Limited by words, but not by freedom

I enter the simple room barefoot, sometimes sitting on a plastic chair or cot, sometimes on a cement or packed-dirt floor. I open my small journal and glance at questions I've jotted down, though I hardly need these to guide the interview that begins and ends in Tamil, my English intruding into that tiny space. Inevitably, faces begin to crowd out the light as curious neighbors and noisy children wander by and see the strangers sitting opposite their friends or family. I listen to words I do not understand and intonations I still find a bit jarring, waiting for a translation to interrupt the next bit of conversation.

I have always loved interviewing people, piecing together parts of their story in an order and with words others will read and relate to. I find that the intentionality draws out fascinating bits of information and memories that are often left out of everyday conversation. The interview setting is, inevitably, a little awkward at first. But just as soon as the introductory formalities are out of the way, the comfort level increases and the talking begins. Who doesn't welcome the chance to speak when you know someone is really listening?

One of the most challenging, rewarding experiences has been interviewing the families who are no longer living as slaves and are now a part of IJM's longterm aftercare program. The language barrier is huge, and it would be insurmountable for me without the patient aftercare staff who I accompany on these home visits. As a writer, it is frustrating to be limited by words. But I am growing as a listener, and grateful for every single word I hear -- in the language I don't understand and the language I do.

Read the story of this beautiful family here.