My life is currently being lived in three separate languages. With the base of the people I am surrounded by, it is a world of Sakalav (a dialect of Malagasy spoken in the north). The minute I step out of my door I hear a chorus of “Mbalatsara-eee!”’s and “Inona vaovoa”, of which I will continue to hear for the rest of the day as I float through town. After a year+ speaking some form of Malagasy (when I moved up north this year my dialect changed…but a lot of the basics have kept me through) I have come to a place of comfortable uncertainty with the language. By no means would I call myself fluent, for fluency in a second language is a talent that requires many years and deep comprehension that I cannot claim. But I feel good walking around town, talking to my community members, making jokes that are pretty lame if translated but deliver appreciative guffaws. Of course, there are days where I feel more proficient than others. Even through hearing it and speaking it every day, moments will come at me where I just that have no idea what is going on. Where the day before you had a beautiful, no-stammer conversation with Madame Coffee, the next day I find myself forgetting or mispronouncing the word for rice (aka the most commonly spoken Malagasy word) and suddenly feel completely discouraged. (“Tsi mahai zaho” is a phrase that I am sure to never forget for the rest of my life as it means “I am not capable/good at/understanding”). But these moments which in my first year frustrated me intensely, are now something I am comfortable with. I have let go of the idea that I need to speak perfect ‘gasy in order to be an efficient communicator.
Bad French and English are the combined second language that appears throughout my day. In my new site there is a whole slew of people interested in learning the language of the “vazaha” (foreigner) and so, in seeing me pass, will shout out whatever words or sentences they know (which are generally words I or the previous volunteer have taught them). These phrases range from “bonsoir mademoiselle” to “I like chicken the most”. In the given language I will try to talk back to them, giving them a chance to practice and hear and hopefully further their vocabulary. Most of the time the response is just a giggle. In language learning being able to say something is way easier than understanding what someone else has said.
Finally, there is a large part of my life that still runs in my mother-toungue. Though not often the language I speak or hear, English subtitles seem to stream through my days. First, I read a lot. When I wake up, when I come in for lunch, and for the two or so hours before I fall asleep I am reading English novels/magazines/whatever I can get my hands on. I devour books. I also still listen to music and podcasts, all tending to be in English. These things are my connection to the world that I am not currently a part of, but that I still in some ways belong to. Those days where no English enters my ears feel particularly foreign. I also write in English everyday. In this way, I am allowing a conversation to happen with myself. For me, this listening to and putting out English has been essential in order to protect my sanity.
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