Martina
Her name is Martina. She is from Kazakhstan, like my friend Naz, who introduced us. My first encounter with Martina was last night, when she went with us to look at the sights and eat too much too late afterwards.
Martina's Russian and Kazakh exceed her English speaking skills. Naz, fluent in English, Russian, Kazakh and Chinese, does the bulk of the talking and interpretation for her.
This morning, I came to Naz's hotel room and Martina answered the door. Naz was still asleep. I summoned Martina outside while Naz got ready.
Martina wore a yellow dress that complimented her Eskimo-like dark features with a pronounced nose and slanted eyes. I motioned for her to sit in the only plastic chair on the sidewalk and perched on the not as comfy air conditioning unit protruding from Naz's hotel window.
"I am a teacher," I announced.
"I'm?" Martina asked, wondering if I meant her.
"No," I said, pointing to myself. "I am a teacher."
Martina smiled. "I'm a teacher, too. I study."
I nod. "I teach from the heart, not the head," I said, pointing to each.
"You are afraid to speak English, but you must not let the fear stop you. You must learn to speak from the heart."
I looked into her eyes. "You worked hard this summer," I said, slowly. "Housekeeping is hard work. Thank you for doing the important job of making sure the dirty rooms get clean."
I paused, making sure she understood.
"You are valuable," I said. "Do you know what valuable means?"
Her eyes brightened. "Volleyball," she said.
"No," I replied. "Valuable. Like gold."
Her foreheard crinkled as a blank look stole her expression.
"Gold," I said again. "Very valuable."
"Dirt," I went on, "No valuable."
She nodded, grasping the concept.
"You are gold," I said, looking directly into her eyes.
She teared up.
"You are valuable. You are important."
\I felt like the lady in the movie The Help who convinced a young unwanted child of her worth.
I took Martina's hand and motioned for her to stand.
"Stand here," I said, walking away ten paces. "Now close your eyes and walk to me."
"I'm?" she said, pointing to herself.
"Yes, you. Close your eyes (I closed mine to show her) and walk to me without opening them."
She looked puzzled, but closed her eyes. Was she afraid to defy this strange English speaking expert?
She gingerly stepped in my direction.
"Come on," I coaxed. "You can do it."
She took a few more uncertain steps before stopping an arms length from me.
Martina opened her eyes.
"You let the fear stop you," I said. I returned her to her original position. I backed up to where I had been ten paces away. I closed my eyes. I walked toward her without hesitation and stopped right in front of her before opening my eyes.
"You must be confident," I said, looking into her face.
"You must not let fear stop you."
She nodded.
Impulsively I hugged her. She hugged back. I whispered in her ear.
"I love you."
She whispered back, "I love you, too."
We drew back and each noticed the other was crying.
The language barrier eroded in the light of new friendship.
