5 Pages

Found in Translation

Mad, frothy thrashing rocks the canoe when the snout is indeed bound. This is the same river where we swam with pink dolphins earlier in the day. I swam in here? Is this really happening? He’s actually going to haul this beast on board-here, with us? The croc is on a rampage, it’s jaw in the boat. I see big teeth. The canoe is shaking and Joaquin is yelling at me, spouting like the raging waters. I stand stoic. I don’t move because I don’t understand Joaquin and I could excuse myself saying I have trouble understanding undereducated native speakers or I could say Bolivians are hard to understand because they tend to omit crucial syllables at the end of their words, but the truth is there is no excuse for a translator who doesn’t get what the hell the guide is desperately trying to say.