Non-traditional Communication

Vivian, a Haitian teenage girl, sees me and tells me to wait where I am.  She brings a photo album to show me pictures of the boy that she has a crush on.  I give her my approval and we giggle together. She goes on to tell me about how scary the earthquake was as well.  The floor shook.  People were crying.  Some people were hurt, some died.

Not your everyday conversation when you realize that Vivian is deaf and I don't know sign language.

In the US, we are constantly talking about the importance of communication.  There are tons of articles on how to communicate with your boss, your client, your best friend, your significant other, etc.  "He's not a mind-reader.  You have to be specific."  We have to think about what we are saying and whether or not we conveyed it clearly to the other person.

I learned here how easy it is to communicate with others even when you don't speak the same language (or don't speak at all).  It is so amazing.  While in Haiti, I speak Kreyol, French, use French-sounding words (remember when you did this "confidently" in high school to trip your teacher up), and English.  There are also a lot of hand gestures involved.  And you know what?!!  The children understand me.  And since a lot of the children are not able to speak and those who can speak only speak Kreyol, I have learned to pay intimate attention to their gestures and body language to understand them.  It works!

I understand when Teddy needs help putting on his headphones so that he can listen to the radio.  I understand when Fritz wants me to sit him upright to feed him, and doesn't want me to forget to put a bib on him so that there is not a big mess.  I can gently attend to a huge insect bite that has become infected on David's arm because he is afraid that if I touch, it may hurt.  I can fetch a new shirt for Sam because he's uncomfortable with how wet the current one he is wearing has gotten from the dribbled juice.  All of these named children have cerebral palsy and none of them verbally told me what they needed in a traditional sense.  I just learned to pay attention and ask them questions to confirm that I understood them correctly. 

I scold the children in English when they aren't following directions.  They get it.

Jozye took a page full of stickers out of an activity book, even though he was specifically told not to.  I asked for them back -- in both French and English.  He hid them behind his back with a huge grin on his face as if to say, "I have no idea what you are talking about."  In English, I threatened not to go horseback-riding with him the following day or talk to him.  He gave them back so I would finish coloring with him.

I also yelled at some of the neighborhood kids today.  They were peeking over the gate -- I'm not sure if they were curious about me (the foreigner) or wanted to spy on the kids.  Either way, when one of the girls began to mimick the noises of one of my highly autistic children, I told her firmly to go away in English.  She understood and ran off.

It's not that complicated.