Cajun Heritage
by Maurice Lasserre
by Maurice Lasserre
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Cajun Heritage by Maurice Lasserre |
For additional information on Cajun musicians, music or history contact Pete Bergeron.
Reference: La Poste D'electronique, E-Mail
Inquiry from Brad Byers, our answer:
Jurer style of singing originated in La's Black Creole communities in the 20's and 30's. The lyrics were not originally accompanied by music. The style is considered a precursor to modern Zydeco. Some information is available on two CD's by Rounder Records as taken from Lomax Recordings of 1934.
Dr. Barry Ancelet, Folklorist and Author at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, is considered our foremost authority on such matters, Tel. 1-(337) 482-1000.
Concerning other recent E-Mails inquiries, we need more info from Marilyn Marschel. Where did she hear "Le jardin de ma grandmere"? Pete Bergeron thinks it may be a folksong by Ann Savoie. Pete can be contacted at 1-(337)482-6985 (or 6991). Pete's also an expert in matters related to Cajun music.
Also, Linda Tribe's inquiry about red-brick cleanser and leaded-weights for tying horses remains essentially unresolved. Carol Fruge (Baton Rouge) offers La Poudre des Briques (brick powder) and musician Wes Thibodeaux suggests the Anglo-Cajun phrase Pumice des Briques, cajunized to Pum-eece (pumice in standard French is la peirre ponce). Could we be looking for la ponce des briques? We've previously suggested Pilonne des Briques, but all of these are questionable. Several readers remember using whole brick or pieces of soft red-brick to scrub floors, and especially to clean rust from cast iron cookware. Bob Brunet (B. Lafourche) said his grandpa used to threaten them in jest when they were unruly with, "je va te frotter avec une brique, I'll scrub you with a brick".
Linda's inquiry about the portable weight used for tying horses when no post or rail was available has stirred lots of interest; everyone remembers the use of this tying device, but no one recalls the name. George Schexnayder (Prairieville) remembers an old Cavalier (horseman) who had his tying weight neatly covered in fine leather, and another Vacher (cowboy) whose animal was so well trained that the horse would not move as long as the reins (les guides) were dropped to the ground; he didn't need the weight.
We're still asking, and until we get the right answer, Memere temporarily offers une amarre apporte', a "brought" (carried) tie.
Tortue de Cypriere, turtle of the Cypress swamp, the snapping turtle.
Like Mariners of old sailing vessels who stocked live turtles aboard ship as a source of fresh meat, Cajuns included penned turtles in their farm yard of animals that were caged as a food supply. They took advantage of the turtle's ability to survive out of water without having to be fed. Turtles were easily caught during spring nesting seasons or when they walked out of the swamps in response to thunderstorms or flooding. Historically turtles were so abundant in Bayou Country that it was not unusual to pick up a turtle while going to work, church or school. The ideal pen for captive turtles was a bottomless cypress-slat cage (like the ones used for housing a hen and her bitties) that allowed the turtles to partially bury themselves in the ground, thus preventing loss of body moisture.
Because of low metabolism, and lots of fat under the skin, a caged turtle can live almost all summer, or until it is needed in the kitchen. Memere made us throw a bucket of water from time to time on the turtles in our pen, and we'd release the ones in late summer that grandma said "sont venu trop maigre, have become too skinny". We remember two interesting Cajun words/phrases related to turtles: Tatonnage (ta-tohn-noge) means probing with a rod around logs or stumps in shallow water to find turtles by the "feel of thump" of the rod striking a buried turtle's carapace.
Amarrer une tortue en baillant (bye-yont) means to immobilize a turtle by tying a stick across it's open mouth so it looks like it's "yawning". The stick, tied to the back of the shell prevents the turtle from using it's head and neck to right itself (turnover).
Ouaouaron, pronounced "wah-wah-rohn" with nasal stress on all the syllables. Our word for "bullfrog" imitates the deep resonant call of the male frog. According to William Read, this term did not originate with Cajuns, but came from Canada with the French, who leaned it from the Huron and Iroquois. The Indians translated ouaouaron to mean "big, noisy frog." Memere cautions that because Louisiana bullfrogs grow so big, sometimes they're tough if fried like fish. She said, "il faut que tu les faire cuire doucement, et avec un couvert," you must fry them on medium heat, and with a cover (like frying chicken). The increased pressure in a lidded pot is just enough to tenderize big frog legs. She also adds, "Don't let the grease get too hot between batches, or the flour coating the legs will burn." The entire frog can be eaten--the legs, back, forearm and chest. Memere separates the parts, salts and peppers to taste, dips them in beaten eggs, then flour, and fries as above in corn oil to a depth that does not completely cover the legs. She also melts margarine mixed with minced and squeezed fresh garlic cloves, that she brushes lightly on the pieces immediately after they're taken from the pan. Using a heavy iron skillet (un poele or poelon) is always best. Use one stick of margarine to 5 or 6 pods (gosses) of garlic.
Allons Danser, Colinda, Let's dance, colinda! Oran "Doc" Guidry and Leroy "Happy Fats" LeBlanc have been given credit for the lyrics of this popular Cajun tune recorded in 1946. The chorus goes: "Let's dance colinda! Let's dance colinda to make the old women mad! Not everyone knows the old-time waltzes; while your mother isn't here, let's dance colinda!" Initially colinda wasn't used as a woman's name (Colinda). The word comes from a very old, immodest African dance in which the men formed one line, the women another, and they danced facing each other in a sexually explicit manner. The dance was banished from Congo Square in New Orleans in 1843 because of its implied sexuality and association with voodoo. Until the 1940's young women were always chaperoned by their mothers, and it was considered disgraceful for them to attend a dance when their mothers weren't present, and to dance suggestively would certainly have made "the old women mad". Researchers believe the word calinda came into our language with slaves from Guinea, Africa or Martinique, or from the Cuban-Spanish word, caringa; both calinda and caringa mean dance. The spelling of calinga has been change to include an "o" and the song now implies that Colinda is a woman's name. Researchers aren't sure if the tune is the same as it was originally; because musicians sometimes harmonize or repeat the lyrics in varying degrees of pitch, or modify the song with catchy musical turns, such as Lee Benoit's version, which seems to give new life to this old melody. Taken in part from the text of Raymond Francois and from William Read's research of Louisiana French in the late 1920's.
Memere a dit: Grandmere said, "les petite mains fait bien avec les petit ouvrages, little hands do well with little tasks." Mack Arnaud told us that women and children were the usual caretakers of small farm animals such as chickens. Youngsters as young as 3 years of age loved to gather eggs, and help Memere or Maman wash the soiled ones; they even helped sort the collection by size and color, and learned to count eggs for sale or trade to un marchand voyager (egg buyer). Sometimes Memere would send a youngster that was a little older to "va 'oir si les oeufs sont eclos, to see if the eggs are hatched". A youngster sent to check on nesting hens needed more courage than it would seem such a simple task demanded. Annette Woods remembers that roosters could hurt bare legs and feet, when their hens were disturbed, and seemed to sense when you had forgotten your stick, or weren't looking over your shoulder. Others learned that caution was also necessary when inspecting a squawking hen's eggs. A setting hen (ap'es couver) will not answer nature's call, and will "hold-back" for hours, even days, while on the nest; but will relieve herself almost immediately when lifted for an egg inspection. Cajun children quickly learned to raise the birds only by the wings, never to hold one too close, nor to wear good shoes into the hen house.
Une attrappe de poule, a chicken catcher. We previously said that free-ranging chickens were hard to catch. We've recently learned that enterprising Cajuns in Louisiana and Texas used a catcher made from a stiff clothes-line wire about six feet long, with a crook in one end, similar to a shepherd's staff, but the width of the hook was much smaller-just big enough to slip over a chicken's leg and too narrow to allow the foot to go through.. A flock was enticed to come closer by calling and tossing corn. During the melee' and competition among the birds to gobble up the grain, the hook was slipped along the ground under the flock, then yanked back to ensnare the unlucky Sunday dinner by the foot. We've been told that with practice you could even catch the chicken that you wanted.
Contributed by Don Johnson and Nathan Woods
Heritage Miles Chauvin contributed the Standard French phrase for having a flat tire. He said it's avoir un pneu a'plat. Plat means "flat" and pnue comes from "pneumatic", meaning pertaining to air. Father Daigle (with a chuckle) told me that older Cajuns used an echoic term meaning puff, attraper une pooff, to catch a puff (mimicking the sound of escaping air).
Old Times: Don Johnson likes to read about things Cajuns did as youngsters; this time we're going to tell on him. One of Don's boyhood chores included getting a chicken ready for Sunday dinner. Don had to sneak up to the roost at night and grab one off the jouquoir, because catching a yard chicken in daylight was nearly impossible. He'd put the chicken under a tub (because like us they had no refrigeration in Texas) then wring its neck on Sunday morning. One chicken was easy, but two or more chickens (if company was expected) became a problem. Don said no matter how slight he raised the tub to grab one by the feet, one of the birds inadvertently got away. When this happened his Mom was forced to baptizer le gombo (baptize the gumbo by adding water). On those occasions, Don was always afraid to look up during the meal because he knew what everyone (with little meat in their bowls) was thinking.
Memere a'dit, Grandma Said: "Tu 'oir pas ton vrai-meme dans le miroir", you don't see your true-self in the mirror, meaning you never see yourself as others see you.
Words and Phrases: Touche, spoken with a "tooshe" sound, and literally means touch, but also pertains to the frets, the metal ridges set across the finger-board of a stringed instrument. The frets are called Les touches, meaning "The Touches"- the places a musician touches to chord a melody.
Jeter, (Jay-tay) means to throw, to toss, to throw away. The phrase Pour jeter une, derriere la cravate means to toss one behind the necktie, and is a Cajun saying that pertains to imbibing--like a shot of liquor gulped down quickly.
Memere a' Dit, and in reference to all the Cajun words in this letter, Grandmere said "des fois on est oblige' d'expliquer notre paroles, mais presque jamais notre musique, ni notre cuisine, sometimes we have to clarify what we say in Cajun, but almost never have to explain our music nor our cooking (they're that good)."
Est-ce-que t'as jamais manger du Grosbec, have you not ever eaten Grosbec? More older Cajuns would answer yes, than no; and a bird that's been protected for years, probably still finds its way onto the dinner platter at some hunting camps. Migrating from Mexico and S. America every spring to occupy our swamplands; it builds nests at variable heights, many of which can be reached by thrown objects. Mudballs, dried in the sun, were the missiles of choice during the economic depression, when Cajuns couldn't afford to buy ammunition. Grosbec eggs hatch in a staggered sequence; the nestlings that mature first, usually stand on the edge of the nest, or step out onto a branch, and become the easiest to knock down with a mudball. Harvesting like this never threatened the well-being of Grosbec populations 'cause the smaller fledglings were always left to mature. When properly prepared, a Grosbec dish is compatible to duck or goose cuisine, and participants in Grosbec suppers often included clergymen or other officials. Dyed-in-the wool gumbo eaters, however, who love gizzards, are often disappointed, 'cause wading birds have no gizzards. Hunters consider the Grosbec stupid (bete). Young fliers will "decoy" to a loud-short whistle or nasal "quock", and youngsters may vie to see how many times a flying Grosbec can be whistled back. Siffler un Grosbec means to make him turn around and fly back over the caller. Young and mature birds also walk the water's edge at night looking for frogs and crawfish, and can be whacked with a paddle.
Pour Te Faire Sourire --To make you smile:
(I) Memere always "imagined" that she was sicker than anyone else with the same malady. Visitors who asked how she was feeling, usually got the same answer, "C'est bon asteur mais, les canards a' passe' bas, oui (it's OK now but, the ducks passed low, yes). She meant that she had been so ill, that she almost died. Joe Guilbeau tells us this saying originated with hunters who noticed that migrating ducks flew low in bad weather, to see and orient themselves with the ground and water; but in so doing, they were exposed to the hunter's gun. Older Cajuns still like to make this analogy between a life-threatening illness and ducks made vulnerable by bad weather. Conversely, when we as youngsters had stomach cramps or felt ill, Memere would quickly minimize the seriousness of our complaints, saying "C'est juste un pet accroche', it's just gas--you'll be all right."
Sourire
(II): February 2nd was national ground hog day; but Joe Guilbeau said the reason Cajuns never paid much attention to this superstition was because they were always so busy (in Jan. and Feb.) with their own ground hog days--meaning boucherie time. Traditionally, cold weather was the best time to "grind-up" a hog for sausage, boudin, head cheese, breakfast patties, etc. Joe's coming to the FOP Feb. 21st, we'll introduce you, and you can catch him back for this.
Cajun Cuisine: Ken Ducote provided us with this recipe from Lucille Rogers of French Settlement:
Tarte A La Bouillie
Bouillie (a soft, boiled pie filling---like a custard)
1/2 cup sugar 1 1/2 TBSP butter 1 beaten egg
1/4 cup cornstarch 1 tsp. Vanilla, or
1 1/2 cups hot milk 1/2 cup flaked coconut
Combine sugar and cornstarch in a saucepan. Stir in the milk and cook over low heat---stirring constantly. Add the beaten egg and stir until mixture thickens. Remove from heat, add butter, extract or coconut, let cool and pour into sweet pie crust. Cover with another crust, or dough strips.
Sweet Dough Crust (called Pate---makes 2 pies)
1 cup shortening 1 tsp vanilla 1 tsp salt
1 1/2 cups sugar 4 1/2 cups flour
2 eggs 1/2 cup milk 1 TBSP baking powder
Mix dry ingredients; blend into creamed mixture of shortening, eggs, milk and vanilla. Refrigerate several hours, knead and roll into 1/8 inch thick crusts. Fill with 1/2 inch of Bouillie and bake 25-30 minutes at 350 degrees. We've simplified all directions considerably, but it's important to stir the bouillie constantly, or the filling may stick to the pan or curdle. Bon appetit!
Sayings attributed to Memere at Christmas: When youngsters couldn't get their parents to tell them what Pepere Noel would bring, they'd pester Memere who just teased them with "Un tit rien tout neuf, dans une boite sans fond, aux manches a dents de poule", a little nothing new, in a box without a bottom, with handles of chicken teeth. Contributed by Lee Benoit.
"Ca c'est ton Krees-muss, this is your Christmas". Krees-muss is the Cajun pronunciation of Christmas. It means Noel, the day, but it was also used to mean a gift. And, the presents that Memere would bring were always of her own making--something knitted, sewed or baked; we remember les tites gateau sec, little dried cookies, best of all.
Memere a' Dit: Nathan Woods said that when youngsters dropped a biscuit or other edible on the floor, his Memere would say, "mange le, un cochon engraisse pas a' l'eau clair," eat it (anyway), a pig will not fatten on clear water. This is the Cajun equivalent to "What doesn't kill, fattens."
Allons a' la Vacherie, Let's go to Vacherie on the River in St. James Parish; settled in the 1700's by immigrants from France, Nova Scotia, and St. Domingue. A vache is a cow; Vacherie means cattle ranch. The town got its name from a Spanish grant allowing beef to be raised for the military and Orlean's markets. It was also known as St. Patrick for a time, and the area abounds in interesting facts and folklore. A resident once swore that he had seen a naked, hairy giant in the swamp and this was in 1891, long before BigFoot sightings were popular. Some of the Br'er Rabbit tales are also thought to have originated from slaves on The Laura Plantation. The Mad Stone of Vacherie (la tite pierre), a concretion from the heart or gall of a white deer is still applied to infections, and to remove poisons from snake and insect bites. Used on more than 4000 residents, it was a gift to the Gravois family from an Indian. Belief in the stone's powers are very real. My father had it applied at 3 in the morning to a finger, bitten by a Congo. The stone "stuck" for many minutes, after which it fell off, whereby everyone just went back to bed---believing the stone had done its work.
Native Americans called Vacherie--Tabiscania. "Back" Vacherie had an Indian burial mound of clamshells, at least 35 feet high by 5000 feet long, that was destroyed in the 1800's after the shells were used as road paving and foundation for Notre Dame de la Paix, Our Lady of Peace (Catholic Church). Not long ago, a skeleton exhumed near the mound, and examined by an anthropologist, was likened to the remains of prehistoric man--the bones were so MASSIVE and completely mineralized with iron. My mother told of Indian artifacts and bone fragments that could be found scattered among the shells paving the lane fronting our homestead. I've heard the mound called une colline des coquilles by oldsters, but most now use the term coteau. For more about the Parishes in your area, read Along The River Road by Mary Sternburg and Cajun Country by Barry Ancelet.
Cajun Verbal Nonsense: Les mots qui manque bon sens. Cajuns use words, phrases or make word capers that sometimes make little sense or defy explanation. Words may be combined solely for the rhyming effect; others are used with unconscious inclination, as we say "you know" in English. Gwen Fontenot remembers her father's favorite answer to a child's inquiry, "What are you making?" He'd say, "J'apes me faire un si-si a' dents, I'm making myself an if-if with teeth." Lee Benoit recalls the French caper, "Chique a'la paille, chique a' la paille" in combination with the English, "Bake me a cake enfin and I'll give you a pie". Chique means a cud, "a chew of straw". Our elders used words like enfin and a'bien (or, et bien) like we use "you know" today, but usually at the beginning instead of at the end of a sentence. Enfin comes from en (at) and fin (last or end) so it means "at last or finally." A' bien or et bien mean "with correctness" or, "oh well". Butch Landry said a' bien was an expression most frequently used by his grandmere. Because such words and capers are heard and learned in childhood, they can remain in your mind for a lifetime.
Memere a dit: Grandma said that "lui qui reste dans lit, perdes la meilleure part de la journee", he who stays in bed looses the best part of the day…..early morning is the most vibrant and refreshing time of day, a quote from Earline Broussard, with the Friends of French Studies, and formally with CODOFIL
The Drum and Cajun Music: Nothing influences your ability to dance, to go with the rhythm, more than the drum beat. The accordionist, or string section, can also stimulate your urge to dance when they "second" the beat. But in contrast, no instrument will initiate more comments from dancers, than when the percussion section sounds too loud. Sometimes it's the acoustics of a building that make the rhythm sound bad; sometimes it's an overly enthusiastic drummer that's hitting the drums too hard, maybe even hitting the drum edges. The drummer can make or break a band, and a good rhythm should be felt and not heard. A loud, hard sound can be distracting, instead of stimulating. A typical Cajun Band may have 3-5 drums; the large bass and several smaller snare drums, and 2 or 3 symbols. The triangle, spoons and scrubboard are also true percussion instruments. Drummer Butch Golson is aware of hard-loud sounds that may bother dancers, and compensates by using bundle drumsticks (a cluster of small dowels), taped or sleeved together. This softens the sound when the drumheads are struck. Butch said bundle sticks are called cool rods, and the stiffer ones are hot rods. The individual sticks are each tested for pitch, density, flex and moisture content to assure that they are perfectly matched. These sticks should be constantly replaced, as you would the blades in your razor, even though they may look good to the drummer. Drummers are constantly experimenting to get the right sound that dancers need. Mark Edmonson and David Monique use a small pillow in the bass drum to muffle sound. Drummer Michael Kingon said muffling can also be accomplished by taping a paper towel inside the drumhead to absorb sound and prevent ringing, but sometimes muffling just changes the tone and does not reduce actual loudness.
Kitchen Talk: Nothing ruins a Cajun dish more than too much pepper, and the spice can get into your gumbo or sauces through the cured meat or sausage that's used for flavoring. Don't add pepper until after you've parboiled the cured meats separately from the main dish, and tasted the boiled water, or a small piece of the sausage or tasso to see if adding pepper is necessary. Do the same with salt-cured meats, so your beans or "greens" don't come out too salty. Sometimes homemade sausages may be smoked too long. Parboiling can also remove excessive smoky flavor, that is objectionable in delicate dishes like merliton, squash or eggplant. After the parboiling process, if you find the spices or smoky flavors excessive, discard all of the water. But, if it's OK, you may add some or all of it back to the main dish, based upon your tastes and cooking experiences. And, as usual, this leads us to Memere's advice for August:
Memere a Dit….Grandma said: "Cuire a la couleur de ton idee's, cook to the color of your ideas," use your best judgement. Then she quickly adds, "si t'es Cajun, ton repas va pas moisir", if you're Cajun your meal won't mildew/spoil (because Cajun cooking is that good). Contributed by Tugboat Captain Ernie Theriot, Bayou Lafourche, who we met through Chef Billy Brunet.
Porter le deuil (por-tay-leu-doy-ee) meant to carry, to wear mourning clothes. Today, we encourage the bereaved to overcome their grief by association, to come out as soon as they feel able, to participate and be with those with whom they associated as a couple. But it wasn't always like this. Self-imposed isolation, and the wearing of mourning clothes for an "indefinite period" was expected after the death of a loved one. For whatever reason, le deuil (mourning) seemed to be the responsibility of the widow, more than the widower. Except for the wearing of an occasional black suit, or dark hat and tie to church, I scarcely remember men "being in mourning". My grandmere wore traditional black or black with small white or gray-checkered dresses for the rest of her life (over 50 years) after my grandpere was killed by lightening. The bereaved were also expected to stay away from all places of entertainment; and wearing bright colors was frowned upon until a "proper amount" of time had passed; a year for some, many years for others. A widow suddenly appearing at a public function or church service in colorful dress was a not too subtle announcement that her mourning had ended.
Six escalins (with a "z" sound, seez-ka-lan). An escalin was equivalent to the British bit, 12 1/2 cents. Curiously, Cajuns usually used it as it applied to a value of 75 cents (six bits). I've never heard anyone say deux (two) or quatre (four) escalins, as we say two or four bits; but maybe they did. You'll only hear escalin in the vocabulary of the elderly. Lee Benoit's lunch-money for school was 75 cents a week, and his grandmere would say, "six escallins, six escalins, c'est trop chere. 75 cents, 75 cents, that's too much". Today, Lee's daughter holds her hand out every morning before school and says, "six escalins, Papa." Inflation is helping Lee's family keep this old phrase alive.
Memere a Dit Grandma said:
Chaque pied trouve son numero de souleir, each foot finds its shoe size, meaning everyone eventually finds his place in life, his profession, her/his mate. Try until you succeed, etc. etc. Contributed by Lilie Petit Gallagher, Cutoff, La.
Cajun Music And Musical Instruments Cajun music (like Cajun cooking) is one of the most accessible aspects of Louisiana's cultural bonanza. Because music and dancing can circumvent the language barrier, it has enjoyed and maintained a popularity that surely would have been the envy of Louisiana's music-making pioneers.
What Is Cajun Music? Historically, traditional Cajun music is a blend of instrumental sounds and playing styles that were first learned from Louisiana's early settlers and later on from incoming immigrants. Black Creoles contributed rhythms and percussion techniques and improvised such instrumentation as washtubs for drums, kitchen soup spoons and washboards. The Spanish contributed the guitar. The violin and musical triangle have been credited to our settlers from France. German-Jewish merchants imported the accordion from Austria right after it was invented in the early 19th century. Acadians and Creole musicians learned how to coax familiar tunes and invented new ones on this new music-making contraption. The Irish and Anglo-Americans contributed new fiddle tunes and dances such as reels and jigs; and all of this eventually became a gumbo of musical sounds that were perfected into what is now Cajun music. It has a distinctive pattern, it's different from most other music. And, because Cajun music is dance music, one of the most essential elements is rhythm. It has also been said that Cajun music is primitive - it has been likened to ancient wailings from Asia.
Musical Instruments Aand Modern Day Influences Cajun musicians were greatly influenced in the 1930's and 40's by country-western singers and instrumentation. The accordion was not always the lead instrument in a Cajun band and many groups still include an intermix of sound from string, and/or steel and electric guitars to entertain their dancing audiences, and to accompany the vocalist. Today, a typical Cajun band may include the sounds from accordions, fiddles, rhythm-bass-steel, or electric guitars, drums and other percussion instruments such as the steel triangle, modified kitchen soup spoons, and even a musical washboard.
Songs It has been estimated that there are over 9000 Cajun songs that have been recorded since the 1920's and new ones are being composed at an average rate of 33 compact discs per year. Each disc can have as many as 10 to 14 new songs including (of course) some restyled old songs.
What Do Cajuns Sing About? Where do we get our melodies and lyrics? Like cultures worldwide, Cajuns sing about life-nostalgic melodies and lyrics about "the good old days". Some aspect of the past such as childhood memories or experiences influence Cajun musicans and these compositions always seem to be popular. We compose and sing about courtship, infidelity, marriage, aging and death. We sing about work and play. Many songs are just humorous poems put to music. Cajuns like to poke fun at themselves and others if the situation arises. Much of this humor can find its way into the lyrics of a lively two-step. Some songs like the "Mardi Gras Song" are very old and can be traced into medieval France. La Delaisse is another old song that can be traced to France. This one is about a jilted young woman who eventually takes her own life after killing her former lover. Another popular Cajun melody such as "I Passed By Your Door" appears to have originated from a composition for classical guitar by 18th century Spanish composer Frederico Sors. "The Cowboy Waltz" (Valse du Vacher) by Dennis McGee/Amedee Ardoin is sung in French to an Old World Mazurka. Cajuns also borrowed the best melodies from AngloAmericans and made them better by writing their own French lyrics to fit the tune. The Cajun, "I Went to the Dance Last Night" sounds a lot like "Get Along Home Cindy". The Cajun songs of Louisiana can generally be divided (Elizabeth Brandon, The Cajuns) into 4 groups: (1.) French folklore songs brought from Europe and Canada, (2.) Songs from American folklore translated into French, (3.) Songs composed by Louisiana Acadians (most modern songs), and (4.) Creole songs, indigenous to the French Islands and Caribbean.
Vocals - Cajun Singing Style Acadians arrived in Louisiana with few possessions. There was little room for instruments, and consequently their music at first consisted of humming or singing with no musical accompaniment (musique a bouche). The Cajun singing style of today, like the music, has become a blend of many cultures. In the 1750's the French, Irish and Anglo-Americans began sharing their repertoire of European folk songs with the newly arriving Acadians. It is also said that Indians of North America may have contributed to the wailing, high-pitched singing and terraced style attributed to modern day Cajun vocalists and, that Black Creoles contributed the sound of the blues and knack for improvisational singing. It is also likely (and most probable) that Cajun vocalists learned to use high-pitched vocals, so that their lyrics could be heard throughout the noisy dance halls, since there was little or no amplification at early Cajun fais-do-dos.
The Drum and Cajun Music Nothing influences your ability to dance, to go with the rhythm, more than the drum beat. The accordionist, or string section can also stimulate your urge to dance when they "second" the beat. But, in contrast, no instrument will initiate more comments from dancers, then when the percussion section sounds too loud. Sometimes it's the acoustics of a building that makes the rhythm sound bad; sometimes it's an overly enthusiastic drummer that's hitting the drums too hard, maybe even hitting the drum edges. Gerald Trahan of the Le Cajun committee once told us that the drummer can make or break a band, and that a good rhythm should be felt and not heard. He said that the most popular bands play with a soft rhythm. Murel Achee, of Baton Rouge, believes that a loud, hard sound can be distracting, instead of stimulating. He also said that a soft rhythm is healing; it will make someone dance, even though they didn't feel up to it when they left home. What makes up the percussion section of a Cajun Band? Drummer, Butch Golson (of Tout Les Soir) said that a typical band may have 3 to 5 drums; the large bass and several smaller snare drums, and 2 or 3 symbols. The triangle, spoons and scrubboard are also true percussion instruments. Butch is aware of hard-loud sounds that may bother dancers, and compensates by using bundle drumsticks ( a cluster of small dowels) each about 1/16 to 1/8 inches in diameter, taped or sleeved together. Michael Kingdon, director of the percussion section of L.S.U's School of Music, said the bundle of dowels can have as little as 6 to 8 sticks (of variable diameters); but we've observed that Butch and Mark Edmonson (of Savoir Faire) may have as many as 25 to 30 dowels, which soften the sound when the drumheads are struck. We wanted to know more about drumsticks and their influence on the drumbeat. Butch said bundle sticks are called cool rods, and the stiffer ones are hot rods. Michael Kingdon said there are three companies that make specialty drumsticks; but there is no technical term for the bundle type. He gave us another brand name, called blaststicks. Standard, paired drumsticks are made of birch, maple, or hickory, according to Michael. There's a company in Maine that turns out 80,000 pairs of standard drumsticks per week at $10.50 a pair. Each stick is tested for pitch, density, flex and moisture content to assure that they are perfectly matched. The company said that drumsticks should be constantly replaced, as you would the blades in your razor, even though they may look good to the drummer. We discovered that drummers are constantly experimenting to get the right sound that dancers need. Mark Edmonson and David Monique (with The Boudin Band) use a small pillow in the bass drum to muffle sound. Michael said muffling can also be accomplished by taping a paper towel inside the drumhead to absorb sound and prevent ringing, but sometimes muffling just changes the tone and does not reduce actual loudness. For symbols, he suggested using a 2x2 inch piece of masking tape near the edge to prevent ringing. The wires on snare drums are also adjustable to control reverberation, if the drummer takes time to do so. There are also drumsticks that are specifically designed to give a soft sound; they're called mallets, the sticks with the felt-coated rubber balls on the end, made to dampen the efforts of even the most enthusiastic drummer. And, in contrast to all of the above, there are times when a drummer may feel it necessary to put a microphone within the bass drum to enhance the sound, to make it audible to everyone if the dance hall is large.
Where did the Anglo term drum originate? It came from the Dutch, trom or tromme; the Cajun word is tambour and came from the Arabic, tanbur. Cajuns also use batterie (bot-ta-ree) for a set of drums, meaning that which is beaten. Keeping the rhythm is not the simple task that it may seem; and we hope this helps you to understand.
In Retrospect The musical style that you will hear today has been passed on from father to son, from uncle to nephew, grandfather to grandson. It had a unique beginning, being influeced by the
French, Germans, Spanish, Scotch-Irish, Anglo-American, Creole, Indian and of course, the Acadians themselves. The most important stylistic influence (according to the authors of Cajun Country) was from the Black Creoles (especially Amede` Ardoin) and most of the influences on the Cajun instrumental repertoire seems to be related to Irish and Anglo-American sources. Some music we have lost, 'cause Cajuns used to play double-time waltzes, contradances, polkas, mazurkas, one-steps, reels, square dances and hoe-downs. Today, you will hear traditional Cajun waltzes, two-steps and some good jig or jitterbug songs and exciting instrumentals that can be danced to a two-step, or the Zydeco-step pattern which seems to be increasing in popularity.
Taken in part from the below listed sources; you are urged to read these Publications:
The Cajuns, edited by Glenn Conrad
Cajun Country by Barry Ancelet, Jay Edwards, Glen Pitre
Tears, Love, Laughter by Pierre V. Daigle
KRVS Radio, Lafayette, Pete Bergeron, an informational source
Ye Yaille, Chere, Raymond Francois
Compiled for the Baton Rouge Dance Troupe as a reference, when they're asked, "tell us about Cajun music..."
What's in a name, revisited: We've heard from two CFMA members concerning the given name, Dieu Donne' (meaning, God given) as mentioned in our February newsletter. Joe Guilbeaux of Plaquemine tells us that he was a classmate of Dieu Donne' Montoucet, and everyone called him Dieu; many still do. But, after Dieu became the lead accordionist of Lawrence Walker's old band, he decided to ask his music followers to call him Don. It seems that everyone began to recognize Dieu as an excellent accordionist, and they would tell him so; but to be told that he was good, and in the same breath --- called Dieu --- probably made Don uncomfortable --- those were big shoes to fill. Hence, we have Don Montoucet, still one of the best accordion players around.
Our second contributor, Milton Guilbeau of Lafayette, tells a similar story. He knew of twins born about 100 years ago; unfortunately one did not survive, but had been baptized Donna Dieu. The surviving boy was christened Dieu Donne' Breaux; and he became a successful grocer on Simco Street in Lafayette. Everyone called him D.D., and his storefront bore the name D.D. Breaux ... now you know why.
You've probably guessed that Joe and Milton are related --- they're cousins. Joe, you may remember, is the one told Smiley Anders that "The best way to get Cajuns to go home when the dance is over, is to put on a Guy Lomardo record."
Memere a dit (Grandma said):
Il y'a des monde qui croire que leur figure est pas connecte' avec leur derriere; there are people who think that their face is not connected to their backside -- they actually believe that they're better than you...bet you know somebody like that? Contributed by Lois Webb, Breaux Bridge.
One More Time We're still getting responses about the stuffed pig's stomach. Our Friday night Chefs, Al and Martha Smith, and Ken and Rita Smiley, said that if we wanted to buy a prepared stomach from Poche's, we'd have to ask for a Soudis (sue-dee), which is what it's called in Breaux Bridge. Soudi's could just be a deviation of the pronunciation of Chaudin (which is in Father Daigle's Dictionary). It may have originated from souder (sue-day), the culinary application of which means to join together (to seal or bind) or to sew or skewer (pin) together, which is what they do with both ends of the stomach after it's stuffed...and that's our best guess. But, while researching the word soudis, we ran across chaurice (sho-reece) which is an interesting word for very hot sausage. It's made of pork, spicy with lots of black and red pepper, Un homme qui porte son chapeau a cote', est sur de soi meme; a man who wears his hat to the side is sure of himself (he's cocky).
What's in a name? According to Amanda LaFleur, author and researcher of Things Cajun, some given names can have significant meanings; and she gave Donald as an example. If a married couple had problems conceiving, and a child arrived late in the couple's life, the newborn was said to be Dieu donne', (don-nay) meaning God-given. Eventually, don-nay was pronounced Don-ald. Doneau (Don-o) is another old Cajun masculine name that is probably also related to the verb donner, to give. If your name has an interesting meaning -- tell us.
Kitchen Talk (revisited)....Claudia Racca adds to our discussion of pork stomachs: She said that in Ville Platte, the stomachs were cleaned and used as casings for large diameter sausages. After stuffing with the sausage mix, they were smoked and hung in the smokehouse until needed for cooking and seasoning (flavoring). Claudia also called the stew of internal organs une bouilli (boo-yee) which means "a boiling". You remember that Cajuns in Kaplan call the same dish, le debris (the trash). And Myrna Edwards agrees with LeRoy David, in that a stuffed stomach is called a gogg in New Roads (maybe it's spelled "gogue"). We believe that gogg may be a corruption of gobe or gobet which mean "a chunk", large piece, "the whole" or a big mouthful. But, we just report what we hear, and try to get it written down, cause Memere a dit, que un mot ecrit est jamais perdu, Grandma said that a written word is never lost.
Kitchen Talk....Boucherie time and hunters bringing home game have prompted several members to contribute to Kitchen Talk this month. Riz au Feve Des Choques is a jambalaya of rice. blackeyed peas and blackbird breasts. Allen Zerinque said his grandpa could feed several families with just one shot into a flock of blackbirds. Une Paunce bourre is a pig's stomach, stuffed with the chopped or ground-up internal organs of the animal. It's also called un chaudin (sho-dan) and sometimes un gobe. The stuffing is seasoned much like any dressing, using shallots, onions, garlic, parsley, peppers, etc, and may even include rice. It's baked or simmered in a black iron pot until all the ingredients are tender, and is considered by many as a Cajun delicacy. Some families didn't stuff the stomach but scraped it clean and ground it up with the heart, liver, spleen, pancreas, kidneys, tongue, sometimes the brains and even parts of the small intestine that weren't needed for casing sausage. The internal organs were called le debris (trashy parts of a pig) and when seasoned and simmered in a light roux (or plain) was served with rice as un super des debris, a supper of debris, at the end of a day of butchering. A stuffed stomach can still be ordered from the Best Stop in Scott, without all the hassle of making your own boucherie. Contributors were Pete Seymore, George and Margie Schexnayder, Nathan and Annette Woods, Gerald and Annette Bower, Rose Marie Lorio, LeRoy David, and LeRoy Dugas, who also asked us to pronounce the word for iron pot. It's chaudiere (sho-dee-aire).
Even Memere contributed to kitchen Talk this month. She said "C'est pas ca tu cuire, mais la maniere, qui fait la difference; it's not what you cook, but the way (you cook) that makes the difference." Mary Schexnayder always says that the tastiest way to cook a wild rabbit is to stuff it with garlic and brown it real good, nearly to the point of burning (but not) and then use the grimilles (grim-ees) that stick to the bottom of the pot to make your natural gravy; and serve over rice with white beans. And, this reminder--meat will not stick to the pot and make those tasty grimilles if you use too much oil, just a few tablespoons will do. Finally, Earl Berthelot, who often mentions the importance of vinegar in Cajun cooking, says that in addition to being a good ingredient as a seasoning, there's nothing better, nor cheaper, than vinegar for marinating wild game to remove blood and gamey odors.
Hungry??? Moi, aussi (me, too)
Memere a dit (Grandma said):
Cest mieux pour eleve les enfants la vielle maniere, avec une palatte, si necessaire, mais toujours avec ton coeur. Its OK (best) to raise children the old fashioned way, with a paddle when necessay, but always with your heart.Restraints on a horse or mule: Bud Zeringue asked for the word Cajuns use for the bridle or blinders on a mule. His grandfather may have said le bride (breed) or le bridon (bree-don) or le bosal (bo-sall). Separately, the blinders are called garde de yeux (eye guards). The bit is called the mors, and prendre le mors aux dents means to take the bit in the mouth, to bite the bit. A bouche-gueule is a muzzel used to stop mules from eating corn tops while working the rows. Hope we found the word you forgot, Bud.The accordion:
The accordion has declined from the peak of demand in the 1950's when manufacturers marketed over 1/2 million units per year. Accordions from Europe now amount to about 50,000 units annually. Louisiana also contributes another 800 units to musicians worldwide. Larry Millier gave us this information, and also said that he believes that the decline in use of the accordion is related to the increased popularity of string instruments. Because the accordion can be so loud, Raymond Francois, in his book about Cajun music, cautions accordionists not to overpower the other instruments. Most accordionists do not play when they, or another vocalist sings. In Cajun music, you may have noticed that the vocalist is usually accompanied by a string instrument (and of course the bass and drums). We're not sure if they do this to allow the lyrics to be heard, or if accordionists find it difficult to play and sing at the same time. Rodney said that he is aware of only 5 accordionists that play and sing simultaneously, and when they do, the notes are subtle (low) and generated near the end of a line of lyrics.
Cajuns seem to have recaptured some of the lost popularity of the accordion. In New Orleans and along Bayou Lafourche for example, most French-speaking bands now use the accordion. In the 1940's and 50's, we remember that vocalists in this area sang primarily to string and electric guitars in a semi-country western style. We called this French-music, not Cajun as we do today. A good reference about the structure of Cajun music can be found in Raymond's book: Ye Yaille, Chere.Memere a dit (Grandma said):
Un front fronce' dit pas que La cervelle ap'es travailler, Des fois c'est juste un mal de tete. A wrinkled brow does not mean that the brain is working, sometimes it's just a bad head-ache.Memere a dit (Grandma said):
Ca qu'ete promis, ni du whiskie peut chager la veritie. Neither whiskey nor promises (that which was promised) can change reality.Every radio program has a theme song, but most DJ's don't play enough of it for you to hear what they're singing about. Here's the translation of Lafayette's KRVS Bonjour Louisiane, Arc de Triompe Two-Step:
In Louisiana, every night we make big gumbos.In France, it's different, it's all pushed together.In Louisiana, every night we make love.In France, it's different, it's all pushed together.In Louisiana, every night we listen to bullfrogs.In Paris, it's different, it's to have a good time.
About that last line, wonder what the composer meant when he said "In Paris, it's to have a good time?" If making gumbo and love in Louisiana, and listening to bullfrogs that eventually wind up in the skillet isn't having a good time-then what is it? Juste la betise, Pete, we still like your song.Memere a dit (Grandma said):
Envoie ca au guerre sans (un) fusil, Send that (him or her) to war without a gun. Usually said in reference to someone that is forgetful, easily confused and generally not dependable. You would accomplish as much (nothing) by sending this person on an errand, as sending him to war without a gun. Contributed by Myrna's Mom, Mrs. Marie Laborde.
In mentioning the verb envoyer (ohn-voy-a) above, which usually means "to send", we also use it to mean "to throw", as Il a 'voye un caillou apres moi, he sent (threw) a rock after me, and they usually don't pronounce the prefix "en".Cajun Superstitions:
An umbilical cord (nom-bril) buried under a rose bush is said to influence the newborn to become a musician.
Also, a child should not kneel in front of a pregnant woman for fear of causing a miscarriage (fausse couche), malformations, or birthing problems (couche-mal).Memere a dit (Grandma said):
La peur vient fort avec la nuit, fear becomes stronger with the night. Explanation: you fear the wind and rain of a storm more at night, when you cannot see. Nightfall can also bring apprehension, when there is an illness, especially involving small children, who always seem to become more feverish with the night. From one of Barry Ancelet's poems.Fleuve (fa-leu-ve) montage d'eau, mounting of water (flooding).
The Mississippi River above New Orleans was called a fleuve instead of a riviere (ree-vare) because it flooded its banks every year. When Spring flooding caused bank caving and threatened the integrity of the levee, engineers would build a "set-back levee" away from the river and old levee. If a country house was in the way, it was not uncommon to also move it back a safe distance from the new levee work. Old houses built on large cypress sills, were easily moved by sliding, or rolling them on logs. They were pulled by teams of mules or tractors to their new locations, often not more than a few hundred yards from their original piers. We called this rouler une maison (rou-lay) to roll a house. We've heard that La Poissiere dance hall in Breaux Bridge was also moved across the road in this way to make room for the highway widening. Maybe someone will confirm this for us.Bortaule or maybe bortol, usually pronounced (bore-tall) is a word used on the Bayou Lafourche for an "alcoholic". This term probably came with the immigrants directly from France and seems to be related to the French verb. borner (bor-nay), meaning to limit oneself to something, to content oneself to doing just one thing. since alcoholics seem very content, just getting drunk; the word is very appropriate.
Contributed by Henry Toups.Memere a dit (Grandma said):
Lui qui vole un oeuf, peut voler un boeuf, he who steals an egg, can steal an ox.
Contributed by Lucy Sedotal, Pierre Part.Pour te faire Sourire (to make you smile):
Ils sont ap'es mettre les poteaus pour l'electricity, They're putting (up) the poles for electricity. Joe Guilbeau of Plaquemine likes to tell this tale about when electricity first came to Louisiana. Only towns, businesses or main thoroughfares were initially provided with this service. It wasn't profitable for the power companies to run electric lines to sparsely populated (farm) areas; consequently the people in rural areas went without electricity for years. They were unfamiliar with the mechanics of electrical devices, and were amazed when they came to town and heard music coming from the new speakers that were being hung, high on the walls of all the dance halls. Joe said that it wasn't unusual to see someone walk up to a speaker, look up, stand on tip-toe and yell a request to the band..."Play Jolie Blonde."
Did You Know? From time to time we've mentioned that there are hidden (inner) meanings associated with many, many words in the Cajun language that are not present in the English equivalent. Here are some more examples: In English an idol is a statue, a wedding ring is a special kind of ring and a sandfly is a fly, but in Cajun: An idol is a faux dieux, a false god; a wedding ring is une alliance, a union of two; and a sandfly is a frappe d'bord, pronounced fa-r-ropp da bard. About the fly, it's a blood-sucking insect that really hurts when it sticks you. The word means "sticks (you) at boaring'" it bites the instant it lands. These flys have large eyes, good eyesight, easily avoid your swat, and habitually land on the other side of your body when you swat at them. For this reason some Cajuns believe the fly is called frappe deux bord, meaning it "sticks (you) on both sides."Pour te faire sourire, to make you smile. Some Frenchmen think it demeaning to use English with French; many Cajuns do not, they mix English with French, make up words, and sometimes misunderstand each other when they mix the languages. What they say can make a Cajun who's fluent in French, shake his head; at other times it,s amusing. Gil Young of Eunice recently heard a radio announcer use the verb "afford" in a made-up Cajun sentence, pouvait pas afforder (could not to afford). The announcer had forgotten that "afford" translates in French to moyen (ability, a means, a way) and he should have said avoir pas des moyens (to have no means, no way to pay, no money). Annette Bower of Breaux Bridge told us of a conversation involving a very old Cajun lady, slightly hard of hearing, who misunderstood the caller's question, "who's speaking". and answered. "Non on pique, pas on est trop vieux." Another example involves the French verb grimper (to climb). It seems that a lady upon suddenly seeing a youngster high in a tree in her back yard, exclaimed, Oh. look where he grimp" (Pronouced gramp). Ask a French-speaking Cajun to explain the humor-sometimes humor doesn't translate.J'ai quitte l'ecole apres le cinquieme livre, I quit school after the fifth book (grade). This phrase dates back to the one room school houses of the late 1800's and early to mid 1950's, when a maitress de l'ecole (may-tress, school teacher) taught the class from a single book. Insted of "passing to the next grade", pupils passed to the next (more advanced) text. If a child had to quit school to help on the homestead, he or she wondered for a lifetime what secrets their "next book" might have revealed. Courtesy, Amanda LaFleur, WRKF Radio, 89.3 FM, Baton Rouge, LA.What or who is a macreau(x), pronounced "mack-crow". This is not in your dictionary, and Nonc Jules of KRVS radio said it sounded like it should be "some kind of fish". Henry Toups and Bob Brunet who brought it to our attention, said it's always used with vieux (old) macreau. A recent visitor, professor Ron Schiavo of Canada, told us that they add maudit (mo-dee) to the phrase. Initially, we thought the usage was limited to Bayou Lofourche, but Jimmy C. Newman used the word in a song that Nonc Jules recently played, and titled Magdalienne et Son Macreau (Madeline and her lover). Yes, macreau means "lover", but specifically, it means "womanizer". A maudit vieux macreau is an old, skirt-chasing, bad, evil, devil of a love-and leave-um type of man. Macreau is probably related to the verb, macorner (mack-cor-nay) which means to yoke or couple animals together (oxen, mules) in a temporary working situation. Thus, the term befits one who engages in temporary relationships, such as brief cohabitation without benifit of marriage. Macreau isn't used much anymore since temporary relationships seem to have become "acceptable" in our modern society, but the word will always be part of our language and is certainly more verbally abusive, and meaningful than the blande, anglo, "womanizer".Cool weather usually meant boucherie time for Cajuns and country folks. Pork was butchered and much of it smoked as a means to preserve it without refrigeration, and also to enhance the flavor. Smoked pork will add flavor to almost any dish--gumbo, beans, greens, spaghetti, etc., but we'd like to mention a simple dish of potatoes and smoked ham, andouille or tasso. A specialty of residents on the Amite River at French Settlement (north of Sorrento), it's called sauce (de) patates (pa-ta-att). The dish is comprised of steamed potatoes (etouffee) with all the right seasonings-salt, pepper, parsley, shallots, yellow onions, garlic and smoked pork. The secret to this tasty dish is the cooking process; it is steamed slowly until some of the potatoes dissolve into a watery gravy. It can be served over rice, or the sauce sopped-up with French bread. Um-good!
Gig (with a "g") Ever hear a musician speak of a gig? It's now considered slang for a booking or engagement for musicians, but the word apparently comes from Old French, from gigue, meaning fiddle or jig (the dance) or possibly from giguer, to dance. According to our American heritage dictionary, the "g" in these words is pronounced with a "z" sound.
Derober du mais (day-robe-a) to undress (shuck) corn. Derived from robe, a garment, this is a good example of the way Cajuns tend to give human qualities or characteristics to many things.It's fig season: Aussie gourmand que une bande des corneilles dans un figuier, as greedy as a bunch of crows in a fig tree. Crows feed in flocks and can strip a tree of all fruit in minutes, including figs that are not fully ripe. A tree raided by crows resembles one struck by hail, a few stems and bits of peeling may be all that remain. But if you got up early (before the birds) and managed to pick enough figs to preserve, try Janelle Richard's figue torte. It's an old recette (recipe) from her late Merraine Adele Manuel and goes like this:
1 1/2 sticks oleo, 1 cup sugar, 2 cup flour, 2 eggs, 1 tsp. almond extract, 1 tsp. vanilla. Mix oleo with sugar, add eggs, then flour - gradually. Spread 1/2 of batter in pan, add a layer of mashed fresh cooked or preserved figs, spread remaining batter on top. Bake 35 minutes at 350 degrees, and try not to be like a crow - gourmand - it's that good!
Pour t'faie sourire (to make you smile): On est parente de la fesse gauche, we are related on the left buttocks side; meaning we're related, but I prefer not to claim this person. Used in jest, but not necessarily a rejection of the relative.
Tourner Casaque (tour-nay, ka-sock) to turncoat, to run away, to desert. The English term, turncoat, probably came from the French, touner casaque, and dates as for back as the religious wars of the Reformation in France. The casaque (cassock) was the over-garment worn by soldiers. Those who wanted to abandon sevice or change sides during a conflict, turned their coats inside out to hide their rankings or origin. Both of the above are from Tonnerre Mes Chiens (Thunder My Dogs) courtesy of the author, Amanda LaFleur, French a Italian Dept., LSU. We're wondering if last month's Monter Cajaque could have been a corruption of Monter Casaque, to ride with only your clothes (coat) bareback? Send us your comments.....
Cajunism: Manger aux bouts les doigts, to eat at the tips of one's fingers: said of a picky or finicky person. To many Cajuns born during or right after the Great Depression, not eating the gristle ends (tiraille) on chicken bones is still considered "finicky".
Words and Phrases: Grand gosier (go-zee-a) means "big throat or gullet", and is Cajun for our State Bird. Mariners used to kill the Gulf Pelican and convert the skin from its throat into a tobacco pouch called a tabatiere (1900's) until most of the nesting area on the island was destroyed by storms and erosion. From W.A. Reed, La. French.
Rester (r-res-tay, trill the "r") means to stay, to live or remain (to reside). A French-speaking Cajun will never say "where do you live?" He'll always ask, "Where do you stay?" That's because his French vocabulary is spilling over into English conversation. Don Johnson recently asked about this. He's always been a very active and observant participant in matters Cajun. Don is a Cajun at heart, and often recognizes cultural subtleties that natural born Cajuns fail to notice. We've been lucky to have him as a member.
Sauf que hormis (hor-mee, sometimes hor-may) are words that mean "unless", but are never used by Cajun vocalists. Recently, hormis was used by young Creole artist Alida Viator in a song "Tu vas pas me courtiser, hormis tu parle Francais --- You won't court me unless you speak french." Hear this on a new release by Acadiana Records, Mo Belle Creole, produced by Fred Charlie, ACD-0120.
Our Search for the Origin of Words: Monter a cajaques (phonetic Ka-jack) to mount, or to ride a horse, bareback. Years ago, Father Daigle heard this phrase from a very elderly bougre des betes (cowboy) but the old gentleman could not explain why his family always used it when speaking of barebake riding .... can you help?The Search for a Word: About 5 years ago, Chic Hymel told us that in his youth, he heard his elders in White Castle use a word that sounded like "mousse-pluce" for the Japanese plum. We also remember that New Orleans called the plum a "japonica", but we've kept both terms in limbo until last winter's warm weather resulted in a bumper crop of plums this spring. That prompted us to start asking, and again searching for the proper Cajun name for this fruit. This time we came up with some interesting Anglo and French terms for the plum and the tree.
John Richard (Jennings-Port Allen) said the correct English name is loquot, which is defined as "a small tree with pear-shaped fruit". We also found that the scientific name (genus-specie) for the loquot is Eriobotrya Japonica, which gives credence to the use of "japonica" by New Orleanians. Naize Falgoust (Vacherie) who speaks as much standard french as Cajun, said her parents and neighbors used the word nef and neflier for the fruit and tree. (Nef has an "a" sound - naff - not "e"). Neflier is standard French for the Medlar, a tree of European origin that is similar, but not identical to our Japonese plum. Claudia Racca (Ville Platte) gave us Prunier de Japon for the tree, which simply means "plum tree from Japan." Mona Falgoust (Vacherie) thought she remebered the plum as "meuse-pa-luce". During a recent discussion at the Friday night dance with Preston Falgoust (Vacherie) and Tony Thibodeaux (Church Point-Bunkie), the phrases mur-plus (more ripe) jus-plus (more juice) and miel plus (more honey) were brought up.
We were looking for a word that adequately described the plum, but that had most likely been corrupted into "mousse-pluce", etc. Miel seemed like a good clue, and we found mielleux and mielleuse (meaning honeyed or sweet) in the dictionary. Could the word that Chic and Mona heard have been Mielleuse-plus? We think it was, since it defines a ripe plum as only a Cajun would: "honey-sweet, or sweeter than honey". Thanks, Chic for insisting that we follow through on "mousse-pluce", but now you should start pronouncing it ... mee-ell-euse-pluce... and give the "eu" a nasal sound.Did you know? Our Chapter is an active supporter of Friends of French Studies, organized about 2 years ago by the French and Italian Department at L.S.U. The group has a membership of 200 and is dedicated to promoting usage of Louisiana French, and preserving the unique cultural practices of the Cajuns for future generations. Students at the university now learn Cajun French and Standard French, and graduates in the French Dept. are researching and publicizing activities (some long forgotten) pertinent to our culture. A more inclusive Cajun Dictionary is also being compliled under the direction of Friends of French Studies and CODOFIL. There's been some lagniappe for us coming from this group, and it involves a weekly radio program, on 89.3 FM, shortly after the 12:00 news, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Its called The Louisiana Minute, presented by Amanda LaFleur, researcher and teacher in the Fench Dept. She's become nationally recognized as an authority on many things Cajun, and what she says on the radio will stir memories you've long forgotten. Ms. LaFleur recently spoke about LeCareme (lent), and old restrictions or exemptions, imposed or allowed by the Church as pertaining to lenten practices and penances. As a child, and like everybody else, she was allowed to eat fish, but not meat on certain days during lent. One exception was that her mother would cook duck, because that was exempt, c'etait pas de la viande (that was not of meat) since ducks lived around water, like fish. In other neighborhoods, she said that la viande du tortue (turtle meat) could be eaten for the same reason. If Amanda had asked the elderly from Vacherie or Bayou Lafourche, they would have told her that poule d' eau (coot, chicken of the water) was also exempted because the birds fed on aquatic vegetation, and they also had many fine bones in the thigh, resembling those found in fish. (Birds in the rail family have supporting bones in leg muscles like those in a turkey.) Visitors to Louisiana used to ask how the consumption of such excellent cuisine as duck, fish, or seafood, ect. (in lieu of meat) could be considered a penance, and Cajuns usually responded with a tongue in cheek grin, "We didn't make the rules, we just follow them."An old Cajun song: Brasse le Couche-couche, means stir the couche-couche. This is a Southwestern La. song about going to Texas to start a new life. In the late 20's and 1930's many Cajuns left La. for Texas to work in the oilfields. That was before offshore drilling was developed in La. In this song, the vocalist sings about taking a gamine (gah-meen - young girl) with him. He tells the girl to inform her father she's going to Texas, and he also tells her to bring her couronne, because they will marry in Texas. A couronne is a crown of flowers supporting a wedding veil. This song has a simple but lively chorus and the vocalist usually encourages audience participation. It goes like this (but in French of course):
"Stir the Couche-couche; milk well the cow; heat the coffee; I'm leaving this morning for Texas."About Couche-couche: It is an interesting Cajun word with Arabic ties. According to Raymond Francois in his book, Ye Yaille Chere, the word comes from the Arabic, couscous, which was a coarse wheat flour prepared in boiling water. Cajuns substituted cornmeal because they didn't grow wheat in La. They prepared the meal like this, usually for breakfast: 2 cups white cornmeal, 1 1/2 cups of milk, 1 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/2 cup cooking oil, and 1 teaspoon baking powder. Mix the ingredients and add to the hot oil in an iron skillet on high heat. After a crust forms stir once or twice, lower the heat and let simmer for 20 minutes. Serve with butter, cane syrup, clabber milk and sugar, or with eggs, sausage and coffee. The charred meal (gratin - grah-tan) at the bottom is still a delicacy to Cajuns. My grandpa ate his meal by pouring a little hot bacon grease over the couche-couche and sprinkling it with black pepper and vinegar, but cholesterol wasn't a word then.Gamin is a young boy, gamine is a young girl. Gaminerie (gah-meen-ah-ree) is childish or foolish behavior.References: Ye Yaille Chere and KRVS's Pete Bergeron who called this to the attention of his radio audience. To learn more about Cajun songs, read Raymond's book. Call him at (337) 234-4239, Lafayette.Cajunisms:
Pendant la nuit, tous les chats sont gris - at night, all cats are grey (dark), meaning you can't always tell a person's true character and/or, things are not always what they may seem.Chat echaude, craint l'eau froide - a scalded cat (even) fears cold water, meaning once fooled, you're twice as careful.Words or Phrases:Chat (pronounced sha) is generic for "cat", but the female is usually called a chatte (shot) and the tom a matou (ma-two). The Louisiana Bobcat is called a pichou (pee-shoe) or chat tigre (sha-teeg), meaning tiger cat. The Cajun word pichou is thought to be of Indian origin, from pichu (wild cat) or pichiu (lynx) and was possibly brought to Louisiana by Canadian travelers. The expression "mechant comme un pichou" (bad as a wild cat) is still used to designate a malicious person. Cajuns also refer to a bad or mischievious little girl as a "tite pichouette" (teet pee shoo-ette). Cajuns also use "chat!", emphasizing the "s" sound, to chase a cat.Freau (pronounced and anglicized to "froe or flow") is a cleaving tool that was used to split short logs into planks, or to make wooden shingles. The heavy blade of malleable iron (to facilitate sharpening) was attached at right angles to a wooden handle that was held in the left hand, while the head of the blade was struck with a mallet or short piece of oak or ash. (To prevent damage to the head of the blades, it was never struck with a metallic hammer). A fence made of such planks (split, not sawed) was called une barriere a pieux (pee-oh). Morris Savoie told us that pieux has been corrupted to "pew" in the Prairieville area, and he also demonstrated the use of a freau at the International Festival in Baton Rouge last October.Cajunism (un sous-colline de terre): A scoundrel (pronounced sue-co-leen-day-tear) and was probably elided from the phrase plus bas qu'une sous une colline de terre, meaning "lower than someone under a hill of dirt". A colline is a "hill", but is seldom used by Cajuns anymore. My late father referred to drunkards, dead-beats and crooked politicians as such. Gombo vertes or gombo d'herbes (gumbo vehr or zeb) means "green gubo" or "gumbo of legumes". A winter dish that is a meal in itself. Spinach, mustard and turnip tops are de-stemmed, finely chopped, and added to a pot of simmering stew meat. Cuts of beef or pork such as brisket, neck or shoulder are browned then added to a roux, seasoned with onions, garlic, salt and pepper. The greens and meat are cooked to the consistency of a heavy sauce and served over rice. Smoked ham or tasso can also be used, but greens boiled with cured meat are a different dish if the roux is omitted. Marmite (mar-meet): A small tin bucket with a wire hanle and cover (about the size of a child's sand bucket) that was used by Cajun women to send warm food to their men working in the sugar cane fields. Fifty years ago, cultivating sugar cane was more laboring than it is today. Men left the house before daybreak so as to complete most of their work before it got too hot. Because there was no electricity (lights) they usually didn't fix breakfast before leaving. Later in the morning, the women cooked and sent their children to find their father and deliver his meal in the food bucket. The marmite was a simple pail with no dividers so, grits or rice was put in first, then eggs, sausage, chicken or meat was placed on top. some of the better pails (that didn't rust) were of porcelain and said to be en granite (ahn, gran-eet) of granite. Octogeneraian, Agathy Falgoust, from Vacherie said she never threw out a cup with a broken handle because it could be filled with gravy or beans, and it cradled nicely into the rice at the bottom of the marmite. Note: In France, marmite is a cooking pot that we in Louisiana call a chaudire (sho-dee-air). Fricassee (free-kA-say) is a stew. We believe this work comes from frire (to fry) and cassé (kA-say, to break). We "break" or interrupt the frying process (the browning of meat) when water is added to make a stew. Epouvantail (a-poo-vohn-tie): a scarecrow. Mitch Landry told us that a Creole musician said that his people called a scarecrow un bon homme; and from the Vacherie - Choque Bay area we heard vieux bon homme which means "very old man", and a bent over scarecrow in a field can certainly look like an old man.
Pierres de Savon (pee-air, sa-vohn): translates to "little rocks for soap". Cajuns who worked in the oil fields had access to sodium hydroxide (caustic) which was easier to use than wood ashes to make soap. They boiled caustic crystals with tallow to make country soap savon du pays (sa-vohn, pay-ee). Contributed by Gilman Aguillard and Joy Ortego Cajunism: chaque crapaud a sa crapaute (kra-poe, kra-paut): translates into "each toad has his toadette", and means "there's someone for everyone". This saying is used in jest when referring to somebody whose looks, personality or eccentricities would seem to prevent them from attracting a mate. Yet, they do, in spite of all, find someone just like they are - their own crapaute or crapaud. Contributed by Rodney & Diana Thibodeaux Tournesol (tourn-sol): Cajun for the "sun flower." Sol means "sun" and tourner means "to turn around", to face the sun, as sunflowers do. From WYNK, Mick Abed. Fleuri-d'eau (fleur-ee-doe): a unique term used by the people of Pierre Part in reference to the "high water marks" left on trees and stumps after flood waters receded. Flourissant means "flowering", and since plants flower at their "peak of seasonal growth", it was logical for Cajuns to make this analogy, to refer to the high water marks (the peak of flooding) as "the flowering of the water." From Raymond Sedotal, Pierre Part. Voilette (vol-let): a small sailboat, a shrimp trawler. Louisiana's first shrimpers were powered by sails, called voiles. Voler means "to fly or to use the wind." Did you know that Louisiana waters are home to at least 9 species of shrimp? The one with the most interesting name, the seabob, was also unique in the shrimp industry. It was a specie that could easily be caught and dried in commercial quantities. Seabobs were "schooling" shrimp; they occurred in large numbers close to the shoreline of the Gulf. A shallow water shrimp, it seldom reached 4 inches in length, but its small uniform size (and abundance) made it ideal for the dried shrimp industry. Cajun fishermen called the Seabob, chevrette a sept barbe, "shrimp with seven whiskers." Actually, Seabobs have eleven whiskers, some more conspicuous than others, which gives it a "bearded" appearance. Today, small brown shrimp have replaced the Seabob in the dried shrimp business. The Pirogue (pee-r-rogue) was not always the sleek fiberglass or plank and plywood boat of today. It antedates the coming of the white man by more than a thousand years. The French and Spanish explorers were quick to recognize the usefulness of this craft, which they obtained from the Indians. American Indians were the pioneer pirogue builders in Louisiana, and some of their crafts were huge and could accommodate thousands of pounds of cargo and many, many paddlers (people). These boats (that we now call dugouts) were made with the aid of fire, built at the base of a cypress or cottonwood tree, and stoked until the tree fell down. They then burned it off at the desired length, and also used fire and crude scraping tools such as shells to "hollow" the log while protecting vital parts with mud. Some were documented to have been up to 40 feet long and 6 feet wide, carved from giant cottonwood, which can attain a diameter of 7 feet. The derivation of our word, pirogue, is as interesting as the origin of the craft. It comes from the Carib dialect and translates into Spanish and French as piragua, which means "dug-out". The French are said to have brought the name of this craft from the Caribbean to Canada, where it eventually found its way to Louisiana. Writer and adventurer A.L. DuPratz called this a pettyaugre in his documentaries of 1718.
Cajun SongsDid you know how Cajun songs originate? The writers seem to use different techniques, but all agree that they can compose a song anytime, any place - in a crowd, alone or even while traveling on the highway; and that's where Barry Ancelet was inspired to write "Late in Life" for Wayne Toups - in a parking lot, after leaving the highway when he thought of the right words. The lyrics of many Cajun songs are simply written about "the things that people do," according to Doris L. Menard. Helen Boudreaux, recognized for nostalgic songs about her "roots," expresses her lyrics poetically, and "a melody usually develops as the lyrics are being written," she said. Camey Doucet told us that his songs often start with a "catchy phrase or musical line," and he develops the song from that. Pierre V. Daigle, who has written dozens of popular Cajun songs, usually starts with a tune "that just seems to come to him," and he writes the lyrics to fit that melody. For various reasons some beautiful Cajun songs stay with the composer many years before being released. John Richard wrote "One of These Days" 30 years ago, but didn't record it until 1996. Ivy Dugas' "Gravel Road," prize winning song for Le Cajun, 1997, was recorded 20 years ago using C and G accordions, but never released because, Ivy said, "it just didn't sound right." Using someone else's B flat accordion he won Song of the Year for the latest version.
Did you know that Camey Doucet's mother never heard his composition, "Mom, I'm Still Your Little Boy"? This popular song actually became a tribute, written and dedicated to her after her death. Camey's father was so overwhelmed when he first heard it, that he could only bow his head and cry. This may offer consolation to those that forgot to tell their parents of their love ... until it was too late.