Bom dia.
Namaste.
Ahoj.
Hello.
For two years, I floated in Portuguese.
Tudo bom? (How are you?)
Tudo bem. (I'm good.)
Each morning
when I entered my school campus in Brazil,
the security guards and I
exchanged these smiley greetings.
For four years, I zoomed around India.
Bus. (Stop.)
Bus. Bus! (Stop right now because this is the shop I want to visit.)
Each day
as I buzzed
around Mumbai in a rickshaw,
I knew I needed to lean forward
so I could see out and tell
the rickshaw driver
to stop as he approached my destination.
For four years, I dined in Prague.
Dobrou chut' (Enjoy your meal.)
Na zdraví. (Cheers.)
Each day
as I ate lunch
or enjoyed a Friday Happy Hour with my friends,
we wished each other well
as we shared food and time
together.
Outside these small moments,
I lived in a bubble.
Understanding some.
Using the Google Translate app on my phone.
Reading labels.
Making guesses.
Language became background noise
when I didn't have enough.
I lived in an English language bubble.
Choosing when it formed.
Choosing when I popped it.
Six months ago,
English burst my language bubble.
My return to Chicago
popped it.
Some days, I hear
the everyday conversations
of families at the grocery store
about which aisle contains
an ingredient for tonight's dinner.
These are the moments living
outside the bubble
guides joy into my heart.
Some days I hear
families in disagreement
over big topics.
Or I turn on the car radio
where I'm greeted by
the weekend's violence.
These are the moments living
outside the bubble
my head feels overwhelmed.
My language bubble
wasn't made of gum so
I can't blow one again.
Instead, it was like a soap
bubble floating into
the air.
My language bubble burst.
Such an insightful poem about ways English speakers navigate life in countries where the populace speaks a different language. I’m eternally grateful I can travel to non-English countries and know many there will know English. As an eavesdropper—an occupational hazard—it’s hard to imagine daily life in places where I don’t understand the cacophony of background words. I love the code switching in your poem.
ReplyDeleteThanks Glenda. I feel like your line about eavesdropping could easily turn itself into a slice.
DeleteI appreciate the different textures and natures of your language bubble. "I can't blow one again" to note that a new chapter is open and the previous bubble is finally burst. I wish you well for your transition back.
ReplyDeleteYou are right that the bubble notes hoped to express the opening and closing of chapters in my book of life. Thanks for the well wishes.
ReplyDeleteI know exactly how you feel about the English bubble, we've been living in that on and off for 25 years (mainly in India). Sometimes it is so good not to know what people are saying about you, particularly here where you stick out like a sore thumb! I really like the way you have put it all together and made comparisons. Once when I was back in Australia, (just arrived), "I turned to my daughter and said, "Oh they're speaking in English!" Oops!
ReplyDelete