BY AYESHA BİLAL (PSYC/III)
ayesha@ug.bilkent.edu.tr
I talk far too much about languages, I think, but you have to pardon the obsession; after all, everyone’s got a hobby. Mine is languages, and not necessarily just learning them; everything about languages fascinates me, really. I come from a family of mixed linguistic background, and so I’ve developed an obstinate habit and an increasing level of ease in displacing myself in countries with languages alien to me and forming friendships with people whose native languages are different than mine. As frustrating as it might get occasionally, I wouldn’t have it any other way. The language barrier creates a challenge, but it’s one I have no issue with, because it drives me to enhance my skills in new languages and become more flexible as an individual. I mean, it’s no walk in the park navigating in a foreign country, going about your daily life but having to do it as if you were a child growing up and learning things all over again. How do you say milk and eggs? How do you ask when the bus is arriving? How do you ask for directions when you’re lost? The answer is, you adjust and accommodate to your surroundings, and you’ll be surprised how such a daunting task is actually easier done than said. Sure, occasionally I too run into situations where the language barrier that comes with living in Turkey as a foreigner gets too difficult to jump over, so that however far I have come in learning Turkish seems futile, and I momentarily blame myself for making my own life so hard with my unstructured decision making. But those occasional moments are just anomalies in an otherwise exciting and productive experience of living abroad. Learning a language is a difficult and multifaceted process, but as all my other language-hungry friends would agree, it’s a very rewarding activity that broadens your perspective on the world around you without your realizing it. Now, I don’t mean you have some sort of epiphany and discover the meaning of life, but it sure does enhance the way you think about the world, and about people; it brings you an understanding of the vastness and the diversity of our world. For me, most importantly, it gives a sense of productivity and challenge that I appreciate in contrast to the humdrum of daily life. I wouldn’t consider myself an expert or even close to one when it comes to languages—I know people who know far more difficult languages and quantitatively more languages than I do, and I admire their achievements.
What is it like living day in, day out facing a language barrier? For most foreigners, this question needs no answering, but for those who have experienced foreign countries only as tourists (which doesn’t count, in my humble opinion), let me tell you that for the most part, it’s not fun. Indeed, I might be odd in enjoying the challenge, since I can’t imagine it’s really enjoyable for the average expat. Especially when it comes to a language like Turkish that may be a drastic contrast to your own native tongue, speaking and understanding take some time to get used to. And by getting used to, I don’t mean getting the hang of, but rather just getting used to the constant state of cluelessness and partial understanding of what people are trying to say to you. And don’t forget the sign language. After a certain point it seems like you’ve successfully created a language of your own when it comes to the excessive use of hand and body gestures, and drawings made in the air to signify what you’re trying to say. If I do say so myself, I’ve come a long way in learning Turkish, so I don’t have to face that state of cluelessness nearly as much anymore—just the occasional moments of polite nodding when I really haven’t understood a word. But the process was a slow one, and I did appreciate native speakers constantly lying to me, telling me my Turkish was outstanding when I was just a green, confused foreigner trying to get through the ought-to-be simple task of ordering food. I knew they were exaggerating at best, but it still encouraged me to make the effort to someday reach the level where people wouldn’t be surprised and feel the need to pat me on the back for every Turkish word I said.
Why did I think of doing what appears to be quite randomly ranting on about the language barrier? I mean, three years after my arrival in Turkey, it’s kind of late of be discussing this topic. Well, first of all, I hope readers who are in the first months of dealing with this barrier on a daily basis will feel encouraged to know that it’ll be downhill from here on. But what really started this chain of thought in my head was a recent news story I read about a man who was in an unfortunate car accident that caused many injuries to his head. Nothing fatal—he recovered, but remarkably, he recovered speaking fluent Chinese (a language he had never tried to learn in his life) and eventually decided to move to China. There, he got offered a very nice job, so his ending appears to be a happy one. It’s not a new story—things like that happen and have happened in the past as well. But I admit I let out an exasperated sigh, knowing that I’ve put myself through the grinder for three years trying to learn Turkish while living in Turkey, and this individual, without having any prior association with China or Chinese, attained fluency in a mere few days. But before you go running off to stand in the middle of the road waiting for a miracle, remember that the language barrier is not really so bad when you consider it as part of the entire experience of living abroad, and learning and growing from challenges. Taking the shortcut is not nearly as fun a journey.