Babelkid - Raising Multilingual Children

Helwa ya baladi

2013-05-15T14:51:00.001+01:00

Sitting on the window sill, looking out the window, la grisaille, la pluie battante, le froid, écoutant Dalida chanter:

املي دائما كان يا بلدي

اني ارجع ليك يا بلدي

و افضل دائما جنبك على طول

My hope has always been, my country

That I come back to you, my country

And always remain by your side, forever

et les larmes coulent d'elles-mêmes. The tears roll down, I can't help it.

Spring (or lack of) in Northern England

I feel silly. I feel a fool. I left of my own accord, I was eager to discover what lay out there, my destiny.

What's stopping me from going back? Nothing and everything. What's drawing me back? What's tying me to my country? Everything, primarily my parents; they spent their lives raising us. They are now left by themselves, facing old age without the daily joys that grandchildren bring. Guilt.

I am nostalgic, I guess as much as any 30 or 40 something parent. I long to replicate what made me happy when I was a child myself. The difference is my childhood memories are inextricably linked to the sun, the heat, the noise, the smells, the conversations, the white veils, the music. And none of it is here, neither in place nor in time. Double whammy.

When will I be content with my destiny, that of an exile? Probably never, according to Dalida, Enrico Macias, and Dahmane El Harrachi. It is a slight consolation that my feelings have been sung and shared for such a long time.

The thing is because I know where I come from, I feel I know who I am. What about my children? A question I did not ask myself when I fell for a foreigner in a third country, then moved to a fourth.

Now, I am acutely aware of these identity questions. My children are not; they are busy being children. Will they have trouble later figuring out who they are, not sure where they came from?

Whether I like it or not, the identity question is catching up with me, and will certainly creep up on the girls.

In the meantime, BK3 keeps pressing replay on Salma Ya Salama. A song by an Italian by blood, Egyptian by birth and French by adoption. Still Egypt, the place of her childhood, remained her bilad, to the end. I wonder how much of her troubles in adult life were linked to any feelings of being cut from a tree, uprooted...

It's not Them, it's You!

2013-04-14T20:39:00.000+01:00

"With all those languages, aren't you afraid your children won't learn any language properly?"

Heard that before, haven't we?

The latest incarnation came from a French au-pair girl who works for our neighbours. She reported that often, our children wouldn't understand her.

Turns out she based that on the fact that they didn't answer her, giving her the impression she had not reached through.

In reality, they almost certainly did understand everything she said.

But they know that she is monolingual. They knew exactly what they wanted to say, and usually would have said it easily using their vintage Arabic-French mix with some English thrown in, but of course she wouldn't have understood them, and they knew it.

So instead, they decided to just not say anything. Easier.

In essence, the problem here is not that the Babelkids don't understand French. The problem is, in fact, that the au-pair doesn't understand Arabic.

Ha.

My Childhood TV

2013-04-07T18:20:00.000+01:00

BabelDad was surprised to learn I watched Sesame Street when I was a child, in Arabic. I am sure every 30-something Algerian can still hum along the opening score of "إفتح يا سمسم " (Open Sesame).

Ernie and Bert were of course Anis and Badr. Same stories, but in Classical Arabic.
Even though the girls are familiar with the German version, SesamStraße, they were not that impressed by the Arabic one.

Remember when you were a child, looking up a word in the dictionary, only to realise 10 minutes later you had forgotten what you were looking for? Same thing happens to me on Youtube. The memories flooded in.

While looking up episodes of Sesame Street, I stumbled upon
سنان (Sinan). It follows the adventures of Sinan, a beaver who is well-endowed in the teeth department, and his animal friends, in the green forest.

This on the other hand caught the girls' attention big time. They have been snuggling on the sofa for the last two hours, watching episodes of Sinan on the ipad, in classical Arabic. BK1 says she understands a bit, while BK2 does not understand much. BK3 is just mesmerized by the screen, as usual.

I find it bizarre to understand a language that my daughters don't. What a funny feeling. It makes me more determined to redress the balance.

This is why we are about to shell out on a satellite dish and a decoder. Not to watch the latest blockbuster or football game, but to have a preschool TV channel, in Arabic.

On Good Books and Difficult Translations

2013-03-19T21:40:00.001Z

"We're Going on a Bear Hunt" by Michael Rosen and Helen Oxenbury is on of my favourite books for the babelkids. (I might have mentioned it before.) All three of them like it and BK3 (now 2.5yo) wants to see and hear it pretty much every night currently.

We managed to get three versions of the book: English, French and German.

Now I fully get that translating is a difficult job. Especially for a book that comes with a rythm and all.

(Btw: BK3 has seen this video ~~a couple of times~~ a lot and demands that I do the same routine.)

So how do the French and German version fare? Honestly: sub-par.

The French translation tries to stay close to the text. That works in a sense, because if you know the original, you can read from the French version in English, i.e. translate on the fly. I'm sorry, but the French just doesn't work.

The German version, though, is absolutely abysmal. The translation is trying to stay closer to the pattern, but it does so in a stupidly funny way that I think really doesn't do the book any justice. At all. As in: do NOT buy that.

Yes, I do understand that translating is difficult. Maybe for some really good books it just shouldn't be done at all.

Nochmal auf Deutsch, weil es wichtig ist: Die Deutsche Version ist wirklich schlecht. Lieber die Englische kaufen und ein paar Wörter lernen.

Official: Daughters not really German

2013-02-13T07:57:00.002Z

We had friends over from Germany this week end. We handn't seen them for years and it was great to spend time. They also have two kids who are a bit older than BK1 and BK2, respectively.

BK1 and the older boy were a perfect fit while the younger girl mostly wussed around BK3. Overall they were all playing together really well. Happy days.

At some point we had a discussion about language and it was the first time that someone clearly expresses that my girls do not speak proper German. Unfortunately they are right, too, especially when it comes to BK2. Her grammar is particularly English.

My theory is that because BK2 grew up listening to all the same sources as BK1, except that she also had BK1 to listen to, she was exposed to more English than BK1. Also, we had to share our time between BK1 and BK2, while BK1 was alone for 2.5 years and had our full attention and thus language.

I am not concerned, because BK2 is perfectly able to express herself in German. I am also sure she'll be able to pick it up properly in no time should she ever want or need to. I'm just a bit sad.

After our friends had disappeared, I asked BK1 whether she got used to speaking German in the three days. For my ears she had definitely improved. Her response, though, was: "it's still difficult".

*Sigh*

We'll see where this all goes.

Musings on Spoken and Written Arabic

2013-02-12T10:16:00.001Z

I borrowed a couple of dual-language books from our library, in Arabic/English and French/English.

So, at bedtime, BK2 and BK1 asked me to read them التيوس الثلاثة الاخوة جروف , better known as The Three Billy Goats Gruff.

The girls already know the story in English and French. While I was reading the Arabic version, they kept asking what words and sentences meant, particularly BK2. I found myself translating into colloquial Arabic as I went along.

After a while, BK1 asked:
"Is this book written in Qbailia? (Berber language common in Algeria)"
Me: "No! It's Arabic, can you not tell?"
BK1: "Yes, but why is it different from the Arabic we speak?"
Me: "I agree, it sounds similar yet different. This is classical Arabic, whereas we speak Algerian Arabic, a colloquial form of the first".

At one point, I read طار في الهواء (tara fil hawaa) and I remarked: "Surely you understand this? We say the same thing: طار فلهوى (tar flahwa)" only to be met with a quizzical look: it's totally different!
Thinking about it, it's akin to similarities and differences between English and German (earth vs Erde) or between French and Spanish (terre vs terra). Being able to map words from one idiom to another does not necessarily mean understanding and mastering both languages.

BK1 reads French and German quite fluently, with no effort from our part other than providing her with books that elicit her interest.
It turns out that achieving literacy in Arabic is going to require quite a lot of input from me. The alphabet is the easy bit. Because of the pronounced differences between the Arabic we speak at home and classical Arabic, it is like learning a whole new language almost from scratch...

ps: BK2 is turning 5 this month, and BK1 will be 8 next month.

The Impossible Choice

2013-01-31T16:54:00.001Z

Our daughters' school started offering paid music lessons back in Ocotber. A guitar teacher comes in during school hours, and offers one-to-one tuition to children who sign up to the class.

Now, the school also offers piano tuition. Because the lessons come with a hefty fee, I've asked DD1 to choose between guitar and piano lessons.

She looked at me tearfully this morning: "I cannot choose. I want to play guitar because of Papy, and I want to play piano because of tante Regina".

I can imagine lots of children being faced with a similar dilemma, though it is more emotionally charged in our case. It reflects our perpetual state of being torn as a family between two countries, two cultures, two identities. It's like being asked whether you like your father or your mother best.

I am probably reading too much into it. But DD1's soul-searching on this matter is way too familiar, too unsettling. Leaving my country and marrying outside of my culture have made me cling to what ties me back to my upbringing. I am also acutely aware of the multicultural identity of my children.
As parents, we constantly question and adapt how we bring our children up. I feel parenting is even harder for us MultiKultis as we juggle our own respective cultures in a country which is alien to both of us.

The Sweetest Thing

2013-01-21T13:58:00.002Z

Our third daughter (aka BK3) is 26 months old, and her language skills are developing fast.

This morning, at the breakfast table, I prepared her bowl of cereal (crunchy oats with home-made greek yoghurt, yum!). I passed the bowl to BabelDad who gave it in turn to its rightful owner. BK3 thanked her dad: "Danke papa". BK1 noted that she should thank me too. BK3 then said: "Merci maman".
Effortless language switching = multilingualism en marche!

The other day, BK3 and I were sat on the sofa, reading a book. I could not resist kissing the top of her sweet-smelling head. She looked up at me and mumbled something.
Me: "Pardon?"
BK3: "Je t'aime"

Ahhhhhh

Your family or mine?

2012-12-22T17:21:00.002Z

Earth-shattering news: Prince William will spend Christmas with his wife's family!

One of the advantages of being from two different and distinct cultures is the absence of conflict on where to spend the holidays. No dilemma over whether to spend Christmas or Eid with the wife's or husband's family.
Also, when we are either in Algeria or Germany, there is no taking turns for the grandparents to see their grandchildren. We all stay in the same house, and have no rule over how often to visit the in-laws.

An Algerian friend of mine and her Algerian husband live in Canada with their young children. Every two years, they visit Algeria for a respectable six-week period. In order to satisfy everyone, the woman stays four days with her husband and his family, then takes her children and goes to stay with her own family for the remaining three days. And so on every week. She actually goes straight to her husband's family from the airport. I would personally find this hard, as the only thing I have in mind as soon as the plane lands is to see the faces of my beloved parents waiting for us at the airport.

There are some strong traditions in algeria, whereby a married woman "belongs" to her husband's family. It is not uncommon for a man to marry in Algeria, only to move abroad for work soon after the wedding, and the woman stay with his parent, even though her own family live nearby.

If Prince William had married someone from a completely different background, he would have totally avoided the dilemma of whether to spend Christmas with the Queen or with the Middletons. Mind you, I can think of worse dilemmas to have.

Food, Glorious Food!

2012-12-05T20:32:00.001Z

Today, I have literally been cooking up a storm, an international one for that matter: I am making a sticky gingerbread, Thamthunt (Algerian bread) and a veggie Lasagna.

Gingerbread

That's what happens when I'm hungry. Reason: I am fasting. I am making up for a couple of days I missed during Ramadan in August. The BabelDad is fasting too, out of solidarity. He makes fun of me. He says I am a cheat, as I choose the shortest days in the year to fast - sunset is at a measly 3.55 compared to the 10pm+ during summer.

Thamthunt

I tried to enlist BK3's help to keep her busy. But no, whisking eggs and weighing sugar are not good enough tasks for a two-year old. She absolutely needs to stir the hot treacle mix and flatten the bread with dirty hands! (rest assured, I did not let her).

Here I am trying to finish the Bechamel sauce, and tidy up the kitchen before fetching the older two from school. By now, BK3 is running wild, taking the pepper mill apart and climbing on the worktop.

Lasagna

Then, while I put the peanut butter jar in the fridge, her little voice goes:
"Maman, zidee khobz maa beurre de cacahuètes" (mum, more bread with peanut butter).

I was struck by the clarity, fluidity and length of this Franco-Arabic sentence.

What a joy to witness multilingualism developing for the third time in our house!

Languages in Primary Schools from 2014!

2012-12-01T12:00:00.002Z

I have just read Clare Seccombe's post where she rejoices that teaching languages in primary schools will be compulsory in Key Stage 2 (ages 7 to 11) from 2014.
This is following a public consultation, where the vast majority of respondents (91%) support the Government proposal. Responses are detailed in the consultation report dated 16th of November.

91%? This an overwhelming result! Or is it?
The number of respondents was: 318... 318? The government based their decision on the opinion of 318 people?

Don't take me wrong. I am absolutely chuffed by the outcome. In this instance, I think the right result has emerged. However, I am astonished by the low participation in the consultation, and even more so by the consultation being public in the first place!

First of all, I never heard of the consultation, which took place in July. The summer/Olympics combination could have been a big factor in the discretion. Having said that, I do not think it was publicised much, as I would otherwise have heard of it.

Second, why a public consultation? Why base the decision of what subjects to teach in primary school on a plebiscite?
In matters of education, I would hope decisions would be based on research, comparing studies and collating evidence in the relevant fields. An x-factor style vote, which is open to the whole population, seems hardly a constructive way to plan our children's education.

I do now see a point to Michael Rosen's plea to changing the way education policies are made...

In the meantime, I have just submitted my views on the second leg of the consultation: what languages to teach. The consultation started on the 16th of November, and will close on the 16th of December.

Wonder how many people will respond this time.

Hear the Northerners!

2012-11-27T12:34:00.003Z

We are at the breakfast table, going through BK1's spelling list.
BK1 brings a weekly list of 10 words to learn. The teacher then tests the children on how well they can spell their words.

I personally think this exercise has limited benefit, to say the least. Reading and writing are the most valuable tools to familiarise oneself with word patterns and rhythms, thus leading to good knowledge of how words are spelt.
But we play along.

This week, the list consists of words with "ea". Babeldad is saying the words, and BK1 is spelling them.
BabelDad: "Unheard"
BK1, correcting him: "Unheard!"
BK2, corroborating: "Unheard!!"

Listen to them say it, and guess who is from oop North :)

Family Language Diagram - November 2012

2012-11-27T10:24:00.002Z

Our family language diagram has changed, mainly because BK3 is now clearly speaking.

BK1 is still speaking all her 4 languages. English is definitely her mother tongue and I don't expect that to change unless we move to a different country at some point. She is pretty flexible and switches between her languages effortlessly. Her German is ok and understandable, but she hasn't seen the German part of the family for some time so she's rusty. Our Christmas trip will likely change that to some extent.

BK2 also speaks all her 4 languages, and English is even more clearly her mother tongue. She defaults to English, though, which BK1 does not do that much. Her level of German is almost on a par with BK1, not quite.

BK3 turned 2 a couple of weeks ago. She is clearly speaking with us, and she is definitely making a difference between languages. She uses different words for things depending on whether she speaks with me or the Babelwife. I reckon she has understood that we speak differently. I am not sure what she thinks of BK1 & BK2 and their way of speaking.

BK3 also has a tendency to use English when she's playing with BK1 or BK2, just like BK2 did when she started to speak. And the first time I heard her use a proper sentence it was in English ("put that down!" to one of her sisters).

So there we are, all going fine.

Am I Muslim?

2012-11-26T14:31:00.000Z

This post has been sitting in the drafts folder for over a month. I often find it tricky to discuss religion, ethnicity and cultural norms.
Here it is now, released in the wild.

Yesterday, the girls' school celebrated Eid. All children were to come in their Eid clothes or special clothes. The girls made Eid cards at school, and designed henna patterns.
How open-minded is that? I think it was a really cool idea. It was lovely for the girls to see their special feast recognised and celebrated outside our home.

The school itself is pretty ethnically-diverse, with possibly a fifth of its pupils descending from an ethnic minority. I wonder, do my daughters fall into this statistic? No simple answer to this question...

At the dinner table, the following conversation ensued - (BabelDad was still out at work):
BK2: "Zareen and Aliyah are muslim. I am not muslim."
BK1, emphatically: "Yes you are!"
BK2: "No, I am not Muslim, like Olivia"
BK1: "Yes you are!"
BK2: "No, I am not"
Me: "Why do you think you are not Muslim?"
BK2: "Because Muslims pray (joins her hands up), and go to the mosque"
Me, mulling this over: "Some Muslims do and some don't. I don't. Papy (my dad) prays and goes to the mosque."
BK1: "See, you are Muslim"
BK2: "Ok, I am Muslim"

BK1 and BK2 undoubtedly notice the differences between our family and those of the Muslim kids in their school. Most of their Muslim little friends are of pakistani origin.
I personally do not feel closer to the Pakistani culture than I do to the British one. Weirdly, I have to admit I probably relate more easily to the latter. After all, I've been living in Europe for the last fourteen years, twelve of which I've been sharing with a European bloke.

Wow! This multilingual/multicultural family affair brings up quite a lot of questions and (self-)questionings...

Food Terminology

2012-11-16T07:46:00.000Z

If you are new to the UK, be prepared to be confused at mealtimes. Lunch, dinner, tea, supper, luncheon, which one is when?

Algeria and France

In Algeria, the main three meals are called qahwa (coffee, whether you drink it or not), ftour (for midday meal, which also designates the evening meal to break Ramadan fast!), 'acha (the evening meal, similar to the word desingating the evening prayer).

In France, they are petit déjeuner, déjeuner and dîner.

In both Algeria and France, the midday meal is the most substantial one. When I lived in France, we used to have a two-hour midday break, encompassing a two or three course meal at a restaurant, plus coffee once back at work.
The customary Friday couscous in Algeria is infallibly served at midday, just before the Friday prayer.

Germany

When I first visited BabelDad's family in Germany, I literally starved during the day. I had to sneak out for a pretend walk in the fresh air at 2pm, only to ravenously gulp down a Döner Kebab. The main meal of the day in Germany, you guessed it, is the evening one. I made up for the lack of sustenance during the day by eating huge amounts of bread and cheese at frühstück, and loads of cake in the afternoon.

Northern England

In the UK, mealtimes can get a bit confusing. Be careful when you make an appointment with a plumber at dinner time, or tea time. If you are from a southern background like mine, you would naturally think dinner time is about 8pm and tea time about 4pm. Well, you would be surprised by the plumber turning up unexpectedly at noon or 6pm instead. Dinner in these necks of the wood is the midday meal. Tea is the evening meal, which in the UK is quite early at 5.30pm to 6pm.

So what's supper? Apparently, it is another evening meal, a couple of hours later than tea, for posh people (...), or for parents who have put their children to bed and now can enjoy a child-free meal. Note: we do have family meals in our house, at 6pm, but boy do I understand those parents who forego tea with children for a quiet supper!

And if you are wondering what the English call the drink tea time, there isn't a name, because you can enjoy a cuppa any time of the day. Off to have mine in my £10 porcelain mug. Because drinking tea for me has become one of the most frequent and enjoyable activities of the day.

BombFire night

2012-11-07T19:01:00.002Z

Every Autumn, the English celebrate Bonfire night, or as my four-year old girl appropriately calls it, BombFire night.
Fireworks can be seen and heard all over, from the end of October, culminating in huge bonfires and firework displays on the 5th of November: Guy Fawkes Night.

Incidentally, our third daughter was born on the 5th of November. So for the last two years, we have been celebrating her birthday with fireworks in the garden. How cool is this?

I choose to believe that the whole of England celebrates my daughter's birthday, rather than an obscure failed coup some 400 years ago!

So happy birthday to my bonfire child!

Multilingual Toddler

2012-11-06T14:23:00.002Z

BK1 woke up crying at 4 am, complaining of an earache. It turns out her nose was so congested that it hurt her ear!
While I was tending to BK1 in the room she shares with BK2, I heard BK3 in our bedroom leaving her own bed and climbing into ours.
BabelDad: "Meine Süße"
BK3: "Du schlaf. Mama."

BK3 was 2 yesterday. She is officially a multilingual toddler :)

Paris

2012-11-06T14:10:00.001Z

We spent our half term holidays in Paris, with my sister. her husband, her two children and my visiting parents. We had a great time with my family.

Ages ago, I lived in Paris for 8 months. I fled what I considered its dreary weather for sunny south of France.
Eight years and a half later in the North of England, and I now think Parisian weather is lovely...

Our week in Paris offered the girls a double immersion in Arabic and French. BK1 is increasingly confident while reading French books.
We also stocked up on French resources. I went to a brocante, and got loads of books and dvd's in French for a mere 40 euros.

I am glad we managed to fulfill BK1's wish to climb the Eiffel Tower. Paris, on a windy and sunny day, fabulous!

Babelkids

2012-10-29T13:17:00.001Z

BK1 to me: Papa, wann ist dein birthday?
Me: Am achtundzwanzigsten Februar
BK1: twenty eight?
Me: yup
BK1 runs off and tells her cousin who does not speak German or English: vingt-huit Fevrier!

We're on holidays in France. In case you wondered.

Oh Guitare Guitare

2012-10-10T15:53:00.002+01:00

BK1 has taken up guitar lessons at school. The BabelDad is being all posh: "guitar players are so tacky! they sit around the fire and strum on their guitars to get the girls". He is unswerving, even when reminded that our own respective fathers play the guitar.

To counteract BK1's enthusiasm for the proletarian instrument, the BabelDad has splashed on a second-hand electronic piano, which apparently used to belong to Peter Gabriel; he even composed Sledge Hammer on it. Yeah right.

So, for the last week, we have been listening to Oh Guitare, Guitare by Enrico Macias. BK1 was intrigued by some unfamiliar words, reminding me how powerful songs can for learning a language:

Si j'ai mis dans ton coeur andalou

trop de soupirs à ton goût

chasse au loin tes sanglots superflus

This takes me back some thirty years ago; my parents have a collection of Enrico Macias' vinyls, and my dad often strums Enrico's songs on his guitar. Incidentally, I can't help being touched by Enrico's complex identity, a topic for another day...

The girls seemingly enjoy the oriental rhythms and catchy lines of Macias' music. They particularly like Les Filles de Mon Pays. I have told them that they are themselves some of Les Filles Enrico praises. After all, he is originally from Algeria, and they are Algerian too.

BK2's favourite bit of the live version of Les Filles de Mon Pays is a surprising verse at the end of the song... in Kabyle!

Sharing the music of my childhood with my own children gives me so much joy!

A Polite Baby

2012-09-26T12:37:00.000+01:00

BK3, at 22 months, is so polite. Whenever I or BabelDad hand her something, she invariably says: "Merci" or "Danke".

Her politeness is far greater than her sisters', particularly BK1's. I blame it on Unconditional Parenting - one of my favourite parenting books.

When BK1 was a toddler, I never made a big fuss about thank you and please. I trusted that she would realise in time that being polite and courteous to others would be more agreeable than being curt and bossy.

More often than not, she now does use polite language. In English. She tends to forget to say Merci, S'il te plait, Bitte, Danke etc to us, her family.

BK2 seems to be doing a bit better on this front. I don't have to remind her often to say please and thank you to us and to her sisters.

Anyway, going back to BK3, she was tired last night, ready to go to bed.
BK3: "Tétée!"*
Me, having just fed her an hour earlier: "Non!"
BK3, in a soft imploring voice: "S'il te plait..."

This has got to be one of the cutest things she's ever said :)

* And to those wondering what tétée means, yes BK3 is a breastfeeding toddler :)

Musical snobbery?

2012-09-12T19:31:00.005+01:00

The following post has got nothing to do with raising children multilingually. So feel free to skip it. I won't be offended, I promise :)

Some of my British friends are reliving their teenage years, as they, slowly but surely, approach the Big Four O. They attend gigs of bands I never heard of before: The Stone Roses, Inspiral Carpets, The Smiths...

I, too, am highly tempted to shell out £82 to go to a live concert. Of George Michael. George Michael, I hear my friends say? George flipping Michael? If I could, I would make fun of myself. I mean the guy has done some disgraceful stuff in his private life, and some of his music is not all that good, to say the least.
This is what my 37-year old self thinks.

Still, my 14-year old self was literally in love with the guy. I had his posters all over my room, and was stalking every little piece of press mentioning him.

I am talking of a time where the only western modern music reaching a third-world teenager was that of the usual suspects: Madonna, Michael Jackson, Elton John, Sting, Whitney Houston etc.

I credit Kissing a Fool, Sacrifice and Like a Prayer for a lot of my 18/20 grade in English at my Baccalaureate. I spent many hours carefully writing the lyrics in my beloved lyrics books, and singing the songs at the top of my lungs, along videos on M6 and tunes on Radio Chaine 3.

Needless to say that on top of the mainstream "English" music, I listened to Polyphene, Raina Rai, Khaled, Ait Menguellet, Maatoub, Idir, Enrico Macias, Francis Cabrel, Jean-Jacques Goldman, Jacques Brel, les Negresses Vertes...

For someone who grew up in a third world country, I actually pride myself on my western musical "savvyness". I now listen to The Strokes, The Chemical Brothers and Crystal Fighters - mainly because this is what BabelDad listens to.

So, remember: next time you meet someone who likes George Michael, there is a good chance they have (at least) a second musical culture.

ps: I am thankful to my friends for helping me discover Northern-English culture. Let's hear it for Clint Boon and mushy peas!

Report on Linguistic Effects of our Algerian Adventures

2012-09-11T15:41:00.001+01:00

As expected, our month-long stay in Algeria has had beneficial effects on the children's fluency in Arabic and French.

BK3 is the perfect illustration of how easy it is to be monolingual. We've been immersed in this multilingual thing for so long, it has almost become second nature. How lovely it was to hear BK3 repeat all words in Arabic and use them. How easy it was not to wonder what language she is using. And how liberating to drop my attention to giving a fair exposure to the minority language.
BK3's vocabulary, mostly in Arabic and partly in French, just exploded during our stay. She also began to string words together to say things like: "Arwahi lahna" (come here) .

BK2 has started making complete sentences in French, thanks to Nickelodeon Jnr. Who said TV was bad? She now says things like: "Je suis trop occupée maintenant, je ne peux pas manger", (I am too busy now, I cannot eat), or "Je ne veux pas passer toute la journée à peindre, peindre est très difficile" (I don't want to paint all day, painting is very hard).
Of course she makes mistakes: "Je dore maman" instead of j'adore maman. But hey, she is 4 and a half and muddles through four languages!

BK1's accent in Arabic is slightly less pronounced. She still struggles with some guttural sounds. As with the other two, her vocabulary both in Arabic and French increased. She is also more confident in her ability to make herself understood in Arabic. Arabic sentences flow more easily. Here she is in our garden a week ago, back in England.

ps: BK1 is 7.5, BK2 is 4.5 and BK3 is 22 months.

Less German

2012-08-16T10:03:00.000+01:00

The Babelwife has been in Algeria for 3 weeks now with the Babelkids and I'm finally joining them later today.

Babelkids were obviously very excited yesterday evening when I called them. They even asked the Babelwife to give me another call when they went to bed, so they could say good night. Bless them.

I spoke with BK1 and BK2 briefly in the afternoon. It had be a long time, almost 2 weeks. (We kept our calls very brief because there is currently no landline phone where they are, stolen cable apparently, don't ask.)

I noticed that both BK1 and BK2 had lost some of their fluency in German, as they always do during the summer holidays when they're immersed completely into an Arabic-speaking environment.

Interestingly BK2 lost a lot more than BK1 this year, and now I'm wondering why that might be.

Does it help that BK1 has been speaking German for a lot longer than BK2? Probably. Maybe the time when she was the only child we had was crucial, too? I'm convinced BK1 had less English around her when she was little.

I reckon it is a combination of those two.

Whatever it is, I'm happy to see them later and I'm sure all kids will find back to their usual level of German quickly.

Counting at preschool

2012-07-16T19:50:00.002+01:00

At perschool, children sit down for storytime, and sing the same song: "one, two, one, two, it's story time, it's story time".

Recently, they did uno, dos, uno, dos. Yesterday, BK2 went: "wahed, nein, wahed, nein". I casually pointed to her that two in Arabic is not nein but ithnein. She replied: "this is not arabic, it's welsh!". I stand corrected.