Years ago, I got this groovy campsite at a popular campground in Rogue Valley, Ore. I had a head start, leaving work early on Friday, riding my 550 cc bike and capturing the biggest, best spot at the first-come-first-serve state park. Just me, my pup tent and a good book, wide open on this site. Shortly after I set up, and long before dusk, the campground was full.
Drivers would cruise by slowly, only to find, to their chagrin, no space was available. Some of those drivers who noticed my wide-open spot tried to talk to me. I indicated to them that I am deaf, pointing to my ear and shaking my head, “No hear.”
They left. They didn’t even try to figure out an alternative way to talk with a deaf person. They chose to drive much farther elsewhere, with a slight chance to find a space at this hour.
Then there came three Hispanic youths who stopped by and talked to me. I pointed to my ear and acted, “Sorry but what did you say?”
One of them pointed to other half of my spot and gestured in a most simple way, “We camp there, we pay you?”
Their effort to communicate warmed me up, and I gesticulated back to them, “No need to pay.” Shaking my forefinger, “come,” extending a welcome gesture. Those guys grinned and got out of their pickup. They understood me right away. They were different from the majority of Americans who don’t normally open their eyes to “hear,” or to express thoughts with their hands.
While they pitched their tent, I wrote something on paper and showed it to one of the guys. He looked at it and shook his head in apology, replying in gestures: “We cannot read English, but we can talk in English” (expressing “talk” with hands moving like a mouth opening and closing).
I was stumped at that moment since my speech was not good enough to carry conversation. I wondered how on earth we would communicate. They didn’t know English or American Sign Language and I didn’t know Spanish. Was that a communication barrier?
But, much to the contrary, these guys and I continued to chat, mostly in gestures. We laughed together. During this ensuing conversation, they cooked the greasiest meal on the Coleman stove while I, trying to be a vegetarian, had a salad. But then they offered me a large share of hot food as a token of appreciation for my hospitality; it would be an insult if I had refused their offer, and so I said to myself, “Oh heck!” And I accepted it.
We built a strong cross-cultural bridge. I asked, “You married?” and showed a pretend ring on a finger. Each of them replied “No.” They learned some signs from me and I learned some Spanish words from them. We chatted, dined and laughed all night long. By the next morning, a great friendship had been cultivated as we had come to know each other quite well.
!No problemo! Foreigners seem to have a natural way to shift from one gear to another until they find a way to communicate. They take time and make efforts to communicate, unlike some Americans I happen to encounter.
Our good Lord has given us one mouth to talk and two ears to listen twice as much! We’ve got to open our minds to communicate efficiently. Being deaf all of my life, I’ve come to believe that there is no such thing as a communication barrier, just an attitude barrier. These Hispanic guys had the right attitude and with them I hardly felt disabled in this world of sound.
Oh, I miss my three amigos from the Rogue Valley!
Everybody has a Story welcomes nonfiction contributions, 1,000 words maximum, and relevant photographs. Email is the best way to send materials so we don’t have to retype your words or borrow original photos. Send to: neighbors@columbian.com or P.O. Box 180, Vancouver WA, 98666. Call Scott Hewitt, 360-735-4525, with questions.
