It's English to Me!

Anyone who has lived in a place where your native tongue is not spoken can probably relate with the following situation:

• You arrive at a friends house, exchange pleasantries in your non-native tongue, are introduced to anyone whom you have not met before, then for the remainder of the evening you desperately try to keep up in the conversation. Who are they talking about? Is this someone or something I should know about or does it warrant a clarification? Can I give an opinion or will that offend? Are we still on the same subject as two minutes before or has it shifted?

When I lived in Spain, I often played my "gringo" card asking questions, requesting a repeat, or slipping in a "mas despacio por favor." But what the heck do you do when you can't understand your own language? There is no "gringo" card for that! This has been my reality for the past five and a half months, and recently it was magnified by 20.

One of Brian's coworkers invited us, his boss, and two of his childhood friends to a cookout at his house. Numerous times throughout the evening, a statement would be made to me and I would smile and nod, not having a clue what was just said. As the conversation progressed into more involved topics, I tried desperately to hang on every word hoping to catch a sense of what we were talking about. Just when I thought I had it, the discussion required me to have everyday, culture-specific knowledge...tribal stereotypes, past and present political topics, regional realities. I finally gave up and waited for someone with a more "oyibo-esque" accent to make a statement that would hint at the gist of our conversation.

It is quite embarrassing to admit that you have not understood a conversation in your own language. And you can't blame it on "their" accent either; mine is just as difficult to decipher. I cannot count the number of times I have made a comment only to be greeted by a confused smile or an answer to a question I did not ask. But what I find interesting about the whole situation is that we (oyibos AND nationals) seem to use the same strategies for "covering up" our non-understanding.

Godday's favorite (our driver) is a muffled chuckle with an superfluous "I know"; Doris (my friend from the guest house) smiles, laughs, and says "Wow" to stories I'm sure she doesn't always understand; and then there is the Fulani women from my neighborhood (I believe she speaks limited English to begin with) who responds "fine, fine" to every comment I make. Then there is my "tell" of sorts; a smile, a nod, and a "yeah" response to questions I should probably say "no" to.

In the end, embarrassment turns to amusement as we all realize we're in the same situation. We know we should understand one another but are trapped in an accentual blur. And though a hindrance at times, it usually turns into either a practice of patience or a mutual enjoyment of an unintelligible conversation...after all, it's English to me!