In Armenia, folks like to Shnorhavor things.
This word, shnorhavor, roughly translates to “congratulations,” but, as with a lot of cases when trying to succinctly translate something, it doesn’t do the word justice (I suppose this goes especially for translations between two languages as disparate as English and Armenian).
You hear “shnorhavor” in Armenia in a lot of the situations where you would also here the English “congratulations,” like during weddings, or when you’ve just moved into a new place. You also hear it in some contexts where someone perhaps could give you a “congrats” in English, but it would ring a bit odd, like during birthdays (I don’t think people say “congratulations on your birthday,” all too often), when somebody in the village gets new windows, or when a grandchild gets new shoes. And then there are the situations where the translation seems to definitely be off, like the first day you wear a tie to work or when the first of a certain local mountain plant this season have grown and are ready to eat.
It seems to mean much more than just a simple “congratulations,” is used often and creatively, and is always meant sincerely and to express good will (you don’t hear a lot of sarcasm around here, if any). A few of my favorite Shnorhavors I’ve experienced in country so far are as follows.
Նոր Կացին Շնորիավոր - Nor Katsin Shnorhavor – Congrats on the new axe
To stave off the cold during the brutal Armenian winter, I chopped a pretty substantial amount of wood toward the end of last year for my wood burning stove. I used my landlord’s old axe that I found in his storage area at first, but it didn’t last long. I’m no expert lumberjack, my form is probably laughable (at least to Armenians) and I take wild swings sometimes that dig into knotty portions of the wood that dull the blade and weaken the shaft. After a few days of using it, I had broken my landlord’s axe, split the shaft right in two. My neighbors tried helping me fix it, but it was bound to break again, so I started looking for something a little stronger/safer. I headed to Meghri, the nearest town, bought myself a new shaft and blade for a total of 4,000 dram. I was then told that I should bring the parts to a man named Hamlet, who lived in my village and apparently was the local master craftsmen of sorts. I brought the two parts to his house, and his daughter told me that in a few days he’d have it all fixed up and ready for me. About three days later, as I was getting ready to leave work at the school, I was called into the teacher’s lounge. There, resting in the middle of the room on a table usually dedicated to class textbooks, notebooks of lesson plans, and cups of coffee was a shinning new axe. My schools art teacher had written “TOM” in blue sharpie on the shaft, so that it was perfectly clear exactly who this tool of destruction belonged to. Hamlet had not simply attached the axe head to the shaft for me. The blade was razor sharp, and behind the axe head he had installed a small iron plate, reinforced with bolts, to make it super secure and more or less indestructible. Walking out of the school with this deadly thing, I was immediately swarmed by the 3rd, 4th and 5th grade boys hanging out in the playground. They gathered in a circle around me, jumped up and down, tried to come up to touch it, and gave me many a sincere “shnorhavor” on my new acquisition. In Armenian villages anyway, it’s not really looked down upon for teachers to walk out of schools with big, razor sharp axes.
Բոխի Շնորիավոր - Bokhi Shnorhavor – Congratulations to Bokhi (??)
The other day at work, my school’s principal, a white-haired, stout, severe but also mischievous kind of man, told me that I need not go to the third grade during the upcoming class period, because we had something important to do in his office. Per usual, he didn’t tell me what this was, but I obliged without any sort of complaint because, well, if the school head says I don’t have to teach next hour, then I’m not. I walked into his office to see the small table all set up with sausage, cheese, lavash, fruit, and a mysterious, green, limp, celery-looking vegetable on a platter in the center. “Tom, this is called Bokhi,” he explained to me. He said it was the first Bokhi of the spring, fresh from the mountains, and we had to celebrate a little. Two of the other male staff at the school, Karen and Aram, joined us, and we spent the next 45 minutes chowing down and sipping my director’s homemade vodka with many toasts of “Boki shnorhavor.”
Փողկապ Շնորիավոր - Poghkap Shnorhavor – Congratulations on the tie
Last Friday, the American Ambassador to Armenia paid a visit to my school. I’ll have more on that whole ordeal in another post, but overall it went great. Among many other preparations for the visit, I decided I’d put on a tie for the occasion, which is the first time I’ve worn one at the school (despite the fact that for some reason I packed about 5 of my favorite ties when I left America last summer). One of my 7th grade students, a boy named Roler, said to me when I walked in, “Mr. Tom you are wearing a tie!” I responded in the affirmative. “Shnorhavor,” he said to me sincerely.
Ձեր Տոնը Շնորիավոր - Dzer Tone Shnorhavor – Congratulations on your holiday
On pretty much any Armenian holiday, you’ll hear shnorhavoring going on all around the village. On Nor Tari (new year), everyone shnorhavor’s everyone, saying what would translate to “congrats on your holiday!” and then the response, “yours too!” On other holidays, people are shnorhavored who have a connection with the holiday, so for instance army veterans are shnorhavored on WWII victory day, which Armenian’s do in fact celebrate. One thing that’s confused me a bit though is that on just about every Armenian holiday, I’ve been told “your holiday shnorhavor” by my students, regardless of if I have a connection or not. I’ve of course been told “shnorhavor” on big holidays like
Nor Tari, but I’ve also been told “congrats on your holiday” on holidays like Women’s Day, Armenian Army Day, and Russian Army Day, which is still celebrated widely since many Armenian men served in the Russian Army, and also sort of serves as an unofficial “Men’s Day,” here as well.
