Yesterday was a very hot day in NYC. It was so humid I was breathing in almost liquified air. In fact, it was so hot it brought back to mind my 2 month stint as a relief worker in the Amazon jungle. There are still 2 things that stand out vividly about that time, the people I met and the unbearable heat and humidity of that place.
The people are like those you would find anywhere where there's starvation - grateful for any help given. Their gratitude, humility, and genuine friendship are with me still today. I don't need to see video or pictures of that time because each face, each smile and every tear is indelibly recorded in my mind as if it just happened; instead of the 12 years that it's been. There are so many wonderful stories I could share with you from that time, but one in particular funny one stands out. It happened just a few hours after my arrival while I was awaiting to meet the men I would act as interpreter for. I would be sharing these duties with 2 others interpreters (also men) who were coming from Europe.
I was a bit nervous as my French and Portuguese were very rusty and my knowledge of Italian was limited. But this is where I was needed most, not in vaccination tents with children or in a kitchen cooking over a hot stove. This is where my God given skills were needed.
My flight arrived at the airport purposefully before everyone elses. That way I would be able to ensure the team of Dr’s. and scientists I was to work with would have an easy walk through customs.
Four hours later, after everyone had arrived, I was the only woman amongst 15 staff workers, all men. I was trying to be more of an observer than a participant, trying to figure out culture and dynamics so as to gain an understanding of those I would interpret for. However, that didn’t last long as a number of the guys, being the usual testosterone loaded European/South American males they were, were trying to draw me out by asking questions about my personal life. Soon the double entendre and flirting began on their part. You see, in that culture, an unescorted woman, scratch than, an unescorted American woman meant to them that she was both a free spirit and uninhibited. What they didn’t realize was that I had been sent there by a Christian organization.
As the conversation continued I was asked what kind of food I preferred, and how I liked it prepared. Being that vegetarianism was an unfamiliar concept to them, I had to explain in a way they would understand. At one point I responded to a question by saying that "I don't like preservatives. I'm not able to use them because I'm allergic, so I do everything naturally and without preservatives".
At this their eyes sparkled and their subdued smiles broke into wide eager grins. As they repeatedly began exchanging glances with each other (a few started smacking their lips as if staring at prime ribs - Me). By the look on their faces I knew I had said something terribly wrong. I just stood there with a stupid grin on my face, trying to figure out what it was that I had just said. Finally, one of the interpreters whispered in my ear the literal translation:
"I don't like condoms. I'm not able to use them because I'm allergic, so I have to do everything naturally and without condoms".
Needless to say I was mortified. Surrounded by men I wanted the earth to swallow me whole. I turned beet red before I even had a chance to cover my face with my hands. Since it was nighttime and we were standing outdoors in very dim light no one noticed.
However, some of the men were so entertained by what had just happened they said nothing waiting to see what I would say next. I still shudder from the memory as I could almost hear their thoughts. Turning to my fellow interpreter I asked that he please explain to them what I really meant to say, to which all responded with laughter. Afterwards I promptly asked what was the correct word used for food preservative. It turns out I had used an incorrect vowel the "o" instead of an "a". Having been made aware of this, I committed the word to memory so I wouldn't have the same experience at restaurants.
Since Michele was a difficult name for South Americans to pronounce in spanish, thereafter I was referred to as "La Natural" when I wasn't present. I still shudder at the memory of that embarassing moment.
[originally posted on blogspot on 8/1/04]