The Trick Is To Marry Someone Dumber Than You
It certainly worked for my wife.
Yesterday Janice told me that I when I speak Tok Pisin my voice changes.
"How so?" I demanded, insulted and hurt, and only mildly curious about this scientific phenomenon.
"Well..." She stared into space for a few moments, "Let's talk about it in the car."
We were in the marketplace and I was throwing around Tok Pisin phrases like a Chihuahua giving attitude to much larger dogs. I felt like I was communicating but Janice had just removed the valve stem from my puffed chest.
"I think I'm doing fine!" I said, ignoring Janice's plea to not start a discussion in the marketplace while people were petting our children. That does put some unusual stress on an otherwise normal conversation.
But as I tried to tell the market mama that her wares were beautiful but I didn't want any and I must leave now to talk with my wife, I couldn’t help but hear myself and I knew Janice was probably right. As per usual. Which made me cross. Why can't I ever be silently right? Every time I loudly try to prove I'm right, I'm usually proven wrong in spectacular fashion only a few moments later. How is Janice silently right all the time? Maybe the trick is to marry someone dumber than you. It certainly worked for Janice.
We got in the car and had our discussion.
"When you talk, your voice gets really high and wavy," she said. She demonstrated by doing what could be described as yodeling in spectacular fashion.
"Oooo. Is that really how I sound?" I tried out a sentence in Tok Pisin and found she was right. "That's curious," I said.
Sometimes when you're married to a really nice woman, she can be scared to really tell you what you need to hear. But Janice had finally reached a point where she had to let me know. "It's just kind of embarrassing. I don't know why you do it. You talk to people like you're talking to a baby."
I considered what she said. It would be embarrassing if the situation was flipped and Janice was the one talking to adults like they were babies. I’d probably say something too.
I thought out loud, "I think it's because I'm always posing what I'm saying as a question, because in my mind it is. In my mind I'm asking them if what I'm saying is correct. The problem is, they don't know that. They just hear a high pitched, effeminate man butchering their language." I paused and reflected on my words to see if they were right. Yea, I think that was it.
"You don't talk that way with Jeremy," Janice said. Jeremy is our language helper.
"I think I'm comfortable with Jeremy and so I just spout anything in my normal tone of voice," I said. Jeremy has learned not to be offended by stupid things I say. " But when I'm out in public, I get insecure about my language and I begin asking statements instead of stating statements."
Maybe I talk funny because I try to read people as I'm speaking to make sure I'm not saying anything offensive. Like the other day I asked Emil, my PNG coworker at the hangar, if he wanted to take a bath with me. I meant to say that we should give the airplane a bath. It was
I did found an escape route though. If a person I’m trying to communicate with looks hopelessly confused or offended after several different tries, I'll say: "Sori. Mi lainim Tok Pisin." (Sorry. I'm learning Tok Pisin). This usually makes them laugh because it gives them permission not to understand me. It gives them permission to correct me. And they feel respect because I'm trying to learn their language. And they also start gesturing with their hands, which is usually really helpful. It can also be much more confusing.
And when I get confused, apparently I begin to talk like an emotional women, no offense to any emotional women at there. Still, I am talking in a foreign language and that's a leap forward from a month ago!