What It’s Like Speaking More Than One Language
How your brain and tongue connect.
I know that while writing this article I will struggle to express what I’ll want to say, using just the English language. I will use the dictionary and translator more times than I can count.
In this moment, I don’t even acknowledge what language I am thinking in… Carajo.
“Carajo,” — has no equivalent in english, there’s no precise translation, what a surprise! But let’s just pretend it means, “damn it.”
That’s what it’s like a lot of the time when speaking a language other than your mother tongue. You compromise when your friends ask you for an what the exact translation; most of the time you end up giving up — searching for a word that in brain that doesn’t yet exist in the language you seek it. So when people say, “don’t worry I think I know what you mean,” you reply “sure let’s go with that.” Even if you know they have no idea.
My parents
I am born to a Cuban mother and a Bolivian father: “Where is Bolivia?” you might ask. The country is in South America, bordered by Brazil, Peru, Chile, Argentina and Paraguay. Mi mami and papi made it their priority that I would be fluent in our mother tongue — Spanish, so growing up, that’s what I spent most of my time speaking.
My Cuban side of the family made fun of my “accent”, and my Bolivian side would point out “the Cuban” in the way I spoke. For me, there was no winning.
Mi papi immigrated to Montreal with his family at the age of 18, in pursuit of a better future for himself and his children to be, namely: me. I recall my father telling me he had been through a bad breakup and decided he needed some of that Cuban sun. He chose to go off the radar and roam around the Cuban island to heal his “pena de amor,” (the direct translation is sad of love). You can interpret it however you like.
He met my mother to be at a party in Varadero, Cuba, as she’s told me throughout the years. On this particular night, those who had a partner could enter the party for free. Mi mami being atrevida, (her daring self), approached a stranger. That stranger would become my father. She asked if he wanted to go in with her: to which he replied yes. But once inside, they lost each other.
Days had past, but nonetheless the universe had my father bump into my mother’s friend, who had been at the party with her the night they met. She reconnected my mother and father, and that is how their long distance relationship began.
My childhood
I was born in 1998, in Montreal Canada. I spoke Spanish at home, but French at school. At a young age I was already having to juggle one language to another.
By the age of six, my mother and I moved to London Ontario because of her new relationship.
I could not speak English, and did not particularly like the sound of it. I continued to go to a French school, but everyone spoke English — I had to watch cartoons in English, I listened to music in English. I lived my everyday life hearing those who surrounded me speak this other language, and I started learning really quickly. And before I knew it I’d felt I had mastered it.
But to be fair, My English wasn’t the best; and the kids, they liked to tease. And I struggled having to balance these three very different languages.
When I spoke English, my French accent came out. When I spoke French my Spanish accent came out. And every time I spoke Spanish, an accent of some sort was there.
A day in my life
- I often accidentally make up words and the funny thing is: to me, they sound correct. English, French and Spanish are more alike than you might expect. I often think of a word in Spanish to help me think of the English equivalent or vice versa, but often times I just confuse myself and those around me… oops.
2. Another thing I experienced growing up, and still do; are my friends who want to learn vocabulary in another language, but the vulgar ones. This is mostly the case for Spanish.
3. My biggest struggle is trying to figure out what language I think in. This may seem like a silly one, but whenever I try to answer that question I overthink it and can’t really concentrate on my thoughts.
4. As I came to learn these languages, I realized I had instantly become a translator. I guess it comes with being trilingual, and it’s something I’ve grown to love — and doesn’t come without its benefits either.
For instance, you can eavesdrop into other conversations. Sometimes, my mom and I will talk about a cute boy in line, little does he know he is the topic of our conversation.
No, but seriously, this ability gives you the opportunity to help those who you see may be struggling because of their accent. When you travel whether that is far or near, you have so many more people to communicate with.
5. My parents always told me I had higher chances at a job because of my speaking abilities.
6. Most importantly, for all of those who speak more than one language their brain develops in a different way. They say this can prevent dementia.
Today
From now on, don’t feel ashamed or embarrassed of your accent or of the way you express yourself in any of the languages you’ve come to learn. Understand that you have accomplished what many wish they had, be proud of your silly grammar mistakes, of your little accent: of the way you speak. This shows that you embrace your roots, and the beauty in other languages, and everything that comes with it.
Next time somebody comments on the way you articulate a word, or misused a word remind yourself that it is normal, don’t be angry, thank them. Whether they did it to mock you or to help you, the outcome is the same: and either way it’s something you can learn from.
