Academia

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I have re-entered academia. I am with academics- people who like to learn as a profession. I identify well with that description, and am enjoying my time as a student again. (My perpetual mouth does not, however, benefit my reputation as a student…) My brain is nearly constantly engaged with a new concept- primarily adapting to the Arabic language. I am picking up on the right-to-left method, well enough to write my English backwards, fairly adeptly. Once I remember which language flows most fluently from my pen, I admire the ease with which I create strokes that make words using letters from an alphabet in which I naturally recognize the phonetics. (Sometimes I indulge in my attraction to alliteration and otherwise play with words.) When I return to my Arabic homework, I re-start at the right, and haltingly hitch a few words neatly, double-checking my spelling. Learning the Arabic alphabet and applying it in writing is a second tour in primary school, with the added difficulty that I don’t yet comprehend the words I hear and try to spell. If I think on the terms that the Arabic alphabet is in all practical ways the same as the one we use in English, but with different sounds, I am learning well enough- re-learning how to read and write, and apply what I hear and read to my writing. I amuse myself by applying the Arabic phonetics to various sounds, like bird calls. ‘V’s, ‘G’s, and ‘-ng’ suffixes are the trickiest to transcribe.

My enthusiasm and the general positive ambiance of the SCALI setting carry me a long way. The necessary element to perfect learning Arabic would be to learn to write with my left hand. Hm…

This summer is otherwise different than previous summers; usually I work. I say this in sustained disbelief- really? All I do is study Arabic? This is awkward for me; although I enjoy reading, writing, studying, discussing, swimming laps, running, cooking, drinking beer, etc., as well as anyone else so ambitiously minded for the summer. I am adapting, but am still slightly disappointed in myself for being so apparently self-involved. My quest for a service-like outlet continues.

East Lansing is pleasant. The general population is accustomed to bikers, so although I remain alert, it’s not nearly as edgy as riding elsewhere. Diverse culture abounds, especially when I go toward Detroit for events such as the Arab-American Festival and the ‘Through African Eyes’ special exhibit at the Detroit Institute of Arts. I appreciate, as well, the diversity at hand: language professors from various African nations such as Morocco, Rwanda, Ghana, Senegal, South Africa, and others, as well as fellow students from various corners of the United States of America- students and professors who study fashion, education, geography, politics, journalism, linguistics, etc., in some fascinating African culture. We’ve learned to recognize basic greetings in one another’s languages of study, so we can ask and respond in our study language and a dialogue in Twi/Arabic/Wolof, etc. I throw in a little French and Mina, too, just to keep a smile on my face. I tend to smile anyway.

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