"But you speak English so well!" (part of Schema Magazine's Mo-Canada column)

Have you ever been at a dinner, a party, or any social gathering with Canadians where the topic of being a newcomer comes up? Since moving to Vancouver, I’ve noticed that people will often say something that leaves me feeling uncomfortable.

Here’s an example of a conversation I had with a stranger at a a dinner gathering. We exchanged small talk—I was Egyptian Bahraini, she was Canadian. Then, the inevitable.

Stranger: “No way! Seriously? You must have studied in the States before though?”

Me: “Nope, this is actually my first time in North America or even outside the Middle East really.”

Stranger: “Are you kidding me? But you speak English so well! Are you sure?”

Me: “Uh, yes. I’m sure.”

Stranger: “But you don’t have an accent!”

Me: “Oh really? Well I guess I don’t.”

Stranger: “I mean, like, how did you learn to speak like this?”

Me: “Well, uh, school, I guess. I’m educated?”

Stranger: “But like, you have no accent! Wow, you must have studied in an American school?”

Me: “Well, I did have some American and British teachers yes.”

Stranger: “Wow, that’s crazy! I can’t believe you haven’t been here before and you have no accent. Do other people there also speak English so well?”

I don’t know how to respond to the statement, “But you speak English so well!” I don’t really know, I just do. My accent just happened. It took me a while to get to where I’m at, for sure.

In Bahrain I was in an Indian school until grade four, then I moved to another school with an American curriculum school for a year, followed by a British school and then another American school (all in Bahrain).

Believe me, at one point my accent was a hodgepodge of all the above and it was not pretty.

But I never actively tried to perfect my English. Just ask me to say the word ‘Wednesday’ or a word with multiple ‘T’s in it, like ‘tattletale’. Apparently, these words give me away. I am also definitely not an anomaly; most of my friends back home speak English like me, and some speak it even better.

So when people say, “But you speak English so well!” and expect me to justify my speaking ability, I don’t really know what to say other than, “Yes, I know. I learned it at school.”

This answer usually doesn’t satisfy the person asking. Perhaps they were hoping that I had a cool story, like I was part of a C.I.A ‘Arab de-accenting’ experiment. That might explain why I don’t fit their stereotype of Arabs speaking English, with rolling ‘R’s and guttural sounds. Unfortunately, the truth is I just paid more attention in English class because I was saving my zoning-out energy for math.

Has someone ever said “But you speak English so well!” to you? How did it make you feel?

What's up with your name? (part of Schema Magazine's Mo-Canada column)

One day, I was working out with a friend of mine. We had been there for quite some time, when out of nowhere, a gym employee came up to me.

“Excuse me,” she said. She was holding my Bahraini national I.D. card and looked puzzled. “Is this really your name?” she asked, a little inflection of amused surprise in her voice.

“Yes..?” I said, wiping the torrential sweat off my forehead.

“No way!” she dropped her jaw in disbelief. “Can you read it out to me? How do you say it?”

Oh right. The name. I should have known that’s what this was about. You see, my name has become quite the conversation starter.

It’s always with a little glee that people who know me ask me to bring out my I.D. in gatherings. “Take a look at Mohamed’s name,” they say to an unsuspecting new friend.

It’s become quite funny actually. Sometimes when a conversation lulls and I don’t know the person too well, I tend to whip out my card.

“Hey, have I ever shown you my full name?”

Yup, in Canada I use my name as an ice-breaker.

To help you better understand, let me introduce my name to you. You might want to take a deep breath if you’re going to read this out loud. Here we go: Mohamed Ahmed Abdelghaffar Ateya Ebrahim Algarf.

Think it’s a little long? Allow me to explain. This was the result of a family feud. My mother wanted to name me one name, my father another and each of my three sisters had a suggestion. Eventually, everyone was exasperated and they decided to name me all of them.

Gotcha!

I explain this quite often so I might as well have some fun. But here’s the real answer: Mohamed is my first name and Algarf is my surname. The whole name is my paternal lineage. Ahmed is my father, Abdelghaffar is my grandfather, etc. Lineage is very important in Arab culture because family is highly valued. It’s the way things are there, I guess we all have longer names. In fact, I had always assumed that this was the standard everywhere. In Vancouver, people’s names came as a shock to me. When I’m asked for my full name I don’t start reciting this roster—I say Mohamed Algarf. So I pretty much assumed that it was the same thing here and that people introduced themselves with their abbreviated name.

My first time seeing a Canadian passport with just three names was quite the shock, but I think some Canadians remain much more startled by my name. My favorite question I get about it is, “How do kids even memorize their names?”

My answer is: one name at a time, my friend, one name at a time.

What about you? Have you ever gotten confused reactions to your name? Have you ever been in a situation where you had to explain it?