Assalamu alaikum! I study Arabic, because I see the way the letters dance freely and when I hear the Adhan, the Islamic call to prayer, my heart moves. Arabic speakers are so passionate. Arabic is the language of poetry and calligraphy.
I am told each letter in the Qur’an deserves its due. What is this language where the letters have rights? I speak English and I hear many injustices, but I listen for intent and try to move forward with patience in agreement.
I learned the word for neighbor in Arabic: jar. I read it in a book about classical Arabic. I practiced speaking Arabic with my neighbor in the elevator of my apartment building. I said, “Salaam, jar.” He said, “Jari, my neighbor.” I try not to be possessive, but if you insist.
So, now I learned how to decline a noun and make it possessive in Arabic. Add the suffix -i. I’m grateful for the lesson. What I’m more grateful for is that he did not question my intelligence. Try speaking Amharic with an Ethiopian. It’s painful. The way Ethiopians laugh comes from an air of superiority. This is how Ethiopians lost the empire – the belief in inherent superiority. There is beauty in equality before the law.
Language has rules (i.e., governing principles), but the important part is the spirit of the law, not the letter. Ethiopians shake uncontrollably, downright convulse with laughter when they hear a single misstep in your speech and curse your mother’s womb for carrying you nine months without your mastering Amharic grammar.
Ethiopians laugh at not with. They constantly compete and exhibit excessive pride, which is a major sin. Why all the judgment in the Ethiopian community? Its source is in our insecurity. Ethiopians once ruled a vast land mass. Now Ethiopia is landlocked. Goodbye Somalia. Goodbye Eritrea. They took with them the coast. Ethiopia is landlocked. It hurts us the most. Our issue is not just political or economic, but spiritual and psychological. Ethiopians look for ways to rely on hierarchy whether at work or in terms of family dynamic. Ethiopians insist on infusing even the most painful situations with laughter, like rubbing salt on a wound.
The language we speak conveys a message not necessarily an IQ. I hope Ethiopians rise up and become teachers – educators who lead people to a greater understanding of themselves, others, their surroundings, and a vast array of subjects. As it stands today, I am a stranger in the Ethiopian community who searches for random opportunities to learn Amharic and who desires to become more knowledgeable about Ethiopian studies.
Teach me. I’m here ready. And when the student is ready, the teacher appears. Try not to laugh or doubt my intelligence when I speak Amharic. We have a long way ahead of us. As the African proverb says, if you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together. We’re in this together! Bring Ethiopia to life. Right now we are an ethnic museum as they say with lonely cultural artifacts representing us, re-presenting us.
Let us live waking dreams. What I can say in English, I can’t fully translate to Amharic, but it doesn’t mean that that truth doesn’t live inside me. The truth is within me and you. It’s just a matter of bringing lived experience to light. So whatever I learn, I share. I have Arabic speaking neighbors, but Amharic speaking family members. So, as intoxicating as it is to learn a new language, I’m sad that I can’t describe my parents in their own words. My parents speak Amharic and Orominya. They tell stories in their native languages. How I wish I understood them at family gatherings. So much is lost in translation over the course of generations. At least I can say, I tried.
Mokerku (I tried).
I tried studying Amharic in college and after graduation at the Ethiopian Community Center. I won’t give up. As they say in Latin, aut viam in veniam aut faciam. Either I will find a way or I will make one. I learned that from Virgil. May these words inspire you!
- Yerusalem Work
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