A Spanish Lesson

Before we moved to Mexico, Laurel and I had been enrolled in an advanced level Spanish class in Vermont, so we naturally assumed fluency would be a small additional step once we were surrounded by Spanish-speaking neighbors. Now that we've lived here two and a half years, that ultimate goal of fluency seems farther away than ever. The more we learn, the more we realize we don't know.

There's an expression people use here that caught my fancy. It is used whenever someone is explaining their failure to remember something. For the last couple years I have misheard it as semi olvidé, which I understood to mean "I halfway forgot." I liked the way it seemed to minimize personal responsibility, with the implicit claim that one's memory was only partly defective. It especially appealed to me when the speaker included the adverb completamente, as in "I halfway forgot completely."

I was joking about this expression the other day with our neighbor Chayo, who patiently explained that I had it all wrong. I tried weakly arguing for my version, holding out for the prefix semi. Chayo admitted the prefix has a use; she sells 2% milk in her store that is semidescremada, or "halfway uncreamed." But she wouldn't budge on the phrase in question. And who am I to argue with an expert in the Spanish language?

It turns out there is no halfway about it. The expression I had misunderstood for so long is really se me olvidó, which means "it forgot itself to me." Now that I'm getting used to saying it correctly, I've decided I like it even better than my other version. Before I was halfway responsible for forgetting something, but now, when something forgets itself to me, I am completamente innocent.

I Really Should Stay Awake at EcoSol Meetings

For about a year now we've been meeting with an organization called EcoSol, which is an acronym for Económica Solidaridad. Sponsored by the Catholic diocese, this group promotes economic solidarity by providing technical and moral support for projects that its members want to carry out. At our local level, there are usually no more than about ten to twenty participants, and it has been lovely to be part of this close-knit community. The main work we have done together is to build eight greenhouses in the last several months (including one at our house, shown in the photo on the day it was blessed back in December). In spite of being the only non-Catholics in the group, we have felt very welcome and included.

The other day EcoSol met to build another greenhouse, and after lunch (we always eat well) there was some group business to discuss. The combination of a warm afternoon, a full stomach, and Spanish conversation flowing too fast for me to comprehend all conspired to lull me into, well, if not an actual nap, then perhaps extreme drowsiness. However, I snapped back into wakefulness when I heard the priest Padre Salvador mention our names "Esteban y Laurel." With us struggling to understand even the gist of the topic under discussion and everyone else struggling to explain (all at the same time), Laurel and I finally figured out that they were trying to create a new volunteer position of group coordinator, and they planned on us being the ones to fill it. When our simple shaking of heads and wagging of forefingers (the classic Mexican gesture for NO) proved ineffectual, we tried to explain that the very fact we didn't understand what they were talking about should be reason enough to disqualify us. They weren't buying it. Finally, we thought of another reason that it didn't make sense for us to lead. We explained that we believe the history of racism and imperialism between the United States and Mexico means it makes more sense for us to back the leadership of Mexicans instead of us slipping into a pattern of taking charge. Although they assured us of our equality within the group, I think they could hear our argument as valid. We promised we would continue to wholeheartedly support the group from within the ranks and without a title.