The Most Difficult Question

As the first exchange student ever in that school I was like the star of a freak show. I was bombarded with numerous questions that were mostly either difficult or, quite frankly, stupid.

“How much does it snow in Finland in winter?”

I don't know. There's snow, and then there's more snow, and then some of it melts, and freezes into ice, and then there comes more snow on top of that ice. Do you all take statistics about how many millimeters it rains during the winter months?

“Did you travel here by car or by plane?”

I'm not sure if you're saying that you have never seen a world map or that you usually sleep through geography lessons. No, I didn't drive my car through the Atlantic ocean.

I didn't actually mind the questions. I did my best to answer them, and usually people were happy with whatever I came up with. After a few questions they got bored and left me alone, probably immediately forgetting what I had said to them two minutes earlier.

There were some questions I would have preferred to skip though. No one, including me, could have guessed that the most embarrassing question was this.

“Give us a sample of Finnish!”

When you learn a foreign language you most likely learn it through your native language. You think of a sentence in the language you're most familiar with, then you translate it in your mind to the other language before actually saying it out loud. That takes a lot of effort. It's much easier if you can skip the translation part and start thinking straight in the foreign language instead. That's why I hated that question. After a couple of months hearing, reading and speaking only English, I formed my thoughts in that language. Switching the language my brain works on is not easy. I struggled to express myself in Finnish, even though it was my native language.

“Just say something, like who you are, and the names of your family members.” The teacher tries to help me when I'm struggling to find something to say.

Okay. I can do this. Surely I remember my family. Right?

Minun nimeni on Minna. My name is Minna. I struggle a little with pronunciation but they're not going to know if I have a slight accent. So far so good.

Perheeseeni kuuluu äiti, isä ja isoveli. My family includes mother, father, and an older brother.

Veljeni nimi on Toni. My brother's name is Toni. Isäni nimi on… What is my father's name again? Is it Heikki? The name tastes right in my mouth. I think I got it right.

Äitini nimi on… My ability to dig out memories that aren't in English seems to end there. I have no idea what my mother's name might be. I could fill in some other name. It's not like they're going to check if I'm telling the truth. Any name, some random Finnish name. Some word that sounds like a name. Anything.

My mind draws blank.

I mumble something incoherent. They don't really care what her name is, right? They just wanted to hear what Finnish sounds like.

“What was that last one? Your mother's name?”

Teacher seems actually interested. Why is she interested? I try to buy time even though it doesn't help me any. What did you ask again?

“I didn't hear what was your mother's name. Could you please repeat that?” She speaks extra slowly and clearly to make sure I understand her.

I really wish I could repeat that. I wonder what they'd say if I told them I can't remember my mother's name. Would they think I'm lying? Would they think I'm stupid, or crazy? Would they assume something bad about my mother?

I open and close my mouth like a fish gasping for air. I… I don't…

Riikka! That's my mother's name. It’s Riikka.

Teacher tries to say it after me, failing pretty badly, but I smile and nod to tell her it's close enough. Finally she thanks me for being the circus monkey for the morning and gets on with the lesson.

A few hours later I remember my mother's name. It's Riitta, with double t. In the evening I make a small note to myself with the names of my family members in it. Just in case someone asks again.