Sign Language

I am in Riobamba, a much larger and busier town than I had imagined. From any high point, such as my hostel roof, you can look out, turn around in a complete circle, and have seen mountains and volcanoes throughout the entire 360 degrees. There are 5 volcanoes within sight of the city. Five!

Today was nice, as Chris (other random solo tourist) and I wandered around and explored the cities high points and searched for art in the parks and along walls. The best adventure was daring to enter one strikingly beautiful building upon the hill. It seemed to offer the best views in town. Turns out, that it is their Social Security office! The older and gentlemanly guard, who had been working there for longer than I have been alive, welcomed us. He got permission from his employer to let us go up several flights to have a look around. Inside, the building was receiving a fresh coat of paint. We had to be careful. Chris ended up with white sleeve from brushing up against something. The security guard was more than kind to us. After allowing us to take in the view of the city from different several rooms, he led us back down and outside, where he continued to show us his breathtaking city’s vista from all corners of the land lot. He pointed out each of the 5 volcanoes, and named many mountain peaks for us. He also showed us the different sectors of town that make up the whole. We could even see other towns and pueblos in the distance, from this vantage point, and he named many of them for us. It was special and unique, for moments like this are the reasons for traveling.

Later, we ended up in the main plaza. I ventured off to buy something from a street vendor. As I approached, I noticed that she was signing! I immediately began trying to communicate with her via sign language, but our country’s signs are different (of course.) Quickly I realized that she could hear. She had been signing with her deaf son, who by that time had wandered off somewhere. She and I excitedly talked for a few minutes.

You see, I have seen several deaf people in Ecuador. The first, was a young deaf man who happened to be sitting beside me at “The Ant and the Grasshopper,” a children’s play I attended with Cindy at an elementary school in Quito. He and I did communicate, but it was not easy, as Ecuadorian Sign Language and American Sign Language are all-together different languages. Another time, I passed a deaf woman at a bus station, but for all of my longing, I only smiled a genuine greeting as I passed by. The deaf person I most wished to talk to was in Baños. She was close to my age, and was signing away with a friend of hers. She appeared fluent in her language, and I urgently wanted to say hello, but fear kept me from it. “Who am I to interrupt, not knowing her language?” I feared that it would only be frustrating, and I did not want to be that person. You know the ones that barely know the alphabet, yet see a deaf person on the street and get all excited, run over and interrupt to say, “H-i! I-l-e-a-r-n-e-d-s-i-g-n-l-a-n-g-u-a-g-e-a-t-m-y-c-h-u-r-c-h!” No, I am a professional sign language interpreter. I am not that person. Consequently, my adverse ego prevented the experience.

As I was talking with the mother, running her portable tienda, her son came back. She introduced us to each other. I tried to explain that I am an interpreter in my country. He and I quickly switched to the use of pen and paper (only using it as an aid in the beginning.) When I expressed that I was from “The United States” he signed to me what looks like, “Really?” in American Sign Language (ASL.) So I replied, “Yes.” And this went back and forth until he began teaching me the Ecuadorian signs for the countries in South America, eventually coming to show me the sign for my country, which happens to look almost exactly like the ASL sign for “really?” except in Ecuadorian Sign Language it is with the pinky finger extended.

Though our languages are different, there are many signs that are quite similar, with only slight variations in production. The alphabet is identical except for S, T, and Ch. The numbers are very different. He showed me his numbers first, and when I asked if he wanted to learn mine, he said yes. I showed him, and he copied my hand shapes for each number. By the time we reached 20, he signed, “the signs are so different! So very different!” In that moment, I felt that we understood each other. He knew I was not that person.

We communicated for over twenty minutes, and the longer we did, the easier it became. He attends a school for the deaf right there in Riobamba. He said that there are around 150 students at his school, and that there is a much larger School for the Deaf in Quito.

Unfortunately, Chris had been patiently waiting for me this entire time. So I parted ways with my new friends. The next time I see a cool deaf person in South America, I will not shy away from saying hello, if the opportunity presents itself.