Smiling for Slavica

Smiling for Slavica: Polyphony in English – by Susan Joseph

I am farthest right in the snapshot Slavica took yesterday at the end of the English Conversation Group before the bookshelves in the sunny second-floor reading room of the Georgetown Neighborhood Library.  My whiteboard is loaded with American expressions six young women have been perfecting.  We are smiling for Slavica.  A moment later Hayriye comes from the other small group to ask me, “Where do I bring my cucumbers?”

 The conversation group began three years ago with six wives of diplomats from China.  In the last several months, thanks to social media, there have often been four times as many participants speaking only English.  We start slowly before they take turns reading a news article that will help them learn unfamiliar words and expressions along with grammar.  As they read, they will compare American culture with their own.

Today the atmosphere is relaxed. Many students and teachers are comfortable enough to arrive late.  The group takes shape gradually around a large table.

“Please tell us your name, where you are from, and your favorite and least favorite food,” I begin.  Remembering each other’s names should be easier for all of us if we can associate them with foods.

Beata, from Poland, speaks slowly with heavy consonants.  “I like everything except ananas.”

“Pineapple,” I translate.

“But I cannot live without rice.” From now on Beata’s pale skin, gray eyes, and light brown hair will remind me of rice.

Slavica arrives with her three leggy dark-haired pony-tailed teenaged nieces who tower over their diminutive aunt.

“How did they get so tall,” Mariella wants to know, as Slavica presents twins Nevena and Ana and their cousin Ema.

“They are visiting me this month from Belgrade.”  Slavica draws out her vowels and sounding more Italian more than Slavic.  Could Slavica’s Italianate accent reflect the digraphia of Serbian, which is written in either Cyrillic or Roman letters? 

“I love American food,” drawls Slavica.  “Especially Waldorf salad.”

Once we have agreed on the salad ingredients, I draw out a description of the Waldorf Hotel with the savory detail that I attended a banquet there when my husband’s cousin’s wife was inducted as president of the New York City Bar Association.  Thousands of attendees politely pushed around on our plates traditional banquet fare of rubber chicken and vegetables cooked to death.

“I’m so sorry,” apologizes Aileen, another teacher, who enters as we finish stating our food preferences. 

I ask the participants, only women today, from Western Europe, Eastern Europe, Central America, and China, to plan a potluck dinner, forgetting to say that it is imaginary.

 “I can bring rotisserie chicken,” twangs Aileen representing New York.   

 “Since the potluck is at my house I can barbecue chicken,” I intone.  Flattening out my Midwestern vowels I riff on a recipe for beer-can chicken.

“You shove a half-full can of beer to bubble up inside a spicily seasoned chicken cooked upright on a grill.”  Everyone laughs at the naughty recipe.

Our potluck continues to take shape.  Beautiful Russian Masha’s treat is fried calamari. Out of Olga, the tongue-tied mother of two small children raising a ruckus in another corner of the room, come paella and sangria from Spain.  When Costa Rican Marite brings refried beans she will see four of her colorful small paintings hanging in my entrance hall. Beata will fashion fruit salad, and Solenne promises ratatouille. 

I had thought that the physicist Hayriye understood that each person would suggest a favorite native dish, but now she seems confused.  I suggest a Turkish mezze with cucumbers and yogurt.   “And garlic,” she adds.   The high point will be Sue’s golden line shrimp, fried, in a bowl.  Sue is too modest to mention that as the wife of the chief military diplomat from China she is so busy that the shrimp must be prepared by a chef from the Chinese Embassy.

Now that there are 13 participants and three teachers, we divide into two small choruses to review a news article about healthy eating.  Of the three Serbian cousins who began learning English by singing Sesame Street songs when they were five, Ana is advanced enough that I ask her to coach the others.  I refrain from asking them to perform their favorite song. 

“How do you stay healthy eating croissants,” Marite asks Solenne.

“We have toast, jam, and fruit for breakfast, Solenne answers.  “We save pain au chocolat for once a week.”  I am ravenous. 

Following the conversation’s turn to art, low-voiced Zina rhapsodizes about Taras Shevchenko, poet and founder of Ukrainian literature, whose statue stands nearby at 22^nd and P Streets NW. 

As we finish, Hayriye comes from Aileen’s small group.

“Where do I bring my cucumbers?”

“My house,” I answer. “But we need to set the date and time.”