The Only Way To Get Read In Today's World: Sayed Kashua

Some writers lend themselves to translation much better than others. A short while ago I heard on the radio program This American Life (501: The View From In Here, JUL 26, 2013) a story by the Arab-Israeli writer Sayed  Kashua. I was impressed, but not surprised, at how well Kashua’s story came across in English. I read the original in Hebrew and his insights, subtle criticism of both the Israelis and the Palestinians, and his wit shone in English as well as they did in Hebrew. As an Arab in Israel, Kashua is constantly translating from Arabic to Hebrew and from Hebrew to Arabic. His biography is the embodiment of translation: he was born in the Arab village of Tira, and in school he learnt both Arabic and Hebrew. 
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http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/the-only-way-to-get-read-in-todays-world-sayed-kashua/

Please Leave Me A Note: About The Language Of Personal Notes

My husband  Tzvi and I were the kind of people who left notes to each other, they were short, often functional, but full with attention and love. By the time our first daughter was born, we have been writing notes for almost 8 years.

 At that time we lived in the US but, of course, we always corresponded in Hebrew. I never thought about the complex meaning of English versus Hebrew until it was time to read to my daughter. I knew that she would learn  English in pre-school, so we decided  to read to her mostly in Hebrew.

But then I started to think about the language of her future notes. As personal notes are such an intimate form of communication, I felt that it was crucial for my daughters (first the one and soon after the two) to be able to write them in Hebrew. 

Thus I decided to teach my daughters to read and write in Hebrew. I explained to them my rationale, and they agreed to make an effort. We created our own Hebrew school and every Sunday we wrote letters to my parents, and invented  stories that the girls wrote in their note books.

Although Tzvi and I spoke Hebrew at home, there was a period when my daughters spoke English to one another. I used to hear them play school with their stuffed animals giving them instructions in English. I didn’t say anything, but was worried about the future of those personal notes. 

Then we spent a Sabbatical year in Israel and once we had moved  back to the US, I noticed that the girls naturally shifted  back Hebrew.

Around us there were many Israeli friends who spoke English with their children. The strong Hebrew accent in English is very noticeable for me, and  I  always felt sorry for them. Somehow it seemed that this choice of  language reflected something about the relationship between parents and children and weakened the position of  the parent in the new country.

I had some frame of reference, from the beginning of the 20^th century Israel has always been  an immigrant society. Often when new immigrants arrived to Israel they knew very little Hebrew. Their  children normally became fluent in the language much faster than their parents and grandparents. A friend of mine told me that when she was 11 in the late 1960s she used to accompany her grandmother everywhere, especially to places like the local  hospital and different government offices. She was the interpreter for her grandmother who knew no Hebrew. This is a typical story, those children who became the mouth piece for the whole family  were put in an awkward position. On the one hand, they gained a special status in the family because of their responsible role.On the other hand, this reversal of roles, in which the child is the ambassador to  the outside world, was also a source  of confusion for everybody within that family

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Our Israeli friends in the US were young professionals whose English was good enough and they didn’t need an interpreter.  But still they lived in a foreign country where their children had a better mastery of the English language.  I felt that speaking to my daughters in my native tongue was  a better way to preserve the traditional roles in our family.

And as for the personal notes, my daughters, who spent most of their life in the US,  prefer to read and write in English. But whenever I come home to find a note from one of my daughters,  it is always written in Hebrew.

This  makes me especially happy.

What Does A Fat Cat Do In The BBC?

AUG.11.2013 -

Johnny and I were sitting  in the train when he drew my attention to one of the headlines in the freebie that was lying about. It took me a few seconds to decipher that title. Then it occurred to me that those  kind of titles were incomprehensible to many of the tourists who were travelling with us in that London train.

Teaching my students how to write the topic and the main idea sentence of a passage, I instruct them first to look at the title and the subtitle of the article. We usually practice this skill on articles from newspapers such as the New York Times and even The Guardian.

But this technique would never work with the Metro and the Evening Standard, which are full of puns, idioms and slang.  As they belong to the culture and the history of the people who speak the language, puns and idioms are the hardest to learn and to use correctly in a foreign language.

I was discussing with my students an article which appeared in several newspapers in the US, the title of which was, “Would your child pick up a gun? Don’t kid yourself.” Perhaps because of the gravity of the subject, some editions refrained from including the pun.  It seems to me that, in contrast to most American publications, the British freebies never resist a good pun.

When I first came to Britain in the late 70s I was fortunate to meet the grandfather of an English friend. He was a real Cockney who used to work on the Thames docks.  He taught me  some Cockney rhyming slang: a beer was “Pig’s ear” and a sister was “a skin and blister.” The issue became more complicated when a beer was replaced with “pig’s,” and a sister with a “skin.”  I had to know the whole phrase in order to decode the part which didn’t rhyme. Like Alice in Wonderland, I felt confused. It was a though I was introduced to a secret language, which in a way was what this Cockney rhyming slang was.

 London is full with tourists most of the year, and many of them have a good enough mastery of the English language. But  if they happen to look at the freebies they would  lose all confidence in their language skills. Perhaps this is the sweet revenge of the British, whose island is conquered every year by millions of foreigners: in their own quiet and understating way they make sure that we remain outside.

Oh, and I almost forgot, so what does a fat cat do in the BBC? She draws a fat-cat pay cheque of course.

   

http://www.cockneyrhymingslang.co.uk/

When We Should Not Take No For An Answer.

The English department at the University of Iowa offered many interesting graduate courses, but  I really wanted to take the seminar in expository writing. In order to be admitted we had to submit a sample of our work, I sent two  papers, both had received very good grades. To my dismay I was not accepted to the seminar, the professor wrote that my papers were not elegant enough.

This reply was very disappointing, but I knew that he was right. As English is my second language  my writing is purposeful, but it lacks the ease that many native writers possess, and I make mistakes

In retrospect  I should have contested the verdict; a much better course of action would have been to ask the professor to meet me. Face to face I could have explained that although I agreed with his opinion of my work,  his seminar could help me improve my writing and make it more elegant. Moreover, I should  have argued that as this was a teaching institution his commitment was to help the weaker students and not only to perfect the technique of those who were  already excellent.

But at the time I did nothing;  I was too embarassed, perhaps even ashamed, that my writing wasn’t good enough and did not dare to challenge that ruling.

The rejection of my application is an illustration of how sometimes under the pretense of academic excellence, or other lofty standards, we discriminate.  The professor had no idea who I was and what I was capable of, he simply compared my work to that of the rest of the candidates and concluded that I did not belong in his classroom. While this decision was entirely within his discretion, it was not inclusive and showed short-sightedness. Obviously I was the main loser, but by not investigating further, he deprived his class of the opportunity to intellectually engage with someone from another culture with different qualities and  insights.

Today I believe that we don't have to  automatically take no for an answer; there should be room for negotiation and further discussion. Often we accept exclusions because they comply with our inner fears or insecurities. It is especially true about students who are young and inexperienced.

Sometimes when people doubt our ability to do something we work much harder just to prove them wrong, at other times it is disheartening and life seems arbitrary and unjust. Evidently some rejections are unavoidable, but it is the teachers' rsponsibility not to harp on their  finality and to encourage their students either to try again or, if needed, to look for alternatives. When my students seek advice I tell them the story of the essay writing seminar. Then I urge them to dare, to be brave and request an opportunity to prove themselves so that they could succeed in achieving their goals .