Cuneiform 102 · Chapter 06
Warm-up · 6 quick retrievals from earlier chapters
Names that are sentences
The last chapter closed with a dedication formula assembled from your own inventory. This one opens with something stranger and more personal: the discovery that the people on these tablets — the farmers, overseers, and scribes of the receipts — carry names that are complete little sentences, built from signs you already own. First, the batch that makes it possible.
Batch seven
| Sign | Name | Key | Reads | Means | Notes |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 𒋗 | ŠU | hand | [šu] | hand | an honest picture — forearm and fingers |
| 𒈠 | MA | workhorse | [ma] | [ma] | a spelling workhorse with no picture-story |
| 𒅆 | IGI | eye | [igi] | eye; face; before | an eye on its side — the witness word, below |
Write each five times, saying šu, ma, igi aloud. Two of the three are pictures that survived the wedge; MA is the other kind of sign — pure sound, no story — and knowing which kind you are holding is by now an old habit.
Grammar bite — a name is a sentence
Sumerian parents did not pick names from a list of name-words. They composed them — a wish, a thanks, a boast, folded into a phrase and handed to a child. The name lists of the earliest school tablets are, sign for sign, made of the same grammar this course has been teaching: possession, cases, the verb at the end. Which means every name below is a one-line reading exercise.
Start with one you could have read five chapters ago:
urn:nabu:cdli:p010064:reverse:3:6 · license:
attribution. Name translations are approximate by nature.
Three signs, three words: lugal the king, gal “great,” zu the knowing — and the gloss’s two readings differ only in how they wire them: is the king the one who knows greatness, or the great one who knows you? Names compress harder than sentences, and editors keep both wirings open. Either way, a subject, a verb — a sentence someone answered to. Now the new batch goes to work on two more, from the same genre of tablets:
urn:nabu:cdli:p020150:obverse:2:4 and
urn:nabu:cdli:p020139:reverse:1:1 · license:
attribution.
Ur- plus a god’s name — “servant (literally: dog, loyal as one) of DN” — is one of the most common name shapes in the language: you met the god Dumuzi’s servants and king Ur-Nammu’s namesakes without knowing it. MA doubles itself into the goddess’s name. And en-šu compresses further than editors can confidently unfold — the translation stays honest about that.
The eye that makes it legal
Why teach 𒅆 in a chapter about names? Because on the receipts, a name’s most frequent job is not to boast or to pray — it is to witness. Sumerian contracts close with a list of people introduced, each one, by the eye:
“Before the eye of So-and-so”: the witness’s presence is the legal act, and the scribes wrote it with the body part that did the work. When a case tag joins on, you can read that too — from the same Šuruppak archives:
urn:nabu:cdli:p020005:reverse:4:6 · license:
attribution.
One more thing MA can do
A last reading, two signs, and a word you already use in English — because it never stopped being used:
urn:nabu:cdli:p010743:obverse:3:1 · license:
attribution.
Silver by the mina, barley by the gur: with 101’s 𒄥 and this chapter’s 𒈠𒈾 you now hold both pans of the Sumerian economy’s scale.
Drill before you go on
- Write 𒋗, 𒈠, 𒅆 from memory; say šu, ma, igi.
- Read all five readings above cold, covering translit and gloss.
- Compose, in transliteration only, a witness line introducing ur-ma-ma: igi + the name. Then write it in signs — every sign is yours.
- Explain in one sentence why a Sumerian name can be read at all — what is it made of?
Next: the little word that lets a king say “I am” — and the palace-sized vocabulary that follows it.
Read it cold
This chapter's last reading, once more — script only. Read it aloud before you unfold.
Check yourself
urn:nabu:cdli:p010743:obverse:3:1 · license:
attribution.