Translator Please?
Often when someone asks me where Blair and I live at the moment, they respond with something like, "Oh my goodness! Do you speak Spanish?" After which I have to kindly respond by saying that English is actually the native language of Grenada. The person inevitably feels like a brainless nomad and I try to make them feel better about the situation by abruptly changing the subject. I hate when I ask stupid questions (and this happens far more frequently than I'd like to admit). I may or may not have asked someone recently if there were any fresh water oceans in the world. Let's not talk about that though. Moving on...
Languages you say?
Let's talk about languages.
You see, while English is the native tongue of my fellow Grenadians, it is a foreign form of English to me. I'm not sure how to describe it. All I know is when two locals working at the cash register in the grocery store converse in front of me, I have absolutely no idea what they're saying.
No idea.
But Grenadians usually slow down when they're talking to us foreign white folk. Sometimes I pretend that I'm hard of hearing so they'll talk really loud and slow for me. The most difficult part, however, is understanding the teenagers. Case in point:
Last week I was teaching a lesson about service. We read the scripture from the Book of Mormon that says "When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God." As we discussed this scripture, I asked the students to share examples of how they either served someone else or had been served by someone and how it made them feel. I'll first tell you what they SAID. I'll then tell you what I HEARD.
"Yeah. Like the other day when that little boy's slipper fell on the roof and Akim didn't help him. Akim should have helped him."
And this is what I heard:
"Yeah. Like that little boy who sleeps on Akim's roof. Nobody helps him. Somebody should help him!"
Well after hearing that my eyes opened wide, my mouth dropped, and I started yelping. "Who's sleeping on Akim's roof? Who is this little boy?!!! Akim, is there a little boy sleeping on your roof? Have you told your mom?!!" Silence fell over the room as the students stared at their nutso teacher...cricket...cricket...
Queue rolling laughter from students.
Queue Jamal crying from laughing so hard.
That pretty much put the kibosh on the rest of the lesson that day. After they translated what had really been said, I couldn't stop laughing. Every time I'd start to say something about the lesson, I'd just bust out laughing about the little boy sleeping on Akim's roof. Another lesson bites the dust.
Darn.
Languages you say?
Let's talk about languages.
You see, while English is the native tongue of my fellow Grenadians, it is a foreign form of English to me. I'm not sure how to describe it. All I know is when two locals working at the cash register in the grocery store converse in front of me, I have absolutely no idea what they're saying.
No idea.
But Grenadians usually slow down when they're talking to us foreign white folk. Sometimes I pretend that I'm hard of hearing so they'll talk really loud and slow for me. The most difficult part, however, is understanding the teenagers. Case in point:
Last week I was teaching a lesson about service. We read the scripture from the Book of Mormon that says "When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God." As we discussed this scripture, I asked the students to share examples of how they either served someone else or had been served by someone and how it made them feel. I'll first tell you what they SAID. I'll then tell you what I HEARD.
"Yeah. Like the other day when that little boy's slipper fell on the roof and Akim didn't help him. Akim should have helped him."
And this is what I heard:
"Yeah. Like that little boy who sleeps on Akim's roof. Nobody helps him. Somebody should help him!"
Well after hearing that my eyes opened wide, my mouth dropped, and I started yelping. "Who's sleeping on Akim's roof? Who is this little boy?!!! Akim, is there a little boy sleeping on your roof? Have you told your mom?!!" Silence fell over the room as the students stared at their nutso teacher...cricket...cricket...
Queue rolling laughter from students.
Queue Jamal crying from laughing so hard.
That pretty much put the kibosh on the rest of the lesson that day. After they translated what had really been said, I couldn't stop laughing. Every time I'd start to say something about the lesson, I'd just bust out laughing about the little boy sleeping on Akim's roof. Another lesson bites the dust.
Darn.
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-Jacqueline