When Flan is Not a Dessert
I have known Ilene for a few years now. We met through the ISTE Global Collaboration PLN, and she continues to impress me. I love this post she wrote because it demonstrates all the things I haven’t been in my life abroad, and I respect her so much for it. Her motivated curiosity is something we should all aspire to have. A big thank you to Ilene for showing us all that it’s possible to learn a language despite the struggles.
A note from Ilene:
I have lived in Kuwait for the past thirty-five years; more than half my life. My experience has been filled with an appreciation for the history and culture of the country and region. Unfortunately, I have met foreigners who moved here but never acclimated and finally left for their home countries or other adventures overseas. In order to assist them with their transition, I began presenting an orientation to new teachers at the beginning of each year entitled, “You won’t understand Kuwait now until you learn about Kuwait’s history.” Teachers are fascinated that life is so different in 2019 than 50 or 60 years ago. This post isn’t about Kuwait’s history; it’s about how I came to love my adopted home.
I only knew two words in Arabic when I arrived in Kuwait in 1984...Salam aleykum (a typical greeting) and shlonich (colloquial Kuwaiti for “how are you?”). They had gotten me through phone conversations with my mother in law (who usually answered the phone) when I called from America to speak to my husband to be, Mohsen. The conversation was usually very short and went like this: Salam aleykum. Shlonich. Umm, Mohsen there? And her reply would be: Mohsen, teleefone.
The first two years all I heard was a lot of garbled speech interspersed with words that were repeated. When I had the chance, I asked someone what the repeated words meant. But this process was too slow, so I made a deal with my husband’s nieces to exchange help in English for lessons in Kuwaiti Arabic.
Initially, I visited the girls 2-3 times per week. They created lessons around a theme. I wrote down all of the words related to the theme. One day it was everything about the kitchen (djidur, gefsheh, sahan) and the next time it was parts of the body (cheshem, ras, ayun). It was just like school-they quizzed me before I was allowed to move onto the next lesson.
“I was a motivated student, so I used what I learned whenever I could.”
One place was while shopping. I recall an early trip to the Nugra mall (once upon a time it was quite popular). Most of the Lebanese and Syrian shopkeepers spoke English, but I wanted to use my newfound language skills. You must remember I was learning to speak the Kuwaiti dialect.
A typical exchange was…
Me: “Salam aleykum”
Shopkeeper: “Wa aleykum alsalam”
Me: “Chem hadha?”
Shopkeeper: “Chamsa dinar”
Me: “Fee lone thani?”
Shopkeeper: “Na’am. Fee ezreg wa benesfije.”
Me: Can you speak English?
Shopkeeper: “Lay? Anta mu arabiya?”
Me: No, I am from America. My husband is Kuwaiti.
Shopkeeper: “Because you look Lebanese and I confused because you speaking Kuwaiti.”
I think you get the picture.
There were obstacles in my quest for fluency. My husband, Mohsen, was not used to me speaking in Arabic, so when I tried out phrases on him, he usually got to a point where he would tell me to repeat what I said in English. But I was adamant and told him that I had just said the same thing to someone else and they understood me perfectly. I would then repeat what I had just said IN ARABIC and left it up to him to understand or not. Finally, I had one more thing to accomplish. I understood Kuwaiti and Gulf Arabs, but was less comfortable with the Levant Arabic of Lebanese, Palestinians, and Syrians, and even far less comfortable with the Egyptian dialect. But I even found a way to solve that problem. My mother in law and I use to watch 1940s black and white Egyptian movies on Fridays. She became quite animated and used hand gestures and Kuwaiti words (she spoke no English) to help me understand what was happening. Gradually, I figured out some of the slang and also the pronunciation. The best part was the two of us sitting in her living room and enjoying the movie together.
Eventually, I got busy with life; raising my children and organizing a new house, but I continued to immerse myself in the history and culture of Kuwait, and I passed on my love for both to my children. My experience living here has been so much richer and fulfilling because of my yearning to communicate with my Kuwaiti relatives and especially with my mother-in-law.
Oh, and by the way, Flan-well in my story it isn’t a dessert they serve in Spain. It is someone you want to speak about who shall remain “nameless”.
Learning about another culture by studying its language and history is the basis for a deep appreciation of one’s own culture and history. It enhances our lives and strengthens our ability to understand one another which leads us to care for each other. We must embrace others in order to love ourselves.
