Our 'live chickens' were transformed in translation
Winston Churchill said Americans and the British are two peoples separated by a common language. This seems to be true everywhere.
When my wife and I were in the town of Battambang, Cambodia, we hired a guide to take us up the river to Siem Reap. This was to be a six-hour trip that included crossing a large lake.
Battambang is poor, and our mode of transport was a very small boat, not much larger than the three of us.
With six bags, three travelers and the boatman, we were overloaded by a ton, but no one seemed concerned about this.
We had been on the water only a few minutes when our pilot made for shore and hopped to another boat.
Our guide said he would only be a minute and then added, "We need live chickens for their legs."
My wife and I exchanged glances. It was obvious there was little room in our vessel for live chickens. If we had to take them along, we could hold them on our laps.
The thought occurred that the chickens were needed if the boat's engine stopped. We could hold them over the side while they paddled away. After all, our guide said we needed them for their legs. Or we could eat them if we became marooned in the jungle.
I finally asked, "How many chickens are we taking?"
At first he was bewildered by this question, then, a smile spread over his face and he very loudly enunciated, "No live chickens! I said, 'We need life jackets for the lake!' "
"Life jackets for the lake" when filtered through a Cambodian accent, came out "Live chickens for their legs."
Whenever we made eye contact, our guide would laugh, shake his head and say, "America, so funny."
James Michael Dorsey lives in Culver City, Calif.
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