Lessons from the bonfire
I attended a church retreat this past weekend with a large segment of the Hispanic members of my church. One of the planned activities for the retreat was a bonfire to be held late Friday evening. In preparation for that event, I had cut a large oak tree that had been felled by a recent wind storm and loaded the wood on the back of my pickup truck. I hoped to use this wood, if needed, for the bonfire.
When the time came for the activity (about 10pm last Friday) I left the lodge area with one of the members to take the wood to the bonfire pit (the area was about 100 meters from the lodge, but, since we did not want to carry the wood by hand, I drove my truck and parked in a wooded area near the fire pit). The man who went with me was supposed to direct me to the pit area (it was dark at the time) and could not speak English. Though the fire pit was relatively near the lodge, I had to negotiate the truck through a network of trails to arrive at the bonfire pit.
When we arrived, we started the fire and waited for others to arrive. The fire quickly developed and people (mostly men) began to arrive at the location. Soon, the entire group was engaged in fraternal conversations regarding events that had occurred earlier in the evening. The members were laughing and passing stories using local idioms and jargon native to the Spanish language spoken by most immigrants.
When the fire developed better, I stepped over to add more firewood. Then it happened. I looked into the fire, adjusted a large piece of wood so it would be engaged in the flame then said “Hay bastante leña aquí”.
Everyone became silent. The only thing I could hear was the crackling of the fire. By that time, about 8 to 10 people were there, all speaking Spanish. A few could speak English, but not very well. My first thought was “what in the (world) did I say?”. My mind raced back over the words. It sounded good to me. I was glad it was dark. The other people could not see how embarrassed I had become.
After a short time (it seemed like a half-hour to me), someone else began to speak about another other topic. I was relieved. By that time, others were arriving at the location, so the fellowship grew. I stayed with them about an hour longer, then decided to go back to the lodge. I told everyone good evening and drove back to the lodge alone.
The next morning, I asked one of more skilled speakers about the phrase. The only recommendation he could offer is I may have pronounced “leña” with incorrect emphasis on the “e” so that is sounded like “línea”, or “line”, which would make no sense at all in context. Anyway, it serves as another testimony of my story in learning Spanish.
I’ve learned a couple of lessons from this experience. First, totally unrelated words can be mistaken by subtle incorrect pronunciation differences. Second, and more importantly, looking back, I believe they understood exactly what I said. I believe the silence was caused as a normal response to my intrusion into their group activity. This was an event they all enjoyed as a group. I had, though intending to support the activity, introduced myself into a social circumstance where I did not belong. People welcome my Spanish when I try to help them in health care or other physical support, but they want to maintain a group integrity of which I am not a member.
I suppose I will always be an “usted”, and I will always be a gringo.
4 Answers
Thanks for sharing this Dogwood. It reminds me of a bonfire we had in the Dominican Republic with a group of teens in mid August. For whatever reason, although I had been teaching and communicating with these kids all week, at the bonfire, they were all sort of clustered into little groups and having private conversations. I didn't want to force myself into anyone's conversation. From the little I could hear, they were talking about the beginning of the school year and other topics that didn't relate directly to me. I did have one girl who came over and started asking me questions about Philadelphia because her brother lived there. That was a nice conversation. But over all, I felt like you did. When my help was needed and/or I was teaching or assisting in someway, I was popular. But in a more intimate setting (sitting around a bonfire), they were more interested in just catching up with each other and sharing their own private jokes, stories, etc.
I think deep down, those of us who are trying to learn Spanish are looking for validation that our hard work and efforts are paying off. So when you were telling them that there was enough firewood, there could have been a number of reasons that you heard only crickets in the background. As mentioned, perhaps they confused one of the words. It could be that they actually didn't hear you since they were involved in their own conversations. It could be as simple as many are self conscious if they are here illegally. It could be a combination of all three.
As adults, we don't have the carefree and innocent attitude that children have when they are learning a language. We have a million and one thoughts swirling in our heads, wondering if we are being understood. We tend to be our own worst enemies. Sometimes, people unknowingly (or knowingly) add to our insecurities by making negative comments....or simply by ignoring us. That is to be expected since there will always be ignorant people in the world.
People welcome my Spanish when I try to help them in health care or other physical support, but they want to maintain a group integrity of which I am not a member.
I suppose I will always be an “usted”, and I will always be a gringo.
I truly understand this dynamic that you have just experienced. It can be frustrating. But the truth is, we are different. If you think of it in the reverse, it can be very helpful. You may have a close friend who happens to be Mexican. He will always be Mexican. However, your friendship and your feelings for him are not effected by his nationality or skin color. You wouldn't want him to be any different than he is. You certainly wouldn't want him to act and behave "just like a gringo" because that would take away from who he really is. The same is true for your "true" Spanish speaking friends and to those who really appreciate all you are doing to help them in the clinic. No matter where we go in life (even in our home towns) we will always be an "usted". However, I'm sure there are many Spanish speaking natives who consider you to be a tú already. That number is only going to grow as you continue learning and using the language! 
Hi Dogwood,
I'm so sad that you may have felt left out... It may be that you just have to persevere. The community might still be adjusting to the idea that you are trying to become a full and active member. I know nothing of your living circumstances but maybe they expect you to move on to a different area sooner or later and therefore just don't bother to fully mix. Don't give up!!!
Saludos, Chica
Dogwood, your experience is intriguing, but lacking linguistic clarification, who really knows what the "lesson" was? There is nothing to fault in your actions. The comment about the others perhaps hearing "línea" was interesting, because Mexicans often use that word for the border between the US and Mexico (check out the song by Lila Downs La Línea). In any case, miscommunications can happen, but sharing fellowship around a bonfire is still a fine thing to do!
I fail to understand what happened here. Are these people oblivious or insensitive to your being? While I wouldn't expect hero-worship, I would have expected at least some of them to step forward and help out, so at least you couldn't hear crickets in the embarrassing silence. Or was there something in the tradition that required the fire, once started, to burn entirely unassisted for some symbolic purpose, and your help was somehow regarded as an intrusion?
