A la version en Español

“Desculpa, o cão estava a ladrar muito durante a noite” Vero told the neighbor yesterday, I later corrected her, you should say “esteve latindo” … well, not really, that was in Brazil, here in Portugal we should use a different word in a different form. Fortunately Samba our sheltie manages Portuguese both Brazilian and Iberian.

And that’s the story of my life in a nutshell, just when I think I’ve already learned to speak, I have to learn again! … and with a much less plastic brain than before.

It all started the summer of ‘72 at the kitchen table of the Hurd family in St. Paul, Minnesota, I had just gotten off the plane for a summer exchange. I remember that the first words I heard were “something, something, something, HUNGRY?” I knew that word!, I said YES; Then I heard “something, something, something, CORN FLAKES?” … I knew that one too, YES!; finally I heard “something, something, something, something?” … hmmm, I had already said too many YES’s, I guess I should now follow with a NO … and so that’s how it came to be that my first dinner in the USA was a dry cereal under the intrigued expression of my new American family.

After three summer exchanges I ended up with a strange blend of Mexican Norteño accent with notes of Minnesota, Kentucky and California accents; to that, add a fanatical attachment to Saturday Night Live, and I began to believe that I fully understood the English language and the Americans … Yeah, right!, that was quickly disproven when I did my MBA, but that’s another story.

In Brazil I did OK, I think I performed above the Mexican average – we believe that adding an –inho or un –ão to any word transforms it into Portuguese, my boss in São Paulo shook his head and demanded that the presentations we did could be done in any language except Portunhol, because they gave him a terrible migraine.

An unsuspected problem arose when translating from Mexican to Argentinean: Our new corporate auditor (Argentine) pissed off the Brazilian team so badly with a controversial decision, that our IT director (Mexican) said “mira cabron, te lo voy a decir en español para que me entiendas …. “ And that’s when it all blew up; the Argentine reported -erroneously and maliciously- to NY that he had been called a “mother-fucker” by the Mexican and he was deeply offended, which bounced back to me as the local CFO to apply a severe disciplinary measure.

After I stopped laughing, I had to write a memorandum that until now I consider it one of my jewels of corporate literature, I remember that it ended with something like: “even though Spanish speaking countries share a common tongue, we must always remain vigilant of local differences, and refrain from humor/strong words to avoid misunderstandings, I will make sure x learns this lesson”, neither x nor I ever learned this lesson, and I am convinced that humor, strong words, and mistakes are the core building blocks of true communication. And I must say -by the way- that an inadequate word was indeed used, the correct Castilian adjective was hijo de puta and not cabrón.

When we moved to Geneva, the potential for multi-lingual/cultural confusion increased geometrically:

• When I introduced myself to the European executive committee I offered my apologies to the team, as there was no way I could represent them before NY as well as the outgoing CFO (British) had since “Americans perceive speakers with British accents as 20% smarter than they are, while speakers with Mexican accents are perceived as 20% dumber than they are”. Our outgoing CFO responded by showing me a lonely finger and a crooked smile, while another Brit sitting next to me proclaimed with the best British humor “And I’ve made a damned good career out of that“.
• A Russian colleague was deeply offended by my comment that he “looked very Nationalist” -he was wearing a shirt with the colors of the Russian flag-, he hardly contained his fury as he clarified that he was very Patriotic indeed, not Nationalistic. The subtext that I was an imbecile for confusing those two terms remained implicit. My only excuse is that in Mexico we hardly perceive the tremendous emotional burden behind the nationalist word in Europe.
• Another French colleague and I proposed a phrase for a vision statement that included the word “collaborate” which caused consternation among the British … since in British English, the word uttered with a French accent immediately takes you to the Vichy regime, while in the rest of the world it is still a synonym of cooperating.

My misfortunes with the French language deserve a separate chapter, suffice it to say that I speak French as well as Tarzan spoke English on his first contact with Jane. Possibly because my student motivation was drastically reduced when I met Mohamed my new French teacher (adieu imaginary French teacher) and an excellent friend. Mohamed taught me the phrase “après moi, ferme la porte” after he complained – without the slightest trace of irony – of a large number of Spanish immigrants arriving at his villa.

in my little village in Nyon, Switzerland the circle was closed; I was walking towards downtown to make a copy of a key, repeating to myself “Je voudrais faire une copie de la clé” … simple right?, except that after repeating my memorized French phrase to the locksmith, he answered in Portuguese! (not uncommon on a fishing village on the edge of lac leman), … when asking for clarification he told me that he answered like that because half of what I said was in Portuguese !? … my linguistic confusion was total and absolute.

And now that I write without a business purpose, I don’t know which language to write in; I find myself thinking more clearly in English, but I feel more authentic in Spanish; and as always, the swear words come out better in Portuguese (Brazilian); and French, I reserve only for the waiters. Thus, on this essay on linguistic accidents I have splashed every word on the page as it comes to mind, clearly not to impress you with my erudition but to give you a taste of my confusion … as the Italians say traduttore, traditore; freely and un-ironically translated; the one who translates betrays.