K'iche'

Since I’ve gotten to my site, one of the largest barriers to integrating has been that everyone, when given the choice, will speak in K’iche’ (roughly pronounce “kee-chay“), their maternal language, rather than Spanish, a language mostly learned secondly in school. This has also impeded the improvement of my Spanish because I’m not being constantly immersed in it. At the schools, everyone speaks Spanish, but otherwise, in the streets, in the house, in the market, what I’m hearing is K’iche’. I spent most of my dinners eating in silence while the family jabbers away in K‘iche‘…. although sometimes the young dad will engage me in a conversation in English… which is nice, but also doesn’t help my Spanish.

I love being in an Indigenous Mayan community, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. But it has been frustrating when I feel like my Spanish is just creeping along, rather than this explosion of fluency I expected. And it’s also frustrating when everyone is communicating around me and I can’t take part.

For a long time I’ve thought about finding a K’iche’ teacher, and the Peace Corps will pay for lessons. But I maybe didn’t quite prioritize it since undertaking an entirely new and difficult foreign language when I am still constantly grappling with Spanish, a language I’ve studied since high school, was not exactly a welcoming prospect. Regardless, one Sunday, the Peace Corps Mayan language coordinator called and asked if it would be okay if he came to my site on Monday, the next day, to find me a K’iche’ teacher. I was a little annoyed because I didn’t like the thought of this stranger going around my community and asking for something for the gringa-- I wanted to find my own K’iche’ teacher. But I can’t complain because the job got done. By 3:30 on Monday, I was sitting down with one of the K’iche’ teachers at the institute (my institute is one of the rare bilingual ones), making plans for when we would have classes.

I was a little hesitant because I didn't know this guy well and I was nervous about making a complete fool of myself and failing miserably at learning K’iche’. But all my fears were put to rest after the first lesson. My teacher turned out to be very professional, patient, and encouraging. Probably the biggest surprise was the enthusiasm I felt myself. I forgot how delicious it can be to discover a new language, since it was many many years ago that I was starting out with Spanish. There is a certain thrill in finding a completely new way to express the world around you.

K’iche’ is a challenging language, mostly for the pronunciation. The very prominant letter q’ is a sort of clicking sound from very deep in the throat (and k‘ is another clicking sound from less deep in the throat), which means that my K’iche’ teacher and I have spent a good part of our classes sounding like cats that have a furball stuck in their throat as he tries to teach me to make this sound. I feel that this sound simply doesn’t exist in my throat, and I should just give up on it. But my teacher insists its there, so I keep on sputtering and gagging, hoping to find it eventually.

This past Wednesday for the first time I really had to put my new K’iche’ skills to the test. It was market day, the day I always go to buy my fruits and vegetables and basic foods. My teacher thought we should take advantage of this to practice my K’iche’, so after a quick practice of asking how much and translating my grocery list, we left. I don’t think I was ready for this activity since we barely practiced ahead of time, and I was nervous and flustered suddenly trying out a new language with the people at the stands I go to each week, with my teacher at my side, and I made many mistakes, even on things I knew. But I must say they were pretty pleased, or at least entertained, at my effort. I don’t expect to get even a stone’s throw from fluent, but at the very least it will be nice to be able to have some of the very basic conversations that make up much of daily life here with the people in their maternal language (about the weather, about where I’m from, and, everyone’s favorite, about finding me a Guatemalan husband). Already I’ve been able to pick out a rare word from the dinner conversation, like a familiar face in a sea of strangers, and maybe someday, I’ll be taking part myself.