Lingva Demando

Bebineto Emily videble estas kreskanta ĉiutage. Hieraŭ kuŝante en ŝia liteto ŝi klare kaj cele frapis ludileton pendigitan je la lita flanko. Poste dum mi nutris ŝin de patrin-lakta botelo, ŝi uzis sian brakon movi la botelon al pli konvena loko.

Baldaŭ ŝi ekparolos!

Nun staras la demando: kiun linvon paroli krom la angla? Ne estas demando ĉu uzi aliajn lingvojn! Sed estas multaj lingvoj, kaj nur iometo da tempo.

Mi kompreneble unue pensis pri Esperanto, ĉar mia Esperanta povo pligrandas ol mia Klingona, la sola alia lingvo, kion mi esploris en iom da detalo. Mi studiis la Klingonan antaŭ dudek jaroj, do mi forgesis la plejparton.

Mia preskaŭ sola kritiko de Esperanto estas, ke ĝi retenas malbonan patriarkan econ. Ekzistas reformoj, ekzemple riismo, sed mi ne scias ĉu ĝi subteniĝas.

Legi nuntempe la mirinda In the Land of Invented Languages, per Arika Okrent, memorigis min pri la lingvo Láadan. Ĝin kreis Suzette Hadin Elgin por esplori virinajn aferojn, kiujn ne povas facile esprimiĝi per niaj aktuala patriarkaj lingvoj.

Inter multaj interesaj trajtoj, en Láadan la ina estas la nemarkata sekso, kaj Láadan ankaŭ estas tona lingvo.

Do mi pensas, ke estos interesa provo. Sed mi (elble ni) devu lerni Láadan rapide!

Loĝante en Vankuvero, Emily certe lernos la Francan kaj la Mandarenan. La Francan per siaj gepatroj, kaj la Mandarena espere per la najbaroj.

Oni ne povas koni tro da lingvojn!

Why Not?

The European Union faces an immense problem: that of language. Currently all its documents must be translated into ALL of its members’ official languages, and translation services provided between each. Since there are currently around 23 official languages, this results in over 500 language pairs to translate between. The EU spends over 15% of its budget on translation! And with several more countries waiting join, the problem is going to grow exponentially.

Various proposals have been made to simplify the situation: the use of national languages like English (the de facto working language at present), French, Spanish or German, all of which are politically fraught; the use of Latin, which is seen as favouring the Romance languages; or the use of an artificial language like Esperanto, which would be sensible in my opinion, but is evidently too wierd for people.

There is a humourous site devoted to the polyglot mix that tends to be used in social situations at EU headquarters; who knows, this may eventually take form as a new European language.

But some students in Spain have an interesting idea: since the majority of languages in Europe are in the “Indo-European” language family, they are all descended from a hypothetical common ancestor. Thus why don’t we resurrect that mother language? That way nobody can claim linguistic imperialism.

I find the idea delightful, actually, especially since their proposal — specifically, to develop a formal reconstruction of Late Proto-Indo-European — is full of the wonderfully complex phonology and grammar that students of ancient Latin, Greek or Sanskrit have a bit of a glimpse of: the full eight nominal cases, in four declensions; six verbal tenses & moods in twelve conjugations, and much, much more.

There is ample precedent for this kind of thing, actually. Modern Hebrew is a reconstruction of a language dead for 2500 years. Modern Indonesian is a modern formalization of several Malay dialects. One of the two Norwegian languages is an artificial reconstruction.

Of course, the scheme would still leave speakers of Basque, Finnish, Hungarian & Turkish, among others, out in the cold. So I guess if we can’t please absolutely everybody, we shouldn’t try to please anybody.

“It’s only Hard for the First 10 Years”

Via LanguageHat, a wry essay on the difficulties of learning Arabic, something I know more than a little about.

Soon I began marching into the Arabic markets on Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn, near where I live, and testing out my textbook phrases. Generally I was met with a confused look and then a smiling apology: “We don’t hear too much fusha around here.” Linguistically speaking, what I had done was a bit like asking an Italian for directions in Latin. Modern fusha, also known as Modern Standard Arabic, is a modified version of the Classical Arabic in the Koran. It is the language of public address, and of any newscast on Al Jazeera and other Arabic television stations. It also corresponds to the written language, and any educated Arab can understand it. Arabs have enormous respect for fusha (“eloquent” is the word’s literal meaning), especially in its fully inflected Koranic form; that is why Al Qaeda’s leaders, like clerics and most political leaders, place great emphasis on the classical idiom.

But the language of the street is different. The colloquial versions of Arabic are derived from fusha, and they are dialects rather than wholly separate languages. Still, the gulf can be substantial in vocabulary as well as pronunciation, and takes getting used to.

I’ve been studying Arabic off and on for over 10 years, and really haven’t achieved anything. I can sound out words and read very slowly with a dictionary, but as for listening and speaking, forget it. Kinda depressing, actually.

By the way, do not pronounce the word “fusha” with an esh sound. The “s” and “h” are separate sounds. The first syllable rhymes with “book”, and the second is basically a choking sound (the author’s “lovely breath of air”).