My taxi ride through Casablanca in 2017

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Hassan II mosque

Before cruising to the Canary islands (Spanish), Madeira (Portuguese), and the cities of Málaga and Alicante along the coast of Spain, we stopped in Casablanca, Morocco, on the north coast of Africa. There they spoke Arabic and, lucky for me, French. I ended up speaking and listening to people who spoke to me in French and got along quite well. Many of them also spoke English. After walking all the way from the old medina to the Hassan II mosque, we were ready for a Taxi ride to a restaurant for lunch. Just then, at the steps to the plaza of the mosque, a taxi driver introduced himself to us in English and said, “I am taxi driver here for 27 years. This is my city. I will show you my beautiful city, take you to places you want to visit, and wait while you eat or look around. Here is my taxi; please come with me and let me give you beautiful tour of my city.”

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Sitting in the restaurant L’Etoile Centrale

I usually might be wary of such offers, but he seemed quite genuine and trustworthy, so we took him up on it. While getting into the taxi I asked him if he spoke French, and he said “Oui, bien sur” (yes, of course). I told him I would like to practice my French with him and he said he would like to practice his English with me and we could each speak to the other in our second languages. That is what he said, but in practice, we ended up speaking mostly French. He did prove himself trustworthy by first taking us to an authentic Moroccan restaurant called L’Etoile Centrale as well as running in with my husband’s phone which had been left on the backseat of the unlocked taxi. We had a delicious meal, heard Arabic, French, and English spoken around us in various turns by the same people, and got back in the cab with Mumu (that was what he told us we could call him though his given name was Muhammaed).

The only thing Mumu did that I really, really didn’t like was take us to a rug store. I told him before he took us there that we weren’t interested in rugs, but he said we must go look at this “textile cooperative” because it was their culture. I hoped it might be like a living museum. When we got there, they took us into this showroom, brought us a silver tray of mint tea, and said, “This is Moroccan hospitality, you will please accept our offer of tea.” Then they proceded to show us various kinds of rugs— thicker, thinner, rougher, softer, this one of silk and this one of wool, of this design or that design. They asked us which one we liked the best, and there was a soft silk rug with a background of blue decorated with yellow, orange, red, and green. I said I loved it and it was beautiful. They said this was valuable, the more you use it, the more valuable it becomes, it becomes more valuable with age, we will cherish it forever, they will ship anywhere in the world, and “How much you will pay for this?” I explained I was simply answering their question about which rug I liked the best, but I couldn’t afford to buy it. There was a lot of pressure, and my husband even thought seriously of buying it (with money we don’t have), but I insisted that we did not come into the shop or even on our vacation to buy a rug, that the rug cost more than our whole vacation and we had to save for months to afford to travel, etc. They kept pushing and pushing. Finally, I decided the only recourse was to be rude, so I said “goodbye” and told my husband we were leaving.

Then Mumu took us to an oil and spice shop across the street. This I could do. I had already been thinking of buying Moroccan argan oil for my hair, as I have been growing it out, so I bought a bottle for 10 euros. Not bad, considering what they charge in the states. We walked back to the taxi and the manager of the rug store accosted us again. “I make you deal. How much you pay? How much?” “No much” I said, and he finally left me alone. Mumu then drove us around, and I have neglected to say how riding in a taxi in Morocco felt terrifying, even death defying, as the streets were so narrow and twisted, and our driver had to wind his way through them past double-parked cars and opposing traffic turning around curves with double-parked cars on them. Anyway, he took us past various impressive areas including the king’s palace to the new medina.

I had told him I wanted to buy some authentic Moroccan pastry. He very wisely took me to a shop called Pâtisserie Bennis Habous (pronounced the French way, Benny Aboo). This place was like a little walk-in closet covered with bins of all kinds of pastries along every short wall. They have these beautiful boxes and they cram whatever you want into them as fast as robots with ten arms assembling a circuit board. I asked for one of just about everything in a little box. Oh my God they were delicious! I must admit they all tasted about the same — a kind of marzipan filled dough baked to perfection — but it didn’t matter. This place more than made up for the rug store (sorry, “textile cooperative”). And they cost something like 3 euros altogether (or maybe 5 €; I don’t remember).

Me in fez, kaftan, and shoes
Me in fez, kaftan, and shoes. I did buy the kaftan!

After getting pastries I said I’d like to get a couple of souvenirs “not made in China.” We went to a little stall where they had clothing and other items. I liked the kaftans, and the shopkeeper showed me the one I picked out in blue and insisted on putting on me a fez and shoes to go with it. I didn’t want the fez and shoes, but I did take the kaftan. We haggled in price and he didn’t come down as much as I thought he would, but it seemed fair enough, except we didn’t have enough cash and he didn’t take cards. We discussed with our driver about going to an ATM and he said he could pay the shopkeeper and then take us to an ATM and we could pay him back. He handed the shopkeeper to twenty-dollar bills and I said, “Oh, I have two twenties” and handed my twenties to the driver. They then argued in Arabic and I couldn’t understand why. I looked up the French word for haggling in the car and said to Mumu “j’ai reconnu assez beaucoup de chipotage là-bas,” (I noticed a fair bit of haggling there), and he explained that they looked at the date on the bills and valued the currency based on the date of mint. I asked him why, that there was no sense in that at all, and he said, “mais c’est comme ça” (but that’s the way it is). Something my husband said to me this morning reminded me of that resignation to the way things are even if they are make no sense, and I thought to myself, “mais c’est comme ça.” I think that phrase will be one of my lasting souvenirs.

I was very glad to know French because it made our time together much more interesting. At one point he had a lot to say about his family in response to my questions and he rattled it off quickly in French and said “Wait! Don’t tell him yet!” when I was about to interpret to my husband; then he kept telling me his story and said, “Et maintenant vous lui expliquez!” (and now you explain it to him!). His insistence on holding court made me laugh, as well as his control of me as an interpreter, which I am not quite used to experiencing even when I’m doing it for a living. I was proud, though, that I understood him and was able to interpret what he said, even though I wouldn’t have been able to say even half of what he said half as fast as he said it.

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Andy & me with our taxi driver, Mumu

All-in-all we were glad we went with Mumu. I told him I felt like he threw us to the sharks back there at the textile cooperative, but other than that we had a good time. Between our walk by ourselves and our ride and stops with the taxi driver, we had a decent time in Casablanca. I don’t know what it would have been like if I hadn’t spoken French, but I think it helped that I did. I imagine he earned a commission of some kind at each place he took us to, or at least some sort of kickback. At the restaurant he got a sandwich, and I imagine he would have gotten a lot more if we had bought a rug– or maybe he owed them and that would have cleared his debt; I really don’t know how it works there. At any rate, I felt what we paid him (I think about 50 Euros, though I don’t recall) was worth it. We had a good time. He did what he said he would. I asked for this selfie to remember him by.

See more of my photos, as well as videos, of Casablanca.

Mi desarollo como intérprete trilingüe

Yo sigo en aprender español para que yo lo añada a mis lenguas de interpretación. Afortunadamente, aún a este punto intermedio de mi desarollo, a veces yo puedo hacer un poco de interpretación trilingüe. Por ejemplo, quizás yo interpreto para una cita médica en esta manera: hay un médico oyente que habla español e ingles, un miembro de familia oyente que habla español y el lenguaje de señas, y un paciente sordo que usa el lenguaje de señas americano. Cuando el médico y el miembro de familia hablan con juntos, yo interpreto al paciente sordo lo que están diciendo; cuando el paciente seña, el miembro de familia comprende el paciente y yo interpreto al médico en inglés. Si a cualquier tiempo no entiendo el español del médico o del miembro de familia, este doctor es dispuesto a decírmelo en inglés. !Se sale bien!


I continue to learn Spanish so that I can add it to my interpreting languages. Fortunately, even at this point in my development, sometimes I can do a bit of trilingual interpretation. For example, perhaps I interpret for a medical appointment in this way: there is a hearing doctor who speaks Spanish and English, a hearing family member who speaks Spanish and sign language, and the Deaf patient who uses American Sign Language. When the doctor and the family member speak with each other, I interpret to the Deaf patient what they are saying; when the patient signs, the family member understands the patient and I interpret for the physician in English. If at any time do not understand the doctor’s or family member’s Spanish, this doctor is willing to say it to me in English. It works out well!

Bimodal interpreters, not just sign language interpreters

Sign language interpreters are spoken language interpreters too

To talk about our work, it helps to have efficient terms that accurately define it. Typically, we ASL/English interpreters call ourselves “sign language interpreters,” while we call (for example) Spanish/English interpreters “spoken language interpreters.” Yet signed language is only half our language pair; the other half is spoken language; therefore, we are also spoken language interpreters.

How to distinguish, then, between interpreters who work with two spoken languages and interpreters who work with a spoken language and a signed language? Saying “signed-spoken” and “spoken-spoken” is a mouthful. Luckily, there are better terms for this comparison: bimodal and unimodal (Emmorey, Borinstein, Thompson, & Gollan, 2008). What we share with unimodal interpreters is that we are bilingual. What sets us apart is that we interpret between two modes: signed and spoken; therefore, we are bimodal interpreters.

Visual language interpreters are aural language interpreters too

I like the name of the Association of Visual Language Interpreters of Canada better than the Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf because we are interpreters for the H/hearing as much as we are interpreters for the D/deaf. Yet the term visual language interpreters fails to acknowledge that we are also aural language interpreters. This is where bimodal is more accurate. We interpret in two modes: call them aural and visual or audible and visible; either way, we are bimodal interpreters.

We are also bimodal when we do sight translation; i.e., interpreting from written text to signed language for those who have difficulty reading. An interpreter might also do tactile sight translation for a Deaf-Blind person who does not read Braille or cannot obtain a certain document in Braille. There are many different ways we facilitate communication; not all of them are visual, but they are all bimodal.

We need terms as inclusive and specific as our work

Bimodal is an accurate and comprehensive term for what we do to facilitate communication between D/deaf and hearing people. We, as a collective of individuals, serve a diversity of deaf (not always Deaf) consumers using a variety of methods to make audible language visible and vice versa.  Some use American Sign Language (ASL); some use manually coded English (MCE), a.k.a. pidgin sign English (PSE), or, preferably, contact language; some use oral methods such as mouthing and gestures; still others use cued speech. Whatever opinion people have of these modes of communication, there are D/deaf people who use them, and there interpreters and transliterators who serve those D/deaf people and their hearing interlocutors. Not all of these methods are bilingual, but they are all bimodal.

To be even more accurate, some of us sometimes interpret using audible, visible, and tactile methods between hearing, D/deaf, and Deaf-Blind people, so when we do that, we are trimodal interpreters.

Let scholarship inform our practice

The demand for bimodal interpreting services has always outpaced the supply of available practitioners, and consequently, federal funding has primarily been directed at increasing the number of available practitioners, not on research and development. As a result, we contend that the field has adopted and maintains a “culture of practice” rather than a “culture of scholarship.” (Nicodemus & Swabey, 2011)

There is a time and place for specialized terminology. I am not suggesting we start calling ourselves bimodal interpreters outside of the profession. I do not plan to say to hearing clients, “Hi, I’m your bimodal interpreter!” I will continue to call myself an interpreter first, and an ASL/English interpreter second. I might even slip and call myself a sign language interpreter if I am careless. However, when talking about our work vis-à-vis the work of interpreters who work in spoken languages only, I would like to see us compare bimodal interpreters with unimodal interpreters instead of sign(ed) language interpreters and spoken language interpreters. Fellow interpreter educators could start by introducing the term bimodal bilingual, if they have not already done so, and fellow interpreters could use the term in professional discussions. It would be ignorant to use the same terminology we have always used when scholarship informs us of a better option. We are professionals, and part of professional practice is scholarship. I believe it is time for us to take a more global, research-based view of what we do, and start talking about it in ways that demonstrate greater awareness.

References

Emmorey, K., Borinstein, H. B., Thompson, R. and Gollan, T. H. (2008). Bimodal bilingualism. In Bilingualism: Language and Cognition 11(1), 43–61. Retrieved from http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2600850/

Nicodemus, B. & Swabey, L. (2011). Bimodal bilingual interpreting in the U.S. healthcare system: A critical linguistic activity in need of investigation. In B. Nicodemus & L. Swabey (Eds.) Advances in Interpreting Research. Inquiry in action, 241–259. Philadelphia, PA: John Benjamins. Retrieved from https://www.academia.edu/5270051/
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