Good morning! Are you awake? They took my name tag, but I wanted to ask you, did anyone here write their name on the tag in Arabic? Anyone! No one? All right, no problem.
Dobro jutro! Da li ste budni? Uzeli su mi akreditaciju, ali sam želela da vas pitam da li neko ovde ima napisano svoje ime na akreditaciji na arapskom? Bilo ko! Niko? U redu, nema problema.
Once upon a time, not long ago, I was sitting in a restaurant with my friend, ordering food. So I looked at the waiter and said, "Do you have a menu (Arabic)?" He looked at me strangely, thinking that he misheard. He said, "Sorry? (English)." I said, "The menu (Arabic), please." He replied, "Don't you know what they call it?" "I do." He said, "No! It's called "menu" (English), or "menu" (French)." Is the French pronunciation correct? "Come, come, take care of this one!" said the waiter. He was disgusted when talking to me, as if he was saying to himself, "If this was the last girl on Earth, I wouldn't look at her!" What's the meaning of saying "menu" in Arabic? Two words made a Lebanese young man judge a girl as being backward and ignorant. How could she speak that way?
Nekada davno, ne previše davno, sedela sam u restoranu sa prijateljicom i naručivala hranu. Pogledala sam u konobara i rekla: "Da li imate jelovnik (arapski)?" Pogledao me je čudno, misleći da nije dobro čuo. Rekao je: "Pardon (engleski)." Rekla sam: "Jelovnik (arapski), molim vas." Odgovorio je: "Zar ne znate kako to zovu?" "Znam." Rekao je: "Ne! Zove se "jelovnik" (engleski) ili " meni" (francuski)". Da li je francuski izgovor tačan? "Dođi, dođi, pobrini se za ovu!" rekao je konobar. Bio je zgađen kad je razgovarao sa mnom, kao da je govorio u sebi: "Da je ovo poslednja žena na planeti, ne bih je pogledao!" Koje je značenje reči " jelovnik" na arapskom jeziku? Dve reči su učinile da mladi Libanac devojku smatra zaostalom i neznalicom. Kako ona može tako da govori?
At that moment, I started thinking. It made me mad. It definitely hurts! I'm denied the right to speak my own language in my own country? Where could this happen? How did we get here?
U tom trenutku, počela sam da razmišljam. Naljutilo me je. Definitvno boli! Nemam pravo da govorim svoj jezik u svojoj sopstvenoj zemlji? Gde bi se ovo moglo desiti? Kako je došlo do ovoga?
Well, while we are here, there are many people like me, who would reach a stage in their lives, where they involuntarily give up everything that has happened to them in the past, just so they can say that they're modern and civilized. Should I forget all my culture, thoughts, intellect and all my memories? Childhood stories might be the best memories we have of the war! Should I forget everything I learned in Arabic, just to conform? To be one of them? Where's the logic in that? Despite all that, I tried to understand him. I didn't want to judge him with the same cruelty that he judged me.
Dok smo mi ovde, postoji mnogo ljudi poput mene, koji bi dospeli do tog nivoa u svojim životima, gde nevoljno odustaju od svega što im se desilo u prošlosti, samo da bi mogli da kažu da su moderni i civilizovani. Treba li da zaboravim svu svoju kulturu, misli, intelekt i svoja sećanja? Priče iz detinjstva mogu biti najbolja sećanja koja nosimo iz rata! Treba li da zaboravim sve što sam naučila na arapskom, samo da bih se prilagodila? Da bi bila jedna od njih? Gde je tu logika? Uprkos svemu tome, pokušala sam da ga razumem. Nisam htela da ga osuđujem sa istom surovošću kao što je to on meni učinio.
The Arabic language doesn't satisfy today's needs. It's not a language for science, research, a language we're used to in universities, a language we use in the workplace, a language we rely on if we were to perform an advanced research project, and it definitely isn't a language we use at the airport. If we did so, they'd strip us of our clothes. Where can I use it, then? We could all ask this question! So, you want us to use Arabic. Where are we to do so? This is one reality.
Arapski jezik ne zadovoljava današnje potrebe. Nije jezik za nauku, istraživanje, jezik koji smo koristili na univerzitetima, jezik koji korisitmo na radnim mestima, na koji se oslanjamo jedino kada izvodimo napredne istraživačke projekte, i to definitivno nije jezik koji koristimo na aerodromima. Da to radimo, skinuli bi nam odeću. Gde ga onda mogu korisiti? Mogli bismo da postavimo ovo pitanje! Dakle, želite da koristite arapski. Gde to da činimo? Ovo je stvarnost.
But we have another more important reality that we ought to think about. Arabic is the mother tongue. Research says that mastery of other languages demands mastery of the mother tongue. Mastery of the mother tongue is a prerequisite for creative expression in other languages.
Ali imamo drugu važniju stvarnost o kojoj moramo da mislimo. Arapski je maternji jezik. Istraživanje kaže da znanje drugih jezika zahteva veštinu znanja maternjeg jezika. Znanje sopstvenog jezika je preduslov za kreativno izražavanje na drugim jezicima.
How? Gibran Khalil Gibran, when he first started writing, he used Arabic. All his ideas, imagination and philosophy were inspired by this little boy in the village where he grew up, smelling a specific smell, hearing a specific voice, and thinking a specific thought. So, when he started writing in English, he had enough baggage. Even when he wrote in English, when you read his writings in English, you smell the same smell, sense the same feeling. You can imagine that that's him writing in English, the same boy who came from the mountain. From a village on Mount Lebanon. So, this is an example no one can argue with.
Kako? Gibran Kalil Gibran, kada je prvi put počeo da piše, koristio je arapski. Sve njegove ideje, mašta i filozofija su bili inspirisani ovim dečakom u selu kada je odrastao i mirisao određeni miris, slušao poseban glas i mislio posebne misli. Kada je počeo da piše na engleskom, imao je dovoljno materijala. Čak kada je pisao na engleskom, kada čitate njegove spise na engleskom, osećate isti miris imate isti osećaj. Možete da zamislite da je to on koji piše na engleskom, isti dečak ko je došao sa planine. Iz sela na Mont Libanu. Ovo je primer koji niko ne može da ospori.
Second, it's often said that if you want to kill a nation, the only way to kill a nation, is to kill its language. This is a reality that developed societies are aware of. The Germans, French, Japanese and Chinese, all these nations are aware of this. That's why they legislate to protect their language. They make it sacred. That's why they use it in production, they pay a lot of money to develop it. Do we know better than them?
Drugo, često se kaže da ako želite da ubijete naciju, jedini način da to uradite, je da ubijete njen jezik. Ovo je stvarnost koje su razvijena društva svesna. Nemci, Francuzi, Japanci i Kinezi, svi ti narodi su svesni toga. Zato imaju zakone koji štite njihove jezike. Učinili su ga svetim. Zato ih koriste u svom stvaranju, plaćaju mnogo novca da bi ga razvili. Da li mi znamo bolje od njih?
All right, we aren't from the developed world, this advanced thinking hasn't reached us yet, and we would like to catch up with the civilized world. Countries that were once like us, but decided to strive for development, do research, and catch up with those countries, such as Turkey, Malaysia and others, they carried their language with them as they were climbing the ladder, protected it like a diamond. They kept it close to them. Because if you get any product from Turkey or elsewhere and it's not labeled in Turkish, then it isn't a local product. You wouldn't believe it's a local product. They'd go back to being consumers, clueless consumers, like we are most of the time. So, in order for them to innovate and produce, they had to protect their language. If I say, "Freedom, sovereignty, independence (Arabic)," what does this remind you of? It doesn't ring a bell, does it? Regardless of the who, how and why.
U redu, mi ne potičemo iz razvijenog sveta, ovo napredno mišljenje nije doprlo do nas još uvek, i voleli bismo da ispratimo civilizovani svet. Zemlje koje su nekad bile poput nas, odlučile su da se okrenu razvoju, urade istraživanje, i dostignu te zemlje, kao što su Turska, Malezija i ostale. Nosile su svoj jezik sa sobom kako su se uspinjale na lestvici, zaštićen kao dijamant. Držale su ga blizu sebe. Jer ako dobijete bilo koji proizvod iz Turske ili bilo gde a nije označen na turskom, to onda nije lokalni proizvod. Ne biste verovali da je lokalni proizvod. Vratili biste se nazad mušterijama, neobaveštenim potrošačima, kakvi smo svi većinom vremena. U cilju uvođenja novina i stvaranja, morali su da štite svoj jezik. Ako kažem: "Sloboda, suverenitet, nezavisnost (arapski)", na šta vas to podseća? Ne pali vam lampicu, zar ne? Bez obzira na koga, kako i zašto.
Language isn't just for conversing, just words coming out of our mouths. Language represents specific stages in our lives, and terminology that is linked to our emotions. So when we say, "Freedom, sovereignty, independence," each one of you draws a specific image in their own mind, there are specific feelings of a specific day in a specific historical period.
Jezik nije samo za razgovor, samo reči koje izlaze iz usta. Jezik predstavlja posebne stadijume u našim životima, i terminologiju koja je povezana sa našim životima. Kada kažemo "sloboda, suverenitet, nezavisnost", svako od vas slika posebnu sliku u sopstvenom umu, tu su posebna osećanja posebnog dana u posebnom istorijskom periodu.
Language isn't one, two or three words or letters put together. It's an idea inside that relates to how we think, and how we see each other and how others see us. What is our intellect? How do you say whether this guy understands or not? So, if I say, "Freedom, sovereignty, independence (English)," or if your son came up to you and said, "Dad, have you lived through the period of the freedom (English) slogan?" How would you feel? If you don't see a problem, then I'd better leave, and stop talking in vain.
Jezik nije jedna, dve ili tri reči ili slova zajedno sastavljena. To je unutrašnja ideja koja se povezuje sa načinom na koji mislimo, i kako vidimo jedni druge i kako drugi vide nas. Šta je naš intelekt? Kako reći da li nas ovaj čovek razume ili ne? Ako kažem: "Sloboda, suverenitet, nezavisnost (engleski)", ili ako vam priđe sin i kaže "Tata, da li si živeo u periodu slogana freedom (engleski)?" Kako biste se osećali? Ako ne vidite problem, onda je bolje da odem i prestanem da pričam uzalud.
The idea is that these expressions remind us of a specific thing. I have a francophone friend who's married to a French man. I asked her once how things were going. She said, "Everything is fine, but once, I spent a whole night asking and trying to translate the meaning of the word 'toqborni' for him." (Laughter) (Applause) The poor woman had mistakenly told him "toqborni," and then spent the whole night trying to explain it to him. He was puzzled by the thought: "How could anyone be this cruel? Does she want to commit suicide? 'Bury me?' (English)" This is one of the few examples.
Poenta je da nas ova očekivanja podsećaju na određenu stvar. Imam frankofonu prijateljicu koja je udata za Francuza. Pitala sam je jednom kako joj ide. Rekla je: "Sve je dobro, ali sam jednom provela čitavu noć pitajući se i tražeći prevod značenja reči "toqborni" za njega." (Smeh) (Aplauz) Sirotica mu je greškom rekla "toqborni", i onda provela čitavu noć pokušavajući da mu je objasni. Bio je zbunjen mišlju: "Kako neko može biti tako okrutan?" Da li želi da izvrši samoubistvo? "Zakopa me? (engleski)" Ovo je jedan od primera.
It made us feel that she's unable to tell that word to her husband, since he won't understand, and he's right not to; his way of thinking is different. She said to me, "He listens to Fairuz with me, and one night, I tried to translate for him so he can feel what I feel when I listen to Fairuz." The poor woman tried to translate this for him: "From them I extended my hands and stole you --" (Laughter) And here's the pickle: "And because you belong to them, I returned my hands and left you." (Laughter) Translate that for me. (Applause)
Učinilo je da smatramo da ne zna da kaže tu reč svom mužu, jer je neće razumeti i u pravu je što je ne razume; njegov način razmišljanja je drugačiji. Rekla mi je: "Sluša Fairuzu sa mnom, i jedne noći pokušala sam da mu prevedem da bi i on mogao da oseti isto što i ja kada slušam Fairuzu." Sirotica je pokušala da mu prevede: "Od njih sam pružila svoje ruke i ukrala te -" (Smeh) Ali evo problema: "A pošto im pripadaš, vratila sam svoje ruke i napustila te." (Smeh) Prevedite mi to. (Aplauz)
So, what have we done to protect the Arabic language? We turned this into a concern of the civil society, and we launched a campaign to preserve the Arabic language. Even though many people told me, "Why do you bother? Forget about this headache and go have fun." No problem! The campaign to preserve Arabic launched a slogan that says, "I talk to you from the East, but you reply from the West." We didn't say, "No! We do not accept this or that." We didn't adopt this style because that way, we wouldn't be understood. And when someone talks to me that way, I hate the Arabic language. We say-- (Applause)
I šta smo uradili da zaštitimo arapski jezik? Preokrenuli smo ovo u brigu građanskog društva, i lansirali smo kampanju da sačuvamo arapski jezik. Iako mi je mnogo ljudi reklo: "Zašto se brineš? Zaboravi na tu glavobolju i idi zabavi se." Nema problema! Kampanja očuvanja arapskog jezika sastavila je slogan koji kaže: "Govorim ti sa Istoka, a ti odgovori sa Zapada." Nismo rekli: "Ne! Ne prihvatamo ovo ili ono." Nismo usvojili ovaj stil jer tako ne bismo bili shvaćeni. I kada mi neko govori na taj način, mrzim arapski jezik. Kažemo - (Aplauz)
We want to change our reality, and be convinced in a way that reflects our dreams, aspirations and day-to-day life. In a way that dresses like us and thinks like we do. So, "I talk to you from the East, but you reply from the West" has hit the spot. Something very easy, yet creative and persuasive. After that, we launched another campaign with scenes of letters on the ground. You've seen an example of it outside, a scene of a letter surrounded by black and yellow tape with "Don't kill your language!" written on it. Why? Seriously, don't kill your language. We really shouldn't kill our language. If we were to kill the language, we'd have to find an identity.
Želimo da promenimo svoju stvarnost i budemo uvereni na način koji izražava naše snove, nadanja i svakodnevni život. Na način na koji se ponaša i misli kao i mi. Stoga je "govorim ti sa Istoka, a ti odgovori sa Zapada." pogodilo cilj. Nešto veoma jednostavno, ali i kreativno i ubedljivo. Nakon toga, pokrenuli smo drugu kampanju sa scenama slova na zemlji. Videli ste taj primer napolju, prizor slova okruženih crnom i žutom trakom sa ispisanim "nemojte ubiti svoj jezik". Zašto? Ozbiljno, ne ubijajte svoj jezik. Zaista ne bi trebalo da ubijamo svoj jezik. Ako bismo ga ubijali, trebalo bi da nađemo identitet.
We'd have to find an existence. We'd go back to the beginning. This is beyond just missing our chance of being modern and civilized.
Trebalo bi da nađemo postojanje. Trebalo bi da se vratimo nazad na početak. Ovde se ne radi o tome da gubimo priliku da budemo moderni i civilizovani.
After that we released photos of guys and girls wearing the Arabic letter. Photos of "cool" guys and girls. We are very cool! And to whoever might say, "Ha! You used an English word!" I say, "No! I adopt the word 'cool.'" Let them object however they want, but give me a word that's nicer and matches the reality better. I will keep on saying "Internet" I wouldn't say: "I'm going to the world wide web" (Laughs) Because it doesn't fit! We shouldn't kid ourselves. But to reach this point, we all have to be convinced that we shouldn't allow anyone who is bigger or thinks they have any authority over us when it comes to language, to control us or make us think and feel what they want.
Nakon toga smo objavili slike momaka i devojaka koji nose arapska slova. Slike "kul" momaka i devojaka. Veoma smo kul! I onima koji bi rekli: "Ha, upotrebili ste englesku reč!" kažem: "Ne! Usvajam reč kul." Pustite ih da sude kako žele, ali mi dajte lepšu reč i koja se slaže bolje sa stvarnošću. Nastaviću da govorim "internet", ne bih rekla: "Idem na svetsku mrežu." (Smeh) Jer se ne uklapa! Ne bi trebalo da se zavaravamo. Ali da bi se dostigla ova tačka, svi treba da budemo uvereni da ne bi trebalo da dozvolimo nikome ko je veći ili misli da ima bilo kakav autoritet nad nama kada je jezik u pitanju, da nas kontroliše ili da nas uveri da mislimo i osećamo ono što on želi.
Creativity is the idea. So, if we can't reach space or build a rocket and so on, we can be creative. At this moment, every one of you is a creative project. Creativity in your mother tongue is the path. Let's start from this moment. Let's write a novel or produce a short film. A single novel could make us global again. It could bring the Arabic language back to being number one. So, it's not true that there's no solution; there is a solution! But we have to know that, and be convinced that a solution exists, that we have a duty to be part of that solution.
Kreativnost je ideja. Ako ne možemo da dostignemo svemir ili napravimo raketu i tako dalje, možemo da budemo kreativni. U ovom trenutku, svako od vas je kreativni projekat. Kreativnost u vašem maternjem jeziku je putanja. Počnimo od ovog trenutka. Počnimo da pišemo roman ili stvaramo kratki film. Jedan roman bi mogao da nas ponovo učini globalnim. Mogao bi da vrati arapski jezik na prvo mesto. Nije istina da nema rešenja - postoji rešenje! Ali moramo to da znamo i da budemo uvereni da rešenje postoji, da imamo obavezu da budemo deo tog rešenja.
In conclusion, what can you do today? Now, tweets, who's tweeting? Please, I beg of you, even though my time has finished, either Arabic, English, French or Chinese. But don't write Arabic with Latin characters mixed with numbers! (Applause) It's a disaster! That's not a language. You'd be entering a virtual world with a virtual language. It's not easy to come back from such a place and rise. That's the first thing we can do.
Da zaključim, šta možemo da uradimo danas? Sad, tvitovi, ko tvituje? Molim vas, preklinjem vas, iako mi je vreme isteklo, bilo da je na arapskom, engleskom, francuskom ili kineskom. Ali ne pišite arapski latiničnim slovima mešanim sa brojevima! (Aplauz) To je užasno! To nije jezik. Ulazite u virtuelni svet sa virtuelnim jezikom. Nije lako vratiti se nazad iz takvog mesta i uzdići. To je prva stvar koju možemo da uradimo.
Second, there are many other things that we can do. We're not here today to convince each other. We're here to bring attention to the necessity of preserving this language. Now I will tell you a secret. A baby first identifies its father through language. When my daughter is born, I'll tell her, "This is your father, honey (Arabic)." I wouldn't say, "This is your dad, honey (English)." And in the supermarket, I promise my daughter Noor, that if she says to me, "Thanks (Arabic)," I won't say, "Dis, 'Merci, Maman,'" and hope no one has heard her. (Applause)
Druga je da postoji mnogo drugih stvari koje možemo da učinimo. Nismo danas ovde da bismo ubeđivali jedni druge. Ovde smo da bismo privukli pažnju na neophodnost čuvanja ovog jezika. Odaću vam tajnu. Beba se prvo identifikuje sa ocem putem jezika. Kada se rodila moja ćerka, rekla sam joj: "Ovo je tvoj otac, dušo (arapski)". Nisam rekla: "Ovo je tvoj otac, dušo (engleski)." U supermarketu, obećavam svojoj ćerki Nor, da ako mi kaže: "Hvala (arapski)", neću joj reći "Reci 'Hvala mama' (francuski)", nadajući se da je niko nije čuo. (Aplauz)
Let's get rid of this cultural cringe.
Hajde da se rešimo ovog kulturnog ropstva.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)