Epilogue

브런치를 다시 시작하면서 2015년에 쓴 Letters from Argentina 시리즈를 다시 읽어보게 되었다.

지금은 어디 가서 스페인어를 대학시절 제2 외국어로 배웠다는 말을 하지 않고, 어쩌다 이 사실을 들켜버려 전 회사 식당 관리자였던 카를로스가 나만 보면 큰 소리로 스페인어를 해대 얼굴이 빨개져 버린 적이 한두 번이 아니지만, 한때는 나도 스페인어를, 그리고 사람의 아픔을 위로하는 마음의 언어를 배웠던 적이 있었지… 하고 추억에 잠기게 되었다. 아르헨티나를 다녀와 교환학생 보고서로 썼던 과거의 글을 조금 다듬어 Letters from Argentina의 에필로그를 영문으로 올려본다.

I first heard Spanish spoken when I moved to the U.S. in 2012 to attend college. To someone who had never heard Spanish spoken before, the sound of different accents and tones was intriguing. It was then that I decided to learn the language. The journey to learning a third language, in addition to improving my English, was a challenging one, and the experience tested my limits. Although I knew it would push me out of my comfort zone, I later decided to study abroad in Latin America.

Before going abroad, I researched the history of human rights violations in Argentina. During the 1970’s, thousands of college students were accused of being communists and ‘disappeared.’ Though this tragedy happened far from my home, I found that it related to my research about North Koreans in internment camps. After making this connection, I was inspired to conduct research on human rights violations during Argentina’s dictatorship, and I boarded a plane to Buenos Aires.

As part of my research, I visited detention centers, the plaza where demonstrations are held, memorials, and a number of historical sites in Buenos Aires with hopes of conducting interviews with survivors. Managing interviews with my limited Spanish was incredibly challenging. There were some moments when I was so frustrated that I even considered giving up my research. I also often underestimated the time it would take to go from one place to another and would end up travelling several hours, only to miss the appointments I had made.

One of the main challenges of the language barrier was that I didn’t feel sufficiently familiar with the language to express myself in the usual polite way I address my peers and elders. This meant that I sometimes spoke far too bluntly of the traumatic memories of survivors I interviewed. Even after I managed to meet survivors, they were resistant to sharing their stories, and my interviews then seemed fragmented and incomplete. In this respect, I blamed my lack of language skills for my being unable to communicate, often repeating to myself “if only I was fluent in Spanish...”

To hide my weakness, I realize now that I would use elaborate words to try to impress interviewees and appear professional and sophisticated. Once, one of the bereaved I met, Mrs. Cantarini, gently held my hand during an interview and said: “Jane, mírame a los ojos. No tienes que ser perfecta. Podemos hablar a través de nuestras ojos y corazones (Jane, look at my eyes. You don’t have to be perfect. We can talk with our eyes and hearts.)” At that moment, I understood that the most important skill is not fluency but empathy. After Mrs. Cantarini had taught me about the universal language of empathy, I was able to better interact with the people I met, collect primary sources, and even complete my research project in Spanish. I also believe that having greater empathy led me to understand the human rights issues in Argentina on a deeper level.

While this experience took place in a foreign land, far away from home, I came to understand that human rights violations can occur at any place and at any time. Such acts are context specific, but they can also be widespread and often indiscriminate. Researching Argentina’s history has allowed me to recognize the importance of lessons learned to prevent human rights violations from repeating themselves and to protect the most vulnerable.