Language Barriers

It's really humbling to not speak the language. Most other places I've travelled, people generally speak at least a little English, or I know enough words in the local language to get by. Here in central Vietnam, away from the tourist areas, neither is the case. Communication is a challenge, in restaurants, shops and taxis. We've been dependent on the few people who do speak a bit of English, like the hotel receptionist or Nhup (when he's with us). And we've gotten good at charades! It's definitely given me more empathy for the Montagnards and other immigrants who come to the U.S. and have to depend on others to do even basic things that require language proficiency.

We haven't always been sure what we'll end up getting when we try to place an order for food or drinks. Our taxi driver had a whole conversation with us the other day, and we have no clue at all what he told us! But other times, somehow the meaning gets through even without the right words. Yesterday, it started pouring rain when dad & I were out walking in Kon Tum, so we ducked under the awning of a coffee shop. A group of Vietnamese people sitting on the patio pulled up two extra chairs and waved us inside to sit with them. They shared their roasted sunflower seeds and guava, and we managed to introduce ourselves and share what country we came from. With hand signals, we learned each other's ages, and who was married, and how many kids and grandkids everyone had. One lady kept laughing uncontrollably and we're still not sure why, but it didn't seem like she was laughing AT us, at least! It was a nice moment of surprise connection.

We've had many moments of connection across the language barrier on our visits in the village, too. There's plenty of body language to communicate welcome, like handshakes and smiles, toasts and insistently waving us over to taste each and every pot of rice wine. Music helps, too. The last couple of days we've done lots of singing with a group of little girls at the church. They sang songs in Vietnamese and Jarai for us, dad and I sang a few songs for them, and then we taught them several simple English songs. They were so excited they practiced them over and over and over again. By the time we left, they really had "Jesus Loves Me" and "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" down.

Speaking the same language isn't essential to developing a friendship, as many at St. Paul's already know well. But it sure does make life a whole lot easier and more convenient, more predictable, when you can be sure you're understood. It takes a lot more faith and trust to go through your day hoping that everyone around you is on the same page as you, especially when they are in control of where you're going or what you're eating!