Be Good Not Bad : Web Design :: Brian Warren : Denver, Colorado

Note: Read the full introduction from yesterday’s post. Basically, introducing Aaron Orr, a guest contributor to bw.watchtan.com. Enjoy his unique perspective and humor. Thanks,—Brian.

“Mah sa’lam,” (goodbye) the man in the white dishdasha (deesh-dahsha) said to me as he exited the dirty, white four-door Nissan pickup I drove.

“Shook-rahn,” I replied and immediately thought, “Dang! What I meant to say was … uh … was, ‘fee im allah,’ (go with god), not ‘Thank you.’” But he was already gone and I was pulling away from the dirt shoulder of the road.

It’s strange … language and the mind. I’ll be minding my own business, taking a shower, when suddenly, from some dark recess of my brain will come, “Masaw hanoor,” (the reply to the Arabic for good afternoon). This or some other phrase, that does me as much good right then as a piece of steel wool, will pop out of a dusty corner. Why can’t I remember this when I’m walking through the gate manned by the Iraqi National Guard troops on my way to the chow hall? Sometimes intentionally searching for a word or phrase in another language is like trying to read through a jar of honey.

Yesterday, by mere chance, I ended up playing ball, and then hacky sack, with two ING soldiers. It was like mimes on drugs.
“Where from?” they asked me. “Ana Amreeki,” I said. (I American—it was the best I could do.)

Each of us, personally and culturally, has a totally separate set of gesticulations we use to communicate things. (E.G. In the military, a fist held up in a “power to the people” kind of position means “stop.” Making this sign to an Arab driving a vehicle may very well get you run over because it means nothing to him. Holding your fingers and thumb together like Dr. Evil telling Scotty to, “Zip it!” will make them stop.)

It must have been incredibly frustrating, yet totally hilarious, that day at the Tower of Babel (which was not all that far from here).

Despite how many words my new friends used, accompanied by myriad foreign-to-me gestures, it took five minutes of playing their ball game before I really figured out what the heck I was trying to do.

It goes both ways, though.

I pulled through the gate outside my barracks recently, popped off a, “Salam,” (a generalized hello, literally meaning “peace”) to the troop on duty and, in return, received a thickly accented, “Okay, goodbye,” accompanied by a big grin.