Archive for July, 2011

My Love My Art
July 21, 2011

Unofficial HKU Centenary logo

Block in the middle: The University of Hong Kong

Horizontal from right: 100 years

I love how the dots on the 2 “jeem”s also functioned as zeros for “100”!

Second attempt

This time I wrote “HKU” on the 3 “teeth” of the “seen”…And I also highlighted the “100” in green, so that the effect would be more striking, and match the official HKU Centary logo which is in green!

Ramadan Kareem!

From top: Ramadan Kareem (An Arabic greeting wishing the recipient a bountiful and fruitful Ramadan, the Islamic month of fasting, which is to commence around August 1 this year); Hong Kong; Hanan (my name)

Quite a few people have commented on how much they like the intertwined Arabic “noon” and English “h”; well, alhamdulillah! 🙂 The idea first came to me on May 7th, 2011, on a flight to Malaysia, when I was bored out of my mind and doodling on a copy of the South China Morning Post.

 

 

The Drama of al-Kitaab fii Ta’allum al-‘Arabiyya
July 15, 2011

The al-Kitaab family tree

Seeing that my journey with al-Kitaab is coming to an end *sobs* , I made a family tree for the characters who have shaped my entire Arabic experience.

From Maha I learned to express negatives: I don’t like this, I don’t like that, I’m not Egyptian and I’m not American, I don’t belong anywhere;

From Khalid I learned…um…I learned how to say “my favourite hobby is chess”. Very useful stuff.

For a beginner’s textbook al-Kitaab is surprisingly dark and miserable, and destined to be a laughing stock for students. Grandma hates daughter-in-law. Khalid has had all his dreams shattered. Maha is borderline depressive.

From left: Mahmoud Al-Batal; Kristen Brustad; Abbas Al-Tonsi

These are the creators of the depressing Abu al-‘Alaa family. They also happen to be the same people who decided that students who know next to nothing about Arabic should learn “United Nations” as one of their very first vocabulary items.

Gazing across kulliyyahs: a look at UIA lingo
July 12, 2011

UIA, in the green green valleys of Gombak

I called this breathtaking place home for a month, and I still think of it as home. This is the International Islamic University of Malaysia (IIUM), or, in Malay, Universiti Islam Antarabangsa (UIA).

And it is home to one of the most interesting linguistic phenomena I’ve ever seen. Before we delve into the issue, however, let’s look at the background of the university for a bit: UIA is an international university, so everything is in English. It is also an Islamic university, meaning that Arabic has a heavy influence here — signs and posters are often Arabic-English bilingual, or Malay-Arabic bilingual, or feature all three.  Needless to say, there is also plenty of Malay around, seeing that we are in Malaysia, after all.

One thing that caught my eye, on the very first day, was the kulliyyahs. Kulliyyah (كلية) is an Arabic word meaning college, and in a university setting, it roughly corresponds to school, department, or faculty — as in the School of English (Kulliyyah al-Ingaleezeeya) or the Faculty of Engineering (Kulliyyah al-Handasa), for instance.

Our first campus tour took us past many kulliyyahs — the Kulliyyah of Education, the Kulliyyah of Architecture, the Kulliyyah of Engineering, etc. And their names were written exactly that way, in English, on the buildings — not the Faculty of Education, or the School of Engineering, but kulliyyahs. Kulliyyah seems to be an English word in UIA!

I would not have been surprised if the names of the various faculties/schools were in Malay. Malay has tones upon tones of Arabic loanwords, not only in the realm of religion, but also scattered across the many domains of everyday use.

The "Kulliyyah" of Engineering

Kulliyyah here is used in an essentially English structure, functioning as the head noun in a noun phrase. The bit “… of engineering” is a complement to the head noun, completing its meaning — it’s a school, but of what? Oh, okay, it’s an engineering school.

Further evidence that kulliyyah is essentially an English word when used in UIA:

"Kulliyyah" features as an English word

The headings (in yellow) on this campus directory are given in English on the right and Malay on the left, separated by a stroke in between. Here kulliyyah runs on a par with “real” English words like “administration” and “facility”.

Yes, languages borrow from each other all the time. I should be no stranger to that, as a English-Chinese bilingual person growing up in colonial Hong Kong. But we usually borrow when we have no words of our own to express a certain concept, or when it’s easier to just adopt the foreign word than to come up with a novel expression/phrase. This is why “television” is still “television” (albeit with slightly different pronunciations) in much of the Arabic-speaking world, Korea, and many other places worldwide.

 The English language certainly has no shortage of its own words for kulliyyah. We have “school”, “faculty”, “college” and “department”, just to name a few. So why is it that UIA cannot just choose any one of these, but has to slap the word kulliyyah on each of its teaching blocks?

An Islamic university is almost, by definition, also an arabophile one. The Qur’an was revealed in Arabic. Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) spoke Arabic as his mother tongue. The Arabs were among the very first Muslims. We turn our faces five times a day to the Ka’aba in Mecca, in Saudi Arabia, and recite the same prayers the world over, in Arabic. Why should it be surprising, therefore, if an Islamic university decides to incorporate as many Arabic words as possible into its environment, even if these words are not necessarily related to Islam?

* * *

I myself am very comfortable with mixing Arabic and English (and Chinese too!), and so are my crazy friends from Arabic class. We were, after all, the geniuses who invented writing Cantonese in the Arabic script, and produced ridiculous expressions such as “laisa as 貴” (meaning “not as expensive”, the first word being Arabic, the second English, and the last Chinese)!

I actually picked up this weird UIA lingo almost instantly. I knew the word kulliyyah anyway, and seeing it used in an English context while walking around campus everyday just kind of hypnotized my brain into thinking it’s an English word. 😛 I would ask my friend to wait for me “by the Kulliyyah of Engineering” and tell my teachers that back home in Hong Kong, I study in the “Kulliyyah of English”!

This will be a problem, however, if I don’t change back. No English-speaker would know what on Earth a kulliyyah is, unless they also know Arabic or Malay. Those that do know, might think I’m showing off by inserting random Arabic words into my speech. This no good lah.

*Sigh* I’m not multi-lingual; I’m mafee-lingual.

Bilal; a Bilal; the bilal?
July 8, 2011

Bilal ibn Rabah was a companion of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). He was a freed Ethiopian slave, known for his beautiful voice, and the prophet (pbuh) chose him as the first ever muezzin of Islam. A muezzin is a person of noble character, strong faith and vocal beauty chosen to give the call to prayer when prayer times commence.

So: a muezzin is a job, a position. Bilal, may Allah be pleased with him, was the first ever person to fill that position. Bilal was an excellent muezzin.

Here comes the interesting thing. In our RISEAP course in Malaysia, the lecturers frequently referred to a bilal, or the bilal, in a general sense. They would say such things as “So came the bilal…”. Bilal, as a 7th century historical figure, a companion of the prophet (peace be upon him), is a proper noun. And you do not add articles, whether definite or indefinite, to proper nouns, at least in English, unless for emphatic purposes:

*I had a meeting with the Mary yesterday. (ungrammatical)

I finally met the Mary you kept telling me about!   (emphasizing which Mary that the speaker met)

Were the lecturers ignorant of English grammatical rules? Certainly not. This is, rather, an interesting case of metonymy! Metonymy means substituting one thing for another, when you don’t call a thing or a concept by its own name, but by the name of something closely associated with that thing or concept instead. When you say Washington is waging a war on Iraq, you don’t really mean the city of Washington, and every tree, every pavement, every rock in it, are fighting Iraq. You mean the American government. Likewise, when people substitute “wheels” for “car”, it is also a case of metonymy.

We were so confused the first time we heard the lecturers substitute bilal for muezzin. We thought they were referring to that Bilal who lived in the Prophet’s time, or some random guy named Bilal! In a short while, though, we caught on.

But why did they do this? Did they not know the word? Cannot lah — they’re all so fluent in Arabic, and this is a relatively common word even among Muslims whose mother tongue is not Arabic! Were they worried that muezzin would be a difficult word for us? Also cannot lah — if that was their concern, they would have used English: the caller to prayer; the person who calls the athan; so on and so forth.

This means the use of bilal for muezzin is simply one of habit; and I have been thinking and thinking and thinking about it all the time since I’ve first heard it. Is it because Bilal was so good at his job, he became an embodiment of all that a muezzin is? Certainly he was good, and he was such a pious Muslim that his footsteps were heard in Jannah (Heaven) even while he was still alive, but this explanation does not make sense. I’ve never heard any Arabs use bilal as a metonym for muezzin. Nor is it used that way in the Philippines, or Myanmar, or Hong Kong, or Taiwan, or Sri Lanka (oh yes, we were a diverse bunch).

So…why is this so in Malaysia? Allahu ‘alim…Linguists may also ‘alim, inshaAllah, but for now…this student is clueless! 😛