Arabic: My Psychological Medium to the World at Large

By Dr. David Rabeeya

“Our native language is our eternal song and our myriad echoes.”

As a Jew who was born in an Arab country, Arabic has always rung in my ears as a male language: strong and determined, shooting like an arrow to its clear targets. At the same time, my lips have always articulated Arabic as the language of poetic love flowing deep sentiments and a profound sense of detailed human compositions. Its eloquent expressions and proverbs, together with its melodies and rhythms, have always deeply touched my heart at times of elation and sadness. In very subjective ways, the Arab melodies of Arab songs were always integrated into one inclusive, human, unified drama of time and place. It is often difficult for a person who loves Arabic to explain the scientific and the national reasons and motivations of this surrender to the overwhelming charm and delicacy in her mental performance. Arabic is also a human puzzle for me since every root can mean many things, but its grammatical structures are both rational and precise as well as logical. The “fusha” (classical) demands case endings like Latin, but the ten dialects ignore its rules.

Her exaggeration is not unknown, but her sincerity reflects the Arab character of the straight Shooters. She is vague, misty and dry, like bones, when she decides to find herself in this position. She is religious, but also blunt with unlimited imaginative webs of utterances. It takes years to study her, like an uncontrolled woman, and she takes the time to trust the strangers. She is noble and unpredictable, but also soft when she plays the mischievous teenage girl. She is divine and earthy. She takes her time before she borrows non-Arabic terms of technology and trade, but she is also flexible in quickly Arabizing them into the large families of Arabs.

She is the medium of those who abuse her in their terrorist declarations, but she is also a language that tells plenty about their sinful actions. She came down from heaven according to some and she is totally human according to others. She is a Bedouin, an urban dweller, as well as Asian, European, African and American. She is the Qur’an itself and she is the language of political power. She is the language of incredible patience and also the tongue of the summer. She walks slowly like the turtle, but she has the soul of a hare in a rush. Her people love her, admire her, adore her, and sometimes they are frightened of her dynamics. She can cure the disturbed and can upset those who never knew her. She is proud and demands her equal share in the international language of English and frequently she declares her superiority. She is spoken by millions and studied with curiosity and dedication. She is the language of the revolution of the mouth and of spontaneous demonstrations.

Finally, she is so Semitic and like a noble Arabian mare that no one can muzzle her because she likes to roam in the deserts of all horizons. I am crazy about the Arabic language. My craziness is my need to think with her and to tell her the deepest secrets of my heart. Arabic is my father and Hebrew is my mother. I am an Arab-Jew.