5.Habibi,
It’s Ganatch! (20 May 2017)
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Why not make use of all the alphabets at your
disposal? The restaurant’s (now defunct) name, “Kammoun” (which means cumin), uses the Arabic doubling symbol over the English “m”, and uses the English letter “u” at the end, puts a dot over it, which makes it into the Arabic “n”. That’s a lot to explain for a one-word restaurant! (11 May 2016 – Mar Mikhael) |
One night recently a young friend
was driving me home, after I had spoken at her church’s youth group meeting.
She lives on the same side of the city as I, so I appreciated not having to wrangle
a taxi or service car driver, with my limited Arabic, to take me where I wanted
to go without also claiming possession of one of my arms and/or legs. At that
hour it wasn’t too congested, relatively speaking, when we drove up to an
intersection to wait for the traffic light. (Oh yes, when people ask me if I
have noticed any changes in Beirut, I always mention how ten years ago it was
rare for drivers to pay attention to the traffic signals, few as they were; now
it is common for people to obey the lights. What’s more, they will sit in
traffic without constantly beeping their horns. Most of them. Most of the
time.)
So,
there we were, sitting at this red light on a Saturday night, waiting behind one
other car. The light turned green and… we continued sitting there. I guess the
driver ahead of us had an important WhatsApp message to send or read. So, my
youthful driver looked through the windshield at the traffic light and then at
the unconscious driver in front of her and pleaded through the windshield,
“Habibi, it’s ganatch!” (“My dear, it’s green!”) And after about a half-millisecond pause, all
of us in the car burst out laughing. We laughed about it the rest of the way.
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One of the more creative uses of multilingualism
I’ve seen. It includes Armenian words in English letters, Armenian letters, and a combination of both. I wonder if the “artist” realized what he was doing. (11 May 2016 – Mar Mikhael) |
You’ve
probably heard this joke before (stop me if you’ve heard this already): Q:
“What do you call someone who knows two languages?” A: “Bilingual.” Q: “What
about someone who knows three languages?” A: “Trilingual.” Q: “How about
someone who knows one language?” A: “American.” It’s well known that the
languages you speak help to shape your ability to think about the world. It
helps you to enter the world of those around you. And to better understand it.
And when you lack that understanding, it leads to… well, things like warmly welcoming
a dictator/ally and his goons to the White House.
The world around here in Beirut is filled
with daily reminders that the region is in turmoil. There is a linguistic
hodge-podge of tongues and dialects, including Lebanese Arabic, Syrian Arabic,
Palestinian Arabic, Iraqi Arabic, various African dialects of Arabic, Kurdish, Turkish,
Ethiopian, Sinhalese, Tagalog, most European languages, and of course,
Armenian. Certain groupings of languages are identified with certain strata of
people: southern hemisphere languages among domestic workers (servants); northern
hemisphere languages among tourists, aid workers, and private school students;
regional (non-Lebanese) Arabic dialects among day workers or bus drivers; and
so forth.
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LebCat4 stakes out its position in the same spot,
under whatever car is parked here every afternoon, much like the regular beggars on our street. (25 Apr. 2017) |
The hardest speech for me to
decipher, though, is the speech of the beggars. Often I think I understand what
they’re saying, but mostly I don’t. Sometimes it’s not even Arabic they are
speaking. So, it is nearly impossible for me to “enter their world”. But one
thing that I am able to notice is that each of them has a certain “territory”.
From that vantage point, they see me pass by every day, and I see them
occupying their workplace every day. Their words and gestures to passersby
never change, because this is their “job”. And they have “managers” (whom I
have seen), who expect a certain amount of money from them at the end of each
day.
Yet
the truly impoverished, and the ones for whom local churches and other agencies
have organized outreach to help with aid, education, and hope, are those I
don’t see in the course of my day in the city. They are the ones scattered
elsewhere in Lebanon, living in makeshift camps. The official numbers are quite
low, perhaps 4:1 Lebanese to refugees. But the actual amount is likely closer
to 1:1. For now, all I can do to help is to assist, encourage and pray for
those who are hands-on and hearts-on with them.
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LebCat 5 is determined to make use of the very last
bit of the sun’s rays for as long as possible (19 Mar. 2017) |
We’ve
entered graduation season, which is also governmental exam season, and many
young people are completely focused on these upcoming exams. Ninth and twelfth
graders, to be specific. Our social life consists of going to this or that
commencement event, and sometimes (as is the case with the Near East School of
Theology, where we are living) we are even asked to be the speaker! Well,
that’s what I’ve been asked to do. For
her part, Maria was asked to be the speaker at the Armenian Evangelical women’s
joint Ascension Day service, which will take place in a scenic destination in
the north of the country next week.
We finally were able to present our
application for residency last Monday, and, if all goes well, we’ll receive the
permits in a few days. That same day, the day we were called to appear at
General Security to be photographed and fingerprinted, we received notice that
our household goods had arrived at the port. Coincidence? Or perhaps it was God’s
timing, to encourage us and remind us that he is guiding us in this new
venture. [LNB]
