Francisco mispronounced a word.
Not some garbled, nonsense mispronunciation. Mostly, he emphasized the wrong syllable. It was still the correct word, used in the right context, understandable to all of the English speakers in Francisco’s tour group.
Francisco was our guide to the Chacchoben Mayan ruins located in the interior of Costa Maya. On the bus ride, Francisco told the mostly American tourists that he spoke three languages: English, Spanish and a Mayan dialect. Speaking English, he told wonderful stories, shared historical insights and displayed a great sense of comic timing.
While explaining aspects of the jungle surrounding the ruins, Francisco mispronounced a word in English. No big deal. I don’t even recall the exact word because I knew what he meant and appreciated the information.
Another American tourist thought the mispronunciation was funny. He repeated the mispronunciation in a stage whisper to his wife, in a bad mimicry of Francisco’s voice. He scoffed at the mispronunciation. He seemed to think Francisco was not too smart.
More than likely the American tourist spoke only English. I don’t know that is true in the case of this particular tourist but statistically, it is more than likely. Most Americans speak only one language.
Francisco could easily understand the tourist was being rude but chose to ignore it. Francisco could have called the American tourist a buffoon in Spanish or Mayan, and the American tourist probably wouldn’t have known it. Most of the tourists wouldn’t have known the difference.
Who’s the dummy now?
I’m no different. I took French classes in high school but all I really remember is that “je m’appelle” means “my name is.” I only recall it because I turned it into a joke as a kid about speaking hillbilly French: “My je m’appelle is Claude. What’s your je m’appelle?” Granted, several decades later, I still say this on occasion.
There’s a certain arrogance in that joke just as there is an arrogance in expecting everyone to understand you no matter where you go. Americans can go almost anywhere in the world and make themselves understood because English is spoken as a second language in most countries.
As Americans, it is understood that we will be understood … if not by one person somewhere else then more than likely by the next person.
Why learn another language if everyone, everywhere, understands us? Why emphasize teaching languages to our children, if we are not worried about them being understood?
Because there is a deficit in that type of thinking.
Consider the world of commerce. Take India, as an example.
Most Indians speak English. They learned it through the era of British rule but they also speak their own regional/national dialects.
In terms of commerce, they can communicate in a Western, English-speaking market but they can also communicate in the native language of their own developing and rising markets.
Same goes for the bilingual and multilingual cultures of China, Japan, the Middle East, the Eastern European nations, etc.
Or consider a more visible example.
American leaders often need translators to address the public populations of other nations because most of our leaders only speak English, and if our leaders don’t need a translator, it is because the majority of that foreign population speaks English in addition to their native tongue.
Most visiting leaders from other nations do not need a translator because they speak English, in addition to their native language. These visiting leaders can address our nation as clearly in our words as they can speak to their home populations in their language.
And if a person or a people can speak in multiple languages, they can think in multiple languages. They can think quickly and adapt more readily to developing situations because their minds are more agile.
In the ruins, our group climbed a series of stone tiers — like steps — to see more temples. The tiers were not measured in the same dimensions as modern staircases. Each step required either raising a leg by a couple of feet to attain the next level or actually using hands and feet to rise up the tiers. Coming back down them required even more careful steps. Some tourists chose not to climb them and waited for everyone to return.
The American tourist who scoffed at Francisco’s mispronunciation came down the steps at almost a backward crawl, as did most of our tourist group. Francisco, who was probably deep in his 40s, leapt down the tiers, one foot in front of the other, with a spring in his step.
This is a different kind of agility than being fluent in languages but it serves as a visual example that if we want our children to deftly leap into the future rather than scuttle and crawl, we need to develop relevant language courses in our public schools and encourage learning other languages at home.
We should work toward better understanding rather than assuming we will be understood.
Or like some of the American tourists facing the challenge of those tier steps, we will be left behind.
Dean Poling is a former editor with The Valdosta Daily Times and The Tifton Gazette.