Chapter 1

The Difference Between “Story” & “Lady of the Night”

Day 65 of my imprisonment…… Just kidding. I always wanted to start off with that though. It seems only fit to try to shine a bit of light on the Arabic language for you. Then and only then will this situation/story truly bring a stitch in your side from laughter.

Arabic has several letters that, to the untrained ear (my ear), sound almost identical. Heavy t, normal t, heavy d, normal d, heavy h, and the normal h, and the list goes on. One of the kickers though is the “q.” The Q is a “k” sound that comes from the back of your throat. BUT in different dialects it changes. For instance, the Gulf Regions and among the Bedouin they pronounce it as a “g” sound. You know, like “gut.” Other places, like in the Levant and Egypt, they leave it our all together.

So the word for pen (Qalem), depending where you are, could be said as, qalem, galem, or ‘alem. Confused? Good. Now, if you use the Q sound you have to get it from the back of your throat or it comes out as a K sound and that, of course, changes it to a completely different word all together.

I spent a lot of time around a couple of Bedouin when we first got here, so I tend to pronounce the Q as a G now. So where most of my classmates say “qalem” or “’alem” I say “galem.” Well, I’ve noticed that when I say words in class some of my classmates don’t understand it because of my accent, so in class I try to switch while I’m talking from using the G back to the Q. Because of that I sometimes don’t get the Q to go back enough in my throat and it comes out a K. Make since?

Good, now on with the thing you are to be laughing at. One day we were telling stories. So I go on with my story. It’s starts of with me saying, “This is my story” and later on I say, “and in this story such and such happened” and “the point to this story is such and such.” Well the whole time I am trying to hide my Gulfi/Bedioun “G” and replace with the more widely accepted Q, but apparently it kept coming out weak and as a K, because every time I would say “story” the teacher would smirk and try not to laugh.

So I learned a new word that day. Here is what I learned from my “story.”

“Qussa” means “story”
“Kussa” literally means “whore” or the most vulgar word you can come up with for prostitute.

With that said, because of my weak Q that came our as K, go back up to the previous paragraph and replace “story” with well….you get the picture.

Funny eh? Well, yeah. It was funny.

Serial Non-Fiction

This is my attempt at serial writing. I will do my best, you hear me, my best to publish a chapter a day for the next several days. No promises, but I will try to get a new one up each day. I just waited too long and I have too much to write, so I am going to break it up so you don’t have to read a novel today in order to catch up. You can read each installment as you like.

Now when I say chapter, please don’t be expecting something well polished and/or lengthy. Are you kidding me, remember this is my blog, not some learned, grammar person who actually knows English. The more Arabic I learn, the more I realize how much English I don’t really know.

Anyways… let us begin.

My Adventures in Learning Arabic
A Novel by Abu Noah

[page turn]

This weak attempt at a book is dedicated to all the poor souls that have been attacked and killed by the Arabic Bear. We’ve shed our tears together as well as our answers to the tests, we've lost sleep as well as several appendages do to that nasty creature along the way, but still we limp on….

[page turn]

Table of Contents

1.The Difference Between “Story” & “Lady of the Night”
2.The Stewardess, the Dragon, and the Upset Criminal
3.The Conversation that doesn’t Translate
4.The Day I Hoped Would Never Come

[page turn]

Chapter One
The Difference Between "Story" & "Lady of the Night"

coming soon

hang in there kids...

Hang in there. It's been a week + and nothing new. Keep coming back. I've got funny English conversations, horrible bloopers in Arabic, and a Noah video pending.

I'll get some time this week (insha'allah) and get them to you. Keep coming back.

Big Daddy Smiles

Noah has been smiling for about week, but he has been tricky to catch on camera. The flash makes him laugh and smile, but by the time we get the next picture taken he has stopped laughing or smiling and then it flashes again. On and on the cycle goes until we were able to get some serious gut laughs and voila! Pictures abound!


What a kid! He is getting really good at talking too. He seems to be fluent in gibberish. We are still working on it though. The grammar isn't that bad, but the spelling is killin' us.

Cultural Quirks

This may be an eye opening post for some of you. Hang in there till the end.

Two things:

#1 - First, because we live in the desert we are always on water restrictions. Not like the wimpy kind you get if you live in Dallas and there is a drought. "If you water your yard between 10am and 6pm we will fine you." No, I am talking about once a week they fill up your water tank on your roof, and if you run out before that day next week then guess what? It stinks. YOU AIN'T GOT NO WATER!!! No potty flushing, no showers, no brushing your teeth, dirty dishes piling up, the WORKS!!!

(Sorry for the "drama-queen" approach, but do you get the picture?)

Anyway, this morning I was in the shower and the water pressure went way down and it got really hot. Apparently we still had some water in our hot water heater, but by the time lunch today rolled around we had nothing but drips.

So feel sorry for us, I guess. We get water every Wednesday, so it's only a night without it.

#2 - Arabs, well good Arabs, don't interact between the genders in public. They don't. It's culturally inappropriate. So many times you will see Arabs girls walking arm in arm through the mall or Arab guys walking holding hands. Yeah, that's right. Read that last sentence again to make sure you got it. Now, repeat after me, "It's not bad, it's just different." or if you are freaking out thinking about it, say, "It's not gay, it’s just different." It is culturally appropriate for them. They are completely straight, normal people. That is just how they express their friendship.

It has gotten to be a normal thing for me to walk around the mall and see tough looking Arab men walking hand in hand. That doesn't give me the eebie geebies, BUT when I am with my Arab friends and they grab my hand....ewwww. I still freak out about it.

Then of course you have that awkward "when do you let go" moment and so on and so forth. It's like being a jr. high kid with your first girlfriend at the homecoming game all over again. "Oh, she let go, does that mean she doesn't want to hold hands now? Or do I reach for her hand? When do I? Have I made her mad?" You know, stuff like that.

So Sunday night I walked through the mall like a tough guy holding hands with another man. Go ahead, take a second to finish laughing....



I'll wait... no problem.




So, that is hard enough, because, honestly, I don't really like it. I mean, it really is a great honor for an Arab guy to hold your hand. It means that you really are friends, straight friends. But come on!!! I grew up in America! I'm not gay. In America gay guys hold hands. Yuck!

So, I am walking around the mall holding hands with a guy and I see some American friends of mine. They are laughing and having a great time at my expense. Why? Because they've all been there before, but still it makes you feel all the gayer when you see someone you know.

So I got no water and I walk around the mall holding guys' hands......

what a life.

Musings on a Pumpkin Patch

Today as I was sitting in class trying to focus my mind to the task at hand [Arabic Grammar] I got the overwhelming urge to visit a pumpkin patch. Which, in and of itself, is pretty strange to me considering I don't know that I have ever been to a pumpkin patch. At least it didn't stick in my memory if I have. The closest thing I can recall is the big pumpkin stash at Hulen Mall in Fort Worth during the fall . Some nice pumpkin producers sell them to all the big city folk, and it always brings joy to my heart to see all the big fat round fellows just sitting there waiting (I am talking about the pumpkins themselves, not the producer farmers). I vaguely remember as a child one year getting seed packets for giant pumpkins with my brother. I don't know what ever happened to those pumpkins if we ever grew them. I guess I don't have a green thumb, or in this case an orange one. Those seeds couldn't have produced the colossal pumpkins they promised or I would remember... Unless I got squashed by one as it was rolling by and then perhaps my mind has created a pumpkin block. Which may be the reason I don't like pumpkin pie as much as I used to come to think of it. As I was sitting musing on pumpkin patch visitations I began to draw pumpkins on my notes. And then I got in trouble by the teacher for not paying attention. I don't know how she knew, perhaps by the drool running down my open mouth and pooling on my chin. Needless to say, all this pumpkin talk got me to missing pumpkins, the real kind, not the cantaloupe colored , half pumpkin/half gourd variety we have here. So I thought I would give y'all a small glimpse into my minds eye. Here are some photographic examples of my thought process. Picture #1: The pumpkin patch I want to visit. Picture #2: The closest thing I will get to it this year.

What I would like to hear: What was your favorite Halloween costume you ever wore? Or, what is the coolest Halloween costume you have ever seen?

-B-

Noah & Friends Video

Here is no-holds-barred, unedited, unadulterated Noah. No gimmicks, no fancy music, just Noah laying in the crib talking to his friends. This is probably more for the grandparents than anyone else, but Noah fans around the world are always welcome to view and "goo" and "gaa" over him.

Noah & Friends

Lion Hunting Video

Hunting lions can be difficult. Take a tour of our facilities and we'll show you how to catch and tame these viscious and ferocious creatures like a pro.

Lion Hunting Video

On The Way To School

If we are to be on time to school, then we have to leave at 8:10 by the latest. So far the earliest we've made it is leaving the house today at 8:15. I forgot something so B went ahead and I went back and got it and then was trying to catch up with her.

*B, doesn't like being late. Being late drives her crazy. I, on the other hand, haven't been on time to anything. This is probably one of the big kickers in us being married. She tells me to hurry up and I tell her to relax, she gets mad and I hurry up.....sometimes.

I am telling you this, because when we are late B gets into hyper-space drive and is off and I am running to keep up and trying to be quite, so she won't hit me and abuse me verbally.....just checking to see if you were awake. But seriously, I can't keep up with B when she is walking to get somewhere when we are late.

So, alas, me walking to catch up with her this morning was in vain. I was walking as fast as I could and she kept getting smaller and smaller in my view.

So here are my observations on the way to school today, because I finally gave up and went back to moseying along at my usual, turtle pace:

[We pass three schools on the way to ours, so that is why they are labeled school 1,2 and 3.]

School #1 - so far everyday we have gone to school we have been late. Every day we have been late we've walked by school #1 and I hear them singing inside or chanting the national anthem or whatever they do and I always see a girl maybe 14 or 15 walking quickly towards school. Not a B-paced walk, but you can tell she is late. I can't help but smile at someone in my same boat. We have an understanding. Us slow-pokes have to stick together.

School #2 - So I smile to my fellow tardee and round the corner. As I am passing by the little corner store I hear, "Ca-lie-tun, Ca-lie-tun." As I turn to look, one of my teacher's 16 year old sons is running up to me. I asked him why he wasn't in school. He told me that school #2 needed something so they sent him to go to the market to get it. That would never work in America. You send them out, they wouldn't come back.

School #3 - As I am approaching school #3 I see two little boys standing by the gate looking in. They are about waist-high old. Both of them are looking through the gate into school. As I walk by something happened and one boy's hand got pinched in the gate and apparently from his accusations it was the other one's fault. I keep walking by and all I could understand were the words "stupid" and "donkey." As I was rounding the corner I looked back and both boys were on the ground with fists ablur. They were engaged in the battle of the ages to save ones honor. After I rounded the corner and was half a car’s length away the battle of the ages obviously had stopped as quickly as it began and I began to hear crying, so either the little boy got his revenge or he just learned that his little buddy had a nasty left hook.

School #4 - I arrive at school and soon it is me crying because the Arabic bear is eating me, but that's a normal everyday thing.

Fiwst Day of Class

[this only works if you read this like a little kid who can't say his "r"s]

Hewwo, my name is Nowah. Twuday I went to schowal wid Momma and Daddy.

Daddy was so excited last night, hims picked out my cwothes and made shuwar I had eberweeting in my stwoller.

Mommy fed me at sefen tirty then Daddy dwessed me and gowt me weady this mowning. I wor a bwu sirt wid a barown monky on it. For the first time I wor pants and docs. I had some barown pants and white docs on ober my foots.

Then we woaded the swoller and off we went down the stweet. I was the youngest won there and the ownwee Amewacian. I was in the nuwsewy wid twu weally cute Awabs giwls. I hope they wike me.

I went to sleep and Mommy and Daddy went to class. They told me when I woke up on the way home that it was a good day of class but would be hawd.

I wanted to show you a pictur of my koot outfit but I ate too much and got it diwty.

Awl and awl, the fiwst day wasn't that bad.