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10 OUR LIFE • January-February 2024 НАВЧАЄМО • EDUCATE I Dream in English (and Curse in Ukrainian) Words, words, words... It is safe to say that words have always been at the center of my life. As a journalist, interpreter, and translator, I have spent my career searching for just the right word, in English and Ukrainian, for every situation. With an eye to the reader and an ear to the listener, I was meticulous about stringing those words together into what I hoped were harmoni - ous sentences, paragraphs, pages, and audio scripts. However, I rarely considered the issue of native language until a United Nations initiative prompted me to give it some thought. The UN designated February 21 as International Mother Lan - guage Day, and I found myself wondering what my answer would be if asked about my native language, Is it Ukrainian or English? The long answer could involve calculating critical periods in my language acquisition timeline, discussing the concept of linguis - tic duality, or exploring immersion in a linguistic environment. But that seemed like too academic an approach. The short an - swer is much simpler and is confirmed, not by science, but by a deep-seated feeling in my heart: It is both. I use them inter - changeably, depending on the situation, the subject matter, my interlocutor, and my mood. I dream in English but talk to babies and pets in Ukrainian. I curse in Ukrainian (don’t tell my parents!) but always count in English. Yes, I have two native languages, and they are embodied in two of my favorite books – my childhood bukvar (alphabet reader) and my first professional slovar (dictionary). We spoke Ukrainian exclusively at home, so naturally my first word was in Ukrainian. (For the record, it was very unoriginal: Mama.) The fact that we lived in Manhattan’s East Village, and I was surrounded by English speakers, made no difference. I knew no English until I turned 5 and went to kindergarten, where I picked up my “other” native language. The language gap be - tween home and school was bridged fairly smoothly within six weeks, my parents tell me. Marta Zielyk , Branch 64, New York City Yet my favorite book remained a bukvar from which I learned the Ukrainian alphabet. It was published in the early 1960s in the diaspora with witty illustrations by the talented Ukrainian artist Eduard Kozak. I was especially amused by the letter “Б” for “ bubon ” (drum) with its picture of children dancing and a musician play - ing on a fat, round drum. This bukvar was handed down to my two younger sisters who also learned the Ukrain - ian alphabet with its help. Unfortu - nately, all three of us left our mark on it – doodles, squiggles, scratches,
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