Vietnamese is an easy language. Just ask any Vietnamese, and that's what they’ll tell you. And they honestly believe it. Perhaps, somewhat naively yet endearingly, they figure that as they speak it and didn't find the process particularly difficult, then foreigners (often erroneously regarded as especially clever by virtue of being, well, foreigners) ought to find it a breeze.
And on paper, at first glance, Vietnamese does look easy. There's a Latin alphabet, thanks to a Portuguese crusading zealot, who worked out that the best way to convert the ‘savages’ to Christianity was to do away with the Chinese-based script and invent a recognisable system for writing the language. Hence modern Vietnamese was born. Courtesy of a benevolent church…hmm. That’s another article altogether.
In Vietnamese, there are no agreements of gender, there being no gender. There is no plural form, plural being implied through context or use of number words. Verbs have no conjugation, one form suits all purposes. (That’s a Godsend after the hours I spent pouring over tables of Greek verbs.) Past tense is rendered by the use of one word (da) and future by the use of another (se). Sound simple?
The problem arises when you try to say a word. There it is, on paper, formed with only four letters. How hard can it be to say? Yet when you confidently launch into your word, you are greeted with blank expressions. You try again. Nothing. Okay, at this point you expect a little help from your interlocutor. Nothing doing. Frustration mounts. If you are lucky you can get your Vietnamese counterpart to say the word for you. You listen hard. You repeat what you heard. Nope. He still doesn’t recognise the word you’re trying to use. He’s not being obtuse, although it’s easy to think so. There is a very real reason for the confusion, and the problem lies with us.
Vietnamese is a tonal language. That is to say, the tone of a word changes its meaning. Aha, you say. Just like in English. We use tone to alter meaning, to imply disbelief, to question, to invoke sarcasm, to confirm, to preach, to antagonise, to indicate boredom – the list is endless.
NO. Not like in English. In Vietnamese, the tone changes the meaning of the word. Completely. Like from ‘baby rice seedling’ to ‘but’ to ‘mother’. Same word, very slight difference in the tone of the word, equals whole new word. There are six different tones in Vietnamese. One descending regularly, one descending suddenly, one flat, one rising steadily (as in asking a question in English – happy?) and two both falling and then rising. Often these differences are all but imperceptible to the uninitiated Western ear; in fact, to this Western ear, they are still largely imperceptible. Compound this with an obvious corollary: you cannot use tone to express feelings or questions. If you raise the tone questioningly, you completely alter the meaning of the word you just used and you get, yes, a blank stare. It should also be noted, though, that most Vietnamese, seeing a foreigner, will rarely assume that you are attempting Vietnamese. They therefore try to decode any English or French sounds they might know from the words you utter. Or they smile politely, and wait for you to go away.
The Vietnamese are not being difficult when they don’t understand you – the language just doesn’t lend itself to the syntax guess-work and context clues available in English. If you louse up the tones, you are speaking Gobbledygook.
Vietnamese is also a language in which it is relatively easy to give offence. You might think you’ve been offended by the shouting of ‘You!’ in the street as vendors vie for your attention, but actually ‘You!’ is a direct translation of a polite form of address in Vietnamese. The personal pronoun is an area of grave importance in Vietnamese. You address others and refer to yourself differently depending upon to whom you are talking, their gender and your relative ages. Other issues including respect for family members and rank in officialdom also play a role. I have been ‘em’, ‘anh’, ‘ban’ and ‘ong’ as far as I am aware – quite possibly other terms have applied. And getting it wrong can give immense offence.
Not that I wish to discourage you. I have studied the language, given it a go, as they say. When I first arrived here, I enlisted in a University course, three times per week, two hours each session. A demanding schedule. I stuck it out for six months. Then I gave up from sheer frustration and exhaustion. Feeling guilty after two years, I arranged private lessons at home for a while – again throwing in the towel after six months. I now get by, barely. However, the little I have picked up has opened doors and revealed another country, beyond the clamour for the tourist dollar. The effort you make now will reap rewards, that much is certain. Ever friendly and obliging, it is rare that attempts at the language do not evoke smiles and good-natured laughter from the Vietnamese. And offers to help you in what is, after all, an easy language.
I do know a fair number of foreigners who speak the language well – or, at least, well enough. There is a secret to it. A sure-fire route to success in Vietnamese as in any foreign language. It takes determination, and has pit-falls of its own. And it’s not for everyone. What do they have in common, all of the Vietnamese-speaking foreigners I know? A Vietnamese partner. A romantic interest. Necessity, as they say, is the mother of invention. Maybe it’s an option for you? For my part, I don’t think my wife would approve, so for now I’ll stick to my taxi directions and daily pleasantries…
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