Adios Means Aloha in Nicaraguan

     Yes, I know the language is called Spanish not Nicaraguan. But here in Nicaragua, as is the case with any language in any country, the Spanish is different. As you well know, the French in Cajun country is different from that of Alberta’s French and Paris’ French. English is different in South Africa and England and the United States. For that matter it differs in the Northwestern US from the Deep South.

     In Jinotega people say good-bye using the word “Adios.” That should not surprise anyone. Even the most “un-bilingual” (I just made that word up, but write it down – it will be Webster -recognized in a few years.) know what “adios” means. But it is used as a greeting as well, similar to the way Hawaiians use the word “Aloha.” When passing someone on the street or entering a room “adios’ is often uttered. Does that seem strange? If we look at the literal meaning of the word it becomes clearer. “Adios” is actually “a Dios”, or “to God.” It is a blessing. So it is nice when someone greets you with “adios.”

     In my time working with Spanish-speakers in Texas, Mexico and now Nicaragua, the language has thrown me a few curves. There are many examples of words used differently here than in other Spanish-speaking places. The name of a fruit we enjoy here in Nicaragua can, in other places, be a slang version of the word for breast feeding. When used outside of this region women in the know will give you funny looks. By the way, I had to have it explained to me because I had no idea why I was getting strange, “that’s offensive” looks from Spanish-speaking friends in the US. I thought we were talking about fruit!

**Editorial note: I am in no way close to being fluent, but I have improved my skills by living here. It was once presumed that speaking English louder and slower magically caused Spanish speakers to automatically understand. Although amusing, this is false. Another faux-fact about Spanish is that placing “el” in front of a word and an  ”ō” sound on the end of English words makes them Spanish. You are EL WRONGO! This is also false, but slightly more entertaining.**

     The following is a guide, a key, if you will, to conversations in which I have been involved, or of which I personally heard (or used) the incorrect word, while attempting to endear myself to Spanish speakers with my bi-lingual skills. The blue is the English speaker; the red is the Spanish voice; italicized is the word in question; the black is what I thought I was saying and their response: and underlined is the word I actually said. I invite you to read each conversation as written, and then reread it replacing the italicized with the underlined word.

     While at a medical mission in Mexico…

• Abre sus osos, por favor.   Open your eyes, please.
• ¿Que?  What?
• Abre sus osos, por favor.  Open your eyes, please.
• ¿¡Que!?  What!?
• ¡Abre sus osos, por favor!  Open your eyes, please!
• !No lo intiendo!   I don’t understand!

The word I meant to use was “ojos” (pronounced ō-hōs). The word osos (oh-sōs) means “bears.”

     Another individual repeatedly gave these instructions on the same medical mission:

• Use dos gatos por ojo.  Use two drops per eye.
• ¿Que?  What?
• Use dos gatos por ojo. Use two drops per eye.
• ¿¡Que!?  What!?
• ¡Use dos gatos por ojo!  Use two drops per eye!
• !No lo intiendo!   I don’t understand!

The word she meant to use was “gotas” (pronounced gō-tahs). The word gatos (gah-tōs) means “cats.”

Needless to say after being told to open the bears and put two cats in each they went home concerned that vision was the least of their worries.

     This one took place in a Bible class and is on Sheila as she introduced a lesson to the children. She knows I’m including this story. Didn't say she approved, but was warned.

• ¿Te gusta pescado?   Do you like sin?
• ¡No!  No!
• Ustedes creen sus padres le gusta pescado?  Do you think your parents like sin?
• ¡No!  No!
• Ustedes creen Dios le gusta pescado?  Do you think God likes sin?
• ¡No!  No!
• ¡ Es cierto! Pescado es asqueroso! Todos odiamos el pescado! That’s right, sin is gross! We all hate sin!!

The word Sheila meant to use was “pecado” (pronounced peh-ka-dō). The word pescado (pez-ka dō) means “cooked fish.”

Do you think the children were wondering why God doesn't like eating fish?

C O L C H Ó N

     Finally, my greatest vocabulary/mispronunciation/bring-a-malpractice-suit-against-my-tongue occurred when I first moved here as I prepared our new apartment for Sheila’s arrival. The conversation took place between a co-worker and me as we walked among some furniture stores in downtown Jinotega. I did not become aware of the mistake until later that evening as an acquaintance explained how she misused the word previously. I was horror-stricken as I sat wondering what this new associate thought of me.

• Hermano Luis, necesito un nuevo cachone.  Brother Luis, I need a new mattress.
• ¿Que?  What?
• Necesito un nuevo cachone para mi cama.  I need a new mattress for my bed.
• ¿Que?  No lo intiendo. What? I don’t understand.
• Necesito un nuevo cachone para mi cama, un queen. I need a new mattress for my bed, a queen.
• No.  No.

And with that he turned and walked away.

Later that night at dinner I learned this:

The word I meant to use was “colchón” (pronounced kōl-chōn). The word cachone (Kah-chōn-ā) is a slang reference to a homosexual. Go figger! I just asked a man I barely new to help me find a “new homosexual for my bed, a queen.” Upon returning to work the following morning Luis had a huge smile and I just started laughing amid the apologies and explanations. Fortunately, help arrived in the form of 

a translator.

     We frequently receive requests for mattresses from various entities around the department (state) of Jinotega. Now when I go to the warehouse in need of a mattress, where Hermano Luis is the manager, I practice saying COLCHÓN in my head several times, then pronounce it very slowly, once I begin my request.

“Oh be careful little tongues what you say…”