How much Arabic can a good-intentioned, but linguistically challenged, British expat learn in just over four weeks?
If I knew the answer to that one, I would at least be able to offer my poor, tired brain some encouragement.
My intensive Arabic course is made up of two-hour lessons each morning, five days a week for just over four weeks. My grey matter hasn’t been made to work this hard since I left school 15 years ago.
So far I feel like I have learned a thousand words, but just a handful of phrases. Nouns are pretty useless without the ability to string them together. What I can tell you is my name is Jamie, I am from England, I am in Dubai now, and that the city is not the capital of the UAE.
I can also tell you the train is kept in the station, not the airport, and that Mr Baker — whoever he is — has a big car and a pretty wife (isn’t that always the way?).
To this point, I have shied away from seeking out practice time with Arabic-speaking colleagues. Even after five lessons, I still feel the colour drain out of me when I make a mistake in front of the small class.
Arabic has little in common with the only language I know. The Arabic lamguage has 28 letters as compared to 26 in English, which, unfortunately for me, is not A to Z plus two others. No, Arabic letters represent sounds that, in some cases, simply do not exist in my mother tongue, including guttural, throaty consonants and long, almost exaggerated vowels.
I won’t lie, learning Arabic is hard. It’s just as difficult as I feared. Classes are taught at a frantic pace; in my group of three is a girl who previously studied Arabic for three years, the wife of an Arab, and me, a man who just a week ago could say Shukran and little else. But despite my disadvantage, learning at breakneck speed is essential to make the most of our limited time, even if late-night studying and 9am class starts may mean I have to prop open my eyelids with matchsticks when I clock in at Gulf News after class.
What has surprised me is how simple Arabic is so far — not simple to learn, but logical — and beautifully constructed, poetic. At first, this challenge appealed to the journalist in me; I was keen to challenge myself and document my progress. But now, I am hooked on the learning process itself.
While the chance to say the phrases above in conversation may be unlikely to arise any time soon, answering my course teacher’s Arabic questions in Arabic, without peeking at my exercise book, is proving both thrilling and addictive. The hard work is rewarding and the results are worth the effort (so far, anyway). Now come on, brain, we have work to do.
