52.8% fluent

Here’s a meditative sort of question I get asked by friends and acquaintances back home: “so … do you, like, speak Spanish now?” A breezy “yes” or “no” would undoubtedly suffice. Or, more accurately, an “I’m getting there.” Instead, I usually launch with full abandon (of my questioner’s interest) into a discourse on language acquisition, on tiers of competency, on the utility of language as a method of worthwhile interaction in the first place. Possibly, I’m self-conscious.

To be honest, I’ll speak volumes of Don Quixote-esque prose on a Tuesday and then drool all over myself asking for a spoon on Wednesday (la cuchara, by the way). And to be more honest, I’m probably speaking the same caliber of Spanish both days, just propping myself up or pulling myself down depending on mood. I came to Colombia with three years of high school Spanish, which sat on a dusty shelf for about eight years, and a couple adult-learning-center type courses. There was a base, but not a real grasp of execution or comprehension.

I’ve been down here three-and-a-half months now. I can communicate (with varying degrees of panache) everything I need to. I can tell stories, though timing is a real killer. Among the university educated, middle-class set, I can understand everything with ease. But here’s a problem: the most interesting people in Colombia (and maybe anywhere?) tend to be pushing a fruit cart, not working in an office. And the people pushing that fruit cart (or making shoes, like one recent contact, or working as prostitutes, community leaders, cooks, flower vendors …) tend to speak with a velocity and in a dialect that immediately sends me back to my “¿Dónde está la biblioteca?” days. These are the people I want/need to interview. Hmmmm ….

So the real question is, how can I meaningfully (and respectfully) pry the most intimate details of a person’s life when I can only understand some percent (well below 100) of what they’re saying? Do I even have a right to interview them? To this last question, which sits heavy with me, I defer to others. I feel that with a healthy dose of interest, sincerity, and apologetic humor, I’ve got the right to at least request information. I’d love to hear all sides on this, though. To the first question, which is logistical, I’ve developed a strategy that’s been working well and paying off in unexpected ways. And when I think about it, it’s really not all that different from my strategy interviewing people in English. It’s just more rigorous, which is maybe a lesson I should take with me back to the States.

First off, technology is wonderful. Yeah, yeah, it can be misused. But what chance would I have without it? For me, the most important pieces of kit when it comes to surmounting the language barrier are 1) Kodak zi8 video cam; 2) Olympus LS-10 audio recorder; 3) a notepad with a well-prepared list of questions.

Here’s what I do: when I meet a contact, often someone I pass on the street, I hit them with my strongest weapon — a propensity for looking utterly clueless and ridiculously out of place. I’m a 6’4″ redhead in a country that’s only just getting a taste of tourism. I stick out. So I use that. I approach with a big smile, curious eyes, and I ask some very basic question (e.g., “what barrio is this?”). That leads to more basic questions, or maybe a comment about how nice people are in this city (which is true), or maybe a bit of insight about how we don’t have aspect X of life where I’m from (Medellin is installing a set of public escalators to allow people easy access to their mountainside homes in the city’s western sector … we don’t have that where I’m from). There’s never anything dishonest in this exchange, though there’s definitely the affectation (or is there?) of a guy who doesn’t know thing one about the area. Throughout this initial exchange, which is never heavy enough to tax my Spanish, I keep it light, happy, complimentary. And then I introduce myself as a writer from the U.S. who’s interested in the area and wants to learn more. And then I close: “If I have any questions about the area, would it be okay to call or email you?” More often than not, I get contact information. Then I schedule a proper interview.

And this is where the tech comes in. I film (or at very least record audio from) every interview. The reason, simply, is that I’m going to miss an awful lot in the moment. Sometimes I’ll miss the nuance, other times I’ll flat out not understand. That’s a disadvantage, obviously, but it’s what I have to work with. During that first interview, I’m making a connection to the person I’m interviewing. I’m not scribbling furiously on a notepad, I’m not getting frustrated when there’s something I miss. I maintain total immersion in the moment, in the sentiment, and in the things I do understand (it’s not like I’m missing ALL, or even MOST of it … just SOME).

My well-prepared list of questions has hopefully inspired some interesting responses. When the interview is over, I go home and pore over the tape. Video is SO much easier to translate from. You’ve got body cues, you’ve got facial expressions, and you’ve got the visual memory to put you back in the moment. (It’s also a great way to see how people look in different emotional states, which is really helpful when you’re writing descriptions.) Once I’ve got a handle on what was said in the interview, I schedule another interview. Obviously you always want to react to what your subject tells you. When you can’t do it with 100% accuracy in the moment, you’ve got to go back to follow-up. Once more I set the Zi8 on a little flexible tripod thingy (the camera is small, not intimidating, and always positioned off to the side — with sustained eye contact, subjects almost always forget about it). I’ve got another set of well-prepared questions, most of them react questions from the first interview. I go through the process again. And again. And again if need be. It’s time consuming, but the net result is a very comprehensive interview. And, because I’ve got so much exposure to these people, because I’m building trust, I’m actually getting better information than I might have with only one interview. Like I said, a tactic to take back home.

So that’s it … nothing ground-breaking, nothing earth shattering, but a solid tactic that I’ve grown comfortable using. The most important thing, without a doubt, is to maintain a balance of humility and curiosity. And, of course, to never let a language deficit obscure the fact that you’re talking to a human being — a real person with important stories, outlooks, and opinions.