Labas? Ca va? Que tal?

One of my main concerns before we moved to Morocco was figuring out which language I would speak. Darija, a dialect of Arabic that is specific to Morocco is the main, spoken language here, Modern Standard Arabic is the main written language and French is the second language, a holdover from colonialism that is still taught in schools. But then there’s also the many dialects of Tamazight, the original language of Morocco. A few years ago the king declared Tamazight an official language of Morocco, and for a while it was taught in schools, too. Most people seem to think this is a really good thing. However, it’s not that simple. It’s a difficult language to teach and, as a friend pointed out to me, with so many different dialects stemming from so many different tribes, how do you choose just one?

One challenge of Darija is that it’s not a written language. People do write it, when sending emails or text messages, but it’s not written or learned in schools and books written only in Darija don’t seem to exist. So students in Moroccan schools learn Arabic and French and, when they’re older, have the choice of learning English.

Being multi-lingual means you can write desk graffiti in multiple ways.

All of this makes it easier to see why, when we asked people which language would be most useful for us to learn before coming to Tangier the answers were so confusing and varied. Some people said Spanish would work, others said English would probably be okay. The guidebooks all said French would be spoken everywhere, but in Tangier people (especially young people) seem to prefer Spanish, citing the fact that French is “old-fashioned” and too closely linked with the colonialism. With all these language choices we weren’t really sure what to do to prepare. Elliot speaks French, so we figured we wouldn’t be totally clueless. I did my part by downloading a fairly rudimentary Darija app onto my phone (one of the only resources which seems to exist) and panicking. 

Languages are a little bit of a sore spot for me. I’ve always wondered at the fact that the American education system doesn’t seem to give languages the weight of other subjects in school. It seems like we have a bad habit of assuming everyone not only speaks English but wants to speak English with us. A certain, particularly distasteful bumper sticker that I once saw comes to mind: “If you don’t speak English, get out of America.” It’s an ego-centric but also sort of bizarre sentiment that I think reflects the worst parts of American society.  

Moroccans are understandably proud of the fact that they speak so many languages, and seem somewhat baffled as to why we don’t do the same. As one friend put it recently, “We understand everyone’s language, but nobody understands ours.”

The Cervantes Institute of Tangier 

This was made somewhat painfully clear in my Spanish class a couple of weeks ago. The class is through the Cervantes Institute, a Spanish organization and one of the many language centers available in Tangier. I was somewhat conflicted about taking a Spanish class here, but Darija classes are hard to come by and even Moroccans say it’s hardly worth trying if you are only in the country for a few months. Plus, I’ve always wanted to learn Spanish (even if my weak high school attempts indicate otherwise) and this seemed like the perfect time to do it. It has been amazing, a definite highlight of being here, but it’s humbling, too. My teacher doesn’t speak any English so it’s sink or swim, and confusions abound. Just last week I told my class that family is not important to Americans. Meanwhile, Elliot was across town, announcing to his French class he was profoundly insane.

I’ve learned more Spanish in the last few months than I did in a year of high school (I guess I don’t spend so much time doodling and passing secret notes) and have really enjoyed getting to know some of my classmates. One of the questions we recently learned to ask was: “What languages do you speak,” a question which, in and of itself, is very Moroccan. The teacher prefaced the lesson by saying that Moroccans are particularly gifted in languages, that they speak more languages than, say the Spaniards, who only speak Spanish, The French who only speak French, and the AMERICANS, who ONLY speak English. I was trying to come up with the words to explain that while yes, we might not speak as many languages as people do in Morocco, there are many languages spoken in the US. Then she turned to me:

“Kate. Que lenguas hablas?”

When I answered, in bad Spanish, that I spoke English and Swedish, she crossed her arms, momentarily horrified.

“TU? Tu, hablar SUECA?” she said in disbelief.

But my triumphant moment was shortlived, and her point was proven when she turned to my friend Hafssa, a polyglot who speaks Ingles, Francais, Arabe dialect, Arabe, and Turko.  

Point proven, Senora. 

I learned to write my name from a 13-year old who speaks four languages.

The multi-language situation can be, inevitably, difficult. We never really know what to say to people. We try Darija, but it is almost always the case that whoever we are speaking to speaks a language we speak better than we speak Darija.  And they don’t know what to make of us, either. People address us in a variety of languages: French, Spanish, Italian, German and English, sometimes in the same day. But they never seem to be grumpy about doing so. In fact, when we hobble through Darija people get really excited, throwing out new words and helping us along. People here seem to genuinely enjoy learning and speaking new languages. When I have coffee with Hafssa and her friends they often speak four different languages: Darija, French, English and Spanish, sometimes within a single sentence, just because they think it’s fun.

You don't have to speak the language to know what's going on here. 

We’ve received multiple offers from people who say that if we left Cecily with them for just a month they’d teach her Arabic. Obviously, we are planning on taking them up on this offer while we are maxin’ and relaxin’ at the beach. But recently it crossed my mind that they might actually be concerned for Cecily’s monolingual future. A friend recently asked us if we would encourage Cecily to speak another language. Obviously, we said we would. We mentioned the dual immersion programs and the fact that we felt it was crucial for the next generation to speak Spanish. But in American society the odds that she will become fluent in a second language are actually against her. It’s too bad. Moroccans seem to have figured out what we haven’t—that each new language offers new opportunities for both professional and personal growth. But more importantly, it seems to me that the fact that people here seem so welcoming and tolerant of foreigners has to do with the fact that they are able to communicate with people who come from so many different places. Maybe it’s harder to pass judgment on someone when you can understand what they’re saying. During this time of border patrolling and immigrant reforming and general miscommunication, it seems like something we should learn from.