Indiana Jones: If only these people knew you the way I knew you.
Beloq: You could warn them if only you spoke Hovito.
It’s been seven months since we first arrived in Togo. In that time, I’ve shared my moments of frustration because I didn’t, or rather don’t speak French fluently. However, I’m noticing more and more that the problem isn’t going to be the lack of French I speak or not pronouncing the “r” correctly – in Togo they pronounce the “r” like “rr” as in carro (Spanish) – but that most of the people in Togo are like some Americans: they have a short tolerance for those who don’t speak the native language. Let’s take for example Janice. Janice is a good person. Hard-working, college educated, smart, pretty, etc. One day Pedro walks up to her as she leaves a restaurant and asks, in Spanish, where the hospital is located. Now, she could easily say, “Well sir, I don’t speak Spanish” and continue on with her day. Every one knows what that means, even Pedrito’s five-year old daughter who doesn’t speak a lick of English but has seen ET once at home. Instead, she stares at him (bleeding and all) and tells him nothing. Yeah, I’m Pedro sometimes. In fact, I was Pedro when I went to a local restaurant knowing very well that foreigners frequent the place so someone must know at least the numbers in English. But heck, I spoke French and I pointed! So, what could I have done differently? Nothing, well besides keep practicing my French. People are the same everywhere. You have those that will do their best to help you out and those that want to watch you starve or die because you can’t speak their language, or they have already decided when they saw you walk up in your beautiful outfit, that they will refuse to understand you. I mean, how hard can it be to decipher two fingers up one hand while the other points to the menu?
And that’s not all. Most educated Togolese speak French, but many others just speak Ewe. So, Peace Corps volunteers that have French backgrounds have a head start in learning the local language. I’ve learned how to say yes, no, lady, man, food, hungry, God. . . the essentials. But greetings in Togo are not the office greetings in the U.S. when someone asks how you are doing and walks by without hearing your response. Togolese greetings are EXTREMELY long. They want to know not only how you are doing but how your family, your neighbor, your health, your business, your kidneys, or even that open sore on your foot even if you told them the day before. Now, I’m not saying this is bad or redundantly painful, but when it’s your turn you better have remembered exactly what they said the day before. That’s when it gets tricky. Togolese get offended when you don’t remember their names or facts they’ve shared with you before. The good news, I have a great memory; the bad, it doesn’t help me speak Ewe.
Beloq: You could warn them if only you spoke Hovito.
It’s been seven months since we first arrived in Togo. In that time, I’ve shared my moments of frustration because I didn’t, or rather don’t speak French fluently. However, I’m noticing more and more that the problem isn’t going to be the lack of French I speak or not pronouncing the “r” correctly – in Togo they pronounce the “r” like “rr” as in carro (Spanish) – but that most of the people in Togo are like some Americans: they have a short tolerance for those who don’t speak the native language. Let’s take for example Janice. Janice is a good person. Hard-working, college educated, smart, pretty, etc. One day Pedro walks up to her as she leaves a restaurant and asks, in Spanish, where the hospital is located. Now, she could easily say, “Well sir, I don’t speak Spanish” and continue on with her day. Every one knows what that means, even Pedrito’s five-year old daughter who doesn’t speak a lick of English but has seen ET once at home. Instead, she stares at him (bleeding and all) and tells him nothing. Yeah, I’m Pedro sometimes. In fact, I was Pedro when I went to a local restaurant knowing very well that foreigners frequent the place so someone must know at least the numbers in English. But heck, I spoke French and I pointed! So, what could I have done differently? Nothing, well besides keep practicing my French. People are the same everywhere. You have those that will do their best to help you out and those that want to watch you starve or die because you can’t speak their language, or they have already decided when they saw you walk up in your beautiful outfit, that they will refuse to understand you. I mean, how hard can it be to decipher two fingers up one hand while the other points to the menu?
And that’s not all. Most educated Togolese speak French, but many others just speak Ewe. So, Peace Corps volunteers that have French backgrounds have a head start in learning the local language. I’ve learned how to say yes, no, lady, man, food, hungry, God. . . the essentials. But greetings in Togo are not the office greetings in the U.S. when someone asks how you are doing and walks by without hearing your response. Togolese greetings are EXTREMELY long. They want to know not only how you are doing but how your family, your neighbor, your health, your business, your kidneys, or even that open sore on your foot even if you told them the day before. Now, I’m not saying this is bad or redundantly painful, but when it’s your turn you better have remembered exactly what they said the day before. That’s when it gets tricky. Togolese get offended when you don’t remember their names or facts they’ve shared with you before. The good news, I have a great memory; the bad, it doesn’t help me speak Ewe.
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