When I catch up with friends from back home, one of the questions that I’m most frequently asked is “How’s your Arabic?”
Well, it sucks.
I took a 4-week crash course when I first arrived, but only half of what I’ve learned has stayed with me these last nine months, and I just haven’t made the time to progress in the language. I know my alphabet and around 150 vocabulary words, which just barely equip me for social survival at shops, on buses, and in the most basic of conversations. But that’s it.
So, while I’m still a beginner (and will almost certainly remain one), I’ve been around the language long enough to make some observations and form some opinions.
On a purely surface level, I’m struck by the beauty of the language.
There are times when it reminds me of French, other times when it reminds me of German, and still other times when it sounds utterly exotic. Like French, Arabic has a lot of elongated vowels and consonants, which are especially nice when spoken softly and romantically. On the other hand, like German, Arabic has several guttural sounds, which are especially nice when spoken loudly and angrily. So, whatever their temperament, Arabs always sound cool to me.
On a deeper level, however, certain features of the Arabic language seem to reveal certain features of Arab cultures.
Of course, we must be wary of generalizations and simplifications, and of course, this approach has its limitations. Even so, the fact remains that languages/dialects reflect, and thus illuminate, aspects of the people groups who speak them.
There are infinitely many illustrations, but here’s one that’s coming to my mind right now: in American English (dunno about those Brits), numerous expressions about time consist of monetary terms: we spend time, we save time, we invest time (usually in relationships, ironically). This observation indicates some sort of connection between time and money as regards our conceptions, values, and/or actions. We would be hard pressed to find many corresponding expressions in the tribal tongues of the Developing World.
So then, what might the Arab language teach us about Arab peoples?
Even an elementary student of Arabic will observe the pervasiveness and centrality of God in Arabic discourse.
A very common response to the question kiffak (How are you?) is alhamdulillah -- praise be to God.
A common expression of happiness, often spoken after hearing exciting news, is ma shah allah (abbreviated mah shallah) -- whatever God wills.
In situations when English speakers say “hopefully,” Arabic speakers say inshah allah (abbreviated inshallah) -- if God wills.
And actually, Arabic speakers will also say inshallah in situations when English speakers would typically say “I hope so” or “I’d like that.” Don’t miss the beauty and the theological richness: to use the word in this way is to implicitly assert that what a person wants and what God wills should be the same thing.
In addition to language of God, language of peace permeates Arabic discourse.
There are quite a few common phrases that include the word salahm or one of its variants. Many of us are already familiar with salahm alaykum -- Peace be upon you [all].
It’s worth noting that many if not most Arab Christians do not use this particular phrase because of its association with the wider Muslim community. Even so, Arab Christians probably say salahm more often than we say “peace.”
...which reminds me that, from what I’ve learned, the vast majority of Arab churches profess pacifistic faith convictions.
They don’t just say it more often.
Alhamdulillah.
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