by Clare Taylor (Fri Jan 29, 2010)
We've
finally quit talking about it, and moved the family to Russia. Amazingly, it's
all gone relatively smoothly to-date; schools are in place, a new house
acquired, the internet connected. But there is one area of life over here that
continues to frustrate: Making myself understood.
Being
a native English speaker can be a blessing; we arrogantly believe - with some
justification - that pretty much wherever we go in the world there is a good
chance we'll be able to make ourselves understood. If not by speaking the local
language fluently, then by raising our voices, gesticulating wildly, and
putting a ‘le' at the beginning of everything. Oh, we talk a good game
(although not in the host tongue, obviously), earnestly telling our kids that
it's important they study French / German / Spanish at school, because
‘speaking another language is a gift, darling, a gift! You'll thank me for it
one day. Now, how do you conjugate ‘to be' in French, again?' but really most
of us forget anything but a smattering of all that hard-won knowledge the
moment we step outside the school gates.
And
those of us ‘fortunate' enough to be part of a dual-nationality marriage,
perhaps deceive ourselves even more. We encourage our spouses to speak their
mother-tongue to our children, picking up a few choice phrases along the way
ourselves, smugly congratulating ourselves on equipping our children for a
multi-lingual life, whilst never for a moment realising - until it's too late,
of course - that what we are, in fact, doing, is giving our children the
ability to talk to each other in a language we
don't actually understand. But that's a whole other discussion...
There
is, however, a fatal flaw in this belief that English is the ‘lingua franca.'
It isn't. Dare I say it; the clue's in the name ‘Lingua Franca.' For Pete's
sake, it's not even in English. Amazingly, move away from the English-speaking
nations and close-to-home Western Europe and guess what? They don't understand
a bloody word you say.
You
would think, in our recent move to Russia that I would have prepared for this.
I certainly planned to. Back in September, planning our move here, I knew then
that most Russians don't speak much English, if any. And realising that the
chances of my being able to attend any formal lessons between then and our
departure date were slim, (and also, if I'm honest, thinking that level of
input wouldn't be necessary because, after all, I would apply myself) I purchased an audio ‘teach yourself Russian' course.
It
arrived. I dutifully downloaded all the software onto my computer. I spent
around 5 hours actually doing it... and the remainder of the period before we
left talking about how organised I was to have got this far. I also spent some considerable time
thinking about how much those 5 hours learning made my brain hurt. You see,
what I hadn't considered in my first flush of enthusiasm about equipping myself
with the tools to live abroad was this: Learning a language? It's actually
quite hard work. It's not even easy when you're 12 and your brain is firing on
all cylinders, for goodness sake. Why I should have imagined that it would get
easier now that I have 30 more years under my belt, 25 of which were spent
depleting my brain cells with alcohol and pregnancy (although not, of course,
at the same time), I don't really know.
The
long and short of it was that I arrived here at the beginning of January able
to say around 5 words in Russian. Admittedly, those 5 words are beautifully
pronounced (if I do say so myself - and I have to, because nobody else has
heard me to say them), but they haven't really equipped me for the realities of
day to day life. You know, complicated stuff, like doing the weekly shop, communicating
with taxi drivers, petrol pump attendants, and school nurses. Or to understand
supermarket security guards when they apprehend me on my way out of a store and
reveal the packet of biscuits my younger son has helpfully shoved at the back
of the trolley.
So
it seems that I WILL be having Russian lessons, after all. A scary Russian lady
- Ludmilla - who is apparently well-used to teaching ‘grown-ups' the rudiments
of her mother tongue is all lined up. I'm told she can be quite stern if you
don't do your homework, and that she doesn't tolerate lack of application.
Note to self: Do not throw the Russian audio course away...
