The barriers of our world are many. Between any two individuals exist innumerable protections against human interaction. By human interaction, I mean recognition of the other. The ability to understand the situation in which another human exists. Seeing oneself in that person.
We know that this interaction requires proximity. We know it requires communication. We know it requires historical similarity, the ability to relate to past events. But to interpret these as barriers rather than, forgive the cheesy metaphor, doors, is problematic and prevalent.
While it is true that these divisions exist, our cultural attitude is to reify them, and give them more attention than they deserve.
Ultimately, of the requirements listed above, proximity, teamed with a bit of hard work, is all that is needed. Communication and historical meaning follow. Over time, if we remain close to another person, or another culture, communication becomes easier and we begin to have shared experiences. And thus we begin to understand one another.
This is the frustration and difficulty in the early stages of an extended stay in another place: the lack of mutual recognition. I have passed the first test in deciding to immerse myself in another culture, perhaps a naive decision. Naive because now I have to bear the discomfort of this absence of recognition until communication is possible.
Fernando, my host brother, and I, had a slightly awkward relationship. We only spoke in Spanish, which meant that our interaction was limited. However, since he is learning and practicing English, our relationship has taken on an unspoken precedent of Spanglish. And the mutuality of this dynamic has allowed us to find more of the necessary recognition. Even though our conversation remains limited, I am able to relate to his language struggle, and he to mine. Before, we existed in a sort of Master-Slave binary, in which he knew all of the answers and I was fighting to keep up and understand.
I feel very young here, like a kid who doesn’t know why all of the adults are laughing. Do you know that boy who repeats the same clever information about trains, or Star Wars, or Video Games in an attempt to relate to the dinner party-goers at his parents’ house? That boy is me. That is the exploration necessary to destroy the cultural and historical barriers. Memorize stock phrases that you may or may not understand, use the hell out of them, and listen really closely. Open ears and open mind, I tell myself.
Six days after arriving, I, like the Quiteños, seem to be accustomed to living at high altitude. Add it to the list, stock phrase: “¡Que lindo vivir en las montañas!” and listen to the answer. Now, we all live here. Most of us take the bus. Most go to the Rio Coca bus stop, I get off earlier. Proximity leads to shared experience, leads to historical meaning, leads to the understanding that where you come from, what you value, who you love, what you have seen, may not be the same for everyone. But, most importantly, that these people are not unavailable. Engage in proximity. The world is no melting pot where we sit and wait for the flames to get hot enough to mash everything together into homogeneity. The world is a small dish filled with oil and vinegar: more delicious when you make the effort to mix it up a bit, but ultimately different.
People with different languages, different experiences and different lives are always around. Live to learn.
