Language & Literacy Narrative

For my Language and Literacy Narrative, I wrote about a specific moment/event that shaped a part of who I am today. In my narrative, I talk about my aunt, who speaks “broken” English and my cousin and I had to help her in translating because she had a hard time communicating with others.

Her Broken English

            When I was young, I always asked myself, “Why do my parents speak like that when they speak English?” or in this case, “Why does my tía speak like that?”. My aunt has been taking care of me for as long as I can remember, it’s as if she is my second mother. I know that English is not her native language and it shows whenever she tries to communicate to someone who speaks Standard English. I remember many places that we have gone such as restaurants, medical centers, and other English-speaking environments where either my cousin or I, had to be translating to her what they were saying. Specifically, I recall the first time that I witnessed what it was like when my aunt spoke her broken English.

We were just there, waiting to be helped. I looked at the clock, and it was only 2 o’clock in the afternoon. I already wanted to head home. People were rushing in and out, and the workers kept talking and talking to other individuals that they were attending. There we were, my 11-year-old cousin, eating her Blow Pop lollipop, my aunt, who was tired of all the waiting, and then there was me, a 9-year-old looking to see what I can get entertained with. In a setting of a Community Medicaid Office, there wasn’t much I could do. It felt like an eternity until someone finally called on us. Once we approached the booth, my cousin had warned me to pay attention to what they were going to say, even if I was confused as to why.

            The lady, dressed in a white blouse and black blazer, asked, “So what can I help you with ma’am?” in a disinterested voice, not looking up from her computer. In her broken English my aunt responded, “Me,” she pointed to herself, “Me, health insurance.” The lady looked back at us confused. She then said, “I’m sorry, I am confused.” At that moment, I was confused myself. My aunt told us to translate for her that she wanted to see if she was able to get health insurance services. Then, there we were, two kids speaking in understandable English in order to receive the right service that we needed. After we explained to her, she said “Okay, please take a seat, someone will be with you shortly”, sending us back to those chairs.  

            As we walk past an aisle to have a seat, I ask my cousin in a confused expression, “What happened back there?”. She explained to me “My mom is not very good at her English, so that means we are the ones that have to do the speaking for her,” she continued, “even if it makes us or her look bad”. I then looked at my aunt, feeling guilt. I felt like I wanted to help her out, but I didn’t even know how or where to even start. Once we reached those uncomfortable chairs, I just sat down and crossed my legs, still having the urge to go home. It seemed so awkward having to translate back and forth, and at the same time trying to understand the issue that was being talked about.

            When the next representative was available to attend to us, he seemed nice and had no problem with the back and forth translation whatsoever. There was something with his voice, however, that seemed wrong. In a deep, low voice he was explaining the process which made me so sleepy that I couldn’t concentrate. I turn over to my cousin and with some gestures, we figure out that we cannot translate everything he was saying, so we just say the small things that we remember him saying. My aunt doubted that we were paying attention to what the representative was telling us, so in Spanish she asked, “Are you guys sure you know what he is saying?” We nod our heads, and she continued “It looks like he is explaining a lot in order for you two be telling me so little.” We both look at each other and we clarify that we are translating almost every word that he was saying. The rest of the talk we were sitting and doing what we should’ve been from the start, listening. My cousin and I noticed that it wasn’t fair for her to not understand English, the least we could do is to help her at least in a language she can understand.

On the ride home, we were all relieved that it was over. On the train, I thought about how I had no idea how much the English language was hard to understand especially to those who speak a native or even other various languages. Over the years, I have been asked by so many people who speak Spanish to help them to translate and understand what the other person was saying. At the end, when they would say “Gracias”, I felt proud to be bilingual which identifies me who I am as a person. Although, I mostly speak English on a daily basis, Spanish is a language that has grown within me thanks to my parents and my family members.

After all these years that I have been spending time with my family members that speak broken English, I actually started to think that it was the only language that they are able to communicate. Speaking or even writing in Standard English has had a negative impact on those who speak their native language. Most of the issues in this country happen because the priority see us as the ones who just “don’t belong”. There are many more people that are like my tía that have been or are going through this type of situation where it’s hard for them to communicate to those that are so called “normal”, that shouldn’t be treated as inferior to others.