Unspoken rules--2/19/07

I finally had a real conversation with Socorro’s godson, Mikhel, today. It’s weird, there seems to be an unstated rule that neither Rosita nor Mikhel can sit with us at the table during meals, but when no one else but me is around, they both are allowed to sit down. I’m relieved that that is the case. Mikhel also speaks Quechua, and is also studying in a vocational school—again, tourism, which seems to be the most lucrative occupation around here. (Another interesting thing that I forgot to mention—Rosita told me that she is actually writing her thesis collaboratively with a friend, because it is cheaper than to write a thesis by herself. Hmm.) The first time I saw Mikhel he only said one thing to me, which was to ask me how to say “muy borracho” (very drunk) in English. Today I asked him why he had wanted to know, and he claimed that it was only to make fun of Rosita, that he really only drinks milk. He and Rosita seem to be pretty good friends—on Saturday, as part of the ongoing Carnaval celebration, Rosita dumped an entire bucket of water from the balcony onto Mikhel, who was on the patio. I got a big kick out of seeing that because it seems like it’s most often boys who participate in Carnaval “games,” throwing water balloons and spraying foam at girls in the street. I’ve somehow managed to keep pretty dry most days, except for Sunday, the official “day” of Carnaval, when I was completely soaked from the neck down with a bucket of water that was thrown on me, only to be nailed on back of the head with a water balloon ten seconds later. And there is still another week to go of Carnaval festivities. Tomorrow I'm buying some goddamn balloons.

Anyway, Mikhel and Rosita both helped me with a paragraph in Quechua I was trying to write, and I taught them a couple English words. It felt good to break that barrier. It still blows my mind though, the unspoken rules in the household—I left the room for a few minutes to go to the bathroom, and when I came back, Socorro’s brother was sitting at the table, and Mikhel was, again, standing up and drinking his coffee. I still haven’t quite figured out where I fit into the family, but in a way it’s kind of nice being in between.

Another funny thing—from the few times Rosita has asked me about what a specific English word means, I have begun to realize just how important context is in a language. The first weird one was “pipe.” After I explained to her that a pipe was something you use to smoke, she pointed to the label on the refrigerator, and I realized that it was referring to a cooling pipe. Then today she was reading a magazine and asked me what a “loop” was. That was a hard one, but I think I did a pretty good job of demonstrating with a phone cord and a belt loop. Only to discover that the “loop” she was referring to was not a physical loop but a repeating musical phrase. Man. Language. What a trip.