Tom Reilly Memorial Scholarship
Congratulations to Trisha Thomas, the first annual recipient of the Tom Reilly Memorial Scholarship.
Congratulations to Trisha Thomas, the first annual recipient of the Tom Reilly Memorial Scholarship.
It is possible to pay the remainder of your Cwrs Cymraeg 2013 fees on-line using PayPal and this handy form. Select the options you wish by clicking on the “Add to Cart” buttons. This will add the items to your “shopping cart.” When you choose an item, a window will open showing what is currently in your shopping cart. It will also allow you to change quantities if desired.
It’s easy. Just follow the steps below:
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If you have paid your $100 deposit and are not receiving a scholarship, choose the appropriate room type from the dropdown list. Then click the “Add To Cart” button to finalize your registration and lodging payment. Please note that the registration cost has been reduced for your $100 deposit | If you have applied for a scholarship for Cwrs Cymraeg 2013, you should hear the results from the Scholarship Committee on or shortly after the end of May. Please wait until you hear the results of your scholarship application before proceeding with your final payment. | |
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We will have our annual off-campus mid week trip for $25 (USD). If you wish to join us, click on the “Add to Cart” button below: |
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This year, we’re offering something a little different – an official Cymdeithas Madog tote bag. It’s just the thing to take your books to class and costs $12. If you wish to purchase a tote bag, click on the “Add to Cart” button below: |
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Extra nights in the university residence will be available 1 night before and after the Cwrs, for those arriving early or leaving late. If you would like to request extra nights, please contact our registrar at the address below with your request as soon as you have finalized your travel plans: {loadposition Registrar} |
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Cymdeithas Madog’s Scholarship Endowment Fund allows students who would otherwise not be able to come to Cwrs Cymraeg to attend. If you would like to make a donation to the Fund to help others come and learn Welsh, you can make a donation to the Cymdeithas Madog Scholarship Endowment Fund using PayPal. To make a donation, click on the “donate” button below. You will be taken to Cymdeithas Madog’s PayPal donation page where you can specify the amount of your donation. {loadposition DonationButton} |
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Your payment for Cwrs Cymraeg 2013 has now been made. We look forward to seeing you in July. If you have any questions or concerns, please consult the registrar at the following address: {loadposition Registrar} |
Many years in the past, Cymdeithas Madog used to produce an annual snail mail newsletter called the Cyfeillion Madog—the Friends of Madog. It’s been several years since our last paper newsletter went out, but we’ve revived the Cyfellion Madog in PDF format.
We will be announcing the availability of scholarships once registration opens in 2014. If you have any questions or concerns about the scholarship procedure in the meantime, please contact the chair of the Scholarship Committee at the address below:
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In order to help you pronounce Welsh words correctly, here is a guide to the Welsh alphabet. Note that there are a couple cases where a Welsh “letter” is actually made up of two characters (e.g., “ch“, “dd“, etc). So when you’re next doing a Welsh crossword puzzle, remember that these double character letters fit into one box.
Letter | Sound | |
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a | short: “a” as in “ham“, e.g., “mam” long: “a” as in “hard“, e.g., “tad“ | |
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b | as in “boy“, e.g., “bara“ | |
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c | as in “cat” (never the “s” sound as in “cent“), e.g., “cant“ | |
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ch | a non-English sound as in Scottish "ch" in "loch", e.g., "bach" | |
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d | as in "dog", e.g., "dros" | |
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dd | "th" (voiced) as in "the" (never the voiceless "th" sound as in "thin, e.g., "bedd" | |
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e | short: "e" as in "then", e.g., "pen" long: similar to "e" in "then spoken in a southern drawl, e.g., "hen" |
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f | as in "of", e.g., "afal" | |
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ff | as in "off", e.g., "ffŵl" | |
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g | as in "god", e.g., "glan" | |
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ng | as in "long", e.g., "ing" | |
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h | as in “hat”, e.g., “hen“ | |
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i | short: “i” as in “sit”, e.g., “inc“ long: “ee” as in “seen”, e.g., “hir“ |
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j | as in “jam”, e.g., “jar“ | |
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l | as in “lamp”, e.g., “lol“ | |
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ll | an aspirated ‘l’ which does not occur in English, sounded by placing the tongue so as to say ‘l’ and hissing out of one side of the mouth, e.g., “llan“ | |
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m | as in “man”, e.g., “mab“ | |
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n | as in “name”, e.g., “nos“ | |
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o | short: “o” as in “gone”, e.g., “llon“ long: as in “more”, e.g., “to“ |
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p | as in “pet”, e.g., “pen“ | |
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ph | an aspirated ‘p’ occurring only as a mutated form, sounded as in “graph”, e.g., “tri phen“ | |
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r | as in “rat”, e.g., “caru“ | |
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rh | an aspirated ‘r’ which does not occur in English; the difference between ‘rh’ and ‘r’ is similar to that betwen ‘wh’ and ‘w’ in “when” and “went”, e.g., “rhan“ | |
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s | as in “sit”, e.g., “sant“ | |
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t | as in “top”, e.g., “tan“ | |
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th | as in “thin”, e.g., “cath“ | |
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u | short: as in “sit”, e.g., “sut“ long: as in “seen”, e.g., “un“ |
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w | as in “wind”, e.g., “wedi“ short: as in “look”, e.g., “cŵm“ long: as in “fool”, e.g., “mwg“ |
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y | short: as in “sit”, e.g., “cyn” (clear sound) short: as in “gun”, e.g., “yn” (obscure sound) long: as in “seen”, e.g., “dyn” (clear sound) |
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Besides being a frequent teacher on Cymdeithas Madog Welsh language weeks, Alun Hughes is also our resident grammarian. In this article, Alun explains how to perform the seemingly impossible: how to look up a word in a Welsh – English dictionary. It’s a little like playing with fire. But if you follow Alun’s tricks, you’ll locate that word in next to no time.
How to find words in a Welsh dictionary? Why, what could be easier? You just look them up – they are in alphabetical order after all. If you want the Welsh word for arm you look under ‘A’ and you find braich, if it’s dog you want, you look under ‘D’ and you find ci, and so on. And it’s the same if you have the Welsh word and want the English equivalent. You find the English for braich under ‘B’ and English for ci under ‘C’. What’s the big deal? As long as you know your alphabet, what could possibly go wrong?
Well, as everyone who has ever studied Welsh knows, the answer is ‘a lot.’ There’s no problem with the English-Welsh section, but the Welsh-English section is a different matter. Take the English for chwith, for example, or the English for ffenest — you certainly won’t find them under ‘C’ and ‘F.’ And neither will you find the meaning of stafell under ‘S’ – you find it under ‘Y.’ And as for the English equivalent of nhgeffyl, the last place you should look for it is under ‘N’ — try ‘C’ instead. But then nant you’ll find in two places, under ‘N’ and ‘D’! Yet all of these are perfectly normal Welsh words, so what’s going on?
What’s going on is four things — alphabetical ordering, syllable loss, inflection, and mutation. Let us examine each one in turn.
The alphabet — the Welsh alphabet that is — is as follows:
a b c ch d dd e f ff g ng h i j l ll m n o p ph r rh s t th u w y
Certain letters in the English alphabet (like ‘k,’ ‘q’ and ‘x’) don’t occur in Welsh, and these clearly are no problem to the dictionary user. But the famous double letters (like ‘ch,’ ‘ng’ and ‘rh’) that do occur in Welsh are a problem.
There are seven of these, though only five of them (‘ch,’ ‘ff,’ ‘ll,’ ‘rh’ and ‘th’) can occur at the beginning of words, at least words in their basic unmutated form. So if you want the meaning of chwith, say, you must look it up in the ‘CH’ section of the dictionary, not ‘C.’ Not too much difficulty there. It’s when these letters occur inside words that things can get confusing.
Thus you find the word cythlwng, not as you might expect after cytgroes, but after cytunus. The point is that all the words starting with cyt- are listed before those starting cyth-. Similarly, mach comes after macyn, goddaith after godwrdd, hoff after hofran, allafon after alsoddeg, and so on. If you want to know what these words mean, then look them up — you now know how to find them!
One double letter cause particular problems; this is ‘ng,’ which occurs not after ‘n,’ but after ‘g,’ when placed in alphabetical order. Consider the word cangen. To look this up in the dictionary you go to ‘C’ obviously, but where do you look under ‘C’? You do not look after can-; instead, you must look after cag-, which let’s face it takes a little getting used to. It would be nice if, having got used to this, you could rely on it as a general rule. Unfortunately you cannot. Thus the word dangos, for example, is found, yes under ‘D,’ but after dan-, not dag-. This is because the ‘n / g’ combination in dangos is actually a combination of the two letters ‘n’ and ‘g’ — it is not the double letter ‘ng.’
How can you tell which is which? You can’t really, and the only solution when confronted by ‘ng’ is to gry after g- first (this is the more likely possibility), and if that doesn’t work then try after n-. You’ll find your word eventually — guaranteed.
The second problem that dictionary users face is the loss of syllables. An example is writing ffenest for ffenestr, reflecting the way the word is usually spoken. In this case the loss occurs at the end of the word and has no effect on dictionary use. But it can also occur at the beginning, which can really confuse the unwary. Thus you won’t find stafell under ‘S’; you find it under ‘Y,’ since the word is really ystafell. In some dictionaries also (they do vary somewhat in this respect), you have to check ymenyn to learn the meaning of menyn.
Not many words are affected in this way, and most begin with ‘y,’ which often gets dropped in speech when it occurs at the start of the word. Thus you often hear sbyty for ysbyty, ma for yma, swiriant for yswiriant, and so on. Other examples in words that do not begin with ‘y’ are da for gyda and goriad for agoriad. Often these abbreviated forms are written with an initial apostrophe (e.g., ‘goriad) to indicate that something is missing.
By inflection, I mean those changes that words undergo to denote variations in grammatical function. Some languages (like Latin) are highly inflected, while others (like English) are not. Welsh falls somewhere in between. The following sequence from English is a simple example: I see, you see, he sees, she sees. In this case, the inflection applies to a verb, and consists simply of the addition of ‘s’ to denote the third person. Another example would be the changing of I see to I saw to denote the past tense. Relatively few inflections remain in modern English, and those that do are fairly simple.
Inflections are much more common in Welsh, however, and occur in situations where they don’t in English. Thus, not only do we have the verbal inflection cysgais, cysgaist, cysgodd meaning I slept, you slept, he/she slept, we also have the prepositional inflection arnaf, arnat, arno, arni meaning on me, on you, on him, on her. The problem for the dictionary user is the fact that only the root form of the word (in this case cysgu and ar) is listed, and while this is sufficient to get a sense of what is meant, grasping the full meaning requires a knowledge of the endings.
A complication sometimes encountered is that not only the ending changes, but also some other part of the word. An example is the verb canu, to sing, which in the past tense becomes canais or sometimes cenais, a small change perhaps, but one that could really throw off a dictionary search. More extreme examples are the irregular verbs like mynd, where the inflected forms (e.g., aeth, ewch) bear little or no resemblance to the root. The same problem occurs with many regular verbs in literary Welsh, specifically in the third person singular of the future tense — who would think, for example, that egyr is related to agor, or geilw to galw? There is no simple solution — these things just have to be known.
The final cause of difficulties in looking up Welsh words in a dictionary, probably the most troublesome of all, is mutation. Mutations are those changes that the initial letter of a word can undergo, depending on its function in the sentence, on the word that precedes it, on any number of reasons (though not, contrary to popular belief, including a deliberate plot to confuse the learner).
The Welsh word for horse is ceffyl. My horse is fy ngheffyl, your horse is dy geffyl, and her horse is ei cheffyl, but you will search in vain for ngheffyl, geffyl and cheffyl in the dictionary — ceffyl is the only form listed. Mutations are very common in Welsh, and despite the increasing tendency for Welsh speakers to forget them, they cannot be ignored, especially when translating written Welsh.
The clue to finding mutated words in the dictionary is knowing one’s mutations in the first place and being able to recognize them when they occur. Only nine letters, all consonants, mutate, and the changes fall into three groups, soft mutation, nasal mutation and aspirate mutation:
Welsh Mutations
Radical Form | Soft | Nasal | Aspirate |
c | g | ngh | ch |
g | – | ng | |
ll | l | | |
From the top row of the chart we see that geffyl is an instance of soft mutation, ngheffyl is nasal mutation, and cheffyl is aspirate mutation, and they all ‘unmutate’ to ceffyl.
The forms in bold type never occur at the beginning of words except as mutations. Thus if you see mhriodas you know that the word has to be priodas and you’ll find it in the dictionary under ‘P.’ The forms in regular type can either be mutated or non-mutated. Thus nant (an example mentioned in the second paragraph of this article) could be the Welsh word for stream, or it could be a mutation of dant, meaing tooth. And dant in turn could mean tooth or it could be a mutation of tant, meaning string. The context will make clear which meaning it is. The forms in italic type can also be mutated or non-mutated, but are almost invariably the former, since relatively few words in Welsh begin with these letters.
Note that all the mutated forms are unique except ‘f’, which results from the soft mutation of both ‘b’ and ‘m.’ Note also that when ‘g’ is subject to soft mutation it is simply dropped, and no evidence of the mutation exists. So if you’ve tried everything else and you still can’t figure out what a word is, stick a ‘g’ at the beginning and see if that does the trick!
One final complication worth mentioning is the phenomenon known as aspiration, whereby an ‘h’ is added at the start of words beginning with a vowel. This occurs, for example, after the possessive pronouns her, our and their. Thus her name is ei henw, but enw is the word you will find in the dictionary.
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Many people with Welsh roots have attended a Gymanfa Ganu (a Welsh hymn singing festival). In this article, Alun Hughes, one of Cymdeithas Madog’s longest serving teachers and frequent contributer on grammatical matters, has a look at gymanfas, cymanfaoedd and all sorts of other strange animals.
"You say tomayto, and I say tomahto, you say potayto and I say potahto." You know the problem. We Welsh have our own version, which goes, "You say gymanfa and I say cymanfa, you say gymanfas and I say cymanfaoedd." It doesn’t scan too well, and it’s more than just a matter of pronunciation, but it’s the same sort of thing.
So which is it, gymanfa or cymanfa? Well the basic word, meaning assembly, congregation, meeting, convocation, etc., is cymanfa — you find it under c, not g, in the dictionary. Often, of course, it’s seen with ganu following, i.e., cymanfa ganu, meaning a singing meeting or songfest. And ganu is really canu, which is also found under c in the dictionary. Okay so far? Good, for the form we see most often of all of course is gymanfa ganu, which you won’t find anywhere in the dictionary. You never see cymanfa canu (well you do, but only when people don’t know better), though you do see cymanfaoedd (the plural) canu. You also sometimes see Cymanfaoedd ganu and even gymanfaoedd ganu, even though you really shouldn’t see either. Still with me? You are? I’m impressed, because I’m lost. Perhaps we should call the whole thing off.
No let’s not, let’s go back to square one, and approach this conundrum (see under c, not g, in the dictionary) the only sensible way — grammatically (see under g — oh never mind…).
The basic word is cymanfa. Nouns in Welsh are either masculine or feminine, and cymanfa is feminine, and that is the root of the problem. If it were masculine there would be no complications — this may sound sexist, but that’s how it is (don’t blame me, I didn’t invent the language). And the complications are all related to those darn mutations, the changes that the initial letters of Welsh words undergo when… well, many learners seem to think it’s when they feel like it. Rules do exist, however, and at the risk of sounding sexist again I have to say that the rules decree that the feminine gender is predisposed to much greater changeability than the masculine (I repeat, I didn’t invent the language — if I had, I would have shared out the mutations 50-50, as any progressive, right-thinking person would have done).
Anyway, the word cymanfa by itself means an assembly (there is no indefinate article in Welsh, so the "an" is understood). To say the assembly we have to use the definite article y. Since cymanfa is feminine, it undergoes soft mutation: the c becomes g, giving y gymanfa.
The same sort of thing happens when we add canu. Adjectives describing feminine nouns also undergo soft mutation, and so we have cymanfa ganu (a songfest) and y gymanfa ganu (the songfest). The songs of course are always hymns (for songfest read hymnfest), but being Welsh that’s taken for granted.
What could be simpler? Well actually the plural is simpler, because though the plural form cymanfaoedd is longer and harder to pronounce, the mutations are absent. So when we add y and canu, that’s all we do, add y and canu, giving y cymanfaoedd, cymanfaoedd canu and y cymanfaoedd canu.
When speaking Welsh, these words are always used according to the rules, i.e., cymanfa to mean an assembly, y gymanfa to mean the assembly, and so on. It’s only when they are transferred to English that inconsistencies arise, but ironically enough these inconsistencies are perfectly logical.
Of the various possible forms (cymanfa, y gymanfa, cymanfaoedd, y cymanfaoedd — with or without the adjective canu), the commonest by far are y gymanfa and y gymanfa ganu. This is because we usually refer to just one of these events at a time (hence the singular), and we usually have a specific one in mind (hence the definite article).
English has no proper equivalent for y gymanfa (at least not in the sense of hymnfest, which is what we usually mean by the word). When we want to say this in English therefore, what could be more natural than to keep the Welsh and simply substitute the for y, giving the gymanfa and the gymanfa ganu. Since we use the g-word so often, gymanfa then becomes the English norm, and it makes perfect sense to go one step further and say a gymanfa ganu. It also makes sense, though it sounds really jarring to Welsh ears, to make the plurals gymanfas and gymanfa ganus. In effect, gymanfa becomes and English word, just like thousands of other loan words before it, and it must therefore obey the rules of English grammar.
Where does all this leave us? Well for one thing perhaps, better able to sleep nights, now that a major mystery has been explained (??). As to which forms should be used when, that’s not so easy. In Welsh it’s straightforward, but in English we have a choice. We can try to be purists and use the proper Welsh forms (awkward though this sometimes is), we can take the easy way out and fall back exclusivelyon the g-words, or we can mix ‘n’ match. There’s no simple answer, but my advice is this: whatever you do be consistent, and never ever use any of the following — gymanfa canu, cymanfa canu, cymanfaoedd ganu, and gymanfaoedd ganu — because they don’t exist in any language.
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Dyma draethawd gan Glenson T. Jones, myfyriwr Cwrs Cymraeg Y Mileniwm yng Nghaerfyrddin. Ar y pryd, yn lefel 1 oedd o. Ond mae’n amlwg ei fod o wedi bod yn gweithio’n galed ar y Gymraeg. Dyma ei stori.
Beth sydd yn ysgogi rhywun i chwilio am eu gwreiddiau? Rhyw deimlad bod rhywbeth wedi cael ei golli? Trio gweld os basa bywyd wedi bod yn wahanol petasai hyn a hyn wedi digwydd, neu ddim wedi digwydd? Neu efallai i’r rhai ohonon ni sydd ddim wedi cael ein magu yng Nghymru yr angen mwy o wybodaeth am ein cefndir. Hiraeth?
Mi ges i fy ngeni yn Abertawe ond des i i Ganada pan oeddwn i’n ddwy flwydd oed. A dyma fi yn Ottawa nawr gyda amser ar fy nwylo a’r teimlad yn gryf fy mod i eisiau gwybod mwy am ddreigiau fy nghyndeidiau. Sut fath o fywyd baswn i wedi cael mewn dinas yng Nghymru? Pa fath o fywyd oedd mewn entref yng Nghymru 100, 200 neu 300 mlynedd yn ôl?
Doeddwn i ddim, mewn gwirionedd, eisiau troi’r cloc yn ôl, dim ond eisiau archwilio fy ochr Gymreig. Yr ochr a oedd bron wedi cael ei anwybyddu am dros drigain mlynedd. Yr iaith, yr hanes, y diwylliant.
Ond sut i wneud hyn? Dwi wedi sylweddoli pellach bod dysgu allan o lyfr yn fy amser sbââr yn wastraff amser. Roeddwn i eisiau rhyw hwb go sydyn, rhywbeth i fy ngosod ar y cledrau cyflym ac i roi fflam i’r gwreichion.
Roeddwn i wedi clywed am gwrs Gymraeg yng Nghaerfyrddin, cwrs un wythnos, yn Awst 2000. Wrth gwrs mi ddysgais beth o Gymraeg ond yn fwy na hynny mi enillais lawer o hunan hyder a chododd fy niddordeb yn yr iaith a’r diwylliant Cymreig. Ar y bedwaredd diwrnod aethon ni i’r farchnad yng Nghaerfyrddin i gyfarfod siopwyr. Dw i’n siwr roedden nhw’n cael eu diddanu gan ein hymdrechion ond roedden nhw’n falch ein bod ni wedi gwneud yr ymdrech. Roedd pawb yn nymunol iawn. Yr wythnos wedyn es i i’r Eisteddfod Genedlaethol yn Llanelli gyda dau ddiwrnod yng Nghaerdydd. Ar y cyfan profiad gwefreiddiol, ond yn flinedig hefyd.
Wrth lwc mae prifysgol Ottawa yn cynnal cwrs Cymraeg sylfaenol a phellach dw i wedi cwblhau y tymor gyntaf ac yn edrych ymlaen at yr ail.
A sut ydw i wedi llwyddo i gyrraedd y safon hyn mor gyflym?
Yr ateb yw fy mod i wedi ymddeol ac wedi gosod ar wahân llawer o oriau i fy astudiaethau. Roedd cwrs y brifysgol yn cynnwys yr ugain gwers gyntaf o hen gyfres ‘Catchphrase’ y BBC ond hefyd mi roeddwn i wedi cael gafael ar gasetiau yn cynnwys dros gant o’r gwersi a phellach dw i wedi gwrando ar dros drigain ohonyn nhw tra mod i’n gyrru o amgylch Ottawa bob dydd. (Mae pobl sydd wedi ymddeol yn ffeindio rhywbeth i wneud a rhywle i fynd yn eu hamser hamdden.)
Mae gen i lawer iawn i ddysgu eto ond fel dw i’n dweud yn aml does na ddim pwrpas heneiddio os na allwch chi ei fwynhau. I ysgrifennu erthygl fel hyn mae’n rhaid i mi ddibynnu ar lawer geiriadur, llyfr gramadeg, llyfr am strwythurau’r ferf a hefyd llyfr ymadroddion Cymraeg i ddysgwyr. Ond pob tro dw i’n gwneud rhywbeth, dw i’n dysgu, ac mae’r tro nesaf yn haws.
Cyn diwedd y flwyddyn dw i’n gobeithio gallu darllen llyfrau i ddysgwyr
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Dyma stori fer am dri ffrind yn edrych am Angau. Mae’r stori yn seiliedig ar hanes o’r bedwaredd ganrif ar ddegau. Cafodd y stori hon ei haddas yn enwedig i ddysgwyr gan Marta Weingartner Diaz. Mae Marta’n athrawes Gymraeg brofiadol ac mae hi wedi dysgu ar lawer o Gyrsiau Cymraeg Cymdeithas Madog dros y blynyddoedd.
Un diwrnod ym Mis Mai, roedd tri dyn ifanc yn eistedd mewn tafarn, yn chwarae cardiau, yfed gwin, a chwerthin am ben Duw a’r Diawl. Roedd y bywyd gwyllt a dreuliodd y tri yn enwog trwy’r dref. Poenai mamau am eu merched, a dymunai pob tad ddiwedd cynnar i’r tri. Ond beth oedd ymateb y tri? Dim ond chwerthin mwy, a dal i yfed.
Y bore hwn, pan oedd y tri’n agor potel arall o win, clywon nhw swn cloch yn y stryd. Wrth edrych trwy’r ffenestr, gwelon dorf o bobl yn cerdded yn araf ar hyd y stryd dan wylio, a phawb mewn gwisg du. Esboniodd y tafarnwr fod Angau wedi cymryd dyn tlawd o’r ardal, yn gadael ei wraig a’i blant ef heb geiniog goch yn y byd. Aeth y tri ffrind yn ôl at eu gwin.
"Mewn gwirionedd," meddai’r cyntaf, "Angau ydy ein gelyn gwaethaf. Mae e’n aros am bawb, ac yn cymryd pob un. Does neb yn dianc."
"Rwyt ti’n iawn," meddai’r ail ffrind, "Fe hoffwn i yfed, dim ond yfed bore a nos, heb ofni i Angau ddod a rhoi diwedd ar fy hwyl. Ond sut gallaf i fod yn hapus, gan wybod bod Angau’n dal i fyw?"
"Myn Duw!" crïodd y trydydd, "Mae’n hollol wir – Angau ydy ein gelyn gwaethaf! Beth am i ni ladd Angau, a dod yn arwyr mawr? Dewch, frodyr, rhowch i mi eich dwylo amdani: awn i chwilio am Angau, ble bynnag y bo, a’i ddal, a’i ladd. Dewch, yfwn wydryn arall, frodyr, ond y tro yma, yfwn i angau Angau! Ac wedyn, awn allan i ddod o hyd iddo fe!"
Brysiodd y tri’n wyllt allan o’r dref i’r wlad. Ymhen awr cwrddon nhw â hen wr gyda barf wen, yn cerdded yn araf ar hyd y ffordd.
"Duw fyddo gyda chi," meddai’r hen wr yn gyfeillgar.
"Ha ha! Duw gyda ni?" chwarddodd un o’r ffrindiau. "Ond dywedwch, hen wr, pam rydych chi yma ar eich pen eich hun fel yna? Rydych chi mor hen – pam dydych chi ddim wedi marw? Rydw i’n meddwl mai chi ydy Angau, sy’n chwilio am bobl."
"O nage," meddai’r hen wr, "Rydw i mor hen achos dyna ewyllys Duw. Fe hoffwn i farw, ond bob tro i mi ofyn i Angau fy nghymryd, mae e’n dweud, ‘Nage, hen wr, dydy dy amser ddim wedi dod eto.’ Ond wnewch chi adael i mi fynd ymlaen, foneddigion?"
"Na wnawn, fy hen wr," meddai’r ail ffrind, "Allai neb fod mor hen â chi. Nid dyn ydych chi, ond gwas Angau."
"Ha!", crïodd y trydydd, "Ffwl ydych chi, os ydych chi’n feddwl ein bod ni’n eich credu chi. Helpwr Angau ydych chi. Ac fe fyddwn ni’n eich lladd chi, os dydych chi ddim yn dweud wrthon ni ble mae eich meister chi."
"Wel, os ydych chi am ddod o hyd i Angau," atebodd yr hen wr yn araf, "ewch ymlaen ar y ffordd yma, nes i chi weld derwen ar yr ochr dde. Dan y dderwen ‘ma Angau’n byw. Duw fyddo gyda chi."
Rhedodd y tri ffrind nerth eu traed nes cyrraedd y dderwen. Ac oedd, roedd rhywbeth yn gorwedd wrth fôn y goeden, ond nid Angau: saith sach fawr, ac ynddynt drysor werthfawr! Cododd calonnau’r tri ffrind wrth weld darnau arian yn disgleirio yn yr heulwen. Anghofion nhw’n llwyr am Angau, a dechrau rhifo’r darnau arian, gan freuddwydio am y bywyd moethus a di-ofal a’u disgwyliodd.
Trafodon nhw beth i wneud gyda’r drysor. Pe tasen nhw’n ei chario hi’n syth yn ôl i’r dref, byddai pobl yn meddwl eu bod nhw wedi dwyn yr arian, a byddai’r tri yn cael eu crogi fel lladron, yn ddiau. Penderfynon nhw fwrw coelbren: byddai rhaid i’r dyn a gollodd fynd yn ôl i’r dafarn a phrynu bwyd a gwin i ginio, a’r ddau arall yn aros a gwarchod y drysor. Wedyn, yn y nos, byddai’r tri ohonyn nhw’n cario’r drysor yn saff yn ôl i’r dref. Bwrwon goelbren ar unwaith. Collodd y ieuaf, a chychwynodd am y dref.
Prin oedd yr ieuaf wedi ymadael, pan ddechreuodd y ddau arall siarad am y drysor.
"Fe fyddwn ni’n cael mwy o arian os ydyn ni’n rhannu’r drysor yn ddwy ran yn lle tair," meddai’r cyntaf.
"Ond sut mae’n bosib? Mae tri ohonon ni," atebodd ei ffrind.
"Y ffwl dwl! Rydw i’n siarad am rannu’r drysor rhyngot ti a fi. Beth am ladd ein ffrind ni pan ddaw yn ôl? Fel yna, byddwn ni’n dau’n gallu byw mewn moethusrwydd."
Cytunodd y llall, ac arhosodd y ddau i’w ffrind ddod yn ôl.
Ar y ffordd i’r dref, roedd y ieuaf yn meddwl rhywbeth tebyg.
"Pam dylwn i rannu’r arian gyda’r ddau arall? Mae’n well ‘da fi gadw’r holl drysor fy hunan."
Yn y dref prynodd gig, bara a thair potel o win. Yna, aeth i siop apothecari, lle prynodd wenwyn "ar gyfer llygod mawr," fel esboniodd wrth yr apothecari. Ar y ffordd allan o’r dref, rhoddodd y gwenwyn i mewn i ddwy o’r poteli, gan guddio’r drydded botel yn ei boced i’w hunan.
Oes rhaid dweud mwy? Pan gyrhaeddodd yr ieuaf y dderwen, rhedodd un o’i ffrindiau i’w gofleidio wrth i’r llall ei frathu gyda chyllell. Wedyn eisteddodd y ddau ar y llawr i ddathlu’r weithred, a bwyta’r bwyd ac yfed a gwin oedd eu ffrind wedi’u cario o’r dref. Cymerodd pob un botel o’r gwin lle roedd Angau yn aros, i yfed i iechyd y llall ac i’r dyddiau hapus i ddod.
Fore trannoeth, disgleiriodd yr haul ar y dderwen, ar y blodau wrth fôn y goeden, ac ar wynebau llwyd y tri ffrind yn gorwedd yn dawel yn y glaswellt.
Mae Angau, pan rydych chi’n chwilio amdano fe, yn hawdd i’w ffeindio.
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Mae Steve Morris wedi dysgu ar sawl Cwrs Cymraeg Cymdeithas Madog dros y blynyddoedd. Athro brofiadol yn Ne Cymru, mae o’n dysgu Cymraeg yn y coleg yn Abertawe. Dyma argraffiadau Steve ar Gwrs Cymraeg Y Mynnyd Glas, Poultney, Vermont. 1996.
Dyma’r tro cyntaf i fi fod yn yr Unol Daleithiau yn fy mywyd! A dyna sioc oedd cyrraedd Efrog Newydd yng ngwres mawr mis Gorffennaf ar ôl hedfan yn syth o Gaerdydd. Sut byddai’r pythefnos nesaf yn America? Pa fath o bobl fyddai ar y cwrs? Oeddwn i wedi paratoi digon o waith iddyn nhw? Wrth lwc, roedd dau o’r tiwtoriaid eraill wedi dysgu ar y Cwrs Cymraeg o’r blaen (Heini ac Emyr yn Atlanta) ac roedd digon o gyngor a help i gael gyda nhw. Truelion ni rai diwrnodau yn yr Afal Mawr cyn teithio ar Amtrak i dalaith hyfryd Vermont a chael ein croesawu gan Mary Ellen Palmer, Meredith Roberts ac eraill yn Green Mountain College, Poultney.
Roedd Vermont mor wahanol i Efrog Newydd ond roedd yn glir i fi yn syth pam oedd cymaint o Gymry wedi synud i’r ardal yn y ganrif ddiwethaf: y llechi, wrth gwrs, ond y wlad brydferth hefyd – y mynyddoedd, y llynnoedd a phopeth sy’n atgoffa rhywun o harddwch Gogledd Cymru. Roeddwn yn teimlo’n gartrefol iawn ymysg y capeli, y baneri a’r enwau Cymraeg yno. Cafwyd croeso twymgalon gan aelodau Cymdeithas Madog ar ôl cyrraedd ond yr un mor wresog oedd croeso trigolion Poultney a’r cylch a’u balchder yn eu gwreiddiau Cymreig.
Bues i’n ffodus iawn – fel tiwtor – gyda’r dosbarth hefyd. 16 o ddysgwyr brwd iawn heb fawr o Gymraeg o gwbl oedd yn gweithio’n galed iawn, iawn trwy’r wythnos. Roedd cysylltiadau Cymreig gyda llawer o’r dosbarth ac eraill yn dysgu oherwydd diddordeb mewn ieithoedd. Mae’n galonogol iawn fod llawer ohonyn nhw yn dal i gysylltu try’r e-bost ac yn dal i ddysgu Cymraeg (gan gwnnwys grwp yn nhalaith Vermont a dyn arall sydd yma yn dysgu yng Nghymru ar hyn o bryd). Gobeithio’n wir y byddan nhw’n dod nôl i gyrsiau Cymraeg Cymdeithas Madog yn y dyfodol. Rhaid peidio ag anghofio chwaith y criw bach ffyddlon o ddawnswyr oedd yn dod i’r sesiynau dawnsio gwerin bob prynhawn: roedden nhw’n sêr go iawn!
Erbyn 1997, beth sy’n aros yn y cof? Well pobl yn bennaf – y dysgwyr oedd wedi gweithio mor galed (yn ystod y dydd – a’r nos!!) ac yn rhoi 100% i bopeth. Roedd eu diddordeb di-derfyn a’r awydd i ddysgu cymaint ag oedd yn bosibl am Gymru a’r Gymraeg mewn wythnos yn ysbrydoliaeth. Mae’n wir dweud fod llawer ohonyn nhw yn dal i ysgrifennu a chysylltu ar ôl y cwrs ac wedi dod yn ffrindiau mawr: gobeithio gweld rhai ohonynt yn ystod 1997. Roedd y grefnwyr hefyd – yn enwedig Loretta a Mel – yn hynod o garedig a chymwynasgar: diolch eto iddyn nhw a phawb arall yng Nghymdeithas Madog am y croeso a chymorth parod a gafwyd. Yn olaf, bydd Vermont ei hunan a’i chysylltiadau â Chymru yn aros yn y cof – roedd dod i wybod am y Cymry aeth i’r rhan honno o’r Unol Daleithiau yn ddiddorol dros ben yn enwedig ar ôl cwrdd â William Williams yn Granville oedd yn dal i siarad Cymraeg (ac wedi’i enwi yn yr Unol Daleithiau!). Mae’r rhan hon o America yn rhan o Loegr Newydd fydd yn Gymru am byth.