언어와 문화, 다름과 틀림 Language and Culture, Different and Wrong

언어와 문화, 다름과 틀림

나에게 있어서 외국어를 배운다는 것은ㅡ그것은 다른 문화를 이해하는 터널을 뚫는 것과 같다. 나의 문화와 남의 문화의 차이점을 배우고, 마치 내가 그 문화를 타고난 마냥 흉내낸다. 궁극적인 목표라면 나를, 나의 문화를 남의 문화의 방식으로 그 문화의 구성원들이 이해할 수 있는 방법으로 표현하는 것. 그리하여 터널은 - 처음에는 일방통행으로, 나중에는 양방 통행으로 - 개통된다.

이 터널을 뚫는 과정에서 가장 중요한 것은 '왜라고 묻지 않는 것' 이다.왜? 왜 주어가 먼저 나올까? 왜 문장 구조가 다를까? 왜 이런 단어를 쓰지? 왜 이런 용법을 쓸까? 왜 이런 상황에서 이런 말을 할까? 사람들은 묻고 또 묻는다. 나도 물었다, 나와 다름에 대한 호기심을 담아, 나와 다름에 대한 짜증을 담아. 그러나 답은 간단하다 - 그냥. 새가 헤엄치지 않고 물고기가 날지 않듯, 타문화가, 타언어와 나의 것이 다른 것도 당연하다. 그냥 다른 것이다.

그러나 터널이 뚫린 후, 다름을 다름이 아닌 틀림으로 받아들인다면, 편견과 열등감과 오만함이 통로를 메우고 세상을 채우겠지.

To me, learning foreign languages is like drilling a tunnel for understanding different cultures. After learning the difference between my culture and a foreign culture, I imitate it as if I am born with one. If there were an ultimate goal to this process, it would be expressing myself in their way, the way that the members of that culture understand. And then the tunnel - at first as a one way, later as a two way tunnel - would be finished.

In the process of drilling this tunnel, the most important thing is not to ask 'why.' Why? Why does the subject come first? Why is the sentence structure different? Why do they use this word? Why do the use it this way? Why do they use it in this situation? People ask, and ask again. I asked, too - with the curiosity and the vexation coming from the difference. Nevertheless, the answer is simple: just because. As birds never swim and fish never fly, foreign cultures and foreign languages are, indeed, different from those of mine. They are different just because they are.

However, if we find the difference as an error even after the tunnel has been completed, prejudice and sense of inferiority and pride will block the passage and reign over the world.

The Revival of My Ambitious Resolution

Years ago, I decided to keep a diary in three languages, taking turns: Korean, English, and Japanese. It was around this time - February (still in the beginning of the year). Of course, it didn't work. I was too lazy to write diaries in general, let alone the foreign languages.

But this year, exempt from the school and stress, I finally dug out my moleskin journal (which contains one entry from last January) and wrote. And I wrote in three languages separately and simultaneously, depending on the mood shift and subject matter.

I like to reason in English, probably because I learned academic writing and rhetoric in this States. Simultaneously, I feel less hesitant to write complements and gratitude and affections in English - over expressing gratitude is the American virtue, no? I cannot translate those tickly expressions - 'you're the best!' or 'that's so kind of you' or 'I love you!' alike - to other languages. I would be embarrassed to say so in Korean or Japanese; simple 'Thank you' would suffice.

On the other hand, I get sentimental when I write in Japanese. Or I write in Japanese when I'm sentimental. Or both. Either way, I dive deep into what's inside me, and describe them in a teenage girlish way (I admit that I've read too many Japanese comic books mainly targeted to girls). There's a happy dose of softness and femininity in my Japanese writing.

Korean, being my mother tongue, gives me the greatest freedom of all three. I am best read in Korean - I've read two-three hundred times more books in Korean than that in English and Japanese combined. Having a full command of dialects, idioms, jargons and grammar is a joy. My language lets me write in various styles, voices, and medium in the midst of nostalgia.

Although I rambled good three paragraphs on the distinction among three languages to me, I recently started to hop from one to the other in mid-paragraphs, sometimes in mid-sentences. Unlike my initial resolution, the act of keeping journals became an impulsive one; and that's the fuel that keeps me going.