Haimacumsă & Narecumsă, Romania's favourite '-ism'

A word or two about haimacumsă, narecumsă and their close relatives naredeundesă, deundenaibisă and so on.

If you are Romanian and don't know these words, it's probably because they were invented by me. But you should immediately understand their etymology. Should you deny that these words have a right to exist in the Romanian lexicon, then you probably don't listen to yourself (or others) speak as often as you should. Furthermore, if you can truthfully claim never to utter these words then you are among the most pessimistic of your compatriots!

If you don't speak Romanian or 'Englanian', then some explanation is in order at this point. Firstly, the words themselves are compounds of existing words. As languages evolve, words commonly used together tend to become fused together. For example, any one and some body have with time become anyone and somebody (the intermediate stage usually involves hyphenation, as in half-price). In English, this is an organic process. In Romanian – as in French – it is monitored and approved (no doubt with many rubber stamps and lengthy meetings). The ominously-named DOOM or Dictionarul Ortografic, Ortoepic şi Morfologic al Limbii Române (the Romanian equivalent of the OED, Academie francaise etc.) is responsible for such decisions. Some years back, they announced the fusion of nici o to nicio, nici un to niciun and so on (naturally, nobody took any notice), but I say they dropped the ball: how could they have missed Haimăcumsă?!

Haimăcumsă is composed of four words*: Hai, mă! Cum să... roughly 'C'mon, how could it...?' as in Hai ma, cum să [nu meargă] – 'C'mon, how could it possibly [go wrong/not work?]'

As an Englisher in the wild East, I have found that understanding the cultural significance of haimăcumsă-ism is vital both to understanding Romanian life and staying sane. At first sight, culturally, the British and the Romanians are surprisingly similar in a number of ways, and the visiting Brit feels at once at home. The differences between us are more subtle, however. First, here are some examples of how we are alike:

1. We both whinge a lot:

We whine when it's too hot, we grumble when it's too cold. We complain about our jobs, our neighbours, our politicians, rising prices, falling morals, young people's attitudes, old people's attitudes and above all about how people never stop complaining; the list is endless, but the preferred topics are the same; so ingrained is this stereotype of the English (if not the British), that the Australians refer to us as 'whinging Poms' and the phrase 'mustn't grumble' is a common alternative to 'fine thanks'. Meanwhile, the typical falling intonation of Romanian only serves to emphasise the fact that this is a language made by whingers for whingers (and approved for purpose, no doubt, with a ştampila from the Societatea Româna a Whingerilor Români).

2. We are both obsessed with the weather:

We talk about it non-stop, on meeting, passing, or when conversation dries up; when we don't know what to say, when we are embarrassed, or by way of evasion. We like to point out the sun in July and the rain in April, and we especially like getting snow in the winter because then we have something concrete to complain about.

3. We both love animals more than people:

Every Romanian block has its pack of snarling, drooling, semi-wild, unvaccinated, and potentially rabid dogs which are universally adored by residents and answer to 'fetiţa mamei' or 'ce face băiatul meu drag?' but which leave visitors, postmen, rollerbladers, cyclists and motorcyclists fearing for their lives and occasionally hospitalise small children. Stray dogs may have been eliminated from British streets, but every second English household has pets ('Mummy's little angel!') with unpredictable temperaments, special dietary, psychological and medical needs and who get more attention, more affection and better food than their owners' own children. Buckinghamshire has an entire hospital dedicated to the rehabilitation of underprivileged hedgehogs and other wildlife (St Tiggywinkles, for the record). Neither Romanians nor the British have any time for human homeless; “Scroungers, get a job!”.

4. We both gossip and talk behind each other's backs (and most often to complain that they are the kind of people who gossip and talk behind each other's backs):

A - “Oooh, I don't like that E., she's a right two-faced old cow. She said some really horrible things about me to D.”

B - “I don't like people who gossip, they should say things to your face if they have a problem”

A – “Ssh! Here she comes!”

A & B - “Hi E., alright love?”

Edna - “Fine thanks, dears, you? Lovely day, isn't it?”

A & B “Lovely day, yes!”

[...they wait until she's gone...]

A “See? What a cow!”

B “Cow, yes!”

5. We both answer 'fine thanks' when we are at death's door:

Perhaps this is a reaction to 1., above; we both value stoicism. If we really have something to whinge about, we never do. A Frenchman, for example, will answer the casual question “how are you?” with a veritable litany of medical complaints that will make you sorry you asked, but a Brit ALWAYS says “fine, you?”, “not so bad”, or “musn't grumble, eh?” etc. The Romanian equivalent is 'bine', 'destul de bine' or eh... bine' or just 'eh..!' accompanied by a smile and a deep shrug. In both cultures, the last couple of options may be interpreted thus: 'I've lost my house and my job, my wife has run away with the neighbour, my child is addicted to crack and the doctor says I have less than a week to live'. A Romanian who loses a leg will say “Paai, ce să fac? Aşa e! Nu mai alerg după gagici. Palinca, îţi mai pun?” A Brit who loses a leg will say “yeah, it's a bit of an inconvenience, but my general health is really quite ok. Cigar?”

6. We eat to live, don't live to eat and have a reputation for lousy food:

Everybody knows that in Britain everyone eats rubbish; fried food, burgers, deep-fried Mars bars and fish and chips for breakfast, lunch and dinner, while Romania shares the fascination of the rest of Eastern Europe for boiled potatoes and bits of gristly pig in breadcrumbs, deep-fried in engine oil, served cold and congealed onto a paper napkin hours later; if you are lucky, you may get dumplings, but only if the queues weren't too long at the market. (I feel your pain, om român, but feel mine too, I beg you, and let's join in killing these unjust stereotypes!)

7. We drown our sorrows:

The British look upon alcohol as a full-time hobby, for Romanians it is a part-time job. Interestingly, while Britain has the most relaxed drink driving laws in Europe (the government likes its citizens to have worthwhile hobbies), Romania has one of the strictest (the government doesn't like its citizens moonlighting unless it can see some financial benefits). Oddly enough, Britain's accident rate due to drink driving is one of the lowest in Europe but it might possibly rocket if people are ever forced to attempt driving sober after all these years. Especially in Scotland and the North. I digress...

8. We state the obvious, incessantly: “Winter's here then...” [in January]; “Nearly Christmas, eh?” [on December 23^rd]; “De la piaţa?” [to someone loaded with bags of vegetables]; “hmm, plouă afară” [as torrents of water lash against the window]......

But these apparent similarities belie a huge difference; the biggest of all and it has taken me years to notice it: Murphy's Law does not apply in Romania. At all. Culturally it has been replaced by Principiul Haimăcumsă (the Haimăcumsă Principle), which is precisely the opposite: Murphy's law states that whatever can go will go wrong, however carefully you plan, because humans are fallible and nature is cruel; the Haimăcumsă Principle states that nothing could possibly go wrong, however badly planned, because the world is essentially a good and beautiful place and, hey, what are the odds?

The peculiar thing is that Romanians' cheerful improvidence seems to pay off more often than not, while Murphy's Law still applies to visitors! Many laws of physics are routinely broken in Romania, mainly in the name of improvisation, and yet the population doesn't seem to suffer much for all that: In my last flat, the plumbing system, fridge and electrical system collectively violated three out of four laws of thermodynamics while the upstairs neighbour had broken Newton's law of universal gravitation by removing all of his internal supporting walls (with two more storeys above him). Meanwhile, my breakfast toast still fell jam-side down, the bathroom routinely gave me electric shocks and the washing machine caught fire on at least three occasions. Most unfair. Being foreign (or even British, heh heh) in Romania can be like being Bob Hoskins in the film Roger Rabbit, where all the other characters are indestructible cartoons.

What I want to know is whether the Haimăcumsă Principle still holds true for Romanians abroad. Answers on a postcard please...! In the meantime, let us campaign for the following compounds to be accepted by the Romanian Academy at the earliest opportunity (loose English translations to the right):

Haimacumsă – C'monhowcouldit...?

Narecumsă – Nowaycouldit...!

Naredeundesă – Theresnowherefromwhichitcould...!

Deundenaibisă – Howthehellcouldit....!

Naredundenaibisă - Theresnowherefromwhichitcouldbloody....!

.....and so on (the list is a long one!).

A happy Christmas to you all!

Paul

*The first word, hai, is an exhortative particle; informal in usage, it might be translated as '(hey) c'mon!'. The second, mă, is also an emphatic, but cannot really be translated into English; it just adds weight and indignation to the statement.** Cum means 'how' and să is the particle like 'to' which introduces a verb in the subjunctive mood.

**Ma, in Italian, or mais in French can be used to similar effect in those languages, but it is interesting to note that in contrast to French or Italian, Romanian has additional variations inflected for gender and anger/excitement: fă, bă, făă, băă, făăi etc.