Khmer is my third foreign language, but my first with no relation to English. I’ve found it helpful to seize hold of patterns and trends in the way the Khmer language is organized. So I’ll let you in on a few of them. The Khmer language features...
-Differences in word order. Adjectives follow the nouns they describe, and question words often come at the end. “Why do you have a blue book?” would turn into “[Uncle/little sister/etc.] have book blue why?”
-Simpler verbs and nouns. In Khmer, there’s no need for articles (ex. a/the/some), verb conjugation, verb tenses, or plural noun forms. It’s correct to say, “He go Vietnam yesterday” or “She have friend many.” Extra words like “yesterday” and “many” clarify meaning, or you can add more general words like “past” or “plural.” But you’d never alter the verb or noun itself, as English does (ex. go => went, friend => friends).
-Lots of compound words. A daughter is “child girl,” a driver is “person drive car,” a fridge is “container ice,” milk is “water from cow,” lime is “orange cat,” a bath towel is “towel stomach cow.” Hey, I didn’t say they were 100% logical to foreigners! It really does make it easier, though, because they often build on one another, so you can multiply your vocabulary quickly.
-Lots of nasal sounds. “Nasal” means the air is coming through your nose, not your mouth. Picture a stereotypical French laugh or the first syllable in “français.” That’s how Khmer often sounds – probably the majority of their vowels are nasal. I tell my students this helps them learn French, also a frequently nasal language.
-Lots of French loan words for things they imported. “Robe” (dress), “café” (coffee), “freins” (brakes), “valise” (suitcase). All of these are pronounced with a Khmer accent, meaning they don’t pronounce final consonants: valise => vali. I love loan words.
-Classifiers for many nouns. Someone wouldn’t say, “I have two children.” Instead, they’d say, “I have child two person.” I’ve only learned a few of the maybe 20 classifiers, but so far my favorite is “head” (kbahl) to classify books, cattle, horses, buffalo, and enemy soldiers. “I have book three head.”
-Lots and lots of vowels. English has 5 or 6, which make a total of maybe 20 sounds. Khmer has 35, making a total of over 50 sounds. 23 vowels are dependent, meaning they have to be placed with a consonant that determines the sound they make. Each vowel has a certain position in relation to the consonant: it can go to the left, right, top, or bottom, or a combination of all those. I haven’t learned any of the 12 independent vowels yet. It’s not quite as bad as I’m making it sound: for me, knowing the meaning of what I’m reading is much harder than deciphering the sounds. And I’m very thankful that it’s mostly phonetic: even English breaks the spelling rules far more often. Still, it’s relatively slow going. The good news is, it really has helped my pronunciation to better understand these vowels.
-Different registers, depending on formality. I’ve only studied one, for speaking with “normal” people. But if I wanted to talk with a monk, or the king, or an animal, I’d need a whole different set of verbs. I think there are six.
-Complicated terms of address. Khmer has a word for “you,” but it’s rarely used. Instead, like in many Asian languages, you mostly address people according to their age in relation to yours: auntie for a woman younger than your mom, grandpa for a man older than your dad, younger brother, niece, etc. This means it’s important to judge people’s age correctly and quickly, and it’s not rude to ask how old someone is, if you’re actually having a conversation with them. But with quick exchanges, like at the market, sometimes I misjudge them at first. Also, sometimes it’s more complicated: I can call a girl “bong” (older sibling), but if I say it to a guy, I have to include his name or it’ll sound like we’re a couple. That’s why if you don’t know a guy’s name (ex. a motodup driver), you usually just call him “uncle.” I’ve probably even said “uncle” to guys younger than me. If it’s a very close friend or loved one, sometimes you call them “myself.” I still wonder how that works: if you want to say “I love you,” how do they know you don't mean“I love myself?”
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