Spoken Languages
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Actions speak louder than words Experts estimate there are somewhere between three and seven thousand spoken languages around the world. Friends often ask: "How can you travel in a country where you don't speak their language?" In the beginning I asked myself the same question as I approached each new adventure with some trepidation. Over the years I have come to realize just how little of our important basic communication is handled by spoken words. In fact, language sometimes interferes with understanding. In many situations words are more easily misunderstood or misinterpreted than more basic means of communication such as gesture, situation, body language, attire, facial expression and tone of voice, inflections,  demeanor, reference to maps, etc. The study of non-verbal communications has received a great deal of attention by the international commerce communities. There is even a dictionary devoted to body language. Common sense is mostly culture independent: no one asks you what size shoes you wear when you sit down in a restaurant thinking you might be there shopping for shoes! Cross cultural communications does have its moments of humor.
 ...with a questioning expression... In a restaurant mumbling a few foreign words unintelligible to the waiter and pointing to another diner's plate invariably gets you an order of the same dish. Once in Dar es Salam feeling a bit devilish I did just that. After establishing that no one spoke a word of English I rose from my seat quickly surveying the other tables and finally spotting something that looked like real food I announced with conviction to my attentive waiter "Mumbo Jumbo! Yellow Bird wants to eat good food. O.K?" He smiled, nodded and hurried off to get me a duplicate of the dish to which I had pointed. To be fair, he probably did understand the "O.K?" part.
Everyone knows the function of a map.  Arriving by bush-taxi in the outskirts Dakar I dashed away from the ever present hustlers at the drop off point in a direction I guessed might be toward the center of the city. After walking a half hour I finally admitted to myself being lost. Eventually I came upon a cluster of people who seemed to be waiting for something. Greeting the group with the few words of French at my command I pulled out my map of Senegal. First pointing to Dakar on the map and then tracing a big circle around the city, I laid the palm of my hand over my chest and then moved the index finger down to the center of the circle and then at various points around the imaginary circle with a questioning expression. A brief animated discussion among several of the curious bystanders ensued as several people began giving me excited directions. In only a few seconds a consensus emerged as several people gestured in the same general direction. I could tell a debate about the "best" way to get to my presumed destination motivated most of the activity, but I already had what I needed: a compass heading! An hour and a half later I again found myself lost, but clearly in the vicinity of city center. This time a well dressed gentleman did speak English and insisted on walking several blocks toward my destination until we could actually see the hotels he had recommended. 
American? How on earth did he guess? My First World origins often speak volumes to people I encounter in the Third World, announcing my likely interests and needs even before I have a chance to say a word. More times than I can count someone has asked: "American?" I have never gotten over the surprise of being so quickly identified. I do nothing that would mistakenly identify me as a "rich American." On several occasions I've asked people how they so easily knew my nationality. "Your clothes," or "your shoes," or "your hair," and by implication, "your ethnicity." As far as I can tell my clothes differ little from those worn by many of the cultured indigenous or most other white Europeans. A careful interrogation usually reveals that it is the whole gestalt, the demeanor, the way we walk, the air of confidence commonly seen in American travelers that makes us so easy to spot. 

In any of the poorer parts of Africa I visited, people commonly volunteered solutions to my unspoken needs. My mere presence in their country told them I would need the best that their restricted economy had to offer, and that being a "rich" American I could afford to pay for it!. 
  When I reached east Africa I eventually discovered a gesture which unambiguously expresses sincere compassion. Often used in response to requests for assistance, the right hand over the heart in connection with felt sympathy never failed to create an instant rapport and facial expressions of understanding and acceptance. 
  There definitely is a typical American stereotype: loud, demanding, gum chewing, baseball cap, shorts, and flashing money. Unfortunately, just enough Americans fit this description to reinforce the stereotype, even though few of us behave so thoughtlessly. In Africa any American is assumed to have plenty of money to flash, if they choose not to do so. The reality is that any middle income American is indeed quite "rich" by local standards. Read what others have to say about the Ugly American stereotype and some actual Ugly American Stories. 

Being in Africa the subject of animal predation comes frequently to mind and long forgotten "fang and claw" episodes of various African "true life adventure" films sprang into my consciousness. The filmed hunt of a lion pride instantly suggests ways to avoid becoming the prey of human "hunters." The silent language of human predation is rarely discussed by travelers and exaggerated warnings of danger ignore the universal realities found even in urban jungles of the developed world.

Fred Bellomy
30 January 2002