The Foreign Service Journal, July-August 2009

26 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / J U LY- A U G U S T 2 0 0 9 “It is wise that you have come to see me, as you may need my assis- tance to seek other employment soon,” he declared with a note of su- periority. He said the minister was preparing a letter insisting that the U.S. close its embassy in our country and suspend its diplomatic relations for the heinous insults hurled at the minister and our country by Mr. Linus. I suggested that there must be a misunderstanding. Bomzar waved the dirty fork at me. “Calling our beloved motherland an igloo of hairless winos? By King Volmak’s ghost, these are truly harsh and peculiar words!” I noted our honored national tradition that, before going to war with a rival, we invite that rival to share a meal and seek to resolve our differences. The downside to this tradition is that, if the differences cannot be resolved, the rival is then stripped naked, wrapped in bacon and dropped into a pit of badgers. Bomzar grudgingly, perhaps with visions of badgers dancing in his head, agreed to recommend that the minister host Mr. Linus at a dinner. That evening, when Bomzar ledMr. Linus and me into the foreign minister’s official residence, the minister greeted us courteously but coldly. In a dimly lit receiving room a television in the corner showed an early episode of “The Brady Bunch.” We were given seats on cushions sur- rounding a low table with a large spoon in front of each of us. Mr. Linus, his usual gusto for once absent, said qui- etly, “Mr. Minister, I would like to express my most sincere and heartfelt —” The minister held up a hand for silence. I whispered to Mr. Linus, “First, we must share a taste of the same dish. It is our custom.” Mr. Linus nodded and we sat in silence for a few mo- ments, Bomzar smirking a little at me. Then I experienced a sudden olfactory joy, catching a whiff of the boiled gar- den thrush in sour snake bile for which our nation is justi- fiably famous. A servant brought in a large clay pot of the thick mixture. Mr. Linus wrinkled his nose. “That smell — what’s in this?” “It is a turdine dish.” “What? Are you serious?” “It is a great honor—youmust share it with theminister.” Mr. Linus smiled nervously at the minister and smelled the dish again. “The smell — it’s like someone microwaved an overflowing cat box.” “It is our national dish — turdine,” I told him. “I don’t — that’s not even a word.” “You could also call it turdoid. But you must eat it — to refuse would be the most grievous insult.” Mr. Linus swallowed hard, took a spoonful of the thick, brown mix- ture and put it in his mouth. The minister watched intently as Mr. Linus closed his eyes tightly, then opened them. He swal- lowed the mouthful. “Actually, it’s not bad.” “That is a most generous observation given that it is, after all, our national dish, amigo,” I observed quietly. Mr. Linus took another spoonful. “Tastes like chicken.” “As I said, it is, in fact, turdoid.” “Stop saying that!” Mr. Linus proceeded to eat with relish, and the minis- ter nodded with approval. “You enjoy our great national dish?” he asked. “Indeed, I do,” Mr. Linus responded in our tongue. “I find it truly glandular.” “He means to say delicious,” I whispered. “Right, exactly!” Mr. Linus responded. “Glandulicious.” The minister nodded thoughtfully, weighing Mr. Linus’ words. Bomzar tittered quietly, and I knew his thoughts were of bacon and badgers. We all took spoonfuls of the dish and chewed in silence. Finally the minister spoke. “Your efforts to master our most difficult language are in- deed noble, sir. That it causes you difficulty is something we can understand. I know this because I myself have trouble speaking your language,” and he switched to Eng- lish to add: “It is a suck on the butt.” Switching back to our tongue, he went on: “Still, I salute your fearlessness in trying— it shows a respect for our na- tional culture. I propose to you that we establish a group to work together to learn each other’s languages, and in- crease mutual understanding. You are just the partner we have been seeking for such an endeavor. Bomzar, please prepare a proposal for me to share with the embassy of the United States, noting the key role of the chargé d’affaires here in providing the impetus for this initiative.” Bomzar looked sadly at me as it dawned on him that the badgers would not be released that evening. The fermented badger milk was served, and many heartfelt toasts were exchanged, with my discreet assis- tance in translation smoothing the process. By the end of the evening the minister had his arm around Mr. Linus. Another episode of “The Brady Bunch” started, and the minister gestured at the television. “Mr. Linus, my friend F O C U S Bomzar tittered quietly, and I knew his thoughts were of bacon and badgers.