Night 7 — On the Sorrow of Not Knowing Arabic
The opportunities I’ve had to practice Arabic over the past two days have left me feeling dissapointed with myself. Unlike my first couple of days, when my time was occupied with tourist activities (visiting the pyramids, Bedouin Night, and a Nile Cruise), more recent days have brought more opportunities to interact with Egyptians.
On Tuesday, I walked with a friend through Downtown and Islamic Cairo from Tahrir Square (the city center) to Khan el Khalili, Cairo’s oldest bazaar, and spent several hours eating and window shopping with friends in Khan. On Wednesday, I walked around Zamalek and to the El Sawa Cultural Wheel to hear a poetry reading.
This experience produced my first feelings of embarassment and shame for studying in Egypt with virtually no knowledge of Arabic. My friend — who also knows no Arabic — wanted to buy some fabric at the extensive fabric district in Islamic Cairo and the cordial workers and children asked me questions in Arabic that I couldn’t respond to with more than a blank stare. In Khan el Khalili, I was able to ask the owner “how much is it” (bi khem da), but couldn’t understand his answer (45 pounds) because I only know 1-19 in Arabic. While walking alone in Zamalek, two people approached me with questions in Arabic, and I only had the presence of mind to tell one of the individuals that I didn’t understand what he was saying (mishfahim) — the other time, I walked away before remembering how to respond. I wasn’t able to apologize for my unhelpfulness because I didn’t even know how to say “I’m sorry” in Arabic (ehsef) until I asked my professor during today’s survival arabic course.
My dark appearance has been both a blessing and a curse. Locals and study-abroad students alike think that I look a fair-skinned Egyptian (in fact, a fellow study abroad student couldn’t believe that I didn’t have any Arab ancestry). Thus, especially when I’m alone, people usually address me on the street in Arabic, even in Zamalek where most passer-byes know English (and indeed, end up speaking it with me). My physical ability to blend in makes me more actuely aware of the extent of my language deficiency.
Traveling to, and especially studying in, a foreign country with no knowledge of the language necesitates a certain degree arrogance and sense of entitlement. I realize the dominant-submissive relationship in my own travels (where I expect people in another country to cater to my needs — in this case, linguistic needs — even though I am the visitor in their home) has been replicated many times over between Western and Arab peoples in political, social, and cultural spheres. Such privledged expectations have produced a backlash amongst Arabs (who understandably do not always wish to serve others in an asymetrical relationship), and are in part responsible for the profileration of anti-Western sentiment and jihadi groups in the region. It is upsetting to realize I am part of this vicious cycle.
This arrogance is accompanied by ignorance. Teenage and adult Egyptian men are able to converse in English with myself and other tourists: they extoll the virtues of America (“Obama, Obama,” “Yankee Doodle,” or “#1″ are the most common resplied by Egyptians when told that you’re from America) — albeit the ones who express such opinions are trying to sell you stuff; drive a hard bargian (they are none too shy to ask for baksheesh – tips); and flirt with American women (female study abroad peers have been told “I’d kill my wife my you,” ”I’ll make you my Sunday\Monday wife,” and “you look like Beyone.”) And although virtually all of these people have received less formal education than myself and many are younger than I, they have a far better command of my language than I have of theirs. This dynamic makes me feel guilty that I haven’t put my education to better use.
Feelings of arrogance coupled with ignorance lead to a sense of shame, which tempts me to further conceal the little knowledge I have. Too often I walk past Egyptians and nod my head or say “hello” even though I know how to say salaam aleichum (peace be upon you), sabah el cher (hello or good morning), and meseh el cher (good evening). When Egyptians are kind enough to do me a favor, I frequently say “thank you” although I am perfectly capable of saying shokran. I must resist the temptation to hide behind the shelter of cosmopolitan Zamalek or more Arabic-proficient AUC peers and continue exposing my Arabic, however little or poorly pronounced it might be, to the harsh judgment of the Cairo street. And I must defy the inevitable feelings of frustration and apply myself in my colloquial Arabic class so that my vocabulary expands and I am able to exchange whole sentences with locals instead of a few basic phrases. Only through diligent study and constant practice will I be able to escape the sorrow that accompanies not knowing any Arabic.
Tags: Arabic, Cairo, embarassment, English, Khan el Khalili, shame, shopping, sorrow, streets, Tahrir Square, Zamalek
February 3rd, 2009 at 2:05 pm
Well I think it’s at least cool (and possibly beneficial) that the locals think you’re one of them…it should make for a more fun and authentic experience.
August 3rd, 2009 at 1:06 pm
I am an Egyptian who read the article and my only problem is the phrase ” Islamic Cairo ” we as Egyptians never called it that cause it has many Christian churches that has been there since the holy family visited Egypt/Cairo.
October 13th, 2009 at 2:17 pm
I think most locals respond favourably to westerners who make the effort. I’m sure it’s no different with Egyptians, though I’ve never been there. I can identify with the feeling of shame for our arrogance at being in their country and expecting them to speak to us in our language. Something’s not right about that. Probably the best way is to find some things which you love about their culture, learn about them, be able to talk about them and tell the locals about your interest in those things. I find that knowing a little about someone’s culture that they don’t expect you to know can break down many barriers. Also, pronouncing the words you know as authentically as you can creates an almost disbelief in them.
February 21st, 2010 at 7:00 pm
In response to Peter, i beg to differ with you!
We actually have both Islamic and Coptic Cairo in Egypt! that’s a fact.
Now their is this area in Cairo called “MOGAMMA’ EL ADYAN” and this area has a number if churches, though not only Coptic, but anyway, it also has a synagogue. This area is usually referred to as coptic cairo or mogama el adyan.
Any way the other area where their are a number of old mosques like Sayeda zeinab and nafeesa, and others, are usually referred to as Islamic Cairo, since, the majority of the residents and monuments are Islamic.
Another thing, this area referred to by Islamic Cairo did not exist at the time of Jesus Christ, so i am sure you mean the mogama el adyan region.
Anyway i am totally against classification according to religion, but if we try to look at the picture in an open minded way, i think this names would be but explanations and descriptions.