I Am Czech In Heart

Naše literární soutěž

Dnes můžeme čtenářům představit vítěznou práci z naší literární soutěže, kterou nám poslala mladá Čechoaustralanka. Práce Terezy byla jednohlasně přijata jak odbornou porotou (Alexander Tomský, Michaela Swinkels-Novákova, Jaroslav Šonský), tak námi v redakci jako nejlepší. Nicméně, příště představíme další práce a uvítáme, když nám napíšete, která se vám líbila a proč.

My 2 ? year old son said “ja mam rada ružovou” and then “Mummy, proč mluvim česky?”

I grew up in Australia. We arrived the day after my fifth birthday and I was put straight into school. Within a few weeks of starting, I was doing a puzzle with a picture of a lion and realised I couldn’t remember what to call it in Czech. I remembered later, but I wonder if that was the beginning of the end - where English overtook Czech

I recently saw my early school reports. The teacher always remarked on how much better I would be doing if someone were to read with me in English at home. Nevertheless, my parents continued to read us only Czech bedtime stories and it wasn’t until I was about 8 years old and discovered the joys of reading books from the library that my school reports took a dramatic turn for the better. I could think about how my parents wronged me, but since I managed quite well all the way through to Medical school and beyond, I only thank them for keeping my Czech alive. A lot of the other immigrant parents spoke English at home, possibly to improve their own English, I don’t know. Their children’s mother tongue soon died out.

I grew up to become an Aussie. I love my country fiercely and although I have travelled extensively, I would live nowhere else. I love the climate, the freedom, the safety, the opportunity, the wide-open spaces, the cicadas singing in the trees in summer, the beautiful beaches, the rainforests, the incredible wealth of influence of other cultures. Yes, the multiculturalism. The variety of smells and foods and languages all around me as I walk down a street of Melbourne. I love the fact that most of my friends originated in other lands.

I call myself a Czech Aussie. Not an Aussie Aussie. Aussie Aussies don’t celebrate Christmas on the 24th or cook gulas or bake vanocka and mazanec. Their parents tend to be a little less strict and a lot less embarrassing – well, that’s how I felt as I was growing up. Aussie Aussies have peanut butter on white bread for lunch, not egg and salami on rye (why such strong smelling foods, Czech mum???). Their mothers don’t find armpit shaving a shocking thing for a teenaged girl to want to do. Their parents wave their arms around a lot less when they speak. They don’t seem to speak as loudly in public as Czech parents do. They don’t have a constant stream of relatives coming over to stay from a land far away. They don’t go to language school on Saturday mornings.

mornings. I am much better at defining all these things at 34 years of age. It used to be much more confusing. I knew I was different to the Aussie Aussies, but just couldn’t put my finger on it. The first time I visited the Czech Republic was an immense learning experience. I lived with my older sister in Prague for six weeks, did work experience at some local hospitals (as part of my Medical course) and got to observe these “real” Czechs in action. I loved it there. So much happening, so much culture, so much history. It felt familiar in a way. I felt understood in a different way, too. By the time I went home I had recognised the Czech part of me and I cherish it. But as much as I love my birthplace, it just is not home and I do not belong there.

I can see why all our immigrant parents cling together in little social circles. They understand each other’s origins and the experiences they have been through in leaving their homelands. They are almost like a family away from home. What I find interesting is how the children (my generation) respond. Some embrace their new home and culture and leave their roots behind altogether, some try so hard to keep their ‘Czechness’ alive and marry other Czechs or even go back to Czech Republic to live, and then there are the in-betweens like me.

I married a man who, although not Czech in origin, has grown up with European immigrant parents. Enough in common, if not mother tongue. I continue to speak Czech with my older siblings and Mum and her friends. I now also have some Czech friends with whom I speak Czech. Funnily enough, when we were very young, my younger sister and I began to speak in English together and it’s so much quicker and easier for us that I doubt we’ll ever break the habit.

I think and dream in English, so I was astounded when my first son was born and my natural reaction was to speak to him in Czech. I must point out that when I speak Czech it just comes out, ie. I don’t stop to translate. But my Czech is very basic. My vocabulary is limited and grammar and spelling are atrocious. I have had no schooling in the Czech Republic and 2 ? years of Saturday school in Australia really is not enough. So everything considered, I have been proud of what I DO have. But now that I have two sons to whom I speak only in Czech, I wonder if it will be enough. It has been a real dilemma; I could teach them such good English, as opposed to such bad Czech!

When the other children in our Mothers’ group started saying things and Lukey kept silent, for many months I worried. Was there something wrong? Was it the bilingualism? And not just having two languages, but having so little of the Czech. I only spoke Czech to Lukey and to my Mum over the phone, otherwise chatting away in English all day. Everyone else, radios and TVs only spoke English. On the other hand, Lukey’s level of comprehension astounded me. Eventually he did start to talk, and by 2.5 years of age I felt he was doing really well and had probably caught up with his peers. His English is always a step ahead of his Czech, and I marvel to hear what he knows when I listen to him speak to Daddy. To me he only speaks Czech, with a little English scattered through – I do sometimes fear there are things he isn’t talking about because he simply doesn’t have the Czech words for them. To his one year old brother he speaks either language. And he happily translates for Daddy, with a giggle at Daddy’s obvious deficiency!

Initially, speaking Czech to my baby was easy. Mama, voda, pusu, nos, kocicka, na, dolu, papa… Now that Lukas speaks in sentences, I battle all day to speak Czech as well as I can, but there is a lot of English thrown in where I don’t know the Czech word, and I am afraid when I correct Lukey’s grammar that I am doing it incorrectly. Overall I am proud of us, and it was wonderful when my Czech sister and her husband came to visit for a week and could easily converse with Lukas. But there are times when I wonder if I can last.

Sometimes I feel limited in what I can say and how well I can express myself. Although a son is not meant to be a soul mate, I do want to be able to have some deeper conversations with him as he gets older. The only person with whom I can talk at this level in Czech is my Mum, and I think that’s because she knows my funny Czech so well and has no problem with the English I throw in. Anyone else I speak to in Czech, I find I hit a certain level and get stuck. Cannot go deeper. Too hard. So I worry it will cause a barrier between my sons and I. Will the intimacy of having our own private language (Czech) make up for it?

Sometimes I feel limited in what I can say and how well I can express myself. Although a son is not meant to be a soul mate, I do want to be able to have some deeper conversations with him as he gets older. The only person with whom I can talk at this level in Czech is my Mum, and I think that’s because she knows my funny Czech so well and has no problem with the English I throw in. Anyone else I speak to in Czech, I find I hit a certain level and get stuck. Cannot go deeper. Too hard. So I worry it will cause a barrier between my sons and I. Will the intimacy of having our own private language (Czech) make up for it?

Maybe the main reason to keep up the Czech in our family is that I cannot help myself. During my first labour I hardly made a noise. The pain was so enormous; I just went very deep inside myself. I remember at one point just moaning to my probably very confused Australian midwife and obstetrician, “Jezis Maria, takova bolest”. When one of my boys falls over and I rush over to pick him up, it’s “ale, milacku, pojd sem” that comes out of my mouth. Australian to the casual observer, I am Czech at heart. A Czech Aussie