Speaking of Tongues ? Travel Writing in Cambodia

posted by Satyam Kaswala

Teenagers shook off their shoes before trickling into the Journeys Within Our Communities classroom. Some of us in the study abroad group volunteered to help teach an English conversation class to the young Cambodian students, who seemed eager to be armed with a language that could serve as a weapon against poverty and potentially propel them to higher paying jobs, satisfying careers and other intellectual pursuits. They sat in desks arranged like a rainbow, the white board serving as the space between the pots of gold. The instructor, Andrea, directed us to work with groups of a few students each and handed us a sheet of paper with an English exercise on it. The story spilled on the paper told a simple tale of a couple debating whether to tour the Grand Canyon by helicopter or by bus. My use of the term ?simple? here is shortsighted.

??Helicopter?? one student asked. It disarmed me.

??????????? The spinning blades of the fan above us chopped the air, and I quickly pointed to them hoping it would spark some association in their mind. My pointing finger began to twirl erratically as if stuck in the fan?s whirlwind current as I further tried to mimic the motion of a chopper?s blades.

??????????? The students looked at me like I just stole their mail. They were puzzled.

??????????? I tried to describe it with some spare English. I scribbled a drawing of what some would interpret as a helicopter on the corner of the paper.

??????????? ?Oh!? one student exclaimed. I still don?t know whether she recognized the helicopter or simply acknowledged the act of creation.

??????????? I thought of the history of the machine in the region in an effort to maybe draw a connection, seeking to invoke the students? understanding of their nation?s recent memory. The United States invaded Cambodia in the 1970s under the Nixon administration. It hurtled bombs at the eastern part of the country. Helicopters carried some of those bombs. That was all I could think of, and I didn?t know how to use it.

??????????? I had no ground to stand on. How could I relate this concept that was basic to me but foreign to the students without using words? It is true that most communication does not come from words. Still, having language as a vehicle for communication was something I was so accustomed to that when it was rendered useless, I felt stranded. And when gestures don?t work and drawings don?t work, I?m left to wonder: is it possible that some things simply cannot be communicated?

??????????? On a personal level, art, for instance, conveys ideas for which words might not even exist. As does emotion itself. But the exchange I had existed on a cultural level. Surely all of us knew what a helicopter was, but we still could not quite convince each other of it. This exchange was a microcosm of the larger fundamental struggle of intercultural dialogue. We often consider language to be the most immediate form of this dialogue. Here again that immediacy was shaken. There is a popular slogan plastered on countless shirts sold in the Siem Reap markets: ?SAME SAME, BUT DIFFERENT.? Somehow this perplexing sentence never made more sense than when I was in that classroom.

There are ideas in Cambodian culture for which I as an American have no point of reference in my culture and vise versa. At least some of those students likely came from the impoverished Cambodian countryside that modernity eluded. Of course, despite the fact that they might not be able to cloak their ideas, struggles, longings, realities or thoughts in a particularly popular and acceptable language that the world can understand, other seemingly poor, rural Cambodians still have untold treasures of knowledge, language and expression equally as complex and vital as something like English. So much so that I was left to wonder for a moment why it was me that was teaching them my language and not the other way around, especially since I was in their country. I thought of Henry David Thoreau:

?It is a ridiculous demand?which?England and America make, that you shall speak so that they can understand you.?
Indeed, these students were learning my language because the world at large chose to understand English, the favored medium of expression between cultures in this age of globalization. However, in the classroom I saw English being used not necessarily as a ridiculous, demanding commodity but rather as a means to understand others, their cultures, their ideas. We were making a sincere effort, and that was the most important step.

It was a challenge. But when I smiled or laughed, they did too. This unspoken communication was the most authentic I had with them that day. Some things may not be readily understood or expressed, but that does not mean they are not universal.

?Education is the key to success,? became a phrase I grew to loath when I was younger. My teachers and parents would incessantly repeat this phrase as if to hammer it into my brain, though unsuccessful with their attempts. After growing older, getting my act together and maturing in many ways I know now that my elders were completely correct, a good education is a valuable and necessary possession. On Thursday afternoon I casually strolled into the JWOC English class with thoughts of what I would eat for dinner and how good I would sleep clouding my mind. Class began and I was immediately brought back to Earth through my first interaction with a Cambodian student. The sudden reality of the moment hit me, and I realized that I could actually help these people.

As a high school and college student I studied the Spanish language for some years. Even after all the hours of studying I still would not call myself fluent in the language. The English class at JWOC challenged students with a more rigorous workload than any of my college Spanish classes. The teacher, an American, spoke only English to the class for the entire hour. The students were delightful and eager to learn, but many did not know English as well as I expected them to. As the class went on I began to form a new found respect for teachers. It is a hard job to be patient when you feel that your student should know something that they don?t. Teachers must have a light heart and an understanding for others that some would not be able to muster. My regard not only grew for teachers but for the students, trying to their hardest to carry on a conversation with me and at the same time being very careful as not to embarrass themselves. The effort they gave in that hour was, in my eyes, inspiring. Their huge smiles, awkward giggles, and intense effort to understand was unlike anything I?ve witnessed before.

The class came to an end, and as they packed up their things, filed out the door and thanked me, I watched as the students hopped onto their motorbikes and drove away. Standing in the room empty of students I felt a lump in my throat filled with things unsaid. I wanted to tell them that their hunger to learn was inspiring to me. I wanted to tell the ones that were struggling to keep pushing through until it came easy, because they were improving their lives by just sitting in the class and learning. I wanted to tell them that they were more courageous than I have ever been. I wanted to thank them for introducing me to something I have not seen in many people, a true desire to be better for themselves and for their families.

A non-profit organization like JWOC is so important to this community because a price cannot be put on the value of a good education. It opens doors to all who have the ambition and put in the work. A twinge of ignorance and juvenility pulses through my body as I look back on my attitude about the importance of learning. The students in the English class will never know this, but they taught me a lot about life that day.

Source: http://travelwritingincambodia.wordpress.com/2011/05/30/speaking-of-tongues/

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