Carlos and Juanita are my best Mexican friends in the village. We are like family in a lot of ways but because Carlos is my gardener and Juanita
cleans our house, there’s that employer/employee distance between us.
They are very bright people. I don’t know if either one had the chance to go to secondary school or high school but they are blessed with sterling
character and native common sense. They are both used to solving problems and are able to grasp certain concepts that may be new to them. Sometimes
I’m the one who fails to see the obvious, the basic concept of the gap our worldviews has set down for us.
I receive fantastic articles and photos on the internet almost daily and when something stunningly unique or interesting comes in, if they are here at
the house, within earshot, I call them to see fantastic things appear on the screen, then in my pueblo Spanish, try to explain what they are seeing,
where the thing is, perhaps a little about it’s rarity, how the picture came to be. We often stumble back and forth while I quickly flip through the
dictionary for a similar Spanish word to make the step by step connections so they can truly appreciate what they’re viewing.
They don’t seem to have much trouble sorting out the global landscape if and when I show them a picture of a grand European castle or an orangutan in
Malaysia but I’m the one who sometimes fails to see the depth of the chasm between us when I call them to the screen before I’ve thought the thing
through.
Enter National Geographic magazine and a foldout of a very tall sequoia tree. The Society took the shot after putting three people in it for
perspective – one on the ground, one in the middle and one right near the top. The three men wore bright colored jackets for effect. The shot had
either been stitched in series from a scaffold or altered to remove parallax and Keystoning or both.
I was so awestruck by the picture and the process that I couldn’t help myself from trying to explain all I knew about it. I told them this tree, The
President, was neither the largest sequoia nor the oldest; I converted its size to meters and tried to give them some idea about the forest. They
tried mightily to show their pleasure and excitement but I could see in their eyes, in their manner that all the dots weren’t connecting and it was
totally my fault.
This was not my first major communication blunder in Mexico. Since the thing was a tree I thought I could make an easy start. Later I tried to recall
how I felt when I first walked through the Avenue of the Giants in California’s redwood forest and was humbled so by the proud and mighty sequoias.
The mutual affection we share makes us want to find some good in every exchange so while we struggle to communicate we know we’ll not always hit the
mark. I should have guessed that it wouldn’t just be the language that would keep me from getting across to them ideas about perspective, scaffolds,
camera-lens angles. Sometimes, like me, they don’t sense the gap between us and simply speak out about something of interest just out of pure
courtesy.
For several nights I was serenaded by a family of huge Great Horned owls perched so close to our house I could see them clearly on the tops of power
poles. When I told Juanita about them she asked if I tried to kill them. I asked “Why would I do that?”
She said “Tecolotes son brujas Jorge. Muy mala.”
I try to respect and follow the path of local customs when I can but this time I let the witches slip away into the darkness to spread their evil. I’m
sure my friends will allow the oversight because they realize I don’t know the difference, don’t fully understand the concept.MMc - 3-29-2013 at 07:14 AM
The wisdom of your writing is always a pleasure. Thank you.bufeo - 3-29-2013 at 07:38 AM
Interesting, Osprey. From the perspective of a former language teacher (French) and translator (USASA in Czech and French) I can empathize with your
experience.
Allen RUdo - 3-29-2013 at 09:33 AM
I know what you went through with Carlos and Juanita, George. We have a Mexican gardener here at the RV park that we live in.
Although we speak the same Spanish, sometimes my English gets in the way of the translation and things don't come out right...but the message comes
across.
I know that I'll get much closer to their customs and m translations will be better once I spend a few years down south.
Even with all my years of living in Venezuela, the Spanish is still not the same.
Thanks for sharing your insight, buddy!Leo - 3-29-2013 at 12:21 PM
We used to have quite a strugle with our gardener. he had a dislike for gringos and was not very bright either. In the end of our relationship we
found out he was illiterate while he was actually quite young.(so we never expected that)
Now we have a mexican gardener who speaks perfect English. It is amazing to see so many Mexicans here around TS that have returned (or deported) from
the States and have the language advantage over their peers.
Now we found a Mexican house-sitter that has lived a summer in Vancouver Canada and a year in London England.
No communication breakdowns any more here.sancho - 3-29-2013 at 12:33 PM
Quote:
Originally posted by Osprey
the basic concept of the gap our worldviews has set down for us.
The mutual affection we share
A couple good lines. I remember reading about a guy
hiking in Peru, came upon a woman on a trail, some
conversation was exchanged, the Gringo told her he
lived in San Francisco US, at which time the Peruvian
woman asked whether that was farther away than
LimaOsprey - 3-29-2013 at 03:09 PM
Sancho, Mexican working stiffs in little villages like this in Baja Sur have little opportunity for travel. I'll bet a mere handful of my neighbors
(2000 in the village) have been beyond La Paz, a 2 hour drive.
It has been my joy to show some of my Mexican friends what lies just a short distance from here -- trips to the Pacific side, north to Mulege, to them
is like a gringo in Fargo spending some time in Singapore.
