Sal-VAH-door. It is spelled Salvador, but when pronounced the emphasis is on the V-A. The O in the trailing D-O-R is pronounced with a long O sound. Sal-VAH-door. He only stood about 5′ 4″ tall with short but neatly groomed hair. A sparce patch of fine black stubble decorated the peak of his caramel toned chin. Stubble which seemed to contradict the boyishness of his large brown eyes.
KACHUNK! He could hear the latch click inoto place as he closed the driver side door of the truck. The air was stagnant and warm. Much warmer than the air outside, which he had been breathing only a few seconds before. He quickly placed the key into the ignition, giving it a quarter turn forward to start the engine. Almost immediately life saving cool air began emerging from the vents in the gray molded-plastic dashboard. His wife had left the air conditioner on when she turned off the car. He warned her about this practice before. Telling her that it placed additional stress on the engine. Having to start and induce the air condenser at full blast. Today he was glad she had not paid attention to his warnings.
Using his right hand he reached over his left shoulder, pulling the seat belt across his torso and waist, locking it securely into place. Next he looked up into the rear veiw mirror. He reached out and adjusted it to compensate for the two desks which now lay in the bed of the truck.
“Primero, vamos a Goodwill,” he explained to Salvador in his best broken spanish. He had taken a couple of spanish courses in high school, and picked up a little more from his wife and her family. If spoken slow enough, he could understand most conversations, but speaking the language was a different story. For that reason he wished he had continued studying it in college. In high school he proved to have a knack for the idiom, but now his tongue seemed to swell and stumble, only getting in the way when he tried to speak what little he could remember.
Whe he brought the truck to a hault in the Goodwill drop-off line, Salvador loosed his safety belt and began to get out. “No, espera te….ah….ellos son….ah,” he tried to tell Salvador that the Goodwill attendants would unload the desk for them. Salvador rattled off something incomprehensible in spanish. He must have understood, because he climbed back into the truck and put on his seatbelt. In the five minutes that it took them to get to the donation center, the two men had managed to learn where each other were from, how long they had been in Austin, and how many siblings they each had.
The large desk now removed, he manuvered through the parking lot and pulled out into traffic. “Adonde vamos?” Where are we going? It amazed him at how few words people really needed to communicate. At that moment it became apparent to him just how much of communication was non-verbal. Facial expressions, hand gestures and body language. Even spoken communication had non-verbal queues such as inflection, pitch and volume. Each element assisted us in coveying our message.
“A treinticinco,” replied the young immigrant. Salvador managed to explain the location of his brothers house to his new found American friend. “Cambion,” he blurted out a few moments later as he pointed to a bus. Salvador was attempting to explain that cambion was the spanish word for bus. The driver remembered the term autobus from his high school spanish classes, but Salvador insisted that cambion was correct for conversational usage. This went on for the duration of their journey. In between their fragmented conversations, Salvador would point to boats, trees, and pharmacies, giving the spanish word for each.
The two mean contiued with the spanish lesson until they finally reached Salvador’s brother’s house. They jumped out of the truck and immediately began to unload the small wooden desk his wife had given the young day laborer. Salvador’s mother came to the door to investigate the commotion.
“Hola,” he said as he set down his end of the desk. She returned the salutation with a warm smile and ponderous eyes. After fetching the desk drawers from the bed of the truck, the two men turned to face one another. Each extended a hand, culminating in a firm handshake.
“Muchos gracias Salvador.”
“Gracias mi amigo,” responded Salvador. They smiled, looking into each others eyes. he again considered the depth of non-verbal communication. Through that very breif exchange, that short hand shake and gaze, they conveyed a sense of mutual respect and admiration.
As he turned the truck around, he exchanged one last wave with Salvador. “Cambion,” he said aloud, yielding to a passing city bus. As he slowly pulled out into traffic, he could not help but smile. He reflected on his unexpected adventure, which was proof that each day presented an opportunity to learn something new.