Sign Language 15.04.10

Touring in Asia is much more challenging than Europe I think. Probably the most significant factor is language. I’ve said previously that tone-based languages are very tough for me. The alphabet is different in every country and I can only usually understand a few character sounds. Different too are the expressions and nuance of body language. There are facial and body signs that I am certain I am misinterpreting (or waitresses are particularly stony here). Some cultures here use ‘face’ to create visual red-herrings. So trying to get enhanced understanding by watching for signs is problematic.

One activity we have tried to engage in is watching live performance. Folk Dance and Classical Dance are popular here – especially in Cambodia and Thailand. During Songkram celebrations – the Thai New Year – we watched an elaborate and complicated staging of the Ramayana Epic (We think it was that anyway). Many gilt and glitter-encrusted actors appeared stage left, sang, wooed or duelled and then departed stage right. Lacking language and any meaningful understanding of the saga we were left without context, swimming in a spectacle of, what seemed to us, highly repetitious action and stage-craft. As soon as one cluster of lover/sibling/parent/enemy/wrathful God Creature left the stage another would appear from the left. After an hour or so of watching the theatrical equivalent of a Flintstone interior with Fred chasing Barney around (lamp, door, window, lamp, door, window etc.) we retired, not much the wiser but enriched somewhat. Later, in Siem Reap we attended an Apsara performance. Apsaras are those angelic dancing figures that are to be found everywhere on Khmer structures in ancient Angkor. They employ very formalized hand, arm, neck, head, foot and leg (torso?) to narrate and express the content of their dances. Most dances are apparently expressions of thanks, praise, courtship and fealty. To our eyes it is beautiful and evokes thoughts of ancient times and circumstance. We can enjoy the artistry and elegance but it lacks much emotionality because we have no comprehension of the significance or the meaning of the gestures which to the Cambodians have such profound resonance and familiarity.

These thoughts crystallized as I was visiting a silk manufacturer in Siem Reap. I entered a quiet workspace where young adults were engaged in various phases of hand-painting on silk. They seemed to be working with deliberation and focus. Then I saw two of the artisans sign to each other. I looked up and there was a Thai chart for sign language correlating hand gestures with alphabetical characters. I realized suddenly that conversations were in fact happening all around and this was a training center for deaf artists. Lacking the skill or language I was unable to participate or comprehend the conversation but ‘words’ were silently flying all around me.

We blunder through the world using sound as our primary medium of communication. Yet there is much more abundant information available to us in subtle conscious and unconscious forms. The vocabulary of facial and gestural nuance is often cultural though there are many universal expressions. I remember reading that a New Guinea aboriginal people perceived a forced smile as a sign of aggression. So they summarily killed all the first Westerners who showed up. Higher primates flex their eyebrows when they meet another ape they recognize. I often smile when I catch myself arching my eyebrows when I encounter someone familiar – that is hardwiring my friend! We raise our hand in greeting – historically, we are told, we did this to show we carried no weapon. Scratch the surface.

But anger, frustration, insult, nervousness might be expressed differently in the countries we are visiting. There are enough ambiguities and mismatches that it generates a wariness when engaging the local people. What is lost, mangled and perverted by our mutual inabilities to communicate fluidly with each other? What fantastic things might be gained if we could break Babel and truly connect?

The one thing I am certain of: when two strangers meet - regardless of age, gender, culture, nationality or religion – a sincere smile, with crinkled eyes and a gentle opening of spirit, sent across space means ‘I see you, namaste’. And that means everything.