Translation Frustration

(from Wednesday)

I wrote earlier about how my photography is really only a means to an end, and that end is hearing people’s stories, learning about the world around me. It’s for that reason that this week has been filled with great frustration. I’ve been in this new country for less than a week. I’m excited to learn all that I can. And I feel stymied by my assistant’s lack of translation services. A few days ago, I sat down with him to share my concerns. He’s a very nice guy, and said that he’d be happy to put more energy into translating, but I think that he’s just not cut out for it. Not because he doesn’t have the English skills—he absolutely does—but because he seems sometimes so self-absorbed that he can’t take his own love for conversation out of the equation. I’ll ask a very simple question to someone I’m photographing, like “how long have you lived in this community”, and then I’ll wait a full five minutes to get a three word answer from him as they seemingly talk about everything but what I’ve asked. I’ve told him that I need translation every 15-30 seconds, and that if he’s going to add a question, he should translate that for me so that I know what he’s asking, yet it just doesn’t seem to be getting through, as I often have to interrupt him to say “translation please!” Car rides and meals have been especially isolating as I’ll be seated with 2-3 other people and not more than a few words will be shared with me, even though I’ve posed some questions to the others with me. Tedi will give me a quick answer and then ask a follow up question in Bahasa Indonesia, leave me in the dust, and this can go on literally for hours. English is quite a rarity here, so I’m really dependent on him for this entire week, and I feel like I’m missing out on so much interesting learning. On one or two occasions, someone else has translated a few conversations and my experience has just been so much richer, even if their English was not nearly as good as Tedi’s. On some levels, the saving grace of the week so far has been that I’ve gotten sick with the flu and have slept through several meals and for much of the long car rides. Otherwise, I really might have bitten his head off—and I still might—for feeling so cheated. I’m not sure if I hope that he’ll never have to feel what I’ve felt with him this week, or if I absolutely want him to feel what I’ve felt so that he knows to never repeat such treatment.