Before I came to Morocco I had all these grand dreams of mastering the local dialect of Arabic, called Darija, and eventually moving on to study Classical Arabic and maybe even French. After two years however, I’m still a novice at Darija.
The reasons for this are manifold. Firstly, my brain was never quite wired for languages (as made testament by French being the bane of my GPA in both high school and college.) Secondly, as I’ve suspected all along but have recently confirmed with visiting Moroccans, my village has a really strong accent that even other Moroccans have a difficult time understanding. So my linguistic foundation of the language I learned in training might often not apply to the way people speak in my town, causing difficulty for both me as a speaker and as a listener. It may not be this extreme, but think of someone from England trying to speak with someone from New Orleans; technically the same language, and yet worlds apart. Thirdly, try as I might, it has been nearly impossible for me to find a (female) tutor in my town!
Of course I wish I were better at Darija. With “baby Darija” my topics of discussion are limited to things like family, the weather, and cooking- which hardly leaves room for a deep connection with someone. And though I knew this theoretically before I came here, living here has helped me know experientially, taking the time to learn someone’s language is the most effective way to prove your intentions.
But despite being technically bad at the language, I am proficient at making myself understood and understanding. I use what I have, try my best, and if I’m speaking with an empathetic listener, somehow we magically understand each other. People can tell I’m trying and that I care, and I think that’s what matters the most to them. It is rather embarrassing though, especially when the average Moroccan speaks a minimum of two languages. And it is not uncommon to meet someone speaking three or four. And here I am struggling with my first second language!
Photo: Amazigh father encourages his young daughter to say hello to me in Darija.
But language in Morocco is increasingly controversial. Having once been colonized by the French, the French language is one of Morocco’s national languages, which comes with a load of emotions. Understandably, many Moroccans feel a certain kind of way about the former oppressor’s language maintaining such a stronghold in the country. And that’s a characteristic of colonization: the colonizer forcing the colonized to learn your language, as if showing up uninvited and taking their resources wasn’t degrading enough.
In addition to the conflict over French being a national language, the people group native to Morocco’s land have historically had their languages overlooked by the government. The Amazigh people (or the less politically correct, but more widely known term, the Berber people) inhabited the lands that are now known as Morocco long before the Arab migration started in the late 600′s AD.
Photo: Chracterized by geometrical shapes, the Amazigh style of henna is different from the flowery Arab style.
In fact, the indigenous languages (there are three that I know of, but there could be more) have not only been overlooked, but at certain points in modern history, oppressed. Though the policy was recently overturned by the King, it used to be illegal to name a child born in Morocco an Amazigh name. And even with the law overturned, there are still many people with authority who refuse to accept an Amazigh name for a birth certificate. And though there are many villages in Morocco who only speak Amazigh languages, Amazigh has not been considered an official language of the country and not taught in schools. So children of Amazigh households are having to learn a second language just to attend school and many times start off already behind their Arab peers.
Understandably, the Amazigh people have been demanding a change. So the Kingdom of Morocco is (slowly) working towards a more inclusive approach towards the indigenous languages. The first step is to make Amazigh languages official. This will hopefully trickle down to help abate the social rejection many Amazigh people face in Arab communities.
Photo: Bochra models traditional Amazigh dress at the DC premiere of the documentary We Will Rise.
If I could choose any superpower, it would be the power to learn languages quickly. Language is beautiful. Learning someone’s language shows them you appreciate their culture and that you care about their heritage. My village is mostly Arab, but I have so much respect for the volunteers that take on learning an Amazigh language in addition to Darija in order to reach the Amazigh communities. And even though Darija has been a challenge for me, I won’t give up. I plan to keep trying until my last day in country, and maybe even afterwards.
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