Klymer Klatsch
Inconsequential musings of Don Clymer
Thursday, July 18, 2024
Strange, Interesting Encounters
Monday, February 19, 2024
A Birthday and Memories of Honduras
Left to Right: Debra, Dean, "Jefe" and Doreen |
On Saturday, February 17, over 60 former volunteers from the Voluntary Service (VS) program in Honduras and their spouses gathered in Pennsylvania to celebrate the 90th birthday of their “Jefe” LaMar Stauffer. LaMar and his spouse, Kass (deceased) led the VS program in Honduras from their base in La Ceiba for some ten years. They were dearly loved by the VS “boys” for all they did to make the transition to a different culture and language. They became our surrogate parents during the time of our service, but more than that, they extended friendship that continued over the many years.
The VS team when I was there. "Jefe," his three children and Kass, on the front row. |
LaMar’s three children, Dean, Doreen and Debra planned and hosted the event. Hispanic food, cake and ice cream served as reminders of our time in Honduras and LaMar’s insatiable appetite for ice cream. He had a hand-cranked ice cream maker, unavailable in Honduras, imported to regale us with ice cream to enrich our team meetings.
I was among the group of VS boys, now elderly men, who attended the festivity. I reconnected with many of my contemporaries, some of whom I hadn’t seen seen since our days together in service. Stories and memories emerged; some forgotten and new ones made.
My wife Esther and I traveled from Harrisonburg to Pennsylvania with Ray and Vi Horst. Ray had served in Honduras nine years before me, but we both had had LaMar and Kass Stauffer as our leaders. Both of us were Spanish instructors at Eastern Mennonite University stemming from our time in Honduras.
Former VSers were given the opportunity to share stories with an open mike about LaMar. George Zimmerman, one of the first VSers shared about how the program evolved from the time he was first recruited, to when the program was big enough to accommodate a dozen or more volunteers at a time. We sang some of LaMar’s favorite hymns and failed miserably to sing an all-time favorite hymn that we all thought we knew from heart: “Por la mañana dirijo mi alabanza.”
Carrying the "Zurdo" around the bases on our shoulders after he helped us win the national championship. |
I connected with my first roommate Ben, with whom I lived for a year in Guanaja, one of Honduras’ Bay Islands. I met with one of my roommates, Marvin, from La Ceiba where I lived for my second year. I connected with the southpaw Glenn, (Zurdo) who taught Hondurans fast-pitch softball and ruined my career as a home run hitter. I got a laugh from him when I told him that “I would never forgive him!”
I connected with George, the VSer who voluntarily lived in a hut and slept on a the dirt floor to better identify with those he was serving. I greatly admired him for doing something I could never have done and because of his commitment, I wrote about him and the extreme poverty he experienced in my memoir. I met the couple, Irv and Janet, who had served as the hosts for the VS house in La Ceiba when I lived there. I connected Leon, who joined us from Argentina and reminded me that I introduced LPs by Simon and Garfunkel and Peter, Paul and Mary to the VS record library that had consisted mostly of Mennonite Hour “hymns of faith.”
I met with Wilmer, who not only helped to set up the first VS unit in Guatemala among the Q’eqchi’-Mayan people after his time in Honduras ended, but returned to farm in Honduras. Ken, who was the VSer in Tegucigalpa who had the job I was jealous of, was also there, but I see him frequently because he lives in Harrisonburg, Virginia, where I do.
There are many other names I could mention, some of whom were there when I was, and some who served years before and years after my stint. One of the things that most impressed me, is how many of these former volunteers, myself included, forced into service by the obligatory draft during the Vietnam war, returned to do a second or third stint of service. Our love for the people, language and culture of Honduras impelled us to return, many with their spouses. In fact, the first three VSers to Honduras, Amzie Yoder, George Zimmerman and Ben Stoltzfus all returned as missionaries. Only George was able to attend the party. Ben perished tragically during an attempted robbery while serving as a missionary in Belize (formerly British Honduras).
Me (right) mingling with some of those in attendance |
A monumental birthday and loads of memories filled the afternoon. The time passed too quickly, with many lingering after supposed closing hour. My heart was filled with delight to participate in this event, as I am sure was true of most of those attending. Thanks to the LaMar Stauffer children for planning this memorable event.
Wednesday, January 24, 2024
Our Wounds are from God
I was enjoying a cup of coffee sitting across from a friend of mine at a local cafe. Our conversations often delve into the depths of our souls, and this conversation was no exception.
My friend was describing how wounded he was from his childhood. Nothing he did in his mother's eyes was good enough, and his father belittled him. (Later in life, he realized they were speaking from their own woundedness, not about his shortcomings. It was their way of trying to encourage him to do better, though they did not understand the impact this had on him). My childhood was somewhat similar; I received very little affirmation from my father and seldom could do anything right in his eyes.
We agreed that personality plays a role in how we respond to our wounded selves. His affected him well into his adulthood, affecting his view of himself and his relationships with others. In contrast, I pushed my wounds aside, playing the class clown and the happy-go-lucky carefree teen.
As I have written in many other places, this all ended for me when I spent over two years in Honduras as a young adult. I was deeply wounded by the poverty I experienced and the response by the majority of the church in North America. Added to that is the political shenanigans of the government of the United States in the region.
As I explained my woundedness to my friend, he looked me directly in the eyes and said: “Your wounds are from God.” Tears welled up in my eyes as I let the profundity of his words sink into me. God had allowed my woundedness in order for me to grow in my spirituality and person. It took years, but like my friend, by recognizing and working on our woundedness, we are both at a better place today. My friend talks with his mom regularly (his father has died), and at the end of each conversation, he tells his mom that he loves her; she says the same back to him as tears well up in her eyes.
Many of my writings affirm that we are “created in the image and likeness of God” (Gen. 1:26 and 27) and “Your are beloved of God.” These are positive aspects that have been received graciously by my readers and audiences of my seminars in the USA, Canada, Switzerland and Colombia. I instruct my students to look into the eyes of others as well as in the mirror and say, “You are beloved of God.” My friend’s comment on woundedness made me turn my thinking in a different direction.
We are all wounded in some form despite being created in God’s image and likeness. We carry scars from our past which gnaw at our wholeness and self-confidence. Henri Nouwen, prolific author on spirituality, has written extensively on both our woundedness and our being beloved of God. The quote in the image above is how I would like to approach this discussion.
Nouwen also states “what is most personal is most universal.” He is quoting psychologist Carl Rodgers. Perhaps we should look into each others’ eyes and let our woundedness connect with the woundedness of the other. By so doing, we create a space within which we can more deeply experience our pain and look to each other for healing. After acknowledging our brokenness, we can begin to reconstruct our wholeness through the affirmations of being loved by God and being made in God’s likeness.
The fact that I became so touched when my friend said: “Your wounds are from God,” would confirm the power of recognizing each other’s woundedness in our conversations. “In our own woundedness, we can become sources of life for others."
Thoughts?
Thursday, November 16, 2023
Mimicry and Empathy in Language Usage
Marco Tulio, my Honduran friend who taught me much about Spanish language and culture. |
In their November 11, 2023 episode, co-hosts Martha Barnette and Grant Barret spoke with a young nurse whose friends told her that her accent had changed since she started working in a hospital. She was totally unconscious of this. The hosts commented that this was a common phenomenon in which people change their manner of speech in order to show their empathy towards other people.
I identify with this in my own experience with English, my mother tongue, Spanish, Standard German and Swiss German. It involves mimicry. I identify four areas of mimicry that I have used, sometimes consciously and sometimes unconsciously: 1) audience, 2) rate of speech, 3) vocabulary (including idioms and expressions) and 4) intonation. By mimicking others who surround us, we show our empathy toward them.
Before the advent of texting, making telephone calls with friends was more common as a way to keep in touch. My wife told me she could identify with whom I was speaking within minutes of my phone call. My speech patterns, vocabulary and intonation changed according to the person with whom I was talking. I was identifying with my audience and using specialized vocabulary and intonation that I had in common with them. In many cases I used a particular accent. I was cementing the relationship with a friend and showing them empathy. These conversations were all in my native tongue.
While learning other languages, mimicry is crucial to be able to speak intelligibly with others. I learned Spanish first in the classroom and was influenced by the accent of my non-native teacher’s accent. Then I spent two months in a language school in Costa Rica, taking on the local accent variations. Next I lived in Honduras for two years and picked up not only a slightly different accent, but many special expressions. When I would use them with other native people from other parts of the Spanish-speaking world, they either identified me as having learned Spanish in Honduras or looked at me in total confusion. Finally, I studied and lived in Mexico for an equivalent of four years. Now other Spanish-speaking people identified some of my intonation as peculiarly Mexican.
With each step in learning Spanish, I mimicked the particular vocabulary and intonation of the place where I was living. I would argue that this made me more emphatic and fit better into the particular place where I lived. It didn’t hurt that I am a natural-born mimic. Anyone, however, can get closer to the language they are studying if they listen intently and try to mimic the sounds. This leads to more empathy with those who surround you. I have been told by someone who studied this phenomenon, that people who retain a strong, nearly unintelligible accent when living in another language field, often feel above the people with whom they are relating. This would be the opposite of empathy.
In one instance, when living in an English-speaking island off the north coast of Honduras, I used my mimicking ability to duplicate the pronunciation and intonations of the local English dialect. They were offended, thinking that I was making fun of them. So I had to back off and use my normal patterns of speech, although I did include the new vocabulary. I was only trying to empathize with them, but in this case, it backfired.
Another matter of interest is the speed with which I would speak my foreign language. I often unconsciously mimicked the speed of the speaker with whom I was involved in a conversation. When I became aware of this, I had to consciously slow down to a more normal speed for myself because at an increased speed the potential for making mistakes greatly rose. I don’t usually do this with my native language.
For people in the helping professions, like the nurse I mentioned above, empathy is essential in making breakthroughs in relationships and understanding. However, one needs to be careful not to completely lose one’s own individual identity in relating to the other. This sometimes called “going native.” A healthy balance is necessary. One also needs to back off if the person or people seem offended.
Intercultural communication is a valuable asset in today’s diverse society, no matter whether speaking in one’s native tongue or in another language. Empathy goes a long way for intercultural understanding, and even more in regular conversation with our own kind.
Sunday, October 22, 2023
Faulty Language Selection: A Problem for Polyglots and How to Mitigate It
Trying to communicate with my Swiss brother-in-law |
She described a situation in which she tried learning Russian, but words from her first foreign language, German, kept popping into her head. She wondered if it was due to Russian being similar to German, but the creators of the show, Martha Barnette and Grant Barrett, said she was more likely experiencing “faulty language selection.” Apparently this happens frequently to polyglots learning more than one foreign language.
Friday, September 1, 2023
What Do I Know About Fear?
Workshop at Anolaima |
When my good friends Felipe Preciado and Diana Cruz invited me to Colombia to give workshops on The Spacious Heart: Room for Spiritual Awakening, a book I had co-authored with my sister Sharon, I was skeptical. I wondered how a book written for a North American audience could have any relevance in a Latin American context. They were confident that the themes were indeed universal, and not just for one culture.
While I was skeptical about the themes relating, I was not skeptical about going to Colombia, one of the few Spanish-speaking countries I hadn’t yet visited. So plans were put into place and we left for Colombia on August 19 with workshops planned for two different localities.
Our book deals with 11 areas in our society where we are “driven by culture” rather than being “drawn by God.” Of the 11 topics they chose four for me to present in 3 one-hour sessions: driven by legalism, driven by being in control, driven by anger, and driven by fear.
By far the most pertinent topic was the one on fear. Colombia has lived with civil war for over a century. I was told of story after story of living in fear of both sides of the conflict. Just across the valley where I gave one of my workshops, guerrillas hid, often sneaking into the village either to pillage or to ask for supplies. If government officials caught them offering food, it was aiding and abetting the enemy. They were caught between a rock and a hard place.
Woman displaying picture of her disappeared son. |
With these realities, what do I know about fear? Despite living abroad for several years in some areas where there was potential conflict, as well as living under several dictatorships, my life has been rather calm and secure. My fears, as well as those of my contemporaries here in the USA are relatively minor compared to my friends in Colombia.
Group discussion Anolaima |
During the question and commentary time after one of my workshops, a man from
the back of the room stood up and said that the session on fear touched him deeply. He had been a guerrilla, and lived in constant fear that someone would seek revenge on him. He carried a gun with him wherever he went, including to my workshop in a Mennonite church. He was touched by the message of love: “perfect love drives out fear” (1 John 4: 18). He vowed from then on to not let fear drive him, to trust in Jesus’ perfect love, and give up his gun. There was barely a dry eye in the audience when he sat down.
What do I know about fear? Maybe just enough to let God’s message of love reach those who need it no matter what the circumstance, culture or language.
Our friends Felipe and Diana, organizers of our trip and workshops, seeing us off at the airport. |
Wednesday, August 30, 2023
Listening, Hearing and Understanding
I confidently strode up to the counter of United Airlines to present my passport and boarding pass for our return flight to the United States from Colombia. “English or Spanish?” asked the sweet young attendant dressed in the deep-blue uniforms of United’s staff. “It’s all the same to me,” I answered, proud to be able to use my Spanish.
Felipe and Diana, our hosts, tour managers, and friends |
With a broad smile, she claimed that she thought I looked like some famous Colombian actor, whose name I didn’t catch. We continued the process of checking in when suddenly she asked me something that I didn’t understand and asked her to repeat it. I still didn’t understand. She switched to English. How embarrassing, even humiliating, for a 32+ year-pro at teaching Spanish! Truth be told I didn’t understand any better after she repeated it in English. Somehow we got checked in.
This sort of event happened to me over and over again as I went through our nearly two-week itinerary in Bolivia. If the person stood directly in front of me, and I could follow their lips, I understood perfectly. If in a noisy restaurant eating with friends, I could hear and respond to the ones in front of me, but those to the right and at a distance, were mostly mumbles. I often had to pretend that I understood.
I’ve known for several years that I have been loosing my hearing, but had been too proud to admit it. Esther, my spouse and traveling companion, had made subtitle hints over the years, but several sisters were quite blunt in their assessment of my hearing acuity. I kept putting off looking in to the possibility of hearing aids.
With friends of ours in Colombia (see picture), we had planned for several years for us to come to Colombia to present workshops there on the book I wrote with my sister: “The Spacious Heart: Room for Spiritual Awakening.” I began to wonder, with impaired hearing, how I would be able to respond to questions from the audience in large meeting rooms or churches. So I went to audiologist. The tests he gave me proved beyond a doubt that I had lost significant hearing ability, especially in my right ear.
I was fitted with some very up-to-date hearing aids, and groaned as the price was rung up on my credit card. Unfortunately, they would not be available until one week after I had returned from Colombia. So off we go, with me only hearing half of the conversation. In spite of a wonderful time, I wonder what all I missed?
The last time we spent significant time in a Spanish-speaking country was in 2015, over eight years ago with a group of EMU students. I had no incidents like I describe above where my ability in Spanish was put into question.
I have always contended that listening is more important than speaking when learning another language. Now I have to add hearing to listening. Our listening is our focus on the other person in the conversation, our hearing interprets our listening into understanding what the other person said. If our hearing apparatus is impaired, our understanding not only is incomplete, but might even be totally wrong.
After listening, hearing and understanding, we begin to speak. But even our speaking is impaired by our inability to hear well. Whereas my speaking Spanish had always been smooth and fairly unaccented, I discovered that at times I slurred words, couldn’t roll my “r”s smoothly, and spoke in choppy sentences. In my head I could sense what was wrong, but the words came out of my mouth before I could correct them.
I can only make this claim because of the experience I had using a model of the fitted hearing aids I had purchased. As I spoke, I could hear so much more clearly the sounds that I was making. It was like singing tenor, hearing perfectly well in your head the pitch you are to hit, but failing to make it because of impaired vocal chords. I am confident that when I get my hearing aids, I will not only be able to hear other people better, but will be able to speak more fluently with fewer word slurs.
I will probably be disappointed since I did not factor in age with my thoughts. My knee replacements were a miracle of science, but they didn’t give me knees of a 30 year old. Esther tells me that I still wobble when I walk.