Arabic Mistakes by Sarah

One of my favorite things about learning languages is making funny mistakes. (Not on purpose, of course!) There are few things as funny as a good linguistic error; and, on the educational side, retelling the stories of your errors solidifies the correct phrase or word.

Lucky for me, I make a lot of mistakes. There was the time last summer, in Tajikistan, when I tried to ask a girl in Tajiki, “Do you want to take a husband (i.e. get married)?” In fact, I asked her “Do you want to EAT a husband?” Maybe I haven’t quite matched the hilariousness of that mistake here in Morocco, but here are two contenders. (My two classmates, Emi and Shannon, have heard these already.)

1.       THE WOLF

Early in the program, my Arabic level was pretty far below that of my classmates and my class. Often, I could only pick up a little of what was being said. Anyway, one day, my teacher, Brahim, asked us in Arabic, “What’s your favorite hiwaya?” My friend Shannon answered first, and I didn’t really understand her answer. Then Brahim asked me about my favorite hiwaya.

                Hiwaya… I had learned that word the other day. Animal. I asked in Arabic, “Teacher, how do you say ‘wolf’?”

                “Wolf? Why?”

                He—and Shannon and Emi—were giving me the strangest looks.

                “Yes, wolf! My favorite hiwaya is wolf.”

                Someone broke out in incredulous English, “Your favorite hobby is wolf?!”

Yeah… turns out hiwaya is hobby; animal is hiyawan. Oops.   

2.       HAJJ

A few weeks later, my classmates were sick, so I had a one-on-one class with Brahim. At one point I asked (in Arabic, of course) what he had done after class the day before. I didn’t understand every word of my teacher’s answer, but I got the gist of it; he had talked on the phone with his friend. The friend really wanted to go to Mecca (this was the time of year, after all, when everyone was talking about making the hajj), but couldn’t, because he was busy.

                I was really sorry to hear this and began an outpour of sympathy. “Oh, poor man,” I said. “But inshallah he can go next year?”

                Brahim looked extremely confused. “Next year?”

                “Yes! Inshallah he can go next year!” I really didn’t see what was so strange about what I was saying.

                “To the…. maqha?”

                I turned red. In fact Brahim’s friend hadn’t wanted to go to Mecca; he wanted to go to a maqha, a café. “Poor man!” I had exclaimed. “Maybe he can go to the café next year—inshallah!!!”