A non-Armenian's journey to learning the Armenian language

The year was 2015. I was 24 and I’d fallen madly in love with an Armenian boy who lived close to me. I’d become enamoured with the Paul Baghdadlian and Charles Azanavour songs he’d play loudly on our stereo at night. He visited Armenia and brought me back a knitted coin purse in the colours of the Armenian flag and a necklace with my initial Է on it in gold lettering. And I’d naturally learned some Armenian words “avel” for broom, or “vardig” for underwear, because he refused to use their English alternatives.

I gradually came only to rely on Armenian mechanics, doctors, lawyers and panel beaters. He treated these people as treasured friends, and they in turn treated me like family.

His brothers and sisters had Armenian names, and I’d be both embarrassed and enthused trying to pronounce them under my breath, and form the sounds just as he did. “Maral”, “Maral”, “Maral” practicing until I felt like I could say it, but then buckling under the pressure of an audience! I always managed to fumble the rolling of the tongue, and the result would sound like something closer to ‘muddle’ than the beautiful Maral 😳.

Over time, I realised that the things I loved about him were as much about who he was as they were about where he came from. His upbringing, full of love and crucial life lessons… his fierce patriotism and love for Armenia and all things Armenian. The way he’d blast Aram Asatryan’s ‘Hay em yes, Hay es du‘ when we took his little fishing boat out on weekends, and I’d sing confidently and incorrectly ‘I AM YES’ at the top of my lungs.

He put an Armenian flag on the dash of my car, and I’d regularly be met by strangers with smiles. It was around that time that I worried how I’d react if someone thought I was Armenian and launched into speaking it with me. I asked him, somewhat coyly, whether he spoke Eastern or Western Armenian and set about to learn – nervous, excited, and desperate to keep it a secret until I could say enough to really impress him.

A few weeks later a 6-part CD series came in the mail. 6 lessons on speaking Armenian. Let’s go! I remember the very first day of learning in secret. It was a sunny morning and I was reversing out of my driveway on the way to work. I listened to the whole first CD without speaking. Curious, a little overwhelmed, and most certainly with that ‘Oh shit’ feeling that you get when you commit to an undertaking that you know is going to test you.

I remember it took me about two weeks to learn to correctly pronounce the word Shnorhakalutyun (thank you in Armenian). Turns out I’d ordered the Eastern Armenian lessons, when he and his family actually spoke Western Armenian as they’d migrated to Bourj Hammoud in the genocide, before coming to Australia. But I’d committed, and so I continued.

By the end of those 6 CDs, I could say hello, excuse me, how are you, I am well, thank you, sorry and a few more helpful phrases. Great. But what next? And how could I get my hands on more?! Encouraged, I looked for the next CDs in the series, and to my dismay – nothing. I scoured the internet… emailed the publishers… but there were no more. I learned that Armenian wasn’t a popular enough language with foreign speakers to warrant a full course in the series. Now what?

I learned to say ‘I am Armenian, you are Armenian’, and was so relieved I now had an answer I could confidently retort if someone stopped me in traffic. “Yes Hay chem” I’d practice, waiting for an opportunity. Alas, it didn’t come, but with pride bursting at the seams, it was time to let the cat out of the bag.

We sat on a bench one night, me and my Armenian love, and I told him I had something to tell him. I assume he sensed my nervousness, and flashes of anticipation crossed his face. I laughed. “It’s nothing bad, I’m just really nervous”. “Okayyyy…” he returned”. *SQUEAL* I returned – all of a sudden blank – every Armenian word and phrase I learned having immediately escaped me. That’s something you’ll come to realise when learning Armenian… you can confidently practice in your bedroom at home, in the car alone, or out and about under your breath. But when there’s someone to actually talk to, eager to listen, excited to hear you speak, well that’s a whole other story!

“TELL ME” he said! And I took a deep breath, and said it. “Yes Amerikatsi em”. There was a pause. Maybe 2 or 3 seconds of silence, and then laughter. Surprised, delighted, proud laughter… a laugh that communicated pure joy. He’d learned I’d started learning for him. Speechless, tears followed. Hugs, more laughter, and pure love. In hindsight, I probably should have learned to say something more heartfelt: I love you. You are my soul. I want to spend forever with you. But instead, I told him “I am American”, in the opposite dialect to the one he actually spoke, and I’m not even American!

The journey to learning more Armenian from there was challenging. There weren’t courses I could take at my own pace, so I resorted to translation apps. I created hundreds of flashcards by hand, all in a confused mix of both the Eastern and Western dialects, and I made it my mission to learn as many words as I could. Sometimes 20 new words in a week, sometimes 40 or 45, sometimes more. And then there was the challenge of remembering the words I’d learned before, in previous days or weeks. I’d keep flashcards in my pockets and steal moments in the day to practice them. 10 minutes or so waiting for water to boil, 5 minutes between meetings, or delays in traffic.

From there it got more complex. Textbooks. Sentence structure. Verb conjugations. Inaccurate, incomplete or conflicting information from different sources.

I learned valuable lessons about time and commitment in those days. Those stolen moments of practice taught me that you can find opportunities to achieve things even in the smallest time windows. And when you’re determined, you will. I also learned that commitment and consistency, especially when learning, will take you places. Every new word I learned brought me one word closer to understanding and speaking Armenian fluently. I wanted to impress his family. I wanted to gossip in Armenian about people who couldn’t understand Armenian. But most importantly, I wanted to make him proud. I wanted to share his culture, and I wanted to show him that his children, our children, would know where they came from.

Another thing learning Armenian rewarded me with, was an incredible sense of achievement. Not a single one of us is born a rocket scientist, or a prime minister or a CEO. We’re not born knowing how to play piano or dive the depths of the ocean. But, nevertheless, the world and all its fruits are available to us, if only we show up, say yes and take them on.

In the years that followed, Tun Online Armenian School was founded. It meant that students could log in and learn Eastern or Western Armenian whenever they liked. No more having to scour the internet searching for different learning resources, sort through inaccurate or conflicting information or go it all alone. Every lesson, delivered every day, for you. Games and quizzes are now included to keep things interesting… Tutors are there to help whenever needed, and you have an online community of other Armenian speakers around the world to practice with.

If you’re thinking of learning Armenian, do it. It’s effort expended once, and the learning is lifelong. Once you’ve understood it, it’s yours keep. And that’s a gift that you, and those who love you, will cherish for the rest of your lives.

And to the one who started it all, yes sirum em kez mishd.

Hay em yes. Yes I am.