Upon receiving my roommate assignment for my semester in Morocco, I began to wonder just how much language would be a problem. I came to Morocco mainly to study French in a non-European context. My roommate, on the other hand, does not speak a word of French and came to Rabat in order to improve her Arabic. Our only common language is English—which was not something we wanted to speak often, given that we were not studying abroad to improve our English skills.
Furthermore, there is no common language spoken by everyone in our home. Our host mom apologized to us on our first day for not speaking more English. “I speak Arabic of course, both Modern Standard and Darija (the Moroccan dialect). And I can speak French, and a little bit of Spanish. And my native language, of course, Tamazight. But I can only speak a little bit of English, and I understand better than I speak. I have been trying to learn more, though, so maybe you can help me.”
Yet, at the dinner table, our discussion flows naturally as we all switch between French, Arabic, English, and Tamazight. This constant mixture of languages, rather than being uncommon, is actually entirely characteristic of a Moroccan conversation. As a culture, Morocco has embraced a multilingual norm. In fact, speaking multiple languages is much more than just an asset in the Moroccan professional world—it is a requirement. Most Moroccan children grow up speaking Darija or one of the three Berber languages—Tamazight, Tarifit, and Tashelhit—with their families. However, despite being the languages of everyday life in Morocco, none of these languages are used in professional or academic settings. Primary school is taught almost exclusively in Modern Standard Arabic, which, although similar to Darija, has significantly different pronunciation, vocabulary, and grammatical rules. According to my host mother, Darija is only spoken when the teacher needs to explain something that the children are unable to understand in Modern Standard Arabic. In order to really succeed in Morocco, it is also necessary to speak French. Many government services are run almost exclusively in French, and bills, bank statements, and many other important documents are available only in French.
The high level of multilingualism in Morocco is even more impressive when one considers that Arabic, French, and the Berber languages all use different alphabets. Yet, because of the high emphasis that the Moroccan education system places on multilingualism, the ability to read and speak several languages is viewed as relatively commonplace. Furthermore, because multilingualism is so widespread, informal conversations rarely occur in a single language.
Even when all parties are speaking one language, words from another are generally thrown in every few sentences or so. Some ideas simply cannot translate from one language to another. One Moroccan woman explained to me that, despite the Berber languages being less widely understood than Darija and French, she planned to speak Tashelhit to her future children, “because otherwise, there will be some concepts that I just will not be able to share with them.” This constant mixture of languages has also caused those languages to evolve. As my host parents explained, “The Tamazight that our children speak is much more Arabic than what we speak, and what we speak is much more Arabic than what our parents spoke.” After spending last semester in France, where the académie specializes in maintaining the integrity of the French language, Morocco’s culture of mixing language is a refreshing novelty.
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