Communication 101

Hola y Buenos noches de San Cristobal, Chiapas

Here begins our royal experiment in blogging. It is our earnest hope that these stories and pictures share a taste of our Chiapas sabbatical. While the adventurous excitement of spending this time in southern Mexico allows us unique opportunities for renewal and rejuvenation, being away also means we will miss quality time from our dear friends and family (and church). May this blog lessen the spatial divide.

Waiting for our flight to Mexico City heightened the importance of communication, which is one of the major reasons we are here. On one side of the seating area was a deaf mother and her overly gregarious, non-deaf son from Madison, Wisconsin. We fielded many, many questions. They were en route to a vacation destination. She was armed with a Blackberry. On the other side was a Mexican American father with a daughter about Nola’s age. The father was bilingual and they were off to visit family around the Mexico City area. We all communicated through various means—lip reading, translation of English/Spanish, the use of the Blackberry, and in the case of the children, simply being children. Yes, there were limitations to what could be communicated, much like being an English speaking tourist in Mexico, or a Spanish speaking immigrant to the West side of Grand Rapids. One can get by, but only through the assistance and patience of people who can “bridge” the differences created by language, culture, and even disability. In this case, the main bridge-builder was the Mexican American father—a trumpeter in a mariachi band--who was born in Mexico but now lives in Chicago. He had the ability and desire to connect folks normally disconnected because of language or disability. We hope to act as such “bridges” in our life back in the “norte” when we return. During these next 11 weeks, we will be very reliant upon folks willing to spend a few extra moments with us while we fumble through dictionaries and limited vocabulary. Without such help, we wouldn’t be able to do much. Communication certainly involves linguistic “knowledge” but in the wider picture, effective communication necessitates a bridge-building desire. This is certainly true for the work of the gospel (many of us just sang a riveting rendition of “Go Tell it on the Mountain” on Christmas Eve) but also as human beings trying to live together with dignity. I write all of this as Kenya further implodes and as Madison Avenue readies more negative campaign ads in New Hampshire.

On a different note, we’ve dug into our apartment and have enjoyed reacquainting ourselves with San Cristobal. The market is bustling. The streets are filled with energy. The fruits are lush. The coffee is thick. Once we figured out the Spanish word for matches (really—how else would we light our stove?) we enjoyed a Chiapan meal—black beans, tortillas, green beans, manchego cheese, and potatoes…with fresh pineapple for dessert.

It is great being back and walking Nola (Nolita down here) and Marcie (Marcella) through one our favorite places in the wider mundo. Both girls are getting plenty of stares, smiles, and kisses (the locals say that they are muy preciosas). Our only complaint is that it is extremely cold. Seriously. While we are in the highlands of Chiapas, this weather seems exceptionally harsh. With folks shivering everywhere we go, it is also apparent that this is harsh by local standards as well. While it would be nice to have the sun make an appearance, life goes on. Language lessons (bridge building) formally begin next week, but they really started before we even got onto the plane.

Here are links to two videos: one of our apartment and one of the streets of San Cristobal.

Karsten