“Is there any hot water?”
“Yow.”
“Is this the hot water?” I motioned towards an insulated canister.
“Nei.” His gaze remained fixed on the floor, his right arm swaying at his side. I poured from that canister anyway; it was coffee.
“Woops” I laughed awkwardly, chugging the coffee discretely before continuing my search for the hot water. The man shook his head and pointed towards what appeared to be a carton of milk. “That’s milk,” I said “I’m looking for hot water.”
“Nei.” He pointed again to the carton.
“Nei, I need hot water.” I pointed to my teabag. Slowly, he redirected his gaze from the floor to me. He picked up the carton, took the cup from my hand, and poured it.
It was hot water.
He then placed the cup down on the counter, looked me directly in the eye, and smacked his hand to his head a couple of times with an exasperated groan before leaving.
To say the least, I was embarrassed. Although I always thought of myself as very open-minded, I had come to a rather disturbing realization of my own bias. Deep down, I knew that it was not the language barrier that led to my lack of trust, but rather, that the man had been mentally handicapped. Living and interacting with the special needs community at Solheimar has truly been life-changing. Each and every day I continue to learn and better myself from the wonderful people here—whether it’s a conversation, a spontaneous hug, or even just a passing smile, I am constantly learning.
– Brittany Longhetano