AsiaLIFE

Will discovers that listening to his first-born’s first words is more linguistically challenging than conjugating German verbs.

Anyone who has visited Cambodia's beautiful beach resorts has seen the long lines of foreigners reclining along the ocean, noses planted deep in novels and light non-fiction. The scantily clad barangs take their obligatory dips in the surf every hour, drink a coconut and soak up the sun, but the primary focus – at least until the sun goes down and the real debauchery begins – is the book. Alas, Cambodia does not have a culture that puts a strong emphasis on literacy. Education is highly regarded – the overflowing universities are evidence of that – but more for its impact on future earnings and social status than any love of pure knowledge. Of course, school is also a great place to meet a future mate and gossip over Coca-Cola. But reading for pleasure isn't on the agenda.

While those long noses recline in their Speedos and bikinis, the Cambodian families at the beach — with the women baring nothing but feet and hands to prevent the terrifying prospect of a tan — frolic with abandon in the surf. So I've always been curious what my son's reading habits would be like. Would he be a bookworm like his father? Merely a middleweight reader like his mother (who enjoys reading much more than the average Cambodian)? Or would he become a true American and spend as much time in front of the television as he does sleeping? But before reading comes speaking. His mother is a Cambodian who speaks Khmer, Thai, Japanese and of course English, the best language in the world. His father is an American (obvious, considering the linguistic arrogance in the preceding sentence) who speaks English and only enough German to embarrass himself by assigning the improper gender to articles.

I only studied German because it was so closely related to English. I could have learned Frisian, except investing years of study into that language didn't sound like it would open many doors around the world, except maybe doors to cold, barren sandbars and marshes in the North Sea. That and the fact that almost no one speaks Frisian outside of those cold, barren marshes on the North Sea. But, as it turns none of the languages we speak are enough to satisfy our toddling son.  America in general, and the Western U.S. in particular, has been experiencing a wave of migration from Latin America for the last few decades. This is, depending on what spectrum of the media you listen to, either business as usual or "The End Of Civilisation." As America has survived waves of immigration by the Irish, the Italians and the Basques, American can survive anything.

The neighbourhood we live in is heavily Latino, which is a nice way to say someone speaks a language that got its start on the Iberian peninsula, but that you have no idea where they are actually from. Mistaking someone as being from, say, Mexico instead of Guatemala, makes people very upset. Confusing San Salvador and Honduras will get you a football to the face. But for the most part Spanish is what you hear in our neighbourhood. Most of our neighbours speak Spanish as their first or only language. There are Spanish-language churches and shops. The government schools and departments have signs in Spanish first and English second.

Our son's daycare provider is originally from Mexico and several of his peers in care speak Spanish, so it was only natural that he started to pick up the language. But he wasn't learning just Spanish. He also picked up English and Khmer, along with the standard baby babble – I refuse to except "horsie" and "pee-pee" as proper English. This mishmash of language makes him even more difficult to understand than the average toddler. After slurping down a bottle, it's not empty or finished, it's "ah howie." When he's thirsty he doesn't ask for water, he asks for "agua." When we're off to grandmother's house, it's because he wants to see "ya-ya," not grannie or grandma. Uh-oh, time to get going. The "agua" is "a-howie" and the little guy wants to go to "ya-ya's" house. At this point, he can read and speak whatever language he likes, so long as he just does it one at a time.

Will Koenig is a journalist based in Oregon. Email him at: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .