general, the patterns of usage of the second person pronouns are not entirely clear-cut. Factors which play a role include an urban versus a rural setting, the sexes, age differentials, familial or societal relationship, etc. The ordinary forms sän and silär are more apt to be used in rural areas, within the immediate family group, among peers and close friends, by social superiors to inferiors, and in general are used more by men than by women. The polite forms siz and sizlär are used more often in cities, among women, and between people of different ages (being almost obligatory for a young person speaking to a considerably older person). However, use of polite forms in a context of greater intimacy where the ordinary forms would be expected can produce feelings of alienation. Among the homogeneous, usage of either the ordinary or the polite forms is reciprocal, but among the heterogeneous they often are not. For our special purpose here, let’s look at the use of the ordinary and polite forms among family members in table 5.

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Table 5: The Use of the Ordinary and Polite Forms among Family Members man siz

siz

woman

husband siz/sän wife

siz

father sän

sän

son

father siz

siz

daughter

mother sän son

siz

mother siz

siz

daughter

Here in the table the arrow points the direction in the reciprocal use of the ordinary or polite form of the pronoun in a family circle. For the arrow pointing in a lower direction the most commonly used form of the pronoun is given on the left, while for the arrow pointing in an upward direction the most commonly used form is given on the right. The important point in this table is that even among the homogeneous, father and mother may use the ordinary form sän or the polite form siz for their son, depending on the intimacy of the relationship, but in any case they use the polite form siz for their daughter. Furthermore, among the heterogeneous, the polite form siz is used for women in general. Besides, as shown above, the suffixes with nice and ‘beautiful’ meaning, for example -gül ‘flower’, -xan ‘queen’，‘king’, and -ay ‘moon’ are always attached to the names of women. All of these show from the various angles that women are respected in Uyghur society. Third, in terms of protecting the female in Uyghur society, we can cite the labor division among men and women in the traditional sense. It is common sense among the Uyghurs that men are responsible for hard and heavy (or dangerous in hunting ages) outside work while women for are responsible for lighter, safer and peaceful household work because of physical differences between the two genders. Because of such a work division, some occupations have become unique to one gender, but alien to the other. Of course, as we stated above, in the modern world we see very often that limits on occupations concerning such gender difference are broken, thus we have to use ayal ‘female’ or är ‘male’ as modifiers to eliminate a potential misunderstanding in communication. For example, ayal owči ‘female hunter’, ayal čelišči ‘female wrestler’, är sestira ‘male nurse’, är ayropilan kütküčisi ‘male airline steward’, and so on. If we apply this concept to the animal world, we can say that female domestic animals are always protected for reproduction or the ecological system. That is why we have such a rich vocabulary differentiating the genders of animals. We see very often the case that in a language with gender as a grammatical category, almost all nouns show gender differences, male, female or neutral, irrespective of whether the grammatical gender fits the biological gender or/and animate nature of the reference or not. Thus, adjectives, adverbs and verbs are inflected according to gender. This phenomenon may reflect the human primitive belief that all things in the world have a soul or spirit. But we don’t see any trace of developing a gender category in Uyghur even in very early days when our ancestors practiced very primitive religions, like Shamanism, Manicheanism or Buddhism for a long period of time

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before Islam. This, in turn, indicates that biology, religious or psychological belief, social structure and language structure are related to each other, but each has its own autonomy.

Conclusions As mentioned above, gender is not a grammatical category in Uyghur, and it is only expressed by affixation, words or special modifiers when necessary, and their use is mainly restricted to human beings and some domesticated animals. Thus, gender expressions in Uyghur are very effective and economic. Furthermore, with the exception of kinship terms that have intrinsic gender, age and relationship implication, the use of specially designated gender markers is motivated by the equality of the different genders, or in most cases for the respect for and protection of the women or the females.

References Abdureshid, Muxtar. 2012. “Weiwueryu zhong yu dongwu youguan de cihui yanjiu (A Study on the Uyghur Vocabulary Related to Animals.” In Zhongguo Tujue yuyan wenhua yanjiu xinlun (A New Approach of Studies on Turkic Languages and Culture in China), edited by Wang Dehuai & Abduwäli Keräm, 99–112. Lanzhou: Gansu People’s Publishing House. Fromkin, V. & R. Rodman & N. Hyams. 2011, 2007, 2003. An Introduction to Language (9th ed.) Wadsworth: Cengage Learning. Muti’i, Ibrahim. 1990. “Uyɣurlarda Adäm Isimliri wä Familä Mäsilisi.” In Ibrahim Muti‘i Ilmiy Maqaliliri. Beijing: Millätlär Näšriyati. (Ibrahim Muti 1990, 388–405) Räxmitulla Sultan, Azad, ed. 2002. Uyγur Familä Tätqiqati. Urumqi: Šinjaŋ Xälq Näšriyati. Tursun Äpändi, Änwär. 2007. Uyγur Örp-Adätliri. Urumqi: Šinjaŋ Universiteti Näšriyati. Tohti, Litip. 2002. A’ertai Yuyanxue Daolun. Taiyuan: Shanxi Jiaoyu Chubanshe. Tohti, Litip and V. M. Lindblad. Honorifics in Uyghur (to be published). Tömür，Hämit. 1987. Hazirqi Zaman Uyγur Tili Grammatikisi. Beijing: Millätlär Näšriyati.

Hartmut Walravens

Sexual life of the Manchus — Literary Sources When looking at the written documents in Manchu, gender issues become a difficult subject. Much of the printed material consists of translations from the Chinese — historical and administrative works, the Confucian classics, educational and ethical books, and few titles of fiction. And nothing is known about women who wrote in Manchu, or translated into Manchu. There is a huge amount of Manchu archives, memorials, decrees, administrative records in Manchu, and as we know now, many of these were not necessarily translations from the Chinese — in a number of cases it was the other way round. And one should no longer assume that the contents of the Chinese and Manchu versions are completely identical. Most of these materials are, however, not easily accessible to researchers and rest in the vaults of the palace museums and archives in China. One subject which definitely falls under the heading of gender research is sexuality, and there are a few works that offer information — two of them are translations from the Chinese, one is written in English. One might argue then that the subject might be more Chinese than Manchu. True, but as is well known, the Manchus very quickly adopted Chinese culture and the Chinese way of life to a degree that most of them even forgot their native language. And when it comes to sexual life, not much variety may be expected for obvious reasons, except for related customs, like weddings and births. The most important difference between the Chinese and Manchus seems to have been the fact that Manchu women refused to bind their feet. The sources at hand are: — Dictionaries. The official dictionaries, like the Mirrors of the Manchu Language, are not particularly useful for exploring the Manchu erotic or sexual vocabulary. The Manchu emperors were keen on maintaining morals, fought degeneration and effemination and practised censorship.1 Therefore, the well-known dictionary by Erich Hauer is a richer source — the author combed the novel Gin ping mei bithe (v.i.) and included many phrases from it. The original edition left quotes with a clearly sexual content without translation. However, the editor of the new and revised edition2 , Oliver Corff, supplemented the meanings. — Gin ping mei bithe — a translation of the Chinese novel Jin Ping Mei 金瓶梅 — is a voluminous work of 100 chapters, which deals with the rise and fall of a debauched

1 L. Carrington Goodrich: The literary inquisition of Ch’ien-lung. Baltimore: Waverly 1935. XII, 275 p. 2 Erich Hauer: Handwörterbuch der Mandschusprache. 2. durchgesehene und erweiterte Auflage von Oliver Corff. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz 2007. Hartmut Walravens, Free University of Berlin (ret.) https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110748789-022

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roué named Ximen Qing and his family, consisting of six wives.3 The title is a kind of anagram of three of the main actresses, Pan Jinlian, Ping’er and ChunMei. The book is a veritable mirror of society life, a tableau des mœurs du temps — luxury, jealousy, adultery, sexual exploits, fraud, amusement. While the novel was particularly known for its erotic scenes, one has to admit that they form part of the larger context and are not accumulated for the lover of pornography. The novel is often ascribed to the statesman and writer of note, Wang Shizhen (1526–1590) but this may be wrong. The book is, however, well written, and the individual characters show psychological depth. The Manchu version was ascribed to a brother of the Kangxi emperor and was published in 1708. The rumour regarding its translator was never substantiated; there is no doubt, however, that there must have been high protection — while the Jin Ping Mei appeared on the Index of forbidden books (at least it fell under the general verdict on “books with erotic words”), the Gin ping mei bithe was printed officially, apparently in the Wuyingdian, the palace printing-shop. We do not know who translated the book — it is ascribed to either Hesu (1672–1718), or Sioi Yuwan Meng, 1655–1741 (Xu Yuanmeng 徐元夢); at any rate, it is praised because of its outstanding style.4 (Fig. 1) Gin ping mei bithe was not exactly a rare book, at least in Western collections; it was certainly hard to come by in China. Some years ago the work was reprinted in Taiwan and is therefore more easily available.5 In addition, about the middle of the 19th century, the celebrated linguist Hans Conon von der Gabelentz (1807–1874) acquired a copy and prepared a full translation of it — the first translation of the work into any Western language. Later on, the manuscript was believed lost and thus shared the fate of the remarkable private linguistic library of Gabelentz which went to the Soviet Union as a trophy and has not made its appearance again. But Martin Gimm found the manuscript in the Altenburg archives and published it successively.6 Thus, we have access now not only to a long lost treasure but we can gain an insight into

3 See Wolfgang Bauer: Chin P’ing Mei. Kindlers Literatur Lexikon. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft 1974, 1940–1941. 4 Martin Gimm: Hans Conon von der Gabelentz und die Übersetzung des chinesischen Romans Jin Ping Mei. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz 2005. 202 p. (Sinologica coloniensia 24.) 5 See the review by H. Walravens: A Manchu edition of Chin P’ing Mei. 滿 文 本 金 瓶 梅 San Francisco 1975. A Manchu edition of Liao Chai Chih I. 滿文本聊齋志異 San Francisco 1975. Orientalistische Literatur-Zeitung 74.1979, 500–502. 6 Hans Conon von der Gabelentz (1807–1874): Jin Ping Mei. Chinesischer Roman erstmalig vollständig ins Deutsche übersetzt. Kapitel 1–10. Herausgegeben und bearbeitet von Martin Gimm. Mit einer Vorbemerkung von H. Walravens. Berlin: Staatsbibliothek 2005. 148 p. (Neuerwerbungen der Ostasienabteilung. Sonderheft 9.) The 10th (and last) fascicle was published in 2013.

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Figure 1: Selection of sexual terms from Hauer’s Handwörterbuch der Mandschusprache (2007 ed.)

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the methodical work of a scholar to whom we owe the first Manchu grammar7 and dictionary8 in the modern sense (Fig. 2–3). — Another source is the Źeo pu tuwan bithe which is a partial translation of the Chinese erotic novel Rouputuan 肉蒲團 ‘Prayer-mat of Flesh’.9 It only existed as an unique manuscript, and it first became known to the scholarly community through Klaproth’s catalogue of the Chinese and Manchu books of the Berlin Library where he briefly mentioned it as a “dirty novel”: “Ein aus dem Chinesischen ins Mandshuische übersetzter ziemlich schmutziger Roman, welcher die Geschichte eines den weltlichen Vergnügungen ergebenen Mannes enthält, der zuletzt Einsiedler geworden. — Diese Handschrift ist sehr flüchtig jedoch leserlich geschrieben.”10

Nobody seems to have developed a deeper interest in the book and it seemed lost after World War II as it did not return to the Berlin Library. It surfaced again in a presentation by the present speaker at the Taibei PIAC in the 1990s11 where some data were given on the book which was found in the Jagiellonian Library at Cracow, Poland. In the meantime it was published in facsimile12 (Fig. 4). According to the current view, the Rouputuan was authored by the gifted playwright, author and publisher Li Yü (1611–1680). It is not a tableau des mœurs like the Jin Ping Mei but an erotic novel with a Buddhist setting. The hero at the beginning refuses to follow the Buddhist doctrine and prefers to enjoy life but after many erotic adventures, and experiencing some pitfalls, he decides to reform, and in this he is followed by some other main characters of the novel. Bauer points out that the erotic descriptions are rather sober and technical and remind him of guidebooks to sex.

7 Elémens de la grammaire mandchoue par H. Conon de la Gabelentz. Altenbourg: Comptoir de la Littérature 1832. X, 156 p., 6 fol. The cover carries the date 1833. 8 Mandschu-deutsches Wörterbuch. Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus in Comm. 1864. VIII, 231 p., 1 p. Druckfehlerberichtigung (Abhandlungen für die Kunde des Morgenlandes. 3, 2.) 9 See Wolfgang Bauer: Jou-p’u-t’uan. Kindlers Literatur Lexikon. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft 1974, 5024. 10 Julius Klaproth: Verzeichniss der chinesischen und mandshuischen Bücher und Handschriften der Königlichen Bibliothek zu Berlin. Paris: Königliche Druckerei 1822, 152. 11 H. Walravens: The current situation of the Manchu collection of the Berlin State Library. Proceedings of the 35th Permanent International Altaistic Conference, September 12–17, 1992, Taipei, China (Taipei 1994), 477–504. See also to H. Walravens: Chinesische und manjurische Handschriften und seltene Drucke: Teil 8: Mandschurische Handschriften und Drucke im Bestand der Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin. Stuttgart: Steiner 2014, no. 8. 12 Der chinesische Roman Rou putuan 肉蒲團 in manjurischer Übersetzung der Berliner Handschrift aus der Zeit vor 1700. Eingeleitet von Lutz Bieg und Martin Gimm. Mit einem Vorwort herausgegeben von Hartmut Walravens. Berlin: Staatsbibliothek 2011. 47, 497 p. (Neuerwerbungen der Ostasienabteilung. Sonderheft 27.)

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Figure 2: Gin ping mei bithe, beginning of preface (1708).

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Figure 3: Title-page of the first fasc. of the complete translation of the Gin ping mei bithe by Gabelentz

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Figure 4: Sample page of the Gabelentz translation of Gin ping mei bithe

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The first extant edition of the novel dates from 1693 while the text itself is supposed to be written in 1657;13 several of the following editions were published under variant titles, probably to escape persecution. In Europe the book became known through Franz Kuhn’s adaptation Jou Pu Tuan (Zürich: ‘Die Waage’ 1959) which was banned by the courts. Today the standard translation is the one by Patrick Hanan.14 There is one further source on the subject, neither by a Chinese nor Manchu author but an English baronet. And it may justly also be considered a work of fiction. It is entitled Décadence mandchoue and it allegedly offers the author’s true story of the author’s amatory exploits in the palace precincts and the metropolitan Manchu milieu. The hero and writer is Edmund Backhouse, 1873–1944,15 who spent most of his life in China. While he had an excellent knowledge of the Chinese language and accumulated a splendid Chinese library which was donated to the Bodleian Library, other aspects of his life (e. g. involvement in shady business transactions) raised doubts about his integrity. Scholars shook their heads when it turned out that the much acclaimed Diary of Ching-shan [Jingshan], a high imperial court official which Backhouse had found and which was considered a major source for the period of the Boxer Rebellion turned out to be a clever forgery. Backhouse had assembled all available details and turned them into a diary.16 During Backhouse’s last years when he, practically penniless, stayed at charitable facilities, it became his pastime to scribble down the story of his life as he remembered it or as he wanted to see it. The Swiss parasitologist Reinhard Hoeppli who took a liking to the old man who was full of interesting stories, edited these notes and deposited four typescript copies with libraries in the UK as they were considered unfit for publication because of their erotic contents (Fig. 5–7). Backhouse’s biographer, Trevor Roper, discarded these reminiscences as fantasies or wishful thinking of an old man. A first sample of the text was published in 1996;17 now the book dealing with China is available with a good introduction by the editor who, however, argues that Backhouse’s treatment by his biographer was unjust.18

13 The date is mentioned in an early ms. copy. 14 Li Yu: The carnal prayer mat (Rou putuan). Translated by Patrick Hanan. (London:) Arrow Books (1990). XIV, 242 p. 15 Hugh Trevor-Roper: Hermit of Peking. The hidden life of Sir Edmund Backhouse. New York: Knopf 1977. 316 p. 16 Lo Hui-min: The Ching-shan diary. A clue to its forgery. East Asian History 1.1991, 98–124. 17 Sir Edmund Backhouse: From Décadence mandchoue (Peking 1943). Erotische Literatur. Mitteilungen zu Erforschung und Bibliographie 3.1996, 137–145. 18 Décadence mandchoue. The China memoirs of Sir Edmund Trelawney Backhouse. Ed. and introd. by Derek Sandhaus. Hong Kong: Earnshaw Books 2011. XI, 297 p.

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Figure 5: Sample page of the unique manuscript of the Źeo pu tuwan bithe (Rouputuan)

The book describes in great detail the professed homosexual author’s amatory relations with the Manchu Empress-Dowager, Cixi and then also the situation at male brothels in Peking that were particularly frequented by high-ranking Manchus. While it may be dangerous to take Backhouse’s memoirs as truth there is little doubt that he was knowledgeable about Peking life, probably also life in the palace, through his many connections, and especially the homosexual scene. A special feature of his memoirs is the habit of sprinkling it with Chinese phrases, technical terms, so to speak, in order to give more credibility to his narrative and proving himself as an expert. There is a literary parallel to Backhouse’s memoir, on a higher level, which might have given Backhouse some ideas, namely Victor Segalen’s (1878–1919) René Leys19 (1922) — the story of a young man (Belgian) who becomes — in another identity — a high official in the Forbidden City and the Empress’s lover20 (Fig. 8). A textual analysis and evaluation would be a task for the future.

19 Victor Segalen: René Leys. Edition présentée, établie et annotée par Sophie Labatut. Paris: Chatelain-Julien 1999. 1345 p. 20 This similarity was already pointed out by Trevor Roper.

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Figure 6: Sample page of Backhouse’s Décadence mandchoue

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Figure 7: R. Hoeppli’s transcript of Backhouse’s manuscript (from Décadence mandchoue).

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Figure 8: Edmund Backhouse in his late years in Peking (from Décadence mandchoue)

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Figure 9: Cover of René Leys by Victor Segalen.

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