Friday, December 09, 2005
 | Yoni It was one night after a performance of The Music Man when my mom greeted me at home with, "We're having a boy!" I joined her on my parents' bed and looked at the picture of the new "brother" we were to receive next week: an tall, skinny, barely-18-year-old boy named Jonathan Alfonso from Tigre, a town two hours outside of Buenos Aires, Argentina. I had just been telling the girls in the dressing room that I hoped we would get the 23 year-old girl because, I think my exact words were, "What the hell am I supposed to do with an 18 year-old boy?" And a week later, on my parents' 27th wedding anniversary, Jonathan joined our family. The fact that he pretty much knew only how to say "Nice to meet you", "thank you" and "congratulations" didn't help the shyness or timidity of this sweet boy who had never been outside of Buenos Aires, let alone Argentina or South America. On his first day, a moment of brilliance prompted me to pull out my old children's world atlas and the two of us spent an entire Saturday afternoon using pictures and bastardized versions of each other's languages to communicate about the countries we came from. At one point I apologized to him for my poor Spanish and he grinned and said, "Es mejor que mi ingles!" (It's better than my English!) I loved him right then. So back to my question... what does a 22 year-old American girl do with an 18 year-old Argentinian boy? I quickly figured this out. She teaches him imperative phrases to know in the U.S. society such as "That sucks", "Chill out", "I am going to pick up chicks", "What's your problem, idiot?", and "It's my shit". She drives him to and from school and makes him tell her about his day. In English. She tries mate` and authentic dulce de leche and cumbia. She learns how to cuss in Spanish. She squeezes into a chair with him at night to listen to the newest music he has illegally downloaded. She drinks hot chocolate with him while he studies. She spends a shady evening at FX because it's unnatural for an Argentinian to go three months without dancing. She shows off her favorite parts of Oregon. She realizes how hard Americans are going to have to work to overcome their tarnished reputation with the rest of the world. She meets somebody special. She spends a lot more time at church. She gives up trying to teach him to pronounce her name. She gains a brother. And this is only the stuff I can easily articulate. In three months, I feel like I have gained so much perspective about our world and my teeny-tiny place in it. I am so embarrassed at how ignorant and unaffected I am about so many humanity issues on this planet. I am moved and touched at how something that seems so seemingly commonplace to us as participation in an exchange program is the biggest opportunity to ever to have come to anyone in Yoni's family or community. I reflect on the "accomplishments" I have made in my life and question if any of them are really significant. Yoni's conversational skills have progressed far past "congratulations" and "nice to meet you", but I'm not sure that he is the one who has learned the most in this experience. He calls me his teacher because I correct his pronunciation. In my heart I call him my teacher because he has corrected my worldview. Gracias Yoni, mi maestro, mi amigo, y lo mas importante, mi hermano. Ahora, y en el futuro, siempre seras mi hermano. He leaves on Monday. |
indescribable 
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