I don't like my last post. It's a Debby of a downer, but that happens once in a while.
My tea arrives. Finally. Something to focus on. I pull it in towards me, scoop up some honey from the little pot, then watch it slowly swirl down into my drink, forming a little layer on the bottom of the mug. A treat for later. There are three other people at the table with me and they are deep in conversation. Their faces light up with humor at something said, they lean forward, backs stretching in towards the speaker as a confidential detail is quietly described. Hands fly through the air to provide additional explanation, air is sharply inhaled as they gasp at something too bizarre to believe. Laughter erupts and faces turn red as they try not to laugh too loud, suddenly embarrassed. A happy silence follows, with little sighs of comfort and memory. Everyone is reflecting on something, it seems. Something funny from the past, a funny person they once knew, an embarrassing night out on the town, perhaps, when a few too many tsuicas were consumed. I can only imagine. One of them glances at me and hesitates; I know what's coming. "Uh, it was a joke", he says in English and then proceeds to explain the joke to me, in English. It takes about twenty seconds to tell me the five minute ordeal I had just witnessed. The joke ends abruptly and the speaker looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to get it. It's not funny. To me, it's not funny, but I proceed to make the sounds and gestures that resemble laughter and everyone politely joins in. It goes on far too long, I think, this fake laughter, but we all fear what we know will follow. Slowly, silence ensues. It's not the satisfied silence from before, instead it's a silence endured with sideways glances, oddly stretched smiles, and tangible attempts at resuming some sort of conversation. I take a sip of tea, trying to maintain a smile. My hand shakes slightly, tea drips on my shirt, it’s not sweet enough. I take a napkin from the table and busily dab at the spot on my shirt and as I dab away for what feels like decades, someone discovers a suitable topic and gratefully breaks the tension. I resume my role of the clueless observer, wishing deeply that I could understand, and wishing that the honey was not now on the other end of the table, just out of reach.
5 comments:
i am a firm believer that life
is 10% what happens and 90% attitude
i am responsible for my own happiness
peace & love
your cousin and a proud community organizer
leigh
Perhaps a peanut butter and honey sandwich would be soothing. mmm.
That old awkwardness in conversation we all experience ultimately leads to a great appreciation for the comfortable, laughter-filled times. Hang in there, you'll find them.
Don't you sometimes wish they just wouldn't translate the jokes?!
We all feel that awkwardness sometimes, even when our own language is being spoken. It's like that "deer-in-the-headlights" look--it's something we share nationwide!
So don't feel bad for not getting it :-/
Humor is the hardest thing to translate, even in Spanish I don't get the jokes, or they just don't seem funny. Humor seems to be very culturally specific, but also something that makes people feel good, so they want to share it with you. Only you don't think it's funny, because you don't have the cultural markers they do. Politely laughing it off isn't that bad of a thing to do.
Your reflection on how delicate your decision to join the PC was (in another post) reminds me of a joke we used to have in the DR, which was that the only reason anyone ever joins the PC is because they have free return postage on the application.
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