I have always wanted to be multilingual. A few years ago I finally decided to take the plunge and start actually studying. This was almost instantly fatal to my long held fantasy that I would be one of the lucky few with the ability to pick up languages effortlessly. Italian came fairly easily at first because it had the familiar logic and recognizable syntax of a Romance language. Unaware that Italian subjunctive verbs were lurking around the next corner waiting to pounce with blunt instruments, I decided that I was ready to tackle another linguistic challenge. Foolishly I chose Irish.
Irish to a fluent speaker is melodic trickling language that can make a weather report sound poetic. It is spoken fluently by about twenty to thirty thousand people worldwide. I thought I'd be doing something vaguely altruistic on behalf of my ancestors in helping to preserve it. Irish does not appreciate my efforts. Instead of a cheerful country brook, Irish to the beginner is a relentless class four rapids filled with jagged grammatical boulders, turbulent and angry structural switchbacks to capsize you and pull you under into inescapable phonetic whirlpools while the spelling jeers at you from the shore, throwing rocks at your head.
Four years and two more languages later here's where I stand linguistically:
Italian- I can slowly read passages of Dante and understand about half of what's said to me. I do halfway decently in a short conversation provided that the other person is willing to wait as I blunder around looking for the right word.
Irish- I struggle on mostly out of stubbornness at this point. I am resigned to the fact that I will never be fluent. I can catch stray phrases in songs and conversations. I continue my grappling match with the same respect surfers are said to have for the ocean. I remain convinced that Irish spelling is a linguistic act of rebellion, designed purposefully to frustrate and annoy the English. I will happily expound on this theory to anyone foolish enough to ask.
Spanish: This is probably my strongest language. I can read it and understand it fairly well if the speaker is talking slowly. I can make myself understood most of the time. It should be pointed out however, people on the other end of a Spanish conversation usually adopt the sympathetic, cheerful attitude of those addressing a congenital idiot.
French. My comprehension is better in the written word, but I am surprised how well I understand spoken French at times. I attribute this to having learned Spanish and Italian first. Throughout most of the French speaking world, my pronunciation is considered a form of aggravated assault.
In August, just after booking my flight, I started adding Swahili to my rotation. I though I would at least have a useful comprehension of the grammar to fall back on. Five months later I am forced to concede defeat. Swahili is a charming language and aside from the occasional Arabic loan word, phonetically simple and logical. Sentence structure is different from Romance languages but not too difficult. The stumbling block for me proved to be possessives, plurals and tenses. I will freely admit that I could have devoted more time and effort to learning this language
Swahili words seem to be contextual based on relations to the surrounding words The possessive "my" can be langu, wangu, yangu zangu, changu kwangu, vyangu or pangu depending on the first letter of the word it pertains to, which in turn can change whether the noun is singular or plural. The base word is the same but the prefix changes everything "Kujenga" (to build) or Kusafari (to travel) can become Ninajenga (I am building) or Yeye alisafari (she traveled) in a way that makes perfect linguistic sense, but I have yet to figure out, and it seems unlikely with the time left that I will be able to do more than exchange basic pleasantries, know what some animals are called and assert that "Maembe ni matunda" (Mangoes are fruit)
Irish to a fluent speaker is melodic trickling language that can make a weather report sound poetic. It is spoken fluently by about twenty to thirty thousand people worldwide. I thought I'd be doing something vaguely altruistic on behalf of my ancestors in helping to preserve it. Irish does not appreciate my efforts. Instead of a cheerful country brook, Irish to the beginner is a relentless class four rapids filled with jagged grammatical boulders, turbulent and angry structural switchbacks to capsize you and pull you under into inescapable phonetic whirlpools while the spelling jeers at you from the shore, throwing rocks at your head.
Four years and two more languages later here's where I stand linguistically:
Italian- I can slowly read passages of Dante and understand about half of what's said to me. I do halfway decently in a short conversation provided that the other person is willing to wait as I blunder around looking for the right word.
Irish- I struggle on mostly out of stubbornness at this point. I am resigned to the fact that I will never be fluent. I can catch stray phrases in songs and conversations. I continue my grappling match with the same respect surfers are said to have for the ocean. I remain convinced that Irish spelling is a linguistic act of rebellion, designed purposefully to frustrate and annoy the English. I will happily expound on this theory to anyone foolish enough to ask.
Spanish: This is probably my strongest language. I can read it and understand it fairly well if the speaker is talking slowly. I can make myself understood most of the time. It should be pointed out however, people on the other end of a Spanish conversation usually adopt the sympathetic, cheerful attitude of those addressing a congenital idiot.
French. My comprehension is better in the written word, but I am surprised how well I understand spoken French at times. I attribute this to having learned Spanish and Italian first. Throughout most of the French speaking world, my pronunciation is considered a form of aggravated assault.
In August, just after booking my flight, I started adding Swahili to my rotation. I though I would at least have a useful comprehension of the grammar to fall back on. Five months later I am forced to concede defeat. Swahili is a charming language and aside from the occasional Arabic loan word, phonetically simple and logical. Sentence structure is different from Romance languages but not too difficult. The stumbling block for me proved to be possessives, plurals and tenses. I will freely admit that I could have devoted more time and effort to learning this language
Swahili words seem to be contextual based on relations to the surrounding words The possessive "my" can be langu, wangu, yangu zangu, changu kwangu, vyangu or pangu depending on the first letter of the word it pertains to, which in turn can change whether the noun is singular or plural. The base word is the same but the prefix changes everything "Kujenga" (to build) or Kusafari (to travel) can become Ninajenga (I am building) or Yeye alisafari (she traveled) in a way that makes perfect linguistic sense, but I have yet to figure out, and it seems unlikely with the time left that I will be able to do more than exchange basic pleasantries, know what some animals are called and assert that "Maembe ni matunda" (Mangoes are fruit)
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