Word of the Week
60 articles
Word of the Week
SİGARA / CIGARETTE
Sigara (and its unruly cousin, cigara) comes to Turkish via Italian — a linguistic clue that matches the prevailing historical account: tobacco reached the Ottoman Empire in the 17th century through Genoese trade routes, though some credit goes to the British. Origins aside, the word now points to a habit so entrenched it once traveled abroad as cliché: “smoke like a Turk.”
Word of the Week
BAKIM / CARE
Bakım, or care, is one of those deceptively soft words, the sugar coating over a complex vitamin pill, a soft towel draped over the hard machinery of an economy. It suggests tenderness and love. What it rarely suggests is exhaustion, lost income, or the quiet arithmetic of inequality.
Word of the Week
FÜZE / MISSILE
Few Turkish words arrive with less subtlety than füze. Borrowed from the French fusée, it sounds clipped, metallic and modern. It is a word that pierces a sentence rather than softly enters it, except when used in slang. In the mid-20th century, füze was slang for breasts that projected upward; the opposite of pide, or flat, breasts. It is a small linguistic reminder of how the male gaze has long blended the language of warfare with that of desire.
Word of the Week
EMEKLİ/RETIRED
In Turkish, emekli / retired is supposed to be a word of closure. It comes from emek: labor, effort, the long arc of work, and implies that something has been duly completed. You have labored; therefore, you may withdraw.
Word of the Week
RÜZGAR/WIND
In Turkish, rüzgâr begins as a simple meteorological fact: the wind that sweeps across the Bosphorus, bends Aegean olive trees and makes wildfires spread uncontrollably. Etymologically, it probably blows in from Persian, once meaning “time, fate, weather,” before narrowing into “wind.” But its real life is in metaphor: the wind that shifts fortune, tests patience, topples governments. In a language where song lyricists routinely confide in the breeze, it was only a matter of time before politicians started doing the same.
Word of the Week
MERCİMEK/LENTILS
In Turkish culture, mercimek turns up everywhere: in the copper pot of the humblest esnaf lokantası cafe and the gleaming bowl of a New-Nordic fusion spot; in the taxi driver’s midnight soup as a welcome alternative to pungent tripe soup, and the dietician’s protein plan. If quinoa is aspirational and bulgur nostalgic, mercimek is foundational: a pulse that has nourished this land since it was the Fertile Crescent.
Word of the Week
ZEHİRLENME/POISONING
In Turkish, zehirlenme or poisoning is one of those words that lands with a sting. Its genealogy stretches back through Ottoman Turkish to Persian zahr (poison), but the word has given birth to colorful idioms: zehir saçmak (to scatter venom), zehir zemberek sözler (barbed words that blister on impact), ağzı zehir gibi (a tongue sharp enough to wound).
Word of the Week
HAKEM /REFEREE
In Turkish, the word hakem conjures, for the average football fan, the image of a man with a whistle — revered when he blows it in your favor, reviled when he doesn’t. Yet the word has a far deeper pedigree. Hakem comes from the Arabic ḥakam, meaning “one who judges,” sharing roots with hakim (judge or ruler) and hikmet (wisdom). The referee is, linguistically at least, meant to be a wise arbiter among impassioned players and fans — no small task given the layers of expectation and resentment attached to every call.
Word of the Week
ÇUBUKLU PİJAMA
In Turkey, çubuklu pijama, or striped pajamas, means much more than bedtime. It’s the uniform of the “baba”: the modest patriarch who comes home, trades his jacket for cotton stripes, and settles in front of the evening news. A garment of thrift and decency, it once stood for the steady comfort of the lower middle class.
Word of the Week
CASUS
In Turkish, casus is the spy who slips through keyholes and whispers down telephone lines. In Ottoman Turkish, the word appears as câsûs, borrowed from Arabic, and, under Sultan Abdülhamid II’s watchful reign, it had a cousin, hafiyye, the “secret investigator” who made surveillance an imperial art.
Word of the Week
SOYGUN
So our word of the week is soygun, robbery - as in art heist. On a quiet Sunday morning in Paris, the world’s most visited museum turned into a crime scene. In under eight minutes, thieves hit the Louvre’s Galerie d’Apollon (the home of France’s Crown Jewels) and fled with royal pieces tied to Empresses Marie-Louise and Eugénie, and Queens Marie-Amélie and Hortense. Investigators say the crew used a lift to breach an upper window. Ministers Rachida Dati and Laurent Nuñez confirmed that the alarm tripped and police arrived within minutes. The symbolism stings more than the price tag. (Think eight figures.)
Word of the Week
KEDİ
The word of the week is kedi, or cat, the agile, intuitive feline who is supposed to have nine lives. The Turkish word kedi ultimately goes back to Late Latin cattus (“cat”), with an intermediate form in Byzantine Greek gati (γ α τί, “kitten”) from which it passed into Ottoman Turkish as kedi. So why is it the word of the week? Because of the Istanbul Biennial, the must-see flagship event of the Istanbul Foundation for Culture and Arts (IKSV) that continues until the end of November.