Can you believe all the recent news about the counterfeit and defectively conceived facsimile of an interpreter in South Africa? I was dumbfounded by the audacity of the whole thing. This is a clear and unquestionable case of why NERDAs must never take on such awkward and crudely executed public bamboozlement! No, such public skullduggery is always best left for the professionals, such as CODA's.( I dare say, a novice CODA could have pulled that off without even breaking a sweat. ) A mass public, high profile hoax is always best left to the professional, highly trained practitioners of CODAesque tomfoolery and must never be attempted at home.
Dumbfounded aghastness exploded in my brain and left me thunderstruck in incredulous disbelief that high, governmental, Harvard cultivated and educated, muckety-mucks could ever be so easily hornswoggled by such a train wreck of visual nonsensical gesticulations and hand flailing! Just goes to show, there's a NERDA born every minute. ( What?! I know that's not the exactly correct quote, but hey, this is my blog and I like it. It's called "embellishment"... work with me here people.)
I don't know why I was taken back by all this, it's not like I haven't had to face this before as a highly trained, professional bicultural-bilingual mediator. ( For those of you from Ravenna, that's a fancy way of saying "professional interpreter".) Let me illuminate my ruminations for you with a story from one day in my life at work.
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Whoa! Back up the indigent, self righteous, looking-down-your-nose, ethical wagon my friends. Fear not my fellow practitioners of the dark interpreting arts, at no time will I give out any confidential information. To you I give my solemn, yet slightly satirically soiled vow, that all the incriminating facts such as names, location, and whatnot have been changed to protect the ignorant and witless persons and the innocent bystanders. Hey, for all you know, this whole story is a pure concoction, song and dance prevarication of a sick and feverish mind. ( Once again for the Ravenna people, that all means I may have made this all up for all you know. ) Yet, in an attempt to pacify your noble sensibilities, as a gentleman, I promise, however bland and unamusing as it may be, no ethical guidelines have been breeched. ( For those of you who have indigently yelled out your objections at your electronic media screen, "He is NO gentleman", you're way ahead of me, commence patting yourself on the back, you would be correct, I am no "gentleman"...never shall there be such an aberration of nature as a "gentlemanly CODA". The mere thought makes me shudder! )
With that taken care of, let us resume the blog. ( Geez, oh man! NERDA's and their sickening adherence to civility and decorum. Thankful am I never to have been hindered with either of the twin curses of civility and/or decorum, nor can I imagine I shall ever be so afflicted. )
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So, there I was, minding my own business, waiting in the local halls of municipal justice, all ready to take my part in the American national pastime of suing thy neighbor. ( Contrary to the common misbelief, I am capable of minding my own business, thank you.) After torturous years of plying my trade in Municipal Courts, it has become my firm and fervent belief that the courts have become the modern day Coliseum, with the litigating parties slugging it out in a quasi-gladiatorial fight to the death in front of a spectators, salivating to see juridical rhetorical bloodletting.
For those of you who have not familiar with the judicial process involving interpreters, here is a brief explicating. ( Stop the groaning, brevity is in my blood.) When interpreting services are required by a court, the Bailiff contacts an office like mine and we send a legally qualified interpreter to the court at the time and date specified. The Judge will administer an oath to the Interpreter, whereby the Interpreter swears or affirm to interpret all that is said and or signed during the court proceeding to the best of the Interpreter's ability. ( To break it down even more, if something is signed in court, I say it. If something is spoken in court, I sign it. No additions, deletions, or deviations from that is signed, or spoken.) All is fairly simple and straightforward...or so I thought.
As fate would have it, the demigods of Interpreting were going through a dry spell, saw an opportunity to liven thing up a bit, with the added pleasure of tormenting me. ( Tormenting me seems to be a favorite enjoyment of a great many demigods and mere mortals. ) The torment and mischief came from the deletion of uninterestingly small, yet pressingly paramount, piece of information. The lack of this information was diabolically deleted so as to transform me into Mr Bean in the court room.
As I was saying, there I was, patiently waiting to preform my job, sitting in a sea of various washed and unwashed life forms, all supposed to be human, and all shoehorned into a lobby conspicuously devoid of the necessary ventilation system to mitigate the odd eye-watering fragrance. ( I kid you not, the lingering scent was so odious as to cause my contacts to shrivel up in pain and attempt a last ditch escape by leaping from my eyes. ) So desperate was I to remove myself from the crush of my fellow man, I toyed with the idea of pulling the fire alarm I spotted on the far wall as my eyes darted around desperately, looking for a means of escape, as my lungs, sinuses and olfactory senses screamed for relief. Just as my hand raised in a frantic grab for life at the fire alarm, I heard the life saving words, "Where is the sign guy? We need the sign guy now". Little did I know how compressed and contort my body could become till I skirted through the maze of vermin infested bodies, all without breathing mind you, and scurried to the Bailiff as he called me.
Soon, I was standing before the Judge's bench, in my usual place, so as the deaf person can easily see me, the Judge and any lawyers present. As the court proceedings started, so did my flawless and effortless interpreting of what the Prosecuting Attorney said as his opening remarks. ( Ok, no stress yet.)
As the Prosecuting Attorney drones on and on, bloviating in the finest legalese, a low level alarm starts to flash in the back of my brain. The alarm was triggered by the fact that there was a second deaf person, seated on the opposite side of the Deaf Defendant, in the courtroom. ( This would be the first bit of uninteresting, yet essential, deleted information. Still no stress, just a bit more work to ensure both get all the information. Being a professional, I sweat not. )
Then, just to make things a bit more interesting, the alarm in my brain has moved up a notch as the Prosecuting Attorney pointes out the presence of a third player in this drama. ( Second piece of hitherto undisclosed nugget of pertinent deleted information. Now I'm starting to glow, yet all is under control since the third party is a non-signing NERDA.)
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Let's take a moment to recap the courtroom setup before the fun starts, shall we? Seated before me at the Plaintiff's table is the signing impaired, NERDA who filled the lawsuit against the Deaf, non-speaking, Defendant who is seated on my left, in the jury box. ( Why was the Deaf Defendant in the jury box you ask? I don't know, yet that's where the court sat him. Don't get bogged down in that detail. ) On my right side, sitting at the defense table, is the other Deaf person, the Material Witness, who has oral skills and speaks for herself. Wondering back an forth in front of me is the Prosecuting Attorney. Behind me, over my right shoulder, is the all powerful Judge. ( The Judge would prove to be the final mislaid, seemingly unimportant piece. The trap has been laid by the interpreting demigods, I witlessly stepped right in and am going to be semi-divinely "Punk'd". More about the Judge to come. )
All is simple, right? Not so, say I. As it turns out, the signing impaired NERDA Plaintiff is in fact the live in boyfriend of the oral/signing Deaf Material Witness. The oral/signing Deaf Material Witness is the good friend, who may have had a romantic entanglement with the Deaf, non-speaking, Defendant. The signing impaired NERDA Plaintiff hates the Deaf, non-speaking, Defendant. The Deaf, non-speaking, Defendant hates the signing impaired, NERDA Plaintiff.
Now that we have all the game pieces setup on the game board, let the amusement begin. As natural, the whole game revolves around the ever important Interpreter; i.e., me. ( Keep your eyes on the Interpreter gang, that's where all the fun is happening.)
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Things start off with the Deaf Defendant telling his side of what happened. As he signed, I naturally voiced to the court what he said. All went well, not to hard. As he told his side, the Deaf Defendant started to get agitated at the situation and started to add some swearing into his narrative. Now, I have never been one to be shy and hesitate when a Deaf person swears, so I just when along with his swear.
Rap, rap, rap went the Judge's gavel; "hammer, hammer, hammer" signed I. "I'll have no cursing or foul language in my Court. Have I made that clear?", asked the Judge. ( Here was the germ of my being "Punk'd". The rain clouds start to form and the all consuming storm and starts to pick up strength.) Unbeknownst to me, since I was looking at the Deaf Defendant in the jury box as I signed the Judge's warning about swearing, the Judge as it would be, had fixed his humorously glaring upon the golden locks on the back of my head.
The Deaf Defendant gave a tame narrative from that point on. One would think after all the years I have been an interpreter, not to mention a CODA, my highly sensitized eyes would have picked up on the subtle, yet meaningful darting eyes and head tilt of the Deaf Defendant as he tried to inform me of the bull's eye the Judge had seared into the back of my head with his glare. But no, I did not notice it. Soon he was done and all was fine in my mind.
Next the Deaf Material Witness was asked to tell what she saw on the day in question. Since she was oral, she chose to speak for herself in court and have me sign what she was saying to the Deaf Defendant. ( "Why didn't she sign herself?", I hear you ask. Simple says I, why do all the work when a captive interpreter is present? ) She presented her take of the events in question to the court, all the while the Deaf Defendant shook his head and scowled at her retelling.
Then came the moment all had been waiting for, the signing impaired NERDA Plaintiff slowly rose to his feet, surveying the swelling crowd of legal gad flies, and readying himself for a testimony of Academy Award winning performance. ( I kid you not, as our sideshow of an American judicial hurricane broke upon the courtroom, more a more of the supposed human life-forms from the hall way outside of the courtroom, started to migrate into our courtroom. Clearly, they had been able to sense that someone within the courtroom was about to have their proverbial judicatorial blood spilt before the day was done. ) As he began his tale, all was going well for your well seasoned Hero Interpreter. No need to break a sweat yet I thought. As the NERDA Plaintiff drowned on, I kept an eye on the Deaf Defendant, who was becoming noticeably agitated, and the Deaf Material Witness was starting to lean back and descend down into her chair. seeing this happening before me as I interpreted the testimony of the NERDA Plaintiff, I started to glow from perspiration. Not a full sweat mind you, just enough to make my forehead glow with a dew of perspiration.
On and on went the artful prevarications issuing from the grand standing NERDA Plaintiff. As his words filled the room, a visual image of an over taxed dam flashed in my minds eye. All the fabricated words of the NERDA Plaintiff were filling the reservoir behind the dam. The agitated angry emotion of the Deaf Defendant was filling the reservoir behind the dam. The heightened anticipation of ensuing legal bloodletting of the courtroom spectators filled the reservoir behind the dam. The over worked and feverish mind of your Hero Interpreter was filling the reservoir behind the dam. Even the fascinating way the Deaf Material Witness was shrinking into her chair was filling the reservoir behind the dam. Higher and higher the tension in the courtroom built, adding unimaginable stress to the picture of the dam in my mind.
The tension continued to sore skyward as the NERDA Plaintiff continued to bloviate and I interpreted.
Turmoil and acrimony built as the Deaf Defendant visually drank in every word as the NERDA Plaintiff continued to bloviate and I interpreted.
Near hysterical apprehension climbed ever upward as the courtroom spectators sat on the edge of their chairs and stood on their tiptoes with hopes of epic legal bloodletting as the turmoil and acrimony built within the Deaf Defendant as he visually drank in every word of the NERDA Plaintiff's continuous bloviating on and I interpreted.
On and on we went, unable to deescalate till suddenly...
I've heard that when people get swept up in a flash flood, a tsunami or an avalanche, they barely have time to respond. Here and now, I tell you this is true. When the dam in my mind burst, all pandemonium exploded in that courtroom. It burst when the Deaf Defendant jumped up and started to sign back at the bloviating NERDA Plaintiff that what he was saying was lies and inserted expletives that the Judge had previously banned. What was I to do?! Naturally, being the well trained interpreter, I belted out all the expletives I could to match the tone and tenor of the Deaf Defendant. Keep in mind, while I was letting swear words fly, I kept up my interpreting of the ceaseless verbal onslaught of the NERDA Plaintiff.
Just then, the courtroom of spectators erupted as the Judge's gavel came crashing down, lifting him up out of his seat with each mighty blow. Over the thunderous exploding gavel hammering in my right ear, I could hear the Judge screaming, "Order! Order!", over and over. All I could do was continue to swear as venomously as the Deaf Defendant signed, sign as arrogantly as the NERDA Plaintiff spoke and interject as fiercely and thunderously as the Judge said "ORDER,ORDER!!".
History says the President James A Garfield could write Latin with his left hand and Greek with his right hand, both at the same time. I once thought that was impressive. That is till I interpreted what the NERDA Plaintiff said, voiced what the Deaf Defendant swore, and thundered what the Judge screeched, all at the same time. Needless to say, my nostrils were flaring, my eyes were popping and I was sweating like a race horse.
On and on this continued. Around and around it went for what seemed to my feverish mind an eternity. At the moment the blood vessels in my brain were nearing a catastrophic an simultaneous bursting, I heard the Judge say over the roaring of the courtroom spectators, the loudly obnoxious NERDA Plaintiff, overly excited Deaf Defendant, ( Its a well known fact, every Deaf person can pronounce each and every swear word with crystal clarity, regardless of how unskilled they maybe at regular spoken English. It's a fact...look it up.), and myself, blinded by professional madness, interpreting, "Shut the hell up you sorry ass interpreter!"
Instantly the courtroom went silent as I stopped yelling expletives, the Deaf Defendant went silent seeing the crazed look of the heavily panting and brightly red faced Judge. Why, even the arrogantly bloviating of the NERDA Plaintiff was stopped dead in mid mouthful of obfuscating twaddle. As I turned my head to look over my right shoulder, I can face to face with Death. ( I must admit, I very nearly peed myself as I looked into the Judge's eyes. )
In the spirit of brevity, knowing if I were to try and type out all the Judge preceded to unleash upon poor innocent me at that moment, the FCC would swoop down in all their regulatory splendor and ban this blog from ever being electronically published again. Let me just say that after a brilliant hour long defense of my professional conduct in the courtroom that day, and reminding the Judge that he had in fact had me swear an oath to faithfully render all communications, spoken and signed, no matter what circumstances my be in the court at any given moment, saved me from being charged with Contempt of Court. ( I cannot say how happy I was to hear that. Somehow I pictured Farah coming to the jail and laughing at me, then leaving me to serve out my contempt charge. ) Within record time, everyone involved in the case was sent home to await the ruling of the Judge in a week or two via a certified letter.
To this day, when I walk into a courtroom, I am still meet with the greeting, "Look, the Sorry Ass Interpreter is here". Such is the life of a highly trained bi-cultural/bi-lingual mediator.