Lost In Translation...

Lost In Translation…

I am a secret lover of many things but my problem is that I am terrible at keeping the things I love secret. My list of secrets is long and winding but I will keep it limited to just one for the purpose of this conversation. So, in case you haven’t realized already, I am an incurable logophile. I love words and have been fascinated by them for as long as I can remember. Back in the days when I used to read the Bible to my granny, I would ask her to explain the meaning of some fascinating words and she would take pains to explain every single one of it to me in different contexts.   

That taught me a lot. I grew up to appreciate the value of words and how people can use words to express and conceal what they think at the same time. Again, I found that words are the medium through which we give life to our worldviews. By extension, I have also come to love anecdotes: those short interesting, amusing and thoughtful narratives. They have a powerful way of telling you a story in a simple and memorable way. I have a considerable reservoir of them; hanging somewhere in the deepest recesses of my mind until I need them. 

One person I have borrowed a lot of anecdotes from is Dr. Ravi Zacharias so I think it is in order to share one of the stories I heard from him. It is a story about a bandit Jose’ Rivera, who became notorious in several little towns in Texas for robbing their banks and businesses? Finally, the townsfolk, weary of the constant plundering, hired a ranger to track down Jose’ Rivera in his hideout somewhere in Mexico and retrieve the money.

The ranger, at last, arrived at a desolate, ramshackle cantina. At the counter, he saw a young man enjoying his drink. At one of the tables, hands over his ample stomach, hat over his eyes, snored another patron. With much gusto, the ranger approached the young man at the bar and announced that he was on a mission to bring back Jose’ Rivera, dead or alive.

“Can you help me find him?” he asked.

The young man smiled, pointed to the other patron, and said, “That is Jose’ Rivera.”

The ranger shifted his southern girth and ambled over to the sleeping bandit, tapping him on the shoulder, “Are you Jose’ Rivera? he asked.

The man mumbled, “No speak English.”

The ranger beckoned to the young man to help him communicate his mission.

The ensuing conversation was tedious. First, the ranger spoke in English and the young man translated it into Spanish. Jose’ Rivera responded in Spanish, and the young man repeated the answer in English for the ranger.

Finally, the ranger warned Jose’ Rivera that he had two choices; the first was to let him know where all the loot he had stolen was hidden, in which case he could walk away a free man. The second choice was that if he would not reveal where the money was stashed, he would be shot dead instantly. The young man translated the ultimatum.

Jose’ Rivera pulled himself together and said to the young man, “Tell him to go out of the bar, turn to the right, go about a mile, and he will see a well. Near the well, he will see a very tall tree. Beside the trunk of that tree is a large concrete slab. He will need help in removing it. Under the slab is a pit in the ground. If he carefully uncovers it, he will find all the jewelry and most of the money I have taken.”

The young man turned to the ranger, opened his mouth...swallowed...paused—and then said, “Jose’ Rivera says...Jose’ Rivera says...’ Go ahead and shoot!’”

Interesting. Isn’t it? Somewhere in the translation, the truth had been sacrificed at the altar of selfish interest. I hope this anecdote stays with you the next time you listen to a one-sided story or receive second-hand information.

Cheers.

Anecdote was taken from Ravi Zacharias’ seminal book, Can Man Live Without God, (1994, pp. 98-99)