More Moops:

Bulgarian керхана (= ќерхана) not *черхана

Turkish kerhane karhane and kârhane

Mrs. SANGER: I know. I know. Why don't you play a game of

Trivial Pursuit?
[…]
DONALD: Ok, history. This is for the game. How ya doin' over
there? Not too good!
GEORGE: All right BB. Let's just play... Who invaded Spain in
the 8th century?
DONALD: That's a joke. The Moors.
GEORGE: Oh, noooo, I'm so sorry. It's the MOOPS. The correct
answer is, The MOOPS.
DONALD: Moops? Let me see that. That's not Moops, you jerk.
It's Moors. It's a misprint.
GEORGE: I'm sorry the card says MOOPS.
DONALD: it doesn't matter. It's the Moors. There's no Moops.
[«The Bubble Boy», Seinfeld Show 4th season 7th episode,
by Larry David and Larry Charles]

We were tickled pink to read Stachowski (2021: 4-5) writing as follows:

[…] Bulg. čerhana ‘sheepfold, pen’ (Miklosich 1884: 4) can best be explained as a
loan from Serbian *ćerhana (> ćerana) < Turkish dial. *kerhane = Turkish
liter. ‹kârhane› = ḱarhane ‘workshop’ (not to be confused with Turkish kârhane ~
kerhane ‘brothel’)1,2 although also a contamination of the first syllable of Turkish
dial. *kerhane with that of Turkish çeragâh ~ çerahar ‘pasture’ is imaginable.3

And especially to read, in an attached footnote (ibid. 4 n. 5), that:

[…] Hristina Deykova (Sofia) […] was so kind as to inform me that the word
čerhana has not been etymologized so far in the archives of the Bulgarian
Etymological Dictionary (BER).

So let us be so kind as to inform whoever it may concern that the word has not
been etymologized because it does not exist and never did. It is easy to verify that both
Miklosich and his easy-to-guess ultimate source (Miladinov & Miladinov 1861: 533) give

1
However, Stachowski (????) in his etymological dictionary of Turkish endorses the conventional
derivation of the ‘whorehouse’ word from the ‘workshop’ one, the latter being described as
2
We are very sorry but it does seem rather funny that Škaljić (1966: 190) lists both these meanings for the
Serbian-Croatian borrowing but only the ‘workplace’ sense for its Turkish source, even though in Turkish
‘whorehouse’ is widely used and indeed today the only common meaning. And positively hilarious that
Selimsky (????: 324) takes Turkish to only have the latter meaning, and seeks to derive the sense of
‘workplace’ from that (moreover attributing this to BER, where in fact Turkish is CORRECTLY shown to have
both the meanings). Presumably both these blunders are due to sloppy editing, but still funny.
3
To those, if any, who have been following our forlorn struggle against the prevailing methodology in
various fields and in particular to those who HAVE been but who claim not to see what the issue is, THIS is
the issue. To us, this random suggestion by one of the leaders of this particular field of scholarship
precisely is NOT imaginable. For, if it WERE imaginable, that would be the end of any sort of science.
the Bulgarian (dialect) form not as Stachowski’s wholly unexpected *čerhana but as
(yawn) ćerhana (so transcribed into Croatian, their book having been published in
Zagreb), by which they obviously mean the entirely expected ќerhana, And indeed in
the Cyrillic part of their book they do write precisely керхана (Miladinov &
Miladinov, 1861: 108).

Easy mistake, you might think, confusing ć and č, which you, Gentle Reader,
likely have trouble distinguishing yourself. But, it is a bit embarrassing for a native
speaker (like ourselves) of Polish, another one of the few languages (like S-C, Albanian,
Mandarin) that distinguish these (or similar) sounds.

The point is not that. The point is that the actual topic of Stachowski’s article is
the way Turkish palatalized ḱ and ǵ sounds are reflected in the South Slavic languages,
and in particular in Serbian-Croatian. In this connection, Stachowski does not deal
otherwise with Bulgarian, citing this one word to demonstrate the theoretical
relevance of “irregular phenomena like inter-Slavic word borrowing”.4,5

So, the point (our point, that is, and yes, we do realize that even the Gentlest of
Readers still in 2021 have trouble with our points or indeed with our mere existence on
this planet) is that that this supposed č would be in itself quite unexpected, and
moreover would make a key theoretical point. And it is our view that whoever said
(was it Carl Sagan?) that extraordinary claims demand extraordinary evidence or at
least an ordinary degree of due diligence was right. Not to mention (you WILL forgive
us, won’t you?) that in a well-documented language like Bulgarian any real word should
be listed in various sources besides Miklosich, a work not specifically about Bulgarian.
So, if it is necessary to cite Miklosich for a Bulgarian word, that in itself is highly
suspicious. And this is just why the new Alex (since 1999 or so) would, and did,
consider it suspicious and thought it necessary to double- and triple-check the bizarre
form before building anything on it (as even old Alexis sometimes did before 1999,
though we regret to say not nearly ruthlessly enough). For, was it not Blažek (1999)
and Georg (1999) who, while of course agreeing about practically nothing else, made us
aware that we had not been nearly careful enough before?

Next, while the ghost word does not appear in the BG etymological literature,
the real word DOES appear in BER (2: 340, 384), as well as elsewhere in the literature (eg
Selimsky 1978, 2002: 324), of course as керхана (also керхане, керана as well as

4
The issue here is that we would expect k or dialectally ḱ- (and not č) if the word were borrowed into
Bulgarian directly from Turkish—so that the alleged č (if it existed) would have to either involve a sound
substitution for the Serbian form with ć (since Bulgarian has no ć) or a hybrid etymology involving a
word with an actual original č in the Turkish.
5
And what about the theoretical point that Stachowski wanted to make to begin with, namely, that it is
possible to find, somewhere in South Slavic, examples where this or that Turkish sound is borrowed not
according to the general rule but in some irregular way (which at least sometimes must be due to
borrowing from a Slavic language or dialect with one sound system into another one with a different
system)? And in particular where Turkish palatovelars are reflected not as velars or palatovelars or even
palatals like SC ć but as palatoalveolars like SC č? There is no need for a Bulgarian ghost form to prove
that this is possible. It seems to be attested eg in Bosnian (Mulasmajic ???? passim).
кирхана, кирана),6 which would be precisely the pronunciation(s) we would expect
if the word were borrowed directly from Turkish after all and not via Serbian—as of
course it is and as anyway even a quick a look at a map of SE Europe would make us
guess if we did not know.

As always, there is more. Contrary to Stachowski, the Bulgarian word does not
mean ‘sheepfold, pen’ at all, and quite obviously has nothing to do with the Turkic
word for ‘pasture’—a professorenetymologisch red herring invented presumably just in
order to scratch the itch to “explain” the (ghost) form with č.

To be sure, it is true that Miklosich, repeating the exact words of the Miladinov
brothers, glosses our word (in Croatian) as “kozara,7 gdje se kolju ovce i koze”. This
does have SOMETHING to do with sheep, but it is not a “sheepfold, pen”. Moreover, there
is no source for even this (likely erroneous) meaning (“a place where sheep and goats
are slaughtered”), much less of course for the completely imaginary one confected by
Stachowski from whole cloth. The normal meaning in Bulgarian was (the word not
being commonly even passively recognized today, eg by the speakers we know
personally, so we use the past tense) ‘workshop’ or sometimes ‘workroom’ (the two
meanings are covered by Bulg. работилница).8 To be sure, there seem to be attested
usages that involve a building where such animals are milked and/or milk is sold
(Kӑnchev 2006: ??),9 so perhaps there is some connection there to goats and sheep, but
it is anyway nothing like what either Konstantin Miladinov or a fortiori what
Stachowski came up with.

And once again we say that when dealing with a quite well documented
language like Bulgarian, one should, as we did, wonder why any alleged OTHER meaning
would not be documented more widely, so that Miklosich had to be cited for it and not
some standard work of Bulgarian linguistics. This made us dig deeper, only to find that
even in the very song recorded by the Miladinov brothers what actually appears is the
phrase висока керхана ‘tall kerhana’, which may simply be a rare (if not unique) folk
poetic term for a big building similar to the common висок сарай (as also suggested
by Tikhov 1891: 9, 36 and Kharuzin 1907: 255 n. *)—and nothing whatever to do with a
sheepfold or pasture at all. (A closely related meaning for kerhana itself is anyway
attested in at least once in Bulgarian dialectology: ‘широка и дълга, но пуста и
неудобна къща’ in the Strandzha dialect (Gorov 1962: 97).

6
The –i- vowel however is not necessarily to be explained (as apparently intended in BER 2: 384) as a
typical BULGARIAN vowel reduction, since such forms also exist in Greek (see eg Christodoulou 2020: 221).
For Greek, a strikingly well-informed discussion of this word occurs at
https://www.periergos.gr/erotiseis/ti-simainei-kerxanas, accessed 19 March 2021. Nisanyan ??
7
The S-C word kozara itself was not known to us and indeed does not seem to be known to native
speakers of the language today, but Karadžić (1818) does list it as ‘der Platz, wo die Ziegen geschlachtet
werden, macellum capriarum’. This does not tell us if it was a building or an outdoor location.
8
In English too a workshop can be (and often is) just a room (or complex of rooms) inside a building with
a different primary function, e.g., someone’s house.
9
This seems to also be documented for Turkish.
 Nor is this all. The song phrase actually is describing a me[h]ana, an inn where
explicitly and emphatically liquor is being sold, with no goats or sheep or any non-
human animals in sight.10 It remains unknown and possibly unknowable how one of
the Miladinov brothers (the one who edited the collection of folk the two of them had
collected for publication) came to invent a meaning for the word that has no
connection whatever with the one occurrence of the word in the text. But in any case
we can be sure that the even more fantastic meanings invented by Stachowski have no
basis in fact, and here we know what the basis for them was: namely, the oh-so-
common practice by oh-so-many scholars of putting the theoretical (whether in
etymology or other fields) cart before the horse of hard fact.

And so we were tickled pink because the whole story first of all it provided us
with yet another example of a phenomenon far less discussed than folk etymologies,
namely, etymologies just as flawed as those attributed to the folk yet perpetrated by
academics. This is a phenomenon called attention to in the introduction to the
wonderful book by Parashkevov (????), but the term PROFESSORIAL ETYMOLOGY or
PROFESSORENETYMOLOGIE is ours (Trifonova & Manaster Ramer 2019, Manaster Ramer to
appear). And further a set of examples of the way the venerable way that scholarship
has always been done, sometimes even by us, but that we came to reject in the late
1990’s and ever since—where all kinds of crucial claims are taken on faith instead of
being rigorously checked, double- and triple-checked before theoretical edifices are
built on their backs.

For we had gradually learned the reality the hard way, including from our own
mistakes, notably some of those pointed out by Georg (1999/2000) or, by implication,
Blažek (1999, esp. 129). Of course, no else needs to join us in this realization, but to us it
became clear that one needs rather more careful about copying or miscopying the data
and conclusions of other scholars, even more so about taking it on faith, and above all
about building elaborate theoretical castles on foundations of unverified clay. As we
said, no one else needs to join us in the brand new world that this realization creates.
Let it be our private lesson and our private Damascus reached by way of Canossa.

Let us emphasize here that this example, trivial in itself, are just illustrations of
how we often find ourselves unable to believe (unlike at least sometimes in our earlier
life) that which we read (or hear). And we chose an example that occurs in the work of
one of the leaders of this particular field, and not by accident. Our whole point, unlike
we believe others who often delight in finding errors in the work of others, especially
ours and most especially when they are not errors at all, is that the issue is not
personal. What we have resolved to at least try not to do is what even the very best
scholars constantly do do, making it thus rather clear that it is generally (perhaps even
universally) regarded as just dandy, a valid part of the methodological armamentarium
of scholarship. So our intent is not to generate yet another of the usual academic
Gotcha’s, which is, paradoxical though this may seem at first glance, precisely part of
that other, conventional approach (where everyone feels entitled to do for themselves

10
For the (in our view, uncertain) sense ‘whorehouse’ in Bulgarian, see below.
just what we described above, while at the same time invoking the most trivial and
irrelevant of details when trying to destroy work, usually that of others,11 that is in fact
correct and of enduring value). For, we say here as we have for years in other places
that there is a fundamental difference in mindset and approach here, which we hope
we can change if not today than anyway soon, and of course not in this particular field
but in all fields. There is a right way and a wrong way, and what we believe we have
discovered is not what the former is or that there is a difference, but rather the simple
and crucial fact that scholarship (and everything else people do) has for millennia been
based on a resolute refusal to separate the two, so that as we say almost everyone does
do the right thing much (likely most) of the time, yet they feel entitled to turn on a
dime, whether at random or quite often simply when the right way does not produce
the desired result, and suddenly switch to the wrong one.

This leaves us with three problems. One we have already identified: it seems
unlikely, but maybe not impossible, that anyone will ever find out how the bizarre gloss
of the Bulgarian as ‘place where sheep and goats are slaughtered’ was invented.

The second again involves a problem of actual usage in earlier Bulgarian. We

could be wrong but in the classic Bulgarian play Криворазбраната цивилизация, in
act 8 line (Ту що е от вас бе, джанъм? Туй тука хан ли е? Керхана ли е?) we are
inclined to find the same meaning as in the actual song recorded by the Miladinov
brothers, namely, 'tavern' or the like. The Bulgarian scholarship on this assumes
without any discussion the meaning 'whorehouse' (e.g. Rechnik… RBE, Grannes 1996:
49). But the character saying this line after all arrives home to find uninvited guests,
whom his wife had allowed to come inside, and goes on at some length to complain
about this. The point in general is that the play is about the introduction of Western
European customs in Bulgaria, including that of calling on a man and his family at their
residence without being invited. It seems to us that it is far more sensible to suppose
that he is asking, rhetorically, whether that by letting the uninvited callers in, she is
turning their house into «an inn or a tavern» rather than (as is currently assumed by
all the authorities) «an inn or a whorehouse». Really? Would he say the latter to his
wife? We anyway find that the 'whorehouse' meaning is not well documented for
Bulgarian. Thus, while this sense is certainly used by Bulgarian Turks WHEN SPEAKING IN
TURKISH, even they do not use it in Bulgarian, and we know no one else that does. In
fact, it is not clear to us that it is really unambiguously attested in Bulgarian even in the
past. The dictionaries that list it keep giving (yet another scholarly circularity) the
very line at issue as their sole example of this alleged usage. As for dialects a form with
this meaning is found in the dialect of Kukush (now Ki?, Greece) but this is given as
kerhane (Sakӑov 1967: 327), where the final vowel suggests to us a basically Turkish
word that was possibly a late local borrowing, and not the same as the Bulgarized
kerhana. This would be consistent with the masses of Turkish vocabulary in this
dialect.

11
However, even more telling is the fact (which we dwell on in Manaster Ramer & Michalove ????) that
time and again even the most prominent scholars (in that case three top Indo-European linguists) can be
seen doing this to THEMSELVES.
 Of course, it always strikes us that in English a public house (eventually
shortened to pub) is an alehouse or tavern, whereas seemingly matching terms in
various other European languages (from French maison publique to modern Turkish
genelev) have quite a different reference, namely, a brothel. In some cultures, of
course, men go to the same place both to pay for alcoholic drink and for nonmarital
sex. However, unlike other languages (including Greek, SC, Albanian) we do not see any
reason to accept that the 'brothel' meaning is real in Bulgarian. In short, until someone
shows us a real attestation, there will be no Moops.

The remaining issue is the origin of this word in Turkish, where as we said at the
outset Stachowski tell us that there are two different words involved. We are not sure
whether this problem is solvable. At any rate we do not propose to make any strong
claims about it. There is no question that there is, or was, a Persian-derived Ottoman
word kârhane ‘workshop’, possibly extended to various sorts of shops since once upon
a time many things were made and sold in the same place. WIt seems that it is only
Motuzenko (e.g. ????) who has suggested that the ‘whorehouse’ meaning is an entirely
different compound with the prepound being the word kerh ‘disgust’. This surely
cannot be the actual origin, but it is possible that it is involved in a (punning?) hybrid
etymology (etymologies croisées). Motuzenko also suggests that there is a third word,
this time one definitely attested, that may imply in an even more complex etymological
confusion. This third word is karhane, lit. ‘snow house’, which is certainly attested as
a place where snow and/or ice was stored during the winter for use later (Kélékian
????? etc etc.). Motuzenko conjectures that this was used for storehouses where fish
were kept after being caught to keep them from spoiling. This sense survives in
Romanian cherane and is also the source of the related Russian and Ukrainian words.
Furthermore, fishermen themselves are clearly known to have lived in these, very
uncomfortable, structures, though this only seems to be known for a fact not in Turkey
but in what is now Ukraine or Moldova. A confusion between a word with a back velar
(or even uvular) k like karhane and a palatal one like kârhane ~ kerhane seems
difficult to accept in Turkish. Semantically, though, the origin of the ‘whorehouse’
sense could PERHAPS lie here. Someone in an age technologically less advanced (and no
less callous) than our own may have thought it quite funny to compare the prostitutes
effectively imprisoned in a bordello to like fish kept fresh by being put on ice and/or
fishermen forced to live with the same. It thus seems to us that no definite answer is
possible about the etymology of kerhane ‘brothel’ given the information currently
available, but some kind of hybrid etymology is likely, one that in turn would likely
have involved some sort of verbal humor—not the sort of thing the current ruling class
of Turkic studies would ever forgive anyway.

But some things can be and are known. There was no Bulgarian čerhana, just
as there were no Moops. And kerhana has nothing whatever to do with places for
slaughtering sheep and goats, much less sheepfolds/pen, and above all pastures. No, no
pastures—we cannot emphasize this too strongly—of any kind. Not even, as Mr. Wilde
might have written, for ready money.
 There are in short (as we have said and written for quite some time, in the face
of a general silence and usually just hearing the echo as it all bounces back from the
wall of silence) two approaches to scholarship, to science, and actually to everything
(politics, love, friendship, cooking, sex—really everything). For lack of better terms, we
will call them Wrong and Right. That is not news. What may be news (Trifonova &
Manaster Ramer 2019) is the realization that all Wrong statements are alike, sharing
the same few transparent unfunny soul-destroying mind-rotting life-sucking
methodological abuses, but every Right one is right in its own glorious life-affirming
soul-enhancing mind-freeing new way. And further that the same individuals, parties
and churches, schools, disciplines, sciences and other organized crime groups that
ostentatiously practice and proudly defend the Wrong approach will often (perhaps
even most of the time) use the Right approach too—either at random or, as it seems,
when it does their cause no harm. Only part of the time (perhaps even a very small
part) do they cling to the Wrong approach, whether as we said at random (just to show
that they CAN) or in those situations where the Right one would crucially force an
outcome that would be undesirable for some reason while the Wrong gives them what
they need—or rather THINK they need. For, we are all on the same planet, all vulnerable
and mortal, and we or someone we love will sooner or later suffer grievously from the
rule of the Evil System that permits, promotes, fosters, and indeed imposes on a
suffering humanity this so-far-eternal GAME of combining vast numbers of Right trivia
with a few (whether random or carefully selected) Wrong cruxes, the ones that do the
all that disproportionate harm.

Not that anything we have said here today has anything to do with THAT. For,
obviously whatever we say is to be ignored, and whatever THEY say should be repeated
religiously. OK, čerhana, čerhana, čerhana. See? We can do it too, having after all a
doctoral degree and reached the rank of professor. We just CHOOSE not to. Join us.

The Beginning

BER/

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Μακεδονίας. Θεσσαλονίκη: Αριστοτέλειο Πανεπιστήμιο Θεσσαλονίκης.

Dizdari

Eren
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Страница 106
Както в думите керана ' работилница ' Смолско , Пирд . ( БДиал IV 110 ) | керхана '
широка и дълга , но пуста и неудобна къща " Странджа ( БДиал 1:97 ) 17 (
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