So Much For Silence

As a means of enlightening and preparing us for situations that we might encounter at Chemawa, we read an article about the value and various uses of silence in some native cultures, specifically Western Apache. The culture in which I have been immersed most of my life teaches me that silence can be interpreted is appropriate, polite, rude, effective, powerful, a sign of weakness, and even an admission of ignorance depending on its context. This same idea applies in Apache culture, but some of the circumstances are dramatically different. The author of our article describes “ethnography of communication," or "knowledge of what kinds of codes, channels, and expressions to use in what kinds of situations and to what kinds of people." My codes can be very different and unique to the way I have been raised to communicate and function in the world. Using Western Apache codes, silence can be used when meeting strangers or dealing with new people. Instead of blurting out ones pedigree (I'm Larkin, and English major from Boise, Idaho, and I love to sing), strangers wait it out, watch each other, and can go days and days before speaking. Another example: rather than awkwardly apologizing or trying to say just the right thing to someone who is grieving, a person just might be silent. And another: when being "cussed out" or yelled at, in Western Apache culture it is appropriate and advisable to refrain from speech. I think of how many times I've seen arguments that escalate to literal kicking and screaming because one person tries to out-do the other in volume and below-the-belt blows.

The point of all of this is that it's a good idea to know what we, as tutors and inexperienced outsiders, might encounter a situation completely foreign to us and try to interpret it using our own lenses and ideas of what is normal and acceptable, and in doing so we might completely misunderstand a student and a situation. For example, the first night I might "K," he refused my help completely and wasn't interested in speaking to me at all. He perked up a bit when I mentioned we had the same last name, but he appeared even less interested the following week to strike up a conversation. The confidence and charisma that I would normally try to use wasn't going to get me anywhere. In fact, it's that overbearing, walk into a room and think you own the place, dominant culture record that I have playing in my head that could potentially be the biggest barrier in our ever having a conversation.

So, with this knowledge in mind and the "I'm a confident white girl" record tucked in my pocket, tonight I sat myself down at a table with K, said hello, and just waited. I could tell he wasn't as focused on his literature homework as he pretended to be, sort of checking me out from under his hood, squirming in his chair to get a better angle to peek at me without being so obvious. Finally he said, "I forgot your name. What's your name?" And it was gravy from there. He talked for the entire two hours, opening up a whole lot of things to me about his friends and day-to-day things he's dealing with. Some of it broke my heart, some of it sounded all too familiar, and some of it made me feels like I've been out of high school for half a lifetime. He shared a journal of poetry he writes when he doesn't feel like doing his homework, and he told me all about a group of friends he has that have become like a family and started recording some songs together last summer. Cray-z, Mr. T, Ambush-us, and Dedic8ed make up G.N.A, the Greatest N8ives Alive and they are R.O.C., Rapping out of Control. I loved it. His friend saved up the money from his Social Security checks to buy a keyboard so he could record beats. Cray-Z started to sing, and eventually they went to a radio station on the reservation to put it all together with better equipment.

I'm learning a whole lot by just listening. Last week, I felt like I was being tested, but also that there were things that needed to be said, needed to get out of this young man's body and out into the world so that he could breathe easier. Tonight I felt the same way. I have to prove myself, to earn their trust. I have to listen without judgment, laugh at their jokes, admit when I feel silly, and realize that this experience is never going to be what I expect it to be. I spent more than an hour listening to K talk about his favorite moments from basketball tournaments, girls that have had crushes on him, girls that he's had crushes on, and what he wants to do with his music some day. And to be honest, I was expecting the silent treatment.