Shadowing Practice: Why It Sucks to Be a Ghost Bride (in Ming Dynasty) - Learn English Speaking with Video
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1
You're born in 16th century China, in a small village that smells of wet soil and wood smoke.
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You are the first daughter of a rice farmer.
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Your first impression of father is his laugh, a loud and easy laugh that comforts you.
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You spend your first years playing in the house with your father's laugh in the background.
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When you turn three, your playground now includes the rice paddies in Village Square.
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children.
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By the time you turn five, you already have siblings.
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Sisters who beg your mom to tell stories while she braids your hair
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and brothers that steal your food when no one is watching.
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Your family is comfortable, not wealthy, but you don't lack.
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You are 13 when the red dresses start appearing.
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You watch girls your age disappear into bridal sedans and emerge as wives.
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You also watch them leave their fathers homes and you feel envious.
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Not in a bad way.
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You just want the same and you want the story that comes after.
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After all, getting married is a woman's greatest achievement in your village.
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Sometimes you joke with your mother about what your husband will look like.
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Tall and kind, you decide.
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You tell her that he'll have a good family, a warm house, and a laugh like your father's.
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Your mother keeps braiding and smiles.
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A year later, a woman arrives at your door.
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She's elegantly dressed with jade earrings and a silk scarf.
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After complimenting you on your beauty, she and your father disappear inside for an hour.
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her give your father a pouch of coins.
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That night, your father calls you.
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When you meet him, You see your mother sitting beside him.
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He tells you that woman from earlier is a matchmaker
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that she came regarding your marriage He asks
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if you are willing to marry the son of a wealthy
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merchant from a neighboring town You say yes before he finishes
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the sentence you're surprised he asked at all You're already imagining
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your red dress as you run to tell your siblings the good news
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You don't look at your mother's face if you had looked carefully You would have seen a tear rolling down.
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By the end of the week, you've told everyone.
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Your friends first, then the neighbors.
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You even tell the woman who sells vegetables at the market.
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You also wonder why a wealthy merchant's son would fancy a rice farmer's daughter.
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With no clear answer, you tell yourself that your ancestors were responsible, and your beauty sealed it.
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Still, every time you tell someone, your mother warns you not to.
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She warns you with a face that says, Don't say too much.
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Don't boast.
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Wait until it is official.
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You do not wait.
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You cannot.
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At the same time, your preparations begin.
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New clothes appear, fabrics your family would not normally spend money on.
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Your mother spends her evening sewing things she wants you to have.
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When things are less busy, she always holds you for an embrace.
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Still, she always releases you before you can read her face.
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You interpret all of it as emotion appropriate to a daughter leaving home.
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Parents feel things at these moments.
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Everyone knows this: you interpret everything through the only story you know.
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The one where the red dress is the ending and the ending is good.
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Your mother finishes the last of the sewing a month after you agreed.
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She folds everything carefully as she hands each cloth to you.
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A week after all preparations are done, The sedan arrives, and as you look at it, you know that your life is about to change forever.
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The sedan moves the next day.
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You sit in it for hours as you journey through mountain roads that get narrower the further you go.
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You watch the landscape change through the curtain gap.
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The rice paddies give way to pine forests.
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The pine forests give way to something older.
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Villages you don't recognize.
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you're finally there.
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Your sedan has arrived at a village with stone buildings.
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You look at them, and you realize that they're older than anything in your town.
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The rooftops are also curved in a style you haven't seen.
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As your sedan passes through, you notice that the people avoid your procession.
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You look at their eyes and think it's because they fear your in -laws.
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But when you exchange eye contact with a woman, All you see is pity.
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You wonder why.
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But the sound of the sedan stopping brings you back to your senses.
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In front of the sedan is a big house.
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You see a family waiting at its gate.
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You see an old man, and from his dressing, you know he's the merchant.
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your father -in -law next to him is a woman your mother -in -law
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You watch her cross the courtyard and take both your hands before you have fully stepped out of the sedan.
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Looking at her face, You notice she's weeping.
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You think of it as tears of joy.
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It seems everyone has been weeping for joy these past months.
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You're soon taken to your room.
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It's beautiful.
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In it, there are red curtains.
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There are also red lanterns strung from the ceiling and there's even a red bedding folded with precision on the sleeping mat.
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Everything is in the color of celebration.
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You move around the room touching things the curtain fabric the
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lacquered table edge You feel something almost like relief unclenching in your chest
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Then you see the altar it sits across the room like it has always been there
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and There's a painting at the center.
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It's that of a young man.
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handsome, serious -eyed.
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You also see incense burning in a ceramic holder, fruit arranged in careful formation, and below all of that, is paper money.
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Paper shoes, paper clothing folded into neat squares.
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You know what paper offerings are for.
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Every child in China knows that you burn paper for the dead.
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You look at the painting.
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You look at the offerings.
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You assume the man must be their most illustrious ancestor.
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He was probably the one that started the merchant trade of this family.
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You believe his altar here is for the ancestor to watch and judge the latest addition to their family.
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At that same moment, Your mother -in -law walks in.
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You ask when you will meet your husband.
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She smiles and says, "Sundir." very soon.
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That night, you cannot sleep.
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You need your mother's voice, your father's laugh, anything familiar to feel comfortable in an unfamiliar place.
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So you move through the dark corridor toward the room where your parents were given quarters for the night.
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Light comes from under a door at the end of the hall.
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Voices.
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You move closer.
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The door is open just enough.
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Your father sits across from the merchant.
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The matchmaker stands silently behind, hands folded.
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Your father's posture is wrong.
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Too small.
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Too careful.
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The posture of a man who is aware of what he owes and to whom.
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You hear the merchant's voice first.
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I miss my son.
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than your fathers.
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She is a good girl.
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She will not complain.
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I know my daughter.
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A pouch of coins moves from the merchant's hand to your father's, heavier than the first Much heavier Your father's fingers close around it without hesitation.
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For some reason, the action makes you step back as a floorboard creaks beneath your foot.
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Immediately, you turn, walk quickly, and then run back to your room.
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For the next few days, your hands do not stop shaking.
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Your mother asks why.
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You tell her that it's excitement.
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She believes you.
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You don't.
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For some reason, you get a bad feeling about the wedding.
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So you start praying to your ancestors.
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You even pray to the ancestors in your room.
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you beg them to watch over your wedding.
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On the day of your wedding, you're dressed by two servants.
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Your mother is present.
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She keeps complimenting your red dress.
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But she looks sad.
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This time it's obvious.
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You tell her not to worry about you, that your husband will take care of you.
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You also promise to visit often and you make her promise to visit when you have a child.
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She bursts into tears and starts to mutter, I'm sorry.
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You wonder why?
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She seems to want to say something, but your father walks in at that moment.
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He pulls her away and says she's emotional about your wedding, that she'll be alright.
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You feel that something's off.
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But today's your big day, so you don't ponder for long.
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You're soon led to the ancestral hall.
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It is enormous.
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In it, there are hundreds of wooden tablets lining every wall from floor to ceiling.
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Generations of strangers watching you with judgmental eyes.
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Your family is there.
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Your in -laws too.
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The merchant, his wife, and your husband's younger brother.
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You met him the day before when he came to give his congratulations.
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You do not like him much.
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His stare makes you uncomfortable.
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You catch his eye, and he's still staring.
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So you avoid his eyes and scan the room for your husband.
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That's when you see it.
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The altar at the center of the hall.
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The altar holds two chairs, two cups of wine, two red candles tied together with string.
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And then you see it.
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In one chair sits a paper effigy.
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life -sized dressed in wedding robes, face painted white with red lips curved into a permanent smile, and pinned to its chest,
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the painting from your room.
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the young man with the serious eyes.
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It is at that moment everything finally makes sense.
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The money changing hands.
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Your mother's face.
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The altar in your room.
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and the words you hear that day.
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You understand what's happening.
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Your parents have made you a ghost bride.
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An ancient tradition where girls are married to the dead.
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You've heard about it before, a tradition performed to ensure that individuals who die unmarried are not lonely in the afterlife
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and don't become restless spirits you just never thought you'd become
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one the sound of the whole doors being shut jolt you back to your senses You look at your parents.
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You see your mother sobbing and your father nodding slowly.
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his eyes tell you Just comply.
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It's at that moment you notice your mother -in -law at your side.
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She holds your hand tightly as if to prevent you from running as she pulls and guides you to the altar.
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A priest is already there.
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From that moment on, your body moves on autopilot.
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Your mind is no longer here.
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Instead, it has traveled back home to when you played around with your siblings.
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At the same time, You do the marriage rites.
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Bowing three times.
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Drinking from the cup.
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You are also crying.
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You are not sure when that started.
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After the rites, the wedding priest places a cold iron ring on your finger.
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It tightens the moment it touches your skin.
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A small contraction, like a decision being made by someone other than you.
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Around you, your new and old family weep.
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You see joy, grief and relief, all wearing the same face.
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Then, the temperature drops.
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Not gradually, all at once.
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The candles bend sideways without wind and straighten again.
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You feel something invisible settle into the empty chair beside you.
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So you look at the effigy with its permanent smile and paper hands folded neatly in its paper lap.
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You look at the ring on your finger and realize that you are already married.
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You wake up the next morning in the red room.
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For one breath.
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You forget where you are.
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Then you see the altar.
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The painting.
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The incense already burning.
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It seems someone else lit it before sunrise.
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But not anymore.
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Because from now on, that someone will be you.
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This is what a ghost marriage is for.
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In your culture, death is not an ending.
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It is a relocation.
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The dead move to the underworld, a mirror of the living world, where they still need food, shelter, and family.
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An unmarried man who dies has no wife to tend to spirit, no descendants to burn offerings.
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No anchor.
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he becomes a hungry ghost.
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Restless, angry, dangerous to the family he left behind.
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And the only solution they can think of is a wife.
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Your father saw their solution as an opportunity to save a wealthy family from a restless spirit
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while securing his own family's future with the coins.
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And because of this decision, your mornings now belong to the dead.
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Three years pass as you turn 17.
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Your days have blurred into a routine where you rise before the household.
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Light the incense.
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Bow three times to the painting of a man that'll never know you.
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You have been bowing to him for years.
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and you still do not know what his voice sounded like.
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You do not know if he was kind.
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You do not know if he would have made a good husband.
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After bowing, you go to the kitchen and begin the day.
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You cook.
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You clean.
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Your mother -in -law watches everything with sharp eyes and sharper silences.
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She is not cruel.
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She has just lost her son and replaced him with a ritual in a Masid disguised as a wife.
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That's it.
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Your treatment is no different from a maid.
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You learn the correct temperature for the morning tea.
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You learn which tasks belong to which hour.
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You learn that correction will be delivered in front of servants.
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They do not love you.
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They don't care for you.
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They only care that you take care of their son's altar while alive, and his soul in death.
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After all, you're legally his widow.
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which means you are legally theirs.
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You cannot leave.
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You cannot remarry.
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Your body must remain chaste because you belong to a dead man's memory.
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Life goes on as you turn 18.
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You have been a widow for the last four years.
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Your husband's younger brother has been watching you the whole time.
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You still remember his eyes at the wedding.
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That kind that doesn't look away when caught.
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You thought it was rudeness.
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You already know it wasn't.
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He's in his 20s.
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He moves to the house with the ease of a man who has always owned it.
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Well, He'll own it soon.
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The merchant is old, and the grief of losing his eldest son is killing him slowly.
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You never asked how your husband died either.
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You do not care, because right now your focus is on avoiding his brother.
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Your brother -in -law finds reasons to be in rooms you were in.
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you avoid him.
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You become skilled at knowing which corridor he is in before you enter it.
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You even develop a sense for his footsteps.
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Then one day, the merchant and his wife visit a neighboring town.
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The house is quiet in the specific way of a house that has been emptied of its authority.
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You are in your room, mending cloth.
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When the door opens without a knock, he stands in the doorway.
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That look again.
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You ask what he needs.
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He does not answer.
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You move to leave, but he's larger than even the doorway.
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Then he grabs you.
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You try to struggle, but it's futile.
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What happens next is witnessed only by the painting of a dead man on an altar.
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Time passes, and he leaves you lying on the mat.
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You look at the ceiling and tell yourself it will not happen again.
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It does.
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You try to confide in your mother -in -law but she waves her complaints away.
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You realize that the family knows.
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You can see it in the way conversations stop when you enter a room.
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in the way the servants look at the floor when you pass.
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It seems like they have made a collective decision not to involve themselves.
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So every night he visits You cry.
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You have no husband to appeal to.
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No parents who will come.
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Your father with your mother's permission has exchanged you for coins.
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All you can gain comfort from is a cold iron ring
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and the photograph of a man who never knew you existed Years pass.
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Not quickly.
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Not slowly.
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Just fast and slow enough that you've almost forgotten you once had a life that didn't revolve around a dead man.
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You are 25 when your hair starts to show its first grey threats.
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Women in your village went grey at 40.
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You know why.
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You just can't change it.
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By the time you are 30, the cold iron ring already sits differently on your finger.
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Not tighter.
301
looser.
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Your hands have thinned over the years due to too much stress and work.
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The merchant and his wife pass away during this time.
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A day after the funeral, Your brother -in -law informs you that you'll now start burning incense for all three altars: your husband and his parents.
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You refuse.
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He just starves you till you cave.
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Now you spend your mornings tending the altar of a man you never met.
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You bow to his paintings every morning.
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You burn his incense.
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You maintain his honor.
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Then you repeat the same for his parents.
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He does not know.
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He is never known.
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And he'll never know.
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You are 32 when your body begins its quiet refusal of this life.
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A cough, that winter that does not leave.
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a tiredness that lives in the bone rather than the muscle.
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The kind of tired that sleep does not fix.
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You know what it means.
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Still, you continue inhaling incense smoke and bowing.
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You do this for as long as your body will allow.
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until the day it doesn't.
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One day, your brother -in -law receives news that you haven't lit the incense for his parents' altar yet.
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He rushes to your room to punish you.
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When he enters, He sees it.
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your gaunt figure sleeping peacefully.
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No breath.
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No pulse.
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Just a body in a red room with the red curtains and the red lanterns.
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The only witness to your death is the painting on the altar across from you.
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You're mourned appropriately.
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Ironically, your treatment and death far surpasses whatever care you were afforded alive.
333
your tablet is prepared by the family scribe.
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He writes your name beneath your husband's and then carries it to the altar as he places it beside his.
335
two tablets.
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side by side.
337
together forever in the genealogy of a family that was never yours.
338
You spent your entire life performing the role of his wife.
339
without once meeting him.
340
And now in death, you finally join him.
341
You have always belonged to him.
342
And now, you will always belong to him.
343
That's what the tablet is for.
344
Somewhere in a village not far from here, a family has a son who died too young.
345
The matchmaker is already on her way.
346
She's older now.
347
She still wears jade earrings and silk scarves.
348
She knows exactly which fathers to visit first.
349
She knows which ones have daughters they cannot afford to keep.
350
She knows how heavy to make the first pouch of coins.
351
She has done this before.
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She will do this again.
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Woordenschat en spreektips bij deze les
Deze spreekles op niveau B2 is gebaseerd op de video “Why It Sucks to Be a Ghost Bride”. Deze woorden komen het vaakst terug: altar, mother, father. Deze video bevat 352 zinnen en 3221 woorden om na te spreken. Het gesproken deel duurt 20:43. De spreker praat in een natuurlijk tempo van ongeveer 156 woorden per minuut, dicht bij een alledaags gesprek. 84% van de woorden hoort bij de 3.000 meest gebruikte Engelse woorden; de rest kun je beter vooraf bekijken.
Belangrijke woorden in deze video
De 15 moeilijkste woorden uit de video, met uitspraak en betekenis:
| Woord | Uitspraak | Betekenis |
|---|---|---|
| altar zelfstandig naamwoord | /ˈɔl.tɚ/ | altaar |
| merchant zelfstandig naamwoord | /ˈmɝt͡ʃənt/ | koopman, koopvrouw |
| incense zelfstandig naamwoord | /ˈɪnsɛns/ | wierook |
| ancestor zelfstandig naamwoord | /ˈæn.sɛs.tɚ/ | voorouder |
| coin zelfstandig naamwoord | /ˈkoɪ̯n/ | munt, muntstuk |
| curtain zelfstandig naamwoord | /ˈkɜɹt(ə)n/ | gordijn |
| tablet zelfstandig naamwoord | /ˈtæblət/ | kleitablet |
| fold werkwoord | /ˈfəʊld/ | vouwen |
| matchmaker zelfstandig naamwoord | /ˈmæt͡ʃˌmeɪkɚ/ | koppelaar, koppelaarster |
| restless bijvoeglijk naamwoord | /ˈɹɛstlɪs/ | rusteloos |
| sibling zelfstandig naamwoord | /ˈsɪb.lɪŋ/ | brus, sibling |
| servant zelfstandig naamwoord | /ˈsɝvənt/ | hulp, hulpje |
| ceiling zelfstandig naamwoord | /ˈsilɪŋ/ | plafond, zoldering |
| beside | /bɪˈsaɪd/ | naast |
| earring zelfstandig naamwoord | /ˈɪəɹɪŋ/ | oorbel, oorring |
Phrasal verbs die je zult horen
| Woord | Uitspraak | Betekenis |
|---|---|---|
| leave behind werkwoord | achterlaten | |
| pass away werkwoord | overlijden, ontslapen | |
| wake up werkwoord | /ˌweɪk ˈʌp/ | wakker worden, ontwaken |
| watch over werkwoord | bewaren, bewaken |
Zinnen om te herhalen
Korte, volledige zinnen uit de video die je in alledaagse gesprekken kunt gebruiken:
- By the end of the week, you've told everyone.
- You're soon taken to your room.
- Your father's posture is wrong.
- You hear the merchant's voice first.
- You tell her that it's excitement.
Grammatica in deze video
De structuren die de spreker het meest gebruikt, met de exacte woorden uit de video:
| Structuur | In de video |
|---|---|
| Present perfect continuous have/has been + -ing — iets dat eerder begon en nog bezig is | has been weeping · have been bowing · has been watching |
| Present perfect have/has + voltooid deelwoord — iets uit het verleden dat nu nog telt | you've told · has arrived · haven't seen |
| Lijdende vorm be + voltooid deelwoord — het gaat om wat er gebeurt, niet om wie het doet | are also curved · were given · being shut |
| Betrekkelijke bijzinnen who / which + zin — extra informatie over een persoon of ding | woman who sells · man who is · man who dies |
Uitspraak om op te letten
De spreker gebruikt 37 samentrekkingen en verkorte vormen, zoals don't, you're, he'll. Spreek ze kort uit, zoals je ze hoort.
- De “th”-klanken: cloth /klɒθ/, theirs /ðɛɚz/
- De klanken “sh” en “zh”: punish /ˈpʌnɪʃ/, correction /kəˈɹɛkʃən/, precision /pɹɪˈsɪʒ.ən/, emotion /ɪˈməʊ.ʃən/
- Lange woorden — let op de klemtoon: invisible /ɪnˈvɪzəb(ə)l/, uncomfortable /ʌnˈkʌm.fɚ.tə.bl̩/
Klanken die Nederlandstaligen lastig vinden:
- Stemhebbende eindmedeklinker — /b/, /d/, /g/, /z/, /v/ niet verscherpen: fold /ˈfəʊld/, beside /bɪˈsaɪd/, unmarried /ʌnˈmæɹ.id/, curve /kɚv/, maid /meɪd/
- /æ/ — opener dan de Nederlandse “e”: sedan /səˈdæn/, ancestor /ˈæn.sɛs.tɚ/, tablet /ˈtæblət/, matchmaker /ˈmæt͡ʃˌmeɪkɚ/, unmarried /ʌnˈmæɹ.id/
- /w/ — met ronde lippen: weep /ˈwiːp/, doorway /ˈdɔɹweɪ/, warn /woɹn/, widow /ˈwɪd.oʊ/
Zo oefen je met deze video
- Luister de hele video één keer zonder te spreken en noteer de woorden die je niet kent.
- Begin op 0,75× snelheid, spreek zin voor zin na en ga terug naar normale snelheid zodra het makkelijk gaat.
- Neem jezelf op en vergelijk met het origineel; let daarbij op woorden als altar, merchant, incense.
Wat is de Shadowing-techniek?
Shadowing is een wetenschappelijk onderbouwde taalleermethode die oorspronkelijk is ontwikkeld voor professionele tolkentraining en gepopulariseerd door polyglot Dr. Alexander Arguelles. De methode is eenvoudig maar krachtig: je luistert naar native Engelse audio en herhaalt het onmiddellijk hardop — als een schaduw die de spreker volgt met slechts 1–2 seconden vertraging. In tegenstelling tot passief luisteren of grammaticadrills, dwingt shadowing je hersenen en mondspieren om echte spraakpatronen tegelijkertijd te verwerken en te reproduceren. Onderzoek toont aan dat het de uitspraaknauwkeurigheid, intonatie, ritme, verbonden spraak, luisterbegrip en spreekvaardigheid aanzienlijk verbetert — waardoor het een van de meest effectieve methoden is voor IELTS Speaking-voorbereiding en echte Engelse communicatie.