Arabic: One Reason I’m Studying Arabic

October 29, 2009 By 2 Comments

The guys in the photo below are refugees from Sudan. They are becoming the leaders of the Sudanese Church in Tel Aviv, and our church has adopted them.

Besides some financial help, we are trying to train them to be leaders of the church. We recently finished a Bible study methods course, and are now beginning to study the qualifications of a church leader found in I Timothy 3 and Titus 1.

The studies are interesting in that we use English as the teaching language, but Arabic and Dinka are used as well. Hopefully, my Arabic studies will help me be a better teacher for them.

Filed Under: 1 Timothy, Arabic, Helping Others, Life in Israel, Ministry, New Testament, Sudan, Titus

My Guardian Angel

October 28, 2009 By Leave a Comment

Since I started studying Arabic in the Old City, I’ve become friends with a man who I call my guardian angel. Almost immediately upon meeting, we connected in a way that predicted that he would become a very important friend to me.

I have been very surprised at how he has taken me under his wing. I see him almost every time I’m in the Old City, and he always has something to tell me. Our conversations are often cut short because I need to get to school, but they are always enjoyable. He has warned me about certain areas of the market where drugs are prevalent, given me the background on a number of individuals in the area, and a variety of other pieces of information that are helpful for me to know. 

He’s a Muslim, a father and grandfather, has lived in Silwan (aka City of David) since the beginning of time, and seems to enjoy talking with me in any language: Arabic, Hebrew or English (in that order). His formal education ended after 3rd grade, but he has a PhD in street education. As a boy, he sold souvenirs to tourists. He also worked in the family bakery in the Old City. Now he works in the Old City. His story is fascinating, and I’m interested to hear more.

Filed Under: Arabic, Arabs, Jerusalem, Old City

Arabic: Learning to Read Arabic

October 27, 2009 By Leave a Comment

Some 17 years ago, I was standing in the kitchen at Jerusalem University College talking with one of the cooks. I had a can of something in my hand that had Arabic writing on it. I asked him what was inside, and was amazed that he could read all the scribbly lines. To me, they really appeared to be scribbles, but to his eye, they said much.

In the last 3 weeks, things have changed for me. I’m not going to say that I’m amazed that all those scribbly lines now have meaning to me, but I am happy to say that I can actually read in Arabic. Most of the time, I still don’t know what the words are, but I can read them. Sure, in many cases, I’m still sounding out the letters like my 5 year-old daughter does in Hebrew, but I can identify the letters and the sounds they make.

Though I don’t mean it as such, it may sound like bragging when I say that I can actually read Arabic better than many of the Arab men who sit at Damascus Gate throughout the day. It was actually somewhat of a surprise to me, to find out how many older men and some teens can’t read. Obviously, they know what the word means when I read it, so they are still FAR ahead of me. Let’s be clear about that!

After class, I had some time before I had to be at my daughter’s school, so I decided to sit in the shade outside Damascus Gate and do my homework, which was to translate some sentences from English to Arabic. For example, I am Karim and she is Rina.

The assignment wasn’t difficult, but I wasn’t certain how to spell some of the words, so I asked a 40-ish year old man sitting next to me if he could help me. He was interested until I asked him how to spell I, you ( m, f), he, she, we, you (pl) and they in Arabic. I never considered that he might not know how to spell those words, but felt bad when he didn’t. He directed me to another 40-50 year old man, who also didn’t know how to spell. Without going blow by blow, I can say a number of men couldn’t spell, so I was directed to a teen age boy who had trouble going beyond the first three words: I, you (m), and you (f). Now, this wasn’t one of the boys who quit school and went to work at 9 or 10. He simply couldn’t spell these basic words. I thanked him for his efforts and did the best I could.

For those who are still interested in the process of learning to read in Arabic, the first thing to know is that Arabic is read from right to left. You should also know that there are 28 letters, which have four forms, depending on where they come in the word. They have a stand alone shape, and then a shape if they are the first letter, a middle letter or the last letter in the word. Since the shape for the last letter position is basically the same as the stand alone shape, some say there are only three shapes for each letter. I say four because it sounds like I’ve learned more.

Here is an example of the letter nun (N in English) in four forms:
1. Stand alone: ن                        
2. First letter: نبيل        
3. Middle letter: كنيس           
4. Final letter: شن

(NOTE: Mixing English and Arabic on the same line will probably affect spacing in your browser.)

Okay, I’ll stop the language lesson here. Don’t confuse me for an Arabic teacher: I just thought some may like to know something basic about the language.

I have formally studied English, Spanish, Russian, Hebrew and Arabic, and I believe Arabic is a bit harder than Russian because it is more tonal. But these are the two hardest I’ve studied.

Filed Under: Arabic, Arabs

Abu Sa’ad

October 26, 2009 By 3 Comments

This is Abu Sa’ad. We recently met in the Old City of Jerusalem. He initiated our meeting by doing a few things that no one has ever done to me in the Old City: First, as I was chimping the photos I had just shot, he stuck his head over my shoulder to see what I was looking at. He seemed to appreciate the shots (which may appear here at some point in the future), and gave me an open door to speak.

I tried to use some of my newly acquired Arabic, which went pretty well. I told him that I was learning Arabic and he was happy to engage in small talk with me. Mostly he told me about himself like where and when he was born: His identity card says he was born in 1926, though he insists it was really 1925. He also showed me his business card and made a little more small talk before moving along.

When he was about 25 yards from me, it dawned on me that he was going the same way I was going, and that I might be able to get up ahead and snipe a shot of him. So I gathered my things and tried to get ahead of him.

However, I attracted his attention as I tried to pass him in the narrow alley, and he started to talk to me again. Then he did the second thing that has never happened to me in the Old City: He asked me if I wanted to take his picture. In elementary Arabic, I clarified if he had just asked if I wanted to take his picture. I had understood him correctly, and happily said yes. He struck a pose and waited patiently as I made a few adjustments and openly took the shots I had hoped to snipe.

After I took the photos, we continued to walk together for about 5 minutes. As we talked, he revisited the year of his birth with me, even showing me his identity card to verbally correct the date that was shown there. I asked him where he was going and found out that he prays at Al Aqsa Mosque every day. I asked how many times he prays there each day, but his answer was long and drawn out and not understood by me. We talked about the prayer beads he was carrying, but I didn’t really understand what he said about them either. I did the best I could, but didn’t understand much of what was said. However, I did enjoy seeing that the new words I was using were understood by my new friend.

I hope that as my language skills improve, I’ll see Abu Sa’ad again. I’m sure he is filled with interesting stories, and I want to understand some of them.

Filed Under: Arabic, Arabs, friends, Jerusalem, Life in Israel, Old City, Photography

Arabic: Langauge, Coffee, and Culture

October 22, 2009 By Leave a Comment

I dropped my daughter off at school at 07:30, ninety minutes before my Arabic class was scheduled to start. I say, “scheduled to start” because we have yet to start on time, or even close to time. Never mind, we usually go over at the end, so I guess I’m getting all I paid for.

I enjoy wandering around the Old City for lots of reasons, but one of them is that I get a chance to use my Arabic as I’m gaining it, little by little.

This time, I was in the Old City earlier than usual and found myself in the company of a friendly man. I told him that I was studying Arabic and he was all too happy to speak (much too fast) to me in Arabic.

The conversation started fairly normally: “Where are you from?” he asked. “Jebal Abu Gneim,” I said, offering the Arabic name of my “settlement.” In my thinking, that’s a little olive branch toward those who might be offended that I live in an area that is considered by many to be stolen land. We were both surprised to discover that we are neighbors: he from Um Tuba, I from Har Homa (Jebal Abu Gneim). Two villages sitting next to each other, one Arab, the other Jewish. One considered native, the other considered a settlement. However, he didn’t seem worked up about where I live. In fact, he was impressed that I know of his village, Um Tuba.

After about 90 seconds of nothing about where we both live, he wanted to know where I’m really from. So, I told him Texas. “Oh, Bush!!!” he gushed. Then, he went into a long discourse, mixing Arabic, Hebrew, and English, according to his assessment of what I was understanding. “Bush has a gold brain, but a black heart” he said with conviction and the assumption that I would understand what that meant. I didn’t. And I just stared back at him with what I thought was the “I have no idea what that means” look. (Unfortunately, it wasn’t until AFTER our conversation that I asked how to say, “I don’t understand” in Arabic.)

I did have an idea that my new friend wasn’t being complementary about President Bush, but I wasn’t certain how badly he thought of the former President. After a few moments of dead time gazing at each other, he said it again, but with less Arabic and more – can I say this? – Hebrew. In this part of the Old City, most men seem to be able to speak Hebrew, but they want to do it in whispers, so that others don’t hear them. I’m totally fine if they speak to me in English, but they tell me (in a whisper, of course) that they are more confident in their Hebrew than their English.

Anyway, he began to use the story of Cain and Abel from the Quran to explain what he meant. Because I didn’t catch “Cain and Abel” in Arabic, he offered them to me in Hebrew, so it took him longer than he had hoped it would to get me on track. “Cain who killed his brother Abel,” he clarified, “also had a gold brain and black heart.” And with that, his assessment of President Bush was finished.

I’m not sure if he felt the freedom to share his assessment of President Bush because we are neighbors, or because I’m learning his language, or simply because I was willing to listen.

I suppose it is open to a variety of interpretations as to exactly what he meant. But, I didn’t pursue it because long ago, I stopped being defensive of the President of the United States, whoever may be President. I don’t see much, if any value in going down that road. I do want to understand better what people mean, and find that Arab men that are older than me often use word pictures that they think will clearly communicate to me, but actually only puzzle me.

After the “gold and black” thing, he insisted we have coffee. Now, I don’t drink coffee. Let me say that again, but more clearly: I DON’T DRINK COFFEE. More than once, I’ve explained to people, “I’m not being modest by saying no; I REALLY don’t like coffee. I don’t like the taste, and it usually burns my tongue.” Well, no matter: out came the thick coffee in the thimble size cups. I went ahead and accepted it since I didn’t really have a choice at that point. I held it for a moment and then took the smallest micro-sip possible, valiantly fought off the natural reaction toward severe bitter tastes, and swallowed the unbelievably rancid brew. After that, I just held the cup in my hand with NO intention whatsoever that it would come near my mouth again. He was happy to see that I enjoyed his coffee, which is to say that I must have had better control of my facial gestures than I thought possible. 

He needed to get going, so he bid me a “mah-salami” (“see you later”), but didn’t get away before I had him write his name out for me. I hope to wander over to his village on a Saturday or Sunday to visit. But, I’ll make sure it is time for tea, not coffee.

It seems to me that there are three major currencies among Arab men: coffee, cigarettes, and politics. Unfortunately, I don’t care for any of the three. However, I’m hopeful that my Arabic studies combined with Arab hospitality will give me some good in-roads into this community.

Filed Under: Arabic, Arabs, Culture, friends, Jerusalem, Life in Israel, Old City, Politics, Word Pictures
« Previous Page
Next Page »