Marathi shikane mala garajeche ahe, karana mala Jamkhed madhye maza anu bhavayeche ahe

Learning the language has been invaluable to my enjoyment in Jamkhed. From the start I was dedicated to learning Marathi. Being able to speak Spanish in the U.S. has opened up doors and allowed me to enter a part of America (both North and South) that would otherwise be invisible, especially in the Bronx where over 50% of residents are Latino. Learning a language is more than just acquiring an ability to speak but rather language explains community and tradition that translation cannot convey. How villagers communicate and what words they use to describe situations say a great deal about the values held by that person and in that community.

The first two months in Jamkhed were often spent in the library with Sunil, the fluent-in-English librarian and friend who agreed to teach me Marathi. We went lesson by lesson through a Learning Marathi book, learning vocab and verb tenses to create necessary sentences. At times we sidetracked to the necessary yet inappropriate sentences that for some reason I never had trouble remembering, while “the house is made of wood” never could stick in my mind. My vocabulary grew quickly yet my ability to speak with people and use that vocab in conversation moved unnervingly slow despite my efforts.

Initially I was embarrassed to speak. I thought I had previously overcome embarrassment from speaking Spanish and attempting Chinese. However, struggling through a simple sentence as “I slept well last night” for two minutes with a village health worker staring at you wide-eyed (or at times with a smile she is trying hard to keep down) is difficult. Men, however, were not afraid to laugh and I often felt more relieved with them laughing than with the patience of the VHWs trying to understand me. The embarrassment gradually subsided but my conversation grew equally slow as my vocab continued to improve.

Learning a language seems to be a lesson in overcoming humps. Upon beginning the hypertension and alcohol study in Indiranagar (the slum area across the street from CRHP), I initially went with a social worker named Ratna who translated when I did not understand. Two weeks after beginning the study, however, she could no longer go and I was forced to survey the village with Lalanbai and Asha, two VHWs who spoke zero English. The changeover was the best thing that happened to me. It forced me to speak and get over the fear of speaking not only fluidly but confidently, as the study depended on it. After two weeks of being alone, my Marathi had improved five-fold and I had hurdled the hump. The biggest change has been not in my ability to speak but rather understand. Previously, the accent and quick-speaking scared the hell out of me despite the fact that I knew the vocab. But through continuous conversation their sentences seemed to move slower, not out of their mouths but rather in my mind.

Among the many things Marathi has allowed me to learn, there are a few that stand out in particular. One is the aggressiveness with which Indians speak to each other. There is little politeness in conversations, as questions are screamed at the men and answers are yelled back. Without understanding what is being said, every conversation seems to be an argument when really they may be talking about the effects of high blood pressure. There is also little use of thank you, please, excuse me or I’m sorry in the language. In fact, I have never heard anyone say please in a sentence since I have arrived and an American friend has been told that she should not say thank you so often because “it makes you look weird when no one else says it.”

Another benefit has been the ability to ask follow-up questions. While measuring BPs we have often found ourselves on the floor of straw huts with no electricity and no gas stove. Through conversation initiated from study questions, the lives of the local villagers are elaborated and better understood. One family in particular showed photos of them standing in front of their plastic-covered straw house (plastic from road advertisements to deter rain in the monsoon season), yet they, and their house, were knee-deep in water. They had no where else to sleep, though… “but that is when good work comes,” the father said frankly. Their three daily meals presently consist of Indian flat bread made from sorghum (glutton-free wheat) and chutney, and two meals per week of goat meat.

I am far (very very far) from fluent and often can not hold difficult conversation, but simply being able to continuously speak has not only opened up my world but has shown respect to a community where I am living for one year. Hindi, while perhaps more useful to learn, is not the local language and it does make a large difference to the community whether I choose to speak Hindi or Marathi.

One of my favorite occurrences during the study is when the family I am visiting lays out a floor mat to sit on and I take three minutes to introduce the study, explain its purpose, let them know that I will take their BP first and then ask questions, that their answers are confidential, and that a follow-up will be conducted. After the three minutes, as I unfold the BP cuff to measure, the patient will continue to stare at me and ask “Tumhee Marathi bolata ka?” – “You speak Marathi?” – not because they didn’t understand but rather they couldn’t figure out if I was really speaking Marathi. I have recently begun all conversations with “Me tora Marathi bolato” – “I speak a little Marathi” – yet afterwards and after explaining the study for three minutes, their puzzled face still asks “Tumhee Marathi bolata ka?”… at which point Asha steps in to explain the study.