Lost in Translation

Before arriving in China, the reality of experiencing a significant language difficulty never entered my mind. I truly believed everyone spoke English - if not fluently - enough for the essentials to be understood. Previously I’d worked in a zoo in Malaysia and had experienced no communication difficulties at all. Of course, this was because an English charity had set up my placement in the zoo and an English speaker looked after me. But, taxi drivers in Kuala Lumpur could communicate tolerably well in English, and the vast Shopping Malls were a doddle. The only slight disaster I almost had was when I accepted an invitation to go into Grandma Tiger’s cage with the zoo’s Big Cat Keeper. The Keeper’s English was the poorest I’d come across in Malaysia. He and I stepped into Grandma Tiger’s cage, and the two of us seemed surprised when she licked her lips with anticipation, and her eyes began glinting menacingly. Despite being badly impeded by arthritis, the tiger still managed to make a fairly credible lunge at me. At that point, the Keeper, who said he couldn’t speak English, began screaming, “Run, Run”. Without the Keeper's quick action at getting me out of the cage, it was doubtful there would have been much left of Grandma Tiger’s English visitor. So clearly, here was proof that saying you could not speak English was untrue. If a tiger is about to eat your cage companion, the right English words to assist the tricky situation will be easily found! All English-speaking people know this. 

I went to Costa Rica to work at a Sloth Rescue Centre down south. I idly wondered if I would have time to learn a few Spanish words before arriving in Costa Rica.  An American friend laughed and said, ‘What for! They all speak English. Well, they certainly could in The Marriott I stayed in’. This seemed quite reasonable to me.  The owner of the Sloth Centre could speak English (he was American), but all the local staff essential to the sloths’ well-being couldn’t say one word of English. The owner had two American sons, and I hung out with them, especially if we left the Rescue Centre. When my stint in Costa Rica was finished, I had made great friends with the sloths but had failed to learn one word of Spanish.  

So when the time came to set off for Nanchang in mid-China, it never occurred to me that I was about to enter a country that really couldn’t communicate in English - and worse, didn’t have any desire at all to speak in English. My work contract helpfully told me I was required to speak English. Thank goodness. This was the only language I spoke. 

My sister felt I would need a little help and had managed to buy me a hand-held translator from a TV shopping channel. Trying to manipulate the translator was 100% worse than learning Chinese.  The translator was the size of a small modern cell phone and had a ‘wheel’ mouse to allow me to find the limited database of phrases or words stored on the translator. I quickly discovered that not only was I severely linguistically challenged but also a Luddite and totally failed to get the translator to function. No matter how much I tried, I could never manoeuvre the wheel, which seemed to be permanently stuck on ‘ni hao’ - but frankly, saying ‘hello’ will only get you so far. I soon gave up trying to learn how to use the translator and imagined Chinese taxi drivers would be the same as Malaysian taxi drivers and be almost fluent in English! In reality, the Chinese taxi drivers couldn’t speak to each other due to the many different dialects.

When I got to Nanchang, within days, it became apparent that no one could speak English which meant I couldn’t even buy an egg! The solution was to find a friend quickly. There were 12 foreign teachers on the university campus. Half were fluent English speakers (American, Irish, and Australian), but the rest, Asian or European, claimed poor English skills. Lily, a Filipino and Sasha, a Ukrainian, chose to become my best friends. Sasha’s English initially was not that good, and he complained that UK English was complicated. Although employed as an English teacher at the University, Lily failed to understand English-speaking movies without subtitles. So clearly, long detailed British conversations were initially beyond her. My crisp English accent confused all my English Major students. They expected all English speakers to have strong American accents, just like in the movies. Most of my students eventually told me they were almost at the point of reporting me to the University as I clearly couldn’t speak English! 

In 2008 mobile phones were incredibly limited in functionality and didn’t have cameras or internet coverage. I’d bought a Chinese phone, but as the huge University campus (my home and workplace) predominantly only had Chinese-speaking individuals, I rarely carried my phone around. If anyone had rung, I couldn’t have understood them!  

I lived in a vast city where no one was likely to speak English, so leaving the campus, Lily and Sasha’s presence was essential to me. I would carry very little cash and not bother with a phone but always had the translator permanently jammed on ‘Ni Hao’ like a comfort blanket. 

One weekend Lily suggested that we three go to the city (roughly a 30-minute bus ride) and go ‘shopping’. Shopping meant the newly opened Walmart store that sold very little for the discerning Western foreigner. The bras sizes were a maximum of 32 AAA, and my measurements required a 36C cup for underwear, dresses, T-shirts, and tops. None of these items in my size was on offer. To get a new item of clothing, you had to go to a ‘tailor’ and get it made. The best thing Walmart sold was Nescafe Instant Coffee - the only coffee we could get!  I had rapidly learned that without Lily and Sasha, I was sunk. I found all words in Chinese entirely beyond me. I was hopeless. My limited Chinese words were spoken with a perfect English accent, so no Chinese could comprehend anything I was saying. I began slowly to build up a real fear of leaving the Campus. 

On this particular weekend, we set off to catch the local bus. By now, I could undoubtedly fight like hell, along with everyone else, to get on the bus when it came. Once on, I would cling to Sasha as he was taller than me. We usually stood for the whole journey, precariously balancing as the ancient buses would sway and lurch alarmingly. It was great that the Chinese were so small, as despite also being relatively small, I could look over their heads and try to work out where we were as the bus sped along. But halfway to the location, I’d be in a complete muddle and have no idea where we were. Living in China wasn’t just about language and food differences; everything was different, and all the newly-built cities in China were huge, meandering mazes. I needed Lily and Sasha to survive.

Our shopping day had landed on some Chinese holiday, and when we got to the bus stop, hundreds of people had been marshalled into queues. Extra buses were running with mysterious new numbers and locations. None of these things meant anything to me. I was quite capable of getting on the regular 205 bus, and when Sasha and Lily made their way to the exit door, I would obediently follow them. On this particular day, however, we were branching out and getting a number 708 - going to God knows where. We were to have a day out in an area of Nanchang where I had never been. 

I had no memory of why or what it was all about, but as usual, Sasha and I began arguing. This was quite normal; it often livened up Sasha’s English. As the disagreement between us started, his English would remarkably improve. Unfortunately, due to the crowds waiting for the bus, we couldn’t carry out the full-blown argument we were comfortable with. Lily had no interest in our arguments and would stand waiting for the bus to arrive whilst shopping in her head. Lily loved shopping.  

Much later in the day, tired but still full after our lunch, we arrived at a bus stop, and Lily tried to work out which bus number to catch as, due to the holiday, many bus numbers seemed to have changed. We changed bus stops several times until a bus-stop decision was made. Despite Lily and Sasha being ‘old hands’ in Nanchang, I could feel their nervousness about embarking on a new, different bus route.  The overcrowded bus arrived, and we scrambled and fought our way onto it.  

At the next bus stop, three seats became available; Lily went and sat at the front, Sasha sat at the back, and I sat someone in the middle. The bus shortly became full to bursting again. Now and again, I would half stand up in my seat to see the back of Lily’s head at the front of the bus. I never checked on Sasha's location as we were still not talking to each other. The bus journey was interminable. I’d glance out of the window and recognise absolutely nothing at all. I could have been on the moon!  

As the long journey continued, I pulled my gaze from the window and stared anxiously at the back of Lily’s head, knowing what a disaster it would be if I lost her. I couldn’t see Sasha as there was a solid wall of passengers between him and my section of the bus. As we approached the next stop, ‘Lily’ stood up to leave the bus - oh misery - it wasn’t Lily. It was a Chinese woman with the same hair and skin colour as Lily and wearing very similar clothing. I felt the rush of a full-blown panic attack charging through me and had to control a scream rising in my throat. I attempted to stand up and anxiously look for Sasha. No Sasha. Somehow, Lily and Sasha had gotten off the bus and left me to my fate.

So there I was, living a nightmare, alone on a bus travelling through an enormous, strange city, possessing zero local language skills and a translator app that I couldn’t use. I felt a genuine terror that I probably hadn’t experienced since having nightmares as a child.  

I began to doubt my legs would support me, as they seemed to have developed a wobble. Hanging on to the back of my bus seat, I gingerly made my way to the exit doors and pressed the bell for the next bus stop. I looked at the passengers and failed to find a friendly face among any of them. Frankly, they all looked horror-struck to have this strange-looking woman amongst them.

Having alighted, I stood dejectedly at the bus stop, certain that a distraught Lily and Sasha would get off the next bus searching for me. But no Lily or Sasha appeared. Three buses passed, and not one contained Lily or Sasha. What the hell was I going to do? The few Chinese people who passed me gave me a very wide passage. With my blond hair and pale skin, let alone my strange-shaped western eyes, I looked too weird, and I could almost see them shudder at my alien appearance.  

Standing at a strange bus stop in Nanchang, with sod-all idea where I might be, the panic began to retake control. My bladder got fuller and fuller, and waves of nausea began to travel up to my throat - when the 205 bus miraculously appeared! Surely this bus goes to the Campus? The one thing I could say in Nanchang Chinese was ‘NanDa’, meaning ‘Big University’. I bravely stuck my hand out for the bus to stop.

‘NanDa’ I shouted, and the driver grunted and held out his hand for the one yuan coin. The bus was half empty, so I quickly found a seat. I sat down, getting control of the panic. A boy of about 18 came up to me and said, ‘NanDa?’ I nodded, and the student nodded in return and sat directly behind me. Finally, the student nudged me and said ‘NanDa’, and the two of us got off the bus. We walked silently through the Campus as neither of us could communicate one single word of the other’s language. 

Hours later, looking from the safety of my flat window, peering into the darkness, I could finally see Sasha and Lily walking through the Campus. They seemed to be ferociously arguing. I rushed to meet them in the Lobby. Like an anxious parent, Sasha started shouting: ‘Where the hell have you been? We’ve been looking for you for hours!’

Lily said little but frankly looked fit to kill. She finally said: ‘Thank god you had that translator with you. If you’d got lost, god knows if we’d have ever seen you again!”

In the eight years I lived in Nanchang, despite trying to learn Mandarin, I can honestly say the best communication tool was my very loud voice bellowing: ‘Can anyone speak English?’ and I would eventually hear someone say: ‘Very poor, very poor’ - and guess what? ‘Very poor, very poor’ English was truly magical!