Iglesia de La Merced in Granada where I attend church with my Nica host family on Sundays
Published June 19, 2014, last updated on October 5, 2017 under Voices of DGHI
By Betsy Asma, MSc-GH Student
Engineering World Health Summer Institute
Stepping off the plane into the Spanish-speaking Managua airport instantly filled my body with paralyzing fear. This complete language immersion was anything but comforting and I was completely humbled by my inability to verbally communicate. Not only was this new environment completely foreign and extremely humid, my limited high school Spanish put me at the speaking ability around that of a Nicaraguan kindergartener (which I’m sure has been very entertaining to most!).
While living in Granada, I am staying with a host family, all of whom do not speak a word of English! I’m sure watching our daily interactions provides hours of hilarious entertainment. It’s a constant game of charades-complete with exaggerated arm movements, lots of pointing and mostly ends in universal confusion on both ends. Although this process is slowly improving as my Spanish vocabulary increases, this frustrating process has also become unifying that we don’t need common words to communicate. Regardless of my level of Spanish, my host family knows I need food, water and shelter-every person has these same common needs which translate directly across language barriers. Our host mom is also concerned with keeping us healthy, taking extra care preparing food and reminding us to drink filtered water-this natural desire for health proves to me how access to healthcare is also a universal right which transcends the language divide.
It’s amazing how universal most of life is, regardless of language. This past Sunday, I attended mass with my host mom, Elisa, at one of the countless Catholic churches that exist every two blocks throughout Granada. Elisa broke out in an ear splitting grin when I confirmed mass was “exactamente la misma” (exactly the same) in the United States. She found it highly entertaining how I understood about 5 words spoken throughout the course of the hour-long service, yet I still was able to engage and participate.
My struggles with communication have only just begun-I often am frustrated with my inability not only to express my needs but also to converse and engage in polite conversation, particularly in asking my host family about their day and actually comprehending their response. Anytime we go off script (I am a very good Spanish conversationalist if we stick to family, food and weather!), I am a deer in headlights.
What I’ve learned most so far is never underestimate the power of laughter, particularly the ability to laugh at oneself. Laughter doesn’t have a nationality or language. Most of our epic charades end with laughter over some weird phrase I managed to spit out in Spanish-that isn’t even cohesive. The ability to a laugh at myself has really allowed me to bond with my host family, regardless that we don’t speak a common language.
