Our Words Already Exist: What Yazidis Can Say Instead

Apparently, once I tell Yazidis to stop saying inshallah, the obvious question arrives.

Fine. What should we say instead?

It is a fair question. A language cannot survive on crossed-out words alone.

The good news is that our mouths do not become empty the moment we stop reaching for Islamic expressions. Our own words already exist. We have simply become too accustomed to reaching for somebody else’s first.

This article continues the argument made in Yazidis, Stop Saying “Inshallah”. This time, the focus is practical: what can Yazidis actually say instead?

When You Mean “With God’s Permission”

Be destûra Xwedê means “With God’s permission.” This is what we say in situations where many people automatically use inshallah. It is not a word-for-word translation. It expresses the same everyday function in our own way.

The phrase fits ordinary plans whose outcome is not entirely in our hands.

“Will you come tomorrow?”
“Be destûra Xwedê.”

“Will you visit Lalish next year?”
“Be destûra Xwedê.”

Nothing is missing from those answers. They express hope, uncertainty and trust without borrowing an Islamic formula to do the work.

When You Mean “Thank God”

Mala Xwedê awa is what we say when others would say “Thank God” or alhamdulillah.

Use it when something has gone well, when somebody has recovered or when relief finally arrives after a difficult period.

“The medical results were good.”
“Mala Xwedê awa.”

“Everyone arrived safely.”
“Mala Xwedê awa.”

It is direct, clear and already ours.

When You Call on God

Ya Xwedê û Tawûs-î-Melek means “O God and Tawûs-î-Melek.” It is our direct invocation, whether spoken in prayer, fear, grief, shock or exhaustion.

Not every cry needs to begin with Allah. Our own invocation is already there.

“Ya Xwedê û Tawûs-î-Melek.”

The meaning comes from the moment: a plea, a sigh, a call for strength or simply the instinct to turn towards God.

When You Begin With Sacred Permission

Be destûra Xwedê û Tawûs-î-Melek means “With the permission of God and Tawûs-î-Melek.”

This is not merely another way to say inshallah. It is more deliberate. It can be used when beginning a journey, an important task or a step that carries spiritual weight.

“Be destûra Xwedê û Tawûs-î-Melek, we begin.”

The phrase does not hide where it comes from. That is precisely its strength.

What About “Mashallah”?

This is where people usually demand a perfect one-word replacement, as though every language were a vending machine.

It is not.

Mashallah can express admiration, gratitude, blessing or a wish for protection. The right Êzdikî response therefore depends on what you actually mean.

If you want to wish protection directly, you can say either:

Xwedê te biparêze.
Xwedê te bihêle.
May God protect you.

If you are admiring a child, a home, a wedding or somebody’s achievement, you can also simply name what you see. Say that the child is beautiful. Say that the work is impressive. Say that you are happy for them.

Apparently, compliments can survive without a compulsory religious password.

Words Live by Being Used

People often speak about preserving a language as though preservation happens in archives, conference halls and carefully designed cultural projects.

Those things matter. But language survives in kitchens, cars, family calls and the ten-second conversations nobody records.

A child learns Be destûra Xwedê because somebody says it before tomorrow’s plan. A teenager remembers Mala Xwedê awa because an older relative says it after good news. A phrase remains alive because it is useful, repeated and heard.

We do not need to wait for a committee to return our own words to us.

Variation Is Not Failure

Yazidi speech is not identical in every village, family or country. Pronunciation, wording and spelling can vary across regions and generations. That is normal for an orally transmitted tradition.

This list is therefore not a new language police. It is a practical starting point.

If your family uses another genuinely Yazidi expression for the same situation, preserve it. Write it down. Teach it. Add to the vocabulary instead of reducing everything to the expressions of the majority around us.

Our Words Are Not Missing

The point is not to create a purity test at breakfast. It is to remember that Êzdikî already gives us ways to hope, thank, call out, bless and begin.

Use them. Teach them. Let children hear them.

A community does not lose its language in one dramatic scene. It loses it one convenient word at a time.

Our words already exist.

We should start reaching for them again.