My Life in Translation: “Speak English, Child!”
“Mamãe!!!! Mamãe!!!!”
Trapped between dreams and waking life, I am (just barely) aware enough to know that it is an obscenely early hour. I fumble for the small clock by the bed.
3:47 am.
The dregs just before dawn.
“Mamãe!”
By now, I know the difference between a cry for help and a cry for…”
“Eu quero biscoito”
She wants a cookie. At 3:47 am. After all, she’s two years old.
I can picture her sitting up in bed, her curls pillow-matted into a Rastafarian wig. She’s probably clutching her Princess Tiana doll and sucking her thumb.
And I feel an icy trickle of resentment as I rub my eyes.
It isn’t because I’ve been shaken awake at an unholy hour. For a cookie.
It isn’t because my husband snores serenely beside me in our bed while our daughter whines from her bedroom.
It’s the word: Mamãe. And the fact that my daughter’s default language is Portuguese.
When my daughter was born, my husband and I made a commitment to raise her in a bilingual household: Papai spoke Portuguese, and Mommy spoke English. And since we were living in Los Angeles, I was smug about the whole thing because my daughter’s fluency in English was a given. The Portuguese was just a perk. A way showing off in front of other LA mamas.
And as my daughter grew older, she seemed to understand both languages equally well, although when it came to speaking, she favored English. So, I felt I could afford to be a little charitable, and when we were out in public, I would throw around a little Portuguese for funsies: It was like our secret language, and she didn’t judge my linguistic missteps. After all, she’s two years old.
By the time we landed in Brazil four months ago, she spoke fluent gibberish. Half English, Half Portuguese, mashing her words into a language that her Papai and I could understand.
“I want to play na grama” (I want to play on the lawn.)
“Eu to vestindo o princess dress.” (I am wearing the princess dress).
But after a winter spent in Brazilian preschool, her Portuguese blossomed. And her English? Not so much.
“Keep speaking English to her!” My husband says.
And I do. But she resolutely answers in Portuguese.
And while at first, I was able to keep up, her Portuguese proficiency has surpassed me and she is using words that I don’t know.
“What does that mean,” I’ll ask her when she tosses out a word I’ve never heard. And, offering me a frightening glimpse into her teenage years, she’ll roll her eyes and sigh.
Sometimes she’ll translate. Sometimes she won’t. After all, she’s two years old.
But I want her to speak English. I want that cultural connection with my daughter forever and ever. Especially in those irrational hours before dawn. I don’t want to feel like I need to carry a pocket dictionary when talking with my daughter, or worse, ask my mother-in-law to translate.
I think of my mom and our give-and-take:
On nights when I would wake up, my mom made it look effortless: We’d sit by candlelight on the front deck, drink chamomile tea, and eat squares of dark chocolate. We would whisper ghost stories while surrounded by the powerful stillness of midnight. In English.
“Mamãe!” my daughter screams again, and I think of our neighbors. I take a deep breath, mentally steeling myself for the barefoot walk across the chilly floors.
(But I’m not Mamãe. I’m Mommy. And I want to scream at her through the dense darkness “Call me Mommy!” But I don’t. )
I wait. Praying she’ll go back to sleep. But knowing she probably won’t.
So I get out of bed. Mamãe, Mommy whatever.
And I put the kettle on for tea.
How many of us have found ourselves visiting or even living in a country where we can barely speak the language? Sure, while It’s an adventure to navigate new cultural terrain without being able to communicate the way you would ordinarily in your homeland, it is certainly not without its challenges.
Babylon wants to know how you cope when you are floundering around in a foreign language. Please share your experience with us at sarah@pravdam.com so we can post your story here as part of our new My Life in Translation series.
