What does this ی at the end of the word mean?

One of the trickier things about reading Dari is not knowing what a ی suffix means, and how to read it. Depending on context سیبی could mean “an apple” or “apple-y” or it could be introducing a relative clause (“the apple that I ate”). And the pronunciation changes along with the meaning, so you’ve got to understand the sentence if you’re going to read it aloud. How can you figure it out? I’ve made this one-page flow chart, which you can print out and keep with your reading materials.

What does this ی at the end of the word mean?

Although I hope the flow chart will be helpful, it’s almost humorously complex. This highlights one of the interesting things about language, which is that although it’s possible to create these mechanical descriptions of grammar, that’s now how brains actually work. It’s not as though Dari speakers go through this flow chart mentally every time they see this suffix: they read the sentence and understand it immediately, considering all the possibilities at the same time, and discarding the nonsensical ones without a second thought.

Unfortunately if you’re a new reader that’s now how your brain works… yet! When we’re learning languages we need these scaffolding tools to get started. Eventually your brain will start working things out on its own, and you’ll be able to stop thinking about it explicitly. For now, tools like this can help you through it.

Great stories for language learning

This brief post is just to share a neat web site, which has a great little collection of short, short Persian stories. These are not “short stories” as in ten pages, but “short stories” as in one paragraph.

Story 01

Here is a taste, appropriate for Valentine’s Day:

پیر مرد از صدای خر و پف پیر زن هر شب شکایت داشت !
پیر زن هرگز نمی پذرفت…
شبی پیر مرد آن صدا را ضبط کرد که صبح حرفش را ثابت کند…
اما صبح پیر زن دیگر هرگز بیدار نشد…
و آن صدای ضبط شده لا لایی هر شب پیر مرد شـــد…

My translation:

A old man always complained about his wife’s snoring.

The old woman never accepted it.

One night the old man made a recording so that he could prove his point the next morning.

But the old woman never woke up.

And that recording has become the old man’s lullaby, every night.

(Go get a tissue if you need to, I’ll wait.)

There is a wealth of material out there for language learning, but finding them is always serendipitous. In this case, I saw a little story/parable on Facebook, and typed a phrase from it into Google. One of the results was this collection of stories.

Adding tension

If you can ride a bike, you’re probably aware of the two most significant gears: the one connected to the pedals that you turn, and the one that turns the rear wheel. But take a look at the picture below.

800px-Kettenspanner_für_Singlespeed-Räder

What is the purpose of that red thing? It’s neither the pedal gear nor the wheel gear, but without it the bike would not work. It’s the tensioner. Its whole job is to press outward on the chain, to keep a certain amount of tension on it. If there’s not enough tension on the chain, it’ll fall off the gears.

To draw an analogy with language learning:

  • The pedal gear is where you put the effort into language learning.
  • The rear wheel is what you get out of it: better language ability.
  • The tensioner is constant pressure you need to apply to make these things connect.

The tensioner is that small bit of positive stress in your use of language—“positive” in that it prompts you to want to learn more, and to keep your lessons relevant to your daily life.

Some people are “out there” trying to get stuff done in the language. People like that probably have all the positive stress they need already—probably some negative stress too!

I expect that most of us, however, need a “tensioner” in our lives. We can converse fluently in our five routine conversations. But what’s going to get you to the next level? That’s where the tensioner comes in. It’s the next thing you’re trying to learn. It’s what keeps you growing in the language.

I have the personal goal of understanding Afghan culture better. Recently, I’ve started reading poetry with a language teacher. Poetry does two things for me:

  1. It stretches my language ability, because it’s not easy—though if you’re thinking of getting into it, it’s not as hard as I thought it would be either.
  2. It opens up cultural doors. What does the reed symbolize? How could a single death be that upsetting? I don’t have answer to those questions, but now I have the questions.

What could your tensioner be?

  • A radio program
  • A television show or serial
  • A book or short story
  • A work goal: being able to give a lesson or a speech, or being able to read a translation
  • Random flashcards—I learned the word اِنقِلابی from a deck of flashcards a three years and ten days before I heard it in real life, but when I heard it I was ready! (If that seems oddly specific, the flashcard program keeps track of dates and I heard the word for the first time the day I wrote this.)

It doesn’t have to be big. I spend about two hours a week on poetry—one hour with a teacher, one hour in private study. It’s just enough to keep the pressure on, to make sure that I keep learning.