|
|
May 9, 2008
Adding Hebrew to Chinese
Having started learning in Israel, writer continues lessons here.
BORHAN JIANG
I am not linguistic, nor extremely talented when it comes to learning new languages; my French professor would gladly confirm that, having given me a big "F" on my report card. However, I can bubble about politics, army life and girls in Hebrew like a local Tel Aviv boy. Occasionally, I can even get into heated argument with a shuttle bus driver with heavy Ramat Gan-style Mizrachi accent – not that this happens much anymore, now that I've returned to Vancouver.
It might not sound like a big deal, but please understand that the only similarity between my native tongue, Chinese, and Hebrew is that both languages require you to open your mouth to speak. Also, I didn't speak my second language, English, fluently until I was around 18 years old. The friends who trained with me in the army might argue that I still can't speak proper English, and they are still in doubt whether it was me on the radio or if Red China was hotwiring into the Canadian army radio system.
I was in love with the Hebrew language from the first phrase I spoke: "How much?" Quickly, with the second phrase, "Give me a discount," I realized how important it is to be proficient in Hebrew when living in Israel. To my ear, Hebrew is rough, direct and sometimes a little bit rigid. It certainly does not have a soft and romantic tone, as Italian or French, but to me it is full of honesty, precision and emotion. Simple grammatical rules also appeal to me; my Irish Jewish friend Connor and I used to joke that the lack of intransitive verbs – such as am, is and are – made every Israeli sound like Tarzan when they introduced themselves: "Ani Borhan. I Borhan."
A small notebook was my first Hebrew textbook and my teachers were taxi drivers, soldiers, even "Huzban" kids. The streets of Tel Aviv were my first Hebrew school. Later, I joined Sar-El (the Israel Defence Forces volunteer program) and immersed myself in the most Israeli environment ever: the army. Being in Sar-El and living on base improved my language skills greatly; surrounded by young Israeli soldiers in my age group made me want to socialize with them. I found that speaking merely in English to these young soldiers meant an invisible wall in between us. Other than bridging the gap, trying to learn new words was extremely helpful, especially when it came to flirting with girls - sure, the chemistry died down when I understood the phrase, "My boyfriend is a Shayet 13," but, before that, it was fun.
The motivation to learn a new language also depends on native speakers' reactions. I remember trying to learn French at the University of Ottawa. Many French speakers did not have the patience to hear my less comprehensible French and would switch to English during our conversations. It was a slap in the face to me.
Israelis are exactly the opposite; they usually reacted with amazement, joy and excitement. Soon, their amazement subsided and they expected me to understand every single word about their daily life, and that's why I always avoid speaking Hebrew to customs or police.
I ran into many problems in distinguishing Hebrew words with similar sounds, such as neshka (kiss) and neshek (weapon), in the beginning. I did not know the difference and I was extremely puzzled when every Israeli security guard wanted to "kiss me." On some occasions, when I dressed really sloppily and was mistakenly considered a foreign worker, I would speak in my Canadian-accented English to clarify my status.
Near the end of my stay in Israel, I finally got a chance to attend an ulpan for some formal training in Hebrew. For two and half weeks, I attended the school and the ulpan teaching style was unorthodox, fun and intense. My dear teacher, Shlomit, always used the most humorous method to keep everyone interested in the class. With laughter, the countless repetition of words and grammar became fun. However, with my laziness and lack of enthusiastic spirit, my reading and writing skills could hardly keep up. So, even though I'm back in Vancouver, I'm still learning – in classes at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver.
If you were to ask me what were the advantages of knowing how to speak Hebrew, I would have to say many things. Best of all was the ability to fit into Israeli culture and to no longer feel like a stranger in a strange land, but an Israeli boy living his life in Ramat Gan.
Borhan Jiang is a Vancouver freelance writer.
^TOP
|
|
