On The Bright Side Of Minor Failures

"If you don't know how to pronounce a word, say it loud!" - William Strunk, Jr

In my sophomore year at Wheaton, my International Relations Theory professor, David Lumsdaine, always stressed this quote. “Because," he said, “'truth arises more readily from error than from confusion.'” (This time he was quoting Francis Bacon).

Oh, how true. And I think Strunk’s words are particularly applicable when learning a new language.

There are certain words in darija that I hate. There are combinations of letters that are difficult for me to say, or sometimes there are words in which I tend to invert the letters and say something completely different. These words stress me out, so I usually cheat. I find a synonym or use the fusha word and I don’t have to worry about it.

But, of course, this is no way to learn a language. Yesterday I decided that I’d really try to embrace the words I hate.

The darija phrase for “goodnight” (tsbah ala khaiyr) gives me trouble. I hate that H at the end of tsbah. Typically I’d work around it with other phrases: layla sa’ida (in Fusha), ahlam halwa (sweet dreams), etc.

But last night I decided to practice. Soukaina and I said goodnight to each other about a thousand times...

Me: Tsabhi ala khaiyr! (Goodnight!...the vowels change when speaking to a female, FYI)
Souks: Heta anti! Tsabhi ala khaiyr! (You too! Goodnight)
Me: Heta anti! Tsabhi ala khaiyr! (You too! Goodnight!)
Souks: Heta anti! Tsabhi ala khaiyr! (You too! Goodnight!)

An on we went. Thanks to my silliness with Souks I’m feeling good about “goodnight.”

This morning, however, my new resolution to “say it loud” didn’t go quite so smoothly.

On my break between classes I was at Cafe Jawhara (more fondly known as JJ’S), grabbing a quick breakfast and doing homework. I didn’t know what a word meant, so I asked one of the waiters, and he told me in fusha. A few minutes later the other waiter, KAMAL DIYAL JJ'S came by. Kamal was one of the first people I met in Fez last time, and he’s watched my linguistic transformation from miming everything, to using scattered Arabic words here and there, to being fully conversational in Fusha.

When the other waiter told Kamal that he helped me with a word, Kamal was amused that I’m starting over with a new language and asking lots of questions like old times. So he laughed.

At that point I decided to use another one of my dreaded words: dhak....the verb "to laugh." The conjugation is easy in fusha but killer in darija. I wanted to say to Kamal, “alash ktdahik alaya??” (why are you laughing at me??) But with so many consonants in a row I couldn't help but get tongue-tied.

I ended up basically saying, “Why are you l-l-l-laughing at me?”

So of course he laughed more and more. My face turned like a tomato, so I buried it in my hands and said, “ba’d minni!” – “Leave me alone!!”

He kept laughing as he walked away. A few minutes later he was back, looking over my shoulder as I wrote. I gave him my “be careful” look, and he said, “Ma kndhaksh!” – “I’m not laughing!”

But he still had a huge grin on his face. He was laughing on the inside, and I knew it.

But I suppose there's a bright side to all of this. People seem to really enjoy teasing me whenever I fail miserably at pronouncing something. They find something endearing about the fact that I can't pronounce words with 17 consonants in a row.

I guess I'm adorable.