Sicilian linguistic features

In Sicilian one says “accattari un picciriddu”: literally, “to buy a child”.

An expression that, to modern ears, may sound amusing or disorienting.
Yet behind those seemingly improper words lies a precise linguistic history and an ancient way of understanding birth.

The verb “accattari” did not originally mean “to buy”.

In older language and in popular speech it primarily indicated the act of obtaining, receiving, procuring, taking for oneself.
Its root is Latin: “ad captare”, meaning to grasp, to welcome, to make one’s own.
In this sense, “accattari un picciriddu” meant to receive a child, to welcome one into one’s life and family. Not to purchase a child, but to have one.
Birth, in fact, was not experienced as a technical or administrative event, but as a gift. Something that arrives. Something that is received. A mother did not “produce” a child: she welcomed one.
Language, as often happens, reflected this view.

Over time, the dominant meaning of “accattari” shifted towards “to buy”, but the expression remained, especially in everyday speech, and everyone still understands it when children are involved.

Even if, for those who hear it as children or for the first time, it can lead to some confusion.

Some remember asking their grandmother whether children were really bought, and receiving a perfectly serious answer: “Of course. At the supermarket.”
For a while, that explanation made complete sense. While friends spoke of storks or babies found under cabbages, someone was convinced that it was simply a matter of knowing the right department.

Others recall hearing a sentence: “Aunt Maria accattau un picciriddu.” (literally, “Aunt Maria bought a child”) And the immediate, inevitable question: “And how much did it cost?” Because when words are taken literally, logic does what logic does.

Today, on closer inspection, the idea of a cost sounds almost relevant again.

Between medical visits, ultrasounds, blood tests, continuous check-ups, gynaecologists, baby clothes and countless other expenses, “accattari” a child has indeed become an expensive journey. Not out of cynicism, but as a simple observation.
Once, a single midwife, a few visits and a great deal of passed-down experience were enough. Today the path is safer, but also more demanding.

Some people even recall hearing this expression for the first time outside a hospital. “Unni si ccattunu i picciriddi?” (literally: “where are children bought?”) Without context, the question can sound as if someone were asking about human trafficking. Fortunately, there is often a mother or a grandmother ready to translate not only the words, but the world behind them.

Some also suggest an influence from the French “accoucher”, to give birth. It is possible. Languages have been speaking to one another for centuries, especially in Sicily. But even without seeking an external origin, the expression stands on its own, because it is consistent with a deeper idea: a child is not manufactured and not owned. A child is received. Welcomed. Taken into one’s life.

And perhaps this is why “accattari un picciriddu” continues to live on.
Because behind its unintentional irony, it preserves an ancient respect for what truly matters.