The rain in Spain: my adventures with tajwid
Learning proper Qur'anic Arabic pronunciation, and learning better balance.
I can’t recommend the two film adaptations of “Pygmalion” highly enough: the first, made in the 1930s, pictured above, and of course, “My Fair Lady” with Audrey Hepburn and Rex Harrison, from the 1960s. “My Fair Lady” is the musical version of the play, with lyrics and tunes by Lerner and Loewe.
All you youngsters out there may never have heard of either. So here’s a summary of George Bernard Shaw’s play “Pygmalion.” As a lark and as a proof of his fabulous teaching abilities, high-class British linguist Henry Higgins takes on a challenging student of diction, a young Cockney lass named Eliza Doolittle. He purports to “make a lady” out of her simply by enabling her to use the right vowels and consonants in “good company.”1
After many days of repetition, tears, yelling, and vocal wear and tear, Higgins pronounces Doolittle fit for display and swanning about high society. She proves to be more than up to the task and, what’s more, the lords and ladies she meets take to her mightily. The question remains, however: has he “made her into a lady” ? Has HE made HER anything? Where’s her own effort in all this… not to mention the significance of her own character in being a “lady”?
And what does this all have to do with tajwid, which is the science of beautiful pronunciation of Qur'anic Arabic? Well, let me tell you that learning how to make sounds that don’t exist in my first language, English, was a sight easier when a) those languages weren’t too far away from those made in English and b) I was 10 years old. Arabic is quite different in a lot of respects.
And so I find myself repeating gestures of tongue, mouth, and breath, over and over, kind of like Eliza Doolittle. I have a lovely teacher of tajwid and, through a set of circumstances, I have a private class with her twice a week. She is a devout Muslim and lives her deen in many ways, including teaching and encouraging her tajwid students. And sometimes we students need a lot of encouragement. When she told me the other day that the “L” in Arabic, the “lam”, was made by pressing the SIDES of your tongue against the upper palate (not the tip of the tongue!) I think you might have been actually able to see my mind explode. How will I EVER do this, I thought.
A few hours later, I thought of Eliza, and Henry, and what Eliza’s triumph really was. It’s Eliza’s beautiful character that makes her likeable and acceptable in the high society to which her diction work gives her an open door. And it was Eliza’s character that enabled her to stick to her lessons, even with the insufferable Higgins browbeating her at times. (Do they “fall in love”? In a way. Watch the films for yourself. Bernard Shaw apparently never fell in romantic love with anyone.)
After I was bowled over by the news of the “lam,” Eliza and Henry came to mind, and I had a good laugh. And I remembered: I. Don’t. Give. Myself. Any. Abilities. Allah SWT does. Should I learn to say the lam in the correct way, it’s because Allah SWT wants me to do so. Should I flail away at it and say the American “l” despite my efforts not to, it’s because Allah SWT wants me to do so.
So: browbeating myself for “failure” à la Henry Higgins, thinking it might spur me to “do better,” is a fool’s errand at best and self-destructive at worst. And it’s probably shirk into the bargain, since I’m putting my own will on a par with God’s by taking a Higgins-like attitude. Just like Higgins, puffing myself up for any “success” I might achieve, or berating myself for not hitting an imaginary mark, is entirely missing the point.
In “Pygmalion,” Eliza shows up every day, for hours, so that she can become a “fine lady” when her character already guarantees that she is in fact that. And I show up and put in the work for tajwid because I want to strive in the way of Allah SWT. I want my tajwid to reflect care and gratitude. It’s the least I can do to praise and thank my God.
The title of this post comes from a tune in “My Fair Lady” that arises in the context of the story from one of the vocal exercises Higgins prescribes for Doolittle. I happen to live in Spain, so extra hilarity ensures.