Grotch

They called me Grotch. That’s okay, because I struggled to pronounce their names: Faiso, Hawo, Fatuma, Farhiya, Yurub, Zamzam…

Six years ago, I’d never heard of the country they had fled—Somalia—and I was nervous around these East African women who wore hijabs and long flowing robes.

 I offered to teach English and help the refugees study for the citizenship test. They wanted to become United States citizens. In return, I was invited into their lives, and our unusual friendship centered on words.

During our lessons, these hospitable ladies served me chai tea made with ground spices, and we laughed as we struggled with words. When Fadumo called her kitchen a chicken, I squawked and flapped my arms until she understood a chicken isn’t a kitchen. Another time a Somali wanted a chop, meaning a job. We often repeated words and reworded sentences, but could not understand each other. 

Dr. Alber Mehrabian was a pioneer researcher in communication in the 1950’s. He was the author of Silent Messages, and he concluded that 38 percent of a message is conveyed through the vocal elements and 55 percent through body language, which leaves only 7 percent of a message is communicated by words.

When words failed, the Somalis and I resorted to Merabian’s theory. We communicated through facial expressions, sounds, and physical gestures. And as we laughed at each other’s crazy charades, our hearts grew close. I wept when Faiso called me—her white-skinned American teacher—her sister.

As writers, our only tools are words. We strive to show and not tell stories so the pages dissolve and readers experience our written words. We want our characters to bring readers into their worlds, no matter how different. We strive to write in deep point-of-view.

Communication takes practice. Writing takes more. Are editing and rewriting and final tweaking  worth it? Yes.

 It took months before I heard a Somali pronounce my name: Gretchen.

And I smiled. All day long.