ARABIC LESSONS

ARABIC LESSONS

I had been looking around for a place to go for Arabic lessons, but most courses seem to be coming to an end, and some of the places looked so unappetizing that I was leaving them for later in case nothing else more attractive should turn up.  The first school I was taken to happened to be closed at the time, but it looked so grey and drab it was not a place I felt drawn to.  Then I heard that the British Council ran courses but, when I spoke to them on the phone, the course I would probably have to join was between 4.30 and 6.30 in the evening which is just when Robert gets home starving, so that did not seem too promising, and anyway it was very expensive. Next I went to the University.  The building where the classes are held is fairly new but crumbling and dull, and nearly all the girls I met were covered from head to toe.  As I waited for the secretary to come back from her morning break, I managed to get a glimpse of the textbook they were using which was all exercises, and so the impression I got - true or false I don’t know - was of a lot of writing and not much spoken work.  Anyway, we then decided to try the Spanish Cultural  Centre, the Instituto Cervantes.  Robert spoke to the secretary on the phone and she told him that they were hoping to start a new course next week and that one was already running.

I went along with a view to talking to the teacher to see what level she would put me in at.  As the teacher only speaks Arabic, I had to make myself understood at all costs.  I managed.  She asked why I didn’t join the class she was about to give to see whether I thought I could fit in and whether I liked the way she worked.  

The other students arrived: one Italian lady and another Canadian both in their fifties, I suppose, married to Syrian husbands but unable to speak a word, although they did understand some Arabic; another Frenchwoman who was born and spent most of her life in Tunisia before and understood a lot and could speak quite a lot but was taking the course to iron out the differences with Syrian Arabic; a Cuban woman who I think probably works at the embassy; a Spanish girl in her thirties, the reason for whose stay I did not manage to suss out but it would seem to be on account of her husband’s work, and another girl, half Spanish and half Mexican, married to a Syrian but unable to speak and practically unable to understand any Arabic.  They had already had forty hours of lessons and this series of lessons comes to an end next Tuesday.

I found that, with what I already know, I was able to fit in without too much trouble and, apart from the Frenchwoman, I don’t think I am any worse than the rest of the group.  Of course, having dedicated my life to language and communication in one way or another makes it easier, because I can see links and catch on quicker than a lot of other people.  Most of this group have decided to carry on for another month, so I will continue with them and then, after the month, we’ll see what happens, because the two Spanish girls have children and will want to stop their lessons when the school holidays start.

The main thing I realized from this first lesson is that modern spoken Arabic is much less sophisticated and, therefore, less complicated than the classical Arabic I have learned, so the verb structures are much simpler.  Also, some of the vocabulary I know, and which is also used in the Gulf region, is not used here in ordinary everyday conversation when other words are used, although the vocabulary I know is used in formal situations and on TV.  However, I am sure I will manage to get to grips with that.

April 7th 1998