Creative Writing

Throughout my life there was always one thing that was for certain, And that was learning a second language was always going to be a “must” factor. As an Arab student you will find it surprising and if not a bit embarrassing that my mother tongue which is Arabic is in-fact known to be my second language. Now let me elaborate on why it is. Since i never lived in a country that has arabic as a primary subject within the school range, it never attached to me. With all the schools i attended in my life,English was always the language we studied subjects in. Science,Math,History and every other subject were associated with the english language rather than being studied in arabic and that was the case really to why the english language is deemed as my “Stronger” or “First” language.So since i had the disadvantage of arabic learning it wasn't as difficult as other people who didn't have my background. Well since both of my parents were fluent Arab speakers and all my family spoke fluent and formal arabic, I found it very difficult to adapt to the life style and way or speaking it. 

“Come on wake up! We’re gonna be late” My mom roared with anxiety as she was running around her room trying to put together something that would be deemed as “Respectable” for the event. As i tried to wake up the sheer thought of seeing them again made me feel miserable, As i mentally prepared myself for the comments i’ll be receiving through each relative! “It couldn’t get any worst than the last time they came” As I forcefully got out of my bed and somewhat slowly made my way to the bathroom as i walk like an undead rising from the ground. As i looked at the bathroom mirror i began to practice, “Marahaba” “Bkheir” all the basic things that i really should know but still struggled with. 

It was around 12 o’clock when the bell began to ring. With each passing uncle or aunt that walked in i remembered all of them by face, Not by name. As a 10 year old you tend to remember the nicer things in life, Like the name of an action figure or your favourite superhero, But people you were scared off weren't very hight on my “Must know name” list. I shaped them out from their facial features. One had crazy eyebrows and another one wore way too much make up that her faced began to reflect when it was it had contact with the sun. I looked at what my older brother was doing and it seems to work. You see my older brother was defiantly better in speaking Arabic that i was,I mean he was older and he was always good at adopting certain things very quickly, And language was one of them. He used a very interesting tactic, He would only respond  to things that he knew how to respond too. But when approached with other things he would either start laughing or would tell the guest that he had to go to the kitchen because our mother needed help with something. And by the time he “Helped” my mom out, The person he was talking too would have completely forgotten what the conversation was about. 

As we all sat down to eat our lunch, The usual boasting began from every side of the family, It was in somewhat a tradition to boast about your child’s accomplishments,Especially in front of my grandfather. I’ve always loved my grandfather, He was one of those people that no matter what happens i would always have so much respect for what he made us to be.

My uncles were taking turns in boasting about their kids, First one that began was baby man, Or that’s what me and my brother used to acknowledge him as. Since he had no hair like a baby and since his stomach was so big that you would think there’s a baby in it, The name felt appropriate. He began to discuss how his son was an overall excellent student and how he scored the final goal for his local football team.  While others discussed their school grades, which were all lies, I mean i am no expert in character judgment but my cousins weren't exactly the brightest of individuals.

 My first test had come when one of my aunts asked me to pass the vegetables over in arabic, And it was an awkward situation because these certain things confused me, Like the difference between fruits and vegetables,Or fork and spoon. I looked at the two plates in front of me and then looked at her eyes, Which one was she looking at, Sounds stupid right? But if i didn't know the difference between the two then i would be deemed stupid or even worse the “C” word. I picked up the plate of fruits because i  thought that was my best guess, I mean after the things she was eating you would think she would want some fruits right? Sadly no. As my dad noticed my mistake he began to laugh, “She said vegetables not fruit” he said in arabic. And since my dad has a very loud voice it was certainly heard throughout the entire dining table. And then my uncle said it, The most infuriating comment that has always haunted me and made me feel less of my identity than ever. He called me a “Canadian”. 

Being born in Canada was defiantly one of the best things that could have ever happened to me, I mean i have one of the best and strongest passports that is known and respected world wide, And i mean Canada is awesome! However being called a “Canadian” in someways made me feel well like a Canadian rather than an Arab. In someway it always got me thinking, you know what maybe i am a Canadian, And made me want to forget my Arab background, But for some reason it only motivated me, So i began to work on my arabic, Starting talking it much more around friends and family so next family event, I’ll definitely know the difference between fruits and vegetables.