Aleph, Bet, Gimel – The A, B, C’s // learning Hebrew

Aleph, Bet, Gimel – The A, B, C’s
Learning another language had its trials and tribulations. I personally
did not like learning other languages when I was a young student.
Honestly, I did not have a rote memory if what I was learning
had no immediate relevance to my life. After all, America was a great
country – the foreigners on TV spoke English, and all the good
songs are in English. Aren’t they? Either way, I had a decent memory,
but only for things I wanted to remember. I could not repeat things
like a parrot. When I attended French classes in 9th grade I barely
remembered a word and had no intention of going to Paris as I had
not even been to Hollywood yet. On a family trip to the World’s
Fair in Montreal, Canada, I learned more French in a week than I
remembered from a year of French class. In college, though, I took
two semesters of Spanish thinking it would help me living in New
York. Another language was a requirement and French had already
proved to be a disaster. Little did I know that one day my first
Israeli girlfriend would be French, even though she spoke English
with a British accent. The rudimentary Hebrew I did know came
from grade school and synagogue. I could pray in biblical Hebrew –
Shakespearian Hebrew, if you will – but could not hold a conversation
in Hebrew. I did pick up some Modern Hebrew phrases from
my Israeli friends and the new Israeli songs coming out, but that
did not really prepare me for living in Israel. Nevertheless, others in
my ulpan class thought of me as lucky because I already knew more
Hebrew than they did.
One anecdote from the ulpan days happened when trying to decipher
store signs. Taking bike rides in the school’s neighborhood I
could practice my Hebrew by trying to understand the storefront
signs. My first major purchase was a ten-speed English racer. Since
Kfar Sava was situated on the coastal plane, it was mostly flat and
easy to navigate. In a Hebrew word, you need to find its shoresh (root
word), which consists of three letters. For instance, the root of S-ha-
l-o-m (peace, go in peace) is made of three Hebrew letters shin,
lamed, mem (whole). Hence, to be in peace is to be whole. You can
see already that Shalom in English is six letters while in Hebrew it
is four letters and the root word whole is only three letters. This is
an example that Hebrew is more condensed than English. With this
key to understanding Hebrew by finding root words, you can unravel
a myriad of words. A similar concept in English would be the
words immigrant and immigration coming from the root migrant.
In English the root “migrant” here is seven letters and in Hebrew
Oleh (migrant) is only four letters. Hence, we have an example of Hebrew
being a more condensed language than English. Thinking along
these lines, I came across a kiosk with an exceptionally long word for
Hebrew on the stores overhead sign; eight large letters long. Puzzled
about the meaning of the word, I could not figure out which three
of the eight letters made the root. I tried to spell it out phonetically
three letters at a time. Was it san, ndw, vic, chim?
I tried to pronounce the constellation of Hebrew letters out
loud.
San -dvi –chim.
Sandvichim?
…sandwiches? But that’s an English word!
Modern Israeli Hebrew is amusing – its hardest words don’t
originate from the Hebrew. Similar, I soon discovered that to Israelis
“soda” means club soda, not something like cola or baking soda.
“Cola” would later become synonymous with ordering a Coca-Cola
soft drink. Cultural differences in brand naming such as these are
a bit confusing at first and can make ordering food frustrating, but
eventually you learn a whole new way to communicate and find what
you’re looking for. I remember the time when I was hiking in the
Judean desert and came to a vendor in an ice cream truck. Asking
him for a cold orange soda on his shelves, he did not understand
what I was talking about. I gave up trying to figure out a way to say
“orange soda” and just pointed to the bottle. Once he could see
what I was talking about, he smiled and said, “Oh! Orangeada.” This
turned out to be a local brand name synonymous with orange soda.
Translating an expression word-for-word from one language to
another according to what a dictionary might say does not work
when trying to translate the MEANING of an idea from one culture
to another. I realized that the orange soda was a classic example of
this problem. I figured then that “orange soda” was not in this vendor’s
cultural vocabulary, but “orangeade,” like “lemonade,” was.
Another thing I learned on my bike expeditions was that Israelis
wanted to practice their English on me as much as I wanted to
practice my Hebrew on them. An even trade you expect, except that
I was supposed to be in a Hebrew speaking country. As I am trying
to converse in the language of their land, I am hearing English in
return. Therefore, we ended up with a Middle Eastern compromise.
I spoke in Hebrew and they would speak in English. It took about
five years in Israel to pass an important language landmark, when I
was able to speak in Hebrew and was finally answered in Hebrew.
Nevertheless, even after twenty years in Israel and speaking fluently
by then, there still were Israelis who wanted to practice their English
on me although I spoke Hebrew better than they spoke English. I
was happy to help.
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