Growing up, I spoke English, but everyone else in my family spoke Afrikaans. It was something about me having difficulty learning to speak as a toddler and stumbling over the Afrikaans words. My parents switched to English and it clicked right away. The long standing joke in my family was that when I finally learned to speak, I never stopped. There may be some people in my circle who would still say I talk a lot.

My aunts and uncles on both sides of my family speak Afrikaans to each other, but the cousins, for the most part, speak English. The father’s family also speak Gujarati, the language spoken in Gujarat, India where our roots lie. My father wasn’t fluent, so we never picked it up as children beyond a few words. The few words that I know was mostly my grandmother warning us about falling and telling someone I was my father’s daughter. It’s an anomaly for a traditional Indian family to, primarily speak Afrikaans and always requires a little bit of explanation when it comes up.

Earlier this year, when I was in Stellenbosch, South Africa, my AirBnB hostess was a lovely Afrikaner woman. She was charmed to hear that I could still speak Afrikaans, however pedestrian, after living in Canada for more than 30 years. For most of my time staying with her, we primarily spoke Afrikaans.

My thoughts were always in English, so I’d have to rearrange my phrasing to draw from my limited vocabulary, before speaking. It was taxing for my little brain to find the words and adapt the grammar before I uttered the words. I recognised how I listened differently, because understanding required more effort, as did responding. With each sentence demanding more thought, I also spoke slower. Emma was very patient and I would sometimes just have to ask how to say something. To practise I’d work on thinking in Afrikaans when I was on my own, but it never became effortless. The minute I lost focus, I’d realise I had reverted back to English thoughts. I loved the mental challenge of it.

This thought came back to me today and I visited with a friend who is heading to Pakistan next week. I was trying to share some Urdu words with her to use on her trip. My ex-husband’s family is Urdu speaking, and I had picked up a few things over the years that I was happy to share. The usual things – greetings, saying thank you and how to address people respectfully in a different culture. She stumbled over the pronunciation of the foreign words as one does with a new language. I’d say a word, leaning back on my Indian heritage to pronounce it correctly, and she’d say it back in a North American way because its new and foreign and she’s never heard it before. She’ll hear these words enough while she’s abroad that it will click and roll of the tongue naturally by the time she leaves Pakistan. Perhaps she’ll come home with new words that she’s learned.

I thought about how wonderful it is that we can learn and adapt how we use our mouths to say these beautiful words in another language, even if we struggle at first. It is not just saying the words, but the connection it creates with the local people. They’re delighted by the effort, and a little amused by the bad pronunciation, but it’s enough to encourage us to keep trying.

Years ago, in my Ricky Martin fan-girl phase, I learned some Spanish. I acquired a decent vocabulary but never learned to conjugate verbs beyond the present tense. Learning a new language or even using an unfamiliar language, is taxing for both the brain and the mouth as you learn to say the words. It also takes a little bit of bravery knowing that there’s a very good chance you might be saying it wrong and might embarrass yourself. To learn though, you have to rely on the patience of others and on their kindness to correct you.

Now I’m inspired to go dust off the Spanish Now books that are still on the top shelf of my bookcase.