How Im using LEGO to teach Arabic Ghada Wali
I come from Egypt,
which is also called Umm al-Dunya,
the Mother of the World.
It’s a rich country
filled with stories of rebellion,
stories of civilizational
triumph and downfall
and the rich, religious,
ethnic, cultural and linguistic diversity.
Growing up in such an environment,
I became a strong believer
in the power of storytelling.
As I searched for the medium
with which to tell my story,
I stumbled upon graphic design.
I would like to share with you a project
of how graphic design
can bring the Arabic language to life.
But first, let me tell you
why I want to do this.
I believe that graphic design
can change the world.
At least in my very own city of Cairo,
it helped overthrow
two separate dictators.
As you can see from those photos,
the power and potential of graphic design
as a tool for positive change
is undeniably strong.
Egypt’s 2011 revolution
was also a grassroots design revolution.
Everyone became a creator.
People were the real designers
and, just overnight,
Cairo was flooded with posters,
signage, graffiti.
Visual communication
was the medium that spoke
far louder than words
when the population of over
90 million voices were suppressed
for almost 30 years.
It was precisely this political
and social suppression,
coupled with decades of colonialism
and miseducation
that slowly eroded the significance
of the Arabic script in the region.
All of these countries once used Arabic.
Now it’s just the green and the blue.
To put it simply,
the Arabic script is dying.
In postcolonial Arab countries functioning
in an increasingly globalized world,
it is a growing alarm
that less and less people are using
the Arabic script to communicate.
As I was studying my master’s in Italy,
I noticed myself missing Arabic.
I missed looking at the letters,
digesting their meaning.
So one day, I walked into
one of the biggest libraries in Italy
in search of an Arabic book.
I was surprised to find
that this is what they had
under the category of
“Arabic/Middle Eastern books.”
(Laughter)
Fear, terrorism and destruction.
One word: ISIS.
My heart ached
that this is how we are
portrayed to the world,
even from a literary perspective.
I asked myself: Whatever happened
to the world-renowned writers
like Naguib Mahfouz, Khalil Gibran,
iconic poets like Mutanabbi,
Nizar Qabbani?
Think about this.
The cultural products
of an entire region of the world,
as rich, as diverse,
have been deemed redundant,
if not ignored altogether.
The cultural products
of an entire region of the world
have been barred from imparting
any kind of real impact
on global media productions
and contemporary social discourse.
And then I reminded myself
of my number one belief:
design can change the world.
All you need is for someone
to catch a glimpse of your work,
feel, connect.
And so I started.
I thought about how can I stop the world
from seeing us as evil,
as terrorists of this planet,
and start perceiving us as equals,
fellow humans?
How can I save and honor the Arabic script
and share it with
other people, other cultures?
And then it hit me:
What if I combined
the two most significant symbols
of innocence and Arab identity?
Maybe then people could resonate.
What’s more pure,
innocent and fun as LEGO?
It’s a universal child’s toy.
You play with them, you build with them,
and with them, you imagine
endless possibilities.
My eureka moment was to find
a bilingual solution for Arabic education,
because effective
communication and education
is the road to more tolerant communities.
However, the Arabic and Latin scripts
do not only represent different worlds
but also create technical difficulties
for both Eastern and Western communities
on a daily basis.
There are so many reasons
why Arabic and Latin are different,
but here are some of the main ones.
Yes, both use upward and downward strokes,
but have completely different baselines.
Arabic tends to be more calligraphic
and connectivity is important
to the Arabic language,
whose letters have to be mostly joined
in order to articulate a given word.
It also uses an entirely different
system of punctuation and diacritics.
But most importantly,
Arabic has no capital letters.
Instead it has four
different letter forms:
initial, medial, isolated and final.
I want to introduce the Arabic language
to young learners, foreign speakers,
but most importantly help refugees
integrate to their host societies
through creating
a bilingual learning system,
a two-way flow of communication.
And I called it “Let’s Play.”
The idea is to simply create
a fun and engaging way of learning
Modern Standard Arabic through LEGO.
These are the two words. “Let’s Play.”
Every colored bar marks an Arabic letter.
As you can see, the letter
is explained in form, sound
and examples of words in function,
in addition to the equivalent in Latin.
Together, they form a fun pocket book
with the 29 Arabic letters
and the four different forms,
plus a 400-word dictionary.
So this is how the page looks like.
You have the letter,
the transliteration in Latin
and the description underneath.
I’ll take you through the process.
So first in my tiny studio in Florence,
I built the letters.
I photographed each letter separately,
and then I retouched every letter
and chose the correct color background
and typefaces to use.
Ultimately, I created the full letter set,
which is 29 letters
times four different forms.
That’s 116 letters build just in one week.
I believe that information
should and can be fun, portable.
This book is the final product,
which I would eventually like to publish
and translate into
as many languages in the world,
so that Arabic teaching and learning
becomes fun, easy and accessible globally.
With this book, I hope to save
my nation’s beautiful script.
(Applause)
Thank you.
Working on this project
was a form of visual meditation,
like a Sufi dance,
a prayer to a better planet.
One set of building blocks
made two languages.
LEGO is just a metaphor.
It’s because we are all made
of the same building unit,
is that I can see a future
where the barriers between people
all come tumbling down.
So no matter how ugly
the world around us gets,
or how many discouraging books
on ISIS, the terrorist group,
and not Isis, the ancient
Egyptian goddess,
continue to be published,
I will keep building one colorful world.
Shukran, which means “thank you.”
(Applause)
Thank you. Thank you so much.
Thank you.