After a night at the
mission home in a bunk house with five other sisters we loaded our things in
the back of a truck (flete) and headed for the bus station. It was a busy place
and it was crowded. The buses were old school buses that had been painted up and
had a destination painted on the front. One of the Elders threw my suitcase on
his back and climbed up the ladder to put it on top of the bus after the man
who usually does it refused to help unless we paid him (they see Americans and
think dollar signs). The bus ride was about an hour through winding mountain
roads through San Felipe where our district leaders hopped on the bus and took
us to San Martin. They were coming to take us to what was to be our home for
the next four and a half months.
I remember those first few weeks as bits and pieces of conversations. I would catch words here and there and have simple conversations with people but my vocabulary was quite limited and when we would teach a lesson my companion would reteach anything I taught. I thought I was doing okay until one night we were visiting with a family and I had learned that if I asked questions I would at least be able to guess at the answer and thus follow the conversation. I was sitting visiting with a three or four year old child struggling to understand what he was saying when he stopped, looked me straight in the face and said, "no me intiendes," you don't understand me. Then he turned and walked away. I understood those three words perfectly and knew my grasp of the language was doing even worse than I'd thought if a child could tell I was clueless.
This was one of the most humbling experiences of my life. I had always prided myself on what a good student I was. Being intelligent was such a big part of my identity and he I was thousands of miles from anyone and anything familiar looking clueless. We were highly encouraged to speak only Spanish outside of our apartment so for a time I felt like I lived in a haze of swirling words I didn't understand. On top of this I spent all day, every day with a companion that was six feet tall and walked like she had somewhere really important to be ALL THE TIME. After two weeks of this I was mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted.
I remember one day in particular hearing a word several times and trying to figure out what it meant. I kept saying go myself, I need to ask when we get home what this word means but by the time the day was done the word was long forgotten. I finally got brave one day and asked my companion what this derepente word meant and she spent the next ten minutes trying desperately to explain it to me without saying the English translation. She said something like it means that something isn't and then it is. I laugh about how ridiculous this was now but at the time I'm sure it frustrated us both. The word means suddenly. I share this experience because it was a difficult process to submerge yourself in a language even after nine weeks of intense language training.
The newness passed and every day I prayed I'd be given the gift of tongues and it would all make sense and it did get easier a little at a time and I had even learned enough that when my time in San Martin ended I had developed close friendships with a handful of people who are still a part of me today. Yet another difficult process in my life that was well worth the effort.
I remember those first few weeks as bits and pieces of conversations. I would catch words here and there and have simple conversations with people but my vocabulary was quite limited and when we would teach a lesson my companion would reteach anything I taught. I thought I was doing okay until one night we were visiting with a family and I had learned that if I asked questions I would at least be able to guess at the answer and thus follow the conversation. I was sitting visiting with a three or four year old child struggling to understand what he was saying when he stopped, looked me straight in the face and said, "no me intiendes," you don't understand me. Then he turned and walked away. I understood those three words perfectly and knew my grasp of the language was doing even worse than I'd thought if a child could tell I was clueless.
This was one of the most humbling experiences of my life. I had always prided myself on what a good student I was. Being intelligent was such a big part of my identity and he I was thousands of miles from anyone and anything familiar looking clueless. We were highly encouraged to speak only Spanish outside of our apartment so for a time I felt like I lived in a haze of swirling words I didn't understand. On top of this I spent all day, every day with a companion that was six feet tall and walked like she had somewhere really important to be ALL THE TIME. After two weeks of this I was mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted.
I remember one day in particular hearing a word several times and trying to figure out what it meant. I kept saying go myself, I need to ask when we get home what this word means but by the time the day was done the word was long forgotten. I finally got brave one day and asked my companion what this derepente word meant and she spent the next ten minutes trying desperately to explain it to me without saying the English translation. She said something like it means that something isn't and then it is. I laugh about how ridiculous this was now but at the time I'm sure it frustrated us both. The word means suddenly. I share this experience because it was a difficult process to submerge yourself in a language even after nine weeks of intense language training.
The newness passed and every day I prayed I'd be given the gift of tongues and it would all make sense and it did get easier a little at a time and I had even learned enough that when my time in San Martin ended I had developed close friendships with a handful of people who are still a part of me today. Yet another difficult process in my life that was well worth the effort.
No comments:
Post a Comment