My Fragmented Life

I have been doing my best to try to converse with people here (other than at church or with compound residents) but am finding it is just difficult. Between spending my day with a two-year-old and trying daily to communicate with people who speak limited to very limited English I have been forced to speak mainly in fragments. Not only that but I think I am creating a subcultural linguistic trait. Canadians are known for ending their sentences with “eh.” (I miss you, Cindy!!) Well, I have noticed I have begun to end my sentences with either “Okay?” or “Yes?” “You fix phone, okay?” “I buy fruit here, yes?” “I come back one hour, okay?” However, my affirmatives got me a fix the other day. Someone came to work on the air conditioner at 7:45 (they’re very prompt here). I didn’t know Dano had arranged it so I looked, not only my “morning best” but a little taken off-guard as well. The worker said, “Fix air conditioner.” I think I just replied with a “Uhhh. Okaaayyy. What air conditioner?” (each room has it’s own with it’s own controls…very nice). He asked, “Now? Come back afternoon?” I just told him, “No, now fine.” He then proceeded to get on his bicycle (they all ride their bicycles around the compound to jobs). Confused I again said, “No, no, now okay.” He kindly said, “Okay, afternoon” and rode off, leaving me standing on the porch wondering “What just happened here?” My pajamas are cute and I had at least brushed my hair. Dano later told me I used a negative first in the sentence before confirmation so he only got the “no now” part. Ohhhh. Didn’t think of that.

To help bridge some of the tiny gaps I have decided to try to learn a few key phrases in several of the languages here. I started yesterday with the carpenter who came to hang some towel racks. When he was leaving I told him thank you and asked him how he says thank you. (“How do you say thank you?”) He just stared at me. I wondered then if he thought I was asking him to say thank you. “Quick, Melissa, fix it! Fix it!”… “What language you speak?” Nope. That didn’t do it. Ummm. I didn’t dare ask him about his tongue. That could really be weird! Ummm. “Where you from?” He responded, “Aslam.” I only knew this was his name because I had seen it printed in marker on his bicycle. “Your name Aslam?” to which he nodded. I then tried, “What your country?”
“Pakistan.”
“Oh, Pakistan.” Then, for the life of me, I could not remember what language Dano told me Pakistanis speak! I just stood there feeling foolish knowing it would come to me and he would be so impressed. No. Nothing. He was heading to the door. I gave up thinking and just told him, “Shukran.” He left probably both confused and unimpressed.

As I related this to a few of Dano’s friends from work who are Pakistani (who, by the way, speak Urdu) they just chuckled. They taught me that Urdu is a blend of the Arabic, Turkish, and Persian languages and that if you understand Arabic, you understand Urdu and if you can read Arabic, you can read Urdu…and vice-versa. For example ‘thank you’ is ‘shukria.’ Very close to Arabic. So now I just need to find out how to say ‘Hello’ and ‘Good-bye’ in Urdu and (in case of emergency) ‘I really hope I didn’t offend you.’

Nearly everyone understands ‘Hello’ and ‘Good Morning’ in English which is good for Abby since she says it to everyone she sees. The other morning we had to take care of some business at the reception. As we entered she told the window washer good morning. He said, “Morning, baby” back to her. We took care of our business and headed out, told the window washer, “Bye-bye” and proceeded to the door. I pushed and pushed and it didn’t budge. I thought he surely wouldn’t lock the door when he wasn’t even cleaning it yet. I slid to the other end of the door and pushed some more. I just knew he was watching me and I was sure at any moment he would come over and unlock the door. He didn’t. I mumbled something to Abby…doesn’t it always seem to make you feel a little less foolish when you have a child with you? After I pushed some more I stepped back thinking we’d quietly just go out the back door. As I did so, I saw the larger-than-life letters P-U-L-L! Oh, great! Who’s the one with English barriers now? Then I chuckled and muttered something under my breath to Abby about her mom being a ding-dong, put my head down and hustled out.

We ran out the next day to get a birthday cake for Dano; it’s hard to surprise someone when they have to drive you to get it, but oh well, he was happy to do it and we were rushing to get to Baskin Robbins before prayer time. Knowing we were within a few minutes I hopped out while Dano went to park and get Abby out. I ran up to the door and pulled the door. It was locked. I knew we were cutting it close, but they had locked it five minutes early. I was a little bugged and pulled again. I could see a man getting ice cream and two workers. I pulled at the other door but to no avail. At that point I noticed the men looking at me. I don’t know if I was annoyed or embarrassed. I thought it was either look up and give them a pathetic look and maybe they’d open the door… or give up and run with whatever dignity I had left…there are plenty of other Baskin Robbins in the city. No. I reeeealllly wanted Dano to have his birthday cake! I looked up with a slightly pleading look. I caught the eyes of the other customer who made a pushing gesture with his hands. Oh, dangit! Surely this couldn’t happen to me two days in a row. Yep. The door wasn’t locked. It pushed in. I’m sure they were all laughing, at least on the inside, at the crazy American lady who can’t even open a door. That’s okay because I know what I looked like and it was indeed laughable, but I didn’t care because I was about to get an ice cream cake with chocolate icing. That fixes everything! (Later in the car Dano was still reeling from my display. Come to think of it, I bet he was watching the whole thing from a few yards away, snickering! Nevertheless, he explained that most places here you’ll find the doors push in to enter and pull to leave; opposite of what we do in the states. I’m not sure if it’s a safety code in the U.S., but it makes more sense if you need to get out quicker, you push the door!) Thank goodness Abby was there. The ice cream men were quite taken with her. She got a free scoop of cotton candy ice cream. The young men were from Sri Lanka and Nepal. Had I been thinking, I would have asked them what their native languages are and how to say ‘thank you.’ Next time. When we go back. And I’ll remember: Push.