Demonyms

Jimmy Abad and I were on the back seat of my chauffeur-driven limo, on our way to the French Ambassador’s residence in South Forbes, Makati, when we fell into conversation about a typically inane topic that won’t help the world out of its current economic tailspin, or resolve the fate of the Reproductive Health Bill, even the scary Senate Bill 2464 — an Anti-Obscenity and Pornography Law which, if passed, would ban the display or anything written about women’s breasts, which will “ excite and arouse impure thoughts,” as the bill contends.

No, we didn’t exchange opinions on boobs, tits, or any possible cleavage as preliminary attraction. We would have other opportunities for such, maybe when we got to the cocktail party where our friend Dr. Leovino Garcia would be conferred the decoration for Palmes Académiques Officier for his contributions to French-Philippine academic and cultural relations. 

Unbeknownst to my buddy Jimmy, I was imagining a Can-Can chorus line of mesdemoiselles serving as a front act for the bestowal of honors to our deserving colleague. Maybe if that happened, we’d have a chance to test the need for such a censorship bill.

But what we actually had a tete-a-tete about as we cruised through rush-hour traffic was a word I had recently stumbled on, as I related to my fellow word-lover.

“Are you aware of the existence of the word ‘demonym’?” I asked the esteemed State U. professor emeritus.

“No,” he humbly allowed. “What animal is that, ’bay?”

With relish and bonhomie, I recounted how I had searched for something in the Internet, and accidentally came upon a Wikipedia entry on “Demonyms.” I happened to have the trusty iBook with me in that capacious limo backseat, and perforce showed the file I had downloaded on the strange new term.

Dr. Abad perused it with unquantifiable interest. 

“A demonym or gentilic is a word that denotes the members of a people or the inhabitants of a place. In English, a demonym is often the same as the name of the people’s native language: e.g., the ‘French’ (people from France). The word comes from the Greek word for ‘populace’ (demos) plus the suffix -onym and was popularized in 1997 by Merriam-Webster editor Paul Dickson in his book Labels for Locals. The term is not widely employed or known outside geographic circles and does not appear in mainstream dictionaries. 

“Some places, particularly smaller cities and towns, may not have an established word for their residents; toponymists have a particular challenge in researching these. (See also ethnonym.)

“... While many demonyms are derived from placenames, many countries are named for their inhabitants: Germany for the Germans, Thailand for the Thais, Denmark for the Danes. France is named for the Franks, a German tribe who conquered the former roman province of Gaul.

“Some placenames originated as adjectives. In such cases the placename and the demonym often are the same word, sometimes specialized in form.”

An example given is the parallel English form Argentine as demonym and general adjective. Although the adjectival forms of Argentinean or Argentinian are used in the UK, The Oxford English Dictionary lists Argentine as the correct demonym.

Then this item: “Philippines: properly Philippine Islands (Spanish: Islas Filipinas), named for King Philip of Spain. Here, in contrast, the English form Philippine is used to mean of or relating to the Philippines, whereas the Spanish masculine adjective Filipino is used for the same meanings and for the national language and as the demonym, in other words as the general adjective. The English plural is Filipinos and the Spanish feminine Filipina is also used in English for women.”

And finally: “This dual function is very common in French, where for example Lyonnais means either the region or an inhabitant of Lyon.” 

Ka Jimmy and I had a fun time citing demonyms we knew, and wondering how the suffixes were determined. Ireland has the Irish, Scotland the Scots or Scotsmen. Haggis is a Scottish dish, but their whisky is Scotch.

Ilocanos are of the Ilocos, and their language is often mistakenly called Ilocano, but is academically correct as Iluko. Pangasinan has the Pangasinense for both, but a common term as well is Panggalatok. While Bulacan has Bulakenyos and Cavite Caviteños, Pampanga has Pampanggos and Pampangueños who speak and are also Capampangan.

People from Iloilo become and speak Ilonggo, while in general, Negros has Negrenses, and Dumaguete Dumagueteños. But what do you call someone from Cainta or Makati, when in my place it’s a Pasigueño?

Hong Kong seems to have been orphaned by demonyms. I’ve heard of Hongkongite and Hongkonger, but both are unwieldy and neither has gained acceptance. People and dishes of Macau are Macanese, and like the former Ceylonese, Japanese, Chinese and Pekingese, it’s Burmese for Burma and Taiwanese for Taiwan. Why not Taiwaner or Taiwanite? Is the -ese suffix particularly Oriental? But then why is it Indian, Indonesian, Malaysian and Singaporean, or Sri Lankan?

It’s Etonian, but Cantabrigian for a scholar in Cambridge. When did the Mongols of Genghis Khan become Mongolians? And as the old joke went, if Cyprus has its Cypriots, and Idi Amin happened to have named his country after himself, would his subjects have been called Idiots?

While thus engaged in infinite jest — this even after the untimely death of fiction writer and essayist David Foster Wallace, whose best-known, thousand-page tome had that Shakespearean title (Infinite Jest, that is) — we resolved that some answers may be found in the practice of modeling endings after late Latin, Semitic, or Germanic suffixes.

These include the simple -an for American and Philadelphian; -ian as in Bermudian and Torontonian (you believe that?), with a slight variation for Norwegian; -ine for Florentine, -ite for Israelite and that enchantingly varied Muscovite (but I hadn’t known they’re called Seattleites and Wisconsinites!); -er for New Yorker and Quebecer or Quebecker!; and -(en)o for Los Angeleno, adapted from a standard Spanish suffix, as with the -(eñ/n)o for Salvadoreño.

Then you have the -ish which is usually only proper as an adjective, thus leading to irregular demonyms (Spain/Spanish/ Spaniard; Denmark/Danish/Danes); the -ene for Damascus/ Damascene and Nazareth/Nazarene; and the aforementioned -ese, also used for Maltese and Viennese.

We learn from the article that the suffixese is used mostly for East Asian and Francophone locations. Is that why it’s Lebanese and Faroese?

Finally, there’s the simple -i for Iraqi, Israeli, and Pakistani; the -ic for Arabic and Semitic; the strange -iot for Greek locations, and the distinctive -asque for a Monegasque from Monaco. 

Ay! Wherefore comes Waray!? Our questions didn’t end until we crossed The Fort, passing by all the high-rise residences of Bonians, and entered McKinley Road, then eschewed a hello to our Dasmarinense friends of Dasmariñas Village, and turned right instead to enter the realm of the South Forbesians. There we parked a bit so we could don our barong Tagalogs (or Taga-ilogs), to go with our formal footwear (not Havaianas!) for proper entry into that elegant maison on Anahaw St., which has just been rehabilitated. Only recently have Amb. and Madame Gérard Chesnel laid claim to being Anahawasques once again.

The company was exquisite. Half of the honoree’s friends proved to be Arrrneans.