I am reading a beautifully written essay on the difficulties of relating childhood memories in English when you grew up speaking another language. Some things just don’t translate. In fact, one could argue that events experienced in one language can no more be translated into another than apple can be translated into banana. Barney the Dinosaur notwithstanding, if you grew up speaking, breathing, existing in purple, how is one to render the experience into green? The phrase “lost in translation” doesn’t tell the half of it.
In the very first paragraph of the essay, I ran across the Spanish word maldito. Instinctively, I know that this is translated into English as “damned.” I do not know how I know this. Somewhere between growing up in New York and twenty years in California, I inhaled it through my pores.
I do not speak Spanish. This fact hit me hard recently when, sitting at a table full of strangers, I heard a nearby woman speak a few words en español and I responded in kind. “Do you speak Spanish, or just understand it?” she asked me in English. Busted! I am an impostor, and this was her way of telling me that she knew it.
Having some knowledge of Latin roots has helped me “figure out” the meanings of many English words without having to look them up, just as Mrs. Morse promised back in tenth grade. But recognizing bits of Latin has helped me to understand words in the Romance languages as well, first in my high school and college study of French and later, in my study of Spanish on the streets, in the supermarkets and in the break rooms of my workplaces in central California.
I remember that maldito hails from the same Latin roots as the English word “malediction,” which refers to a curse. I’ve never heard anyone actually use this word in conversation, but I have a vague recollection of once having come across it in the works of an obscure writer named William Shakespeare. Reaching back in my memory banks to high school days, the year after I sat in Mrs. Morse’s classroom, I sang Mozart’s Requiem with the John Jay Senior High School chorus and, what do you know, the Latin word maledictis cropped up. It seems that, in every century, a lot of people were into curses.
Actually, the word maldito sounds to me as if it should mean “misspoken,” as in saying one thing when really meaning another. Returning to memoir mode, as a kid I believed that this applied to most things said by adults. To my mind, this made them “damned” liars.
Breaking maldito into its two component parts leaves us with mal (bad, evil, wrong, sick, etc.) and dito (from the Latin dictum, or “speech, spoken, told,” I assume). As in high school, I largely rely on my memory because I am too lazy to look it up. So if a malediction is a curse, and mal + dito = bad speech, it makes sense that “damned” is still considered a “curse word” (or “bad speak”) in some circles. (Or so I think. I am old enough to have been around when a kid could get in serious trouble for saying “damn.” Something tells me that “damn,” along with “hell,” may have been laughed out of the curse word pantheon years ago.)
The Spanish language has long been a bit of an enigma for me. One day a basic knowledge of español is my best friend, while the next I find myself flummoxed and fumbling for the correct Spanish word, much to the amusement of the person with whom I am hoping to communicate.
Back when we lived in Modesto, I loved to pull up to the self-service pumps of a convenience store, walk inside, throw a twenty on the counter and yell ¡Veinte, número uno! over my shoulder as I turned around and walked out, knowing that the correct gas pump would be turned on. It made me feel like some kind of big shot.
Impostor, that’s me. But I love the ability to live as a stranger in my own land.
If two women are holding a spirited Spanish conversation in the supermarket aisle, most of what they are saying will likely go right over my head. As I maneuver my shopping cart around them, however, I will catch that one of them is cussing out her cheatin’ good-for-nothing ex-boyfriend. As I’ve mentioned before in this space, some things you can understand in any language.
Although I happen to enjoy the mellifluous sound of Spanish, I am well aware that not everyone shares my enthusiasm therefor. It is a hot button issue here in California, where the Mexican border is just down the road a piece. Many object to the plethora of signs in Spanish and to the way our state and federal governments feel compelled to translate everything into that language.
My father, for example, refers to Spanish as “babble” and will gladly tell you how he feels about people who speak languages other than English in public. “You like this country?” he starts off. “You want to stay here? Learn the [insert invective here] language!” I’d be a little more specific, but Dad’s colorful language is a notch or two stronger than maldito and I consider this a (more or less) family blog.
It seems obvious to me that just because two people converse in a foreign language doesn’t mean that they don’t speak fluent English as well. Bilingualism is alive and well in California. And I know of no law that states that you have a right to understand conversations that don’t involve you just because they happen to be conducted in public. Our Constitution’s First Amendment right to freedom of speech is not limited to the English language.
There are those who point out that when Americans travel to other nations, they are expected to speak the native tongue, not English. I call this the “when in Rome, do as the Romans do” theory. I poked around online to see how much validity this theory actually has. The answer I found is “not much.” A recent article in the Washington Post points out that English is widely spoken in 101 countries, is one of the official languages in 35 countries and is the most widely studied foreign language. This final statistic may not seem like such a big deal until you realize that approximately 1.5 billion people worldwide are currently studying English. Then I saw this map of the second most spoken languages in countries around the world. I found it interesting that English is the second most spoken language in Japan (good for my nephew when he visits his girlfriend who is currently teaching there) and in Russia (presumably a lucky thing for Edward Snowden).
I am a fan of diversity because homogeneity is, quite frankly, rather boring. It would be a dull world indeed if we were all exactly the same. I find it fun to learn about the cultures and traditions of others and delight when they take an interest in my own. And if I know that you speak another language in addition to English, I will make an effort to learn at least a few words of it. And I will try to remember that there is no such thing as an exact translation.
So, yes, I may be an impostor, and I may butcher your native tongue unmercifully, but if I catch you saying something funny in Spanish in Wal-Mart, don’t be surprised if I chuckle as I walk by.