The “Right” Answer
As
medical interpreters, we often serve as bridges, not just between
languages, but between cultures. One experience in particular
demonstrated this to me in a way that I will never forget.
I
was interpreting during a speech therapy session. The patient was an
elderly Spanish-speaking female stroke victim, most likely in her late
70’s or 80’s. Like many stroke victims, she had to put forth her utmost
concentration and make a tremendous effort to pronounce each word. Her
speech was slow, and many letters were difficult for her to say, but
she was clearly committed to doing the very best she could. In spite of
the obvious strain, her voice projected a sense of pride in what she
was able to accomplish. Her determined attitude was admirable.
One
speech exercise required the patient to answer basic questions about
different job functions in society. For example, the therapist would
ask, “Who drives the bus?” The patient knowingly replied, “The bus
driver.” When asked, “Who brings you the food in a restaurant?” The
patient proudly responded with the correct answer, “The waiter.” Each
time, the therapist would respond with encouraging words, and the
patient seemed increasingly confident in her abilities to produce the
right answers, albeit with slow and painstaking attention to each
syllable.
However,
the patient’s steady pattern of providing the correct answers came to a
halt when she was asked, "Who do you borrow a cup of sugar from?" Those
of us familiar with mainstream US culture know that the answer the
therapist expected to hear was, “the neighbor”, but this concept was a
source of utter confusion for the patient. Instead of answering the
question with the typical one-word answer, she patiently put together a
question of her own. With long pauses between each word, she asked,
“Why--would--I--want--to--borrow--a--cup--of—sugar…?” There was a hint
of frustration in her voice. Her steady string of correct answers had
suddenly come to a halt.
After
interpreting the patient’s response, I explained to the provider that,
in many cultures, the typical diet might not include recipes that call
for a cup of sugar, and that this unit of measure may not be customary
either. I also explained that the standard definition of “neighbor” in
many cultures might not be likely to include the borrowing of grocery
staples.
The
therapist said, “Fine, we’ll just skip that question and move on.”
After I interpreted this explanation to the patient, the exercise
continued as before. Only now, even though she was able to provide the
right answers to all of the questions being asked, it seemed to me that
she was frustrated or nervous. The excitement and confidence she had
experienced by being a “good student” had suddenly diminished slightly.
With each question asked by the therapist, I silently hoped for
concepts that would be culturally relevant, to facilitate the
communication process.
We
asked several questions to which the patient provided the expected
answers. Then, the therapist asked a seemingly simple and
straightforward question, "Who grows the food?" The correct answer,
according to U.S. culture, would be, “the farmer”. I interpreted this
sentence slowly and clearly, taking special care to choose the verb
equivalent for “grow” that would be most closely associated with crops
and farming, to eliminate confusion. The patient seemed confident that
she knew the right answer to this question. Without skipping a beat,
she said, in a somewhat louder voice, “The mother.”
I
interpreted her answer into English, prepared to follow the
interpretation by explaining to the provider that, in some places,
large-scale farming might be less common, and that it might be more
common for families to plant their own supply of food in a garden,
usually tended to by the mother of the household. I wanted the provider
to understand that the patient’s answer was correct, at least, within a
different cultural framework.
But
before I even had a chance to finish the explanation, the therapist
interrupted and rephrased the question, “Who grows the food for a lot
of people?” I felt a sense of apprehension, mixed with hope that
perhaps these additional words might help the patient come up with the
“right” answer to this question.
She
seemed to think that this was an easy question. More confidently than
ever, the patient immediately answered, “God.” Just as swiftly, I
rendered her answer in English.
All
three of us just sat there in silence for a few moments, although it
seemed like an eternity. The provider seemed to be processing this
response and trying to figure out how to proceed. The patient just
stayed silent, waiting for the next question. With no words to
interpret from either party, I too stayed quiet.
Finally,
the provider thanked the patient, told her she had done a good job in
the session, and that she looked forward to seeing her the following
week.
I
will never know how this experience might have impacted the therapist,
or what she was thinking during those drawn-out moments of silence. It
may be that she continued to use the same questions with every patient,
without regard for cultural differences. Or, it may be that this moment
served to enlighten her, prompting her to begin a campaign to develop
more culturally relevant materials for speech therapists everywhere. I
will never know.
But
I do believe I know how it impacted the patient. She walked out of the
office that day with a firm belief that she was making progress, and
that she had ended the session by conquering the final question with
what she believed to be the only logical and appropriate answer.
After all, according to her view of the world, it most definitely was the "right" answer.
(c) 2007 Nataly Kelly. All Rights Reserved.
Nataly
Kelly is currently collecting anecdotes and stories about interpreting
for publication in the book, "From Our Lips to Your Ears: How
Interpreters Are Changing the World." To learn more, please visit the
project website, www.fromourlips.com.
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