Breaking the Language Barrier

Is there anything more humbling than trying to learn a foreign language? In my mother tongue I am a reasonably competent adult. I can use a full palette of words to express complex ideas, listen for nuance and paint verbal images. By contrast, in Vietnamese I can say "Here is the yellow butterfly," and even then, I'm probably mispronouncing it. Not exactly the stuff of great conversation.

I have now spent two weeks of quality time with the CD "Sing n' Learn Vietnamese." I walk around the house humming the tunes to "Who Do You Love" and "Mr. Toad." They're in my head when I wake up in the morning; I can even play them on the piano. But the words? Stubbornly, tenaciously, utterly elusive. They just won't stick.

Part of the challenge is that Vietnamese is a tonal language. There are six tones. To further complicate things, each word is only one syllable. So each syllable can be pronounced six different ways, and each one is a different word. "Mother," "horse," and "rice seedling" are dangerously similar (ma, ma, ma), and I'm sure there are other syllables that are even more hazardous. I'm afraid to think what could happen when I try to read something on a menu.

But - and I'm going to wax philosophical for a minute - it seems to me that language barriers, while they're frustrating at times, also offer the gift of a different kind of communication. Sometimes it's tempting to hide behind words. Instead of connecting us, they can keep us at arm's length. We use them to portray ourselves the way we want to be seen; we use them to keep the conversation superficial. By contrast "conversation" without a common language can strip away all of the veneers and allow people to meet at the most basic, real level. Instead of exchanging pleasantries, we can exchange looks and smiles. Instead of speaking with our words, we can speak with our hearts. That kind of communication is so rich.

I recently ran across a quote from Fred Rogers (yes, that Fred Rogers, from Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood) that sums it up beautifully: "The older I get, the more convinced I am that the space between people who are trying their best to understand each other is hallowed ground."

Perhaps sometimes our shortcomings are really just strengths in clown costumes. If that's the case, language-wise, I've got a whole circus traveling with me. And I think we're going to have a wonderful time.