I am now held in the firm belief that communication is the
root of life as we know it. How I never
considered that life could not continue without communication while studying
the very social human species all through college is completely beyond me. I guess I could just say that I was
conducting a firsthand experiment and have just now had ample time to explore
the relationship of people and subsequent relationships along with their
language use.
Growing up and being a native English speaker in a world
that increasingly uses English to communicate internationally, I am in a unique
position – one where, living in America, speaking a language other than English
is more of a hobby or “thing to know” rather than a necessity for life, job
security, or survival. Outside of
America, this is not so much a fact as an illusion and lucky me, I am now
living outside of America. Here in
Cambodia, and other parts of the world, children are taught to speak English
and languages other than the native language beginning in primary school.
Sokchea has been learning the English language since far
before I came to live in the room upstairs.
In primary school he started learning, and now, at 13 years old, he
still goes to English lessons (he is learning how to type, too). Sometimes he asks me what words mean but more
often than not, I am asking him.
Recently I tried to explain to my host mom the half-marathon in Siem
Reap. “Knyom tao Siem Reap sumraap roat hutbraan,” I will say to her, I am
going to Siem Reap to run. She doesn’t
understand. I run outside on the road,
why would I have to go all the way to Siem Reap to do the same thing I can do
on the road outside? “Sokchea,” I ask,
“race, ta meich?” how do you say,
“race”? and he will ask me to spell it – and then give a translation which I
repeat and attempt (usually failing) to commit it to memory for its use later.
My host mom told my visiting program manager that Sokchea
was first in his English class and she attributed his great language skills to
my help. It had nothing to do with me,
let me tell you, that boy is crazy smart.
He also knows that to rise in his world, speaking English is
necessary. For Sokchea to continue on to
higher education, speaking English is necessary. For most jobs in cities where he would hope
to earn a decent paycheck and support his family, speaking English is necessary. To even use many programs on the computer,
reading English is necessary.
Just a few nights ago my host mom was putting on some sweet
smelling lotion. Ka-oab I said, having recently learned the difference between the
Khmer word for something that smells good that you will eat and something that
smells good that you will not eat. My
host mom smiled. Ka-oab? She asked me
and I thought for a moment, “fragrant,” I responded. She tried to pronounce it and Sockchea said, “good
smell, Bong?” I nodded, “trau” correct.
Man Kheang randomly interjects, “Ch’guy-Ahnglay-dog” … “Chmaw-Ahnglay-cat”
… “Laan-Ahnglay-car,” saying the
Khmer word, “English” and then the English word that he has learned.
“IPad Ahnglay
IPad,” Man walks around saying, chuckling at his little joke.
Some words just make sense-the kind of words you learn and
learn to translate and say, why didn’t we do something like that? For example,
when asking someone for the check in Khmer, you say gut loy, literally think of
money. How cool is that? And the word “cool” is one of my favorites:
it sounds like low-ey which is very
similar to the word for “Money” (loy)
and so when the kids say something is low-ey,
I always imagine them saying “money” like,
Bong, this spiderman costume is money! Ha. The word may is also one of my favorites, because it means “boss” and also
“mother” – proving that Khmer people have gotten more than one thing straight
while composing their language.
Then there are the Khmer words which are decidedly English,
just with a different location for the accent mark. For example: “internet,” “computer,” “magazine,”
and of course “beer,” are all words that have been adopted from the English
language and are very easy to translate here; just put the accent at the end of
the word and Cambodian people who do not speak English will understand what you
are saying.
One afternoon a few months ago, Man Kheang came up to my room
and asked me to teach him how to write his name in English. I carefully wrote out his name for him in my
best handwriting, and he painstakingly copied it just below on the same
page. As he held it up proudly to show
me, I thought at that moment that I understood why teachers choose their
careers and stay in the classroom long after their students leave. In front of me sat a pleased little Khmer boy
who had just written his name in my language, grinning like a madman at his
accomplishment.
And I, for one, had never been so proud.
xo-Amanda
