by Chastidy Vasconez
Last week I asked my host mom and her cuñado how to say peanut in Spanish. Not knowing very much English, they tilted their heads in confusion. Attempting to get my questions across, I grabbed a piece of paper and pen. “Color café.. con líneas,” I said as I drew out a peanut. I then motioned my hands as if I was breaking a peanut open repeatedly. Finally, my mom’s cuñado said, “Ahhh, un almendra!” No, not an almond. I then resorted to just googling a picture of a peanut, which I probably should’ve just done in the beginning.
For a brief moment I was reminded of home. Holding conversations with my own parents often looked like a game of charades, with puzzled faces and fleeting moments where we thought we were on the same page. Growing up with deaf parents was trying at times because my fluency in American Sign Language wasn’t the best. However, in moments of frustration and confusion, I learned to navigate around not knowing specific words, figuring out different ways to get my message across. Now, being thousands of miles away from home in a country with a different language, I’m noticing the patience and persistence I developed from my home life, an experience that at times felt isolating from that of my peers. I think about my parents everyday, and I am ultimately extremely grateful. What seemed to be a struggle growing up has helped me tackle on this new journey, and figure out the word for peanut – maní.