The Surprising Origins of Words Like 'Cumin', 'Panzer', and 'Chícharo'

Where 'England' and Other Unexpected Etymologies Come From

Why might Europe's most recognizable demonym miccionan 'twisted man'? The name England doesn't come from a king or a battle, but from Anglia (Angeln), a narrow peninsula in present-day Denmark from which the Angles hailed. And the toponym is so elusive that philologists propose two very different explanations: an Indo-European root '-eng' meaning narrow, thin, or slender—the one found in 'enjuto' (lean) and perhaps 'anguila' (eel)—and another '-henk' meaning twisted, related to 'hook,' 'ancla' (anchor), and 'ángulo' (angle).

Curious etymologies of common words could fill several volumes, but few are as entertaining as those that slip into the language unnoticed. From Mesopotamian tablets to Greek, from Germanic to Arabic, what is said at the bar today is an archaeological site. The only difference from real archaeology is that here the site speaks.

Why 'Cumin' Hasn't Changed Its Name in 5,000 Years

Cumin comes from the Akkadian 'gamun,' documented on Mesopotamian tablets from the 3rd millennium BC. From there it passed to 'kamūnu,' then to Greek 'kyminon,' and finally to the Roman 'cuminum.' Four thousand years of travel between languages, and we still call it the same. It is, probably, the longest-lived linguistic fossil that goes into a stew.

Words that seem to come from one place but originate elsewhere coexist on our tables. The pea is known as 'chícharo' at least in Cádiz, and the term holds no mystery: it comes from the Latin 'cicer,' which designated the chickpea. The same root supports the cognomen of Cicerón (Cicero), an agricultural surname among the many that Romans used, like the Fabios (from beans) or the Cepiones (from onions). Legumes have their own neighborhoods.

And then there's 'siesta' (nap), which few associate with Rome. It comes from the Latin 'sens' (sixth), because the Roman day was divided into four three-hour periods—prima, tertia, sens, and nona—and the sixth hour fell at noon, right in the middle of 'meridies' (midday). 'Hogar' (hearth) has an even more poetic connection: 'hogar' and 'hoguera' (bonfire) are the same word, the fire around which the group gathered before houses with walls and doors existed.

Delirar, Verso, and Contar: When the Countryside Dictated Vocabulary

Latin was the language of farmers, and this is evident even in abstract vocabulary. 'Delirar' (to rave) comes from 'delirare,' to stray from the furrow made by the plowshare; the ridge between furrows was called 'lira,' and from this came the word 'verso' (verse, furrow). 'Contar' (to count) comes from 'fruta,' which previously meant to prune. And 'luxus' designated the abundant vegetation that ruined the harvest long before it meant luxury, carrying all the pejorative nuance it still retains.

The pattern repeats in all languages: each culture draws its metaphors from what is close to it. The Roman, from the field and the furrow; the Greek, from the sea. Not in vain does 'razón' (reason) come from 'ratio,' the furrows traced for cultivation, and 'economía' (economy) from the Greek 'oikos,' which is the house. When someone talks about managing the furrows of their house well, they are being more literal than they think.

Oso, Lobo, and Venus: Words Born from Taboo

Some names were born out of antiestéticar of pronouncing the real one. In Russian, 'oso' (bear) is 'miedvied,' literally 'the honey eater,' and in Germanic languages, the animal received a similar circumlocution: 'the bees' wolf,' or simply 'the beast,' which is what 'bear' means. The cause is a prehistoric taboo, that of not naming the beast by its real name to avoid summoning it. The mechanism is still alive: in India, people avoid referring to the tiger directly.

'Veneno' (poison) is another case in reverse. According to one explanation found in the thread, the word is related to Venus because many of those formulas were simply failed love potions or attempts at potency brews that ended badly. And even the 'amén' (amen) that concludes prayers carries an Egyptian shadow: it could be traced back to Amón (Amun), the god who ruled in Thebes, although this hypothesis is not widely accepted. A detail to ponder during mass, if one is inclined to think during mass.

Quilate, Panzer, and Diana: When Words Change Jobs

'Quilate' (carat) comes from the Arabic 'quirat,' and this, in turn, from the Greek 'keration,' the name of the carob seed. As they were very regular, five seeds equaled one gram, and hence their use for weighing metals and checking their purity. A tree seed turned into a unit of luxury.

Gunpowder was named in China as 'fire medicine,' because it originated in the furnaces of Taoist alchemists who were seeking something else. And the German 'panzer,' so martial on paper, hides a domestic surprise: the piece of armor that protected the belly was called in Italian 'pansiero,' from 'panza' (belly); it passed to French as 'pansière' and from there to German as armor, 'panzer.' The 'Panzerkampfwagen' is nothing more than an armored combat vehicle. A whole belly on tracks.

It's similar with 'diana' (dawn bugle call). The military dawn call comes from the Italian 'diana,' derived from 'dì' (day), because it announced the sunrise. The leap to target (shooting) is still not settled among etymologists, although the hunting goddess Diana is the most common bridge.

Andalucía, Segarro, Bilbao: Names No One Has Finalized

Andalucía still lacks a definitive explanation. It is associated with Al-Andalus, and Al-Andalus could derive from the Vandals, the Germanic people who departed from the Baltic and ended up in North Africa. So far, so good. The problem is that 'wandjaz' meant 'wanderer,' so Spain's most photogenic community might owe its name to a bunch of globetrotters. The joke tells itself. But it's worth remembering that toponyms are rarely what they seem, and that the Iberian map retains Tartessian, Phoenician, Turdetanian, and Roman layers far older than any subsequent conquest.

Jovenlandia (Segarro) has a cleaner origin: its name comes from Marrakech by synecdoche, just as 'segarro' (Moor) refers to the 'mauri,' the inhabitants of Roman Mauritania, without the pejorative connotation later attached to it.

And in Bilbao, a legend of steel circulates: a short sword, wielded with the left hand to finish off an enemy occupied with the long sword, which in the Anglo-Saxon world was called a 'bilbao' and which Shakespeare even mentioned. In the Hispanic sphere, the name is debated, between 'misericordia' (mercy killer) and 'daga vizcaína' (Basque dagger), but the anecdote is worth its weight in iron.

England is the land of thin men, or twisted men, or eel pies. Take your pick. We've spent two thousand years without agreeing, and it's not going to be this evening that the matter is settled. At this point, it hardly matters: the word has been spoken, and no one can take it back.