Remember to pack a toothbrush, comb and drag along two translators
My apologies for the lack of posts. With the closing of school for winter vacation I sought the opportunity to explore the country. I was in the middle of finalizing a Himalayan summit trip while sitting at the local mall’s eatery when I was approached by a lost soul. After striking up some conversation I discovered that he too a humanitarian out to taint the minds of children worked up north in century old villages. I jumped at the opportunity. Cancelling my plans I instead slingshot my thoughts to the other side of the country and completing a week’s worth of math workshops at the local villages. The plan was to teach them some math techniques and make use of a language I hardly ever get the chance to speak.
I could not have been more wrong. Upon arrival I discovered that I could not understand a word of what they said nor they my ranting. So I desperately called and called up on my translator for every little thing until we reached the outskirts of the village to discover that he too could not speak the local language. So began my two day search for another translator, during that time I tried to teach them the Arabic numerical system by writing in the dirt with sticks and holding up fingers. After several failed attempts I resorted to playing a muddled version of football-field hockey with an old hollowed out coconut.
After the arrival of the second translator things brightened up a lot. Not only was I able to bare-bone communicate I could actually do what I was supposed to do, teach, instead of jump around like a hyper river monkey. When I wasn’t teaching I was trekking through the lush forests and climbing up waterfalls.
Upon first approaching them with a translator at hand I asked them how the counted the days in a month. One of the village men brought out a thick piece of hemp which had several knots, stones and several other objects I could not recognize, or even begin to describe. He promptly began to elaborately explain how he kept track of the days using a string and what the objects represented, the small shell for example was a wedding at the village and the once white string represented the last day the western doctors visited. My goal was not to discredit their methods of accomplishing simple tasks but rather to let them know that the world outside their remote rainforest is moving quickly without them and I hoped to teach them only a small part of what most humanity already knew. In the end I learned more from them and their primitively complex methods than I could have taught them about counting.
I had left the comfort of my room and international standard job with a backpack of snack and duffle bag of clothes and a first aid kit and I returned with a life changing experience, which included petting a wild elephant, climbing through some amazing places and learning that I too could count with sting, shells and bamboo.
I could not have been more wrong. Upon arrival I discovered that I could not understand a word of what they said nor they my ranting. So I desperately called and called up on my translator for every little thing until we reached the outskirts of the village to discover that he too could not speak the local language. So began my two day search for another translator, during that time I tried to teach them the Arabic numerical system by writing in the dirt with sticks and holding up fingers. After several failed attempts I resorted to playing a muddled version of football-field hockey with an old hollowed out coconut.
After the arrival of the second translator things brightened up a lot. Not only was I able to bare-bone communicate I could actually do what I was supposed to do, teach, instead of jump around like a hyper river monkey. When I wasn’t teaching I was trekking through the lush forests and climbing up waterfalls.
Upon first approaching them with a translator at hand I asked them how the counted the days in a month. One of the village men brought out a thick piece of hemp which had several knots, stones and several other objects I could not recognize, or even begin to describe. He promptly began to elaborately explain how he kept track of the days using a string and what the objects represented, the small shell for example was a wedding at the village and the once white string represented the last day the western doctors visited. My goal was not to discredit their methods of accomplishing simple tasks but rather to let them know that the world outside their remote rainforest is moving quickly without them and I hoped to teach them only a small part of what most humanity already knew. In the end I learned more from them and their primitively complex methods than I could have taught them about counting.
I had left the comfort of my room and international standard job with a backpack of snack and duffle bag of clothes and a first aid kit and I returned with a life changing experience, which included petting a wild elephant, climbing through some amazing places and learning that I too could count with sting, shells and bamboo.