After reading about wildly differing Arabic dialects, I expected nothing but linguistic disaster when I came to Egypt. I hoped I would be understood, but I thought مصري was going to be as comprehensible to my ears as French. However, when I went and started talking, I was surprised; conversations were not an exercise in hand gestures and exaggerated syllables. Changing the ج to Giim and the ق to ء takes mental processing, but with a little lag, a مصري sentence can be mentally translated into Fusha, and a Fusha reply has been perfectly adequate for understanding.
Coming to Egypt proves utility of Fusha for the travelling Arabic speaker. Lapses into نجدي Arabic have been universally unsuccessful. Anything in my pseudo-gulf colloquial, like أبغى or وش was either a subject of quaint amusement or blank stares. Fusha also means that the ‘expat Arabic’ dialect is also easily understandable. Regardless of origin, it seems that almost all foreigners learn a Fusha and only switch out the most common 30 عامية words as they live in the region. This applies to Chinese in Riyadh, Germans in Damascus, or Americans in Cairo. The only other real change is swapping a few letter sounds- and a pseudo-local accent is born. Ultra-common words like زين، عيز، and فراخ can be inferred from the surrounding Fusha sentence, and then ‘expat-Arabic’ is easy.
If only there were an actual visa that could gain access to the entire Arab world!
Finally, the most important part about using Fusha outside of an adopted عامية region is that it’s an acceptable, if stuffy, dialect to native speakers. For an English analogue, using نجدي outside of Saudi Arabia would be like using a thick Indian accent in America. It could be understood, but it conjures many stereotypes and can inhibit transmitting any form of subtlety. Fusha, on the other hand, is talking like the Economist about a cheeseburger- certainly out of place, but mostly understood and still possibly respected.
While I still may resent many hours spent learning the dual and ‘arab, my trip to Cairo reminds that Fusha still serves as the only real linguistic passport in the Arab world.
For the عيد we had a week off, meaning no interviews and the chance to travel far afield. So I took a vacation to Sri Lanka. Surprisingly, I used a little Arabic almost every day. First, there are many Sri Lankans that worked in Saudi Arabia and they know a little bit of the language. Also I ran into a expatriate travelers in Negumbo, and met three Saudi girls while sipping coffee at a luxury resort in Galle.
Arabic may not be a quite a ‘global language’ but speaking it can help in more and more places.
I was sitting at Starbucks, going over new vocabulary from موسم الهجرة إلى الشمال when I ran across “شجرة الطلح”. Hans Wehr didn’t help, saying it was either an Acacia tree or a banana tree and context didn’t help distinguish. So, I leaned over to the Saudis sitting next to me and ask them if they knew what type of tree شجرة الطلح is. The first leaned over the book examining the paragraph. Then each Saudi shrugged his shoulders as he passed the novel around hoping one knew the precise meaning. None of them did. As they handed the book back and I sat down to continue, they first complimented me “ولله تتكلم كويس″ and then I heard them talking amongst themselves: “It’s great that he’s learning Arabic!”
This experience is a microcosm of the best part of learning Arabic: Arabic speakers love it when foreigners learn Arabic, and forgive even atrocious mistakes. It makes sense, as the range of Arabic is so wide that they can hear strange accents or odd vocab from native speakers. I often hear Saudis kindly insisting my accent is “مغربي” even though I’ve never been within 1000 miles of Morrocco; (Lebanese is also often assumed due to my complexion and bits of لهجة شامية) Moreover, the range of Arabic is so wide that they are forgiving when we have poor accents or use odd words. Especially in literature, it’s not uncommon for stubborn words such as شجرة الطلحto be outside the active vocabulary of an ‘educated native speaker’. So when we don’t know a word, it’s not a surprise. Most importantly, native speakers always try to help, always compliment any hint of a “لهجة ممتازة”, and are always appreciative of every effort we take to learn the language.
According to the State Department, I became fluent in Arabic two months ago. Yesterday, I accidentally convinced the first Saudi that I was Lebanese based on my language ability. But four months into working at the State Department I feel like I’m spinning my wheels and at best not losing ground with Arabic.
It could be that work occupies so much time and Arabic is a jealous mistress. I’m used to spending 50 hour weeks studying Arabic like I did in January. Now, those 50 hours go to the embassy, and I’m lucky if I study an hour a day. Even though I’m using Arabic in interviews, I can’t push the boundaries of my knowledge like I did with intense study. Since coming to Riyadh, I’ve struggled to even review vocab for 15 minutes a day. So, I’m starting to forget vocab that I learned while in Damascus in May. Also disheartening, I have not finished a single book since coming to Riyadh a month ago compared to 5 for my three months in living in DC.
Also, the sense of success from passing an Arabic test for pay bonus has faded into pessimism about future progress. The State Department’s language institute always emphasizes that deep knowledge of a language takes orders of magnitude more time than superficial understanding. On average, progressing each additional level on the ILR scale takes as long as the combined time spent studying the language so far. So according to State guidelines, if it takes 3040 hours to go from nothing to a 3/3, it will take another 3040 hours to go from here to a 4/4. If I were to view the problem purely in terms of vocabulary, gaining appreciably more understanding of the language means learning thousands more obscure words, rather than hundreds. The good news is that I have a year in Saudi Arabia to absorb as much Arabic as I can. The bad news is that the path of learning has shifted from a sprint to a marathon.
After 1506 hours of study (so far) I’m finally using Arabic rather than studying it. On one hand, it is extraordinarily gratifying that all the time spent studying is being put to positive use. On the other, it reminds me of how far I have to go.
At the window, Arabic is invaluable. A quarter of people I talk to don’t speak English على الإطلاق, and most are more comfortable with my Arabic than their English. Yet using Arabic professionally is different than studying, as the focus shifts from learning everything within reach to learning few things very well. The best example is some of the set phrases repeatedly used throughout the day:
رقم ستة و ستين إلى شباك إحدة عشرة لو سمحت
Or my personal favorite: لازم أن تتكلمي بصوت عالي جداً لو سمحتِ من الصعب أن أسمع صوتك
Even if I say them wrong, these phrases are no longer separate words to compose every time. They’ve merged into a single thought that comes out as fast as my tongue can get through ع’s and ح’s. Hopefully, I will be able to expand this chunking to other parts of the language, but only time will tell if I become better at the language as a whole or just some lines of questions and answers.
I’m about to head to the Kingdom, and I want to pack light. So the books that I have finished are not coming with me. If you want any of them, just write a comment below with your name and a way of getting in contact with you. If you are the first person to claim a book, I’ll contact you and then send the book to you via media mail within a week or two. Please only claim one book until everyone has a chance.
The books are:
كأنها نائمة: إلياس خوري
بنات الرياض: رجاء عبدالله الصانع
هاري بوتر و حجرة الاسرار
هاري بوتر و سجين ازكبان
هاري بوتر و كأس النار
هاري بوتر و جماعة العنقاء
هاري بوتر و الإمير الهجين
هاري بوتر و مقدسات الموت
“You Americans, you learn some Arabic, we learn a little English. We can all be friends.”
It had been a particularly tough day, the verbs and the vocabulary taking their toll.
But somehow this image spurred me on.
I feel like this correspondant makes the atmpsphere seem a little more hardworking than what I remember, but maybe I was just lazy 
Grossly Simplified answer:
3040 Hours
Obvious answer: it depends!
In order qualify this number, ‘learning Arabic’ must be defined. The easiest benchmark is a 3/3 score on the State Department Fusha test using the ILR Scale. (For a detailed analysis on what this score means, go to the ILR site.) When the State Department trains new Foreign Service Officers in Arabic, it always schedules 3040 hours of study spread out over two years of full time training.
The program is broken up as follows: A new officer starts with 8 months of full time study using alif-baa and the al-kitaab series. Each week the officer spends 25 hours in class with 2 to 6 students with 15 hours of homework. The goal of the first eight months is to reach the basic level of communication- a 2 in speaking (S) and a 1 in reading (R). Then, the officer spends another 44 weeks in Tunis with the goal of reaching a 3S-3R. That makes a grand total of 3040 hours. The reason this number has any validity is that the State Department has been training hundreds of native English speakers Arabic for decades. To compare, an average year of college study is 450 hours, assuming 5 hours of class and 10 hours of homework a week.
Unfortunately, 3040 can be optimistic. It assumes full time study, a year of immersion in an Arab country, classes of no more than six, and students who have a direct career and financial motivation to study diligently.
But don’t despair! The FSI says that a motivated and talented student can learn Arabic in less time, and the current program director informed me that while rare, students have reached a 3 in speaking after only the first 8 month course.
Arabic version is here.
For some reason, the Al-Kitaab series starts with a book that doesn’t use this title. Before reading ‘part one’ it’s necessary for the Arabic student to read Alif-Baa. This book presents and teaches the alphabet in a relatively straightforward manner with some vocabulary thrown in. The goals of Alif-Baa are much more modest than the other books in the series, which cover grammar and the language as a whole. As such, Alif-Baa is smaller and takes much less time to complete. Still, in terms of the limited goals, Alif-Baa succeeds and is probably the best book for teaching the Arabic alphabet to native English speakers.
First, the book includes a DVD which explains proper pronunciation, a perennial problem for every student, at the same time that it teaches writing the characters. Second the few vocabulary items are useful and some are referenced in the remainder of the series. Third, the exercises contained in Alif-Baa are useful for retaining knowledge. For these simple reasons Alif Baa is the best choice for an aspiring Arabic student, despite its high price.
When I used this book in 2005, I spent about 15 hours going through it and learned around 20 words.
4/5 Stars
Appropriate Level: 0 to 0+
لماذا تترجع نفسك؟
أدرس في سورية حالياً و إلى ذلك أعتقد أن من الضروري أن أستعمل اللغة العربية بدلاً من اللغة الإنجليزية من أجل التعليم . و على هذا أحاول أن أكتب كل شي بالعربية أولاً قبل أن أترجمها إلى أنجليزية. بلا ريب هنالك أخطأ كثيرة و لكن مع ذلك إحتاج إلى التجربة.
I’m studying in Syria, and I think it’s necessary that I use Arabic instead of English for the sake of learning. So, everything is written in Arabic first and then translated into English. There are certainly many mistakes, but I need the practice.
