23rd
What Part of “No” Don’t You Understand?
One of the great laments of my life is that I only speak English (and more like a version of gibberish at that).
It’s not for a lack of effort. Sort of. I mean, I’ve embarked on many failed attempts at learning a 2nd language.
1) In high school I took 2 years of honors French. I was the only guy in the class with 14 or 15 girls. I don’t remember hardly any French, but I remember some of my classmates – you can figure that one out.
2) In college my minor was Ancient Biblical Languages. I started with Greek and then spent some time in the Middle East where I studied Phoenician, Aramaic, and Hebrew. I’ve lost much of what I learned, but I occasionally poke around in the Hebrew Scriptures and it seems to come back to me.
3) Years ago while living in South India, I studied Tamil. My language tutor was a nice man, Moses Raj with a kind partner that he often referred to as “my fat wife Amala.” He taught me classical Tamil. That wasn’t very helpful. Classical Tamil is very formal and hardly spoken. What was helpful was learning to read and write it, all 273 letters.
In the process of learning Tamil, I was working at a children’s home where I learned simple, basic conversational Tamil. Apparently, learning to speak Tamil by talking with and listening to little kids made my spoken Tamil sound like I was perpetrating “baby-talk.” I didn’t know that was happening. Whenever adults heard me speak Tamil they’d affectionately clasp their hands over their heart, turn their head just slightly, and say something like, “Ohhhhh, I just love listening to you speak, it’s like hearing a little baby try to talk.” That was maybe cute, but not flattering.
My favorite (probably should say, most notorious) Tamil snafu came while having lunch with some of my dearest friends in the world, the Syeds. They took me to meet their grandmother, the exquisite matriarch of their Muslim family. Wearing a distinguished, black robe, she sat on an elevated platform, covered with silk pillows. I approached her and said, “naan unnai nassukkireen,” which I thought meant, “I like you and your family.” What I meant to say was “naan unnai nessikkeeren.” Sort of a big deal, messing up those vowels, because what I actually said translated, “I will destroy (or squash) you.”
4) Phileena and I spent the bulk of 2000 living in Peru. Finally my chance to learn Spanish. I did have a tutor. I didn’t really study. I didn’t even really do my homework. And today, to my embarrassment, I don’t speak Spanish.
It’s frustrating for me. I really do wish I knew another language. In 1992 while in Cairo, an Egyptian man asked me, “If you call someone who speaks 2 languages bilingual, then what do you call someone who speaks only 1 language?” I should have seen it coming. He said, “American.” Yep. Busted.
So in the spirit of solidarity with all multi-lingual illiterate types, I have determined to rewind to the most recent failed language I’ve studied, Spanish. I’ve determined to re-claim Spanish in my every-day conversations.
Just so you’re not confused I’m going to tell you my secret.
I only use the Spanish word for “No.”
Crazy huh?
I’m continually in and out of 2 languages all day long. It’s hard for people to keep up with me, but I have to do it. So don’t be confused if you hear me speaking Spanish throughout the day. Weaving in and out of English isn’t easy, but no one can stop me now.
