At the age of 50, I still cannot speak the language of my grandmother and great-grandparents - Danish. My first language is English.
I have toyed with the Danish language over the years but it never amounted to anything. My Danish grandmother, who also spoke fluent English, moved to the north of England with her new English husband just after the Second World War. They raised a boy and a girl. My grandmother was an extrovert and she sought to integrate as much as possible, whilst at the same retaining close connection with her Danish identity. Her family regularly visited her parents and brothers and sisters back in Denmark and kept in touch by telephone.
I will probably never know how much Danish my mother understands. However, my grandmother once told me about an experience my mother and uncle had after returning from a summer holiday in Denmark when they were both young. They could only speak Danish and had forgotten how to speak English. They didn't go out to play with their friends until they could speak English again. I can only imagine it must have been terrifying, knowing that they were English but could not speak English, feeling trapped. I suspect this was a defining moment for my mother, and probably made her decide to turn her back on her Danish identity.
My mother never spoke a single word of Danish to me. My grandmother never taught me Danish probably because this would cause conflict with her daughter. I had been told my grandmother was Danish when I was a small boy, but any family Danish identity which existed was never expressed in our home.
When I realised recently that I was not a whole Christian because I did not have a fully developed English and Danish identity, I realised that not understanding Danish meant I couldn't have an identity.
Now, as I begin to learn Danish, I begin to believe that I can be a person who expresses his emotions in Danish to Danish people. I will be able to relate to Danes. I will be able to join in conversations over a cup of coffee. I know many Danes speak good English, but by speaking in Danish I think I would feel more that I belonged. In worshipping Jesus in Danish and in a lively Danish church I would truly find freedom and I would feel I had returned Home.
Sadly, I am learning Danish in private and I am developing my Danish identity in private. I will probably never greet my mother in Danish. We will probably never sit down together and have a conversation in Danish over a cup of coffee. I will never wish her Happy Birthday in Danish. I will never wish her a Merry Christmas in Danish. My mother will probably go to her grave without ever making a first move to speak with me in Danish. I feel that it is like a punishment, a curse placed upon my family.
I have toyed with the Danish language over the years but it never amounted to anything. My Danish grandmother, who also spoke fluent English, moved to the north of England with her new English husband just after the Second World War. They raised a boy and a girl. My grandmother was an extrovert and she sought to integrate as much as possible, whilst at the same retaining close connection with her Danish identity. Her family regularly visited her parents and brothers and sisters back in Denmark and kept in touch by telephone.
I will probably never know how much Danish my mother understands. However, my grandmother once told me about an experience my mother and uncle had after returning from a summer holiday in Denmark when they were both young. They could only speak Danish and had forgotten how to speak English. They didn't go out to play with their friends until they could speak English again. I can only imagine it must have been terrifying, knowing that they were English but could not speak English, feeling trapped. I suspect this was a defining moment for my mother, and probably made her decide to turn her back on her Danish identity.
My mother never spoke a single word of Danish to me. My grandmother never taught me Danish probably because this would cause conflict with her daughter. I had been told my grandmother was Danish when I was a small boy, but any family Danish identity which existed was never expressed in our home.
When I realised recently that I was not a whole Christian because I did not have a fully developed English and Danish identity, I realised that not understanding Danish meant I couldn't have an identity.
Now, as I begin to learn Danish, I begin to believe that I can be a person who expresses his emotions in Danish to Danish people. I will be able to relate to Danes. I will be able to join in conversations over a cup of coffee. I know many Danes speak good English, but by speaking in Danish I think I would feel more that I belonged. In worshipping Jesus in Danish and in a lively Danish church I would truly find freedom and I would feel I had returned Home.
Sadly, I am learning Danish in private and I am developing my Danish identity in private. I will probably never greet my mother in Danish. We will probably never sit down together and have a conversation in Danish over a cup of coffee. I will never wish her Happy Birthday in Danish. I will never wish her a Merry Christmas in Danish. My mother will probably go to her grave without ever making a first move to speak with me in Danish. I feel that it is like a punishment, a curse placed upon my family.
