Dubious Origins

As we were going over vocabulary words last week, I was calling on students at random to give the answer for the exercise. Note here that I often employ phrases in Spanish while speaking normally. This day was no different, "James, would you read, por favor?"

The class snickered, and it didn't take me long to realize my mistake: James is the only Spanish speaker in this whole class. He speaks English perfectly well, without an accent, even. And I do not often think about the fact that he used to be an ESL student. I hadn't thought about it at all, actually. But I realized it now.

I thought quickly.

The best way to proceed? Act like nothing happened. Do damage control later? Maybe. After class, I decided that I might as well just let it drop. When I have been on the other side, I didn't always like people to acknowledge that I was not a native speaker.

But the next day when he came in for a library pass, I thought, "shoot. I'll just get that awkward moment out of the way and explain coolly how I hadn't meant any disrespect."

"James," I said, "I wanted to apologize for what may have looked like insensitivity yesterday. I wasn't thinking about your Spanish-speaking background when I switched into Spanish for that second. I wasn't thinking about anything at all, really."

His face was inscrutable, "uh... it's okay. I don't speak Spanish." I was a tad stunned.

"Really? Well, you should, it's a great language. Mmmkay, well. Good... But weren't you an ESL student until this year?"

"Yeah. I'm from Egypt."

As they say in the song, gentle audience, "Everyone's a little bit racist sometimes."

Lupita Mañana, by Patricia Beatty

I'm reading an especially difficult book right now for a class on teaching literature to young adults, Lupita Mañana by Patricia Beatty. It is written in English, and Beatty is not of Hispanic descent, although she lived most of her life in California. The book is written for young adults. But it leaves an ache in me.

A brother and sister are forced to travel northward from the Baja peninsula into the United States. They are taken advantage of at nearly every turn, and the only thing that saves them from falling completely into the hands of robbers, liars, and killers is an amount of common sense. These children are not extraordinary in any way. They have no special intuitive powers, no special intelligence, no special savings account waiting for them. They are folks. Just folks. And I sympathize with them something awful! I am stunned by the reality of their situation. I am sure I've read half of this book with my mouth agape.

First, Second, and Third Languages

I just finished an English "lesson" with Yazmin. We had a wonderful conversation, explaining "was," "would," contractions, the third person singular, and the varied cultural treatment of language learners. We agreed that many people in the U.S. seem to believe English to be the language that God speaks. For that reason they may become impatient with those learning English--and this often without thinking about why they are impatient. Their mindset is different. They will give up on the conversation more easily, deciding that it is not worth the embarrassment for both parties to keep trying.

We agreed that the same puzzlement exists, for example, in Mexico, where people may also expect their conversational partners to speak perfectly. But instead of impatience with the learner, the native speaker in Mexico will usually exhibit curiosity at the learner, thereby aiding the conversational transaction.

I see more and more that a dignified and determined attitude toward language learners is most likely to instill confidence in speaking. I think the main impediment to language learning is fear of making mistakes and sounding stupid. Learning is first admitting that we don't know something; and secondly forming that knowledge, usually by experience. The implications for this are as follows: we shall make mistakes. Praise the Lord. What better way to remain humble than to be continually frustrated in our attempts to communicate even a basic idea?

I have a wonderful example of humility. On our way to Tapatios on Sunday, Kevin was explaining to Yazmin, Kiko, and Moises his understanding of American Sign Language. He has had two years of college Spanish, but he still lacks some confidence, and it had been some time, he said, since he had practiced. He was explaining his second language in his third language! A few times he looked to me for help, using a sign and a questioning face, as if to say, "how do I say {insert sign} in Spanish?"

How do I tell you? You had to be there to laugh with us--to know with us that we don't know. I remember those moments with a new affection, a renewed vigor to go and do what seems at first to be uncomfortable, and therefore unnecessary. Perhaps that is what makes the reward so great.

"Tamales"

Abbreviated adaptations from my journal.

Day three: I still don't feel sick.

Today Doña Delfina, Graciela and two of her kids and I went to the plaza to buy tamale ingredients. We ended up with bags so full that I had to rest them on my legs and sort of waddle between the stalls of the market. While there, I continuously heard the name "güera." I thought they were telling me "fuera," get out. But Graciela explained that it was a term of affection, meaning something like "blondie." No surprise, really. Everyone and everything in Mexico has a nickname. I never once heard gringa.

I made my way to the combi (the taxi-van) to wait for Doña Delfina while she got the masa for the tamales. She came back 15 minutes later with a bucket filled with a sandy white substance made from corn, the foundation of the tamales.

She showed me how to soak the dried corn husks and sift the masa before adding the anise, the lard, the oil, and other ingredients that make the bulk of the tamal. Simultaneously, she was making salsa verde and cooking chicken to be used to fill the tamales. Then she showed me how to wrap them all together in the corn husks! We ended up with a small army of tamales, waiting to be boiled for an hour. In the meantime, family members were arriving. Tamales are an occasion. Although, for the Soto family, they hardly need an excuse to come together. The eight children return frequently to the ranch, just to sit on the kitchen benches and platicar, pass chisme.

Felipe, one of the Soto brothers, was excited to practice his English with me. But Rogelio took special offense at his forwardness, reminding everyone that I knew Spanish. He also felt it was rude for his family to address me as güera instead of Carolina. I told them I didn't mind güera. But I didn't tell them that I will always prefer Carolina.

The tamales were a success. We had enough for dinner that night, breakfast the next morning, and lunch in the afternoon.

"No Idea"

Abbreviated adaptations from my journal. As promised:

bañarse: bathe
nadar: swim

Spanish 101; there's a difference between these two terms, except in the following situation: Los Bañarios de Pachuca. They're thermal springs. Okay. But I didn't know that. So I packed for swimming, and for a bath, because it sounded public. It certainly was. Los Bañarios are a public swimming facility, and we stayed outside all day. One thing I forgot to bring to Mexico: sunscreen. I burnt myself rather nicely. But even so, I am sure that God protected my body from worse. Plus, as I passed by a family applying sunscreen, I asked to use some. They were confused. Everyone is confused when I speak. I am confused when they speak. It is a different vocabulary here than any I have studied. But I don't claim to have studied hard.

Some Friends

My friend, Rogelio was taken into custody last week and is being held indefinitely for a court hearing. Yazmin and I tried unsuccessfully last week to visit him in prison. Today I saw him through that ridiculous glass as we spoke on the phones. The woman next to me was shouting so loudly at her boyfriend for stealing from her and doing crack, that I could hardly understand his dispossessed sorrowful words, "Es muy feo aqui. Muy feo. Se pelean por todo, por javon, por espacio, por nada. Pero yo he conocido a un dominicano que tiene una biblia. Leyemos juntos y oramos. Y regresamos a las camas. No tenemos mucho de comer." I taught him an English phrase, "this sucks." But he's had more time with the Lord this week than I have in perhaps the entire year...

I'm blessed by my neighbors. I had the most incredible conversation with Yazmin at Waffle House. For some reason, I couldn't communicate much of anything in Spanish today. But she didn't mind. We talked about her history. She told me how she left home at the age of 15 and married her husband-- no one from home knew for several months. He is eight years older than she, and they had some really rocky times in their relationship. She has always been honest with him, though. And she said often between 17 and 20 years old that she wanted to leave, that she didn't love him. But she had nowhere to go, and he did not force her to stay. But he lovingly talked her down when he could. When he couldn't talk her down, he waited.

It's been two years since she's spoken that way to him, especially not in front of her children. She became a Christian two weeks ago, and things have changed in her heart. She's been increasingly aware of how her negative talk about her situation has affected their children. I asked her if she loved Rudolfo. She said she thinks so. But she's not sure, even though she feels grateful to the Lord that he's a good man, and that they are good friends. She is confident that she will love him increasingly as she prays to love him.

My heart exalts in victory. A victory for my God. Praise the Lord.

Hace dos años

Y todavía te recuerdo bien, niño. Viniste a mi lado, habías estado borracho o algo. Me preguntaste, "?me quieres?"
Te dije, "no. No te quiero." Pero esto fue antes de saber que significaba 'te quiero' y como se relataba al frase 'te amo.' Niño, te amo como Cristo me ama. Lo siento que no podía decirte en tu propio idioma. No se donde estas. Pero si estés en la calle todavía, que el Señor te contara de su amor. Es suficiente aun para ti. Y testifica mucho mejor que yo.