My Linguistic Conundrum

         As I began reading Silvana Paternostro's memoir My Colombian War: A Journey through the Country I Left Behind, I was unable to abstain myself from feeling a familiarity in her language. It is not a familiarity that I praise. Instead it is a feeling of familiarity and knowing that I dislike. I felt I had read texts written with a very similar voice and language at school. This is no coincidence: Paternostro, most of my classmates and I are Colombian. Still, I felt this was not the way I want to write like. I fell its too Colombian for a memoir written in English. Yet, this is the essence of the memoir. My Colombian War is not meant to be a regular memoir written by an American. It is a Colombian memoir written in English by a Colombian woman that was swayed by the American culture and language.

Paternostro's memoir caught my attention because her stories have a lot to teach me. Like her, I am curiously interested journalism so I thought her story my interest me. This story is one about the blending of two cultures through journalism, therefore there is much to learn for me. Yet, I could not resist from thinking how Paternostro wrote her memoir. After some research I found no indications that her work was first written in Spanish and then translated to English. This is the untouched voice of Paternostro's Egnlish. Even though she has lived most of her life in the U.S the Colombian influence in her narration is obvious. Paternostro declares, "the life of freelance journalism is made of that: looking for ideas that can become stories," (p. 6). In no way I am saying this is incorrectly written, but I feel skeptical as I read it. I can perfectly imagine hearing a Colombian saying what Paternostro writes, but when I read it in English I feel it does not correspond to the language. I imagine someone saying, "de eso se trata el periodismo. De buscar ideas que se pueden convertir en histories," but I feel awkward imagining someone saying it in English.

I have read very little of Paternostro to be judging her writing, but enough to question my questionings. Perhaps my questions arise from trying to think in English when I actually think in Spanish, therefore I feel identified with Paternostro's writing. At least I have identified her Colombian roots. If this problematic is one that Paternostro also faces remains a mystery for me, but I feel her writing has a noticeable influence from Colombian speaking manners. Paternostro's extensive explanations and casual comparisons such as "The visit to Cartagena in 1996 had left me curious and hungry and I had started doing what I call "a little research", similar to what happens when you start developing a crush on someone," (p. 2) feel very familiar to me. It may be because I am accustomed to hearing and speaking in similar ways, but I feel confused with her descriptions. These are things I have seen in Spanish, but not in English. Not in text or speech. 

Freedom in the Combine

The approach Douglass takes on the ending of his narrative is a very peculiar one. He decided to abstain from telling the story and details of his escape in order to protect any fellow slaves that might have a chance like his. Even though some may perceive this as disappointing or unfulfilling, it is not. Douglass closes by depicting the reconstruction of his life as a citizen and not a slave. He finishes with a joyful and compelling ending instead of a bitter and intricate one. Yet, Douglass communicates his major interpretations of the system he was subjected to. 

It was impossible not to recall Ken Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest in the quintessential moments preceding Douglass's freedom. These two works parallel the constraints of a system and illustrate similarities in the breaking of the human spirit. I was reminded of the insurgent R.P McMurphy when Douglass reveals his examinations. He analyses how slaves were made thoughtless by their owners and eventually they ceased being human, all in order to have owners and slaves "content"(p. 98). Correspondingly, in Kesey's novel McMurphy serves as a conduct to depict the annihilation of the human character in mental institutions. When man is most fragile and impotent they lose reason and succumb to the restraints of their system. Douglass recounts how he confronted slavery and overcame its dehumanizing character, but Kesey shows how McMurphy failed to overcome the system. Slavery is a ruthless practice that has seen the destruction of many and unfortunately it has extended to present day. The psychiatric institution that Kesey portrays is just one of the many similar institutions to slavery.

Unfortunately Douglass's (and every freed slaves') suffering did not end with emancipation. It was impossible for Douglass to be calm after he freed himself. He had to rebuild his life in a new world where he "was afraid to speak to any one for the fear of speaking to the wrong one, and thereby fallen into the hands of money-loving kidnappers,"(p. 104) and cope with the threatening life of a free slave. In the end there was rest for Douglass, but the menace of slavery prevailed. It was always reminding him of what he had been and Douglass never forgot: he "felt myself a slave"(p. 112). 

Drive: an Elusive Detraction

       Reviving his most vivid memories, Frederick Douglass exposes a slaveholder's most feared revelations in Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave. Mr. Auld, one of Douglass's former masters, struck Douglass's curiosity to learn how to read when he said teaching Douglass would make him "unmanageable, and of no value to his master" (p. 45). Consequently, emancipating from a slaveholder, probably a significant fear for them, was easier for a slave if he or she was educated. Eventually Douglass's grasped his master's fears and turned them into his drive for many future pleasant experiences.

  As Douglass saw his master abhor the education of a slave, he found a treasure in his speech. Hearing this triggered Douglass not just to read, but also to acquire a cleverness he lacked before learning to read. Similarly to a child who constantly acts in an opposing manner to that which a parent instills in, Douglass embraced opposing manners to his master's desires. He learned that "that which to him was a great evil… was to me [Douglass] a great good, to be diligently sought" (p. 46). The argument which discouraged Douglass's learning to read actually inspired him profoundly and convictively to learn. In order to confront slavery Douglass resiliently seized his biggest difficulties and in the end he came stronger, wiser and even as a free man.

It is common that the most unexpected contradictions ultimately become great discoveries. This was, at least, in Douglass's case. He learned to read while he was detracted from it. The more Douglass was dragged away from reading, the more he was attracted by it. Douglass even recognizes the greatness in his obstacle because this was what ultimately gave him the desire to learn. He acknowledges he owes "almost as much to the bitter opposition of my master, as to the kindly aid of my mistress," (p. 46) while he explains the foundations of his drive. Sometimes the power needed to develop strengths lies in the opposition and if one learns to understand it, it may result useful. Douglass discovered the medium to his passion by understanding the nature of his greatest detractions: the curb of knowledge.

An Appropriate Comparison

Wondering what to write my blog about, I came across the article  "When Blaxploitation Went West", written by Aisha Harris. The author assesses D'Jango Unchained's actual status as a western or a blaxploitation film in a very interesting take, yet, I do not want to talk about my views on D'Jango Unchained. Instead, I want to comment on the "mandingo fights", which Harris briefly mentions. I found a minor event in Frederick Douglass's narrative that made me reflect on these.

The brutality of "mandingo fights" is inconceivable for anyone, yet Quentin Tarantino exploits this myth to bolster his film's crudeness. The existence of "Mandingos" is uncertain, but still some claim similar fights did exist. Frederick Douglass's narrative makes me wonder if something along the lines of "nigger fights" or "mandingo fights" could have existed in a minor way. Douglass describes the impassioned discussions and fights slaves had with slaves of alien plantations while debating the greatness of their masters. How could any of them be better than the other? "They seemed to think that the greatness of their masters was transferable to themselves. It was considered as being bad enough to be a slave; but to be a poor man's slave was deemed a disgrace indeed!"(p. 33) says Douglass as he dooms the brutality of his fellow slaves. "Mandingos" are complete aberrations to anyone, but fighting for a slave's master too. It does not differ much from "mandingo fighting". Either way, slaves represented their masters' status, wealth, and "greatness". 

One could argue that slaves fought for their masters because of fear and the hope that the masters would reward them some way. Still, it is unbelievable that slaves would say their masters were good. Douglass suggests the most logic answer to these fights as he says, " …he was snatched away, and forever sundered, from his family and friends, by a hand more unrelenting than death.This is the penalty of telling the truth, of telling the simple truth, in answer to a series of plain questions." The ferocity of fighting for a slave's master was due to their intimidation and savagery. Slaves would lie and fight anyone to satisfy their masters' needs. After all it was them who could continue ruining them, or as Douglass describes, "promote" them to a more dignifying (or rather less savage) job.

After watching again the dehumanizing "mandingo fights" I assert these were too extreme. How could they not be extreme? They are Tarantino's deeds. But also, I wonder if these serve as hyperboles of somewhat similar fights like the ones depicted by Douglass.  Before reading his narrative I had never thought a slave could really fight in the name of his master.