It goes without saying that from one language to another, there can be a combination of sounds that resembles something offensive in one language, while at the same time describing something of the mundane in the next. I have admired myself for being able to keep a straight face in the times that I hears words like faqat that sound a lot like something rather crude to my English ears. I do admit to giggling a bit when I learned the words for “bird” because I used it in an English sentence: That’s mighty big assfoor a little girl. For the most part, though, a word will strike me as funny, but all you will see is the silent shaking of my shoulders as I quietly try to get my immaturity under control. There are moments, though, when the word hits without warning and I can’t, no matter the mental exercises and relaxation techniques I utilize, regain my composure.

A classmate was telling his traveling story in front of the class. Noticing that some of us (read: me) were not fully paying attention to other students when they spoke, the teacher required us to write down any mistakes that we noticed. I was paying close attention to this particular student because he, like my husband, is a whizz at language and to find a mistake would be glorious! He must have sensed my overzealousness for error finding because he threw out a word that sent me into a spiral that I just could not recover from:

CM (classmate): We drove from this city to the other and our…. how do you say travel guide?

Teacher: mumbles something I didn’t hear

CM: Oh yes, right, ‘morshit’…

Me: inward shock. Did I just hear what I think I heard?

CM: …’morshit’

Me: inward giggle.

CM: …’morshit’

Me: pffffffffft! HAHAHAHAHA

At this point, I buried my face into my notebook and folded it up over my face while I roaringly laughed into the pages. My laughter continued long and loud, much longer and louder than ever before. I laughed at first because of the shock and mounting amusement with each repetition of the word, but then my laughter bubbled up on top and over itself because I just couldn’t believe how much I was losing control in class!

With class ending, and the sounds of shuffling papers filling the space as students shoved books into their bags in preparation of going home, my classmate asked our teacher if she knew why I was laughing. Amazingly, he knew the Arabic word for “poop” and was able to communicate what I heard. She giggled.

I’m pretty sure there is a “What whitegirl did today in class” poster in the teachers’ lounge. They certainly have enough material to fill an afternoon, if not a book.