It really started a few years ago when I travelled with Tru’ah to Immokalee, Florida as a “Tomato Rabbi.” Our delegation went to meet, learn from, and demonstrate with the Coalitions of Immokalee Workers that had organized against the extraordinarily unfair, unjust and punitive labor practice of tomato growers in central Florida. After years of self-organizing, the CIW was being recognized for its efforts to demand (and win) increased wages, enhanced safety procedures and fair labor practice.
None of the workers spoke English and all were either recent
immigrants or undocumented workers from throughout Latin America. It was the first time that I had experienced not
understanding the conversation and the speakers without interpreters – and in
my own country!
I was grateful for the interpreters and even more so for the
individuals who patiently told their stories in short paragraphs, pausing long
enough for the translators to render deep, personal struggles and challenges
into language we could comprehend. And
yet, I felt sad that all I could share back with those who stories I heard were
nods and smiles, and grateful handshakes and hugs. I wanted to say so much more, I wanted to
learn so much more. I had questions and a
strong desire to connect.
Several years later, in the first year of the Trump
administration, I found myself travelling to the border region, again, meeting
with recent migrants and asylum seekers. I went three times: twice to El Paso and
once to San Diego. And again, the
translators and interpreters provided us access to the stories I needed to hear
to understand exactly what was happening on my country’s borders. And I witnessed firsthand what a lack of
language justice can do to a person.
Almost no asylum seekers speak English – and only a few
actually speak Spanish. These are the
poorest of the poor, the most marginalized, coming to our shores. They speak K’iche’
or Kaqchikel or another one of the many indigenous Mayan languages spoken
throughout Central America. They have
never had access to school and can’t read or write. I had the opportunity to witness a series of “reasonable
fear” hearings - the first step in the process of determining whether someone
can claim asylum in the United States. And
I saw that the US provides Spanish language interpretation at most border-region
courthouses. But for rarer, more obscure
languages – very few interpreters are available. Instead, they use a dial-in system to an
interpreter speaking somewhere else – who often only speaks the indigenous language
and Spanish. That means that the defendant,
who is facing deportation or jail time, is speaking in their language to
someone who then speaks Spanish to someone else who then speaks English to the judge. And this is how our justice system is
determining the fate of those who come to our border.
We have an expectation in our country that those on trial
will be fairly represented and guaranteed due process. Language injustice is not due process.
Later that same year, I travelled to Guatemala with AJWS on
a clergy mission to learn about the root causes pushing migrants and asylum
seekers toward the United States. I
learned about the history of American involvement in Central America, the business
interests that inspired a CIA-led coup, the 35-year civil war, the disappearances
and mass killings by government troops.
And I learned about this again, completely through language interpreters
and translators.
Those interpreters did a wonderful job – but again, it felt
like a barrier, like a stumbling block.
And this was a stumbling block not created by the people we were there
to learn from – but by us, by Americans.
We are the only developed nation in the world that does not expect significant
language acquisition and study by our students.
We are the only ones who demand people learn to speak “like us” and
cater to our ignorance.
Many nations – many democracies – have multiple official languages
– India has 22 recognized official languages; Israel has three and Canada has
two. Guatemala itself recognizes 21 Mayan
languges.
And we in the United States can’t handle more than one.
Spanish is America’s second language. Over 41 million people in America speak Spanish
as their first or home language, 13% of the population. I don’t think I will ever learn K’iche’ or Pashtun
or so many other of the world’s beautiful and glorious languages. I struggled hard to learn Hebrew, the ancient
language of the Jewish civilization – and through that struggle I have had
access to wonderful literature, songs, poetry, conversations, and people.
I am now committed to learning Spanish as one of the
languages of the other civilization of which I am a part of - the American
civilization. So that’s why Guatemala,
that’s why Spanish.
Why now is easier -- because this is the first moment post-pandemic
that we could make it happen. Antigua
was shut down for much of the past two years and no one was traveling abroad
from the United States. Even though
Covid is still with us, and cases seem to be rising again, people are no on the
move. The airports are crowded, the
streets are full. It’s time to see the
world again. Guatemala has just
instituted a full masking policy – so it isn’t back to normal. But here we are.
Thanks for coming on this journey with us.
Gracias por lea mi blog.
Yo quiero escribir cada dia en Guatemala.
Forty years after my last Spanish class I can still read it well enough at a basic level to understand what you wrote above. But if you spoke it, I'd probably miss most of it. Different brain functions and memory plus more time (I can concentrate on those sentences; doing so while listening becomes available because the speaker has already moved on). Learning it is on my list for when I "retire" back to Providence. I don't need it for my current work but if I want to be involved in civic affairs there, learning to hear it and speak it will make a world of difference.
ReplyDeleteHi Charlie - thanks for reading! Yes, Spanish is very important in most urban areas these days!
Delete